Disclaimer:We, the Sisters Elladan and Elrohir, hereby admit to owning absolutely nothing, except Briar Crest High itself, and then just the building, not the people in it. Starbucks is not ours either. Dur.

A Year at Briar Crest High

Chapter 3: Dates, Disguises, and Dangerous Betting

OR

In Which Pippin gives Sage Advice

Sam sipped his soda slowly, watching Merry and Pippin bask in the admiration of various freshman girls. They were the current celebrities at Briar Crest High, due to the fact that no one could figure out how they had written, "KICK ME" on the butt of Glorfindel's gray Armani suit. Glorfindel, in fact, was the only one who didn't know they were the culprits.

It had been a week since the first day of school. Merry and Pippin pulled their first prank of the year upon the unassuming Professor Glorfindel on the first Friday of the school year; to quote Pippin, "Always pull the prank on a Friday. Then you can hide in your house over the weekend." Not that Pippin had ever had to hide in his house; on the rare occasion that one of his flawless plans failed, Merry always took the blame. It was part of the deal.

Sam threw his empty soda can into the nearest trash bin, walked past Frodo (who was lost in one of the angsty teen novels for which he had developed a penchant) and wandered over to where Merry and Pippin stood. From what he could hear—as Pippin explained to an enraptured Diamond—the prank had been simple. "All we did," he told her conspiratorially, "was write 'KICK ME'—backwards—in red chalk on Glorfindel's chair. Y'see, he never looks at his chair before he sits down; he's too busy lecturing the class. So, when he sat down on his chair, the chalk came off and stuck to his suit. When he stood up and turned around to write on the whiteboard, everyone saw it and cracked up. He had no idea what we were laughing at."

"Why, because he didn't expect anyone to do anything that stupid?" Sam looked around. As he had expected, Legolas and Gimli stood a few paces from the group. Legolas wore his usual smirk. The duo had backed off from picking on that sophomore boy after he had embarrassed them in the cafeteria, so now Legolas and Gimli seemed to be taking it all out on the freshmen.

"Look who's dying to be the center of attention." Merry retorted, unaffected by Legolas' lame insult. Everyone laughed, except for Legolas, Gimli, and Estella, who had not yet given up her issues with Merry's faithfulness.

Legolas' smirk had vanished, but he remained undeterred. "At least I—" but Pippin interjected swiftly, saying, "Oh, go insult someone who cares," before turning right back around to finish his conversation with Diamond.

"Yeah, just leave us alone!" Sam added. Merry nodded appreciatively. Legolas, on the other hand, spun to glare at Sam instead, retaliating as expected. "No one asked your opinion, fatty."

Though the insult was familiar, and relatively lame, it still stung. Trying not to show any sign of weakness, Sam turned and began to walk away, cheeks burning. He could hear Pippin's voice fading behind him: "When I said insult someone who cared, I didn't mean him."

"Wait." Sam turned; Rosie's hand was on his shoulder. "Don't listen to those guys. They're just—"

"Nah, s'okay, I don't really care…" he mumbled. It was a lie, and he knew it.

"Oh, right…" Rosie smiled faintly and headed back to where Merry was waiting impatiently for her to return.

Sam wished he had told Rosie the truth, even if it was just to have her hand on his shoulder for a moment longer.

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Arwen knew that science in Professor ­­­­­­­Saruman's class usually included a lot of risky procedures, things blowing up and unsafe handling of seriously toxic chemicals, but never before had the classroom witnessed anything as dangerously insane as what Eowyn was contemplating.

When Arwen entered the science class room, she found Eowyn already there, looking unusually pensive and staring at Angmar.

"He hasn't done anything."

Arwen laid her light purple messenger bag on the table, (she would never put it on the filthy floor), took out her notebook, planner and a pencil and set all of them neatly in front of her before replying to Eowyn.

"What?"

"Y'know, since I punched him. He hasn't done anything. No ill-conceived revenge attempts, nothing." She frowned. "I guess I just expected more from him."

Arwen couldn't hear what Professor ­­­­­­­­­­­­­Saruman was saying about reagents and unknowns with Eowyn rambling nonsense in her ear.

