So much for two chapters. Now I'm predicting that this may hit like … seven chapters. I wasn't supposed to have any plans for this. I mean – look at it! I can barely take it seriously.

That's said, it's lot of fun to write.

Quirkiness ahead.

Act 10: Where Meaning was Ripped Apart, then Stuck Back with Glue, then Discard for Other Things

"Will you go to Prom with me?"

"No."

She was at exactly the same spot again, studying exactly the same book under the same horrid sun, being asked exactly the same question and giving exactly the same answer. The only difference was the response.

She heard a light-hearted chuckle. "Okay."

Elsa raised her head, surprised by this reaction. She was even more surprised when she noted that he had taken a seat next to her on the bench. On his lap, he had his own worksheets and writing pad, as well as a pencil case which he had strapped to his arm (childish, unfashionable, but practical, she admitted in her mind). He removed a pen from his case and began to write, referencing to the worksheet as he did.

She stared at him for exactly three minutes (she knew, because she checked), before she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Studying," he answered promptly – eagerly, almost as if he had been waiting for that very question. He nodded to the book in her hands. "Like you."

Elsa raised a brow at him, but he didn't see it, because he directed his own gaze back to the foolscap and began solving a complex sum. She then said, "Can't you study somewhere else?"

He looked up at her, then gazed at their surroundings, at the lush green lawn where other students were lolling around in the morning, then to the rows of other empty benches around the courtyard – benches that actually had tables, so that he didn't need hunch himself over to write.

Then, he told her without a flinch, "Nope."

He returned to working.

At this time, suspicion began to swell in Elsa's mind and she stared at her uninvited companion more intently. If he felt her eyes burning into him, he did a good job of not letting it show. He had already completed on the first two questions of the list, and now began on his third.

Unable to take it any longer, she said, "I know what you're doing."

"What-what-" he scribbled a few symbols down before raising his head "-sorry, what am I doing?"

"You're going to sit down there until I say 'yes', aren't you?" When he didn't reply, Elsa went on, "Well, it won't work. It might surprise your small, undeveloped masculine brain, but when a girl says 'no', she really does mean 'no'."

"Really?" He didn't lift his head, but there was a small smile stretching onto his lips, threatening to burst into a full grin. "How do you really know when you're saying 'no'?"

"What do you mean?" She scrunched her face up at him. "Of course I know when I'm saying 'no'. How can I not know? It's coming straight of my mouth."

"Well, really simple, actually." Oh, there it was – that cheeky grin. Like the horrible sun rising up from the looming horizon, threatening ruin the rest of her day with its sunbeams. "You can not say 'no' by saying 'yes'."

Elsa rolled her eyes at him. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh?" His head was raised now, his blue eyes gleaming at her – blue eyes that warned of imminent and undesired mischief. "I thought you were in the habit of saying what you mean. But, really-" he went on before she could retort "- if you say one thing and the person you're speaking to interprets it in another way, then who really knows what's really being said? The person speaking, or the person hearing? I mean, communication is a two-party thing. Perhaps one person says something, but the interpretation of it by the hearer different from his intention, but could still an valid interpretation, then what was said could very well also be what interpreted, as per the hearer, as well as that of sayer. In then case, what was really said does not having a single meaning, but two – what was intended by the sayer and what interpreted by the hearer. Therefore-" he pointed his pen at her dramatically "-what you intended to convey when you said 'no' is as a valid meaning of what you had conveyed as much as my interpretation of it."

Elsa gave him a long look, before saying very slowly, "Do you have any idea what you just said?"

Jack shrugged nonchalantly, lowering his pen. "Nope."

"Well, here's a word that I can teach you for it." She grabbed his pen from him, then pulled herself over to scrawl a word on his worksheet, right over his completed sums. She then handed the pen back to him, feeling a bit smug. "It means 'words which have no meaning', which you, without doubt, must have ample supply of."

Reveling in her victory, Elsa was actually smirking a little as she returned to bury her head in back into the Victorian goodness that was Pride and Prejudice.

Until, nauseatingly bright and cheerful - "Will you go to Prom with me?"

"NO!"

Act 11: Where the Glass was Protested to be Half-Full when it was Clearly Half-Empty

"Hey, Bunnymund!"

The Australian student scowled upon recognition of the voice. Considering how much time he had to spend with his roommate in after-hours, he preferred not to over-interact with Jack during school time.

Being the polite fellow, he lifted his head from his laptop, turned to the white-haired boy and growled through clenched teeth, "WHAT?"

