Sorry for the long update, don't worry, I didn't die or get kidnapped by aliens. Although the idea of getting kidnapped by a certain tentacled mad scientist sounds good-okay, I'm not going to talk about my Ottophilia. Anyway, to the reviewers, whom I thank:

To K9 the First: Ooh, dude, I hope so!

To Agent Silver: Yup, clones. I guess having to do that college biology report on cloning really got to me. Oh yeah...did you check out "The Moment of My Greatness" yet? Not to put pressure on you or anything, I know you've been writing "My Valentine"...

To Moonjava: Hot dang, that has got to tie the record for shortest review ever! But I hope this story will be nice.

Now, to the story! Yeah, I know aboutthe title, I have an affinity with bad puns. And dramatic irony. So, for Pete's sake, read the story! Like what you read? Review it! Don't like what you read? Review it anyway and tell me why! Got a question? Go ahead and ask it! Now get to it!

Chapter 2: Assigned an Otto-biography

Ms. Weller looked at her English class over thick glasses. "I see all of you have done an exemplary job on your biographies," she said. "Please take your graded assignment as I pass it out to you."

She moved among the class, passing out the papers. Twelve-year-old Octavia Jones examined her paper, a biography of Marie Curie. She was pleased to see that she had received an A, and a note of "Excellent work—you have a lot of passion for your topic!"

Octavia pushed her paper to the side of the desk, making sure that Brittany Gibson, who had been her archrival since second grade, saw her grade.

Brittany Gibson also pushed her paper, a biography of Princess Diana, to the side. Octavia was dismayed to see that Brittany had also received an A. Octavia wrinkled her nose. Someday Ms. Weller was going to give one of them an A plus. Then they'd know which one was really the best.

Octavia then bent over her cell phone. She quickly text messaged her best friends, Daisy Gatsby and Jordan Nicholas. "Meet me at my house today," she typed.

"Okay," said Ms. Weller. "Who can tell me the difference between a biography and an autobiography?"

Octavia and Brittany shot their hands up exactly at the same time. Unfortunately, Ms. Weller called on Brittany.

"An autobiography," Brittany said, "is an essay or book a person writes about himself and his own life."

"His or her own life," Ms. Weller corrected. Octavia smirked at this. "But that is exactly right." Brittany smirked back at Octavia. "Now, your next assignment is to write an autobiography."

Dwayne Johnson raised his hand. "Uh…who are we writing about?"

Ms. Weller sighed. "Dwayne, what did Brittany just say? You must write an essay on your life."

Octavia smirked again. Dwayne was a blooming idiot thicker than a concussed baboon, but the girls all liked him because he looked like an adorable cross between Josh Hartnett and Ashton Kutcher. Conversely, Octavia had a super-genius level IQ, but looked quite ordinary, so the boys paid no attention to her. She reasoned that this was because the average junior high student could see better than they could think.

Alan Holmes, the class clown, raised his hand next. "So, that means we all have to write essays about Dwayne?"

"Very funny, Alan," groaned Ms. Weller. "Now, your essay is due two weeks from now. This should give you plenty of time to research your life."

Octavia raised her hand. "Exactly what do we have to write about ourselves?"

"It's impossible to say exactly," Ms. Weller told her. "Since no two people are the same, no two autobiographies are the same. Generally a person writes about the history of their family, their ancestry, and then move on to their birth, growth, and important events in their life. I want you to research yourselves as well as you can. Talk to your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, learn about how you developed."

"Developed?" a girl asked faintly, prompting several sniggers from the class. Octavia rolled her eyes.

"Get your minds out of the gutter," Ms. Weller snapped. "I'm talking about your growth, walking, talking. What your first words were, all that. What your goals are and how you're planning to achieve them. For example, what do you want to do with your life, Octavia?"

"I'm going to become a scientist and win the Nobel Prize." Octavia said confidently. Then, only half-jokingly, she said, "Then I'm going to take over the world. No seriously, just kidding. About taking over the world, I mean."

Brittany then turned to her best friend Heather Cannes. Speaking just loud enough for Octavia to hear, she said, "I should have no trouble writing my autobiography. When I was ten, I won Junior Miss Venice. And then I represented Venice in the Junior Cheerleading Championship. We won first place."

