Chapter 11: " Figures... "

As the day went on, the rain eased into a light shower, and the bleak clouds that darkened the world dwindled. Splotches of blue could be spotted in the sky, very meek, translucent smears in the whiteness above. Dib stood amongst the falling water, and his clothes soaked it all like sponges, darkening in appearance. He had his hoody on, and his hands were in his pockets. However, he didn't register the dampness as he stood in thought. He stared blankly, into the distance of the gathering neighborhoods. Dib would emerge back into reality when a quiet, rumble of thunder resonated throughout the skies, echoing to the beyond. It was those times when he would also remember the soccer game that was being played, a good few yards to his side by tenacious all-weather players.

As he was about to sink back into the depths of his mind, he heard the squelching sound of the grass being pressed. Someone was coming closer; A slight red light alarmed it might be Zim, however Dib knew he wouldn't come near him out of his own volition. His little sister approached him.

" Something the bother?" Gaz asked. She noticed him standing in the middle of the soccer fields in solitude. By the tone of her voice, which wasn't much of a difference from her usual drone, he could tell she was slightly irritated. He sensed that her question had a concealed feeling of her saying she wanted an explanation. Dib didn't sit by her at lunch, after being 20 minutes late and ignored her presence. Not that it was his obligation to do so, however Gaz was easily offended. It didn't surprise him much.

" Nothing." Dib said quietly. There was a pause.

" Now that's a lie." She shifted on her feet. The rain pattering on her umbrella was quiet, though it slightly changed with her moving position. " Something's made you upset."

"...I don't really feel the need to talk about it." Dib sighed to himself. Gaz didn't say anymore. She simply turned around and walked away. He was grateful that she wasn't persistent, though Dib knew that she would most likely hold a small grudge for his rudeness. However that wasn't his largest of concerns.

A sickly, deep malevolence slipped through his body, like an effective poison. Dib always hated Zim; he was that little annoyance that bothered you in your worst of times. The inconvenience that so happened to occur every time you encountered it when you needed it least. A bee that never left, but rather buzzed in your ear, and any sort of reciprocal action—a general swat, maybe—earned you a hearty thrust of it's stinger. No matter what, he couldn't shake his mind away from his anger; that Zim would be so audacious to mention Dib's mother...

Now he was beginning to dissect. That's what he was doing; living only to be the hell and possible torment that Dib would always know. Every time Dib saw him, his face already brought annoyance, but now...it would be a never ending disgust. A repulsion in his eyes; an object of loathing, and his vent out of malice. Dib felt so much hatred, it made his stomach tighten, and his muscles shake. And yet his father wanted them to be friends...

Dib turned around and headed back to the school. The bell had rung, and he didn't recognize that it did until he realized the quieter it became when the soccer players had gone. He knew he was going to be late; he was going to art class, and it was quite a distance away. Running wasn't an option. His mind was too agitated to focus on anything. Inwardly, he hated the thought of going to class. Not that he was ever eager, however a cloud hung about him, and it upset him. Dib forced the shaking in his hands to stop, as he continued on walking.

The anger, The hatred...for once in his life, he resented the feeling of having it, now feeling so overwhelmed by it. It felt horrible as it crawled under his skin, like a parasite that further extended it's population inside it's host. It slithered coldy inside his body, and to an extent, it made him feel sick. Dib continued walked, pensively. He remembered that in this period he would have class with Zim...And he couldn't even begin at how disgusted he felt. How revolted, and reluctant. Though, seemingly beyond his will, he continued walking. Probably not for the best.

• • •

Dib stared at the window and reflected slightly on his actions. It wasn't entirely his belief he didn't anything wrong, however he went over the events in chronological order and thought about the way he reacted. Sometimes his thoughts meandered in the direction of his new found abhorrence towards that shit-pieced alien. However he managed to remove his mind of those thoughts and continued thinking about his past. As much as Dib hated to admit it, Zim was the cause of his recent imaginings that made him think more closely about his life, and try to act it out more knowledgeably. It wasn't something he was going to credit him for, definitely not, but he was at least going to acknowledge for the sake of being mature.

