Troubles in the Galaxy

Saramus Dent’s headache had started to clear. He had just received a spacegram from his commander across the galaxy. He opened it with his blasto-gun. Green ink glowed against the sky. “Dent, we need you on that planet,” the spacegram said. “If you’re low on oxygen, find one of the oxygen banks hidden in the red rocks. But don’t abandon the galaxy, Dent. Whatever you do.”

Dent waited for the glowing ink to fade. Then, he stood up and groaned. Just when he got ready to ditch this weirdo galaxy once and for all, a spacegram had to come. Still, he had to admit that his commander was right. He couldn’t Just leave

Even though I almost make up a fake cough and headache the next morning, in the end I still go to school. I just hate breaking the rules. I think I’m probably the only kid at Halsey School who’s such a goody-goody. I’ve definitely seen Hildy run some Kleenex under the bathroom faucet before. Then, she’ll turn on her best sad face and exclaim, “Ew, Dad, look! My nose is dripping!”

My body feels the same as yesterday. Jumpy. Sweaty. I scan the faces of everyone in my homeroom class and between class periods. Is anyone looking at me funny? Is that a new thing, or did people always look at me funny? After second period, I pass Samantha Cho in the hall. I try to look away, pretend like I’m waiting to get a drink at the drinking fountain. She looks straight at me, her glossy black hair swinging against her cheeks. Her lips move as if she’s about to say my name. She’s forming a “D,” I just know it! I don’t wait to find out, though. Instead, I dive towards the water fountain. The water sprays all over my nose while Samantha swishes past behind me. I pretend to drink water until finally an eighth grader I don’t know taps on my back.

Um, dude. Turn’s up.”

Back at my locker before fourth period, I look in just to make sure that the notebook hasn’t magically appeared. It hasn’t. However, something else has: another note! It floats down from where my mystery notebook stealer must have shoved it through the locker door. I look around, but no one else has noticed. I snatch it up and unfold it.

You shouldn’t ignore me, are You ok?

Now this is confusing. A threat that I shouldn’t ignore this mystery person . . . mixed with a question about me being okay? No, I’m not okay. I’m freaked out! Who is this person? I have practically no friends at Halsey or anyone that I talk to, and yet somehow this certain person (I think of Hildy’s words) knows me—and where my locker is, too. The whole thing is too weird. What do they want? Maybe it’s like the mystery books I’ve read. Someone wants me to hand off a briefcase full of money in exchange for the notebook. Well, at least five bucks or something. I wish I’d emptied out my piggy bank before school this morning.

I almost decide not to eat lunch at all today—it seems too risky after everything that’s been going on. Turns out I don’t get much of a choice, though. Before I can stop him, Glenn appears out of nowhere, grabs my arm, and starts pulling me towards the lunchroom.

“Hey man! What’s up?” he says. He smiles at me and pushes his glasses up on his nose with his other hand. I flinch. I can’t help it. Glenn doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything. “I was hoping you’d sit with us today,” he says. “We have something we want to ask you.” I try to wiggle my arm out from his grip, but Glenn is surprisingly strong for one of the Doomsday Geeks. In fact, I realize I’ve never really looked at Glenn before. I kinda thought of all the Geeks as one big unit with glasses and weird haircuts and the wrong jeans. I knew not that much separated me from them, but I wanted to be sure to keep whatever did separate me very clear.

For a moment, I think of how I would always make a big sigh whenever I sat down at their table. The message of that sigh was clear, and I always meant for the other nearby tables to hear it, too. That sigh was supposed to say, “I am not one of these Geeks and I’m only sitting with them against my will.” Now, looking at Glenn, I think that he actually looks different from the other guys. Actually, all the guys look different. One has red hair. One has skin the color of caramel. Yes, Glenn’s jeans are a little weird but it’s not like he’s covered in purple spots or anything. Too bad I didn’t think through all of this sooner, before the Geeks must have found my notebook. That’s why they’re targeting me now, right?

I search back through my memories. Did I write anything about them in there? I can’t remember, but if I did, you can bet it was something mean. Glenn steers me to the Doomsday Table, and all the other guys look up from the laptop screen they’re gazing at. A carton of chocolate milk sits dangerously close to the keyboard. Right in the center of the group, smack dab in front of the computer, sits Samantha. My stomach lurches. It feels like someone is kicking me from the inside. So. This is it. The Geeks found my notebook. It was probably Glenn that pushed the note into my locker just before coming to find me. I did ignore him yesterday. Kinda. They’ve probably uploaded every page of my notebook onto that laptop. I mean, isn’t that the kind of stuff they do? And Samantha Cho is their ringleader . . . which can only mean . . . she knows.

With a surge of superhuman—almost Saramus Dent-like strength—I rip my arm from Glenn’s grip. Glenn and the whole table of Geeks stare at me. “Um, I’m feeling kinda sick,” I mumble. Then, I book it out of the lunchroom. I mean, like, I really run. If I wanted to avoid the other sixth graders watching me, this is for sure not the best way to do it. Stella Sweet pauses to stare as I race past her, her stick of pink gum frozen mid-chew in her mouth.

“Mr. Seeley!” Ms. Arple yells sharply. “No running!”

I’m not listening, though. I sprint out of the lunchroom, banging the doors behind me. I don’t stop until I’ve reached the library. Two other sixth graders— Tina and Julian, I think—look up and glare at me as I crash through, breathing hard.

When my breathing has finally slowed down, it hits me. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I mean, seriously, what WAS that? As if I could just run away from all of my problems. The notebook is gone, and so are the parts of my world that were documented there. It feels sad. Like all your closest friends moving away at once. Not that I would even know what having friends feels like. I just sprinted away from the only people who have ever invited me to eat lunch in Halsey School. I probably hurt Glenn’s hand, too. I keep picturing Samantha’s face: how her forehead wrinkled as I made my stupid excuse. She almost looked hurt. I think of her this morning—how she was about to talk to me, but I rushed away. This whole year, I kept writing in my notebook, complaining about being alone. Maybe that wasn’t all Halsey School’s fault. Or the Geeks’ fault. And definitely not Samantha’s fault.

A Fire Blush starts to burn through the skin of my face. This time, I’m not even sure it’ll go away.