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((Note: This counts as Open RP as long as you post 3 times and get at least 500 words written. The mathematics class welcomes any new child growths. RP also assumes mathematics classes have continued in-between roleplays.))

Dr. Darnell sipped her third cup of coffee and wearily knew it would not help: she would only spend the rest of the day stressed as well as buzzed, perhaps being stressed in a more high-powered way as she marked the rest of the geometry projects. It was the first and last project Riley would do in the children's class: it was time to move her to a different level. Beatrix had contemplated keeping her working with the rest of the class, but that risked patronizing her. Frankly, Riley had a strong background and talent for maths: but the girl hated the numbers and grew bored working with them, which resulted in sloppy work and Riley not trying in any way whatsoever.

Her class members had their own litle foibles. Harper was smart but easily distracted, and a definite smartmouth punk: Delilah had an amazing talent for looking as though she were quiet and listening when in reality she was just incredibly good at looking sweetly attentive. Antony she tried to not make her favourite or a teacher's pet: he was overly perfectionistic and could get frustrated. She could go on forever. They were a motley crew.

Riley was one problem. Jacoba Darnell, new mathematics student at large, was another, hopefully lesser, since she had drilled baby maths into her at home with Wisp and shouldn't have too much trouble catching up. It would mean extra homework. (Beatrix naively thought that Jace would be fine with extra homework.)

Thwomp chewed surreptitiously at the chalk as Beatrix continued grading, waiting for her erstwhile class members to file in.

Manuela strode into the classroom somewhat balanced on her high heels. Her checkered backpack had been replaced with a chic canvas messenger bag, and she had adorned herself in shiny clear lipgloss in hopes of making herself appear older. Her curls were tied back in a ponytail, and with a smile she planted herself in a seat next to Harper, setting her bag on the ground before she acknowledged him. "Nice nails," she said cheerfully, flashing her own burgundy polish, "Kind of messy though."

Antony walked in a little while later, looking a bit reserved, his bag hanging over his shoulder, a notebook in his hand. He sat down in his usual spot and didn't even notice that Delilah was no longer sitting next to him until he glanced up.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly before he shrugged it off, going back to his notebook. It was only to be expected, he supposed. For a moment the hand holding his pencil started to look translucent, then solidified once again.

((He thinks she's slighting him=P))

"Two minutes until class begins," said Dr. Darnell, not looking up from grading her papers. "Round off your inevitably fascinating conversations at that point."

Jacoba, who was sitting one seat over from Antony, felt hot and slightly burny behind her eyes: she felt uncomfortable and awkward and mad that she felt uncomfortable and awkward. This wasn't at all like nursery school. She wadded up a piece of paper from the maths book that her mother had gotten her, hating terribly on Beatrix for not even looking at her for comfort, and tossed it at Antony's head to try to get his attention. The sight of a familiar face had - and she hated to admit it - immediately made her feel better.

"No," she hissed back. "The freakin' Easter Bunny. Yeah, Jacoba." Jealous as she was of Antony, the fact that he recognised her made her grin at him widely. "Call me Jace, though, okay?"

Jace swung her legs up with a fairly heavy clatter on the floor to shift over to Del's abandoned seat: she had practiced walking for about an hour earlier, and though she had fallen over about six times and was developing some interesting bruises she had gotten a hold on it now. "This morning," she said. "And I still had to go to school. Totally sucky, right?"

Harper endearingly mocked everything the good doctor had said, silently mimicing the words with a beautifully scrunched up face. The performance ended up being at least mostly for himself (and his nails,) though you would think he'd of learned that Miss Darnell had a sort of... all seeing eye. He frowned deeply, and began wiggling one of his fingers that he had finished preening over so that it 'talked back' to him, falling deeper into some imagination induced childhood insanity as the seconds drew on.

Still, there was a new voice, and it beckoned another 'I shall bestow upon you a momentary glance' that was immediately halted and prolonged just as his stomach gave an audible gurgle and face twisted yet again. He was quickly quite unsure if he was overjoyed or sick with some sort of anxiety, anticipation, fear... and one more gurgle of his stomach made his decision for him. He shot up to his feet, clanking his desk in an overly busy commotion, hand raising into the air, "I think I'm sick, you should send me home now." Oh, no, he wasn't THAT afraid of her; it was halfly the nail polish fumes and a planned party after school that told him if he came home missing chunks of hair and parts of his clothes things would ruin his already (very!) grumpy day... foooor Jace had grown, and the press had not yet been alerted.

Dr. Darnell looked up, wholly unimpressed at Harper's outburst, Riley's arrival and the general mayhem going on. Same old, same old. More children filed in. "You are exactly two seconds late," she informed Riley, "excusable but also notable. I hope your growth spurt isn't heralding this as a new trend. Harper, please seat yourself before you give yourself an injury, and may I say that you look in the peak of health." (How she knew this, considering she was blind, was a mystery.) " - All right, class begins: raise your hand as I call your name..."

She went through the class names, leaving out Jace, who was squirming slightly with irritation and the cut-off chance to throw something bigger at Harper's head. That was Harper! She knew Harper! Harper needed severe beating up!

Her mother finished the roll, leaving out Jace's name. With a new feeling of dread, she watched as the maths teacher cleared her throat with a familiar sound. "We do have a new student," she said, detached: "my daughter. Jacoba Darnell, you may stand and introduce yourself."

If Jace knew that Beatrix had thought that taking her daughter to school had been a horrid idea and was going to take her home after first period, stopping off at some clothing stores so that she didn't look like the proverbial second-hand rose and maybe some icecream, she never would have done what she did do next. All she knew was that she felt mad that her mother had called her Jacoba and not Jace. She got to her feet and stuck her hands in her pockets, knowing that whatever she said next would characterise her to the class forever: with the added stigma of Being The Math Teacher's Daughter.

So she cocked one red eyebrow and said: "Morning, assholes!"