A First Time For Everything
A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic
By Shvique

Chapter 5—Afternoon Revelations

Author's Note: Thanks to all my loyal readers who continue to read and enjoy this story and leave much-appreciated feedback. And special kudos to those particularly-astute readers who have picked up on the absolutely 100%-deliberate-and-intentional in-jokes & references (literary and otherwise) scattered here & there throughout. (Expect more of that...!)


Lunchtime arrived and at long last, Jenny's morning-class miseries were finally over. She still had her afternoon classes to endure, of course, but…well, she'd burn those bridges when she'd get to them, that was all. Right now, she had more pressing matters on her mind.

She walked quickly down the hall as close to a run as she dared, determined to arrive at the cafeteria extra early. If she was lucky, she'd be able to intercept Sheldon along the way or perhaps meet him at the cafeteria-entrance, before he'd had a chance to grab his lunch and sit down.

Maybe then, she thought hopefully, I can get him to sit with me and Brad today, instead of the gaming guys! Maybe then he'll start to relax and loosen up around me again! Like he used to!

It seemed a forlorn hope, and Jenny wasn't too optimistic about it, but…it could work, she believed, and it was certainly worth a try.

She reached the cafeteria and upon entering, saw immediately that Sheldon had somehow arrived ahead of her and was seated at his now-usual table with his fellow gamers, actively engaged in a lively conversation.

How the heck does he do it? She wondered. Oh well, no matter! I can still ask him to join me and Brad anyway. After all, what's the worst that can happen? That he'll say 'no'? Well then, I'll just ask him to sit with me another day, that's all. At least it'll be a start!

She took a few steps toward his table, then stopped, as doubts began to enter her mind.

For she now found herself pinned upon the multiple horns of a dilemma, borne of a new and growing fear within her. The fear was not that Sheldon would say 'no,' but rather, that he might say 'yes.' And then what?

Then the rest of the gaming guys would feel hurt and rejected that she didn't invite them over as well, and they'd probably end up thinking she was a creep and a goon for not asking them. She was perfectly willing to ask them, of course; they were, after all, her friends, too.

But…if all of them were to join her and Brad, then Brad would probably feel crowded, outnumbered and, most likely, bored by the conversation that would result. Jenny knew from experience that approximately 99% of their talk would consist of highly-detailed discussion and debate about the various aspects of their favorite role-playing game; a game in which Brad had clearly expressed absolutely zero interest. She knew, therefore, that within approximately five nanoseconds, Brad's eyes would probably glaze over and he'd be bored into an absolute stupor.

And not only would he be bored, he'd probably also feel greatly imposed-upon, if she'd invited the whole gang of gaming guys over to their table without at least asking him first.

So the more she thought about it, the less of a viable option it seemed to be. So what else could she do? Well, maybe she could ask the gaming guys if she could join them for lunch. That was an idea…and she felt sure they wouldn't mind; they'd always made her feel welcome in the past whenever she joined in their gaming-sessions at Legendary Warriors.

But…she quickly realized, if she did that, then Brad would feel abandoned, left there alone at the table they usually shared.

So that was definitely out of the question.

And finally…even if there was a way she could somehow get them all to sit together and somehow make it all work, there was still another problem remaining, and that was Sheldon himself.

For as she watched him now, seated happily among his friends, laughing and joking in his enthusiastic discourse upon a favorite subject, the others giving him their full, undivided attention, Jenny realized something: It was at such times as this, when Sheldon was among his friends, that he seemed to be back to his old smiling, cheerful, happy self. But whenever she came near him, his demeanor and attitude would quickly shift to the exact opposite.

She therefore knew that the moment she approached his table, and he took one look at her, the smile on his face would vanish in an instant, and his cheerful, laughing conversation would come to a grinding halt.

And Jenny knew that she just couldn't do that to him; she just couldn't.

Look at him! She thought, with a slow, wistful shake of her head. Just look at him! He's so happy…having such a nice time, sitting there with his friends…! I…I just can't throw cold water onto that happy, smiling face of his! I just can't! If I show up now, he'll look at me like I was an intruder or something! Unwanted and unwelcome…!

And so, slowly and reluctantly, Jenny turned, walked away and took her place in the bus-line. There, she selected the few items from the menu that were suitable for the diet of a teenaged robot, and placed them onto her tray, one by one. She picked up a can of Synthoil, a can of Cog-Aid, and a small container of nickel cadmium batteries (she actually preferred lithium-ion, but the school, as usual, was too cheap to provide them on the menu.) She then carried her tray over to her usual table, sat down and waited for Brad to join her.

While she waited, she continued to stare at Sheldon intently, wishing she could catch his eye for even a moment, so that she could smile and wave to him, just to show that she was still willing to be friendly, even if he wasn't. But instead, just as he'd been doing all week long, he continued to ignore her, almost as though he were deliberately avoiding looking in her direction.

Come on, Sheldon, come on! She silently pleaded. Look at me, for Jobs' sake! At least do that! Look over here! Look at me!

But no matter how much she silently pleaded, Sheldon's attention remained firmly focused on his friends, never once so much as glancing in her direction, almost as though he were afraid of catching a glimpse of her by accident.

She sighed, and her entire steel and titanium body slackened, as though all the nuts and bolts throughout her body had loosened simultaneously, and all her power reserves had drained right out of her.

Brad approached the table just then and sat down beside her. He immediately noticed her somber mood, which had clearly not improved since the morning. He studied her in silence as she moodily picked at the few items on her tray.

But he also remembered the vow he'd made earlier that day, to confront her once and for all and flat-out ask what was troubling her. Despite the inherent risks involved, it was nevertheless better than watching her continue to wallow in this ongoing depressive funk day after day, with no clear end in sight.

He swallowed, steeled his nerves, cleared his throat, and spoke.

"So…" he said, beginning with a casual air. "You wanna tell me about it?" He spoke quietly, but with his usual characteristic bluntness.

"Hmm?" Jenny looked up quickly, as though startled. "Tell you about what?"

"Come on," he said. "You know what I'm talking about. Whatever it is that's been bugging you for days now. I haven't said anything about it up to now, but…well, I know something's obviously bothering you. Today in particular."

"What makes you say that?" she countered evasively, avoiding the question.

"Well, for one thing, you've barely even touched your Synthoil. Or your Cog-Aid. And you haven't even touched your batteries at all. And usually whenever you do that, it's because something's bugging you."

She didn't answer, but only lowered her eyes.

"So…why don't you just tell me what it is? What's going on?" He paused. "I mean…other than the usual 'saving-the-world,' heavy-duty responsibility-load stuff, that is."

She raised her eyes to meet his, and regarded him with a curious look, which Brad couldn't quite read. For a brief moment, he almost regretted asking the question, hoping she wouldn't blow up at him as she'd done on past occasions, when he'd made similar inquiries.

But instead, she merely sighed. "Well…there is something…" She said, in a voice so soft and quiet, that Brad could barely hear it.

He set down his can of soda and gave her his full attention.

"All right," he said, slipping into his best 'supportive good friend' mode. "Let's hear it."

"Well…before I tell you…can I ask you a question?" she asked, her face grave. "A serious question?"

"Sure, Jenny." He did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "Ask away."

"I mean real serious."

"Sure. Serious question. Ready for it." By now, his reassuring smile was gone, replaced by a demeanor as grim as if he were confronted with a particularly vexing final-exam essay-question. "Shoot."