Dib had pulled a chair from the kitchen and set it before the window in the living room, that gave visage to outside in the front of the house. Gaz was in her bedroom, and the only lights that were on were of her room, and the kitchen. The living room remained a pastel blue, from the clouds and setting sun that was concealed from it's glory. It had officially stopped raining, and what remained were the dampened surfaces of the earth, the blue of the water still in the sky, and the cold aura that remained within the still air. At that moment, staring outside into the blue world before him, Dib realized he was humming silently. A song that he usually listened to on his computer, whenever doing research or merely in the mood of listening to his playlists. He didn't feel the need to get himself an mp3, concerning he rarely listened to music. It wasn't a habit, or a necessity, like it was for some people. Just merely music just to be music when he needed it to be.

Dib saw a car pull into their driveway, and knew that it was their father. This time, the sight seemingly brought a sense of hesitance, almost. Sullen. He got up from the chair, and grabbed it by its base frame. He walked back into the kitchen and placed it back down to it's designated spot. One thing Dib didn't really like about those chairs is their high resemblance to the DCM chairs at school. Also meaning their high level of uncomfortable posture.

He re-entered the living room and approached the door. Dib unlocked the door knob and opened it, just before his father had inserted his key. He caught him off guard for a few moments before Professor Membrane looked up at his son.

"Oh. Dib..." He said simply, placing his keys inside his lab coat pocket. He entered inside as his son stepped out of his way. Dib caught a small whiff of his father's cologne, having been diluted from the rain. It still managed to assault his nostrils a notch. He closed the door and re-locked it. His father was home extraordinarily early today; he'd usually spend around 13 hours at the Membrane laboratories. Sometimes, if he was too absorbed, or involved in his work, he would stay longer. Dib wondered what made him change his mind. However he wasn't too concerned about it and waved it away a moment later. His father placed his duffel bag on the couch, and made his way to the kitchen.

" Where's your sister?"

" In her bedroom." Dib remarked.

" Ah...How was school?" His father asked, his voice stretching into the other room. Dib noticed the reluctance of asking that question. His father knew that this conversation wouldn't produce positive vibes, and eventually be the rise of their little talks. But he carried on anyway, wanting to hear how the situation went for the first day. Though that was the leading factor to his disinclination. The fact that he knew that it didn't go well the first day, and to act like he was ignorant to the fact annoyed him.

Dib decided to let his silence do the talking, as he sat down at the couch, beside his father's materials. He stared at the TV, black in expression. The dark screen reflected the lights spilling out of the kitchen, and appeared smeared and blended in it's surface. After his pause, He heard his father's boots knock against the tiled surface of the floor, leaving the kitchen and approach the couch slowly. There was another pause before his father sighed.

" Dib...make it an effort to understand. You don't see it yet, but I know that this will be helpful for you."

No reply.

"...I understand that you're angry...And you feel betrayed..." Betrayed? That was one word for it... " But know that this is only for the best." Dib's face contorted and he felt his emotions rise once again. All of the details of today were beginning to embed themselves in his memory, and it was overwhelming his mind. Remembering caused too much instability, and Dib tried his best to remain calm. His heart raced, and he closed his eyes from his mental disarray.

" How?" He asked. His father leaned down beside him, and Dib couldn't face him.

" Son...there are going to be people who you don't like. There are always going to be those people." He began, placing a hand against his shoulder. " Knowing how to deal with them is...essential. And one of the best ways to do it, as one of our greatest presidents has said, " Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?"

His father quoted. Dib failed to see the glory in that sentence. It could be applied in any other given circumstance. However he hated the fact that he lived in one where that could never apply; one that couldn't even exist, even if he wanted to by some insane quality. Thinking about it, and adding to the fact at how revolting Zim was made Dib grimace.

