I towed Lewis towards the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and hands, then stepped aside to allow him to do the same. He just stood there, staring at his feet.

"Lewis," I sighed. "Wash the soot off."

He looked up at me. He stuck his hands under the tap. I opened the cupboard under the vanity and pulled out the invention my dad made for super quick clothes cleaning. It resembled a vacuum, one from like, 2007, but smaller.

"Come here," I instructed to Lewis. It felt kind of weird to be bossing my dad around, but I had sort of thought of Lewis as more of a friend now. He obeyed and held his arms out. I ran the QuickClean over his body, and it instantly dissolved the soot off of his clothes. I handed it to him and he did the same to me. I placed it back under the sink and put my arm around Lewis's shoulder, leading him towards the dining room.

Lewis sat across from me, staring dejectedly at the table. Carl came in from the kitchen.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is served." Carl announced as all the mini Carls burst out of his torso, each carrying a bowl filled with spaghetti and meatballs.

Lewis barely glanced at the tiny Carl and went back to staring jadedly at the bowl. They're actually kind of cute, although not as complex as Carl's hardware.

I knew that I had to think of a way to make Lewis believe in himself again or I might really disappear. I stared at him, tapping my fork on the table.

I heard Carl clear his throat. I looked over at him. He looked pointedly under the table.

"We gotta talk." He said, ducking his head underneath. I glanced around and dropped down beside him.

"Why is the kid still here? Any of this ring a bell? Science fair, Memory Scanner, a time stream that needs fixing?" he asked agitatedly.

"Temporary setback. He's just having a little confidence issue." I explained.

"You want me to talk to him?" Carl suggested.

"No." I moved to sit back up.

"I give a mean back rub." he offered.

"No." I repeated.

"Shiatsu?"

"No."

"Feng Shui?"

"No."

"Yog-?"

"No!" I grabbed a mini Carl and shoved it in his mouth. "I've got it under control!" I came up from under the table.

My mom was laughing at something. "So, Lewis, are you in Wilbur's class?"

I said "No!" at the same time Lewis said "Yes!" I shook my head and tried again. I said "Yes!" while Lewis simultaneously said "No!" I grimaced.

"I mean yes and no. Lewis is a new transfer student," I lied hurriedly. She seemed to buy it.

"Where you from, Lewis?" asked Uncle Gaston.

"Um…Canada?" Lewis stammered.

"I think you mean North Montana. Hasn't been called Canada in years," Tallulah said as she propped herself on her elbows.

"Do you know Sam Gunderson?" asked Grandma Lucille. I vaguely remembered him as Lucille's cousin's nephew. I hoped Lewis could come up with something as fast as I could.

"Well, it's a big country," he reasoned.

"State!" exclaimed Tallulah.

"I wonder if you're related?" mused Grandma.

"Maybe if he took his hat off?" suggested Laszlo as he flew behind my chair.

I stopped chewing. This was headed in a bad direction.

"Oh, good! Then we can see if he has the family cowlick!" Grandma said, nudging Grandpa Bud, who was doing the cancan with his meatballs.

"He can't!" I said hastily. "Because, uh, he's got bad hat hair!"

Uncle Art scoffed at me. "Nonsense. A North Montana man doesn't care about hat hair!"

Everyone started to talk about the hat. My mom started to coax Lewis to take his hat off. I bit my knuckle. I caught sight of Uncle Gaston's meatball cannon on the table beside him. I picked up a meatball and hurled it at Uncle Gaston's face. It smacked him square in the face. He looked over at me accusatively. I pointed to my mom, who was reaching for the brim of Lewis's hat.

"And so it begins!" he declared, stuffing a meatball into his cannon. He fired it, and it slapped my mom's cheek. Her hand drew back to feel her face. Licking the meatball sauce off of her finger, she turned to her brother.

"Ha! Surely that is not the best you can do!"

He fired a few more at her, all of which she whacked away.