The boy was completely unfazed. "Look!" Bunnymund found a piece of foolscap being shoved into his face. "She wrote me a note!"

It took him a moment to read the scrawled writing before Bunnymund remarked, gazing critically at his roommate, "She wrote 'Balderdash'. Do you know what that means?"

Jack made a huff of annoyance. "Of course I know what it means! But look!" He jabbed at the paper, grinning so gleefully that Bunnymund was tempted to punch it off. "We're communicating!"

"If a girl writes 'Balderdash' on a piece of paper to you, I think it's safe to assume that you are not actually communicating," Bunnymund deadpanned. "Especially if she thinks whatever you say is just, well, balderdash."

But no, the white-haired boy refused to see it the right way. "Hey, at least she's talking to me. It's better than being ignored."

"In that case,-" the Australian boy craned his neck forward to the laptop screen, turning pointedly away from his roommate "-I'm going to ignore you now."

Act 12: Where the Heroine's Plan took a One-Way to Rubbish Land along with The Confectionary

When the break bell rang, Elsa was uncharacteristically nervous. Well, to be fair, she actually did have a habit of being nervous for numerous things, but she was usually much better at hiding it. Upon exiting her own classroom, she pushed her way through the throng of students, politely but firmly asking people to move away. Most who recognized her steered clear of her path – after all, it was said that offending the Snow Queen was as deadly as waking a grizzly bear in hibernation.

In her chest, the beat of her heart was especially distinct in her mind, despite he chatter that flooded around her. She was not used to initiating any form of conversation, even less a conversation that would lead to even more conversation. Words, which flowed so naturally from her pen, had a habit of sticking themselves to her throat. Nonetheless, she took one glance at the chocolate bar that sat on the top of books she carried and resolve flooded her once more. That cheeky white-haired irritant, for all his intolerable antics, was right in one thing – she should do more to connect to her sister.

So here was her plan – her haphazard, reckless, absolutely dangerous, deadly plan:

To have lunch with her sister. This was obviously a task of great difficulty and even in her mind, Elsa vaguely compared it to the labors of Heracles.

As she descended the staircase leading to the classroom, she caught sight of Anna standing right at the bottom of the steps. That was certainly serendipitous.

The presence of redheaded boy standing next to her, however, was not.

Elsa watched in horror as Anna accepted the bouquet of roses from the senior student – the ex-boyfriend who had just sent her into a fit of bawling for two whole hours and decrying the validity of true love (Elsa didn't actually witness this herself, but heard it from Merida who heard it from Flynn, who it heard from Rapunzel, who was her roommate). This was the person that Anna directed her blushing gaze to now. This was the cad that she tiptoed on the balls of her feet to kiss.

And suddenly, all the warmth that she had building in her heart was blown away, and the Snow Queen frosted all over.

Marching over determinedly down steps, cutting a line through the students who were ascending the stairs, Elsa was arrived at the bottom just in time for Anna to break away from Hans, who now gazed at her adoringly when a mere day ago he dismissed her a sneer. The younger girl turned to her sister, and completely oblivious to rising fury, met her with a wave and cheer, "Elsa! Guess what?"

The blonde girl didn't miss the beat. "Hans and you are back together again and he's taking you to Prom?" She peered skeptically at the redheaded senior, whose soft gaze had hardened upon her arrival.

"Well, yes!" Anna was clearly very excited – wrongly excited. She thrust the bouquet towards her sister's face, making Elsa flinch back in surprise. "Look at what he bought me!"

"Yes," the elder girl battered this away with the chocolate bar – the same chocolate bar which she was supposed to use as some sort of 'emotional- connector-thingamajig' to her sister – before saying quite coolly, "Anna, may I speak to you? In private?"

Unfortunately, the brunette girl in twin braids, though dense, was not stupid. Anna had noted the change in tone, so instead of agreeing, she clung to her date's arm more, holding more tightly towards herself. "No. Whatever you want to say, you can say to us."

This answer took Elsa surprise. She was not used to her sister asserting herself, especially towards herself. Her coldness only became colder.

"Very well." She drew herself to her full height. "You do not get back together with ex-boyfriends, who had called you – quote - 'stupid, naïve and desperate' – unquote - especially if they had once flirted with your sister in order to steal her research work."

"Excuse me!"

"For the record, I did not steal your research work!"

"Oh, please." Elsa glared at the redhead boy, who looked very indignant – falsely, she thought. "Don't think I don't know it wasn't you, because I do."

