The next day at school, Elle stood outside Clark Middle School’s large, foreboding wrought-iron front doors. Elle took a big steadying breath and said, “Ok. But we REALLY can’t let anyone see you.”

  “No problem,” Moonie said distractedly, perched on her shoulder. His shiny black eyes worked over the scene as though he was studying the school in detail, making an intricate mental map.

  “You know....I don’t think you’re using that phrase correctly,” Elle said. “You see, ‘no problem,’ means ‘everything will be ok’. It doesn’t mean ‘this is going to turn into a HUGE problem.’” She was already getting uneasy. “Look, maybe we should go back home, rethink this and come back tomorrow when…” she said.

  “No. For the good of the universe, we must carry on!” Moonie said somberly.

  “Well, I suppose…” Elle said, hesitantly. “Since it’s for the Universe, I guess we better…” Elle mumbled. Although, in her mind she honestly couldn’t see how bringing a frisky alien and it’s spaceship to school was for the good of anything, let alone the universe. Moonie had been adamant about going to school, and she hadn’t been able to dissuade him, although she had certainly tried. She said one last prayer and stepped through the gates.

  Elle navigated the packed hallways and sauntered into her classroom a few minutes later and dropped stiffly into her seat, gingerly placing her backpack, currently mostly occupied by Moonie’s spaceship, under her desk. She shot a look around the classroom. Surely no one noticed the small lump in the front of her sweatshirt. She bit her lip and thought, OK, sure, my sweatshirt lump occasionally moves and chirps, but other than that, it looks like a completely normal sweatshirt lump.

  Despite her calm and slightly lumpy exterior, Elle was sweating bullets, certain that everyone was giving her funny looks. She just prayed that she would survive until lunch, when she could smuggle Moonie outside.

  To her total lack of surprise, after morning announcements, Mr. Johnson told everyone to pull out a pencil for a pop-quiz. Everyone groaned, including Elle, but this was not so much because of the test. Moonie had just accidentally zapped her in the stomach.

  Mr. Johnson wrote his questions on the board as usual. After the first few squeaks of chalk, Elle’s felt her eyelids dragging downward. It was like magic the way that worked---Mr. Johnson’s lectures hit Elle like a tranquillizer.

  Blinking furiously while trying to stay awake, Elle heard more squeaking, but it was not the chalk on the chalkboard. She listened closely, and realized it was a squeaky voice ringing in her head.

  “42.”

  “What?” Elle said, snapping awake, looking around the room.

  “The answer. It’s 42.” Moonie squeaked telepathically.

  “How do you know?” she whispered, ducking her head to her chest.

  “It’s obvious. That’s what the square root of 10 minus 58 is,” Moonie said. “And besides, I can hear what that man with the strange hair is thinking.”

  Elle glanced up at the board and after a few minutes of serious mental strain, she could see that Moonie was absolutely right.

  “Ok good job, but don’t tell me the next one. That’s cheating!” whispered Elle behind her hand as she pretended to itch her nose.

  A few more moments passed in relative silence. Mr. Johnson’s squeaky chalk and his own boring, nasal voice droned in the background.

  “25,” Moonie squeaked. “Easy.”

  “LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-I can’t hear you!” Elle whispered, surreptitiously plugging her ears.

  “Elle? Is there something the matter?” Mr. Johnson peered at Elle over his gigantic reading glasses, chalk poised in hand. The rest of the class stared at her open-mouthed.

  “Nope. Just trying to concentrate,” she blushed, nudging herself in the stomach.

  Mr. Johnson watched her struggling with her shirt for a moment then shook his head and briefly thought about retirement. Then he reluctantly turned back to the chalkboard. He started writing the third question on the board, “Now, this one is tricky…”

  “OK! BE QUIET, SMARTY PANTS!” Elle burst out.

  Mr. Johnson whipped around, reprimand on the tip of his tongue. But before he got the first scolding syllable out, Elle popped up and rushed to his desk. She turned in her test and very politely asked to be excused for “stomach problems.” Mr. Johnson excused her, deciding it was better not to ask.

