Alagaesia High

Chapter 1: First Day of School

Psych! You don't get a chapter yet! Yes, I know how many times this has been done, but I swear, mine is the best. At least the most accurate. In this one, Murtagh isn't all buddy buddy with Eragon. BECAUSE THEY TRIED TO KILL EACH OTHER! Contrary to popular belief, they weren't at all friends except on the first! Sure, Eragon still liked him, but no. They weren't on the same side, let's put it like that. Now, onto the story. And oh yeah, ExA, SxE (Not romantic, just super friendship), MxT (Same), and maybe some other pairings. Like RxK. ONWARDS! FOR ASLAN!

Eragon woke to a sharp pain on his face. "What? Who?" he sputtered, and then struck blindly. "Hey! Last I checked you weren't out to get me!" A familiar voice shouted.

"Roran, I could have sworn that you've been in our room before." He grumbled as he rose.

"That makes no sense. I've slept in here for more years than I care to count." Roran replied, perplexed.

"Then why is it that you remain completely unaware that we own an alarm clock?" Eragon demanded.

"Today's a special day, you blasted fool! You forgot to set your alarm early enough!" Roran explained, quite aggravated. Immediately, Eragon began flipping through important days. Garrow had turned fifty-seven a month ago, Katrina and Roran's anniversary was a few weeks away, it certainly wasn't the anniversary of when he and Saphira had met, OH DEAR GOD! THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

"Judging by the shocked look on your face, I'm guessing that you remember. Your first day as a junior? Sound familiar?" Roran mocked.

"Don't patronize me; I have a lot on my mind." Eragon grumbled. "Like devising a clever way to kiss Arya? That doesn't count bro." Eragon went scarlet, mumbled incoherently, and stormed out the door. "Don't blame me that you're lovesick!" Roran called after him.

Garrow was waiting in the kitchen with a bag loaded with school supplies that Eragon knew he would never need and a Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich in the other hand.

As Eragon bumbled into the room, Garrow declared mockingly "Attitude? Check. Klutziness? Check. Lethargy? Check." Then adopting a more fatherly attitude, he tossed both the sandwich, which Eragon caught haphazardly in his mouth, and the bag, which he caught by tucking his chin to his chest at the exact moment necessary, leaving the ancient backpack dangling by one of those useless loops that are always on old backpacks.

However, Eragon soon discovered that, due to the fact that the jaw is hinged in such a way that it opens downward, chewing whilst holding his backpack in this manner was a difficult, if not impossible, proposition.

As Garrow caught sight of Eragon attempting to toss his backpack in the air by converting his spine into a whiplash device, he muttered "Don't even think about it." Eragon sighed, as best he could, and simply lifted his chin, allowing the dusty bag to fall, albeit mundanely, into his arms. Roran then bustled in, snatched his already packed satchel, and rushed out the door.

"What is he doing? The bus doesn't get here 'till seven O' five." Eragon asked with an air of exasperation. However, due to the aforesaid Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich located in his mouth, it came out more like "Wha is ee doin? Da bus doethn't ge eer 'till sheven O' five."

Garrow glanced at him and explained "He's decided to walk to school. Heaven knows why, doesn't make any sense to me."

A broad grin was about to split Eragon's face when he recalled the seemingly mischievously inclined sandwich in his mouth and decided against it. The purpose behind the nonexistent smile was that Eragon couldn't help but suspect that it was a design to see Katrina. Rather clever of Roran, he thought, and then amended, at least compared to his other plans.

"So, Dad, what are your words of wisdom for today?" Eragon inquired, referring to Garrow's deep-seated tradition of sending his sons (True, Eragon was adopted, but they couldn't have been closer if they were related by blood) to important events with a few words of advice. Sometimes they were as simple as "That orange shirt clashes with your pants. Change." Or as deep as "If an ailment is so great that you cannot bring yourself to laugh about it, then you are on Death's Door".

Garrow sighed and intoned "A man that can make a simple thing complicated is a clever man. A man that can make something complicated simple, he is a genius." Eragon glanced up in surprise. He had been under the impression that Garrow was running out of sayings, but this one was new.

"Well said, Dad." Eragon replied simply, and for a moment they shared a moment of content. Then a loud honk notified Eragon that Brom, the bus driver/ gym teacher, was waiting for him.

"Bye!" Eragon yelped, and barreled out the door.

Brom hurled a small pebble at him and hollered "I don't care if you're having a special moment with your girlfriend, get in the **** bus!" Brom was strange that way. He cursed without restraint, and didn't hesitate to refer to "awkward" subjects. He was also renowned for his sharp aim with an eraser, which came in handy during "awkward" lectures. Most students had learned not to giggle during such lectures. Occasionally a wayward snicker would escape, shortly followed by a whistle similar to that of an eraser flung at high speeds. Almost identical, in fact.

The pebble bounced off of Eragon's head, but he didn't notice. He was a tad bit busy staring at the lone girl that sat in the back of the bus. That was where she sat every day, way in the back where all the bumps where the worst. No one ever sat by her. Sure, every once in a while a kid would plop down next to her, but they never actually sat next to her. They sat in that seat, which just happened to be next to Arya.

This time, Brom grabbed a larger rock and threw it even harder. And at lower regions of Eragon than his head. A small groan escaped his lips as it made quite solid contact. A bunch of short kids who sat together (Called themselves the dwarves.) winced in sympathetic pain as Eragon stumbled to the bus. The elves, some tall, athletic jocks, broke out in laughter. Then there was every one in between, who simply didn't care. And then there was Arya, the lonely girl. She just kept her eyes trained on him.

Thus, it was quite easy for Eragon to fantasize that she was admiring his muscles. Though, if you read her thoughts, you would find that it wasn't quite as different as one might think. Arya just didn't know it yet.

Ya know what's weird? There wasn't very much actual substance in this chapter. Eragon eats breakfast, talks to his Dad, gets beaned by a rock, admires Arya, gets beaned with a heavier rock in his soft spot. That's basically it. And I classified the elves as the athlete jocks. Bam! And yet, I somehow managed to take up 1328 words with it.

And now, my Reader-Blodhgarm RP!

Reader: You do realize that you are quite possibly the most unoriginal person that ever lived?

Raudhr Blodhgarm: Why yes. Yes I do. BUT MINE IS BETTER! OR AT LEAST I DELUDE MYSELF THAT IT IS!

Reader: Sure.

Raudhr Blodhgarm: *Throws Eraser* Brom sends his regards! Drives away in uber-high-tech black car. (That wasn't a Green Hornet reference at all. On that subject, Sarcasm is just great!)

Reader: My forehead that contains a brain that is incapable of comprehending Raudhr Blodhgarm's amazing literature! It burns!

Raudhr: No, that was unfair. I'm sure some smart people read my work. I'll rewrite it.

Reader: My forehead! It burns! (This is an edited version of the original sentence. Do not distribute.)