"What are you even talking about?" But she never got her reply, because at that moment Professor Saruman appeared beside their table. "Ms. Peredhil. Perhaps you didn't hear me over the incessant chatter of your friend, but I'd much appreciate if you'd reserve your attention for something less banal than the insipid conversations of teenage girls." Arwen stared, shocked into silence. Saruman turned to glower at the rest of the classroom. "This is Science, children. The single most important skill you will acquire in your thankfully limited time here at Briar Crest. Accordingly, I will not tolerate any nonsense in my classroom. I expect you all to give your work your complete and undivided attention." With that, he swept back up to the front of the room.

"What work? We don't even do anything in this class…" Eowyn muttered mutinously. Arwen, a bit miffed that Eowyn had caused her to be called out in front of the entire class, was focusing all her attention at the front of the room where Professor Saruman was lecturing. Eowyn sighed irritably, turning to give Angmar a dirty look to rival Professor Saruman's.

"It's so frustrating,"

Suddenly, the horrible truth dawned on Arwen, and she whipped around in her chair. "Are you psychotic?" The obvious answer was 'yes,' so she didn't wait for an response. "You actually want him to retaliate?"

Eowyn laughed, as if Arwen was the crazy one. "C'mon, everyone loves a good vendetta. The only verdict is vengeance and all that. Besides, if there's no game, I can't win."

"This isn't a game!" Arwen shrieked, a few decibels higher than would be safe for human ears. Eowyn was sure there was a dolphin somewhere who was very confused. Professor Saruman glared at Arwen, and she continued quietly. "You see him sitting there? Clicking that lighter like a regular pyro, playing 'Will It Burn' with anything within reach? You piss him off, and he'll be playing 'Will It Burn' with your face. He is cold as ice, and dead crazy on top of it." She looked pleading. "Eowyn, it's insanity. It's like poking a crocodile with a stick."

Eowyn contemplated this for a minute, then said:

"Crikey."

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Lunch was, as usual, a boisterous affair. Though the subject of the Prank was fast losing popularity as a discussion topic, it was still on most peoples' minds. At the least, it was still being debated at the table where Aragorn sat with Arwen, Faramir, and Eowyn.

"I know it's practically social suicide to compliment freshmen, especially around them," Aragorn said to Faramir, jabbing his thumb in Legolas and Gimli's general direction, "but you've got to give it to those guys for starting this year off on the right foot." Faramir nodded his approval, and Aragorn looked back over to where Arwen was chattering animatedly to Eowyn about the cheerleading tryouts. Eowyn pointed out right away that she thought cheerleading was the lamest "sport" in the entire world, but from then on kept her feminist opinions to herself, and even congratulated Arwen on the fact that she had assembled a great team for the year.

Aragorn had stopped listening to anything Faramir was saying about the Prank. He was surreptitiously stealing glances at Arwen, who was now trying to convince Eowyn that there was still time if she wanted to try out for the cheer squad. Her grey eyes had that glint in them that they got when Arwen had set her mind on something, and her hair had started to break free from the long ponytail she had tied it back in.

Aragorn shook his head to clear it, and made up his mind. Standing up he said, "I'll be right back," and walked over to the trashcan with his lunch tray, indicating silently that Faramir follow him. Faramir did so, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" he said, dumping the inedible lunchmeat into the trash.

"I was thinking about asking Arwen out."

"I think you'd have a good chance," said Faramir encouragingly, " She's not going out with anyone right now, and seems to like you too, and she--" But Aragorn was looking over Faramir's shoulder at Legolas, who had been watching them.

"What now?" said Aragorn, more than a little frustrated.

"Don't you think you're being a little optimistic?" drawled Legolas. Aragorn groaned. Both he and Faramir were thoroughly sick of Legolas' petty insults, and had hoped that he had quit bullying them for good after Faramir had yelled at Legolas. But, no such luck. The blonde drawled on, "She's totally out of your league, I mean, look at her." He pointed to the table where Arwen was laughing at something Eowyn had said. "She's an A-plus student, rich, popular, a cheerleader. Don't think for a moment you can pull off that kind of catch just because your father was some famous movie director."

"What, and you could?" Aragorn retaliated without thinking, and then mentally kicked himself. The last thing he wanted was to be make some ridiculous bet with Legolas, of all people. And over Arwen no less!

