One day the next week, Dad handed me a box of fake fingerprints. It was two weeks before Graffiti Day and Aja’s surprise birthday party. Each fake fingerprint was a strip of plastic with zigzags on it. You peel off the back,and it has sticky stuff. Stick it to your finger, and you have instant alien fingerprints.

Dad said, “Put these where kids will find them. Don’t let anyone see you do it, though.” He explained that if everyone wore fake fingerprints, someone would get caught.

“You want them to get caught wearing fake fingerprints?” I said.

“Yes. Mrs. Lynx will think that all the alien fingerprints are fake. Just some kids playing around,” he said.

Dad even had small cards that explained how to use the fake fingerprints.

I put some of the fake fingerprints and cards in the boy’s bathroom. Bree put them in the girl’s bathroom. We left some in the art room by the sink.

“Did anyone see you?” Bree asked.

“No one,” I said. “We’re too sneaky.”

Later in art class, I scribbled on my paper in frustration. What graffiti art could I do for the playground wall? Not a picture of the Bix sky with three suns.

I picked up a color and just started drawing. A minute later, I was looking at Olive Green Boy.

Mrs. Crux passed by and said, “Nice, mate. It looks like an Emu egg. Emus live in Australia, you know. They look like an ostrich. Their eggs are big and dark green.”

That was funny. Greenie Boy looks like an Emu egg. I said, “I”ll draw some more.”

“Good idea,” she said.

I drew and drew and drew green eggs, until I had a drawing full of eggs. Mrs. Crux liked it and said to color it.

Before I started with color, though, I took a short break. I got up to look at other student’s art. Some were using finger paints, and I saw a couple kids using fake fingerprints. Our plan was working. Most kids had the plastic strips only on their index fingers. But Aja wore one on each finger.

Grinning, I sat back down and used watercolor paints for my eggs. I was never going to use finger paints again.

When I finished, Mrs. Crux said, “It’s a good design. You can paint it on the playground fence on Graffiti Day.”

In between classes, I checked the Egg Cam. Lime Boy was still where we had left him.

Later in social studies class, the graffiti detective teams met. We tried to answer the questions about our graffiti poster:

Who likes diet drinks?

Who wears white socks?

Who likes traveling to Mexico?

What do peacock feathers mean?

Aja, who wanted more than anything to be a detective, had news. “I know who likes diet drinks. Mrs. Tarries and Mrs. McGreen.”

Mrs. McGreen taught health and nutrition, so that made sense.

But Freddy had other news. “Mr. Vega has on white socks today.”

“No,” I said. “He has on boots. You can’t see his socks.”

Freddy said, “Right before class started, he took off his boot and scratched his foot. Then he put the boot back on. I saw it myself. White socks.”

Roman said, “I know what language those words are written in. Spanish. It says, ‘Someday, I will go home again.’”

Earthling languages are strange. I thought that in Mexico, they would speak Mexican. Instead, in Mexico, they speak Spanish. Mr. Martinez grew up in Honduras, and they speak Spanish there, too. But there was a map of Mexico on the poster, not Honduras. Did Mr. Martinez ever live in Mexico?

“What about the oatmeal and peacock clues?” I asked.

But no one in our group had an answer.

I updated the list of teachers with what we knew.

Updated List of Teachers

Mrs. Lynx, principal – Former science teacher.

Mrs. Crux, art – From Australia. Knows about emus, not peacocks.

Mr. Vega, music – White socks. Likes to eat peanut butter.

Mrs. Tarries, language arts – African American, diet drinks, likes microwave popcorn.

Mrs. McGreen, health/nutrition – diet drinks, eats carrots for snacks

Mrs. Parrot, science – Likes orange drinks

Mr. Martinez, social studies – From Honduras, where they speak Spanish. Only drinks coffee.

Mrs. Sand, math – Never eats or drinks in her classroom.

Mrs. Tan, P.E. – Asian American. Likes French fries almost as much as Aja.

In the quiet, we heard Bree say, “Good, I think we have it figured out.”

My head jerked up. The girls were all smiling. They knew who made their graffiti poster.

My team groaned. We had to do some good detective work before Graffiti Day or the girls would win.

After history, I checked the Egg Cam again. Mom was sitting beside The Egg on a huge pillow. It was her new stomach pillow. But it was hot to wear, so at home, she just sat on it.

The next day in art class, Mrs. Lynx walked in with in a magnifying glass as big as a dinner plate. She had done this a couple times already, but she kept coming back to make new observations. Again, she studied every painting on the Accidental Art bulletin board. This time, she copied the zigzag fingerprints into a small notebook.

Bree and I watched and frowned.

Aja watched from his table and frowned. He stood up once, but sat back down. In the end, though, a detective hates for another detective to be wrong. He marched over to Mrs. Lynx and handed her a fake fingerprint and the instruction card.

Great! That’s exactly what Dad wanted to happen.

Mrs. Lynx read the card. She put an alien fingerprint on her index finger. She dipped it in paint and then touched my picture of the Three Suns of Bix. It made a new alien fingerprint.

Mrs. Lynx didn’t yell.

Mrs. Lynx didn’t get mad.

Instead, she smiled. “Aja,” she said, “those aliens have tricked you. You think all the fingerprints are fake. You’re wrong. These fake fingerprints prove that there are aliens. Think. When did you see these fake fingerprints for the first time?”

“This week,” Aja said.

“Right,” Mrs. Lynx said. “After I found the first zigzag fingerprint.”

“Oh,” Aja said.

“Yes,” Mrs. Lynx said. “After. That means the aliens are trying to fake us out.”

“You are a good detective,” Aja said.

“Thanks.” Mrs. Lynx pulled off the fake fingerprint, and stuck it to the back of the instruction card. “These are good clues,” she said. “I will go analyze them.” She picked up her magnifying glass and walked out.

Bree whispered, “What now?”

I sat on my hands. “I need to wear gloves from now on.”

“No, you need fake Earthling fingerprints,” she said.

“Hey! That might work,” I said. “I just can’t let Mrs. Lynx see my hands.”

Bree said, “See my thumb?”

I stared at it.

“Gee, you’re dumb,” Bree said, and then laughed to show me it was a joke.

I didn’t laugh. I don’t understand Earthling jokes.