"Thanks to you, Molly's parents will have to spend fifty dollars for a new dress," Mr. Haney scolded D.W.
Molly's dress, $50, D.W. thought. Getting out of piano lessons, priceless.
The principal escorted her into the detention room, where a sleepy-eyed bulldog man sat with his legs over the teacher's desk and kept watch over a single student—Rattles.
"Take a seat," said Mr. Haney. "I want you to spend the next hour thinking about what you did."
D.W. chose a desk on the far end of the room, away from Rattles. The bully stared straight ahead with a scowl, and seemed to not notice her entrance.
All right, then, she thought as she sat down. Now I'll start thinking about what I did. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife. I squirted...oh, good grief! This is so boring, and I've only been here for five seconds!
She looked out the window. The kids were wandering home in different directions, some on foot, some by bicycle, and some on a school bus. Arthur, who happened to be standing next to Fern and Buster on the sidewalk, looked back at D.W. and frowned disapprovingly. D.W. responded by sticking out her tongue and thumbing her nose. Arthur turned the back of his head to her.
So much for that game, she thought, retracting her tongue. Now what do I do?
She glanced over at Rattles, who was cupping his chin in his hands and glaring at the cover of a Scare-Your-Pants-Off book. Wish I'd brought a book, she thought. I finally know how to read, and here I am stuck in detention without a book. This sucks in so many ways.
The man at the front of the room appeared on the verge of falling asleep. There's nothing else to do, thought D.W., so I'll go and tell Rattles how much I hate him.
With a self-assured grin, she hopped down from her desk and walked across the room to Rattles' side. Slipping into the desk next to him, she eyed him up and down, opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. He's already in a bad mood, she thought. I don't want to make it any worse.
"So," she said quietly, "do you like…stuff?"
Rattles shot her a look of impatience and weariness, then turned his eyes back to the book in his hands.
"Not a talker, eh?" said D.W. in a friendly tone.
Rattles finally broke his silence. "Did you do something wrong," he asked her, "or did Haney put you in here just to make me miserable?"
D.W. smiled proudly. "I did something wrong. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife."
Rattles' eyes widened. "You squirted Molly with mustard? And you're still alive?"
D.W. nodded.
"Molly's turned into such a wuss," said Rattles with a groan.
"Now I have to think of something bad to do tomorrow," said D.W. "Maybe you can help me."
"I'll tell you what you can do," said Rattles. Leaning over, he whispered a few words into D.W.'s ear.
The aardvark girl gave him a puzzled look. "I don't think I can bend my head back that far," she said innocently.
"Then how about this?" said Rattles, muttering a few more silent words to her.
"But I'd have to wipe it up afterwards," said D.W.
"Geez, you're no fun," grumbled Rattles.
D.W. thought for a moment, then asked the boy another question. "How do I get more than one day of detention?"
"Why do you want detention?" said Rattles incredulously.
"Because I've got piano lessons after school," D.W. replied, "and I don't want to go."
For a moment, Rattles' imagination floated back to a fateful day when he sat motionlessly in a chair, watching men and women in navy blue uniforms stroll back and forth. A radio was playing above his head: "We will now hear a recording of Rachmaninov's Third Piano Concerto, with Yefim Bronfman as soloist."
What came next was the most beautiful wave of sound he had ever heard. He was only five, yet the music swept his heart away. He wanted to bathe his soul in it forever…
His father emerged from a doorway, a distraught expression on his face. "Where's Mommy?" Rattles asked him.
The man wiped a tear from his cheek. "Mommy's not going home with us," he announced sadly.
Since then, whenever he had listened to a piece of sweet piano music, it had reminded him of one thing.
"Yeah," he said to D.W. "Yeah, I can help you."
"We're messengers of the Lord," said one of the Mormon missionaries. "We've come to your door with a message of hope and salvation."
Homer's eyes brightened. "Flanders is…dead?" he said hopefully.
"Er…" the other missionary began.
"Flanders is dead!" cheered Homer, pumping his fists. "Flanders is finally dead! WOO-HOO!"
"Homer, I'm right over here," said Ned Flanders from the other side of the fence.
"Stupid lying Mormons," groused Homer, slamming the door.
