It took me a long time to decide whether to post this one or not, but I guess I will since you guys liked the high school part. This took me for ever to write and post because I kept tweaking and fussing over it, and there are still some parts I'm not entirely happy with, but c'est la vie, I'll get better on the next ones.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Please enjoy and review!

Emily POV

Lately I had begun loathing Art Class with all my being, since the teacher made us all sing. It wasn't that I couldn't do it - I actually loved anything music related -, but since the first time I hummed a tune Mrs. Loris made me sing every time she caught me in class. It would have been acceptable, if not for the upcoming school show.

"Class, I have made the final list for the show," the teacher chimed when she got to her stand, waving a piece of paper. "The ones who are going to show their music talent are..."

"Please, for the love of everything nice, don't read my name," I grumbled.

"...Emily Grant, Jane Spencer, Leah Marcus..."

I sighed, dropping my head on the desk with a loud thud. Why on Earth does that blockheaded teacher insist to put me on a stage?

"Is anything wrong, Miss Grant?," Mrs. Loris asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I told you before, I don't sing," I told her in an exasperated tone.

"But you are so good," she retorted, "I have a special duet in mind for you."

"With who, if I may ask?"

"We will have tryouts, but I'm sure we'll find a good male voice to accompany you."

Great, singing with some random dude. Just marvelous.

I knew that Tron would tell me to quit fussing and do what I have to, but the Program was in an advanced Drawing class, since he had a considerable talent with it. What he called a 'random doodle' was a depiction of Tron city so realistic it looked like a picture on the back of his Algebra notebook so I signed him up for the drawing class against his protests.

"What song will I perform?," I asked, silently praying for anything but a love one.

"You have a solo one you get to pick, and the female voice part of 'Broken strings'."

I jumped out of my seat outraged, and I swear that if looks could kill my Music teacher would have been dead a gazillion times.

"I'm not singing that," I shouted.

"Yes you are," the teacher said calmly.

"Make me," I spat, grabbing my book bag.

"If you don't, Miss Grant, I won't pass you this semester and I will expel you."

I dropped back on the chair, gawking like an idiot at the teacher.

"I can and will do it," she said, "so you'd better behave."

The hell I will.

"Tryouts will be next Monday at 10, so you have to practice by then. I will take care of posting the notices. Oh, and you should find some options for the other song."

"I already have something in mind," I grumbled, acknowledging my defeat.

"Good," the teacher chimed, "I know you will be excellent. Now, let's review the list for the rest of you..."

When the class ended I stormed out of the room, heading directly to my locker. I kicked the door hard, earning a sore toe, and opened it, tossing my bag inside. Someone bolted beside me, and I saw a very scared Tron hide behind a corner.

"I'm not here," he hissed, flattening against the wall and peeking around cautiously.

His shocked face was so funny I stifled a laugh before looking for what startled the Monitor.

"Are they gone?," he asked, peeking from around the corner.

"I don't really want to know what was chasing you if it scared you like that," I snickered, "The last time you had that face was when you played Slender."

"Only one time and she never lets it go," the Program grumbled.

"What happened?"

"I got out of the Drawing class and some girls cornered me," he explained.

I burst into loud laughter while the Monitor glared at me.

"That's one thing I never expected to hear from you," I cackled, "The great Tron running away scared out of his wits from some teenage girls. Priceless, man, priceless!"

"What's that 'prom' thing, anyway?," he asked, shooting me another murderous glare that would have given me a run for my money.

I began cackling again, tears streaming from my eyes.

"I don't get what's so funny," Tron grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Did they ask you to prom?," I wheezed, holding my midsection and still snickering.

"Yes," he frowned.

"And what did you tell them?"

"That I really have to be somewhere and I'll tell them later. Can you please explain me now what they wanted?"

"Prom is a school dance which celebrates the end of high school; our school holds it about two months from now," I explained, "and tradition is that all students come with dates."

"So why me?"

"Have you looked in a mirror recently?"

"Why, is my hair off?"

"No, silly pants," I sighed, "all the girls in school are drooling over, and I quote: 'the hunk in senior year with those dreamy blue eyes'."

"'Hunk'?"

"It basically means you're exceptionally good looking and almost every female wants you as a date for prom night."

Tron face-palmed with a groan, banging his head against the wall.

"What do I do?"

"You either find a date, or you tell them you don't come," I reasoned.

"Who will you go with?," he asked.

"I probably won't go at all," I admitted, "I'm not on anyone's date list."

"Why, don't you like dancing?"

"I'm okay with it," I grumbled, "It's singing that worries me more."

Tron shot me a questioning look and I sighed, remembering what the teacher threatened me.

"You know I take Music as an art optional," I explained, "and there's an upcoming show in which I'm supposed to sing a duet, and I really don't want to do it. It's a love song and the teacher is running tryouts for the guy part of it, and she threatened that she'll expel me if I don't do it."

