Hello, this is my story on Zak Saturday going to school. I intend to make this as readable as possible, and to include absolutely no romance. I have seen so many Zak going to school stories with romance, and frankly, though I have no complaint with romance, i crave diversity, like how the earth needs diversity. Cliches are good, and diversity is good. Dont run away, just because I said there is no romance, read it, then run away if you must. oh, and just so you know, I'm not sure how or if I will continue this.

Zak sighed. He couldn't believe that his parents had even thought about sending him to school. SCHOOL! He had spent every year of his 11-year-old life surrounded with cryptids, and danger, and science-y stuff, and frankly, he enjoyed it. It was fun, he could see cryptids, and he could find out more about his powers. He liked all of that and, no, he did not need to 'spend time with other kids his age' as his mom, Drew, put it. The last two kids who were his age he spent time with were not fun. The alien freak, Francis, sent a bunch of space jellyfish on them, and Whadi kept on stealing his belt. He couldn't help but wonder: 'what did she want with my belt anyways?!'

"Zak Saturday" the teacher called, but of course, Zak was thinking about the problems with other kids he met. "ZAK SATURDAY!"

That caught his attention. With a start, he yelled, "What, are we under attack?" temporarily forgetting that at school, cryptids weren't attacking/being attacked a lot. At least, not as far as he could see.

His statement had made the class laugh. Whether they were laughing at him or with him, he didn't know. Judging by the guy next to him clapping him on the back while laughing, "Good one!" he would have to say that they were laughing with him.

The teacher was not amused. She continued, "Answer the question. How do you find the area of a trapezoid?" They had not yet been taught this, and the teacher wanted to see if anyone knew the answer, so she was surprised that he answered exactly, although briefly, and looking decidedly bored.

"Very good, Zak. Where did you learn this? Did they teach you early at your other school?" the teacher questioned, assuming that he, like most other kids at school, had attended school for all his life.

"What are you talking about?" Zak asked, "I was home-schooled until this moment, but my parents said that I needed to get to know other kids."

Everyone was fascinated by this: so fascinated that they forgot that this particular kid was the same kid who answered the math question correctly. By now, everyone was clamoring around, trying to ask Zak a question, and the teacher, who just recovered from a sore throat, tried vainly to call everyone back to order. Zak was wishing that she had: it's not that he didn't like the attention, he was like any other kid, but they were all talking over each other, and he was left wondering, 'how come I can understand Fisk so easily, but not these people?' Finally, he had enough, so he yelled, "One at a time people! Its not like I have five heads!"

Eventually, all the kids were quiet, and one person asked, "What is home-schooling like? Do you get to wake up at noon and everything for lessons?" clearly expecting to hear how great it was to sleep in and not have PE. (Yeah, right. With all that jumping and dodging, he doesn't need it.)

Sighing, Zak replied, "Not exactly, it's a little different. My dad is really good with math and science, so I have to learn all that stuff. And my mom knows 31 different languages, so she started teaching me some." He sighed, "Not fun when she says I have to spend the whole day speaking in some random language."

People were asking him more questions, which Zak tried to answer truthfully while not including the cryptid-related adventures, or any adventures, when finally, one girl asked the thing everyone wanted to know. "Why's your hair like that? Did you dye it, or bleach it?"

Everyone was practically sitting on their hind legs, begging to know, and were surprised when he answered, "I don't know, its natural." There was a small silence, and everyone started laughing, except a few quiet students and the teacher. Now, rather than looking upon him with awe at being home schooled, they were laughing at him and calling him old, since in their mind, white hair=old. The laughter eventually died down, and the teacher found a bull-horn someone gave her as a present, and spoke through it to get the students to quiet down and listen. Eventually, everything died down, and Zak Saturday waited for recess.