In the kitchen, Lisa had finished a batch of tofu paté, and Alan was helping her spread it onto celery sticks while Bart looked on from the table. "The best thing about it, "she remarked, "is that it's 100 vegetarian."
It's certainly not the smell, thought Alan.
"Here, try one," said Lisa, handing the boy a piece of celery with tofu filling.
The doorbell rang. "I sense a great disturbance in the Force," said Bart ominously.
Lisa hurried to answer it, leaving Alan holding the celery stick. "Here, you try it," he said, trying to hand it to Bart.
"No way, man," said Bart, waving his hand.
Alan then passed the celery stick to Santa's Little Helper, who whined and turned away his nose.
He heard Lisa's voice from the front door saying, "Hello, Principal Skinner." It's Lisa's principal, he thought. I'd better make myself scarce.
The next voice he heard sent a chill through his heart. "I'm looking for Alan Powers." Startled, he dropped the celery stick, which landed tofu-side down on the floor.
Lisa chuckled nervously. "Uh, there's no Alan Powers here. You must have the wrong, er, area code."
"I'd like to have a look around," said Skinner insistently.
"Uh, sure," said Lisa, following the principal. "I've got nothing to hide."
Alan, hiding behind the refrigerator, gasped when Bart suddenly blew his cover. "He's in here, Principal Skinner!"
"Bart!" cried Lisa in horror. "Uh, I mean, who are you talking about?"
Bart's pointing finger led Skinner directly to Alan's location. "Yes," said the principal with satisfaction. "From the placement of your ears, I'd say you're definitely the missing boy from Elwood City."
"What do you want?" Alan asked him.
"To help," the principal replied. "You want to go back to your family, don't you?"
"You don't understand," said Alan earnestly. "If my parents find me, they'll lock me up, just like they locked up my sister."
"Come with me," said Skinner, extending his hand. "We'll go to the police, and you can tell them…"
"Trust me, Mr. Skinner," said Alan, fiery determination in his eyes. "You don't want to get involved in this."
Skinner took a tentative step closer. "If you'll just let me…"
"I have powers!" Alan warned him. "I can destroy your mind with a thought!"
"He's telling the truth," said Lisa, just as Skinner lunged forward and caught the boy around the wrist.
"Let me go!" Alan cried, only to be dragged into the principal's firm grip.
"It's no use struggling," said Skinner to the wriggling lad. "I was a Green Beret in 'Nam."
"It's true," said Lisa, struck with an idea. "He saw so many of his Army buddies shot down like cattle…"
"Let go!" Alan cried. "I don't want to hurt you!"
"Then the Vietcong captured him," Lisa continued as anger started to wrench Skinner's face. "They tortured him for eighteen months solid."
"That's quite enough, Lisa," grumbled the principal.
"And when he finally returned to America," Lisa went on, "people spat on him and called him a traitor. People who should have hailed him as a hero…"
"Shut…up…Lisa," said Skinner through gritted teeth.
"What's the matter, Principal Skinner?" said Lisa playfully. "Are the memories too painful? Don't you wish you could forget them?"
"Yes!" exclaimed the principal. "I'd give anything just to forget!"
Alan, bound tightly by Skinner's arms, stood still and grinned. "Your wish is granted."
Gazing into the principal's mind, he deftly wiped clean the memories of Vietnam, leaving the others intact.
After a moment's pause, Skinner relaxed his hold on Alan and lifted his hands to his temples. A new light seemed to shine from his eyes.
"It's…it's like I was never there," he whispered in awe. Alan and Lisa exchanged looks of relief.
Skinner slowly backed away, the sight of Alan filling him with both fear and reverence. His mouth remained frozen in a gaping position as he shuffled out of the Simpson house.
Minutes later, he drove up to his mother's house and walked inside. "Seymour!" an acerbic voice called to him from the second floor. "You still have some of that Krabappel woman's underwear in your dresser! Can't you give her up and move on? There are plenty of good women in Springfield, if you'll just get your useless butt out of your room and into the hair salon. That's where the best ones hang out."
"Put a sock in it, Mother," said Skinner confidently.
to be continued
(A/N: I have indeed watched the Firefly series, and I'm looking forward to the movie Serenity.)