"It isn't so bad," the Program mused, "why are you so horrified by the thought of it?"

"I get enough negative attention without going on a stage in front of the entire school, Tron, if I do this it'll get only worse."

"Oh, come on," he chastised, "you almost died twice last week while fighting a maniac in order to save a world and you worry about this? You really have to get your priorities sorted out."

"Honestly, I'd rather take down Cyrus again than do this," I hissed, earning a smack in the head from the Monitor.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it," I surrendered, "but I promise I'll hate every moment of it."

"Maybe you won't," Tron said mysteriously before taking off to his next class and leaving me confused in the middle of the corridor.

Monday: tryouts day.

I peeked from behind the curtains of the theatre stage at the small crowd of guys who were waiting for the tryouts to begin and the larger number of students who came to see how it went and I could already feel my knees shaking like jelly. I spotted a familiar mop of reddish hair in the crowd and Tron waved cheerily at me from the front row.

"Okay, students," Mrs. Loris announced, "I will call those of you in my class first, followed by the other candidates."

I got on the stage and for the next half hour I listened to the guys struggling to meet the teacher's expectation. What some of them thought when they signed up, I didn't know, since most of them couldn't hit a tune in a brass bucket, and by the time the Music class guys ended I felt like my ears were bleeding.

"Now for the other students," the teacher called, "Is Mr. Tim Anderson in here?"

No way. This wasn't happening. Tron got up from his seat and gracefully came on stage beside me as I stared in pure disbelief.

"You and I have to talk after this," I hissed between my teeth as the Monitor winked playfully.

When he opened his mouth I swear that the entire public, me included, forgot to breathe. The Program's warm baritone filled the theatre as he sang one of my favorite rock ballads, giving me chills when he perfectly hit the high notes of the final bridge. I never heard Tron sing before but his voice was absolutely amazing and he easily put to shame all of the wannabe artists who came to the tryouts. When he finished the crowd erupted into cheers and applause as both Mrs. Loris and I gawked with disbelief and awe combined. The teacher snapped her jaw shut and handed Tron a piece of paper with the lyrics of the song we had to play for the show.

"The ones highlighted are yours," she said, turning on the negative and motioning us to sing.

I had the first lines and I really gave it my best try. I had always been a soprano and when it mixed with Tron's low baritone it gave such a hauntingly beautiful combination I could swear that by the time we reached the last chorus half the girls in the public were sniffing and wiping away tears.

"I believe we have found someone for the male part," the teacher stammered when we finished, breaking the silence that followed. "The show's next week on Thursday, so you'd better not catch a cold by then. Class dismissed."

"I had no idea you could sing," I told Tron as we got out of the theatre.

The Monitor smiled, ruffling my hair and making me yelp and elbow his ribs hard.

"When I wasn't on duty I used to sing," he explained, "I always liked it and it seems that even if I'm a bit rusty I still can do it."

"Rusty?," I scoffed, shooting him an incredulous glare, "That was amazing!"

"I'm glad you like it," he said, smiling.

"You saved me, man; I guess I owe you one."

"It's fine, really..." he dismissed, before noticing something and bolting behind an open classroom door.

I saw a group of girls giggling and looking at us in the middle of the hallway, and I got an idea.

"I think I know how to rid you of those fangirls," I told Tron, who shrank behind me as the girls spotted him and began whispering among each other even more.

I went to the girls and was nearly tackled by the Morrison twins and their friends, feeling like I plunged into a perfumed, giggling ocean of teenage stereotypes.

"Oh my gosh, you were stunning at the tryouts," one of them -Amy or Hazel, I could never tell them apart- squealed, "I ruined my mascara but it was soo worth it!"

"Thank you," I said, "how are the preparations for prom?"

"We got our dresses, but only Mary has a date," Jenna Ferris informed me, "what about you? Are you going with someone?"

"Yes, I am."

Another giggling fit began, and I face-palmed mentally. That was precisely the reason I never hung out with those girls, they were way too much into romantic movies and love stories for my taste, not to mention what they wore. Jenna had her 'pink mania' day today, everything she wore being, well, pink, form her sneakers to the floppy bow in her hair. Only looking at her gave me diabetes from all the sweetness she faked. Just ugh.

"What about your friend Tim," the other twin asked, shooting a hopeful glance at the terrified Monitor who had wisely kept his distance, "does he have a date?"

I considered torturing him a little more just for the fun of it but I quickly scrapped the thought when I saw his pleading gaze, almost begging me to get him rid of his unwanted fans.

"He's taken, girls," I announced, making all the sugary enthusiasm die.

God, they looked like kicked puppies, and I could swear that one of them, a curly haired brunette, was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, we had no idea," Jenna said with a pout, "I wonder who's the lucky girl he picked..."