"...He mocked mom..." Dib said, weakly. There was a moment of abrupt confusion from his father. He could feel it from the way he stood still for the passing moments.

"...What?"

"...He insulted me...insulted Mom and you again..." Dib shook his head, and then glanced up at him. " He read the police files of mom's obituary and mocked her... he's just disgusting!" Dib exclaimed. " And you want me t-to become friends with him, Dad? You want me to go every day to school, and share my life with this...this person!" Dib snapped, looking up at him.

His father only shook his head in response.

" Dib, why would he do that? Why would he research our own files?" He doubted. For a moment, he felt offended. That was always one thing he was good at. Doubting. Refusing to believe. Shooting down any truth that he tried to give him. Like father, like son... " It doesn't make any sense." His father added.

" I was there when he told me, Dad. He insulted us!"

" He did it to get on your nerves, and you allowed it to work. If he's going to play these games, you need to rise above them." He confided, fixing his glasses. Always trying to perfect his outward appearance; anything that insulted him would just be a mere annoyance that didn't deserve the attention. Dib momentarily thought he was that annoyance right now. It made his stomach sink; as he began to feel his own rise. It made his head fill with blood, and his brow begin to sweat lightly. Dib never felt angry at his father before, until now. He wasn't so sure if that was a good thing.

" Is that all you ever think this is? Games?"

" Dib, I highly doubt this kid—Zim— would center himself so much around your life just to make you angry."

" It's because you never believe anything! You never want to believe." His father's face became more stern.

" Dib. There is a difference between wanting to believe, and not being able to." His father said solemnly.

" And what holds you back? That convinces you so much that you cannot be bothered by the concerns of your son?"

" The fact your concerns are fairy tales, Dib. You refuse to learn discerning the two."

Dib's face fell blank. His mind reset, and re-processed the thoughts going through his head, over the information he'd just heard. It appalled him, to think that his father believed Dib made these prospects about Zim. As if he would create such a facade. And for what purpose? What achievement would he gain if he did so? He shook his head, and was genuinely shocked. A lump was stuck in his throat, and his nerves were making his skin crawl.

"...You think I made this up?" Dib asked, hurt.

" I think you concern yourself way too much for this boy."

" I'm not lying, Dad! There would be not point for me to lie to you!"

" Then why do you still approach me with these issues?" He snapped.

" Because you're supposed to believe your son!"

His father's face was scarlet.

" And I'm supposed to believe that this boy is trying to take over the universe? Dib?" He almost yelled. " I'm supposed to believe that he created this weapon to destroy mankind, and he knows an alien language? Am I?

" I'm supposed to believe that my son still believes in the stupidity of the world? Am I Dib!

" Why don't you think before you say anything!"

Gaz had been peeking inconspicuously over the wall that lead into the kitchen. But now she allowed herself to become known. She was standing there, just as astonished beyond comprehension as her brother. Dib was the only one that noticed her, but he didn't register it completely. His waring mind didn't allow him to do so.

It was silent. One that could only be reminded of death of how quiet it was. His father stammered, and suffered a moment of realization, his mind reeling over the words he'd just spoken so impulsively. However, he'd gotten his point across. Acted out on complete foolish and involuntary emotion, or not; He'd spoken his mind...The truth.

Dib looked down to the ground, closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

"...My mistake...Professor." Dib remarked coldly. He excused himself from the room and made his way past Gaz. He entered into his bedroom and closed the door. Dib felt now that he'd encountered something much more solemn, a wall of heights incalculable. His mind, in a mess of it's own carnage, tried to reason with itself. Why Dib acted like he did. Why he felt so hurt... Was it selfish of him to act this way? As if his opinions were to be of his father's top priority? Was this wrong?

He leaned against the door and tried to remove himself from his situation, wanting to rid himself of the pain of the world. Tried to picture something better. Something happier. All that came back were memories...Memories of a mother.

The one that emboldened his every motive, cheered his every success and supported his every falling...Was it selfish to think that was his happiness? Because his mother was the one who'd notice him?

