This one insisted on being utter crap no matter what I wrote for it - this one was the best of the FIVE separate drafts I struggled with. Note that the word 'best' is used loosely.

Meanwhile, I don't know why I'm so amused by the idea of Zim attempting to play a piano. I must be very strange.


PLAY

Few things bothered Dib about middul skool as much as electives did. You couldn't really elect to get into anything you actually wanted to get into, as far as he could tell, and generally the only classes that were offered were choir, home economics, and band. He couldn't sing, and he didn't want to risk the dreaded parenting exercise, so he went with the last choice. Band was something anyone could take part in, even if it wasn't easy.

He'd half expected Zim to take part in home economics, and perhaps learn something about humans for a change, only to discover, unpleasantly enough on the very first day of skool, that the Irken had enrolled himself in the exact same class he had. Dib had to wonder if he'd even asked what the courses were about, and eventually came to the decision that Zim had only chosen band because he had chosen band. They didn't have any other classes together, and not being able to know at all times what his enemy was doing likely drove the Irken up the wall.

They'd both gotten so used to knowing what the other was up to back at their old skool; even Dib had to admit that being in a separate class from Zim was a little bit unnerving. Who knew what havoc he might cause unsupervised? So, despite that he didn't really like dealing with the Irken, in a way, Dib was glad he shared band with him. Among other things, he was greatly looking forward to mocking his poor performance.

For their first day, the teacher let them pick through the various instruments to choose which one they'd be stuck with for the rest of the year. Dib avoided the woodwinds and brass instruments, knowing that skools were always somewhat lax on anything that had to do with cleaning, and eventually settled on the cello. Lugging around the enormous thing, while seemingly very inconvenient, would be good for exercise (and if nothing else, he could always try crushing Zim with it).

Zim took far longer to decide, glaring around at the strange devices, and he jumped in surprise whenever a sour note echoed through the room, his peers already getting acquainted with their instruments. Dib had to force himself not to laugh and add in his own ear-grating attempts at music. He held the urge back mostly in deference for their elderly teacher, who, bored of waiting for his students, had taken a seat at the keyboard at the far corner of the room to begin a light sonata.

It wasn't long before the sound caught the Irken's attention, and he made a beeline towards the source, hovering over the teacher's shoulder and muttering something that Dib couldn't hear. The rest of the conversation escaped him as well, but whatever it had been about hadn't made Zim very happy. He'd glared at the keyboard, then at the teacher, and then inexplicably down at his own hands before growling a few choice words.

The music stopped at that point, the old man scooting over on the bench and indicating for his student to join him; Zim did, grudgingly, before the teacher flicked his fingers over the keys to produce a couple of chords. Dib chuckled to himself when the Irken was prompted to do the same, only to be unable to, thanks solely to the typical two fingers and thumb design of his race. The elderly man nodded to himself, sweeping his hands over the keys for one last bit of music to prove a point, before getting to his feet and heading to his office, leaving Zim seated on his own in front of the keyboard.

Contact-covered eyes narrowed in displeasure, the alien stared down at the instrument silently, not even noticing that his enemy was watching him and snickering all the while. Instead, he just trailed one finger across the keys, intently focused on the sounds it produced, before slowly, very slowly, he lifted both hands to pick out note after note until the melody was recognizable. It wasn't perfect, or exact, but it was more or less the very same song that the teacher had shown him.

When Zim finally stood up, turning off the keyboard with a disgruntled sound, and returned to glaring at the other instruments, Dib suddenly felt a little bit sorry for him. He wasn't exactly sure why; he'd never felt anything other than annoyance or animosity towards the Invader before, but he could venture a guess as to what brought it forward.

For the very first time since his arrival, Zim had expressed interest in something Earth had to offer, and for a reason other than wanting to destroy it.

It was almost something of a shame that the Irken couldn't have chosen the keyboard, simply because of his anatomy. Dib had to admit, he'd shown potential, and, most importantly, anything would have been better than the instrument Zim eventually came to choose. He would never forgive their teacher for suggesting it, and he didn't care that it 'suited Zim perfectly'. It did suit him, really, a little too perfectly in Dib's opinion, but the fact remained that it often gave him a splitting headache.

He eventually came to conclude that Zim should have never – ever – been allowed anywhere near a drum set.


If Zim was ever in a band, for whatever insane reason, he would HAVE to be the drummer. Either that, or he would demand to be the lead singer just so he could have the spotlight. XD;

Random note: From what I can gather, there's very rarely a piano player in school bands. However, from my own experience, there always seems to be a piano or keyboard in the band room for whatever reason. It's kind of weird. Or maybe it's just me. (insert shrug here)