Author's note: I've always wanted to write a Mentalist fic about high school, so here it is! I tried to set it in America but I'm actually from Britain so sorry for any discrepancies about the school system or anything. I only know about American schools from films. Hopefully it's fairly realistic! Enjoy!

Patrick Jane stepped out of the car and shouldered his new blue backpack over his school blazer. His social worker wished him luck with his day and pulled away from the drop off point. He liked his social worker, Kristina Frye. She never talked down to him and seemed to understand his troubles, being an ex-psychic herself. Patrick was sent to Palm Desert Social Housing after running away from the circus and his abusive father. He remembered refusing to do a reading that day, and his dad getting more than mad… Patrick blinked heavily and shook the memory out of his head, looking up at the oppressive building in front of him. The red brick made the place seem dark and shadowy and the large white steps leading up to the doors were oversized and scuffed with shoe marks. The name "CAROLINE BUTLER INSTITUTE" was written in large black letters above the door. Patrick wasn't overly happy about being sent here. CBI was an institute for troubled teens, he didn't consider himself to be troubled, perhaps just less sociable than other teenagers but nevertheless, here he was. Patrick sighed heavily, shifted his bag on his shoulders and began his way up the large white steps. He passed many groups of teenagers chatting and playing. He gave a wide berth to the group that was fighting and approached the large wooden doors. Everything seemed so big and overwhelming. Patrick was walking along the concrete towards the door when a brunette girl ran past, barging him with her shoulder. He fell forward, stopping himself from completely falling with his hands.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry…"

The brunette had stopped and put a hand on Patrick's arm to help him steady himself.

"Oh, I was in such a rush, I didn't mean…"

"That's ok…"

Patrick looked down, shuffling his feet. The brunette was flustered but calmed down with his soft, quiet words. She looked up with beautiful green eyes.

"I'm Teresa, Teresa Lisbon. I'm in 8th grade."

Patrick looked up.

"I'm in 8th grade too"

Patrick half smiled then fiddled with the front of his jumper. He was a bit worried. He'd noticed all the other boys just wore shirt, tie and blazer but he wore a black jumper vest over his shirt; he thought it looked smarter. Teresa seemed to notice his worry.

"I think you look real smart."

She smiled at him, a cheeky grin. Patrick couldn't help but smile back.

"What class you got first?"

"Uhh…"

Patrick dug out an already crumpled timetable from his pocket.

"It says English."

Teresa grabbed his arm and pulled him through the main door.

"Come on, I'll show you where it is. We're gonna be late!"

Patrick ran along behind Teresa through a maze of graffiti filled corridors, stopping at a lighter coloured door. Patrick could hear a male teacher speaking inside.

"We're late…"

Teresa whispered as she quietly opened the door. Patrick followed slowly.

"Ah, Teresa. Late as usual!"

The male teacher had turned from his board, clutching a pen between his hands.

"Luckily for you I haven't yet taken attendance."

"Sorry Mr Wainwright…"

Teresa walked past a row of desks, taking a seat near the back. Patrick stood by the door, looking for somewhere to sit. All the class were staring at him.

"Hello, you must be Patrick."

Mr Wainwright walked over and shook his hand. Patrick shuffled his feet and stared at the floor.

"Do you want to introduce yourself Patrick?"

He looked up. The class stared back at him apprehensively. He had already guessed why every individual was at the school and had worked out that Mr Wainwright may not be as nice as he seemed- that he was hiding something. He couldn't help reading people as he saw them, which was why he spent a lot of the time staring at the floor.

"I'm Patrick Jane. I'm new here. I've never been to school before."

A few murmurs rippled through the class. Mr Wainwright quietened them with his hand.

"Thank you Patrick. You can sit over there by Teresa. Just don't take any tips from her about time keeping."

Mr Wainwright shot a glance at Teresa, who smiled innocently.

"Right, attendance. Warren? Smith?"

The teacher continued to call names.

"Lisbon."

"Yes Sir."

Teresa leaned over to Patrick's desk.

"They only use surnames in the register…"

Patrick slumped in his seat. He didn't like his surname. People made fun of it for sounding like a girl. He waited for the giggling.

"Jane…"

"Yes sir…"

Patrick mumbled. The class sniggered as he slumped down further in his seat. Teresa shot him a concerned glance.

"Ok class, let's get on with Shakespeare."

Patrick sighed. He knew all of Shakespeare's works, word for word, in order. This could be a boring day.