Octavia leaned over to Brittany. "I represented Venice in the National Science Fair and won second place. Then I got an award in the Young Scientist Program. How many times have you won anything that didn't involve showing off your T and A, Brittany?"

"At least I have some T and A, Geek Girl," snarled Brittany. A classroom catfight was avoided by the ringing of the class bell.

Octavia was glad she had lunch period next, so she could talk about this with her friends over soggy mystery meat stew.

"No need to worry, O," declared Daisy Gatsby. "It's your own life, you don't have to make anything up. Just write down everything that's happened to you."

"What's there to write?" asked Octavia. "I know I'm a science whiz and a super genius and all that, but nothing ever happens to me. Nothing interesting."

"You did that big science fair thing, right?"

"That only gets you so far." The mystery meat soup was hotter than a compressed nuclear reactor core. Octavia started cleaning her foggy sunglasses with the edge of her jacket.

"Well, write about your family," offered Jordan Nicholas.

"Helloooo, Jordan, where did you park your brain?" rebuked Daisy. "Octavia's adopted!"

"So?" retorted Jordan. "A whole bunch of famous people were adopted. Dave Thomas, Faith Hill, Superman…"

"Jordan, my mom and dad go catatonic when I ask them about my biological parents. Can we get off the subject?" asked Octavia.

Jordan rummaged through her backpack, drawing out a Spider-man comic book. Daisy groaned, but Octavia was relieved. Jordan could talk about her favorite comic book villain for hours.

"Jordan, you are hopeless," Daisy moaned. "How can you think a fat ugly mad scientist is hot? And he has that awful haircut and the stupid green suit."

"I'm attracted to frickin' evil geniuses, okay?" Jordan started thumbing through the comic.

"Octavia," implored Daisy, "please help our friend Jordan come to her senses."

"I mean, how many times did you drag us along to see Spider-man 2? " Octavia asked. She picked up the comic, and her insides gave a sudden lurch. However, she ignored the omen. "Well, he's not hot, per se, but you have to admit the idea of the four actuators is intriguing. I mean, they'd sure come in handy, outside the laboratory as well as in. I mean, the first thing I'd do if I had tentacles is to smack some intelligence into Brittany Gibson's head. Too bad it's only comic book fiction."

"Anyway, I've been having these weird dreams," Octavia said.

"Like the old one where you're a baby lying in a glass cage and scientists in lab coats are standing over you?" Daisy asked. "I heard of this website for dream interpretation. I'll go check that out."

"It's been recurring more often," Octavia said.

"It's puberty," Jordan advised.

"Jordan, you think everything has to do with puberty," Octavia pointed out.

Jordan was extremely smart, but she didn't look it: she had wavy blonde hair down to the small of her back and a beauty that plain brunette Octavia constantly envied. No one ever told dumb blonde jokes about Jordan.

"Well, it's a big deal. Your hormones are going crazy, your body and brain are changing, and your emotions are a wreck. Did you hear about Amy Clarkson in geography Friday? She burst into tears in the middle of class just because she didn't know the main exports of California. Puberty makes you do all kinds of things."

"Like crush on tentacled mad scientist supervillians?" asked Daisy.

"Shut up."

"Listen, guys, have your mothers been acting weird lately?" asked Octavia.

"Weirder than usual?" asked Daisy.

"Yeah, my mom's been acting all nervous, she keeps looking at me as if I'm going to explode or sprout extra arms or something. Like she's afraid of what she's going to see."

"It's puberty," Jordan said sagely. "My mom looks at me like that too. Our moms are just watching for the signs. Bad moods…acne…extra hair…breasts…menstruation…"

"Jordan!" Daisy squeaked. "You can't blame everything on puberty!"

"Just about," Jordan rejoined.

"So," Octavia said, "let's meet at my house. We'll sneak into the front door."

"Um," said Jordan, "don't you mean 'sneak in the back door'?"

"No, I got it right the first time. The hunky pool repairman's coming today. For the third time this week. I swear my mom plugs up the filter on purpose just so the repairman can come out and she can stand there with nothing but a towel on. So we can just sneak in and help each other with the autobiographies."