Disclaimer: The usual business about not owning Rizzoli & Isles

A/N: If you're looking for a slow ride towards Rizzles, I'm your girl.

Jane Rizzoli snuck a bunny-shaped pancake from the kitchen table, and held a finger to her lips. Her mother, Angela, was at the stove turning bacon, and as long as her younger brothers, Frankie and Tommy, kept quiet, there was a good chance she could make it to the door undetected. She tiptoed across the worn linoleum, avoiding the spots that creaked. Her hand was on the doorknob, when she chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Tommy, the eldest of her brothers, smiled sweetly. "Morning Jane!"

Angela whirled so fast, bacon fat flew off her spatula and landed at Jane's feet. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"School." Jane said, shooting Tommy her foulest stinkeye. "Unless you've changed your mind about me joining the circus?"

Angela wiped her hands on her apron and looked her daughter up and down. "Not even the circus would take you in those clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Jane asked. She smoothed her faded Ramones t-shirt and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

"You look like a boy."

Tommy and Frankie burst out laughing, and Jane felt her face grow red. This was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid; yet another battle with her mother over her appearance. "I learn better when I'm comfortable."

"But people will respect you more if you take some pride in your appearance. I thought you were going to make an effort this year."

"I am making an effort."

"Ripped jeans and a t-shirt you scooped off the floor of your room is not an effort. Honey, this is you last year at high school, your last chance to try and fit in and make a few friends."

"I have friends."

"Korsak and Frost and those boys you run around with?" Angela shook her head. "A girl your age should have girlfriends."

Jane kicked at a flap of the floor that was peeling. "The girls at STD's all suck."

Tommy and Frankie snickered.

"I've asked you repeatedly not to call it that," Angela said. "And if you made an effort with them – did your hair, put on a little makeup – I'm sure they'd come around."

"While you're at it," Tommy said, "pluck that caterpillar growing across your forehead."

Jane crossed the room and socked his arm so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

"Hey!" Angela yelled. She hauled Jane away by her ear. "No fighting at the table."

Jane twisted out of her grip and glared. A curl escaped her ponytail, and Angela smoothed it down. It sprang back up at a ridiculous angle, and Angela sighed. "How are you going to get a boyfriend if you don't make an effort?"

"Gee Ma, I was kind of hoping they'd like me for me."

"That's asking a lot," Frankie said.

Angela shot him a warning look. "Be nice."

Jane stuck out her tongue.

"And, you," Angela said. "Be a girl!"

Jane retracted her tongue. "Whatever."

"Don't you whatever me. I know that right now you think school sucks, and I suck, and you have the worst life in the world. But one day you'll wake up and it'll all be over, and you'll be sorry you wasted it because life doesn't get easier Jane, it gets harder."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Can I go now?"

"You didn't eat breakfast."

Jane looked down at the cold bunny pancake in her hand, and whipped it at the back of Tommy's head. "Lost my appetite," she said, storming out the door.

...

Jane pulled up in front of Frost's house in her orange Camaro, and leaned on the horn. The boys we're running late, as usual. She rested her head on the steering wheel and frowned. It didn't matter that she was a straight-A student or the captain of the varsity field hockey team; Ma just wanted her to be a girl. What the hell did that even mean? Because if it was dresses, makeup and batting her eyes at boys like a mindless twit, she'd rather pass.

Pounding at the passenger side window made her jump. It was Barry Frost, dressed head to toe in mustard-yellow denim. Jane bit back a laugh and unlocked his door. "Who'd you have to pimp to pay for that pimp suit?"

"Your mom." Frost flashed her his toothiest grin.

Jane shook her head. "I walked right into that one."

"Yup."

Frost got in, and they bumped fists.

"Where's Korsak?"

"Inside, trying to eat us out of house and home."

Jane wasn't surprised. Korsak lived four houses down and had been sneaking second breakfasts at the Frosts' ever since he could crawl. "Well, he is a growing boy."

"In every direction."

They chuckled, and Jane pumped the horn.

The front door flew open, and Vincent Korzak came barreling down the path with two large brown paper bags in tow. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Geesh!"

Frost got out so Korzak could get in, and Korzak shoved one of the brown bags at his chest. "You forgot your lunch, Nimrod." He grinned at Jane and punched her in the arm. "How's it hanging Rizzoli?"

"A hell of a lot higher than yours. What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Mrs. Frost made hashbrowns. And, way more importantly, today, we're officially seniors!"

"Amen!" Frost said.

They all bumped fists.

"Only one more year to go, guys." Jane pulled out of the driveway. "Let's make it a good one."

...

Maura Isles sat in the back of a gleaming town car, twisting the ring on her middle finger. Six months ago, the idea of finishing her last year of secondary education at an American public school had seemed like a wonderful adventure. Today, it seemed downright foolish. While she had never made any real friends at Saint-Marguerite's, the Parisian boarding school she had attended for the past five years, at least there she had known the lay of the land.

The car hit a pothole and Maura struggled to hold on to her breakfast. It appeared the fruit and toast she'd eaten earlier were as desperate to escape her situation as she was. She patted her stomach, and reminded herself that her mother had kept up payments to St. Marguerite's just in case she found the Boston public system lacking. Was the morning before her first class too soon to throw in the towel?

No one seriously expected her to last one day with the Jennies and Johnnies of middleclass America, not even her. What had she been thinking? But she knew exactly what she'd been thinking. That maybe, back home things would be different; A tall, athletic boy would give her his letterman jacket, and they'd stroll down the hall hand in hand, a tightly knit circle of friends trailing steps behind. No one would find her intelligence intimidating. And for once in her life she would fit in.

It was a nice fantasy, but now that she was minutes from her new school, reality was pleading its case; the year they put glue in her hair, the year they decorated her room with maxi pads, the year no one talked to her after the first week except for the teacher. She closed her eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. Maybe this time really would be different.

When she opened her eyes, the chauffeur was watching her in the rearview mirror. She forced a smile, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt. Her parents were probably tipping the man extra to keep an eye on her. Her smile faltered. They had thought nothing of flying off to Hong Kong during her first month of school. "You've never needed us around before?" they had reasoned, and Maura hadn't had the heart to tell them it wasn't true. She had always needed them but never known how to ask them to stay.

Of course, that line of thinking would only lead to crying, and the subsequent indignity of mascara-stained cheeks. Maura ran her palms along her dress, concentrating on the feel of the fabric. Smooth, cool, unapologetically rich. If only she could learn to be more like her clothes. A quick check in the side mirror confirmed her makeup was expertly applied, enhancing her natural beauty while disguising her age – two years younger than most of her classmates. If they didn't like her, it wouldn't be because of her appearance. But there was something sad about that, too.

The car rolled to a stop and Maura looked out the window. They'd arrived at a red brick building with an industrial-looking sign that welcomed her to St. Dominic High School, home of the Badgers. Flocks of students milled about on a great yellow lawn littered with chip bags and cigarettes. Some kids were laughing and greeting friends. Most looked bored.

"We're here," said the chauffeur.

"Yes."

He waited a minute, then cleared his throat.

Maura gathered her purse and leather attaché case.

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

"No," Maura cried.

He paused with his hand on the door.

"It's okay, don't get up." Hopefully the tinted mirrors had hidden his uniform. It was bad enough that she had arrived in an expensive car.

He nodded, and popped the locks, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. "I'll be back to pick you up at four, but you can call me sooner if you need to. You've got the card?"

"Yes, thank you." Maura paused with her hand on the door handle. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The driver shook his head and pulled away, thinking what it wasn't his place to say.