New Chapter Up! Yay!

As always, please excuse any grammar mistakes and enjoy.

I hope this is a good chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim.

"Class, I am obligated to introduce the newest hindrance to this pathetic school. This is Zim," the human educator announced. She was called Ms. Bitters. Her grey hair and wrinkled forehead hinted to Zim that she was quite old. She wore glasses, a human invention that improved eyesight, and a long purple dress, a feminie item of clothing. Some hairs grew from the top of her lip, which Zim thought was strange since he had learned the males were the ones to have facial hair.

Zim had enrolled himself into Sullen Middle Skool, apparently named after the city Sullen. Zim was confused as to why the word school was misspelled in the name. After consulting several dictionaries, he knew school did not include a k. He would have to remember to ask about it.

Zim conducted the appropriate research to eventually decipher that his height and overall appearance were most similar to the average eleven-year-old human. The human children here were from the ages of ten to fourteen. Zim was technically twelve in human years, though in Irken years he was eighteen, so it seemed fitting for him to enroll into a middle school. It was called "middle" because children attended it after "elementary" schools but prior "high" schools.

Zim tried to appear casual and human-like as Ms. Bitters continued on in her dreary, uninterested way of speaking. "He came all the way here from Denmark. Don't know why. Don't really care."

Zim had decided to pretend he was the native of a different country. If he acted strange to his schoolmates, he could simply claim it was because of his culture. If he spoke poorly, he could truthfully say his English was newly-developed. The reason he chose Denmark was because it was easier to pronounce. Also, since it was a smaller country, Zim hoped that meant the earthlings in the United States of America knew less about it.

"Zim," Ms. Bitter seemed to growl. She leaned close into his face and glared at him. "If you have something to say, say it now. Because after this, I don't want to hear a sound from you."

Ms. Bitters was fairly similar to Irkens personality-wise.

"Hello," he began with the normal human greeting. "I am happy to be here. I may act strange, but it is just because of my culture. I would like to befriend you all. Thank you."

"If you're done, take a seat!" Ms. Bitter ordered.

Take a seat? Was that a custom for newcomers?

Zim spotted an empty chair and picked it up. His human schoolmates unexpectedly laughed. When he looked at Ms. Bitter for further instructions, she was frowning angrily.

"Great. A comedian," she mumbled before yelling, "Sit down!"

Confused at the outburst, Zim placed the chair back onto the floor and sat in it. He assumed this was the correct action since Ms. Bitter said nothing more to him.

As Zim rested his arms on the desk, he glanced at his tan hand. It was unusual to see a color other than green engulf his skin.

After learning about humans, he realized the inadequacy of his former disguise. Disguises were crucial to Irken invasions, so much so that Irkens had advanced technology specifically for the purpose of having the perfect camouflage. However, Zim did not have access to this technology before his exile, nor had he built any himself. Lacking the gadgets that would have aided him in this case, Zim slaved away making the necessary improvements with what was available to him.

Zim studied various pamphlets about human fashion to understand what clothes suited his persona, and afterwards, returned to the same building he had acquired his first disguise from to gather the items he needed. Today, he had on a slightly puffy red shirt with long sleeves, a hood at the back and a convenient pocket at the front. Blue pants were indeed popular among humans, so he wore the pair he had taken on the day of his arrival. Zim realized the hat of hair, which was called a "wig," was clearly fake. The strands of it were made from a shiny, synthetic material.

Though Zim struggled to discern the difference between real and fake hair, he realized humans might notice more easily. As a solution, he snuck into his neighbor's home and cut off her hair while she was sleeping. Then, he pulled out the synthetic fibers from the cap of his wig and replaced it with the real hair. The final step was carefully cutting it into a style a twelve-year-old human boy would have. For the hair that rested above human eyes, he drew it on.

He also wore gloves with the two extra fingers stuffed with ripped clothing pieces to give the illusion that they contained actual human extremities.

As for his red eyes, Zim had the perfect tool. He may not have had Irken disguise technology, but he did have an Eye Changer. Though Irkens were not fond of playtime as it was a waste of valuable irkinutes, smeets (baby Irkens) were granted special toys. These toys were not for enjoyment but rather military preparation. For example, Zim's favorite toy was an Eye Changer. When inserted into the eyes, they changed the color each time a smeet blinked. It was designed to familiarize young Irkens to disguises. As it was truly the only enjoyable part of Zim's short-lived smeethood, he never parted with it. Zim set the Eye Changer to the color that most resembled a human's and hovered it over a fire. Applying heat would rid the toy of the special lining that allowed transitions from one color to another. The entire process took no more than fifteen Earth minutes. Now, he had the appearance of blue human eyes.