"Impressive, little sister. Your skills are strong, but not strong enough,"

"Your words do not threaten me, brother." she retorted

"Then enough words. Now the real battle begins!" They glared at each other for a moment. I rolled my eyes slightly. They did this every time we had spaghetti and meatballs. On the other hand, it was always fun to see who won.

Gaston shot meatball after meatball at my mom, and she deflected every one of them. I wasn't surprised. She was, after all, the one who taught me karate.

"Your meatballs are useless against me." my mom stood on top of the table, arms raised in defense.

"Then how about spicy Italian sausage!" he said, his full of bravado.

"No!" Mom's eyes widened in irrational panic. Gaston shot the sausage at her. Then her face molded into unyielding determination. Bringing the heel of her palm forward, she reflected the meat back at Gaston, and it hit him so hard he flipped backward off his chair. He stood up and grinned, sausage wedged in his mouth.

I smiled at my mom, who was shining her fingernails on her dress. "I did it." she said pompously. I had a fleeting thought of how much better it would be if my dad was here, but quickly thrust it back into my subconscious.

"Is dinner like this every night?" I heard Lewis ask Uncle Art softly.

"No, yesterday we had meatloaf." he answered earnestly. I chuckled.

Carl returned from the kitchen. "Ok, gang, time for the second course," he said while collecting the last of the dishes. "And what goes better with spaghetti and meatballs than PB & J?" He popped the attachment out of his head. I saw a flicker of realization flit across Lewis's face. I deftly caught the toast Carl shot at me, then held them flat for the peanut butter and jelly. When my toast had yet to be splattered with PB & J, I looked away from Lewis at Carl. He was banging on the contraption, trying to unblock it. That was the only problem with my dad's PB& J machine. The peanut butter always jammed it. Every time he tried to unclog it, it exploded. Good thing no one in our family had a peanut allergy, or our face could blow up like a balloon. That wouldn't be a pretty sight. I'm glad it never happened.

"Is everything all right?" my mom asked, standing up in case she was needed.

"We're just experiencing bugs." Carl muttered as he twisted the nozzle.

This was just what I needed. If Lewis fixed it, he might get his confidence back. I grabbed his arm and yanked him over to Carl and the problematic invention.

"My friend Lewis is an inventor! He can fix it!" I announced.

"Wilbur! You know I can't!" he hissed through his teeth.

"You don't know what's at stake!" Grandpa Bud said, looking at Lewis with anxiety. "Uncle Joe has seen the toast!" It was true. Uncle Joe had this thing about toast. It had to have peanut butter and jelly on it, or he lost it. I had seen him have a fit once. Not pretty. Even now his face was turning red and he started to tremble. Aunt Billie went over to stroke his hand.

"I don't know," Lewis rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

"You'd really be helping us out," Mom said to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. I knew he couldn't resist my mom's pleading smile. He put the PB&J machine on the table and pulled some tools out that he had stashed in his pocket.

He worked away determinedly on it, blocking out everything around him. That's how my dad had become while working on inventions. He ignored his surroundings (and his family) sometimes staying up all night to finish. I relished the time in between jobs, when he actually had time for me. When I was younger, my dad was still busy, but he still had time for us. Then he got the time machine idea, and inspiration after inspiration popped into his head. Now he was working on, finishing, or planning another invention. He cared more about making the world better than making time for his wife or son, or the rest of the family for that matter. Then again, he probably wouldn't want to spend time with me anyway. I pressed my fists to my head. What was wrong with me? I had to get these agonizing thoughts out of my head.

"There, that should do it," Lewis said, adding the last screw. He stuck the gizmo in Carl's hand. "Go, Carl!"

Carl aimed the nozzle at Uncle Joe's toast. The expelling end stopped spinning and jerked wildly. It exploded again, spraying PB&J everywhere. I smiled grimly, knowing I would have to QuickClean my shirt again. Lewis buried his face in his hands, groaning and apologizing.

"You failed!" said Grandpa enthusiastically.

"And it was awesome!"

"Exceptional!"

"Outstanding!"

"Aw, I've seen better!"

Lewis looked bewilderedly at his supporters.

