A/N: Cover fanart by mizugorooo!
So this came about as I was watching She's the Man (as I'm sure you guessed) which is seriously hysterical. My roommate mentioned something like, "what if Viola fell in love with Olivia instead?" AND BAM. Instant classic. Okay, here we go...

See, Anna? This is what happens when you rush into things without thinking.

Everyone is staring. This isn't what I thought it would be like. No, I thought the big reveal would be... funny. Like… Ta-da! Here I am! This is me! But this is not funny. This is the opposite of funny. This… this is hostile. And it's not just the glare that Kristoff is giving me, although that's pretty scary too. What makes it worse is that fact that she's there, right behind Kristoff. I can see her blue eyes glinting at me from under her bangs. That glare, the Death Glare that she usually reserves for the stupid guys in chem who try to purposely set things on fire is now trained on me.

This is bad. This is really bad. How did it get this bad?

The day I decided to put myself through twelve days of chaos wasn't even in itself a very good one. Homeroom sucked, math sucked, history sucked, lunch sucked. The only thing that didn't suck was the fact that my English teacher ended up pushing back our literary criticism essay on Macbeth (which I hadn't even started) to next week. Score one for Anna!

Even soccer practice was unusually sucky - Coach drilled me harder than anyone else and I could still hear the ringing of his whistle in my ear on my way out to the parking lot. To top it all off, I tripped on the tarmac before reaching my car and scraped up my knee pretty badly. So, bleeding and in an altogether dour mood, I drove home.

What was waiting for me at home was not much better. The minute I stepped in the front door, Mom began her usual assault on me, this time about my grades. It wasn't even that far into the semester but she had already climbed up on her high horse.

"Did you finish your Macbeth essay, honey?" She had been reading on the couch but immediately threw down her book when I entered. I always ended up regretting telling her about school.

I sighed in exasperation before answering. "No, Mom. It's not due for another week. And I have other things to do… like soccer… and hanging out with my friends..."

"You shouldn't procrastinate. Imagine all the free time you'd have if you got it done right now!"

"Or imagine all the skills I could acquire on the internet instead!" I said, matching her enthusiastic tone. I started to make a break for the safety of upstairs but she knew me well and stopped me on the first step.

"Your brother has never procrastinated."

For a moment I pondered continuing up the stairs and ignoring her but I couldn't ever let that stuff slide, especially when I know that she's trying to get on my nerves. I wheeled around and hung ostentatiously from the bottommost banister - I knew she hated that. She was convinced that I was a walking hurricane bent on destroying her perfect house.

"Yes, he has, Mom. You've just never noticed because gets straight A's."

"He has always had more drive than you, Anna. He got admitted into Milton-" the way she said made it sound like heaven on earth "-for his senior year."

I abandoned the banister and re-entered the living room so the arrows shooting from my eyes could more easily find their target.

"He doesn't even want to go."

She looked as if I had stabbed her. "Of course he does. Don't put down your brother because of jealousy."

"I am not jealous. You're just assuming we both want to go to Milton. You're putting words in our mouths. And grades don't mean a whole lot, Mother. After I graduate and get a job, no one is going to care that I got a C on my Macbeth essay in 11th grade."

Her eyes widened with dread. "I can proofread it before you turn it in. When is it due?"

I felt my temper and my voice rising. "Oh, god forbid I get a C!"

"Your brother has never gotten a C! Honey, I just want you to succeed."

"I do succeed! You just don't notice!"

And with that, I made a dramatic sweep out of the room and up the stairs, tripping on the top step but catching myself on the wall. Fuming, I threw my backpack furiously into the abyss that was my room and headed straight across the hall to Hans' domain. My brother always seemed to lighten me up when I was having bad days.

I found him throwing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase when I prodded open the door without knocking. I started immediately on the same track.

"I'm so over listening to Mom harp on about you being her favorite and me being the cockroach that lives under the oven that she cringes at when it makes an unwelcome appearance," I whined, hopping up onto his bed and bouncing a bit at the landing.

"I love you, sis, but I'm a bit busy. And you're not a cockroach."

"What about a dung beetle?"