To change his skin, Zim simply applied "make-up." He had borrowed that from his neighbor as well. Make-up was an Earth substance intended to beautify humans, according to what he had read on the small monitors in the library. Zim had used those particular monitors for much of his research. They were helpful. Although, many of the digital writings were on ridiculous subjects. Who cared to know what the best "actress" of the year was? That information effected no one. Regardless, the make-up disguised his natural skin color decently well. There remained a slight green hue to it, but all Zim could do was hope it was not noticeable.

The ears and nose were the hardest part of his disguise. He found a pair of fake ears in one of the buildings in the city, which were actually "stores," but they were obviously not human. The fake noses were comically larger than a normal one. Zim had decided to build his own set of human ears and nose. That turned into a complicated task. After hours of research, he discovered which materials on Earth would be suitable for his goal. He was able to find everything he needed in one of the larger local stores after asking the humans working there for help—he had assumed they worked there, at least. His first attempt to create them was a failure, as well as his second and third and fourth. Eventually, he was met with success. He attached the fake ears—mostly made from silicone as Zim had found many "prosthetics," or fake human limbs, contained that substance— to either ends of a headband. The headband would remain hidden underneath his wig. The nose was molded from a special wax. It was a long while before Zim sculpted the shape correctly. The ears did not look perfect, but as long as his hair fell over them, they were realistic enough. The nose seemed decent.

He could do nothing for his sharp teeth but talk with his lips closely together.

Zim listened intensely as the teacher lectured the students. This was his time to, not only learn more, but to study the behavior of the humans up close.

"Yesterday, I explained that DNA is a two-stranded molecule that serves as the genetic code to your sad, puny bodies. Does anyone know what the bases of DNA consist of?"

No one replied. Suddenly, Ms. Bitter yelled, "Dib!"

"What?" a boy cowered in a desk at the front. He, too, had on glasses. His black hair was slicked back.

"What are the bases?"

"Um. . ." The human boy, Dib, simply stared at Ms. Bitters. His mouth was agape, as if he were going to speak, but he said nothing.

"Unclog your useless ears, listen when I teach, then maybe you're brain will work long enough to remember the answer."

"But you haven't even taught this!"

Zim was shocked at the boy's objection. Not only did he fail to answer the question, but he corrected a superior! Zim respected the boldness, but it would surely come at a price.

He waited in anticipation for Ms. Bitters to punish the boy for his impudence. Her frown deepened as she yelled, "Is that back talk? Detention!"

Detention? What punishment was that? Zim had not learned the meaning of this word.

To Zim's surprise, the boy continued to protest. Zim had been fairly audible himself when receiving some punishments on Irk, but he knew few other Irkens willing to question or try reasoning with authority. Most were as compliant as the SIR units. "Detention? But that's not fair!"

"I know. I'm giving you a taste of what you have to look forward to when you're an adult. Thank me by shutting up."

Ms. Bitters did not seem the type of authoritarian to rescind a decision. Her patronizing attitude reminded Zim of his former superiors. Humans were more alike to Irkens than he originally suspected.

"Zim!" he suddenly heard her cry. "What are the bases of DNA?"

Zim did not dare respond. This could be a test.

"Well? Do you know or don't you?"

Zim reluctantly decided to say something. "I might know, but you said to me not to make sounds."

His schoolmates were laughing again. They often laughed for no reason. Was there a joke he did not understand here? Did humans not laugh as a form of amusement as he had confirmed from his research? Was laughing also a sign of fear? Or respect? Or agreement?

"Just answer the question, Zim!" she ordered.

Zim would not cause trouble by refusing a direct order. "Athenine, thymine, cytosine, guanine." Zim had studied the biology of the human body thoroughly. The information was fresh in his brain.

Ms. Bitters hummed studiously.

Did humans sing under these sorts of circumstances? Was it a method of intimidation?

"Okay. If you're so smart, what does DNA stand for?"

This time, Zim did not hesitate. "Deoxyribonucleic acid."

"Well," said Ms. Bitters slowly, walking to Zim's desk to loom over him. "It seems one of you miserable brats' heads isn't completely empty. There's a brain somewhere in there, though I imagine it's small."

She was talking too quickly. It was difficult to understand her. It nearly sounded as if she had said the students had no brains, but Zim had read that humans could not function without a brain.

