Simone typed the numbers from the Nordgrens' identification cards into a console, waited a few seconds, then made a grim face. "I'm afraid these documents are invalid," she told the moose family.
"Invalid?" Mr. Nordgren blurted out angrily. "What the…"
"There has to be a mistake," said Jenny earnestly. "I was assigned to the Nordgrens by the PT administration, and I've been with them since their first moment on Orelob."
"Nonetheless, these ID cards are worthless," said Simone with detachment. "I'm required by law to confiscate them."
"But we need those cards!" Mrs. Nordgren protested. "We can't go anywhere without them!"
"That's not entirely accurate," said Simone, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You can go anywhere on the embassy grounds. You can arrange for passage to another Alliance planet. But you can't go back to Earth, and if you leave the embassy I'm required to report you to the police. It's sick, but that's the way it is."
"What are you saying?" Mr. Nordgren's pitch rose with his temper. "We can't return to Earth, and we can't leave the building?"
Jenny stepped forward, and anxiety filled her voice. "Call the Provision Theta head office," she urged Simone. "They'll clear up this misunderstanding."
"I certainly hope so," said the receptionist, reaching for her phone. "This is an embassy, not a hotel."
Tense seconds passed. While their parents fumed, George and Sal aimlessly explored the lobby. Among the attractions were several potted Earth palm trees. "This place is cool," Sal remarked. "It's like Florida, only indoors. I wish I could live in this house."
"We may have to," said George, glancing over his shoulder at the busy receptionist.
Simone lowered her communication device, and her wry frown indicated bad news. "The Provision Theta head office claims to have no involvement with Carl and Lena Nordgren from the planet Earth," she reported.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Nordgren felt that their spleens would burst from anger—but to their surprise, Jenny was even more incensed. "That's impossible!" she nearly shrieked. "I received my assignment from the administrator herself!"
"I just talked to the administrator," said Simone, tossing her cell phone in the alien girl's direction. "Would you like to take a whack?"
"Thank you, I will." With an unearthly grumble, Jenny dialed the number of the head office with her slim fingers.
"This is Provision Theta head administrator Glieph Lekbog," came a harsh voice.
"Glieph, this is Agent Ablikablukapelifrotz," said Jenny. "Tell the embassy receptionist who I am."
"I'm sorry," said Glieph innocently. "I don't know that name. Are you sure you pronounced it correctly?"
Enraged, Jenny slammed the phone closed and squeezed it almost to the point of shattering it. "How can she not acknowledge me?" she ranted. "I'd expect the Black Veil to pull this sort of trick, but not the PT."
The alien girl's consternation elicited feelings of concern in Mrs. Nordgren. "Is there anything we can do to help?" she inquired.
Still bitter, Jenny scowled at the moose woman. "You can stay put. I'll fix this, if I have to go all the way to the Grand Council."
The Kressidan girl marched through the sliding embassy doors, leaving the Nordgrens in confusion regarding their fate. "If you're hungry, we have a wide variety of Earth foods at our cafeteria," Simone told them.
Fern and Buster sat on opposite ends of the classroom for the rest of the school day. Buster dared not approach the heartbroken poodle girl; for that matter, he tried to avoid the other girls as well, for fear one of them might take advantage of his newfound availability. I swear, Beat has a thing for me, he often told himself.
He and Binky left the elementary school together, eager to spend the evening engrossed in their new hobby, studying. "I want to start by memorizing all the presidents," said Buster.
"Man, that is so third grade," said Binky. "I want to write a report on chemical weapons, just for the heck of it."
As they passed through the throng of students at the bottom of the stairway, they noticed that a few were giving them odd looks. "What do you suppose that's about?" said Buster.
"It's a good thing I've devoted the next three years to learning," said Binky, "or I'd clobber them."
Behind their backs, Arthur and Francine were debating the rumors they had heard. "They sure don't look gay," Arthur remarked. "They're not holding hands or anything."
"Yeah," said Francine, "but Buster's been going to Binky's place after school every day for the past three days, and I think that's where he's going now."
"We can't judge them yet," said Arthur. "Buster might just be going to the Sugar Bowl."
At the Prufrock house, Principal Haney was discussing with Prunella's parents his plans to drive their daughter and Sue Ellen to Minnesota and back. "You've given us no reason not to trust you, principal," said Mr. Prufrock.
"I consulted the spirits," added Mrs. Prufrock, "and they told me nothing, which is a positive sign about half of the time."
"Thank you both," said Mr. Haney as he rose. "I'll do my best to bring Prunella back in one piece."
A moment later the rat girl descended the stairway, hunched over due to the weight of her backpack. "I can't go anywhere without some salty snacks, a few changes of clothes, and some light reading," she told the principal.
"Well, it's not getting any earlier," said Mr. Haney to Prunella and Sue Ellen, whose countenances glowed with the anticipation of an exciting trip. "So let's make like a French aristocrat and head off."
"I don't get it," said Sue Ellen.
Very soon afterward, Mr. Haney drove away from Elwood City with Prunella strapped into the passenger seat, and Sue Ellen having agreed to take the first backseat shift. The first few miles passed in relative quiet—then the principal inserted a CD into the player.
"I hope you girls like The Carpenters," he said with glee.
Sue Ellen and Prunella groaned as Karen Carpenter's silky voice filled the '57 Chevy. "Are we there yet?" they asked in unison.
"No, sirree," replied Mr. Haney. "We've only just begun."
As they were passing the fifty-mile mark, a phone call came to the Powers home. Alan jumped up to answer it, but his mother was quicker. "If that's Buster, you're not talking to him," she said firmly.
"Stupid grudge," moaned Alan as he sat down again.
"What was that?" snapped his mother.
"Uh, I said, 'You be the judge'," Alan lied.
"Hello?" said Mrs. Powers into the receiver.
It wasn't Buster. "This is Officer Jones of the Elwood City Police Department," said a woman's voice. "I have some very troubling news that may be of concern to you."
"Troubling?" said Mrs. Powers, her voice quivering. "Is it about Tegan?"
"No, ma'am," replied Officer Jones. "It's about your friend Augusta Winslow. She's been murdered."
to be continued.