Heyyyyy guys! so i know I didn't get it up when I thought I could, but hey- at least I got it up before Saturday! which reminds me that Saturday I have a full schedule, but I don't have any school today or Monday and Sunday is completley free as far as I know! yayayayayayayay! SAY YES TO SLEEPING IN! HOORAY! but anyway, sorry I didn't get it up as soon as I wanted but I have plenty of time to try and put another chapter or two up before Tuesday!

thank you to everyone who has reviewed and everything for my story so far and please keep reading and reviewing- it means a lot to me. THANKS A BILLION GAZILLION INFINITY!

but yeah, no AN at the bottom because my fingers are cramping and i'm too lazy- sorry guys! :O sorry this chapter's a little short but i literally have no idea what to do for the middle of the story- i pretty much just improvise throughout my stories! lol

so i am also working on my own story right now- as in not on fanfiction with my own characters and stuff. fingers crossed that it works out ok! :)

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! LEMME KNOW WHAT U THINK ABOUT THE STORY SO FAR- FEEL FREE TO GIVE ME ANY SUGGESTIONS ON WHAT U THINK SHOULD HAPPEN! I'LL BE HAPPY TO RESPOND AND LET U KNOW WHAT I THINK OR IF I MIGHT USE IT IN MY STORY! :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Gallagher Girls; Ally Carter does! :)

Chapter Four:

Teaching and Punching Bags

(Cammie POV)

I never thought that I would be standing in front of a class full of expectant students- waiting for me to teach them something. But that is exactly what situation I was in, in that moment. For a spilt second, I felt a overwhelming ammount of respect for my teachers to stand in front of us students and teach us as if it's nothing. But then I realized that I wasn't neccassarily supposed to be the one that's doing the teaching and relaxed.

Sitting in the spinny chair of Mr. Aldertree's desk, I watched as the students stared at me. Mr. Aldertree, not sure how to teach with me here, propped behind his desk on his chair with my feet resting on said desk. My high heeled boots were sitting beside me, leaving my feet bare except for the mis-matched socks (they were both the ones with the individual toe thingies, but one was bright and colorful while the other one was plain zebra print).

"...The art of lying is classified with what symptoms?" Mr. Aldertree asked the class. Immediatley pointing to the nearest girl to answer it (maybe that's why basically no one was sitting in the front), he looked at her expectantly.

"Dialated pupils, quickened pulse, or... um..." the girl paused, struggling to remember what the other one was. I guess they were only studying the obvious ones- I guess it made sense, since they were only in ninth grade...

I saw the girl's eyes flick towards me nervously, then glance away, blushing. She started stuttereing even more- she reminded me of Liz and I could feel a small affectionate smile start to creep up on my face.

Liz was always nervous, but she was also always able to answer the questions...

"ANyone else?" the teacher asked, sighing as his eyes searched the room. "Ms. Morgan, would you like to take a whack at it?" he asked.

"Stuttering."

Everyone's eyes shifted towards me- at least, more obviously.

I stood up slowly, raising to my full height like I always did when people were analyzing me.

"Impaired speech habits are the most obvious signs of lying- this includes tremors in your voice and cracks in your voice... When you lie, you unconsiously shift your weight, twiddle with your thumbs, mess with your hair... You always want to look the most natural- but sometimes by trying to look natural, you look too natural." My gaze swept over the classroom. As I had spoken, the air seemed to stand still as night.

The students had unconsiously leaned forward to hear what I was saying. With every eye in the classroom on me, I stared right back. Battling with my inner Chameleon, I waited as the shock of my input finally subsided before turning to the desk again and taking out a small package I had seen that Mr. Aldertree had tried to hide.

Too bad for him I was a better spy than he thought.

He had wanted to surprise them- not tell them what the rings did. They were like the lying detector rings I had gotten when I went to Gallagher. I could still feel the ring against my finger- I had never taken if off, save for when I had to when it was for a mission.

I plucked a small ring from the bag and examined it. The rings looked as though they were metal, but i could tell they were really just a substitute- a much cheaper one. Inside I knew that there was a small lie detector.

Walking to a boy in the back I held the bag out to him. "Pick your poison," I told him. He glanced at me- almost arrogantly- and reached his hand into the bag. His hand came back with a regular silver-colored ring with no patterns marked into it.

He slipped it on.

"Now ask me a question." He pursed his lips for a second, thinking for a second.

"What color is your bra?" he asked. I restisted the urge to roll my eyes. Typical boy. I could hear the startled intake of breath from a few of the girls- I guess they never thought that someone would talk to a "legend" like that.

"Blue." My gaze didn't waver and I could tell that his ring had done nothing. That wasn't tru of course- my bra was blood red. Not that I was going to tell them that, though. "Ask me again. Same question."

"What color is your bra?"

"What bra?" I asked him. His eyes widened and he glanced slightly at my chest. "It takes a lot of skill to defy a truth telling ring- why don't you see how much? Everyone grab a ring, get into groups of two, and ask each other questions. See how many times you can tell if someone is lying to you or not."

Dropping the bag of rings onto an empty desk towards the front, I walked back to the desk, snatched up my boots, and made my way slowly out of the room. I felt the eyes of the students burning holes on my back, but without even a glance back, I made my way through the door and to my dorm- I had to get dressed for P&E.

After changing into a pair of tight blue short shorts, a black exercise tank top, and some sneakers, I made my way to the gymnasium where they held P&E. There I found Coach Davis setting up what looked like an obstacle coarse at the end was a mat where I assumed they had to fight one another.

"Ms. Morgan, there you are!" Coach Davis said, smiling at me. He was twenty-five, his hair a really light blond(almost white), and his eyes shone as a pale blue. All the light of him drastically changed when you saw his skin tone- deeply tanned from all the hard hours outside made him very tan- it kind of gave him the rugged surfer look. He wore his usual clothes- a tight Underarmour shirt and loose gym shorts that fell to his knees.

I smiled back at him. He had always been nice to me- we had gotten along whenever we met.

"Hey, Brian," I said. I knew he liked to go by first names rather than formalities- he just didn't like to be the first one to say them.

"How about you go over there and warm up- the kids should be here soon and I want you to help them with the fighting. Trust me, you're easily the best fighter I know. And that includes me."

I could feel an unwanted blush creep up my face, so turned with a small 'thanks' thrown over my shoulder in his direction, and headed towards the punching bags. After thoroughly stretching out, I started punching and kicking the huge bag before me. Before I knew it, my knuckles here beginning to bleed and the bag was straining to stay on the chain that kept it attatched to the ceiling.

Finally, the thing broke free, the metal chains snapping from the pressure of my last blow, and the huge punching bag was rolling across the floor towards the students, who all stood there, mouths gaping open.

I tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of the messy bun on top of my head behind my ear and winced lightly as the punching bag took out a little guy (he reminded me somewhat of Jonas- one of... his friends- basically the male version of Liz) as he was gaping at me.

Brian Davis then clapped his hands and smiled, dimples forming on his cheeks.

"And that, folks, is why you do not want to anger Cameron Morgan."