Ms. Bitters continued to lecture the class, and Zim made it is his mission to listen intently in order to learn as much as possible. She was explaining protein synthesis, an important process in the human body. Zim had briefly read over it, but these added facts were rather difficult to comprehend at once.

"Okay," she said. "I have about five more minutes before the next group of lazy scourages show up, so in the mean time. . .I don't know. Do something that won't aggravate me. And no talking!" she commanded.

As Zim carefully recalled Ms. Bitters's lesson, a human boy with dots speckling his cheeks and a hat covering his eyes tapped his shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "Zim, right?"

Zim simply stared at him.

"Isn't that your name?"

Zim nodded, a gesture on Earth that expressed affirmation.

"So are you, like, a foreign exchange student or something?"

Zim glanced at Ms. Bitters. She was reading a book at her desk, seemingly unaware of the boy speaking.

"Hello? Dude? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Zim pointed at the teacher. He was heedful to have his fake fingers seem real as he did so.

"Don't worry. If we whisper, she won't notice. So what country are you from again?"

Zim was conflicted. Should he respond? What if this was a test? Would he be punished the second he spoke? Punishments did not scare Zim on Irk, but he could not jeopardize this invasion. Besides, he knew nothing of punishments here. Were they harsher? Lighter? Would he be sent to their prison for disobedience?

Suddenly, there was a long, loud ringing sound.

The students shuffled around, stuffing books and papers inside their bags. They were chatting to one another as they left the room. Ms. Bitters did not seem to care.

"Zim?" the boy said. His voice was at a normal volume this time.

"Denmark," he answered.

"Cool. By the way, what's your next class?"

"Math with Mr. Elliot," Zim said. He had memorized his schedule earlier.

"That's right across from mine. I'll show you where it is. Hey, Tae!" he yelled. Another student who had short brown hair and wore a green shirt turned to them. "Come on! We're showing Zim where his class is?"

"Fine with me," the boy, Tae, shrugged.

As they exited Ms. Bitters classroom, the boy with the hat said, "I never introduced myself. I'm Carl. Over there's Tae."

"Hello."

"Nice job answering that question in class," Tae smiled. "She always asks us something she's never taught just to embarrass us."

Were humans this age ignorant of their own biology? Perhaps they were not as intelligent as Zim believed.

"Her face was so funny," chuckled Carl. "She was all like, Oh, no! He actually knows he answer." He assumed a high-pitched voice in mockery of their teacher.

Earthlings did not respect their superiors nearly as much as Irkens. Truthfully, it was a refreshing difference.

"It wasn't that big of a deal," someone muttered from behind them.

Zim turned around to see that it was Dib, the boy from before.

"Says the guy who got detention because he didn't know the answer!" retorted Carl.

"You know, I could have answered that question if I wanted to!"

"Then, why did you not?" asked Zim. It was a logical inquiry.

"Because I. . .I didn't feel like it, okay?" said Dib. He was stumbling over his words as though he conceived the excuse on the spot.

"Talking does not take much effort."

"Well, I was making a point. It's not fair for Ms. Bitters to purposely ask us questions we don't know the answers to just so she can embarrass us."

"How did you help? Did she not embarrass you anyway?"

"No, she didn't!" he contended.

"Are you certain? It was rather embarrassing to watch." Zim had no aim to offend. It was a mere observation, a thoughtless comment, but it had Dib's mouth curling into an angry frown. His teeth were even bare.

"Hah! It's so true," snickered Carl. "Anyway, Zim, you shouldn't talk to Dib. He's into a bunch of freaky stuff."

"Besides," added Tae, "we'll be late for class if we don't hurry up."

"Yeah, let's go."

Before Zim could reply, they were dragging him away.

They quickly ushered Zim to the room Mr. Elliot taught his lessons in. Then, the two human males walked to their own class. Most of the seats were in use, but Zim was able to find an empty chair. Soon after he sat down, Dib was standing over him.

"You're sitting in my seat," he glared.

"Your seat? Is this not owned by the school?"

"You know what I mean!" he snapped in a raised voice. "This is my assigned seat!"

"Assigned?" Zim understood. Irkens were assigned homes, positions, etcetera. "I apologize. I will move."

"Oh! You must be the new student from Denmark!" exclaimed a man with orange hair, bangs parted down the middle, and rectangular glasses. Zim inferred that this was Mr. Elliot. "Welcome! We're glad to have you."

