“Jesse, the rhythm guitarist for Trent’s band, called this morning; apparently Trent never showed up for practice last night. Or this morning. Whichever.”
Daria glanced at the artist out of the corner of her eye. “Aren’t you worried?”
Jane shook her head. “Nah. Yesterday wasn’t the first time that I convinced him that he was dreaming when he really wasn’t, and after watching ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ when he was a kid, he makes sure he never does anything to get himself hurt. He’ll be fine.”
Any further conversation between the trio is cut off by the rapidly approaching whine of an electric motor. Turning curiously, Daria, Jane, and Ranma watch silently as a golf buggy drives past. The driver, one Trent Lane, had picked up a Hawaiian shirt and a nacho hat from…somewhere, and was driving quite well for a man wearing boxing gloves and carrying a putter in his right hand. Saluting as he hummed past, Trent soon took a side street out of sight.
“…that was surreal.”
Jane waved off Daria’s comment and starts walking again. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”
Ranma scratched the back of his head, confused. “But where’s his car? And where’d he get all of that stuff? It’s not like he had a wallet when he left.”
“Those are very good questions, but if I were you, I’d be more worried about your first science class.”
The two new arrivals turned to the Lawndale native, and Daria asked the question on both of their minds. “Why?”
“Ms Barch, the science teacher, had a really messy divorce a few years back. It's lead to an intense hatred for the entire male gender, regardless of species. Hey, maybe she’ll go easy on Ranma because he’s half girl?”
Ranma perked up a bit, but slumped over, resigned, when Daria shot the idea down. “There are some things that really shouldn’t be advertised, and Ranma’s abilities are quite a few of them. There’s no telling what Ms Li, let alone the Government, would do if they found out.”
Jane watched Ranma slump a little further, so she crossed behind Daria, caught back up, and slung an arm across his shoulders. “Sorry Ranma, looks like you’ll just have to take it like, and as, a man.”
“Great.”
Ranma unknowingly dealt with the first class of the day, science, much as he dealt with his old English class at Furinkan; he slept through it. Oddly enough, Ms Barch dealt with Ranma’s inattention much as Ms Hinako dealt with it; by attacking him. Lacking her Japanese counterpart’s ability to drain an opponent’s life energy, Janet Barch resorted to more mundane methods…
“SAOTOME!” *Hurl!* *Deflect!* *WHAP!*
“AARGH!”
“KEVVY!”
Barch blinked. Curious, she picked up the other blackboard eraser and tried again. *Hurl!* *Deflect!* *WHACK!*
“GAAAGH!”
“KEVVY!”
The second round of dolphinesque squeaking from the head cheerleader roused the pigtailed martial artist from his slumber. Lifting his head up off the desk, Ranma froze when he saw the fem-nazi standing three feet in front of him, staring at him contemplatively. “Um, sorry Ma’am.”
“…go back to sleep.”
“What?”
“Put your thick head back on the desk and go to sleep, you stupid male!”
Ranma stared at her for a moment, but decided not to look a gift bitch horse in the mouth, and in less than a minute he was back to sleep.
“So, not only do you get to sleep through class, but she actually gave you less homework than the rest of the guys. I think she likes you.”
Ranma didn’t look away from the canvass as he answered in a distracted tone. “Maybe.”
Daria stepped back from her own painting, smirking slightly as amore insidious motive occurred to her. “Or she really doesn’t like Kevin.”
Jane smirked back. “She doesn’t dislike Kevin, she hates Kevin, mostly because he’s womanising numbskull.” Glancing around at the paintbrushes, Jane growled and dumped the brush she was holding into a tray. “Ranma, could you come here for a sec?”
Grimacing in distaste at the mess in front of him, Ranma sighed and put down his tools. “Sure, why not?” As soon as he was at Jane’s side she turned him around, grabbed his pigtail (“HEY!”), dunked the end in a blob of green paint, then started dabbing and swiping it across her work, making him weave around wildly. “What the hell are you doing!?”
Rolling her eyes, Jane dabbed his hair in the green again and continued. “This stuff will wash right out, you big prima donna…there, done!”
Ranma jumped away, grabbing at his pigtail to check the damage. “…aw, man!”
When Ranma ran off to clean up at the sink, the red-headed Ms Defoe took his place alongside the youngest child of Amanda and Vincent Lane. “Very nice, Jane. An unorthodox use of perspective, employed to great effect.” She leaned forward to get a closer look. “Human hair can make an interesting tool, but doing it too often can be bad for your locks. Mr Saotome has such nice hair, and it would be a shame to ruin it.”
“Oh la la, does teacher have a thing for well-built Asians?”
Defoe smiled devilishly. “If I were twenty years younger, perhaps. These days, it’s just so hard to find a model with such a well-defined musculature.”
“Well, there is that.”
Ranma walked back, tying his hair back into a tight pigtail. “There is what?”
Daria answered casually. “They were just talking about wanting to see you with your clothes off.”
“WHAT!?”
Jane nodded, grinning lecherously. “Yeah, my bedroom would be a good spot.”
Ms Defoe chipped in. “Maybe in front of the class. I imagine that it would be a memorable experience for all concerned.” Ranma sputtered and blushed an atomic crimson, but before he could run screaming from the room the art teacher gently caught his arm and turned him towards his easel. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve done so far?”
“Running a ninja stronghold and keeping it’s strength concealed from the outside world is no easy task, particularly in the modern world. In order to procure supplies, you will need to depend on outside sources, and when that happens you must keep track of, and conceal, your dealings. An enemy can gauge the number of people by seeing how much you spend on food. They can guess how many warriors there are by the supplies purchased to maintain their armaments, just as they can guess the true size of a fortress by the supplies needed in its maintenance. And even amongst all of this, you need to keep careful track of every little detail, to ensure you are not spending resources unnecessarily or ineffectively. This is the great test of ones cunning. As your father has so effectively demonstrated, even a fool can conceal his own strength, but it takes so much more for one man to conceal the might of an entire clan. This is what I shall teach you...”
“…the Modern Art of Ninja Bookkeeping.”
*Clap!* *Clap!* *Clap!* *Clap!*
Ranma flinched at the sudden noise, snapping out of his daydream and unexpectedly finding himself standing before a blackboard covered with a bewildering mass of scribbling.
Mrs Bennett continued her applause, unaware of the disorientation Ranma was feeling. “Well done Mr Saotome! By completing all of the work on the board, you’ve demonstrated a solid understanding of the entire semesters course load!”
Glancing at the board, then at the chalk in his hand, Ranma tried to figure out what the hell was going on. “…what?”
Of course, the loopy but likeable economics teacher completely missed his confusion. “In fact, given the speed and accuracy with which you worked, I really don’t see any point to assigning you work. You have no assignments this semester, and may have the rest of the semester’s classes as independent study. You will receive notices in homeroom those days you need to come in for exams.”
“Uh, great…I guess…”
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(Posted Wed, 17 Aug 2005 18:28)
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