Dib shielded his eyes, and shut them tightly. His muscles shivered and quaked his balance of breathing. He was no longer in control of what he felt and what he thought; the tempest of his emotions now dominating over his logic. Confusion overriding his sense of direction. Water dripped from his cheeks onto the floor.

He'd had never talked back, never disrespected his father. He did all he could do to honor him. He tried his best to understand that his father just had difficulties with family, concerning his place in his career. He tried to understand that his father was just a solitude man; one who'd need his space more than...family. Dib esteemed him; he was the founder of his own science research labs. He was a proud man who was proud of his work, his ability...

Dib got up and went to his desk. He sat down against his chair and rushed his hand to the mouse, turning on his computer. He mentally chastised himself, rubbed his eyes and opened his media player. He needed something to occupy his mind. Something to get him away from these thoughts. He chose a song and tightened his headphones against his ears, and turned the volume up. Dib closed his eyes. He didn't want these thoughts. He couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to be subject to them. Pondering, and thinking upon them wasn't a choice. It shouldn't happen.

How else then could he believe?

Dib was proud of his Dad...He was...

And yet he couldn't even be proud of his own son.

Stop that. You know that he's proud of you, you're just angry.

He's proud of the idea of me. He's proud of the fact that he has a son who has potential. He's not proud the fact that son is me.

You let his words in to yourself too deeply. What he said wasn't intentional, you know that.

I do. It wasn't intentional. It wasn't intended to be spoken. But it was acknowledged. It was his thoughts. Thoughts that were intended to be concealed.

You don't know that; you're not thinking properly.

And you know what's sad about that? You're right. To him? To the Professor? I never did.

• • •

Zim didn't even consider going to the lunch room. His trail of thoughts lead elsewhere, and as soon as he'd left the office, he exited the school front doors, entering the vestibule. However he stopped abruptly at his tracks as he saw the rain shattering against the ground. He gritted his teeth, and he remembered his umbrella was all the way back in the locker halls. Zim let out an aggravated exclaim and he clenched his hands in fists, his levels of intolerance unbinding to dangerous areas.

" Damn it all." He growled and he turned back. Pushing open the doors, he marched his way down the hallways and temporarily suffered from his still hurting body. Throughout his mental rampaging, he'd forgotten about his sores and aches. Though right now he didn't want to concentrate on the pain; it would only act like a flint and that energy wasn't necessary in this moment.

Zim walked down the halls, and he'd passed by a few kids on the way and immediately received open insults and mocks. Zim responded with a frantic flip of the finger and continued walking, growing greener in the face as the children laughed.

" Fucking humans..." Zim muttered, with the strong will to assault anybody within that moment. He felt almost as if he was burning on the inside, his fiery choler expelling in his body. He took a few relieving breaths, however it didn't cease his mind off of feeding on wild imaginations of massacre.

How was he able to counter everything? After all of those remarks, all of the deliveries and slandering; yet Dib had to open his mouth and saw just a few things, and set another fuse.

Zim had entered the locker hallways and could hardly concentrate on what he was doing at the moment; he'd stopped his thinking and slammed his fist against an unsuspecting green locker door, lived in the moment of regret of his shattering nerves and wailing signals that rushed to his brain, and continued down the hallway.

There was a bright flash that shined through the windows and a following thunderclap that boomed after wards, and Zim even cursed that out. He approached his locker and rammed his fingers against the combinational lock dial, and winded the device in order. However, his locker apparently didn't like the code he'd entered and refused to open, and perhaps too loudly, cursed a number of words.

"...Zim?" A voice called. The familiar voice caused him to look to his right and stopped himself from reacting negatively; It was Ms. Zoe. He didn't know what she was doing in the locker halls, however he didn't care. Right now was not the time for her outreach of distasteful tenderness. Heat rose to his head and he managed a long sigh, shakily however depleting.