"Of course I could," Legolas replied smoothly, "And a little challenge would be fun. I bet you that I can take Arwen to the prom--no, Winter Formal, it's closer--and you can't. I take it you bet you can?"

"Deal." It was chauvinistic, totally high-school-cliché, and above all, utterly stupid, but Aragorn's inner machoness wouldn't let him back down. Instead, he took one last glance at Arwen, and then stuck out his hand and shook Legolas'.

Aragorn looked over at Faramir as they walked back to their table; Faramir was giving Aragorn a look that clearly stated something like "What the hell did you do that for?" Instead, Faramir said, "I didn't know your dad was famous. Who is he?"

"Arathorn Dunedain." Aragorn said sullenly. The bet still weighed heavily on his mind and now Faramir had to go and bring that up as well.

"Arathorn Dunedain?" Faramir looked awestruck. "I'm a huge fan of—" He stopped short. Aragorn knew what he was thinking: Arathorn Dunedain had died 16 years ago.

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Eomer walked into his house, thinking of only one thing: the amount of time until his uncle got home. Hurling his backpack into his bedroom with practiced ease, he walked into the next room and booted up the computer. According to the grandfather clock in the corner, he had a good 30 minutes to "waste his life" on internet role-playing sites.

Eomer wore his long blonde hair in a ponytail at the base of his neck, which his girlfriend Lothiriel told him looked rakish and handsome. Eowyn, on the other hand, told him it made him look like a girl.

The door slammed as Eowyn came charging into the house, out of breath. She flung her backpack to the floor and ran upstairs to her room. From where he was sitting, Eomer could see the front lawn where Eowyn's bike lay on its side, wheels still spinning.

"Eowyn!" he yelled upstairs. He could hear her running back down the steps and soon enough, she poked her head around the door frame of the office and said annoyed, "What!? I'm in a hurry, you know."

"Where're you going?"

"Why are you being so nosy?"

"Why are you changing the subject?"

Eowyn sighed. "If you must know, I'm going back to school."

"Scho--" Eomer narrowed his eyes. "You don't have detention again, do you?"

"'Course not." Eowyn said, and disappeared upstairs.

Eomer turned back to the computer to find that his Runescape character--who had been abandoned in the heat of battle--had died and lost all but three of his items.

Five minutes later, Eowyn came back down the stairs; Eomer stopped her before she reached the door.

"What are you doing?" Eomer said suspiciously.

Eowyn looked up. She was dressed in full soccer attire, cleats dangling limply in one hand. When she noticed that Eomer had spotted them, she made a lame attempt to hide them behind her back.

"I thought the school didn't have a team."

"Well," Eowyn said, realizing that she couldn't hide anything from her brother, "the Bandits are holding tryouts at a field near the school, so I thought school was a good alibi. Not good enough, apparently."

Eomer was about ready to give the matter up, but something wasn't right. Then he remembered. "Aren't the Bandits an all-boys team?"

Eowyn rolled her eyes. "'Course they are. Why d'you think I'm dressed like this?"

Eomer reassessed his sister's clothing choices. What little cleavage she had was effectively bound under a baggy white t-shirt, and her face--which had never been very feminine--sported a band-aid. Her hair was completely tucked under a black skull cap. All in all, she looked--well--sort-of like a boy. At a loss for anything better to say, Eomer asked "What's the band-aid for?"

"Oh that." Eowyn absentmindedly touched said band-aid and explained, "It's s'posed to draw attention away from the fact that, 1: I'm not a boy, and 2: I'm… me. Works, doesn't it?"

Eomer had to admit she was right. His gaze was definitely drawn less to her face and more to the brightly colored thing on it. Determined not to give up, he said "You can't expect to get away with this just because you have a band-aid on you face."

Eowyn looked crestfallen. She didn't need Eomer's approval, but he knew she liked having it. "It's not that bad, is it? I think I looked boyish enough."

She was never going to give up, Eomer realized. "If I knew you'd do this, I'd never have let you read those damn Tamora Pierce books." Eowyn just stood there, and Eomer finally said "Go on then, make a fool of yourself." He smiled, and her face lit up. She kissed him on the cheek, ran outside, righted her fallen bike, and pedaled--sock-footed--into the distance.