Initiation done, commence phase two and place final blow.

"Well," I began, playing with my braided hair in a way that was not exactly characteristic for me, "he's new in this school and he doesn't really know many people, more of the shy type, you know, so he asked me. It's not like we're dating or something, we're just friends, but I couldn't let him go alone as he first wanted."

The looks on the girls' faces varied from resignation to envy to pure hatred, but I was sure none of them would pester Tron anymore.

"Oh," one of the twins gasped, "you're so lucky. Well, have fun together then."

"Thanks," I chimed, "see you around!"

I turned on my heels and went back to the Monitor, casually grabbing his arm and heading to the exit.

"Thanks," he mouthed as we went out and headed to the parking lot.

"Anytime," I replied.

The night before the show I couldn't get a moment of sleep because I was so nervous about how it was going to turn out. When Tron woke up he found me in the kitchen pouring myself the fourth mug of coffee and looking like I haven't slept in ages.

"Nervous, huh?," he asked while I downed the warm coffee.

"You can tell?"

The Monitor frowned, inspecting me with a concerned look.

"I have seen you looking better when you had gotten messed up in fights," he deadpanned, snatching the mug from my hands.

"Hey, I was drinking that," I protested when he drained the contents in the sink.

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

The sheepish grin on my face and the huge black circles under my eyes must have spoken for me since Tron's frown deepened and he let out a low growl.

"You look like you're going to pass out any moment now, Emily," he groaned, "why on the Grid are you so afraid of this?"

"It may be the fact that in junior year of high school I used to get my head dunked in the toilets every recess," I retorted, "or that when I last played on a stage some wiseguy thought it was fun to dump paint on me. I still get into trouble with the bully gang, and this kind of things only makes them go at me worse."

I stifled a huge yawn, dropping my head on the table and wishing I could go to sleep more than everything in the world.

"If we get through this, we get pizza and stay in the whole day," I groaned, making Tron chuckle.

"You have to get your prom dress, and I don't think I can borrow anything from Mike," he said, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"I guess you're right, let's go" I sighed, getting up and heading to the door.

"Em, maybe you have to get changed."

"Why?"

The Monitor's eyes glinted with humor and he tossed me my favorite pair of jeans.

"You're still wearing pajama bottoms," he snickered.

Fifteen minutes before the show, while all the others were practicing, I was sitting on the steps to the balcony rubbing my crushed toes and cursing whatever gave me the dumb idea to wear 5 inch heels. I really doubted my ability to think sometimes, usually when I had the tendency to make a bad day worse, but this was too much already. It wasn't like I didn't fuss in skyscraper high stilettos at every party I went, but now they were almost unbearable to walk in.

"Are you ready for the show?," Tron asked as he sat beside me on the steps.

"If I could manage to walk in these blasted shoes it'd be so much better," I groaned, rubbing a sore spot behind my neck.

"May I remind you that I told you not to take those," the Monitor chastised, "and that you answered something around the lines of 'if I can do all those crazy acrobatics...'"

"'...I can pull off high heels'," I finished, "Yeah, I know, it wasn't my brightest-Crayola in-the-pack moment."

Tron shot me the 'you don't say' look and I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Don't look at me as if I'm going to break like a china doll dropped from the top floor," I hissed, elbowing his ribs, "I'm just tired and this show thing is not my favorite in the world."

"You'll do just fine," he encouraged, "it's just ten minutes on the stage."

"Says the one terrified by a group of hormone-fueled teenage girls," I growled.

"You have to admit they're quite persistent," he retorted. "I've seen gridbug swarms give up more easily."

I shuddered, remembering the nasty insect-like pests that almost killed us before the Cyrus episode. And I thought that our spiders were scary.

The first girl went on stage, and Tron helped me to my feet, steadying me as we went backstage. I tripped over a cable and crashed with a shocked yelp, scraping my hands on the floor. I propped myself on an elbow, tapping my nails on the hardwood floor in annoyance.

"Can this day get even worse?," I complained as I got up just to get shoved out of the way by some running guys. This time Tron managed to catch me before I took another nasty fall and I shot a venomous glare at the boys.

"Come on, it's our turn," he said, ushering me on stage.

I sometimes got what I called a 'blank moment', in which my brain seemed to shut down completely. I remembered a girl introducing us, then going to the microphone stands and then I guess I sang my solo pretty well judging by the applause. When we played the other song everyone was silent even after it finished, but I couldn't remember a thing I did. The crowd roared with applause and cheers which reached my ears muffled and distorted, and I felt Tron take my hand before raising it in the air.

I followed the Program behind the stage like I was sleepwalking and he forced me to sit down on a crate.

"You can breathe now, Em," he rumbled, "you're going to pass out any second."