He paused in army-rolling a band tee to peck me on the top of the head "You are a human. Hopelessly klutzy, sometimes annoying, sometimes ill-tempered, but still an altogether okay human."

"Thanks," I said brightly. He cuffed me on the head where he had just kissed me and turned away to grab cologne bottles from the top of his dresser. "How come you're packing already? I thought you didn't start Milton until Monday."

Milton was the most hoity-toity private boarding school in town. They had uniforms and everything. The acceptance rate into college was higher than any other secondary school in our state. Hans had such good grades that they decided to let him start mid-semester. In the letter, they said he was "exactly the kind of student Milton desired." Mom was thrilled but Hans disagreed. He had less motivation to do well in school than me but still was super smart. It made me so mad. If I tried hard enough I could totally get into Milton. I just don't care enough. The real kicker though is that it's like this grandiose family tradition; Mom's parents met there and my uncle ended up there too (but Mom herself never went, the hypocrite). And now Hans has been hand-picked to be the next "Milton Star"!

"See, here's the thing," said Hans, dropping to the floor to rummage under the bed. "The South Aisle has a gig in London over the next two weeks and you better believe that I'd miss the first day of school for it. This could be a really big deal."

The South Aisle was the punk rock band formed by my brother and his other three friends Freshman year of High School, much to Mom's dismay (she wanted him to be a doctor or a lawyer). I was the South Aisle's biggest fan - in 8th grade I hand-made shirts for myself and my friends and screamed through their whole first gig at an empty bar. Let's just say I was banned from any more rehearsals or shows because they said I was "too rambunctious" but I still nursed a soft spot for anything to do with The South Aisle.

"Ughhhhh, that sounds really fun, take me with you!" I said, watching Hans pack his guitar in its case delicately.

"No, Anna. Your job is to stay here and keep mom off of my trail."

I groaned in frustration and collapsed face-down on the bed. "Don't leave me alone with her, please!" My voice was muffled by the comforter but I didn't care. "She'll totally notice that you're gone."

I felt a mountain of clothes fall on top of me. "Just tell her I'm staying at dad's or something."

I now felt the need to yell whilst being drowned in boy clothes. "But you hate staying at dad's and she knows it!"

"Keep it down! Just tell her dad's is closer to Hilton."

"Milton!" I yelled louder out of spite.

"Whatever. It's a good alibi. You know dad wouldn't talk to her anyway."

I found a hole in the pile of clothes above me and surfaced. "Yeah, yeah. But seriously. What about school? They're expecting you bright and early on Monday morning."

"Well actually, I was hoping you could help me with that one."

I pushed myself up on my elbows and gave him a pained expression.

"Don't look at me like that," he laughed, throwing another shirt in my face. "C'mon, you do a really good Mom impression. Call Milton and tell them I have appendicitis or something and won't be there for a few weeks."

"Isn't it against the law to like, impersonate people and also to lie about an illness you don't have? Do you really want your little sister to go to jail on your account?"

"Anna, you're seventeen. You'd go to juvie."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Look, sis," Hans finally sighed, coming to squat next to where I sat on the bed. "I really, really need this. The South Aisle needs this. C'mon. Please?"

And then he gave me one of his signature, full-on pouts. It's one of those pouts that charms the pants off of teachers, girls, parents… enough for him to get away with almost anything. I'm the only one it didn't work on because I knew better. I stuck out my own lip stubbornly and crossed my arms.

"Please?" He added some Puss-In-Boots eyes to the equation. I didn't budge.

"Anna…" he crept closer. "Little sis…. please….?"

And suddenly he launched a tickle assault and with a shriek I fell right off the edge of the bed, landing flat on my back before I even had the chance to counterattack.

"Okay, okay!" I squealed between bursts of involuntary laughter.

"Do you promise you'll help me?" he said, still assaulting my sides with his fingertips.

"Yes! Yes!" I yelped, cringing away from those fingers and smacking my head on his desk chair. "You bully."

"Anna… you're bleeding all over my carpet." Hans stood. "And there's blood on my bed, too! What the hell?"

"Oh yeah," I said, sitting up on the floor. "I tripped after soccer and split open my knee. I guess I forgot about it."