"How do you feel about me…as a person?"

He blinked in surprise. Was she kidding? No, she was serious, just as she'd said. Yet the answer seemed so absurdly obvious, that for a moment he almost laughed. "How do I feel about you?" he echoed, his face breaking into a relieved smile. "Oh, come on, Jenny!"

"No, no, I'm serious." She said, her face still grave. "I really want to know. How do you feel about me? I mean really feel about me? As a person. Would you say I'm basically a good person? One who's easy to get along with?"

"What, are you kidding or something?!" Brad exclaimed, his smile widening. "Of course you are! You're both a good person and someone who's fun and easy to get along with!" He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then went on. "I mean…yeah, sure, you get a little carried away sometimes and blow your top or whatever, but who doesn't?" He concluded with a nod. "But in general, I'd say, yeah, you're a good person."

"Well, would you say I'm someone who's easy to make friends with?"

Again, the answer seemed so obvious that Brad almost felt sure she must be joking, even though he knew she wasn't. "Well, of course you are!" he said, his face now beaming. "After all, look at you and me! We're best friends! We have been ever since the moment we first met! As a matter of fact," he paused, then went on in a softer, more meaningful tone. "As a matter of fact…I think I'd have to say you're just about the best friend I've got. I mean, you know that! And I know Tuck feels the same way about you, too. Believe me, you're the best friend we both have!"

Slowly, at length, she nodded, finally accepting his answer. "Yeah…yeah, we are friends…aren't we?" She paused, then asked, "But…suppose…just suppose…" She dropped her voice very low, as though about to reveal a closely-guarded secret. "Suppose you found out that I…did something…bad. I mean real bad. Would we… still be friends then?"

Now Brad's smile faded for real. "Of course we would. I mean," He hesitated, then continued. "I'd be—well, depending on what you did, of course—I'd probably be…well, I'd be disappointed…but…I mean, yeah, we'd still be friends."

She regarded him soberly without a reply. I wonder, though…she thought as she looked into his eyes. If I ever hurt you the way I hurt Sheldon, I'm not so sure you'd forgive me…anymore than he did…!

"Why?" Brad finally queried. "Did you do something bad?"

Without a word, she nodded, then lowered her eyes and closed them.

"What…what did you do…?" he asked quietly. "Or should I even ask? I mean," he dropped his voice to a level barely above a whisper. "Just how bad are we talking about here?"

"Well…pretty bad." She spoke haltingly, her soft tone matching his in understated quality. Clearly, it wasn't a subject that was easy for her to talk about; the guilt and shame were still clearly evident in her voice. "Matter of fact…it's just about the worst thing I've ever done."

Brad hesitated before asking the next question. "Was it as bad as…that business with the Musique…?" he asked, choosing his words cautiously.

She winced before replying. "Worse." She whispered.

Brad swallowed, but otherwise tried his best not to react. "What…what was it?" he asked.

"Well, I—" she hesitated. "I—I don't want to go into details, but let's just say I—I was pretty mean to somebody, and I…treated them badly…I mean, really badly. And I—" She winced again, then concluded, her voice now barely audible. "I—I hurt them…I mean, really hurt them…" She shuddered, her eyes tightly shut, and shook her head, as though trying to erase the unpleasant memory of the incident. "It's…not something I'm proud of. Matter of fact…it's something I'm…" she hesitated. "Ashamed of. Terribly ashamed." She concluded.

Brad absorbed the revelation in utter silence. Then, softly, he said, "We're talking about Sheldon here…aren't we?"

She looked up at him, met his gaze for an instant, then lowered her eyes again and nodded.

"I…sort of had a feeling," he went on. "I didn't want to say anything, 'cuz I didn't want to interfere—at least, no more than I usually do, that is—but I had a feeling there was something going on between you two. And I won't ask for details either, 'cuz I don't want to make you angry at me again or anything—"

"You don't have to worry about that," she replied reassuringly. "I won't get mad or yell at you or anything, I promise. I'm over all of that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, at least," He went on. "But as for Sheldon, I know he was looking pretty miserable last week; Friday especially."

"Yeah…" she replied softly.

Brad looked at her. It was obvious there was still something more she wanted to say, but whatever it was, she had evidently found it impossible to speak aloud.

"Have you…you know, tried talking it over with him?" he asked. "You know; apologize for…whatever you did?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We did talk it over," she said. "We had a real long talk about it Friday night, in fact. And I did apologize. Several times! And I thought we made up. But now…now, I don't know. He acts like he's still angry at me or something." She paused. "I mean, not exactly angry, but just…cold…distant... Like he doesn't want to be near me or even talk to me anymore." She shrugged. "Lately, I can't get more than a few words out of him."

"And that's a bad thing?" he smiled.

"Brad, I'm serious!" she banged both fists onto the table a bit harder than she'd intended, immediately cracking its surface.

"All right, all right, I'm just kidding," He said, his hands raised as if in surrender, immediately shifting out of his 'cheering/up joking' gear and back into his best 'good, supportive best-friend' mode. "All kidding aside, I really wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you. I'm sure that…if he is still steamed at you or has hard feelings or whatever—for whatever reason—I'm sure he'll get over it. He always does. You know that. In a few days, I'm sure he'll be back to his old self, hanging around you night and day, constantly getting underfoot, generally making a nuisance of himself, just like he always has." He smiled, hoping to cheer her up, as he usually could.

But Jenny's reaction was an ever-so-brief frown, as though she were annoyed or irritated by his words. Her frown lasted for only a fleeting moment, but it was just long enough for Brad to notice.

"Yeah…yeah, that's what I thought, at first," she replied in a low, vaguely exasperated tone. "And that's what my mom said, too: 'Just be patient with him, and he'll get over it.' But this has been going on all week now, and I—" she stopped herself abruptly. "He just… He won't… He keeps looking at me like… Or not looking at me… Or else he… Or he doesn't…" She started and stopped her sentences several times, unable to find quite the right words to express the many conflicting thoughts and feelings simultaneously coursing through her positronic brain.

At last, she hung her head. "He…he's not even friendly to me anymore! Anytime I try to say 'hi' to him, he just turns into a real sourpuss! He gets all gloomy and sulky and just stands there like a wooden statue, and doesn't say anything to me! Then he rushes right off again like he can't wait to get away from me!" She sighed as she finished, then fell silent.

Brad looked over his shoulder at Sheldon, seated in the far corner with his fellow gaming enthusiasts. They all seemed to be talking and laughing together, with Sheldon taking a particularly active role, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, beaming widely the whole time. To any casual observer, the boys appeared to be pretty much the same as any other group of teenaged boys might appear when discussing sports or turboracers or other similar subjects. It so happened however, that this particular group's choice of interests consisted primarily of comic books, science-fiction movies and role-playing games.

"Well, he seems happy enough now. He looks just like his old self, in fact." Brad shrugged and turned his attention back to Jenny, just as Sheldon and his friends erupted in a burst of raucous laughter. "At least he doesn't look like he wants to go jump off a bridge or something anymore, like he did last week."

Jenny banged her fists onto the table again, striking it even harder this time. The crack in its surface widened and nearly split in two. "That's just it!" she exclaimed, betraying both her growing irritation and her accumulated pain from repeated rejection over the past week. "He's like that to everybody else, but not to me! At least…not anymore…not like he used to… Now…he acts like he can't even stand being around me anymore!"

