Title: A take on the musical "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying"

How to Succeed in Elementary School Without Really Trying

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Lindsey puts a big bowl of ice cream (three flavors) in front of Eliot, who looks up in surprise, then regards the bowl with distrust.

"What's this?"

"Ice cream," says Lindsey and seats himself across from his brother.

"Why?" Eliot asks suspiciously.

"Why is ice cream?" Lindsey asks, and leans back in his chair. "That's kind of a philosophical question, isn't it? Why is ice cream?"

Eliot growls. "Linny."

"Why is ice cream?"

"Linny! What do you want?" The ice cream melts a little from the sheer power of the frustrated seven-year-old's glare.

Lindsey sighs and folds his hands on the table, partly out of habit. "Eliot, I want to talk."

"About?"

"You."

There's a slight battle of wills in the form of a short staring contest before Eliot huffs and crosses his arms, ignoring the melting bowl of ice cream in front of him. "What about me?"

Lindsey lowers his eyes and prepares to admit that he was wrong. As much as he hates it, he was, and his brother is the one suffering the consequences of his decision.

"I was wrong," he says, and feels the stubborn, contrary brother part of his brain kick him for admitting that. "And I'm sorry."

Eliot doesn't let him off the hook easily. "About?"

Lindsey presses his lips together briefly before proceeding. "School. I was wrong to make you go against your will. It obviously isn't benefiting you in the least. I'm sorry for making things worse."

Eliot stares at him for a long time, arms crossed and his expression serious and verging on severe.

The ice cream melts.

Lindsey blinks.

Eliot smirks.

"Took ya long enough," he says, sitting forward and picking the spoon up to eat his ice cream. "Was it so hard, admitting that? That was kinda fun," he comments through a still-freezing mouthful.

Lindsey blinks again. He tilts his head and frowns. His lips form soundless words. "Did you just play me?" he asks, "Did you con me?"

"You said, pretend it's a con. So I did." Eliot grins at him with his ice cream-covered mouth.

"That's not what I meant," Lindsey scowls, "You- I- " He huffs. "I can't even look at you right now. Do you even know what I had to do to get you on the football team?"

Eliot shrugs and continues eating his runny ice cream.

Lindsey throws a napkin at him. "Wipe your mouth."

"I'm not done yet. I'll do it later when I'm done."

Lindsey growls. "I can't believe you conned me. I- Wait," he says, planting his hands flat on the table and narrowing his eyes, "So you don't hate school? You're not perfectly miserable? That was all a lie? Did you lie to me?"

Eliot picks up the napkin and smears the ice cream around his face. "No. I still hate school. But you know me. I adapt."

"You adapted?" Lindsey rubs his forehead tiredly. "Of course you did. You're Eliot." Eliot can adapt to torture in North Korean prisons; he can adapt to anything. Lindsey sighs. "Are you staying out of trouble, at least? The principal hasn't called me in, but that doesn't actually mean anything, does it?" he asks probingly, since yeah, he grew up with Eliot the first time around. The parents not being called in doesn't mean anything.

Eliot shrugs. "I'm doing fine. Actually workin' on somethin' right now," he says, leaning forward on his elbows, as if imparting an important secret.

Oh boy.

"See, there's this group of bullies, right?" Eliot starts.

No. No, no, no. Eliot plus bullies equals trouble.

Eliot must have read the dreading expression on Lindsey's face because he laughs. "Don't worry. I'm bein' careful. Gettin' the rest of the second-graders in on it, too."

Oh, no.

"It's fool-proof!" Eliot insists.

Lindsey shakes his head. "No. No. Abort mission. Right now."

"Nate helped me plan it," Eliot says, "It's fine!"

"Nate?" Lindsey's eyes narrow again. "Oh, so Nate knows, does he?"

Eliot snorts. "Yeah, he knows. So do Parker and Hardison. You 'n Sophie ain't the only liars on the team, ya know. We're all good at hiding stuff. Well. Now we are, at least."

"Parker and Hardison and- " Lindsey breaks off. "Great. So everyone knew? An' y'all were laughin' at us behind our backs?" he asks in an injured tone. What happened to team solidarity?

"They weren't laughin'," Eliot says at his huffy brother, rolling his eyes, "Parker an' Hardison don't really care if I go to school or not, and I made a deal with Nate."

Lindsey's ears perk up. "What? A deal? What kind of deal?"

"He helps me with the plan to get rid of the bullies and I go to school without makin' trouble," Eliot shrugs.

Obviously, 'getting rid of bullies' doesn't qualify as 'getting in trouble' to Nate. Which…okay, Lindsey can live with the murky grayness of that.

"Why didn't you tell me? Here I was, thinking how perfectly miserable you looked, all this time!"

"I wanted to let you an' Sophie stew in your own juices for a while," the second-grader replies, and deposits his now-empty ice cream bowl in the sink for Lindsey to wash.

"I'm gonna kill you."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sophie doesn't talk to Eliot for eight whole days. Actually, she stops talking to the entire team, Lindsey included. He feels a little miffed about that – he understands her not wanting to talk to her significant other because he was in on this whole thing, but Lindsey? Really? He'd been tricked and conned and lied to, too!

But whatever. It's not like he's the kind of guy to hold a grudge or anything. Not at all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Seriously. He isn't!

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AN: Eliot is a conman...kid? Conkid? Conboy? :P Anyway, he is a manipulative little boy. Shame on you for falling for poor ittle depressed Eliot. *kidding*