"You don't have proof of that," the boy scoffed at her, tugging his arm away from Anna that moment to fold his arms together, earning a surprised look from his newly regained 'girlfriend'. "Besides, I think you're just jealous that your sister has someone else to share her life, with while you live it alone – as a sour, frosted, old hag."

Elsa frowned – not the irritated, exasperated frown she used often Anna, but the deep-seated, gut-gnawing frown that she used only the highest of offenses. She took a threatening step towards the proud redhead, only for Anna to step in front of him, shielding this useless, vile, insolent creep from her sister's wrath.

But wrath, deflected or defended against, was still wrath. Elsa glared down at the pig-tailed girl and said, her manner tight and rigid, "Mark my words, Anna. You'll regret this."

Not waiting for the girl to reply, the Snow Queen swept herself away, walking rigidly away. The chocolate bar went straight to the bin, as did the plans for lunch. Only when the blonde girl was seated alone on her usual dining spot, one that only a fool would dare to cross, did she feel a pang of remorse in her heart. But by the time she glanced back down to the lower floor of the canteen, Anna was already sitting side by side with her 'true love', blowing kisses to each other while eating sandwiches. Elsa could barely keep the bile from rising up her throat.

Anna and her choices. Her very poor choices.

Elsa had never truly feared being alone, so returning to that state had never bothered her anyway. But she could not help but feel as if she had just slammed shut a door and opportunity might not come knockin' back around anytime soon.

Act 13: Where Everyone just kept Talking In the Library when the Word 'Library' itself should have Automatically Inspired Silence (These guys. Really…)

"Hey! Fancy you studying in the library too."

"Not now, Jack."

His face brightened. "You actually remembered my name!"

She didn't even look at him. She didn't even look at the book that was laid out in front of her. Her eyes were just glued morosely to the window-ledge of the library window. He looked at that particular window-ledge hard for a moment, then told her in a soft voice, "I don't see it."

This got a crooked brow from her. "See what?"

"What's so great about Neo-Baroque architecture, that's what!" Jack said with exaggerated passion. "Why is there a need for a school to build itself in a manner that has been outdated for a reason? It's kind of stupid, don't you think? We can't we just build ugly, weird buildings in abstract forms and made from environmentally-friendly products?"

He waited for a scathing remark, or a scornful contradiction, or even a dismissive sniff, but all he got was silence. When Jack looked at her again, she was still staring into space, no more happy or upset than she was a few seconds ago.

Sighing, he sat himself next to her, dropping his arms on the table. "Care to share?"

"Not really," was her stiff answer.

"It's to do with your sister."

"We're not talking about this."

"Did you do the chocolate thing?"

"None of your business."

"Well, why didn't you? Unless you chickened out, or … you guys fought."

"I'm not going to deny or confirm anything."

"Why did you guys fight over? Studies? Relationships? Boys? It's totally boys."

"Stop it."

"It's not you, because you're not in any relationships A.T.M.," he mused aloud, not ignoring her low growl. "So it's your sister. It's a relationship you don't approve of." The blonde girl was giving him a sidelong look, so he decided to check. "Am I right?"

"How did you do that?" she asked, seeming a little less fierce now that he had her distracted.

He shrugged. "I guessed." When she continued to stare at him, he then re-emphasised, "I mean it. I just guessed it. Your life isn't honestly that interesting, you know. Vaguely chick-flick material."

"Oh, is it?" There were warning signs all her face – tightened jaw, narrowing brows, eyes turning into slits.

"Yeah, you know how-" Jack cut himself off when he noticed the hostility in her expression. Quickly changing the subject - "Anyway, um, why don't approve of him?"

"Because he's a sly, conniving little cheat," she murmured, sounding more vindictive than usual. The pen in her hand was squeezed tightly as she curled her fingers into a ball, as if she was pretending that it was the person on her mind. "Anna just refuses to see that, even after he'd hurt her."

"Did you try talking to her?" the boy asked.

"I did. We didn't even fight properly. Hans just called me names and dragged her off. Anna didn't stop him." She shook her head, flipping a page in her book roughly for emphasis. "It's ridiculous."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so fierce to her," Jack murmured. It was actually personal note, but he had uttered it louder than he had meant to, thus earning a quizzical glance from her. "I guessed that too. I'm pretty good at guessing things to."

"I was trying to make a point," the girl excused herself vehemently. "And I wasn't fierce. I was, well, I was -"

"Harsh? Cool? Nasty?"