  ------

  Elle hid in stall #3 until the bell rang, then tentatively made her way to gym class. Anyone who would have cared enough to watch her would have thought that she was indeed having a particularly bad stomach ache, judging by the amount of time she spent in the bathroom and the way she kept poking her stomach and swearing.

  Mr. Schmuck bounced into class wearing a skin-tight, tiger-striped warm-up suit. He blew a few preemptory blasts on his whistle: TWEEEEEE-ET!

  He sucked in some air and bellowed, “OK, pathetic people! We’re going to see which one of you is tough enough to win--The Rope Contest. The first one to the top in the shortest amount of time is the winner and gets to wear—The Medal of Honor!” he held up a medal to a chorus of “oooohhhs” from the class. “Who’s going first…?”

  “That medal is mine,” Kat bragged loudly to the gaggle of girls beside Elle. “I won it two years in a row. Everyone knows that I’m the best athlete in eighth grade.”

  Elle rolled her eyes theatrically. Juan, who was standing right beside her, saw her expression and started giggling.

  “Although, I bet the new kid is pretty good at climbing, too,” Kat sneered when she heard his laughter. “How else could he make it over the border fence? Time to build the wall, I say!"

  The class all gasped and looked from Kat to Juan. Mr. Schmuck, who was conveniently out of ear shot several feet away compulsively restacking gym mats, hadn’t heard Kat’s comment.

  Kat sneered at Juan’s red face, “Your family’s gonna get deported, and I for one will be glad to finally see some justice done.”

  Elle felt a burning sensation in her chest, and suspected that Moonie was accidentally zapping her again, but then she realized that she was burning with indignation and pure anger at Kat.

  “There won’t be any justice as long as people like YOU keep bullying everyone,” Elle said, suddenly. The class stared between her and a shocked-looking Kat.

  Thankfully, just then, Mr. Schmuck bounded over and goaded the class into forming a line. Kat, starring daggers at Elle, pushed people out of the way to be at the front of the line, bragging the whole time. One by one the students struggled their way to the top while Mr. Schmuck “encouraged” (yelled) from below.

  Finally, it was Elle’s turn. She tried to get out the event by using the ‘ol “stomach problem” excuse, but Mr. Schmuck just blew his whistle in her face and yelled something about the rope “Toughening Up You Softies.”

  She gripped the rope, drew a determined breath, already preparing herself for humiliation and rope burns, trying to block out the sound of Kat chanting, “ELLE-O-S-E-R,” as the anger rose again in her chest.

  As she emotionally prepared for the awkward moment of pitiful flailing, she felt movement and tried to stifle a yell when she felt Moonie scuttling along her arm under her sweatshirt. Then, she forgot everything, amazed to find her body getting lighter and lighter. Clearly it was a sign that she was about to pass out from sheer nervousness or maybe she was just having a heart attack. If she died, at least she wouldn’t have to finish the stupid contest! Oh, thank goodness, she thought. I'm dying... Best excuse ever!

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  She tightly gripped the rope and to her astonishment, she felt her feet leave the floor. She was starting to FLOAT!

  She quickly wrapped her legs around the rope to give the impression of climbing, but she was rising so quickly that she had to flail around a bit to make it look more realistic.

  She reached the top in 10 seconds, nearly cracking her head on the ceiling, and then, without warning, all the gravity returned at once and she barely had enough strength to grip the rope as her legs danged heavily beneath her.

  From down below, the other children clapped and cheered. She risked a look down and saw Mr. Schmuck nearly swallow his whistle in sheer shock. Juan cheered happily and Kat looked like she was about to rip someone’s head off.

  After she was awarded The Medal of Honor by a very stunned gym teacher, she wandered to the far side of the gym to have a private word with her sweatshirt lump. It had been mysteriously quiet for some time.