With that, there came the sound of another burst of laughter from the corner table. Evidently, one of the boys had made a particularly amusing point or comment, and the resultant laughter from the others echoed even louder than before.

Jenny stole a quick glance in their direction. "I wonder what they're laughing at…" she muttered quietly as her features hardened into a slight frown. "I wonder what they're saying…" She paused, and her frown deepened. "I bet they're talking about me."

"Oh, come on, Jenny," Brad said. "Don't be getting all paranoid on me."

"I'm not getting paranoid!" she replied sulkily as she flashed him a brief, withering glare.

Brad averted his eyes, drew in a breath and slowly released it. The tension, just as it had earlier that morning, again seemed to be getting a bit high. He remained silent for another moment or two, then cautiously looked over at her again. "Well…um…is…is there anything I can do to help?" he offered in a conciliatory tone. "Anything at all? Want me to…" he hesitated. "Want me to…you know… maybe go over and have a talk with him? You know, explain things to him? Tell him how you feel?"

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, her momentary irritation now gone. "No…no, thanks," she said gently, apologetically.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, if he knew how you really feel, how it's really bothering you, then I bet he'd—"

"No!" she exclaimed more loudly than necessary, then immediately reigned in her volume. "I mean, I…I'd really rather you didn't. Okay?"

He simply looked at her. "Okay," he said, taken somewhat aback.

She went on. "This is something I just have to work out for myself. But…" she smiled weakly and patted his hand. "Thanks for the offer anyway. And thanks for listening. You're a true friend."

"Well…I try to be," he said with a simple shrug and also attempting a weak smile. Though it sure isn't easy sometimes! He thought.

Her weak smile faded as quickly as it appeared however, as she reflected upon the words she'd spoken just now. "A true friend," she'd called him, and so he was. And, she was sure, so he would always be. And yet…at the same time, she also found herself wondering if he would always remain "just a friend." Although there was no question in her mind but that he was her very-best friend in the whole world, a part of her had also wondered for quite some time if something more might one day develop between them. It was a wonder made up of equal parts curiosity and hope. But lately however, she began to have some doubts about that. Even though she was still sure that he would always be her best friend, the possibility of him ever being more than that to her now seemed very remote.

And yet, she couldn't even say exactly why…

She shook her head, dismissing the thought, at least for the time being, and focused her attention back onto her more-immediate concerns. "I guess what really bothers me is," she said. "I mean…what if he doesn't get over this? What if he doesn't ever go back to being friendly to me again?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will, eventually," Brad smiled encouragingly.

"But what if he doesn't? What if he's… What if I've…already…lost his friendship? For good?"

"Well…I really doubt that would ever happen," he said, still trying to sound reassuring. And yet, he couldn't ignore the doubtful look on her face. "Really," he added.

She lowered her eyes to the tabletop and sighed. "Well, the thing is…" she went on, speaking so softly that Brad could barely hear her over the ambient noise of the cafeteria. "I feel like maybe I already have…Or that I'm losing it right now…and there isn't a darned thing I can do about it…!"

Brad's jaw tightened reflexively, and he fell silent for a time. At length he replied, "Well, I…don't know. But…I mean…if that really is the case—and I'm not saying it is—but if that is the case, then…maybe it's a friendship that just…wasn't meant to be." He paused. "Some things in life can't be forced, you know, and I guess friendship is one of them."

For a brief moment, Brad almost regretted saying it out loud; yet something inside him told him that it had to be said.

"But what if it's not his fault?" Jenny queried softly. "What if it's…" She couldn't finish the thought, but her meaning was clear.

Brad sighed. He looked at Jenny, and felt utterly helpless. He hated to see his friends so at-odds with each other this way. He was the type of person who just naturally tried to get along with everyone, so conflicts such as this made him very uneasy. He therefore found himself at a complete loss in such situations, when it came to offering advice to others.

Yet there was one aspect of the situation that had troubled and puzzled him almost from the beginning, and he now felt the need to mention it.

"Well, um, Jen…don't take this the wrong way," he began tentatively. "I'm not trying to sound like a jerk here or anything, but…" he trailed off.

She turned to face him, her expression subtly hardened. "What?"

He hesitated, and could only respond with a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"You might as well say it," she said. "It can't be any worse than anything I've already thought myself."

"Well it's just that…" he hesitated again, then pressed on. "And remember, I mean this in the best possible way, all right? But…well…I mean, if Sheldon really, truly doesn't want to be friends with you anymore—and I'm not saying he doesn't, understand—but if he doesn't…" he hesitated again, then with an effort, he continued. "Well, I mean…does it really matter to you all that much? I mean, it's not like you really want him or need him or anything…do you?" His words were intended to sound helpful and encouraging, but it was clear from her reaction that they achieved the exact opposite effect. Even he now realized just how petty and backhanded they sounded when uttered aloud.

Nevertheless, he continued in this vein. "I mean, as far back as I can remember, you never seemed to like having him around him very much. In fact, it seems like you spent a lot of your time just trying to get away from him." He paused, choosing his next words very carefully. He was treading on very thin ice, he knew, and he had to proceed cautiously. "So…if he doesn't want to be around you anymore either, well then…doesn't it kind of solve the problem for you?"

She didn't answer; instead, she merely stared blankly at him, almost as though she couldn't quite grasp his meaning.

"I mean, without him getting in your way and being a nuisance all the time anymore, it's…well, it's no loss to you…right?" He gave his words an upbeat tone and smiled weakly at her, hoping to restore her former upbeat mood and formidable self-confidence. "Right?" he repeated.

Slowly, subtly, her expression began to alter, softening to something which Brad had never seen before, and couldn't quite decipher. She then turned her face away from him quickly.

"Wrong," she said. "That's not how I feel about him." She paused for another long moment, then added. "At least…not anymore… I mean, I used to feel sort of that way about him; you know, that I could do just fine without him, but now…now…" She formed circular motions in the air with her hands, as though trying to convey something for which words would not suffice. "Now…it's…it's different…"

Without a word, Brad regarded her with a look of complete, utter bewilderment.

She turned to face him. "What?" she said. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Brad shrugged and scratched the back of his head, as though to help stimulate his thought processes. "Well, it's just that… Well, I have to admit, I am a little surprised, that's all. I mean, from the way you always acted around him in the past, I didn't think you cared about him or could even stand him—"

"Yeah, well, I do!" she blurted it out so suddenly and so unexpectedly, that it took them both by surprise. "There! I said it! All right? Okay? Happy now?" She elaborated further, then stopped abruptly and hung her head.

It was the first time that Jenny had ever acknowledged it and stated it out loud for anyone else to hear, and the silence that followed was absolute. Within that eternity of silence, time seemed to stand still, as Brad absorbed the full meaning of her words, and now regretted having opened this particular can of worms by pursuing this entire line of questioning in the first place.

And yet, he supposed, it was bound to all come out into the open anyway, sooner or later.

When at last he found his voice, he replied with a simple, quiet, "Oh…" and a nod, his eyebrows raised. "Okay…." He went on, haltingly. "I just…didn't know… I guess I just never realized…"

"Yeah…well…now you know…" Jenny said in a low tone, never raising her eyes from the surface of the table.

After another long pause, Brad finally nodded in acceptance. "I understand." He said gently.

Jenny raised her head and looked at him. I wonder if you do… she thought. Because I'm not even sure I completely understand it myself!