Her face turned dark. "You're not helping."

"Look," he combed a hand through his white locks as he thought of how better to phrase himself, "you and your sister aren't exactly in the peachiest of relationships. If you want to approach her, you need to do it with more … sugar."

"Sugar?" she repeated, looking at him as if he was going around the bend.

"Yep," Jack confirmed. "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. It would also probably cause type two diabetes -" he mused as an afterthought "-but you get the gist."

The girl took to his words with a dubious expression, so intense that he could almost hear the cogs in her head turning.

"Hey," he said in a kind voice, a rare side of himself that he hardly showed. Well, he used to show it a lot more when it was worth it, but that time had passed. "Love precedes transformation. People don't care about how much you know until you know how much you care."

"That sounds like some kind of mantra for a service industry," she said, a small smile creeping onto her lips unintentionally. In a matter of fact, Jack's almost certain that this was the first time she really smiled at him – not a mocking or polite smile, but a genuine smile.

"It is!" He beamed back. "It was on this poster at the hospital in the children's ward." The smile on his lips fell away, and with it all the cheer he had wilted away.

"What were you doing at the children's ward?" Elsa asked, sounding curious.

Fortunately, he didn't need to answer, because a third voice piped in, "It's really great that you guys are having some really deep conversation, but do you mind?"

Both of their necks were twisted around to find that on a couch behind them, a peeved blonde junior was peeling off his earphones. On his lap sat a history book, which had been unflipped for the last ten minutes and an empty notepad.

"This is the library," the younger student told them, not looking at all pleased. "People are trying to study here and your talking is very distracting."

"Yoohoo!" Another higher-pitched voice called from the librarian's desk. By the foreign accent, Jack was pretty certain it was Mr. Oaken on duty today. "Quie' down v'ere pur-leeze!"

"That's precisely what I've been telling these guys," the junior called back.

"V'hat?"

"That's precisely what I've been telling these guys!" he raised his voice, cupping a hand around his mouth to make it louder.

"V'HAT?"

"HE SAID 'THAT'S PRECISELY WHAT I'VE BEEN TELLING THESE GUYS'!" Jack shouted this time. "THAT'S IN REFERENCE TO US!" That got a dark look from Elsa. "UM, I MEAN ME! JUST ME!"

"HEY, SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE!" Another voice from behind the geography shelf. "PEOPLE ARE STUDYING HERE!"

"WHY DON'T YOU SHUT UP?" The blonde junior who sat behind them on the couch seemed quite easily offended. "WE'RE NOT TALKING TO YOU!"

"OH, WELL, I CAN HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR, AND IT'S VERY DISTRACTING!"

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST SHUT YOUR EARS THEN!" The junior was so sucked into his fury that he had leapt him to his feet. "YOU'RE SO GOOD AT GIVING OUT ADVICE, SO TAKE SOME YOURSELF!"

As much as Jack enjoyed a good fight as much as the next schadenfreud-ish student, he noted that Elsa seemed quite alarmed by the display. Unwillingly imbued with a spirit of chivalry, he kicked himself up to his feet, and went up to the shouting boy and just said, "Hey, I think that-"

"HEY, QUIET DOWN THERE!" A new voice came from beyond the literature section, three shelves away.

"HE STARTED IT!" The one beyond the geography section yelled.

"HE STARTED IT!" The blonde junior to pointed Jack.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, now upset. "That's mean."

"What? You guys were the ones who started talking first," the blonde junior snapped. He was at least half-a-head taller than the white-haired senior, who at this point was having second thoughts about saying anything at all.

"Well, I-I-I-" Jack couldn't actually think of anything smart to say. So he said in triumphant tone, "I can't think of anything smart to say!"

The tall hunk of the junior deadpanned at him. "Really? That's the best you can do?"

Jack sighed, deflated. "I can't think of a decent comeback under this much pressure."

"YOU KNOW THAT YOU GUYS ARE STILL IN MY HEARING PROXIMITY!" The person behind the geography session yelled.

"SHUT UP!" Both Jack and the other student shouted back.

"WHY ME SHUT UP? WHY DON'T YOU SHUT UP?"

"For your information,-" the piercing, quiet voice that interrupted the spat made both boys jump. Elsa had risen from her seat too, and now her cold gaze was directed to the one sitting in the geography section - who could not actually be seen through all the books, but it was presumable that she was addressing him -"it should be 'why I shut up?' rather than 'why me shut up?'. Presuming that you've left out the word 'should' in colloquial speech, and that the desired phrase to convey is 'why should I shut up?', then the removal of 'should' should result in the exclamation of the 'why I shut up?' But honestly, you should just leave the 'should' in. It's a lot clearer that way."

