A/N: It's Christmas in... September? Just roll with it. :] I don't own Ralph Hardimon or Vic Firth.

Snowflakes drifted gracefully toward the ground, leaving their dark puffy clouds behind. The sun had set hours ago, and the world seemed to be trapped in a large, beautiful snowglobe. The grass was just beginning to become dusty white, and Greg watched it all from his window. Tomorrow was the last day of school before winter break, and he had tests in six of his eight classes. He was pretty sure that he would fail geometry, Spanish, and biology. English, American history, and astronomy were going to be the easiest. Theater tech and band were his "free" periods. The books were piled high on his bed, and he had strewn worksheets everywhere. But at the moment, something much more serious than test worries was happening outside.

A strange car had pulled up across the street around seven, and no one had entered or exited it. It was now nine thirty. He had called Paul at eight. He mashed his nose against the window, his glasses digging into his face. In his hands, he clutched a pair of kiddie binochulars that belonged to his younger sister, Cate. The car was completely black inside. Paul had told him to stay put and check on it periodically. His phone vibrated suddenly. Greg jumped, banging his head on the window. He swore and opened up his phone.

"Is the car still there? - Paul"

"Yes"

He hit send. His eyes flashed to the window. Nothing had changed. Greg gulped loudly. He needed to do something... he just didn't know what. His phone vibrated again.

"I'll b there in 5"

Now Paul was coming. Greg knew he was on drumline for a reason. He loved to play. But he also knew that he had a duty. He stood up, opened his bedroom door, and slipped into the hall. Cate was asleep, and his parents were watching television in the family room. He carefully treaded down the stairs, through the foyer, and turned down the hallway that led to the garage. His parents noticed nothing as he opened the door and crept into his garage. He flicked on the light, and made his way to the snow shovels. No, he couldn't swing one fast enough. He turned and walked to the back. His golf bag sat innocently next to the lawnmower. He grinned and grabbed the nine iron. He snatched the salt container on his way to the back door, and silently snuck outside.

He hugged the house as he approached the front. His heart pounded in his chest. The car inched into his view. He froze. Something moved inside. Despite the cold, his hands were sweating as they gripped the club and the salt. He gently set the salt down and took a deep breath. Greg walked toward the car. Each step seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Just as he reached the driverside door, it swung open. The face of Northview's center leered up at him. Greg brandished the golf club. "Get out of here," he snarled. The other guy stared laughingly at him.

"I have every right to be here," he replied. Greg laughed menacingly.

"Maybe you should read the signs before you park," he snapped, and pointed. The other drummer followed his finger, and Greg grabbed the opportunity to snatch him by the shirt and yank him up out of the car. He was glad he was so tall. "Next time you want to babysit me, just call," he growled. The other kid looked shocked, but he quickly recovered.

"You are planning something," he hissed. "All of you. And we will stop you." He yanked himself out of Greg's grip. They stared each other down.

"The only thing I'm planning is to pass my tests tomorrow," Greg retorted after a few minutes of silence. The enemy grinned.

"I can arrange that... but only if you tell me what you're doing. If not... Maybe you won't be so pleased." Greg's anger boiled over.

"That's it! You have no idea what the Southview drumline is capable of!" he roared, and swung the golf club high into the air.

"GREG!"

Greg dropped the club, and the Northview kid darted into his car. Paul sprinted up to them, and grabbed the guy's arm as he tried to pull the door shut. "You need to leave," he barked, and the rival center started his car, yanked his arm free, closed the door, and tore off. Paul turned to Greg. "What were you thinking?" he yelled. Greg straigtened.

"They know we're planning something," he snapped. Paul blanched. "And he threatened to fail me on all my tests tomorrow."

"Greg, you're an idiot. But at least you know how to work a golf club," Paul muttered. "Get inside. I'll see you tomorrow." He walked to his car and drove off. Greg picked up the club, trudged across the street, grabbed the salt and dumped some on the driveway. As he walked back into the house, his parents caught him.

"Greg, what were you doing out there?"

"Salting the driveway. Didn't you see me go out?"

They shook their heads, and he greatfully went to bed, just realizing how chilly he felt.

Jen's Christmas party was due to start in twenty minutes. She nervously paced the kitchen, wondering if anyone would show up. The house twinkled with lights from the tree, and garland was strung everywhere possible. A huge plate of cookies rested on the table. The doorbell rang. Jen tore over. Bri, Shane, Allie, and Katie stood on her porch, grinning. "We heard there was a party," Bri giggled. They filed in together.

"Where are the drummers?" Shane asked, looking around.

"Oh, they're coming... hopefully," Jen muttered. Katie laughed.

"Why wouldn't they come? Food and girls are here!" she reasured them. The doorbell rang again, and this time Jen let in Mike and Aaron. To her surprise, Matt came to the door a few minutes later.

"I hope you don't mind, Jen. Bri asked if I wanted to come..." he explained in his deep voice.

"I figured," she grinned. "Come on in."

The drumline arrived right on time. Paul seemed a little upset that someone from Northview was there too, but he calmed down once he realized that Matt was not in band.

"Where's the eggnog?" Andrew roared. Dillon and Ryan began yelling as well. Jen rolled her eyes.

"No drinking at my party!" she yelled back, shrieking as Alex and Patrick nailed her with two reindeer pillows.

"Come on!" Ryan whined. "It'll give a whole new meaning to 'Merry Christmas!'"

"Go eat cookies," Jen grunted, whacking the boys with a large, overstuffed santa dog. At the mention of cookies, everyone stopped what they were doing and charged the kitchen. "That was easy," Jen mumbled, brushing fake dog hair off her shirt.

Everyone stayed late, laughing, eating, and playing the drumline version of "Never have I Ever," which turned out to be so perverted that several people asked to wash out their ears afterward. To finish the night off, a spectacular snowball fight occured throughout the neighborhood, leaving several lawns much greener than before.

"Bye Jen! Thanks!" people yelled before leaving. Jen waved. Paul shook her hand and gave her a card.

"Read it sometime. I think you'll like it," he grinned, and winked. Patrick also handed her a package, and he hugged her lightly before driving off.

"Have a great break, Jenny!" he called as he trotted down the street.

She ran upstairs after Bri and Shane reluctantly left and sat on her bed. She ripped open Paul's card.

Hey Jen! Merry Christmas. You're a real gamer. When you found us out, I knew you would be trouble. I'm glad to say that you are shaping up to be a real member of the drumline! That said, there is still something missing. So, for your Christmas gift, Patrick and I teamed up to get you something awesome. I'm sure you can guess his half after you're done with this card. I am giving you drum lessons, from January until June, twice a week. I know you'll benefit from them, even in playing the flute! Plus, you can really be an official drummer now. I'll see you in a few weeks! - Paul

Jen gaped at the card. She could barely believe it! Grinning wildly, she opened Patrick's package. Drumsticks! A note fell onto the bed.

Merry Christmas, Jen. These are your new sticks! They are Vic Firth Ralph Hardimon sticks, the snare line's favorite type. Of course, you probably have no clue what I just said. But these are good sticks, and they make a nice sound. I'll see you in January! Your friend Patrick

Jen spent the next five minutes shrieking while jumping up and down on her bed. She stopped after remembering that Mitch broke his arm when he fell off a bed while jumping on it a few years earlier. She then ran around the house for the rest of the night drumming on things.

"The new year will ROCK!"