She stared gloomily down into her can of Synthoil, fingering its brim with a steel fingertip. "I never thought I'd feel this way about him…never, ever in a million years," she said quietly, as though speaking solely to herself. "If anyone had ever told me only two years ago—or even two months ago!—that one day I'd feel like this about Sheldon Oswald Lee of all people, I'd have said they were crazy! And yet…" she shrugged. "Here I am." She sighed and shook her head. "Who ever would have thought it, right? But…" She raised her hands in a quick motion, as if surrendering to Fate. "There it is. It's a fact. I can't deny it. And the fact is that right now…I think I'd give just about anything to get him to…like me again… That's all… Just…like me again… Or at least…look at me once in awhile… And…and talk to me…the way he used to…" She lowered her head, shutting her eyes tightly and raised her clenched metal fists, resting them against the sides of her forehead.

"Well…um…" Brad offered. "Have…have you tried talking to him and telling him all this? You know; told him how you feel and everything?"

"Brad, I have tried!" Jenny exclaimed, banging her metal fists against the table again as she eyed him sharply. "Haven't you been paying attention? I've tried talking to him! But I can't get him to stand still long enough to listen to me! Or even when he does, I can't… I can't get him to respond or to…to…" She trailed off, as words once again failed her, her vocoder breaking with emotion.

"Okay, okay, take it easy…" Brad raised his hands, as if in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just—"

"Sorry," Jenny said. "I didn't mean to blow up at you like that. I know you're trying to help. It's just…Oh, I don't know what to do… This is so frustrating! It's driving me crazy…"

She stared down at her clenched metal fists before her. There she was, so strong, and yet she felt so utterly powerless at that moment. "What am I gonna do…?" She softly murmured to herself, over and over like a mantra. "What am I gonna do…?"

"Well…I'm sure you'll think of something," Brad offered in one final, near-futile attempt to be helpful.

"Yeah…sure…" she muttered glumly. "Simple, right? Easiest thing in the world. Just like gluing a busted teacup back together again…"

Brad blinked and stared at her. A busted teacup? He thought in utter perplexity. Now what the heck's she talking about?! She's drinking oil out of a can, for heaven's sake!

He shook his head, hoping desperately that his robotic friend didn't have a few screws jogged loose somewhere…

The pair continued the remainder of their meal in silence, he continuing to gag down his barely-digestible lunch, while she continued to sip disconsolately at her can of Synthoil, the Cog-Aid and batteries remaining untouched and forgotten. As she sipped, Brad's words continued to reverberate in her mind. 'A friendship that just wasn't meant to be'… And 'You can't force a friendship'… The words repeated over and over in her mind, like a program caught in an endless loop, and each time they repeated, they rankled her further.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and little by little, in small groups at a time, the students began to rise reluctantly from the lunch-tables, clearing their trays, and heading for the exit.

"Well," Brad said at last, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I still think you ought to at least try to talk to him again."

Jenny whipped her head around to face him severely.

"And I know you tried that already," he hastened to add before she could voice an objection. "But it wouldn't hurt to try again, would it? After all, if at the first fifty billion times you don't succeed, try, try again, right?" He smiled in what was intended to be an encouraging fashion.

Jenny stared hard at him for another long moment, then her features softened. "Maybe you're right. After all, what've I got to lose?"

"That's the spirit!" he said, his smile widening. "And look, he's just getting up from his table now. If you move fast, you can catch him."

"Where? I don't see him," she said, as she stood up and scanned the milling crowd. "Oh, wait, there he is. I see him now." It was at such times as this, she realized, that her extra several inches of height proved to be a distinct advantage to her.

She glanced down quickly to Brad. "Um…would you mind?" she said with a quick motion of her hand at her tray.

"Don't worry, I'm on it," he said, gathering up both trays and heading for the trash and recycle bins in the corner. "Good luck," he called to her.

"Thanks," she said, then turned on her heel and with swift, broad steps, headed for the exit. But the slow, thick crowd of students soon impeded her progress, making rapid passage for her virtually impossible.

Come on, come on, come on, you guys! She thought in silent frustration. Let's get a move on!

But the crowd continued to inch along at a maddeningly-slow pace

Sheldon, meanwhile, had been seated much closer to the exit, and with only a few quick steps, had now nearly reached its threshold and was about to slip through.

Cripes, he moves fast! Jenny thought. He's peeling out of here so fast, you'd think the devil was after him!

By the time she reached the exit herself, Sheldon had already slipped through it and out into the corridor beyond, and was now out of sight. She craned her head around the corridor, scanning to the left and right, eyeing all the side-corridors and passages along the main hall, trying to make a best-guess estimate of which direction he might have taken. But it was useless; Sheldon was nowhere to be seen, lost once again in the crowd.

In a desperate, last-ditch effort to try to find him, she fired up her rocket-jets. She had only risen above the floor by a few inches however, before she caught the intense glare of the smarmy hall-monitor. He zeroed in on her with an intense, laser-like gaze, and with a brief shake of the head, his hard scowl clearly conveyed the message: Uh-uh, Botgirl! Don't even think about it! And so, very reluctantly, she cooled her jets, settling gently back down onto the floor again, turned and headed toward her locker.

Maybe…maybe he's at his locker! She thought for one brief, hopeful moment, and hurried her pace. He might be! After all, his locker's right next to mine! If I can catch him there, then maybe I can get him to hang around and talk to me for a minutes! That's all I want! Just a few minutes!

But as soon as she rounded a corner and her locker came within view, she saw the disappointing truth. Sheldon was nowhere to be seen. Which meant that either he had already been there and had gone, or else he'd bypassed his locker entirely, choosing to head directly to class instead.

I should've known… She thought with a deep, disappointed sigh. With the way my luck's been going today, I should've known it'd be too much to hope for!

She approached her locker, opened it, and pulled out her binder and some textbooks. Then, with a final, lingering pause, she shut the locker, turned and slowly walked down the hall to her classes.


Sheldon strode jauntily down the hall, hastily arranging and re-arranging the textbooks under his arm as he walked. Some of his favorite subjects were coming up soon, and he was looking forward to them. Especially now that the school year was winding down and the material was getting more challenging, and for Sheldon, therefore more interesting.

He paused for a moment to take a quick drink from a drinking fountain. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Bernice in the passing crowd. His head bobbed right up with a big smile on his face, water dribbling down from the corner of his mouth.

"Hi, Bernice!" he called out cheerily with a hearty wave.

Bernice immediately stopped and turned at the call of her name. An equally-broad smile appeared upon her face the moment she spotted Sheldon. He trotted over to her, and as he approached, her cheeks began to blush, and she clutched her textbooks to her chest with a nervous giggle.

"Hi, Sheldon!" she replied, her eyes dropping demurely away for an instant, her blush deepening.

As Sheldon came nearer, he became a bit nervous, as he usually did around a girl—any girl—but with a Herculean effort, he managed to keep it somewhat under control.

"Um… How…how're you doing?" he asked, grinning sheepishly, but trying his best to sound casual and cool.

"Oh…I'm fine, I'm fine…" she replied, beaming up at him.

"That's good. Um…" he hesitated, and began to shift and shuffle his feet uneasily, the nervous grin never leaving his face. "Say, I was just thinking… Um… That is, I was wondering…do you like… Um…that is, do you think you might like…um…" He hemmed and hawed, paused for a moment to wipe his mouth, and Bernice clutched her textbooks tighter, strongly resisting the urge to giggle. She couldn't help it; he was just so darned cute in his own unique, adorkable way.

