If you squint you might see some Tim/Janet, but only if you squint. I really wanted to write something involving the Friz but the plot bunny didn't bite that way.

I do not own the Magic School Bus. "Highway to the Spork Society" is a blend of the prompts, which I do not own.

This is a response to the Fanfic Challenge: Numero Uno by lianneharmony. The fanfic must include the following:

- A 70s song (I'm going with "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC, though it's only mentioned briefly)
- A memory of 3rd grade
- A secret society
- A million-dollar smile
- A definition of the word spork ...

"We, of the Holy Spork Society, salute you!"

The hooded figures stepped forward; a flash of curly red hair was seen briefly as the wind blew the hood back. The light of the nearby campfire illuminated her pale face. The rest of the circle surrounding the fire all had different colored robes, yet they too held up sporks in their right hands. They all gave a collective shout to the treetops above and sat down on the logs behind them.

"Spork: the hybrid child of a fork and spoon, seen as an experiment gone wrong by many." Ralphie said, pulling back his hood and brandishing his spork.

"What, wait a minute, you guys had a secret society..." Janet began amid the noise in the room. While "Highway to Hell" may not have necessarily been noise, to Janet it was. She sat at the edge of the chair, a look of disbelief crossing her face. "A secret society dedicated to sporks?"

Tim nodded from his reclined position on his bed. Self-created pictures of flying buses and friends and lizards hung on the wall behind him, the edges fluttering in the night breeze from the opened window. The teenager held a sketchbook in his waiting hands, a pencil tucked behind his ear. "I'm telling you Janet, it was the weirdest thing ever done by our third grade class."

The band on the radio had reached the chorus of the 70s hit, but Janet paid it no mind as her mouth hung open slightly in disbelief.

"It wasn't her idea, was it? I mean, Carlos and Ralphie I can kind of understand, but--"

"No Janet," Tim shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips, "Ms. Frizzle really did have us form the Holy Spork Society. We don't really understand why though. That's why, even taking into consideration that we'd been practically everywhere with that magic school bus, this had to have been the most bizarre thing we'd ever done."

What he failed to tell Janet was that the Holy Spork Society had been formed during the school wide campout out of desperation: a few of her students had gotten frightened when a few of the fifth graders had told them about the fictitious brutal murders that had taken place at Camp Walker. Though to this day nobody knew why the eccentric teacher had picked sporks to honor.

Janet snorted in laughter. "Just what was she on when she came up with that? Come on, she had to have been taking acid or something."

Tim nodded, going along with everything Janet said. "That's what we all were asking when we got older. Ralphie's idea was that Ms. Frizzle's mother was doing drugs during her pregnancy in the 60s."

A smile pulled at Tim's lips as he was finally able to begin sketching the beginnings of Janet's million-dollar smile; only true amusement could cause such a radiant smile on the world's most infuriating young woman.