"Did we do it?," I croaked, "it all was a blur for me..."

"It was our best performance since we first started practicing," the Monitor reassured, "stay here, I'll get you some water."

He disappeared in some of the rooms backstage and I finally relaxed. It was good. Nothing wrong happened.

The Program returned with a bottle of water and I downed it in one gulp.

"Can we go home now?," I asked as the world began blurring at the edges.

"The teacher wants us to stay..."

I took off my shoes and got up, only managing to take three steps before my knees buckled and I landed on the floor.

"Whoa, I wasn't expecting that," I groaned, shaking my head, "too many falls for one day."

Tron picked me up without a word, carrying me bridal-style to the exit of the theatre.

"What happened to her," Mrs. Loris asked, hurrying to us.

"I guess the stress of the performance was too much for her," he replied.

"I'm fine," I said in a weak voice, but nobody listened.

"Get your friend home, Mr. Anderson," the teacher told Tron, "and make sure she rests. You were both great today."

The Program nodded and carried me to the car before depositing me on the passenger seat.

"Stay here," he ordered, "I'll get our things and we're off."

Tron POV

I went back to the school theatre to pick up Em's bag and the rest of the stuff we had, wondering why the User had been so stressed about this show. It wasn't a logical thing for someone who got into all sorts of deadly trouble on a daily basis to be so afraid of going on a stage, not to mention that Emily was quite a people person. I saw her on the Grid when she announced our victory over the Stranger and she was one of those charismatic people who could make a crowd go alive.

I got the answer to my questions not long after I came into the theatre, when I saw a blonde girl waiting casually against a wall.

"Your things are here," she purred, tossing her hair back, "here, let me help you."

She waved to the small room where we left our things and I went in as she followed. Suddenly I heard the door close and froze when the girl -Jane, if I remembered correctly- embraced me and started to... well, kiss me I guess.

"You're too nice to hang out with Circuit Face," she whispered in my ear, "maybe we should get to know each other better..."

I was still frozen with shock when the door slammed opened and a pair of hands snatched Jane, pulling her off me. Emily was standing a few feet from us, still pale as a sheet and glaring daggers at the blonde.

"Get your filthy hands off him," she snarled as I could clearly see a faint amber ring forming around the blue irises that burned with hatred.

A faint rumbling purr filled the room as the User heaved the girl to her feet and slammed her against the wall with a loud thud. The sound was oddly familiar and I remembered what Emily did with that bit of Clu's reprogramming the last time we went on the Grid. It was obvious that the viral code had affected her, since this sickness episode was just one of many others that occurred after our return, but neither of us had expected such a manifestation of the virus Clu used to transform me into Rinzler to come up.

"Wasn't the last one you took from me enough?," she growled, "I'm growing tired of your petty bullying and of everything you do to discredit me. You are nothing but a dumb blonde with issues who feels secure only when she hurts someone else, not to mention you think you're oh, so popular, oh, so beautiful and that everyone should worship the very ground you stepped on."

The girl struggled against Emily's iron grip to no avail.

"Let... me... go...bitch," Jane coughed, "or you'll suffer the consequences."

"No, you will," the User hissed, tightening her grip on the other girl's throat and making her choke.

I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. The User was almost mad with anger, and I knew that in her rage she might seriously injure the other girl. It was similar to how I had been after Yori died, but I didn't let myself remember that horrible night, seeing the other girl's face turn a shade of purple as the User tightened her fingers on her throat. I went to their side, setting a hand on Em's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.

"Emily, let her go."

The User didn't seem to hear me, so I insisted.

"Come on," I pleaded, "let her go."

Again no answer.

"EMILY!"

"What," she snapped, turning her burning gaze to me.

"You're killing her, let her go."

The amber tinged eyes bore into mine, making me flinch, but finally she released the grip on Jane's neck as if it burned her hand, stepping back.

"He's right," the User hissed with disgust, "you're not worth it."

"You are so dead, Circuit Face," Jane wheezed, rubbing her neck as she got up, "Go cry to your Mommy like the coward you are. Oups, I forgot, you have no Mommy to go to."

That did it. Emily lunged before I could grab her and in a short time the blonde was on the floor unconscious, with the User towering above her, breathing heavily. Someone gasped behind us and I saw some kids from our class watching us in the doorway with shock. Em turned on her heels and made her way out without another word and I followed as the others parted to let us go. It seemed that the rage moment had left her speechless, since she was unusually silent for half of the ride to the warehouse. The User let out a sigh, tapping her nails on the wheel absently as we waited at a traffic light.

"I was waiting for a long time to do that," she said smugly, startling me after the long silence, "that bimbo was on my nerves since first year of high school. Sorry 'bout that."

I took a mental note not to get this particular User angry on the Grid, or she'd derezz an entire city.