She then turned to the two other students and said with a perfectly straight face, "I'm sure we've quite enough off biting one another's heads, so let's all sit down and do our work like civilized people."

Feeling vaguely as he had been told that little green men from mars had invaded earth and have declared that the font Arial was now illegal, Jack slowly sank himself back to his seat, not quite sure of what had just happened. Silence permeated the library like a dust bomb in a desert. He glanced over his shoulder at the blonde junior student, who still looked like he wanted to murder him but was too lazy to do so anymore, replacing his earphones in his ears and picking up his books. Jack then turned back to his own books, but could not help sneaking a peek at the blonde girl.

A surge of euphoria suddenly ran through him as he realized that she had, in her usual, frosty manner, saved him from a potential fight from the larger meaner student (someone should make it illegal for juniors to be taller than seniors. Life was hard enough already, okay?). She saved him. She did something decent for him, and in a rather clever way too, if he might say so himself.

His face lit up.

"So," he shifted his chair closer to her, beaming like the cat that got the cream, "will you go to Prom with me?"

Elsa arched a brow at him. "Are you seriously still asking me that question?"

"Are you guys seriously still talking?" the blonde earphones guy behind them complained.

"REALLY? REALLY?" Violent book slamming from behind the geography section was heard along with a loud thud that suspiciously resembled the sound of study material behind thrown against the wall. "COULDN'T KEEP IT DOWN FOR A MINUTE, COULD YOU?" The gnashing of teeth was particularly prominent.

"GUYS, TONE IT DOWN!" The voice from the literature section came back.

"V'AT'S IT!" The high-pitched voice of Mr. Oaken echoed through the library.

In the end, the librarian threw them all out, closed the place and gave himself early off. All the students shuffled outside the doors in resentment, muttering curses and assorted obscene language, before finally lifting their feet up and moving off to find another place for them to pretend to study while banging their heads to the songs in their playlist. Our dearest hero did not quite participate in these activities, merely watching in silence as he watched the thin blonde girl walk away, books as always tucked under her arm. She did turn back once, presumably to straight out a crease in her skirt, but when she raised her head, her eyes were on him.

He smiled and waved at her.

She shook her head at him, but this time, she was smiling.

He watched her disappear around a corner, and he let out a happy sigh. If this was progress, he didn't what was.

"YOU! I should have known."

Jack whipped around and found himself face to face with his fuming roommate. Suddenly, the identity of the yeller from behind the geography shelf came to light. "Oh, Bunny. Hehe, did not expect to see you here."

The Australian cracked his knuckles. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Um, because,-" Jack's eyes zipped back and forth as he tried to make up an excuse, "-you'll have to put up with a worse roommate than me?"

Bunnymund considered this response, before finally answering, "Fair enough."

Jack let out a huff of relief. That was a close one.

"Still gon'na pummel you into the ground though."

And that's when our hero went tearing down the halls, fleeing desperately from the waving fists of his Australian roommate, while other students looked upon them, shook their heads in condescension and went back to playing Tertris on their phones.

All in all, it was fairly normal day.

Act 14: Where No One Actually Bought Anything from the Prom Booth

The afternoon sun was shining. The birds were singing. School was still on at full-steam.

Oh, and Prom ticket sales were on.

There was once upon time when people would stand in line for ages just to get buy their tickets, as if there was something magical about passing over their smelly twenty dollar bills in return for the flimsy paper that promised them a night of dreams, magic and other assorted false promises (batteries not included). Nowadays, the Prom committee tried to cut down on the administration work by putting in as much work as possible online and getting people to book their tickets in groups to avoid service-time a time and leg work.

That said, there were always those idiots who just couldn't make up their mind about whether or not they wanted to go to Prom and didn't want to reserve their tickets online. So they needed a special little booth for them to stare at for long periods of time, stroke their chins before walking forward to fork over their money, only to step back in hesitation, than stare at the booth board again, and the cycle repeated itself.

The task of manning this glorified Prom billboard came under the jurisdiction of one Toothiana 'Tooth' Kadni, who was humming to herself as she scrolled through an assortment of fanfiction on her laptop while sipping her peppermint tea. She was part of the main organizing committee, so technically she was supposed to be doing more important things like calling up suppliers and writing sponsorship letters, but she was rather tired of all this and deciding a little skiving couldn't hurt. Besides, all her potential customers, still hovering uncertainly at a respectable seven feet away from the counter, had not yet made up their minds.