"With failing you learn. With success, hmm, not so much." Aunt Billie explained in her quirky accent, smiling warmly at Lewis.

"If I gave up every time I failed, I would have never made the meatball cannon!" Gaston stroked his cannon affectionately.

"I would have never made my fireproof pants!" Grandpa lit his pants on fire to demonstrate, but the simply poofed into ash. "Eh, still working out the kinks." I shook my head.

"Like my husband always says…" Mom gave Carl his cue. Suddenly the dining room was bursting with banners, fireworks, and music that shrieked "Keep Moving Forward!"

Everyone clamored around Lewis when it was done, encouraging and congratulating him. My mom tapped the side of her glass.

"Ok, everyone, everyone quiet down. I propose a toast to Lewis and his brilliant failure. May it lead to success in the future." My mom smiled tenderly at Lewis, who was gazing gratefully back at everybody.

"Gosh, you guys are so nice to me. If I had a family, I'd want them to be just like you."

My mom's smile faltered a bit. "Well, to Lewis!"

Everyone echoed, "To Lewis!" and we all dumped our sparkling water on our heads. That was the best thing about our toasts. Lewis looked a little mystified but he did the same.

My mom sidled up to me. "What did he mean 'if he had a family'?"

I absently pulled a speck off my glass. "Oh, Lewis is an orphan." I said nonchalantly.

"Orphan!" she gasped and I wondered if I had said too much. I faintly felt a vibration under my feet. The vibration became a vigorous rumble, shaking the whole house. I heard a roar, and I spun around. There was a large shape beyond the giant glass window that covered the whole wall. A shape that looked like a…dinosaur? I realized with horror there was indeed a 20-foot-tall extinct reptile outside my house. I couldn't feel my legs.

Lewis, however, was unperturbed. "Why didn't you guys tell me you had a pet dinosaur?" he said, running up to the glass.

I barely managed to find my voice. "Um, because we don't?' I squeaked.

"What are you talking about?" Lewis said, not noticing the rest of the family's fright. "He's standing right here!" The dinosaur busted through the window. I protected my face from the shattered glass with my arms. The dinosaur opened its jaws and ate Lewis.

"No!" was all I could say. The dinosaur seemed to change his mind, and it awkwardly held its mouth open with Lewis dangling off its tongue.

"Chew-chew on this!" yelled Aunt Billie, steering her train into the dinosaur. If I wasn't so scared that would have been a very bad pun. The dinosaur just ran on the train like a treadmill and jumped back on to the balcony.

"Lewis!" I called out. My mom gasped. Then the family leaped into rescue mode.

"Stay here!" Carl warned me as he charged along with everyone else to save Lewis. I didn't know what he was talking about. How was I supposed to just sit here while my father/best friend got eaten by a prehistoric monster? I darted around to the back, sneaking past the frog bar and dinosaur trees. I heard a cry of "Run!" as Lewis ran up the hill, the dinosaur snapping at his feet. Lewis cringed in a corner, but the dinosaur couldn't reach him with his puny arms. I grabbed Lewis's wrist and yanked him out of the corner. We began to flee, but then I saw it. On top of the dinosaur's huge head sat a bowler hat.

"Bowler Hat Guy!" I cried out. He was the one behind this! He obviously still had the time machine. I turned and ran towards Lewis, but my stop had left me closer to the giant reptile. He picked me up with his teeth and flung me into the air. I screamed as I plummeted into the dinosaur's eager throat. Suddenly a hand grabbed my ankle. I looked up at Lewis, who was holding on with his other hand to a shovel jammed between the dinosaur's teeth. I was relieved, but Lewis's arm couldn't hold himself up for too long, forget holding me up as well. I spied Gaston's meatball cannon. Hoping there was still some ammo left, I aimed, and pulled the cord. The meatball bounced off of the wall of the house and knocked the hat off of the dinosaur's head. The creature swayed, woozy from lack of mind control, and collapsed. We shot out of its mouth and skidded across the grass. Dizzily I wondered how I was going to explain this to my mother.