Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The New Guy
“Okay, lads. I know it’s senior year and that you would rather be roasted by trolls than be stuck in your History 12 class…but, know that I expect you to, at the very least, do you work…which is relatively little in here….keep in mind that all missing assignments will go down as a zero in the grade book. Get too many, and you shall not pass!”
Fili winced as he felt a sharp prick at the base of his neck, interrupting a very pleasant daydream.
“What was that for?!” he hissed, whipping around to look at his brother.
“What was what for?” Kili whispered back, an unmistakable grin spreading under his stubble. As he said it, another piece of pencil lead whizzed by Fili’s head from the right. It took all his effort not to laugh as Kili watched his brother turn, dumbstruck, trying to find where the assailant came from.
“I’ll be assigning books now…mind you don’t completely destroy them.”
Bofur gave a knowing glance to Kili and snickered as he slipped the makeshift sling back into his pocket. Poor Fili never knew what hit him. Neither did Ori who, when called up to get his book, happened across the line of fire.
“I hope you like your seats as they are now yours permanently….”
Balin was lost in his own world as the bits of lead flew past him. He often tried to pay no heed to the boys’ silly antics. Unless, of course, if what they were doing would get them hurt. He and Thorin had often been the only things between the boys and expulsion; for which they were (most of the time) grateful.
“And no eating in this class!”
Bombur froze mid-bite as Mr. Gandalf glared at the crumbs falling down the chubby boy’s red, scraggly mutton chops. Bombur grinned sheepishly, granola in his teeth, as he stuffed the half-eaten bar back into his pocket. He would have received a harsher scolding had it not been for a sharp knock on the door. Before anyone could say a word, and before Bofur could load his sling, a little head of sandy blonde curls crept into the room.
“Excuse me…um…I’m new here and uh, is…is this History 12?” he stammered in is proper, little voice.
“Do you mean to say that this is a History 12 class? Or that this class is History?”
“Um….”
“Or perhaps that to you this class is history?”
“Um…all of them at once I suppose.” He muttered, face turning red.
“Well, well….” Mr. Gandalf hummed to himself, flipping through the papers in his hand, “Ah, yes! Mister Bilbo Baggins I presume?”
“Yes, sir,”
“Right. Well, here is your book; and you may take that empty seat over there.”
Bilbo nodded as he hurried to the last empty desk in the room, the one smack dab in the center. All eyes now turned toward little Bilbo.
This is, of course, usual when a class is presented with fresh meat. However, that is not all that gave Bilbo his peers’ attention. Bilbo Baggins had, what most would call, a strange sense of fashion. He sported an odd array of colors and fabrics: yellow corduroy pants, a white dress shirt, and the brightest leaf-green sweater vest anyone had ever seen. Leather sandals just barely covered his large feet (which were a tad hairy) and his glasses’ frames were thick enough to deflect a bullet. In his arms were various folders (all neatly color coded) and in his hand was a thermal mug (judging by the smell, filled with hot tea).
If his clothes weren’t enough to warrant stares, then his still-burning red face was.
Bilbo liked history as much as the next guy (which is to say, not at all) so when Mr. Gandalf began his lecture on prehistoric man, he found noting better to do than observe the goings on about him.
It’s not like his professor would notice anyway seeing as the large mass that was Bombur completely shielded Bilbo from view. Bilbo would have been happy about this arrangement if Bombur’s long, red ponytail didn’t spill all over his desk (along with various crumbs) and stick to his sleeves.
So, Bilbo leaned back and tried to focus on something a little more pleasant. For example, to his right sat Ori, who was busy drawing away in his sketchbook. To his left was Gloin, snoring softly as he drooled all over his desk. Bilbo swore he could smell beer on him. However interesting the sights and smells around him, what Bilbo really found interesting was who sat behind him.
Every now and then he heard a giggle then silence, followed by a whole mass of giggles…and then silence. Bilbo learned the hard way that if he turned to look back, he would only earn more stifled laughs. So, however difficult it was, he forced himself to listen instead of look. It wasn’t until class was half-over that he had the slightest idea of what they were saying.
“He’s kinda cute….”
“Shhh!”
“What?!”
“I wonder if he’s single….”
“Shut up!”
“Guys…just chill.”
Bilbo’s face darkened a shade and his ears started burning. They were talking about him.
