Yay! New Chapter!

As always, please, excuse any grammar mistakes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim.

The school period, known as "lunch," had begun.

Tae and Carl offered to show Zim to their place of eating. Zim had tried Earth food before. While some triggered his gag reflex and even had him spewing vomit, others were quite tasty. Zim hoped the tastier treats awaited him in— as the two humans had referred to it— this "cafeteria."

This area of the school was quite roomier than the classrooms. Long, rectangular tables had been filed into lines.

Tae and Carl showed Zim to a station where he was meant to wash his hands. After watching the humans soap their hands and rinse them under the spurts of liquid, Zim moved to follow their actions. However, as soon as a drop of this transparent fluid, which Zim recognized as water, touched his skin, he felt a burning sensation seep into his hand. It was as if acid had penetrated his flesh. Screaming from the pain, Zim began running around frantically. "What is this?! The pain?! It burns!" he was shouting.

While in his panicked state of mind, Zim failed to notice a human woman in his path. He ran into her, accidentally shoving her into a bin where humans threw their disposable goods.

The students in the cafeteria burst into loud laughter, and the sound only grew in volume when the lady fell in her attempts to climb out, the bin rolling across the floor.

When she did manage to free herself from the bin's clutches, her gaze immediately dashed to Zim. Zim was not excellent at reading human expressions, but judging from the harsh glare that closely resembled his superiors on Irk, Zim assumed she was angry.

The lady wore a net atop her head, gloves over her hands, and a stained white sheet on her front. Her hair was a mix of orange and grey. Her earlobes sagged down from the weight of large loops that penetrated through them.

Would Zim be punished for his accidental offense? "I am sorry. I did not do this on purpose."

She smiled slowly, which was normally a sign of happiness. She did not appear happy, however. Rather, her grin was eerie and disturbing. Zim perceived black and yellow hues in her teeth. "I understand. We all get clumsy at times. But a word of warning, kid. I would be wary of the cafeteria food. You never know who might spit in it."

"That is helpful advice," Zim said, noting the underlying message.

As Zim returned to the hand-washing station of torture where the two humans, Tae and Carl, awaited him, he realized the pain had diminished into a barely noticeable sting. He would have to remember to avoid touching any more water.

Tae and Carl had been consumed by fits of laughter. They covered their mouth with their hands to muffle the noise while each grabbed a blue tray. Zim picked a tray, too. A stack of them was lying on the surface of the lengthy counter. Tae and Carl dragged their trays across it, their laughter now dieing into chuckles.

"You are majorly funny, Zim!" cried Carl.

Tae commented excitedly, "That was hilarious! Did you see that lunch lady's face?"

"My gut hurts from laughing so hard!"

Zim did not find the situation particularly funny. Perhaps the humans' sense of humor differed from the Irkens'.

Once the ladies behind the counter had dished ladles of food into the divided compartments of their trays, Zim followed the humans to a seat.

He sniffed the orange cylinders. Toxic.

The miniature green trees. Toxic.

The sandwich with a slab of dark meat in between the layers. Most definitely toxic.

The flat golden-brown circle with spots. It smelled safer than the others. Zim poked at it with his finger before taking a miniscule bite.

Tasty, Zim thought.

He recalled the lady's warning. If his food was indeed contaminated with human spit, would it affect his normal body functions? Would it poison him? He did not suspect so, but Zim waited to be careful. When his bowels remained sound, he delved into the rest of the snack. He felt the nutrients replenish his energy as he ate.

Zim began to observe his surroundings. Most of the students were sitting near other humans. However, he noticed that that annoyingly sensitive human boy, Dib, was alone. Was this an opportune chance to speak with him? It was not as though he was in the midst of other conversation.

Zim stood.

"Where are you going?" asked Tae with a mouth full of food.

"I need to speak to Dib."

"Why? You got beef with him already?"

Beef? As in cow meat? Did Zim misunderstand? What did he mean? Struggling to find the correct English words to reply here, Zim settled for, "It is not your concern."

"Jeez. He was just asking," said Carl, stuffing his face with the Earth sandwich. "But if I were you, I would stay away from Dib."

Zim inquired, "Why? Is he dangerous?"

"Nah. But he's definitely crazy."