"Yes, Sheldon…?" she asked softly, the sweet smile on her face continuing to grow.

"Do you…um…do you…like…" he gulped loudly, then finished. "Do you like… Science Fiction…?"

Bernice blinked as though she were suddenly awakened from a dreamlike reverie, and her smile faltered, as the spell was broken. Science fiction?! She silently echoed. Where in the world did that come from? But she merely replied, "Oh, um…I dunno…I guess so…" She shrugged. "I never really thought about it that much, but…well, I guess it's okay. Why?"

Her tepid, near-indifferent reaction went entirely unnoticed by Sheldon. "Oh, well, I was just thinking," he said. "The next Trek Wars movie, The Attack of Hanni Jos Nor, is gonna be released in a couple of weeks, and I was wondering if maybe you might like to go see it…"

With me, he meant to add, but for some strange, mysterious reason, his throat went completely dry at that point, and his vocal-cords seized up at the precise instant he was about to utter the words.

"I think it's gonna be a really, really cool movie!" he went on quickly, his excited enthusiasm growing exponentially as he expounded upon the subject. "It's all about this evil conquering warlord, and the wicked queen he serves, the diabolical, tyrannical Queen Yakked Hen Lenten, and the path of wreckage and destruction and misery they leave behind as they set about conquering the galaxy! And the small but brave band of warriors, the Knights of Lucida, who set out to defeat them, and—"

"Oh, Trek Wars?" Bernice interjected with a vaguely sneering tone, cutting him short. The last remnants of a smile vanished from her face, replaced by a faint, but discernible expression of distaste. She shook her head. "Ehh…no, thanks. I'm not really into Trek Wars, to be honest."

"Oh… You're…you're not…?" Sheldon said in a wounded tone. Instantly, his face fell, and his entire posture seemed to wilt along with it.

"No. I'm much more into Larry Cotter!" Bernice said, breaking into a bashful grin, her blush returning to her round, freckled cheeks, and deepening to match the bright red of her hair.

"Larry Cotter?!" Sheldon's eyebrows shot up as he echoed the obscure name which held virtually no meaning for him.

"Yeah! You know! The series of fantasy novels! Larry Cotter, Adolescent Sorcerer!"

"Oh…" Sheldon replied, in a combination of vague recognition, no small bit of surprise, and a large portion of disappointment. "Oh…yeah…that… The kid-book series. I've heard of that. That…that's…nice…" His flat tone revealed a complete and utter lack of interest in the subject.

"Well, they're not just for children," Bernice politely corrected him, her smile fading slightly for only a moment. "They're very popular with older readers, too! Both teens and adults! Anyway, the next Larry Cotter movie is also coming out next month, Larry Cotter and the Philosopher's Gallstone, and I'd much rather see that! I read the original book when it first came out a few years ago, and it was soooooo awesome! I must've read it at least seventeen times! I've read all the Cotter books, not just Philosopher's Gallstone, and I've seen all the movies, too, and I've seen all the commercials and preview-trailers for this one, and I bet it's going to be the best Larry Cotter movie yet! I bet it'll be even better than For Want of a Necromancer's Toenail, and I really, really, really want to see it soooooooo bad!" Bernice continued to gush with an ever-growing level of excitement that matched Sheldon's own whenever he got started on one of his favorite subjects.

Sheldon, meanwhile, merely stood rock-still and absorbed her words in stony-faced silence, and he became aware of a sinking feeling forming deep in the pit of his stomach.

"I've also read a ton of Cotter fanfics too, and I've even written some of my own! Not to brag, but I think they're pretty good, if I do say so myself! If you'd like, maybe I can give you a couple dozen of my best stories to read, and see what you think of them!"

"No, no, that's really—" Sheldon began, raising a hand in a vain attempt to hold her off. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to go to all that trouble—"

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" Bernice beamed as she went on. "I'd love to do it! See, I've been trying to get more people to read my fanfics, but for some reason, everybody's really reluctant to even look at them. I don't know why. I mean, my fanfics aren't that long; they're only about four or five hundred pages each or so. And I really value your opinion, so I'd love to know what you think of them. See, my best friend Sharon totally ships Larry with Persephone, but personally, I think Sharon's nuts on that. In my opinion, I think Clothilda is a better match for Larry, and so I totally ship those two, and as for Persephone, I totally ship her with Bartholomew, 'cuz, well, you know, those two are both kinda sneaky and sinister, so in my opinion, that makes them a much better match, just totally made for each other, don't you think? And—OH!—I also totally ship Lady Seraphima with Professor Murgatroyd, even though both Sharon and Lynette think I'm the one who's nuts on that, but the thing is, all you have to do is go back and read chapter 20 of Larry Cotter and the Curse of the Warlock's Hallux, that scene in Grand Wizard Fortinblau's dungeon, where Seraphima and Murgatroyd are kinda…you know, looking at each other over the bubbling cauldron on the lava-pit, and you can just see they're totally liking each other, and were just totally crushing on each other and probably have been for centuries, I mean they're like practically breaking out in love-zits for each other at that point, and—"

On and on Bernice's lengthy discourse continued, and the longer it went on, the more the sinking feeling in Sheldon's stomach intensified. The more detail she went into about her favorite aspects of the stories, and the labyrinthine complexities of the various characters' interactions and relationships with one another, the less meaning any of it had for him, and before long, it all became just so much white-noise to him. He felt utterly and completely lost, disoriented, and ultimately bored by it all. So at the very first opportunity—which was a while in coming—he made one final attempt to re-direct the conversation back to the one subject which held some interest for him.

"Yeah, sure, the Larry Cotter film, why not? Might be fun," he managed to squeeze in at last, struggling to bring Bernice's lengthy discourse to some sort of conclusion. "But—but getting back to Trek Wars, see, if you were to just—"

"Oh yeah, that," Bernice said, her initial burst of enthusiasm vanishing in an instant. "Well, like I said, Trek Wars just never did anything for me. I mean, my dad's really into it, and he drags me to see all the movies whenever they come out, but…" She shrugged and shook her head. "Me? I just never saw the point of it all. All that running around and people shooting away at each other with ray-guns, and laser-sword duels, and spaceships chasing each other around and blasting away at each other, and stuff randomly blowing up with flashy videogame special effects, and all the shallow characters with dumb, silly dialog, and stories that don't make any sense, and…" She trailed off and shook her head again in summation. "I mean, I know those movies are real popular with a lot of people, but…I never understood why. I really don't get the appeal."

"Well, exactly which movies in the series did you see?" Sheldon asked, now beginning to bristle with a degree of irritation. "Some of them are better than others, you know!"

"Oh, gosh…I don't know…there are so many. They're all pretty much the same, aren't they? You've seen one, you've seen them all. They kind of all run together in my mind. That last one that came out about six months ago, my dad dragged me along to see that one..." she trailed off.

"And… you didn't like it…?" Sheldon asked, still not willing to believe that anyone couldn't.

"I was never so bored in all my life!" she exclaimed. "I mean, my dad really ate it up; he thought it was like the greatest movie ever, but it just bored me to tears. Just like all the rest of those movies. I was so bored in fact, that I nearly fell asleep right in the middle of it."

"Oh…" At last, the inarguable, painful reality penetrated Sheldon's consciousness, and his entire body seemed to deflate and sag in disappointment, like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon that had been suddenly and irreparably punctured.

