A haggard Dib stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. He shook his head at the sight of Gaz. It never ceased to amaze him how many things she could do while simultaneously playing her GameSlave. At the moment she was shoveling large spoonfuls of Choco-Sugar Nukes into her mouth while trouncing level 23.

Tiptoeing past her, Dib reached into the cupboard for the box of Nukes.

"I heard you like living." Gaz growled.

Sighing, Dib grabbed the BranGusto mix and dumped it in a bowl.

Gaz raised a brow as he sat across from her. "You're late, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your yearly evaluation, moron. They have them an hour before Skool, remember?"

Dib shot up from his chair and dashed to his room as Gaz smirked and reached level 24.

00…00…00…00…00…00…00…00…00…00…00…00

The bell rang. One thousand one hundred and one kids flooded through the doors, cheering and screaming. One dejected figure trudged through the doors, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

"Failure," Mrs. Bitters had sneered. "You'll never amount to anything, but we all knew that."

His evaluation had been grueling, his outcome depressing. What am I gonna tell Dad?

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Snapping his head up, he scanned the surrounding area. There! Just beyond the baseball field, a light was flashing. He checked his watch. I've got a few minutes. Dad doesn't care when I get home anyway. Tucking his books under his arm, he took off across the field toward the mysterious light.

Once across the field, he paused to catch his breath. He had a nagging sense of danger, but shoved it away. Who could hurt me? In broad daylight no less.

His half-formed smirk froze. He toppled to the ground, clutching his head in agony. As his world faded to black, he heard Zim's voice.

"Pit-i-ful hy-u-man."