"Tooth!"

The girl jumped at the sound of her nickname as she quickly switched her screen back to Excel sheet that she was supposed to be looking it, only to discover that the alarm had been unneeded. "Jack? Why, whatever's the matter?"

The boy was panting quite heavily. He flopped himself over the booth table, covering his face with one arm and almost knocking over the decorative board with his other. Tooth, being quite familiar with her friend's antic, knew that the problem probably not an urgent one, but just some mole-hill that Jack had blown into a mountain.

She poked a finger into his ribs. "Alright. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Everything." His voice was muffled in his arm. Then he raised his head. "Okay, kidding. Just that Bunnymund wants to kill me."

"Well, that's really not much of a surprise." Relieved that the problem was really as unremarkable as she had guessed, Tooth returned to her mindless browsing of her favorite ships and brooding on whether to pass or read the next title that came under her mouse.

"No, it's like really, really bad," the white-haired boy went on to explain, propping himself up on the table by his elbows. "He's been threatening to throw me into the trash for the last hour. That's only after he strangles me, drops me into a pot of boiling chocolate and disseminate my molecules."

"Has he done it yet?" Tooth asked in the very epitome of calm.

"Duh, no. Of course not. I'm too fast for him to catch," Jack boasted cockily.

Then an all too familiar voice boomed through the corridor. "FROST!"

"Uh-oh." Shoving himself forward, Jack dived under the table, scrambling behind the fabric covering the booth and hiding himself there. When Bunnymund burst through the doors, fury screaming out from how he clenched his fists and the creases on his forehead. Tooth's was the first familiar face he saw in the vicinity, so he rushed towards her. She could almost see fumes pouring out of his flaring nostrils.

He got straight to the point. "Have you seen Jack?"

Tooth took a moment to craft her answer. "I did see him just now."

"Where did he go?"

"He was running towards the central courtyard," she said with a smile. It was not entirely untrue. Jack might have been running towards the courtyard previously before he took a pit-stop at the Prom booth. "Prom tickets for you?"

Bunnymund only grunted in reply, dashing off in search for his foe and disappearing from her line of sight.

Tooth heard Jack's voice waft warily up to her. "Is he gone?"

"Yep." She held the cloth up for him as he cautiously crawled out from his hiding spot. "What did you do to irritate him this time?"

"The usual – exist." Jack pulled a face. "That guy takes things way too seriously, and it wasn't even on purpose." Readjusting his blue hoodie over his torso, he told her, "I really, really need some blackmail material."

Tooth raised a brow at him. "Why?"

"Because we live in the same dorm, so he's gon'na catch with me eventually. I need something to hang over his head." The boy rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. He then turned his gaze to Tooth. "Well?"

"Well, what?" she said in response, still slightly puzzled.

"Can't you help? You grew up with him. You have to know some of his secrets."

"Both of you are my friends, Jack," the girl answered, with a slight role of her eyes. "I shouldn't be helping you get back at him."

"I'm not getting back at him," he contradicted with snort. Then, a shout came from behind, making him whirl around to check if the Australian was back. A quick scanned confirmed otherwise, so he continued, "I'm just defending myself. That's it." He put his hands together, making a pleading expression. "C'mon, Tooth. Have pity." He made a pouting face that had her bursting out in laughter.

"Alright." She gave in, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "But you have to do something for me."

Puzzlement was written all his countenance. "Do what?"

She pulled him closer and whispered something into his ear.

His eyes widened and he drew back, brows alarmingly high. "You? Since when?"

"Since a long time," Tooth said, feeling a bit offended by his reaction. She folded her arms. "So, do we have a deal or not?"

"I'm not sure if this is worth it," the boy said, twiddling his thumbs as he pondered.

Tooth narrowed her eyes darkly at him. "Are you backing out on this?"

"Ah, no, no, okay, I'll do it." Jack nodded, though he did pull a sour face.

"So what kind of 'blackmail' material are you looking for?" The girl swerved a finger on her laptop.

Jack scrunched up his face in thought, when the perfect idea hit him. "What does the 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' stand for?"

Act 15: Where the Evil of Watercoolers became Evident

"Hey, Elvis."

Bunnymund involuntarily sucked in a breath, which was rather inconvenient, because he was at that point of time trying to drink from a water cooler. This resulted in water running up his nose, and he pulled away from the tap, choking and spluttering. The white-haired boy just leaned against the wall, watching in complete amusement.