Bernice belatedly noticed his reaction, and now regretted having expressed her opinion so bluntly. "But…you know, if you like it," she said in a gentler tone and a weak smile, trying to assuage his hurt feelings. "I…guess it's okay."

Sheldon perked up slightly, immediately began to rebuild his bruised ego, and decided to try a different line of approach. "Well, um…" he said. "You…you said you read the Larry Cotter books, but do you… Do you ever read anything else? Any other genres? Do you, for example…" he swallowed. "I mean, I know you don't like Trek Wars, I get that, but…have you ever read any other science fiction?" he asked. "Some of it you might really like, if you gave it a chance."

"Um…well, I've read a couple of short stories, but not a whole lot." She paused, finally picking up on Sheldon's hints. "Um…why? Are there any stories or authors you'd recommend?"

"Well, um…have you ever read The Demetrios Vortex, by Andrei Kobelkov, for example?"

"Hmmm…" She hummed thoughtfully, trying to recall the title. "Oh yes, I've heard of that." She smiled and nodded in recognition. "I've never read it, but the title's familiar. I've heard it's supposed to be really good."

"Oh, it is! It is!" Almost immediately, Sheldon felt renewed hope stirring within him. "It's kind of a philosophical, psychological, mystery thriller story, about this shadowy super genius scientist who persuades other great minds of the world to join him on an investigation of a strange, mysterious phenomenon, way out in an isolated, super-top-secret location in the middle of nowhere!"

"Oooooo, sounds really interesting!" Bernice replied, her curiosity piqued and her interest in the story beginning to grow.

"Oh, it is! It is! It's got a whole lot of good stuff in it!" he exclaimed with renewed enthusiasm. "It's got mystery, science fiction, romance, suspense, everything! And for about two-thirds of the story, you don't even know for sure if the super genius scientist is a hero or villain! And just…that and a whole lot of other things! The story really keeps you on the edge of your seat, right up to the very last pages!"

"Mmmm, sounds awesome!" Bernice giggled. "I'll definitely have to see if I can find it over at Farnes & Groble."

"Well, um…actually…" Sheldon paused with a sheepish grin, as he dropped his eyes and resumed shuffling his feet. "If…if you're really, really interested, and really think you'd like to read it, I'd…" he swallowed. "I'd…I'd be happy to…lend you my copy."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she smiled demurely.

"No, no, I'd be happy to. 'Cuz I'd like to know what you think of it. And—and then…you know, after you've had a chance to…read it, I thought…maybe we could…you know…talk about it…" Over lunch, he meant to say, but couldn't quite work up the nerve to utter the words aloud. "You know, tell me what you liked about it, what you didn't like, whatever."

"Yes…yes…I'd like that…!" Bernice nodded.

The two stood there in the hallway for endless long moments, smiling at each other, thoroughly oblivious to the passing tide of students around them, as though they were the only two teenagers on the face of the earth, interrupted only by the sound of the bell ringing.

"Oh, shoot!" Sheldon said. "I—I gotta get going now. But I'll remember to bring you my copy of that book, I promise!"

"Oh, that'd be great!" Bernice said, beaming. "Thank you!"

"See you!" Sheldon turned and with a final wave of his hand, trotted down the hall to his next class, his eyes still riveted on Bernice.

Bernice remained rooted to the spot, her eyes likewise remaining firmly locked upon Sheldon as he departed, until, after bumping into several other students along the way, he became lost in the crowd. She sighed, then slowly turned and also resumed her way to class, the sweet smile remaining on her round, red face.


"Good afternoon, class," the tall, distinguished woman with salt-and-pepper hair stood before the class, speaking in a soft but clear and commanding voice. "My name is Ms. Von Silver. Many of you know me as the librarian here at Tremorton High, but today, I've been asked to substitute for Ms. Haghfische's Literature classes. As you may have already heard by now, Ms. Haghfische has been taken ill with the Frugosian Flu, and will be absent for a few days."

Ahhhh, thank Jobs! Jenny thought in relief as she relaxed with a huge smile. It's a substitute! That means I can just coast right through class today! 'Cuz she won't be giving any lectures or calling on anyone to answer a lot of dumb questions or anything like that. At least, I don't think she will… Substitutes rarely bother with asking questions or giving pop-quizzes or any of that junk. Mostly they just take roll, assign silent reading or something, and then sit back the rest of the class-period and read the newspaper or do crossword puzzles something!

Like Jenny, most Tremorton students either welcomed or dreaded a substitute-teacher, as they regarded it as either the next-best thing to a day off from school, or the classroom equivalent of 40 miles' of bad road, depending upon the substitute-teacher in question. And although most of the students had never had Ms. Von Silver for a substitute before, a few of them did, and they generally remembered the experience as an overall pleasant and painless one.

However, it was not one in which they could expect to simply coast through or 'fake' or bluff their way through in any way. Although not a fully-accredited teacher, Ms. Von Silver was widely known to have read every single book in the school library, not only once, but several times, and consequently, was deemed eminently qualified to act as a substitute teacher for classes in literature. Moreover, she was also known to possess a vast, extensive knowledge on a wide variety of other subjects as well. One definitely had to be on one's toes when discussing almost any subject with her, as she was most assuredly not someone who was easy to fool.

"Now, I see by your course materials that you are studying…" Ms. Von Silver went on, pausing only momentarily to glance at some notes before her. "High Romantic Literature, and your reading-assignment for this semester is…" she paused a second time to consult the notes. "Ah yes, The Dueling Cavalier, by Alexis de Frontenac. Mmmmm, yes, I've read it many, many times." The librarian-turned-substitute teacher paused at that point, with a faint little smile on her face, as she recalled many fond memories of the story. "An excellent choice for a high school reading-assignment."

Uh-oh…! Immediately, Jenny felt the first stirrings of unease growing within her, aware for the first time of the possibility, however remote, that this substitute might be the type to ask questions after all.

"Now, I also see that you were assigned the book some months ago, shortly after the beginning of the semester." Ms. Von Silver went on. "Has anyone finished it yet?"

Oh, no…! Jenny thought, with an immediate, sinking sensation in her primary power-unit. Oh, no…! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! She is the type who's going to ask questions! I knew it! Ohhhhhh, cripes!

"Anyone? Anyone at all?" Ms. Von Silver searched the classroom hopefully, and although a few hands were raised here and there, she was met primarily by a sea of empty, blank stares.

"Has anyone gotten through…" she paused. "Three-quarters of the book?"

A couple more hands were raised, but no more.

"Half-way?"

One hand was raised.

"A quarter of the book?"

No hands were raised.

Inwardly, Ms. Von Silver sighed. "How many have at least started the book?"

Now nearly every hand was raised. But a few still remained resting in place in laps or on desktops.

Ms. Von Silver took mental note of these few students, and chose one at random.

"Mr. Fawnswater?" she called out to the mountainous student occupying a back-row seat a like a virtual Sentinel of Doom.

"Y-yes, Ms. Von Silver?" The enormous student said in a tiny, timid voice as he rose uneasily to his feet, the top of his head threatening to scrape the ceiling-tiles as he reached his full height. To look at him, one would think that there was nothing on the face of the earth that would frighten him; yet, the prospect of having to answer a question in class about a reading-assignment clearly terrified him.

