The boys had to race down the hall before almost dying of a fit of laughter.

"Oh god, oh god…" Flynn couldn't continue. His words were overpowered by laughter.

Peter braced himself against a water fountain, trying to speak.

"I…told you…I'm a…master…" his laughter continued.

Flynn took a deep breath to temporarily hold back his giggles.

"You freaking scanned the headmistress's signature. Onto your 'formal' letter. I have a newfound respect for you, bro,"

"What? Why haven't you respected me earlier?"

"Shut up Peter," Flynn stood up, "besides, we would've been toast if it weren't for that girl who pointed us the way to the library-" Flynn was cut off.

Walking into a classroom on the other side of the hall was a girl with incredibly golden hair that seemed to flow like golden water behind her, reaching just above to her ankles. Though a little short and skinny, she was absolutely beautiful.

"Whoa, hippy alert," Peter said, staring at her hair.

Well, beautiful to Flynn.

Flynn put a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I think it is time that we part, dumbass. At the end of the day, meet me at the library,"

With those words, Flynn followed the girl into the classroom.

Before Flynn could see the inside of the classroom, he found that the classroom smelt like paint and clay. Flynn gingerly opened the door. The room was filled with busy students. There were papers spread across large white tables, were two or three kids were sitting. Paintings were hung everywhere, and drawing books were held in an old shelf.

Oh god no…

Art was not one of Flynn's best subjects. He considered leaving the classroom to find another girl before he could make a fool out of himself, but before he could even turn around; he felt a hand grab the collar of his shirt.

"Why the hell aren't you in uniform?" a female voice demanded. Suddenly the classroom was quiet.

Flynn turned around, and saw a pretty woman around eighteen years old with long brown pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked at him with one eyebrow up. Flynn smiled.

"Why the hell are you a teacher?" he asked smugly.

"You would rather me a stripper?" she retorted. The class laughed. After hearing Flynn's objections, she ripped the pass out of his hands. She studied it, and waved to her class to get back to whatever they were doing.

"Call me Mrs. Meg. Take a seat, and try to do something productive. I'd rather you not ask me for help, but that's my job. Mrs. Rapunzel here will help you," she pushed him towards her.

Flynn sat next to the girl with long hair. She looked at him and smiled. Flynn tried to keep his cool.

"Hi. I'm Rapunzel. What's your name?"

Flynn couldn't get his senses straight. Something about her huge pretty green eyes threw him off. He fought for words, and suddenly remembered the name on the 'forbidden file' that Peter threatened to 'accidently' print all over the orphanage unless Flynn did his chores for a year.

"Eugene Fitzherbert," he said too quickly.

"Oh! Fitzherbert! That must be European right?" she laughed at Flynn's blush, "I'm kidding. My last name is Wagner. I mean, the first name is German enough, but Wagner? Geez."

Flynn melted. This girl was too sweet. He smiled.

"Well," Rapunzel said, handing him a piece of paper, "what do you want to draw?"

The only thing Flynn could think of was her, her, her.

"Can I draw you?" Flynn asked, knowing very well that the only thing he could draw was a bird; not a real one or even a cartoony version, but those squiggles seen in most kindergartener's drawings.

"Um… okay."

She sat very still, looking him straight in the eye, giving a slight smile.

"Is this pose good?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah…" Flynn said nervously. God, what is wrong with me?

He picked up a pencil and began to draw.

Rapunzel began to assume that he was a very masterful artist, for he kept erasing over and over again. Finally, he grabbed a spare piece of paper and completely redid the drawing. After a few minutes, he turned away and shamefully handed Rapunzel the piece of paper. She curiously took it from him.

She didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. It was just a smiling stick figure with eyelashes and extremely long hair. She looked at Flynn with a mixture of confusion and laughter. He reddened.

"Well I hope I don't really look like this in real life," she grinned.

Flynn looked up and sheepishly smiled back.