"You," the Australian growled, wiping the water spilling out one nostril and coughing, "you, who told you?"

"From special, secret reliable sources," was all Jack replied, smugness on every inch of his expression. "And I will tell everyone in this school if you try to throw me in the trash, do onto me any form of bodily harm-" he began counting off his fingers "-insult my music choices, play that annoying GIF with me on it, play the song 'Don't Stop Believing', and take up my side of the room." He thought for a moment. "Okay, to be fair, I take up your side of the room more often than you do mine."

"See 'ere, mate,-" Bunnymund was about to jab the boy in his chest, but then remembered the 'bodily harm' condition, "-you've got no proof. No one will believe you."

"Oh, don't I?" Jack slyly produced his phone, flicking on the screen. He showed this to his roommate, who began spluttering once again, this time because he could not really find the words to answer. Bunnymund tried to snatch the phone, but Jack was too quick, switching the screen off and tucking it back in his pocket.

"So, do we have an agreement?" the shorter boy said with a cheeky grin – a grin that Bunnymund was longing to rip off his face, pound into the floor into tiny pieces, after which he would gather and place these pieces into a jar, which he would post to himself in the mailbox. Then he would take the jar and drop into thick, sticky honey and drop it into an ant hill. For the finale, he would douse the ant hill with gasoline and light it up – with a bazooka.

Of course, he couldn't do this without Jack telling everyone his horrible first name – a name bestowed onto him by his rock-n-roll crazed mother who though it was a good thing to name her son after a deceased legend who was probably more famous his hair than his music (of which Bunnymund was fan of neither). If this ever got out in the school, he would be hearing 'Heartbreak Hotel' and 'Hound Dog' everywhere he went.

With a sigh, Bunnymund told the smirking boy, "I hate you."

Jack grinned. "Glad that we've reached an accord." With a triumphant nod, he bade his roommate farewell, to which Bunnymund thought 'Good riddance'.

He decided to return to drinking from the cooler, when he heard the boy calling out, "Oh, Tooth asked if you want to go Prom with her."

Once again, the water ran down the wrong way and sent the Australian boy into another coughing fit. He stared up at Jack, who wasn't the slightest guilty about the suffering he had inflicted.

The boy just went on, "You've got her number, so … just text her back yourself." After an awkward silence, he tucked his hands in his pocket and said, "Okay, bye."

After the departure of the source of his detestation, Bunnymund considered bending down to drink from the cooler, but after the last two experience, he decided on taking two careful steps away from it, then running away.

It was entirely possible that the water cooler cackling evilly after he fled, but who knew really?

Act 16: Where Umbrellas are Clearly the In-Thing

Our hero was actually feeling pretty good about himself.

His roommate had been put in his place, his crush no longer hated him, and he had three sets of unfinished assignments that were all due today.

Wait, wait, scrap the last one.

His roommate had been put in his place and his crush no longer hated him. It was the start of a wonderful day.

Well, besides the sun shining and everything, but that's why he brought his umbrella. He noticed she didn't really like the sun, considering how she struggled so much to sit in the shade, so he figured she would appreciate his little token. Maybe he might get promoted from a 'no' to a 'maybe'. That would be nice.

Well, while he was strolling cheerfully down to the usual bench in the courtyard, he should have noticed how the leaves drooped in the wind, how the happy white clouds turned black and how a cold wind fell his way.

Actually, I'm kidding. All those were completely irrelevant to the story. Our hero would have survived quite well if he had not paid attention to these and paid attention instead to the knife pointing at his chest.

(Well, that escalated quickly, didn't it?)

"Hello, Jack."

Jack gazed down at the blade, then he slowly lifted his eyes up to it owner. He wasn't honestly that surprised actually. "Hello, Pitch."

The tall, pale senior student grinned, flashing his pointy, white teeth. If Jack was considered a bad boy, then Pitch was the badder boy (worse boy, whatever).