Zim continued working with his locker and Ms. Zoe approached slowly, more cautiously perhaps; probably perplexity.

" Zim, are you okay?" She asked lightly, seeing his flushed face. Her voice always seemed to never have any sense of intense agitation, or level of force that brought emotion or authority to her tone. Even when she was angry, it was still mousy as it was at this moment. Zim kept his eyes at the dial and tried to lift the hatch, and it wouldn't budge, his locker still not pleased with his endeavors. He raged, stopped within every fiber of his being from assaulting his locker, and placed a hand against his brow.

" No...Ms. Zoe..." He answered gravely, before his hands rushed back to the dial. This disobedient shit-locker was going to be picked apart by his PAK arachnid legs if it decided to affront him another time. Ms. Zoe watched a few moments longer before she extended her hand and placed it against his dial. He immediately flinched and recoiled against her action, whipping his hand away and backing away in an almost readied pose. It was more than a startle; it was literally bewildering, and Zim's eyes were furrowed from the alarming event. Ms. Zoe was also a surprised by his reaction, as if she'd done a heinous act like torching him with a branding iron. He didn't realize until a moment later, but Zim might have smacked her hand away, judging by her extreme look of astound.

" It's...okay, Zim." She reassured, carefully, holding her assaulted hand. It was one thing to be insulted of your position of authority, but to be hit by the same student was a considerable climb of levels. Something must've been the cause of his extreme discomfort for people. It made Ms. Zoe all the more confused of why he acted like this.

" I'm just trying to help...There's a specific way to use these." Ms. Zoe informed, talking as if she were trying to calm an injured animal. Zim slowly stood taller and flitted his eyes from both her and his locker, feeling entirely that this was an invasion of his privacy and property. Even if he never used it...

" You pass your first digit once...then go to it...okay?" She said, demonstrating with random numbers. He still kept his eyes steady upon her face. Ms. Zoe took note of this and held up hand that showed she meant no harm. " Repeat for the second digit...and then go to your third without passing it over." She said, and then lifted the hatch with no avail. It was to be expected; Zim knew this. He wasn't stupid. She was giving an example...No harm done. It's not like she was genuinely trying to to get inside and into his stuff.

She lifted her hand away from his locker and took a step back, expressing she wasn't of any threat. Zim waited a few moments before he approached it and tried again, mentally remembering each number. His heart was on edge. For whatever reason, her doing that made his heart climb mountains and he could practically feel it slam against his chest.

He ignored his pulse and again tried to lift the latch, but did not work.

Zim shook his head, and immediately began walking away.

" Wait, Zim!" Ms. Zoe called. Despite everything in his mind telling him, every muscle and sinew warning, and his body persuading him to ignore her, He stopped. Zim halted his muscles from moving, ignoring the flowing energy coaxing him to walk further. And with a reason he didn't know why himself, Disobeying every sense of hesitance and objection, he turned back and looked at her.

" I can do this. Let me help." She insisted.

Zim waited, almost a minute. His mind and body waring side on side of what to do and what not to do. However, after his great reluctance, he moved towards her again, and suffered himself not to form a grimace of any sort. One thing he wouldn't do is repress his impatience; tapping his foot repeatedly against the ground.

" Let's try it again." She said, an oral gesture encouraging him to place his hand against the dial once more. He did so, and then fought, mentally and physically, taking his entire concentration to will himself not to do anything when she reached her hand in as well. The proximity alone killed his nerves; spiking and warning that her hand was way too close for physical contact.

" Pass your fist digit." She said. He did so. " No no, turn it to the right." Zim groaned slightly, eyes still flitting from his dial to her hand. Watching it as if he was disarming a bomb that counted down, dauntingly, every second that passed.

" Okay, now go to it." Ms. Zoe said, pointing her finger for a guidance.

This isn't right. This is not right.

" Now, turn to the left, and pass your second digit." Zim listened, not entirely sure for the greater good of his mind.

Just don't...touch me.