  But before she could begin the interrogation, she felt a nudge on her back—more of a shove, really. She turned and found herself surrounded by Kat and her groupies. Kat looked homicidal. “You are so dead,” she said, tossing “The…Pause for Effect (PFE)…Crushinator” into the air.

  “That’s funny—you’d think I wouldn’t be able to walk around so much if that were the case,” Elle said, swallowing hard. Her mouth was completely dry. Shut up! She told herself. Head down, don’t make eye-contact. Be invisible. These are the ways of the middle school survivalist. She could practically see the imprint of her face on the ball already.

  Luckily, Elle’s comment didn’t even register in Kat’s brain. Like the true bully she was, if Kat encountered something she couldn’t comprehend, like intelligence, she ignored it. “I don’t know how you did that thing with the rope, but you better kiss your medal goodbye, ‘cause it’s dodge ball next!” Kat smiled menacingly at her and then turned on her heel and walked away.

  “Well, tell my grandpa I love him,” Elle said to her sweatshirt as the rest of Kat’s entourage marched off. "I left my rock collection to him in my will."

  Silence from the sweatshirt.

  “Are you sleeping?” Elle demanded, poking her stomach.

  But Elle didn’t get an answer because at that moment, the whistle blew, and balls started flying. All the balls except for one, that is—“The (PFE) Crushinator” hadn’t yet entered the fray. Kat was massaging it lovingly, a murderous look in her eye.

  Elle quickly ducked and dodged her way to the opposite side of the gym, hiding behind her teammates when they weren’t looking, but it was no use. There was no shaking Kat. She shadowed Elle’s every move.

  Then it happened. The jock that Elle was hiding behind veered unexpectedly to the left and suddenly “The (PFE) Crushinator” appeared out of nowhere, cruising straight towards Elle’s head like a ballistic, heat-seeking missile. She knew her reaction time was too slow—it was too late to duck. There was a split second until impact, barely enough time to pray that there would be enough of her remains left for a proper burial.

  But just as the ball was a breath away, a warm rush of energy flashed through Elle’s body, coursing through her veins like hot, rich syrup, making her gasp and all her arm hairs stand on end—WHOOSH!—and then a bright purple light radiated from her skin, like the afterglow that stays etched in the night sky after a fireworks explosion. The ball immediately shot away from Elle like a bullet, across the room and straight into Kat’s bewildered face.

  BANG! Kat went down like a felled tree trunk. The gym rang with silence. From within a fog, Elle could distantly hear Mr. Schmuck’s whistle blow and saw a group of kids rush to the aid of their fallen comrade. The kids on her side clapped and cheered. Everyone turned to look at Elle.

  Elle felt her head, amazed to find that the ball hadn’t touched her: It had miraculously ricocheted towards Kat, leaving Elle without a scratch.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Jaya exclaimed to Elle a few minutes later as they headed back into the locker room. Mr. Schmuck had dismissed the class early as Kat was carted off to the nurse’s office on a gym mat make-shift stretcher, moaning whenever anyone asked her how she was feeling.

  “I would give anything for a picture of Kat’s face right before she went down!” Jaya said gleefully as she watched the stretcher disappear around the corner.

  Elle looked down at her sweatshirt lump for approval and then panicked as she realized that there was no lump where there should’ve been a lump. Moonie was missing!

  Elle broke into a cold sweat as she wracked her brains trying to think of where a small amphibious alien was most likely to go. He was probably totally dehydrated and looking for water. She sprinted to the nearest water faucet in the gym. Sure enough, there was a lump of something yellow and mushy, but it turned out to be something rather disgusting. Her mind raced as she tried to recall the location of every water source in the school. There were at least 5 drinking faucets in the school and then there were the sinks and toilets…but surely even Moonie wouldn’t be that desperate…would he?

  Elle broke into a jog as she headed toward the girl's bathroom at the end of the hallway and ran into someone walking around the corner.

  “Whoa! Hi Elle,” Juan said, grabbing the wall for support. “Great job at the rope competition today! You flew up that thing!” he said enthusiastically as Elle brushed by him.