Kam, Luna, Cheyenne, Ellie, Jo, Bree, and Jennifer took up their own little block of desks in the back corner of Mr. Gandalf’s room. At the corner of that corner was Kam, which placed her right behind Bilbo.
Ever since he had walked through the door, Kam’s heart had been racing under her graphic tee. She wasn’t sure if it was the fuzzy vest or the big glasses, but something about Bilbo got her attention and held it until a raspy voice crackled through the P.A.
“Pardon us for the interruption. Would Mr. Gandalf please come to the front office? Thank you.”
The class looked expectantly at their teacher, some with mischievous grins on their faces.
Mr. Gandalf frowned, gently placing his book down.
“I shall not be too long….” He grumbled; and with the creaking of some old joints he was gone, door locked behind him.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch. In the blink of an eye all heads turned toward Bilbo. There were a few tense, silent moments; and then…
“Aha!” with a flick of the wrist Gloin had snatched Bilbo’s green, red, and blue folders and tossed them to Bofur. Bofur tossed them to Dwalin; Dwalin tossed them to Nori, and so on and so forth until the folders flew like Frisbees all around the room.
Try as he could, Bilbo was too short to catch them. So finally he stood and cried out,
“Please, stop it! You’ll bend them!”
Bofur snickered as the others laughed,
“You hear that, lads? He says we’ll bend the folders!”
And to Bilbo’s horror, they began to sing.
Bend the folders and break the pens
Throw the paper across the glens
Take the books and make them plates
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!
Of course, the boys were smart enough to know not to leave proof of their antics. So, before Bilbo knew it, the folders ended up neatly stacked on his desk just as Mr. Gandalf opened the door.
“Behaving in here, are we?” he mused, a grin playing under his grey beard. Mr. Gandalf knew his students better than to expect ‘good’ behavior.
“Of course Mr. Gandalf, sir. We were just pickin’ up Mr. Baggins’ things for ‘em here.” Nori said with all the charm of a bad snake oil salesman. But that didn’t work on Mr. Gandalf.
“Good! Good! Then you can be sure to remind him to do questions one through twenty-one on page fifteen for tonight’s assignment,” he smiled while looking down at Bilbo, “And, my dear Nori, if I recall your History 11 grade, you may want his help with yours,”
The class laughed as Nori sat back down sheepishly; but, just as he did, the old, courtyard bell rang across the campus.
“Off you go, off you go!” he cried as everyone scrambled out of their chairs, “And don’t forget the homework!”
After briefly drowning in a sea of unfamiliar faces and various body odors, Bilbo had finally managed to slip through the crowds of the hallway. Being away from his cozy public school back in the hills made him uneasy, and everywhere he looked he was reminded that he was no longer in Shireville. The people here were taller, stronger, and overall hairier than his former classmates. Back at his old school, Bilbo was well respected and (dare I say) popular. However, after the incident, Bilbo had no choice but to leave his pals behind and move to new territory. Just remembering the entire situation made Bilbo shudder. Not only that, but ever since he had stepped out of Mr. Gandalf’s room he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched….
Sure enough, close behind him was none other than a certain, bearded history teacher (well….the only history teacher), but Bilbo didn’t know that; all he knew now was that he was hungry and hopelessly lost. Even a creepy feeling couldn’t distract his stomach.
Out of nowhere, he whipped around to look behind him. Nothing. He could’ve sworn he heard something…or someone. But no, he was now all alone in some remote hallway. Bilbo muttered quietly to himself as he rummaged through his leather messenger bag.
“Where is that bloody map they gave me?” his futile search, however, was interrupted by a sound that made his heart skip a beat: laughter, but not just any laughter…with a surprising burst of speed, he ducked into a nearby washroom, just barely out of sight when the girls rounded the corner,
“Did you see his vest? Totes adorbes,”
“Would you just shut up about him already?”
“Why should I?”
“For crying out loud, Kam. This is the most you’ve talked in months.”
Now out of their sight, Bilbo could examine the group of girls more closely and without receiving a horde of giggles. In the front of the group was a girl who he assumed was “Kam”. She was wearing a tight, black t-shirt with a strange blue box on it…along with dark blue skinny jeans, red canvas shoes, and square glasses. Her hair was straight and blonde, cut just at her shoulders. Thin bangs just barely touched her soft, blue eyes. She was not to tall not, too short; not too fat, not too skinny. Bilbo couldn’t help but notice how pretty her smile was, or how her hair just barely caught the light.