English dragged on for a whole double lesson. At one point, Patrick had been asked why he wasn't doing the work and his answer had got him a laugh from his class members, and a swift first detention from the teacher, for supposedly 'lying.' Patrick tried to explain that he did know all of Shakespeare's work already but only succeeded in adding an extra 5 minutes to his after school detention. The class had been disruptive the whole lesson; no surprise, it being a school for troubled teens. Teresa was to be kept behind for 5 minutes for being wrongly accused of throwing a rubber at the teacher's head along with another boy who had thrown a pencil.

Patrick left the classroom, thankful that the un-disciplined lesson was over. Mr Wainwright knew how to give detentions, practically handing out one to everyone in the class but no-one behaved anyway. Patrick leant against the wall outside, waiting for Teresa as he didn't know where to go for break time and didn't know who else to ask. He stood outside the classroom and thought. He knew why the teacher was no good with discipline; he was scared. He pretended to be tough but wasn't. Sometimes Patrick wished he couldn't read into people so easily. He just wanted to be normal.

His train of thought was interrupted by a large boy standing in front of him. There were two other boys next to him, all three clearly older than Patrick.

"What's your name new kid?"

Patrick guessed the boy in the middle was the ring leader; the other two just followed him, nodding after he finished speaking.

"I said what's your name?"

The main boy stepped towards Patrick, causing him to press up against the wall.

"Um… Patrick…"

He mumbled the words looking down at his feet. He older boy laughed.

"What's your surname?"

The boy was patronising. Patrick knew that he already knew his surname.

"Jane…"

Patrick's voice was quiet and low. The three bullies erupted into laughter. He didn't think it was that funny.

"You hear that. Jane! Jane's a sissy girl. You know what we do to sissy girls…"

The other two boys nodded and moved in closer. Patrick breathed heavier and thought quickly. He hated conflict.

"Stop!"

The older boy lowered his raised fist.

"You don't have to do this. You're just trying to fill up that macho man void in your life that occurred when your abusive dad left you."

The main boy twitched.

"What…"

"You're just scared and hide behind this tough exterior to block out all the pain you feel inside. Hurting other people doesn't achieve anything…"

Patrick's heart was beating fast.

"Shut up! You bastard…"

The older boy's face contorted to anger and he raised his fist behind his head. Patrick flinched and covered his head with his hands, expecting the blow.

"Sam, leave him alone!"

Patrick uncovered his face to see the older boy turned away, facing two younger boys standing defiant in the corridor.

"Oh look, Bert and Ernie are saving the girl."

The taller of the younger boys stepped forward with his hands on his hips.

"It's Wayne and Cho, for your information and he looks pretty damn like a boy to me."

The other younger boy stood solemnly behind his friend with his hands behind his back. The taller lad stood firm as the older boy stepped right up to his face.

"You're asking for it…"

Patrick expected a fight to ensue however at that moment, the English room door swung open and Mr Wainwright walked out, followed by Teresa and the other class member.

"Sam…"

Mr Wainwright stood on the spot, staring at the older boy who proceeded to stand up straight, glaring at the younger two lads. He mouthed a threat to them and then sauntered over to Patrick, who tensed up.

"You better watch you back mate, cause you've got it coming…"

With that, the three older boys walked off down the corridor, followed by a relieved looking Mr Wainwright. Teresa walked over to the younger boys.

"What was that all about?"

The solemn faced boy answered, walking over towards Patrick.

"Just Sam Bosco trying to be all hard- ass again. You alright mate?"

Patrick nodded.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'm Kimball Cho, most people call me Cho. That's Wayne."

The taller boy stepped forward,

"Wayne Rigsby."

"I'm Patrick Jane. Uh, thanks for helping me just then…"

Wayne smiled.

"It's alright. Sam Bosco's a bully. Picks on anyone he can see. You better watch out for him. You annoyed him some…"

Patrick nodded.

"I just told him what he already knew inside. I guess people don't wanna hear that sort of thing…"

Wayne began to walk down the corridor, gesturing for Patrick to walk with him.

"Nah, I think Sam would use any excuse to hit someone. Just the way he is."

Cho interjected.

"He picked on me when I first got here, just for looking at him. Just stick with us, you'll be fine."

Patrick smiled.

"Thanks."

Teresa coughed loudly.

"What about thanking someone who helped you to your English class…"

She smiled her cheeky smile again.

"What? Thank someone who made me late…"

Teresa laughed.

"It wasn't that that gave you a detention. Do you actually know the whole works of Shakespeare?"

Patrick chuckled as he walked into the school canteen with his new friends.

"Sure I do. You wanna hear?"