He wasn't the stereotypical high school jock that bullied smaller fry. He wasn't even a punkish emo who went around scaring people he didn't like. He was most definitely not the type who would skip school and go to strange places to consume inappropriate substances. He was actually smart - really, really smart, to the point that everyone said he was definitely was going to be valedictorian. Just, you know, the kind of valedictorian that went around carrying knives and pointing them at people. If he were a normal student, he would have probably been chained to the counselor's chair for a whole semester, but he wasn't. He was the type that people called the 'eccentric genius' – though Jack had often amended in his mind that 'eccentric' should have been replaced with 'psychotic'. He was brilliant in numerous things, from the arts to the science all the way to the sports (he was called 'The Silence Killer' in cricket games'). People didn't exactly know what to do with someone this talented yet this … unpredictable (that's just a nice way of saying 'morally uninhibited'). If people avoid the Snow Queen like a raging storm, they avoided Pitch like the plague. It was said that even Principal North stepped lightly around this guy. 'Nightmare King' was too appropriate a title for him.

"What do you want?" Jack scowled. There was no else at the courtyard this early in the morning, and any CCTV camera around the area would not be able to capture the palm-sized blade that Pitch had hidden well behind his sleeves.

The pale boy let out a slight cackle, lifting the knife off the other students's chest. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

Jack scowled even harder. "We've not friends. We've never been friends. Where do you get these ideas?"

"It's just a word. It's not going to kill you. Unlike this." Pitch meaningful tested the tip of his blade with his forefinger, though not hard enough to pierce through the flesh.

The white-haired boy considered his words. "Wait, so you're going to kill me?"

"Well, maybe. I haven't made up my mind yet," the other boy admitted, pocketing the knife with a careless shrug.

"Well, please, um, don't make up your mind." Jack nodded and flashed an overtly large smile. Hooking the umbrella around his arm, he stepped around his fellow, but way creepier, senior. "Bye."

"Hold on a moment there, Jack." A vice-like grip curled around his forearm, dragging him back abruptly. Pitch's glittering yellow-eyes – his own curious birth defect – seemed to burn right into the shorter boy's soul. "Rumor has it that you've been wooing a certain person of considerable significance to me."

"Person of considerable significance -" Jack repeated, completely baffled, before it hit him. "Oh, come on! Really? She broke up with you in eighth grade!" Then, he added snippishly, "And stop sounding like a textbook. It makes me feel like hitting you."

"It was a misunderstanding," Pitch answered smoothly, not even bothering to take in account Jack's threat. "She was mad. I was enraged. We said things we didn't mean, and I burned up her laptop."

"Oh, please!" The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows she broke up with you because you're creepy."

"I am not creepy.-"

"Yes, you are."

"-I'm terrifying, perhaps,-"

"Creepy."

"-paralyzing, horrifying, odd on occasion-"

"Creepy like a creeper."

"-bad-tempered, aggressive, arrogant-"

"Creepy like a Humulus lupulus. Times ten."

"-The point is-" Pitch grabbed Jack by the collar, glaring down at him, "-she's mine. So back off."

"You're hilarious." The boy nonchalantly unhooked the wiry hand gripping his hoodie. "Here's my piece - no. I've waited too long."

"Well, that's just sad for you, Jack - fated to be alone. Forever."

Jack wasn't sure if Pitch was reaching his pocket for his knife again, or for a breath-mint, or maybe he wasn't reaching for anything at all, but he wasn't going to take any chances. So, unhooking the umbrella from his arm, the white-haired boy raised it up like a baseball bat and swung it straight at the taller boy's head. The lithe, skinny figure of the to-be valedictorian crumpled onto the ground suddenly with an ungraceful thud. Grim satisfaction swelled in the assailant's chest.

Until he realized that just standing ten feet was Elsa, looking upon the scene with complete distaste.

"Oh, um,-" Jack lowered the umbrella, then waved at her "-hi?"

She continued to stare at him, then at the collapsed student.

Not able to quite think of anything intelligent to say, he asked with a bit too much cheer, "You, me, Prom?"

Elsa gave him a withering look.

He swallowed, peering warily at Pitch, who was still unconscious. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

I don't usually ship non-canonical ships (you would hear me emphasise this over and over in The Odds of Five), but huh, since I'm already doing a Jelsa, why not a Bunnymund/Tooth? (Extremely light, and not that important in the plot.) Any Pelsa (what a dumb ship name, but Eitch sounds strange too) is purely for plot (and it tickles me.)

I have no regrets about naming Bunnymund 'Elvis'. I've always wondered what the 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' stood for, and this seemed like the perfect answer. (We can't go on together, with suspicious miiindddsss *Suspicious Minds!*)

One of my readers were kind enough to point out to me that American High School usually don't have dorms, so I guess for this story, I'm going with a boarding school for high schoolers. Hope that makes sense. I apologize for other lapses in accuracy pertaining to the on-goings of Prom, High school and valedictorians.

Reviews would be appreciated.