" And now, turning back to the right, go to your third without passing." She said, and removed her hand from the locker, and brought a chill to his hand, one that he wasn't sure was ease, or his nerves becoming petrified with numbness.

And to be expectant; his locker door opened. Though this wasn't an achievement. No, it was miles from it. It annoyed him actually. Zim sighed and place a brow against his hand, and tried to think a little more light of the situation.

One thing for sure is that I'm now fully equipped with a fairy godmother of all lockers. I'll be sure to make it of great use.

Despite his great distaste to this technology, and it's stubborn nature to open on his will for it, Ms. Zoe lightened her face with a smile.

" There. Was that so hard?"

Oh ho. Do NOT start that.

Zim reached into the small compartment and snatched his umbrella, and shut the locker closed. He then shot a quick look, hopefully not a scowl, to Ms. Zoe, thinking it a good enough display of gratitude for her unneeded assistance, and turned away from her again. He began walking away, unraveling the canopy.

" Hey, Zim." Ms. Zoe called, with hesitance. Another wave of aversion passed through him, trying another deal of persuasion. However he slowed to a stop, and glanced back.

Ms. Zoe approached him and crossed her arms, seemingly trying to garner warmth. This reminded Zim that if the circumstance of needing to regain bodily heat ever so occurred, his PAK device had a small, portable storage case that held his personals. Which in this case, he mainly used for thermal layers whenever the time became necessary.

Ms. Zoe sighed and rubbed her arms.

" Whatever it is that's...bothering you..." She began, trying to avoid making the situation more awkward. "...You have people you can talk to...okay?"

Zim groaned on the inside. She was beginning to remind him of a female human version of his Computer, and it was starting to become more than annoying to notice how many similarities his Computer had with the human race..Rather more Ms. Zoe, considering she was the only person who acted this way. Namely personality, however it didn't matter; the fact is that his Computer had more than one trait that was identical to Ms. Zoe and he didn't like it. He looked back at her.

" Being angry isn't of anyone else's concern." Zim remarked, waving her idea. He cleared his throat and momentarily despised the remaining soreness. She flattened her lips, and nodded her head.

" I know...but...If you ever feel the need to...talk why you feel angry, or upset...Know that we have counselors and...teachers." She trailed off at the last word. Zim thought that she didn't want to bring much attention to herself, not wanting to appear too eager to get to know him.

To help him...

The idea itself was idiotic. Zim could, if anything, handle this rather ludicrous situation by himself. Emotional support was the idea made for fools and for the weak. The fact that people here struggled with their own emotions was inane. And Zim came to the same thought, questioning how these...things were the strongest people in their planet.

Nevertheless, it still possessed her conscious to desire aiding him...Why? Zim shuddered slightly, and tried his best not to make it seem like it was in response to her statement. Despite it, her eyebrows slightly fell from her look of hope. Zim cursed mentally at himself and tried to think of a way that he could explain...

Before Zim finished the thought, he realized what it was he felt. Pity. Again. He was just about to—no, he did want to tell her that he wasn't disgusted at her attempts. He did want to apologize for her hitting her hand. A human...pitying a human. Zim kept his eyes to the ground before he looked back up at her.

He turned around, leaving the conversation. He left the locker hallways and continued down, walking past the cafeteria. Soon he walked past the office and entered the vestibule again. Zim grabbed the runner and pulled out the canopy, and entered outside.

He had mixed feelings about this. He wasn't too sure if Ms. Zoe was someone to be trusted. Not that he trusted anyone here in the first place; however he felt a bit of alert from Ms. Zoe. It was one thing that Computer acted like that, but another thing to find another cold ugly human to imitate that. No one was just that nice without underlying intent. So far, this world had been a cruel, cold place of the same type of people. Sure there was the occasional average nice Joe and Jane, however Ms. Zoe seemed ostensible. Zim knew he would have to keep his distance. She's almost gotten under his skin twice already...

Ms. Zoe wasn't to be trusted...If anything? She was a threat.