Hans had already gone to the bathroom and come back bearing Band-Aids. "You're such a klutz."

I sat back on his bed, propping up my knee on the mountain of clothes. "You're supposed to be this genius but this is the best plan you came up with?"

"I'm not a genius. I'm a starving artist," he said proudly, peeling apart the Band-Aid.

"You know, if Mom finds out she's going to murder you. Or cry. Or both."

"She doesn't understand that I don't care about school. I just want to be a musician."

"So tell her! See, this is the difference between you and me, big bro. You stay quiet about what you want and I fight for it!"

He carefully placed the Band-Aid over my cut. "And that's why you get grounded every other week."

"Details, details."

"There ya go, crazy girl," he said, standing and tossing the wrapper in the trash. "So you will? You'll do it?"

"Yeah…" I said, sighing dramatically.

"Right on!" he said, excitedly leaning forward and grabbing my upper arms. He shook me with each word to emphasize his point. "You do understand that The South Aisles could be signed while we're there? This could be our big break! And it'll be all thanks to you, Feisty-Pants."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving him off of me. I really was excited for them, but there was still some unfinished business. "But one more thing… what about Ingrid?"

Hans' face fell instantly into guilt. "Yeah… about that…" I crossed my arms expectantly. "Well, we got into a fight and she's not talking to me… but I've been meaning to break up with her for a while now anyway. But I guess it'll just have to wait until I get back. I won't be able to use my phone so it should be okay."

"You're just gonna ignore her for two weeks, and dump her?" He didn't answer. "Well, Hans. You are officially a douchebag."

"Hey, watch it. When I'm famous I could withhold your comp tickets to my shows." I slugged him in the shoulder and he danced away, giggling like a fool.

He wasn't getting away that easy. "But really, what do you want me to do when Ingrid comes around?"

"Uh… avoid her?" he said, zipping up his bulging suitcase. "And hope that she doesn't come around."

"Excuse me?" I said in disbelief. "That is not a solution."

"You'll figure it out. I believe in you." And then suddenly, he was in a rush. "Now look, I gotta go. I'm already late. You're the best, sis. You won't regret it. See ya soon!"

And with a last peck on my head and the slam of his bedroom door, he was gone.

In the wake of his departure, I looked down on the mountain of clothes he had abandoned on his bed. It was a combination of polos and more band tees. The contrast fit the owner perfectly. What I saw (the band tees) versus what Mom saw (the polos). And hanging in pristine condition in his open closet was the Milton uniform. Freshly-pressed black slacks, a starched white button up, a navy blue jacket, and a blue and white striped tie. I threw a balled-up polo at it and it swung pitifully on its hanger. God, he would just whisk his guitar off to another country and leave me here to cover his ass. He's lucky I love him.

Dinner that night alone with Mom was an absolute treat, let me assure you. Between the endless complaining about me and the perpetuated praise of Hans, I had a blast. She kept talking about Milton and how excited she was for Hans to go. She lamented greatly on the fact she had a mandatory work meeting Monday morning and could not see to his moving in. I assured her that I would gladly skip school that day to help him myself. Unamused by my sass, she denied me a brownie in punishment.

After that half-hour of torture, I found myself back in my room, staring at my poster-laden ceiling. Directly above me was Mia Hamm in action. Right next to her was a print of a pretty badass painting of Joan of Arc wielding a sword and charging into battle. And right next to Joan was Julie d'Aubigny, this awesome cross-dressing, sword-fighting, opera-singing French woman that my history teacher once mentioned (see, I pay attention in class).

I was studying Madame d'Aubigny in her male attire when I thought of it. It was like the Immaculate Conception but instead of Mary's womb, it was my brain and instead of Jesus it was my idea. My awesome, crazy, hilarious idea.

In seconds I was up and tearing across my untidy room. I flung open the door and marched straight across the hall into Hans' room.

From downstairs I heard Mom call, "Must you tromp around like an elephant?"

I ignored her as I stopped in front of Hans' closet and pulled out my phone. I was almost exploding from how excited I was.

"Olaf?" I said when he finally picked up. I was staring at Hans' Milton uniform with new eyes. "I have a huge favor to ask of you."