Well, that was fun. And exhausting. But it was great being outside again. I almost forgot what it feels like to be in a real atmosphere. The space station’s oxygen circulation system is pretty impressive and all, but nothing beats the smell of real, fresh air.

And then I step onto the bus.

It smells like the inside of an old, dirty sweat sock. That somebody put a dead rat in. And left in the sun for a month.

And then dragged through a sewer.

It’s not too hard to figure out what the cause is, either.

Telly Torkintottintin. The only kid still sitting anywhere near him is Roan Nonaze, and that’s only because Roan doesn’t have a nose. Lightyear immediately takes off and jumps up on the seat next to Telly. He’s in heaven. I guess the stronger the smell the better, as far as Lightyear’s concerned.

And then it starts.

“Sme-lly Te-lly! Sme-lly Te-lly!”

It almost seems like he was named Telly for this exact moment. Poor guy. And ol’ Larva Boy here knows just how he feels. So I sit down next to Lightyear. I make sure to breathe only through my mouth, a trick I learned when I used to have to use the bathroom right after Grandpa Karl. But that doesn’t stop my eyes from watering. And I swear I can actually taste the odor.

“You don’t have to sit here. I know how awful it is.”

“How awful what is?”

“C’mon, Kelvin. I’m not stupid.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad. But now that you mention it, what’s going on? We sit by each other in Professor Plutz’s class every day, and I’ve never noticed anything. Did you fall in something out there, or what?”

“Nah. Nothing like that. It’s just that when I feel threatened, my body secretes this liquid as a kind of self-defense. I can’t control it. I think it activated when Mr. Jeddee was attacked by that worm.”

Wow. Note to self—never pop out from around a corner and surprise Telly. Lightyear sure doesn’t seem to mind, though. He loves Telly. Actually, I think he’s all right, too. I mean, besides the gagtacular odor.

“So how come I never see you around after school?”

“Well, I’m pretty busy taking lessons.”

“Really? What kind? Do you play an instrument or something?”

“Nah.”

“Well, what then?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“C’mon, Telly. I promise I won’t tell anybody if you don’t want me to.”

“Yeah, but somebody might hear.”

“There’s no one within fifteen feet of us right now. Remember? The whole self-defense odor thing?”

“Dance.”

“What?”

“I take dance lessons. Now go ahead and make fun of me.”

“Why would I do that? I’m sort of doing the same thing. In fact, Zot’s coming over tonight to try to teach me a few moves so I don’t look like an idiot at the Galactic Getdown. Well, not as big of an idiot, anyway. I’m trying to impress somebody.”

“Wait. Zot is trying to help you impress someone else?”

“Yeah. We’re pretty good friends, you know.”

“Sure. I guess. Well, good luck with that. And, Kelvin?”

“Yeah?”