He shook his head. He didn’t have much time to dwell on just one of them. For all he knew, this might be the only time to observe without fear of turning red in front of them…
Now then, the girl next to her was a little taller, and much more firmly built. His eyes widened at the muscles on the arms of the girl they called “Jo”. He had no doubt that she could pick him up and throw him if she wanted to. If that wasn’t reason enough to be scared, then her tattoos and overall intimidating face was. She wore old combat boots, green cargo pants, and a flannel shirt. Short, red hair framed her face, turning purple at the tips. Her red plum lips moved slowly as she gave Kam a skeptical look,
“Seriously, since when did you care about men?”
“Ever since he showed up, apparently,” a little voice piped in.
It had come from a girl who had now bounced up to the front with Kam and Jo. The first thing Bilbo noticed was that her hands were filthy. Random splotches of what he sincerely hoped was paint went all up her arms. Apparently she didn’t care about this, seeing as the sleeves of her green hoodie were rolled up to her elbows. In her arms must have been at least three different sized sketchbooks, some with various pencils sticking out of them. Her long, shiny brown hair held a few pencils tucked here and there also. Skinny jeans and a tight tank top really showed off how incredibly thin she was. She was short too, only reaching Jo’s shoulder. Her face was round and youthful, making Bilbo think she couldn’t be any older than 15, but her soft curves and the way she carried herself told him otherwise.
“Oh, shut up, Luna,” Kam muttered, playfully punching her in the arm. Luna giggled and ran back to the end of the group.
“You hear that, Ellie? She’s sooo embarrassed,” she said to another girl about her size. This girl, however, seemed much more conservative (and mature). Her light brown hair hung in a low ponytail that reached halfway down her back, swinging around whenever she walked. Her simple, black pants were tucked into suede boots and her shirt was tucked into her pants. A grey, striped shrug flowed behind her like water, covering her slender shoulders where her purple tank would have otherwise exposed them. Her skin was fair and her eyes fairer. In her arms was a copy of War and Peace along with a dozen different notebooks. She grinned at Luna,
“Well, why shouldn’t she be? I mean it’s not like this is the first guy she’s ever liked….” She burst into giggles along with Luna. Another girl walked beside them, rolling her eyes.
“Leave her alone, guys,”
The girl was about the same size as Jo, and just as scary. A hood was pulled up to cover her short hair, Bilbo couldn’t tell its color in the shadows. In fact, he couldn’t tell very much at all about this girl. She had on some red basketball shorts and big sneakers that squeaked down the hallway. She only carried a small notebook.
“Aww, but Cheyenne! You’ve got to admit its exciting to finally see Kam like someone other than a fictional character for once,” Cheyenne rolled her eyes as the girl began to go on about this statement, making some reference again and again to this guy called “the doctor”, whoever he was….
This girl, who seemed to talk more than all of them combined, was the most colorful of the group. Her shirt screamed a bright coral pink and her headband, covered in little jewels. A constant smile illuminated her face as she talked away, making her dark blonde waves bounce as she walked with her friends.
“Shhhhh…” another girl came up behind the sparkly one, “Just let it be, Bree…let it Bree.”
This one had a completely different attitude about her. Her fringed poncho and pastel capris came straight out of the 60’s along with a strange, smoky smell….Her hair was bright blonde and hung around her waist. She was very calm and serene. She was also not wearing any shoes. She skipped up to Kam, who was still bickering with Jo about her obsession with this so-called doctor. She put her arms around Kam and began to stroke her hair,
“Listen, Kam…take it from ol’ Jennifer right here….boys aren’t even worth it, man….”
“Bu-”
“Shhh….” Jennifer put her hand over Kam’s mouth, “Let’s just go get lunch now…I’m always hungry, man,”
“Yeah, let’s hurry it up. Besides, maybe heeee will be there,” Luna said with a wink from behind them. And with that they had rounded the next corner and were gone.
Bilbo let out a sigh of relief and then smiled. He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling about Kam…but whatever it was, it put butterflies in his stomach. And so he, stomach growling, quickly leapt from the washroom and followed the sound of laughter down the hall.
Crouching behind a large recycling bin, Mr. Gandalf smiled to himself.
“Yes….yes…very light on his feet, isn’t he?” and he stood up, brushed himself off, and added a memo to his tablet. He then took out his phone and dialed,
“Thorin? Yes, this is Mr. Gandalf. I think I found who you’re looking for.”