"Mr. Fawnswater," the substitute repeated as she looked up at the gargantuan student with a steady, unwavering gaze. "It's been over three months since you've been given the assignment. Haven't you even started the book by now?"

"Well, um…you see, Ms. Von Silver," the student said, rubbing a massive, meaty hand against the back of his bucket-shaped head and thick, sweaty neck. "I…I tried to read it…honest, I did! But…I just couldn't get into it. All those big words and tricky names and long sentences just made my head hurt. I got all bogged down and I just couldn't get any farther."

"Well, how far did you get?" Ms. Von Silver asked, hopefully.

"Um…the…the first page…of the first chapter…" the mountainous student shrugged helplessly. "Or at least…halfway though the first page." He paused, then went on. "The first two paragraphs! And part of the third! Yeah…yeah I got that far! Almost three whole paragraphs!" He smiled proudly at his achievement, and nodded vigorously, hoping that his answer would satisfy the substitute.

Slowly, Ms. Von Silver closed her eyes, and with a deep, forlorn sigh, began to wonder whether Ms. Haghfische really truly was out sick with the flu, or if she had simply gotten fed-up with all the accumulated daily frustrations of teaching at Tremorton High, and had decided to take an unscheduled vacation simply for the sake of her mental health.

But…that was neither here nor there. She was there to serve as a substitute, not to pass judgment on anyone, so that was all she would concentrate on.

"Very well," she said, drawing a deep breath and striving to maintain her patience as well as a positive attitude—neither of which were easy under the circumstances. "Thank you, Mr. Fawnswater. You may sit down now." Slowly, the dinosaurian student settled back into his seat, causing both his chair and the floor beneath it to creak alarmingly under his weight in protest.

Ms Von Silver took another deep breath and decided to try a different approach, one which, she hoped, might encourage and incentivize the rest of the class. "Perhaps we should focus on those of you who have finished The Dueling Cavalier." She suggested. "Now then, of those who have finished the book, would anyone like to offer their thoughts and opinions of it?"

Ohhhhhh, I hope she doesn't call on me! Jenny thought, along with approximately 99.99% of the rest of the class. I really don't want to deal with this stuff now…! Not now…! I am so not in the mood for this now!

Ms Von Silver scanned the class hopefully, and the sea of empty faces stared blankly back at her.

"Anyone? Anyone at all?"

More blank stares.

Don't call on me! Don't call on me! Don't call on me! Jenny silently pleaded, in the cybernetic equivalent of a cold sweat.

"Ms. Wakeman," the substitute called out to the robotic student in the third row, one of the few members of the class, she noted, who had been among the few to actually complete the assignment.

Jenny cringed the moment she heard her name called. Ohhhhhhhhh, cripes…! she thought, wincing. She really didn't feel in the mood to discuss a book which held virtually no interest for her at the moment, but she also knew there that was no way she could back out now. She was on the spot and she knew it, with no hope of escape, no alternative but to stand and face the music. And so, with a deep, resigned sigh, she very reluctantly rose to her feet, determined to at least try to answer any questions that might be put to her.

"Yes, Ms. Von Silver?" she replied meekly, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

"Since you've had the opportunity to read the book in its entirety, and you've had sufficient time to think about it," Ms. Von Silver said. "Perhaps you might like to offer us your insights on it. For example, how would you characterize the relationships between the main characters of the story?"

Jenny stared blankly at Ms. Von Silver. "Characterize them?" She echoed the words with a brief shake of her head. "How do you mean? I…I'm not sure I understand the question,"

"Well, for example, who would you say is the primary antagonist of the story? You know; the 'villain,' so to speak. Who do you think provides the main conflict? Would you say it's the Viscount? Or Raoul? "

In the nanoseconds which followed, Jenny struggled to come up with a suitable response. Think…think…think…the single word command repeated through her positronic brain at lightning speed, searching desperately for an answer.

She was sure of one thing, however, and that was that there was no way she would repeat her embarrassing experience of earlier that morning, of having to admit in front of everyone that she didn't know the answer. So instead, she struggled to recall as many details of the story as she could, as well as her own impressions, reactions and emotional responses to it, in the hopes that they might inspire some ideas.

Fortunately, one idea came to her in a flash. "Well…if you ask me…" she said. "I'd say 'neither.'"

"Neither?" The substitute appeared puzzled by the response.

"That's right," Jenny confirmed. "I don't think either Raoul or the Viscount are the main source of conflict in the story. In my opinion, I think the main cause of all the trouble is Francoise herself."

"Really!" Ms. Von Silver said, her eyebrows raised, now quite surprised by the novelty of Jenny's answer. "Interesting… Would you care to explain that?"

"Well, I just mean that, although Francoise isn't strictly speaking an antagonist—I mean, not like the way you mean, she's not really a villain—but let's face it: she does seem to cause most of the trouble throughout the story, by acting like such a complete ninny and an airhead and a ditz all the time!"

A couple of stifled giggles sounded in the classroom in response to Jenny's choice of words, and she felt her self-confidence begin to grow. Hey, this is pretty easy! She thought with a growing smile. Maybe I can just keep winging it, coast right through this thing and somehow come through unscathed after all!

"I mean, there she is," she went on, the cadence of her speech increasing as the words came more easily to her, her thoughts firing through her mind at light speed velocity and uttered through her voder as rapidly as they occurred to her. "She's got all these guys constantly chasing after her, she's got her pick of all of them, and yet she kept acting like such a total ditz with all of them! Like the Viscount, for example! If Francoise had any sense, she should've told him to get lost and hit the road the first time she crossed paths with him! I mean, anybody could've seen right from Chapter Three that the guy was a creep and a louse, even with all his wealth and estates and his palaces and castles and all that stuff, and yet throughout most of the story, Francoise kept toying with him, leading him on, playing him against the other two guys, Pierre and Raoul, who—"

"Ah, very interesting," Ms. Von Silver tried to interject, to maintain some semblance of a dialog. "Now, about Francoise's rather complicated relationship to Pierre and Raoul—"

"I mean, there she goes again, constantly playing one against the other," Jenny went on without missing a beat, regarding Ms. Von Silver's words as only a minor, momentary distraction to be ignored. "Constantly playing Pierre against Raoul, Raoul against Pierre, and both of them against the Viscount, and then all three of them against Etienne later on when he showed up in the story, and of course that just caused even more trouble, and just…generally acting like a complete nincompoop to everybody all the time, and ooooo! That just made my oil boil! There were times I just wanted to punch her in the face! 'Cuz if she wasn't so stupid, if she had even an ounce of sense, she should've realized by Chapter 17 that Raoul was really the one for her! I mean, yeah, sure, both Pierre and Etienne were nice guys, but neither one was really right for her. Especially Etienne. I mean, he was only a minor character after all, let's face it. And yeah, sure, he was good-looking, but he was also dumb as a fence-post! So we all know he wasn't the one for her. Pierre was a good guy, a decent guy, the typical Romantic hero and all that jazz, but let's face it, he didn't really love Francoise; I mean, he didn't really, really love her,not the way she really wanted to be loved—although why she felt she had any right to be loved by anyone, I'll never know, not after the way she treated everybody!—but anyhow, it was obvious that Pierre would never be more than just a good friend to her, more like a brother than a boyfriend, and she should've realized that by chapter 12, like it was obvious to anybody following the story, when he started chasing around after Adele—"

"Now—now, you bring up an interesting point about Adele," Ms. Von Silver again struggled in vain to interject and regain some degree of control over the discussion. "So let's talk a bit about Pierre's relationship with her, and how it reflected the changing mores and attitudes of late Eighteenth Century Florin—"

But once again, Jenny's unstoppable 500-word-per-minute verbal express-train barreled right on over and past Ms. Von Silver's futile attempts at a dialog, ignoring the librarian/substitute's words as though they were nothing more than the faint buzz of a small, bothersome insect in the background. And as Jenny spoke, her voice grew in volume, passion and intensity, to a level which matched the rapidity of her words.