  “No, I didn’t!” Elle said defensively. “What? That’s crazy. There was absolutely NO flying involved. At all.”

  Juan started to say something but Elle cut in, “It must have been an optical illusion,” she shifted uncomfortably. “It has to do with heat vapors. Yeah.”

  “What heat vapors? What are you talking about?” Juan asked.

  “The heat vapors rising off the gyms mats, obviously. Maybe you should get your eyes checked,” she added, changing tactics, poking him hard in the chest.

  “Ouch. Ok. I just meant you did a good job,” he said, looking bewildered, rubbing his sternum. “Is everything ok? You look sort of distracted. More than usual, anyway,” he said with genuine concern.

  “Um…actually, I’m sort of missing something,” Elle said, desperation edging in her voice, getting on her knees and peering under the hallway rug.

  “What is it? I’ll help you look for it,” he offered, enthusiastically, getting on his knees.

  “OK, wow, thanks. That’d be great!” Elle said straightening up with a smile. Juan grinned back. She stood up and jogged briskly down the hallway to the door, which she wrenched open, and peered down at the playground.

  “What are we looking for?” Juan said, trying to keep up.

  “….Um…I can’t tell you…” Elle said, hunching over and patting the bushes by the door.

  Juan looked at her for a beat and then said, “Ok, that shouldn’t make it too difficult to find. Should I just look around in general and report back if I see anything at all? Oohh, I know, maybe I could close my eyes and look for whatever it is, then if I find it, I won’t actually really know what it is…” he said with a grin.

  “Yeah, that might help…” Elle said sarcastically. She carefully lifted a leaf and peered under it. Juan was being irritatingly good-natured again.

  “Does it have anything to do with the nearly-extinct poisonous Brazilian spitting frog that you had in your shirt this morning?” he asked innocently as he got on his hands and knees, covered his eyes with one hand and began patting under a nearby bush with the other.

  Elle sat up, suddenly suspiciously. “How do you know about that? Have you been spying on me again?”

  “Nope. It was just hard to miss, actually. You were talking to it all morning,” he said.

  Great. So much for inconspicuous.

  “So where have you looked?” Juan asked, helpfully, noting Elle’s look of dejection. She stood up and dusted off her knees.

  “The water faucets, the hose outside…” Elle started ticking off locations on her fingers.

  “Maybe he went to the bathroom and got lost,” Juan suggested. “I hear they can be very hard to navigate,” he said, radiating innocence.

  “You’re hilarious.” Elle said briskly, without a hint of a smile. “Listen, can you go check the gym? Maybe Moonie hopped out there…I mean…whatever it is I’m looking for might have dropped out there. Not that his name is Moonie. Cause it’s not. Look--forget everything I just said, OK?”

  Juan scrunched up his forehead and looked completely confused, “Forget what?”

  “Forget what I said about…wait. Is that another joke?” Elle said, getting upset. She blushed, warmth rising from her neck. “Please just go look in the gym, OK?”

  “Sure, but it’s going to be hard to look around with my eyes closed,” he said, walking towards the gym with eyes closed and arms outstretched, occasionally bumping into the wall.

  Elle sighed with frustration and started back down the hallways. Why did Juan always have to be so good-natured?

  As she wandered past Mr. LaPlume’s classroom, she peered through the crack in the doorway. Mr. LaPlume was sitting at the desk, an intent look on his face. He was wearing a business suit today, with a fashionable black tie and diamond cufflinks that caught the light.

  She heard chirping a few doors down, and she sped towards the noise. She stopped at Ms. Schmidt's door, and to her instant relief and growing horror, saw Moonie perched on her desk.

  “Moonie!” Elle gasped and tripped into the room. As she rushed toward the little figure, she realized there was another figure in the room. Ms. Schmidt was standing near the window, watching her.

  “Is this your friend, Elle?” she asked with a hint of amusement.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry if he bothered you,” Elle said meekly, scooping up Moonie and shooting him a surreptitious scowl. “He has a tendency to get LOST,” she said, enunciating the word.