"I think it runs in his family," said Tae. "His dad's a mad scientist and his sister's creepy."

"Interesting," Zim murmured to himself.

With this in mind, Zim told the humans, "I will only speak with him briefly," then continued to the table where Dib was sitting at. He heard Carl cry, "Don't say we I didn't warn you!" from behind.

Zim watched as Dib looked up from his food and, realizing Zim was approaching him, glared at the Irken.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

Zim was unaffected by his rigid tone. If this boy was trying to sound resentful and condescending, he was doing a poor job. Irkens were much more talented in that area, especially the higher-ups. "Our first meeting was bad. Let us reconcile." That last word did not roll off his tongue smoothly. He had trouble pronouncing it.

Dib must have heard his error because he said, "Your English needs work, Denmark."

"My name is Zim. I am from Denmark. It is a country."

"I know what Denmark is!" yelled Dib. He quieted when nearby classmates turned to stare at his outburst. "Haven't you ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Yes, but it is confusing when you are unfamiliar with the language." Zim plopped down in the seat across from Dib.

"What are you doing? Leave me alone!"

"Are you angry at me? Do you hate me? Do you wish I were dead?"

Dib gawked at him with a confused and annoyed face. "What? No! I'm not insane. I just don't like you. Why are you even asking me that? Weirdo."

"I apologize. Perhaps my questioning was too aggressive."

"Questioning? What? Am I on trial?"

"No." Zim tried a different tactic. "I want to apologize for possibly offending you before. It was not my intention."

"You embarrassed me, almost got me in trouble with the teacher, and now Chunk has it out for me! Your stupid apology doesn't make any of that go away!"

Had Zim possessed more self-control, he would have simply apologized once more for inconveniencing and seemingly endangering Dib. The entire point of this conversation was to eliminate any bitterness he held against Zim. Unfortunately, Zim was never one to restrain his thoughts. His banishment should have been an adequate lesson in teaching him to shut his mouth, but as one human phrase he remembered went, old habits die hard. "You are also at fault for these problems you are listing. In fact, you are mostly at fault."

"You were the one who wouldn't stop bothering me over that drawing!"

"And you were the one who decided drawing a picture meant to mock your superiors would not lead to disciplinary measures." Though, this exact same action was what had led to Zim's exile.

"You know something? When you talk, you sound like a robot." At Dib's own words, he gasped in a surge of revelation. "Wait a second. Maybe you are. When you touched the water from the sink, you screamed like you were in pain. Which would make sense if you were a robot because electricity short circuits when it's exposed to water!"

"I can assure you that I am not a robot," said Zim. He was nervous. Dib was wrong in his speculations, but those speculations showed that he suspected Zim was not human. That was a step too close to the truth.

"That's exactly what a robot would say!"

"You seem to spout of a lot of nonsense and come to unlikely conclusions. Is this what makes people think you are crazy?"

"I am not crazy!" he shouted.

A passing teacher shushed him. "Keep it down, Dib! Insisting you are not crazy by yelling it, doesn't help your argument, anyway."

Dib rolled his eyes but complied.

Zim made another attempt at reconciliation, guiding the conversation into territory that did not question Zim's humanity. Or lack there of. "Dib, I am new here, and my English is not the best as I am from a different country. Let us be allies." What was the word for it here? "Friends."

"I don't need friends. Just like I don't need your pity. I am happy by myself. So no thanks."

"The psychology of the human mind is made for companionship. Solitude can make the average human crazy."

"Stop saying that word!"

"Which one? Crazy?"

"Yes, that one! I am not crazy. In fact, I am saner than everyone here."

The desperate look in his eyes did not do much to support his claim. "Let us converse. That is how friendships are usually formed."

"I don't want to converse!"

Zim ignored his protests. "Friends discuss things like hobbies, hopes, and dreams. Therefore, we should, too." He had to force this friendship somehow. He could not afford enemies this soon into the invasion.

With a groan, Dib threw his head back. "You're not leaving me alone, are you?"

"Eventually, I will have to. But for now, no."

"Fine. What do you like to do for fun?" asked Dib through gritted teeth. He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, nearly choking on it as he did so.

Zim considered Dib's inquiry.

Fun?

Zim had no time for such a frivolous concept. Though, he did enjoy his work.

