“AGAIN?”

“Surprised?” Nick asked, slipping into one of the many vacant seats.

“I wish I were.”

Ms. Elis, the intern, had replaced Mrs. Yuna as detention duty. Ms. Elis didn’t look like a teacher. She had short, pixie-cut brown hair with streaks bleached blond. She was younger than any teacher Nick knew, and she wore a lot more makeup. Nick liked her a lot more than Mrs. Yuna. She was a lot nicer and didn’t have tuna sandwich every day during detention duty.

Nick tossed a crumbled ball of blue paper to Ms. Elis.

“What is it this time?” Ms. Elis asked, studying the report.

“I dropped my pen,” Nick answered innocently.

“Hardly ‘dropped’,” Ms. Elis snorted, “Have you read your report?” She tossed the crumbled ball back to Nick.

Date:

Student: Marine N. Lucifay

Teacher: M. Hardagree

Period: 1

Notes: Disrupting class; Flinging pens across the room; Disrespecting the teacher and students; Double detention

Parent Signature:

Nick smoothed the blue paper out.

“I see what you mean,” Nick said, “She didn’t even write the date.”

Ms. Elis rolled her eyes.

“What does M stand for?” Nick asked suddenly, “I always assumed it was Mrs.”

“Melina, I think,” Ms. Elis replied halfheartedly, “Melina Hardagree.”

The two lapsed into silence.

Nick didn’t think Mrs. Hardagree looked like a Melina. She looked like a Tyrannosaurus on a Monday. Her breath was proof she dined on dead carcasses every day. But Mrs. Hardagree certainly was a Hardagree. It was always hard to make her agree to anything.

The mustard-yellow walls of the detention room had now become beige. To hide crack in the paint, multiple inspirational posters had been put up, telling you to “Keep Quiet” or “Don’t Draw on the Desks”. Nick noticed this not because she was particularly interested, but because her eyes had to look somewhere when everything was silent.

Nick didn’t mind the silence, or detention for that matter. Detention was a good time to think.

Nick thought about a lot of things. Which, she supposed, was the purpose of humankind. People were made to be giant thinking machines, though not, perhaps, a very efficient ones. Perhaps the dinosaurs were very good thinking machines too. Nick wondered how far away an alien would have to be to watch the destruction of the dinosaurs at this very moment. The thought that you can watch things back in time, as long as you were far enough, was still perplexing to Nick, but very amusing to think of.

Oh, well. Another one of Nick’s wandering trains of thought. What really needed thought was Nick’s next school. She didn’t like how she turned out here. She wasn’t popular and not enough people seemed to know here funny side. Nick was just another kid getting jostled by others.

Nick had saved the best school for next year—eighth grade. It was important to have a good school in eighth grade. She wouldn’t let the trouble go to waste.

Where had she gone wrong this year? She didn’t join enough clubs—that was one thing. She didn’t meet enough people. She’d have to improve on that. And she didn’t make an impression on the first day of school. How, she couldn’t imagine, but Nick could think something up.

“What are you thinking about?” Ms. Elis asked.

“I was wondering what your full name was.”

“It’s Rein Andrelina Elis,” she replied, “But such a boring topic hardly prompts twenty minutes of consideration.”

“I was also thinking about my next school.”

“Another school? What’s wrong here?”

“Nothing,” Nick admitted, “But I like moving on.”

“You’re going to have to settle sometime. You can’t run forever.”

Nick didn’t answer.

“Well, detention’s over,” Ms. Elis said, standing up.

“My mom can’t sign—”

“I know. Keep the detention slip. I don’t want you to hand it back with a forged signature. Not that I believe you ever will—” Ms. Elis squinted suspiciously at Nick.

Nick stood up. “Or have.”

Ms. Elis laughed. “Or have. Enjoy your lunch. And you can pass on detention tomorrow.” Ms. Elis tried to shield her obvious eagerness of spending lunch break out of detention.

“Thanks,” Nick said, leaving the classroom, “But don’t expect me not to come.”

“WAKE UP.”

“C’mon, wake up.”

Exflibberaguil banged on a little box.

The box made a little whirring sound.

“Good—” it stopped.

“Good—” it stopped again.

“Good—“

“Oh, for Zrillions’s sake.” Exflibberaguil sighed and banged the box again.

“Good morafevniteringnogon,” the box said in a high-pitched voice. It struggled trying to say morning, afternoon, and evening all at once, for, in space, there wasn’t really a standard time at all. Or, more precisely, a standard period of each day. No morning, afternoon, or evening. It made weather forecasting very difficult, but little things like that can be excused.

“Box!” Exflibberaguil barked, “Current stats of planet Driew!”

Box’s screech wheels ran back and forth across the polished marble floor, playing an odd tune. “I am so happy to be of assistance!”

“You’re not assisting very good yet!” Exflibberaguil yelled over the screeching.

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

“Just give me the stats!”

“One million or four million?”

“Four is cosmos,” Exflibberaguil sighed, as it was obvious, “so four of course!”

“Please stand by,” The box said pleasantly, “while I play infuriating yet calming elevator music that goes on repeat for several years.”

“I swear—” Exflibberaguil lifted his fist once again.

“Currently,” the box whined, slightly offended, “it takes four years for four million bunnies to spring from a single breeding pair.”

Exflibberaguil breathed heavier. “Only four years?”

“That’s rrright! Jeopardy!”

“Box, how many pet bunnies are there in the world?”

“Would you count rabbits as well? And hares?”

“I say yes every single time! You’re supposed to have good memory or something. ”

“There are about fourteen million pet bunrabhaniesbitsres in the world,” the box said, glitching again as it tried to say bunnies, rabbits, and hares at the same time.

“Fourteen million? I have to go through fourteen million?”

“And in counting!”

“Box, shut up.”

Exflibberaguil paced around the room. “That news is so bad, I almost wish I could forget it.” His eyes lingered on a strange device in the corner.

“I almost wish I could forget it,” he repeated.