More than anything, except perhaps band practice, Lisa enjoyed hanging out with the local Mensa club. Dr. Hibbert, Principal Skinner, Professor Frink, Comic Book Guy, and the brilliant, lovely Lindsey Neagle had become almost as much a family to her as her family.
"So we can plainly see," said Frink as he pored over a map of the Springfield highway system, "that by lengthening the intervals of the traffic signals at the intersection of Route 401 and Broadway Avenue, we can reduce the total amount of carbon monoxide emissions by three percent, thus complying with the new EPA regulations."
"Best…plan…ever," said Comic Book Guy.
"I'll propose it to the mayor immediately," Skinner offered.
"The folks in the respiratory wing of Springfield Hospital will be pleased as punch to hear this," said Hibbert with a chuckle.
"Dungeons and Dragons at the store, tomorrow evening at seven," announced Comic Book Guy as the group disassembled.
While the others went their way, Lindsey held out a palm to stop Lisa. "I need to go, Ms. Neagle," said the girl. "My mom's waiting."
"She can wait a little longer," said the short-haired blonde in the power dress. "Lisa, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to spend third grade at Springfield Preparatory School?"
Lisa gasped with delight. "I'd love to! But my parents can't afford it."
"My company, Advanced Capital Enterprises, has experienced great success over the past fiscal year," Lindsey related. "We're so far in the black that I can afford to indulge in a few…personal projects."
"Like what?"
"Scholarships."
Hope began to trickle into Lisa's heart—hope she had never dared to entertain.
"Lisa, you're different from other eight-year-olds," Lindsey went on. "I knew it from the moment you challenged Mr. Burns' restructuring of the First Church of Springfield. I'm convinced that without you, Springfield would irradiate itself off the map. That's why I'm organizing a second-grade essay contest. The grand prize will be a full-year scholarship to Springfield Prep."
"An essay contest," Lisa mused. "What's the subject?"
"The same things we've been talking about in our meetings. What's wrong with Springfield, and how to fix it. You can't lose."
"Jesus, Mary, and Buddha," Lisa muttered silently. "My dreams are coming true."
The contest lasted two weeks, although Lisa finished her essay in only four days without being coached. Her friends' entries featured many humorous statements.
"To bring about equality between jocks and nerds, I propose that school athletics be abolished," wrote Martin.
"Springfield should become famous by inventing bubble gum that dissolves in your mouth," wrote Milhouse.
"Twins should get into the movies for half price," wrote Sherri and Terri.
"My teacher says I'm the class clown, but I don't have a red nose," wrote Ralph.
----
The centerpiece of Springfield Prep's front courtyard was a brazen fountain surrounded by marble cherubs. Well-trimmed rose hedges flanked the ivy-strewn brick walls surrounding the campus. To Lisa's eager, grateful eyes it was nirvana on Earth. She wondered how Springfield Elementary would survive and remain accredited without her. Would Francine find an unfortunate new girl to torment? Would Ralph be lonely?
Ralph. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Perhaps because near the end of the last school year, the boy had started bringing items from his father's evidence bins, such as a packet of anthrax spores, to show-and-tell. Or was it…something else? Like the love note he had written to Janey with his own ear wax?
"Hi, Lisa," called a little blond girl who was playing hopscotch.
"Greta!" Lisa exclaimed, thrilled to see her good friend. The daughter of action movie star Rainier Wolfcastle had often invited her and Bart to events at the family's mansion, and they had shared some intimate moments.
----
"I have something to tell you," Lisa whispered to Greta, glancing aside to make sure the other pajama-clad girls were occupied elsewhere. "You've got to promise never to tell anyone else."
"I promise," Greta vowed.
Lisa leaned closer and breathed into her friend's bejeweled ear. "Bart wears two pairs of underpants."
----
"It's so good to see you again, Greta," said Lisa cheerfully.
"Lisa, this is my friend Ashleigh," said Greta, motioning toward a slender girl with curly red hair tied behind her head, and a tiny Chihuahua cradled in her bracelet-laden arms.
"Pleased to meet you," said Lisa politely. "What a cute little dog."
"Her name's Tinkerbell," said Ashleigh, who wore a gaudy green dress with thin straps. The little Mexican dog yawned.
"Tinkerbell?" Lisa mused. "Isn't that…"
"Yes," Ashleigh replied. "I named her after Paris Hilton's dog. She's hot."
"You like Paris Hilton?" said Lisa incredulously.
"Totalleigh," said Ashleigh, whose voice suddenly jumped in pitch and speed. "I've got, like, notebooks full of pictures of her, and posters all over my walls, and I've got, like, all her outfits, and I've even got a diamond tiara, it's fake, but you totalleigh can't tell if you, like, look at it from far away, and I wash my hair, like, three times a day, and I use complexion cream, and I wanna be just like Paris, and I don't mean because of the shopping and the partying and stuff, but because it's fun, plus there's, like, shopping and partying and stuff."
"Uh…" Lisa tried to interject.
"Look at this," said Ashleigh, opening a magazine she had drawn from her book bag while clutching Tinkerbell under her other arm. "It's Chanel's new line of girls' dresses."
"That's you," remarked Lisa, recognizing the young lady in the picture.
"Totalleigh. I'm hot."
"You're an attractive girl," said Lisa, "but frankly, I think you should seek out a better role model. Paris Hilton's just a rich snob who never did a day's honest work in her life."
"You're just jealous," said Ashleigh. "It's hot."
At a loss for what to say, Lisa grumbled under her breath and followed Greta toward the brownstone arch that made up the school entrance.
"I think Paris Hilton should be sent to Fallujah," she said bitterly. "That would be a true reality show."
"Ashleigh's only here because her parents inherited a mattress franchise," Greta told her. "But not all the girls are like her."
"Really?"
"Yeah. There's you, me…uh, you…"
"You already said me."
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