Eomer shook his head at her retreating form, and returned to his role-playing.

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"Oy! Pippin! Head's up!"

Pippin looked up just in time to see the soccer ball before it hit him smack in the forehead and sent him reeling sideways. He could see Merry walking towards him, grinning sheepishly.

"Whoops."

Pippin tried not to smile--Merry was wearing a shirt that said "I eat glue"--and attempted to look as angry as possible. "I came all the way to your stupid soccer tryouts-"

"Oh c'mon, you live two blocks away."

"--out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay me? With a soccer ball to the head? I'm leaving…" Pippin turned on his heels and began to walk away. Merry just laughed.

"Then I guess you don't want to hear how my date went last Friday."

Pippin turned right back around. He still believed that he was solely responsible for setting Rosie and Merry up in the 7th grade, and he always liked to hear how their relationship was going, as though it were praise for his superior match-making skills. (Which in reality were quite pathetic).

"So, how'd it go?" Pippin asked eagerly.

Merry began walking back toward the bleachers, dribbling the soccer ball. "Oh, it went alright, I guess…"

"And you took her to the Space Needle?"

"No." Merry sighed. "I couldn't pay for it, so I bought her some cotton candy and some popcorn and we sat by the fountain and talked until it got dark."

"That sounds romantic."

Merry let out a frustrated sigh and kicked the soccer ball hard, sending it flying across the field. "There is no romance in buying her popcorn!"

"Sometimes it's the little things that mean the most."

Merry looked at him, appalled. "Who are you and what have you done with Pippin?" He asked exasperatedly, "And what does that even mean?"

Pippin shrugged. "I dunno, I think I heard it in a movie once."

Merry raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Okay, how 'bout this," said Pippin, shoving the soccer ball back into Merry's hands, "If you keep moping, you'll screw up and never make the team."

"Much better."

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"…Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon, wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man--"

"FARAMIR!"

Faramir groaned and rolled over. "What?!"

"I told you fifteen minutes ago that you had to be down here so I could drive you to your freaking soccer tryouts," Boromir yelled up the stairs, "So put down whatever book it is you're reading and get your ass down here!"

"I'm just finishing this chapter, okay?" Faramir replied. He was used to Boromir's temper. Anyway, Boromir was probably just mad because he couldn't come to tryouts and would just have to hope that he'd be let on the team.

"No, you aren't 'just finishing that chapter'! You know the shop's been closed ever since Mister "I-Won't-Work-For-A-High-School-Student" quit last week, so unless you want to sell your precious books so we can buy groceries, I suggest you hurry up so I'm not late for the interview with our only prospective employee!"

Faramir winced. Boromir had guilt-tripping perfected to an art. It must be hereditary, he thought morosely. Setting down his book, he hurried downstairs into his family's little coffee shop. Boromir was waiting by the door. Faramir gave him an apprehensive look, and he sighed. "I'm not gonna bite your head off or anything." Boromir ran his fingers through his hair, which was badly in need of a haircut. "I'm just a little stressed, that's all."

Faramir nodded, before asking "Where's Dad?"

"Upstairs watching TV, like usual. Anyway, we'd better get going."

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the field. A small group of people in cleats and jerseys were huddled in one corner, slowly getting soaked by the rain. Faramir jumped out of the car, and Boromir took off, back toward the coffee shop. Head bowed against the steadily-worsening rain, Faramir walked across the muddy field to where the ragged group waited.

Coach Beregond wasn't there when Faramir arrived, but it was common knowledge that Beregond was always late, even to his own tryouts. However, Faramir noted, judging by the small number of people on the field, it didn't look like there would have to be tryouts at all. Boromir might even get a spot on the team.

The potential team was mainly people who didn't go to Briar Crest, but there were a few who did. There was Aragorn, who walked over as soon as he saw Faramir, a couple freshmen, and a boy in a skull cap who Faramir recognized but couldn't remember where he had seen him at school. Faramir sighed. It did not look like a good season for the Bandits.

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A/N: Woo hoo, actually updating. We rock, and so do reviews.

NEXT: A date, a sleepover, and some romantic tension. Tune in next week!