"Well hey, maybe they'll letcha bring Stuie home so you can drive yourself to the tutor?" Paj hadn't looked out from under the Neon's hood. Rebecca Watson's car-she recognized the retro bumper sticker she thought should have gone out with the Reagan era: If You're Rich, I'm Single. Brilliant.

"Ha! I wish. This guy lives around the corner. They made sure I could walk and no one would have to be bothered to drive me, or that I would have to, god forbid, drive myself. Eighteen years old and I still ride the friggin' bus to school.

It's pathetic. Isn't that Becky's car again? What'd she do to it this time?" Cat swung her long legs down, and came over to inspect the engine, interested.

"Forgot to put oil in her… again."

"Cheerleaders suck." Cat snorted. Paj grinned and shrugged. Yeah, that's exactly why she's getting her car fixed for free, too. Cat rolled her eyes.

Paj glanced over at her, then raised his eyebrows. "Hey, you don't wear skirts. What is it, national suck up to your math teacher day?"

"Do you like it?" Cat did a little twirl, flaring the navy blue pleats a little, exposing one pale, thin thigh. "It's my English school girl outfit. Navy skirt, white button down, knee socks, Mary Jane's." He cocked his head, as if waiting for a punch line. "The new tutor is English. You know, from England. Thought it might help."

Paj chuckled, ducking his head back under the hood. "Girlie, he's not the one giving you the test. How's it gonna help you get a better score?"

"Well it can't hurt." Cat pouted. "It works for girls like Becky."

Paj cleared his throat, flipping the wing nut back on the oil pan. "Well sweetie, and I'm going to say this with all honesty and as much tact as this old man's got-Rebecca Watson has…a figure."