"I mean, Adele was another one!" she went on. "Pretty, but cripes, was she dumb! I mean, really dumb! Rock-stupid, in fact! Not a thought in her pretty little head throughout the entire story! Personally, I think Pierre was way too good for her, to be honest, but what do I know? I'm only a robot, but even I've got better sense than that! Still, she was the one Pierre really, really wanted, so if Francoise had any sense, then she should've seen that early on and done the right thing and just stepped aside. Just like she should've seen that Raoul was truly the one for her, the only one who really loved her, the only one who really cared about her, the only one who was totally devoted to her, and if she wasn't such a total emptyheaded ditz and a flake and a numbskull, then she would've seen that, and stopped treating him like dirt all the time the way she did! If only she'd read the signals, then he wouldn't have had to waste all that time and energy fighting all those stupid pointless duels over her to defend her honor and all that junk, until he finally made the mistake of tangling with the Viscount that one last time in chapter 20, and got skewered for his trouble! And, OH! I am so glad the author didn't kill off Raoul then, or I'd have been ticked! Really ticked! But the thing is, if Francoise didn't act like such a total ditz all the time, if she'd only given him a sign now and then, and shown him that she cared about him even just a little bit, then the whole stupid mess could've been avoided, and even by the end of the story, when it seemed like it might be too late, even then if she'd only given him a sign—just a teeny-weeny tiny little sign—that she was really, really, really sorry, and that all she wanted was for him to forgive her and give her another chance, that she'd make it all up to him! Then he'd know that she really does care about him and love him, and maybe he'd understand all that if only he'd at least talk to her once in awhile, if he wasn't always rushing around, always in a big, stupid hurry to get to another stupid class or something! If he'd only just stop and talk to her in the hallway once in awhile, or if they could at least get to talk on the phone once in awhile in the evening like they used to, or if he would at least answer her emails, or something, then maybe she could—"

Suddenly, Jenny realized too late what she was saying—that she had, in fact, already said too much—and her mouth clamped tightly shut. Her pupils contracted to tiny pinpoints, and the LEDs beneath her cheeks flared up in a bright, brilliant blue of an intense, embarrassed blush.

"Oops…!" the single word crept out of her vocoder in a tiny, barely-audible squeak. "I—I didn't mean…"

But it was already too late; the damage had been done. Too much had already been said for it to be so easily retracted. Silently, she scanned the classroom and saw before her a sea of stunned, silent faces all staring at her, mouths agape, absolutely astonished at what they'd just heard.

Among the stunned faces was Ms. Von Silver, who also stared open-mouthed at Jenny, utterly speechless over what had just transpired before her.

The absolute, dead silence lasted for only a moment, before tiny, agonizing ripples of laughter sounded here and there, tiny snickers at first, then growing and swelling in volume, until the entire classroom exploded into roars and tsunami-magnitude waves of raucous, jeering, mocking laughter.

Jenny's first impulse was to burst into tears. Her immediate next impulse was to hide under her desk, or to make a mad dash from the classroom. For a brief moment, she even felt as though she was about to spontaneously fall to pieces, her various component parts scattering all over the classroom floor. Yet even that would've been preferable to devastating roars of mocking, derisive laughter which she now had to endure.

But no escape was possible. She remained firmly rooted to the spot where she stood, as though bolted to the floor. And when the laughter had at last abated to a level where she could comfortably speak without having to shout, she concluded her lengthy, verbose discourse with a pitifully-feeble, "I…I mean, that's what I think…I mean, I guess that's what the story…um…means…" She floundered, her pitifully-small voice trailing off helplessly, immediately overwhelmed in the waves of laughter which resumed and grew once again in volume.

Fortunately, Ms. Von Silver at last recovered from her own stunned reaction and came to Jenny's rescue. She raised a hand, requesting silence.

"Quiet, please," she called out in a clear, firm voice as she addressed the class. "Please, class. Let's be respectful and have some quiet." When the laughter at last subsided, Ms. Von Silver addressed Jenny in a gentle, reassuring tone, "Well, um…I…I must say, that is…a very…interesting interpretation, Ms. Wakeman. It…certainly is a unique one. I…I don't believe anyone else has offered quite the same take on the story as you have." she paused, scrambling to come up with a dignified, graceful exit for the humiliated student who stood before her. "Perhaps…perhaps you might want to make that the subject of your term-paper?" she offered at last. "Yes…yes, I see from Ms. Haghfische's notes that you haven't submitted a subject for your paper yet. So perhaps you might want to consider using your…unique perspective on the story for your paper?" She paused, then concluded. "Yes…yes, that would be my recommendation: That you consider writing your term-paper on your…unique and most original interpretation of The Dueling Cavalier." She regarded Jenny with what was intended to be a reassuring smile and a nod. "Thank you, Ms. Wakeman. You may sit down now."

As instructed, Jenny resumed her seat, slumping down low until her chin rested on the desktop. She peered up and around the classroom, scarcely able to look at the smirking, mocking faces surrounding her, all thoroughly relishing this, her second, and even worse humiliation of the day. And this time, their mocking snickers and sneering, scornful facial expressions were accompanied by the most vicious and cruel remarks, each one more caustic and vitriolic than the one before; each one penetrating to the core of her Positronic soul like a high-powered, military-grade laser-beam.

She couldn't stand another picosecond of the mocking faces or the snide, derisive comments uttered in whispered but contemptuous tones, and before she'd even realized what she was doing, she re-configured her physical form into a large, comforting, turtle-like shell—a nervous response to which she sometimes resorted in times of great anxiety or stress. The shell completely enveloped and enclosed her, allowing her the approximation of some small degree of isolation and security, if only for the moment.

She shut her eyes tightly inside the comfort of her shell, wincing as the subdued titters and whispered comments continued to penetrate to her audio-sensors. She wished she could simply remain there, safely within the shell, and not have to face the mockery and the verbal barbs of the other students for the remainder of the day.

And at the moment, she was fully prepared to do just that: To simply remain inside the shell until the end of the day, the end of the school-year, the end of the world, or until she rusted away to nothing…or at least until the humiliation of the moment had died away, whichever came first.

She knew one fact for an absolute certainty however, and that was that there was no way she would ever…everever hear the end of this latest humiliation. Not in a hundred thousand million years. Or even longer. In fact, she was convinced that, even if the sun were to suddenly go nova one day, and the earth were fried to a cinder in the process, there would still be some form of life remaining somewhere in the universe to remind her, tease her and taunt her about the incident.

But, she realized, there was still one small saving grace, one tiny glimmer of good fortune to be found within the otherwise dismal circumstances, for which she considered herself eternally fortunate:

At least Sheldon hadn't been there to witness it. Or to hear every embarrassing word she'd said.

And yet, even as she pondered this pitifully-meager consolation, she also knew that it was only a matter of time before he'd hear about it.


End Chapter 5