Frodo walked into the cafeteria with his lunch pack in his hand, trying to look calm as he searched for a seat. Nervously, he rubbed his hands and kept walking.

"Where to sit. . . where to sit. . ." he muttered under his breath.

He was thinking that he was in quite a dilemma, when a slightly rotund boy energetically waved to him—moving back and forth in his seat as his hands went to-and-fro.

Some kids snickered as Frodo crept past them to where the boy sat. Others frowned when they saw Frodo make his way towards the boy. They obviously don't like him. Frodo thought as he noticed that the boy was sitting by himself—he silently noted that this was how it was every day.

Upon reaching the table, the Frodo received a friendly smile from the strawberry blonde. The boy's curls bounced as his head bobbed up and down when he greeted Frodo.

He chirped happily, "Good morning, Mister Frodo! Isn't it lovely outside?"

Frodo gave him a weak smile and replied, "I suppose so. . . But, to be honest, I like it better when it rains."

"Really? I always thought that the rain ruined everything—but, then again. . . It does water my garden, and it makes all the flowers happy. Oh! And it always smells so pretty outside after it rains." Sam tilted his head and rested his chin in his hand, seeming to be in deep contemplation.

Frodo was thinking of subjects other than the rain. He doesn't have many friends. . . Maybe he likes it that way. . . ? Sam had never seemed very popular with the other kids. His polite remarks and strange mannerisms had set him apart from the rest of the kids, who all mostly seemed to be sarcastic and rude.

"Hey! Mister Frodo," Sam seemed to be finished thinking about the rain. "Do you want to come over to my house after class?" He smiled brightly and Frodo couldn't help but feel guilty.

He was going to say 'sure', he was going to say 'sure', he swore he was—until he heard a snicker from the table beside theirs. He glanced over quickly and saw Boromir, a red-headed rich boy with a smirking face, wave his fingers at him. Frodo faced Sam again and was about to shout out a rather loud 'NO', but when he saw Sam's eyes shining with excitement, he just couldn't.

"Sure, Sam. . . That'd be great. . ." He stuttered.

Sam leapt up from the table and ran around to the other side. He hugged Frodo's middle tightly ad grinned from ear to ear.

"I'm so excited! I can show you my garden! And then my house! And my backyard! And my room! And my. . ."

"Ok, Sam," Frodo interrupted. "Please sit down now. . ." He almost whined when he heard Boromir's mocking laughter.

Sam complied with the request, skipped to his side and sat down on the bench. He shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and bashfully stared the table.

Frodo groaned, this was going to be a long afternoon.