A short and silly Meet the Robinsons fanfiction starring Franny and Wilbur. This seemed like a much better idea when I came up with it while half-awake in my bed, but here you go.

Disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons

"I am sorry for asking you to come here again, Mrs. Robinson," Simmons told the woman facing him. Or Headmaster Franklin, as she knew him. These little meeting were getting so regular that he wonders if they would soon be on first-name basis. "But this is the third time this month that Wilbur has caused some kind of mass chaos and I am worried. This kind of behavior was excusable in a child, but your son is almost 15, now, and—"

"No need to worry, Headmaster Franklin," she said in that most peculiar voice she had today. Too much singing, she claimed, though Simmons wondered if it wasn't too much screaming at her insufferable son. He hadn't been sure he had really been talking to her when he called, but she had shown up like she agreed to. She raised a finger in a rather theatrical gesture. Simmons shuddered. As if Mrs. Robinson physical resemblance with Wilbur wasn't bad enough, the gesture was way too reminiscent of the over-dramatic teenager. "I have been very clear with Wilbur about what would happen if he caused this kind of mayhem again. It will not be pleasant. For him."

"I see you have this situation under control."

"Completely. I will see to it that he's properly punished. Just leave it to me."

"I won't keep you here any longer, then."

He stood to open the door for her. She smiled at him on her way out and it seemed strangely... satisfied.

Wilbur pushed the trapdoor open a crack and peered around the room. It was deserted. Satisfied, he jumped out of the secret entry, dashed across the room and pressed himself against the wall. He cautiously approached the hallway leading further into the house and made sure the way was clear before going in.

He stuck to the least used paths, dove of sight whenever he heard a sound and had to stay in a closet for close to ten minutes while Petunia berated Fritz about something or other. But, finally, he neared the safety of his room. He only had to make it to the other end of this corridor, round the corner, and his bedroom door would be only a few steps away. Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace.

He had to flatten himself against a wall when he heard sounds coming through one of the open doorways. He peeked in, careful to not be seen. Gaston was preparing to test one of his new cannons and he had dragged Tallulah and Laszlo up here to witness it. They were all looking away from him. Wilbur dove into a roll, coming back on his feet on the other side of the doorway. He sprinted the rest way along the corridor, pausing at the end to look around the corner. All clear.

Wilbur raced to his bedroom's partly open door, darted in and slammed the door shut behind him. He slumped against it with a sigh or relief. Too late he realized that the last person he wanted to run in right now was right here, in his room. And she heard him come in. His mother straightened from where she had been looking through his drawers and started to turn. Wilbur fumbled for the doorknob, but he knew he wouldn't be quick enough to escape before she spotted him.

"Wilbur, where did you put my—" She froze in place when she saw him. He swallowed. "Wilbur?"

"What are you doing in my room?"

"What are you doing in my dress?"

"That," he started, eyes darting around the room for some kind of distraction, "is an excellent question."