  She chuckled, “Yes, I guess so. But don’t worry, he’s not bothering me. I find him very amusing,” Ms. Schmidt said, looking from Moonie to Elle with a hint of a smile. “So his name is Moonie?”

  “Partly. Well, I better get back to gym,” Elle said, backing out of the room quickly. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Once clear of the classroom, Elle glared at Moonie and opened her mouth, ready to launch into a reprimand, but all she accomplished was generalized stuttering.

  “I…can’t…believe…” Before she could say anything coherent, a dark shadow suddenly loomed overhead, momentarily blocking the sun from the sky.

  “So I see that you ARE completely crazy. Talking to yourself, Elle?” Elle looked up and saw what appeared to be a giant bruise. And it had a mouth and spoke with a very regrettably familiar voice—Kat’s.

  “Wow--you recovered quickly,” Elle stammered. "How nice. He-he."

  “I hope you enjoy your little conversation with yourself. Because it’s going to be the last conversation you ever have,” Kat’s bruise eyed her with malice. Elle noticed that Kat was still carrying “The (PFE) Crushinator,” and she took a quick step backwards.

  Just then, Kat spotted Moonie, who was watching her with a sort of wide-eyed, fascinated amusement.

  “EWWW!” Kat screeched, clutching at “The (PFE) Crushinator” for support. “You’ve got a FROG in your shirt! GROSS!”

  “I’m poisonous,” said Moonie, helpfully.

  Luckily, Kat was too busy having hysterics to notice that Moonie had just spoken. She fled screeching, leaving Moonie and Elle alone.

  “Well, that was easy,” commented Elle. “If that’s all it takes to get rid of her, I should have brought a frog to school earlier,” she said. “That was amazing, by the way---how did you get me to levitate? And how did you get the ball to hit Kat instead of me?” She asked, excitedly, but a group of students suddenly rounded the corner, and Elle mumbled, “Never mind-talk to you later.”

  Elle tucked Moonie away safely into her sweatshirt and headed to Mr. Johnson’s homeroom period. As she entered, Mr. Johnson, seated at his desk by the door, peered up at Elle myopically.

  “Elle. A word, please,” he intoned through his humongous mustache.

  Elle panicked. He probably knew that she had cheated and had put down all of Moonie’s answers. Or maybe all the answers had been wrong, and she had flunked the quiz. Or maybe…

  “Elle--did you bring something to school?” Mr. Johnson asked slyly, mustache twitching.

  He knew!

  “Um…well…my lunch, of course…” Elle mumbled.

  “Empty out your pockets, please,” Mr. Johnson said sternly.

  It was useless to deny it. He knew that she had the little contraband. Elle reluctantly set Moonie onto his desk.

  Mr. Johnson’s chair shot back a foot. Elle looked down and realized, with horror, that Moonie was now a bright orange and green plaid color combo

  “It’s for science class. Part of my science fair project…” Elle explained.

  “Oh, I see. Well, please keep it in your desk ‘til then,” Mr. Johnson said.

  Elle gratefully scooped Moonie up and went back to her seat. She had to resist the urge to stick out her tongue at Kat as she passed on her way to her desk. Obviously, Kat had come running in to tell the teacher at the first opportunity, hoping to get Elle into trouble.

  Mr. Johnson made some of his “Critically Important Announcements,” as Elle sat down. “We have a special activity planned this afternoon to go along with our lesson on natural sciences,” he intoned. “The local human society has kindly sent a volunteer to talk to us about different domestic animal breeds. Let’s give him a round of applause.”

  Mr. Johnson opened the door, and a man walked in. Elle watched with mounting horror as she noted the disheveled man with his slacken face, and askew hair limp into the room. A familiarly repugnant smell hit Elle’s nostrils at the same time—it smelled like a slaughterhouse.

  Elle jumped out of her chair at the same time she heard a small voice squeaking her head yell, “RUN---GET OUT NOW!!!”