Beginning with a casual tone, he said "I find interest in questioning the tyrannical actions of authoritarians who use the weak to achieve their stupid goals that contribute to the health and safety of no one other than themselves." By the end of Zim's response, he was scowling and clenching his fists in fury as he imagined crushing the Tallests.

Dib blinked. The food he had stabbed onto his fork slipped off the spikes, but he seemed too perturbed by Zim's answer to notice. "Anything else?"

"I also enjoy reading."

"I. . .do. . .to?" he said, slowly and strangely, phrasing it in the special way humans did when forming a question. He was not asking a question, however.

"That is good," commented Zim. "Reading increases intelligence."

"The more you talk, the more I'm convinced you're a robot."

"It is just because of my differing culture. Anyway, do you enjoy other things?" asked Zim, refusing to acknowledge Dib's allegations.

"Yeah, but everyone thinks I'm weird for it," he grumbled, jabbing at his food with his fork but not eating it.

"What is it?"

He seemed hesitant to say, but still, he did. "I like studying the supernatural."

"The supernatural?"

"You know. . .Ghosts. Monsters. Aliens."

Zim resisted his body's urge to jolt out of his seat.

Aliens?

He searched his brain for the meaning of this English word to confirm his fears.

Alien: a being from another planet.

From his research, Zim had found that many humans were not even of the belief that aliens existed. Dib, however, was clinging to the belief that they did. This was dangerous. If Zim were found out, he would lose his element of surprise.

Was Dib's mention of aliens to Zim a hint to him? Was he trying to inform Zim through subtle messaging that he had already discovered what he truly was? Or was this interest of his simply coincidental?

Dib continued on. "My dream is to capture an alien. Then, I'll be awarded a medal of honor for my discovery and be written in the history books. No one will call me crazy then. If anything, they'll fall over themselves apologizing."

"Hypothetically, what would happen to the alien? After you captured it."

"I would show it to my dad. Then, he and other scientists would probably dissect it."

"Dissect it?"

"Or maybe vivisect it?"

"What do those words mean?" Zim was unfamiliar with them. He hoped they meant to release, but he doubted it.

"I guess you're not as smart as everyone thinks you are," Dib snickered. At last, he had some sort of upper hand. "Dissect is when you cut up something that's dead to study it. And vivisect is the same thing, but whatever you're cutting up is alive."

Zim found himself blinking extremely quickly, nervous and fearful. "I see."

"Why are you doing that with your eyes?"

"No reason. Do you not think that this dream is wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"I am having trouble thinking of a word to describe what I mean. Inefficient? Impractical? Absurd? Surely, there are better ways to spend one's time than chasing after things that are not real."

Dib stared at Zim. Tense silence fell between them. Eventually, he spoke up again. "I was wrong when I called you a robot. You're not a robot. You're a clone!" he glared, pointing an accusatory finger in Zim's face. "A carbon copy of everyone else here. You're just like them. Well, I'll show you all! Just you wait! I'll capture an alien, and then we'll see who's crazy."

"I was only making an observation. Besides, is it not against human morals to torture something for research?"

"We would need to study aliens to prepare so that they don't take over the world."

Zim could understand this strategizing. However, he feared it as well. He was an alien with a mission to invade Earth, after all. And he was not keen on having his body cut up and examined.

He tried to sway Dib into believing alien races were nonexistent and that his efforts were futile. If he could succeed, Dib would not be as high of a concern. "If aliens are not real, then won't all your time have been wasted?"

"They are real!" he insisted.

"Where's your proof?"

"I'll have it someday!" He groaned in an eruption of frustration. "Just leave me alone! Better yet, leave my school! I don't know why you thought we could be friends! I don't make friends with people who think I'm insane!"

"Then, are you saying you consider me an enemy?"

He shrugged. "Sure, yeah. You're definitely not a friend, so yeah. I consider you an enemy."

Zim returned Dib's glare, standing slowly from the seat at the table. "Then, you have waged war."

Dib laughed. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. I'm so scared."

Zim walked away. As much as he hoped to avoid it, his first day of school had resulted in his first enemy.

Little did Dib know that Zim was an Irken. And Irkens did not take enemies nor war lightly.

Well, things have taken an ugly turn.

Wish Dib good luck. He has no idea what he is getting himself into.