"I am glad to be here, sir."

"So polite!" He looked at Dib. "Dib, hurry and sit."

"But he's in my seat!" Dib argued.

"You're not being too welcoming, Dib. He's new here. There's an empty chair right next to him. Sit there."

"But. . .he's. . .Mr. Elliot—"

"Just sit down!" he scolded, much gentler than any Irken Zim had ever heard.

"Fine," grumbled Dib.

This human seemed to have grown a disdain for Zim, which was unfavorable for him. Zim had no need for enemies now. He preferred to be on friendly terms with all of his classmates. If he acted kinder, would a resolution be reached between Dib and himself?

He watched Dib from the corner of his eye. The young human wrote something on a sheet of paper. He turned his pencil over only for the pink end to break off. "Can I borrow an eraser?" he asked the girl in the seat beside him.

"I'm using it," she told him.

Zim seized this opportunity. He rummaged through his school bag for the device humans used to delete mistakes on paper and offered it to Dib. Yesterday, in proportion to his research, Zim had gathered the typical school supplies most students needed from one of the stores.

Dib glanced at the eraser. His hand moved as if he were going to accept it, but instead, he resentfully said, "No thanks."

Zim sighed, returning his eraser to his bag. He regarded the paper Dib was writing on and noticed that, rather than words, Dib was drawing pictures. Perhaps complementing his work would help. Mr. Elliot had not decreed no talking as Ms. Bitters had. Plus, he had not even started the lesson. He was still sorting papers on his desk.

"What are you drawing?" Zim began.

Dib slammed his arm over the paper. "Nothing."

Nothing? Zim did not understand why he would lie when it was obvious he was drawing something. "Can I look at it? I am sure it is good."

"No, forget it." Dib hurriedly crumpled up the paper.

Zim reached for it anyway. "I want to see."

"No!" Dib denied. As he held it away from Zim, the ball of wrinkled paper fell from Dib's grip and hit the head of a fat human boy sitting in the desk behind him with his face tucked into his arms.

"Dib!" snarled the boy, rising from the chair.

"Wait, Chunk! It's not my fault!"

"Now, now," Mr. Elliot intervened. "What seems to be the problem?"

The boy, Chunk, spoke first. "Dib threw this at my head on purpose!" He showed Mr. Elliot the drawing Dib had crumpled.

When Mr. Elliot took it and began flattening it out for examination, Dib appeared to panic. He attempted to snatch it from the teacher's hand. "No, Mr. Elliot! It's nothing! Don't look at it!"

Mr. Elliot smiled, holding the paper high so Dib could not grab it. "If it's nothing, Dib, then there should be no harm in looking at it." The teacher finished his task of smoothing the creases. He scrutinized the drawing carefully. In seconds, his happy smile faded. He shook his head at Dib. "I did not know you saw me this way, Dib. I mean, I always encourage creativity, but this. . ." He thrusted the paper in Dib's face.

Zim was able to see it was a rough drawing of a human with puffy hair, unusually large shoes, a spotted tie, and a circular nose. His hair was on fire and a small creature, resembling a dog, was chasing him. The name Mr. Elliot was written across the top.

"No! It's. . .it's not you, Mr. Elliot! It's just a funny picture I drew for you. You know, because you love a good laugh."

Mr. Elliot inspected the drawing once again before nodding. "Oh. Thank you, Dib. I appreciate it."

Zim rolled his eyes. This human was awfully gullible.

"But next time, be sure to write a to in front of Mr. Elliot to avoid any misunderstandings. Although, I must ask why you crumpled it up."

"Uh. . ." Dib laughed sheepishly. "Well, that's just because I didn't think it looked good enough."

"But he threw it at my head!" yelled Chunk.

"It was an accident!"

"It was on purpose!"

Mr. Elliot sighed. "Okay, okay. Dib, I am grateful for the drawing but you shouldn't be doing it in class. And no throwing anymore papers. If I hear of it again, I'll have no choice but to speak with your father."

"Yes, sir," Dib surrendered.

"Now, that that's settled, let's talk about the pythagorean theorem!" he cheered excitedly.

Before sitting, Chunk whispered, "Don't think this is over, Dib."

Zim did not fail to notice Dib glaring at him throughout the lesson. Zim hoped there remained a chance to appease the boy. Otherwise, he had made his first human enemy.

Well, Zim and Dib are off to a rough start. We'll see what happens next in the following chapter.

Please, comment. Constructive criticism is welcome.