No Man Knows My Story

by "The Enduring Man-Child"

All standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 2

The hand snaked from under the cover and clumsily picked up the cell phone, knocking several action figures from the nightstand onto the floor in the process. This was altogether too early for anyone to be calling!

"Imperial Senator Bernilus. Speak, underling!"

"Larry?"

"Cousin?" Larry sat up at once. It was most unusual for Kim to call him. She generally avoided him as much as possible—not because she was ashamed of him or anything like that, but simply because she had absolutely nothing in common with him and had always found his company boring to the point of violating the Geneva Conventions.

"Larry, I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I need your help."

This was an interesting development.

Sure, Kim. Anything I can do to help you . . . save the world, right? Ask away!"

"Well, this isn't about saving the world," Kim confessed reluctantly, realizing that the disappointment was liable to dampen Larry's enthusiasm considerably. "It's about Ned . . . you know, the manager of the Middleton Bueno Nacho? He seems to have disappeared and nobody knows what's happened to him. It's really weird. I thought since you and he are sort of in the same circles," she hoped that didn't sound too patronizing, "that you might know where he is."

Larry did what he always did when faced with a conundrum of this sort. He picked his ear.

"Sorry, Cuz, but he was at the Robot Rumble last week, and he was at Nerd Nirvana"--the name of their comic book store hangout--"the last time I was there as well. This is the first I've heard of him being missing." He thought he could almost feel Kim's disappointment and . . . what was this . . . concern? . . . palpably through the cell phone. "But not to worry, I'll check with the landing party—um, I mean the gang—today and see if anyone has heard anything."

"Please and thank you! Oh, and, Larry . . . you really do rock! I'm sorry I haven't always appreciated you."

"Don't let it bother you, Cousin. One thing I learned long ago is that misunderstandings and lack of appreciation are common among different life forms."

This produced an uncertain silence on the other end of the conversation, followed by a protracted "Riiiiiiiight." And then, "Oh, by the way, Larry . . . how much do you know about Ned? Know where he lives? Or . . . um . . . what his last name is?"

Kim's blush at having to ask this question was as palpable as her earlier emotions had been. She realized there was something shameful in having to ask the last name of a person who was so much a part of her little world, however peripheral his place in it, and she feared Larry would judge her a typical popular snob, much too beautiful and important to take notice of someone as "lowly" as Ned. She had been ashamed enough when the words "out there, in here" had changed her life, and she had hoped that she was beyond such immature concepts of status as that.

In her loft bedroom she winced at the forthcoming rebuke.

It never came.

"Um . . . no, come to think of it, I don't. He's always been just plain 'Ned' to me." And apparently to everyone else too each thought.

"But . . . listen, you two are about the same age. Did he attend Middleton High when you did?" Her previous shame was forgotten, replaced by mystification. How could someone so familiar to everyone be so unknown to anyone?

"Let's see . . . yes, we attended Middleton High together. But I think he was a class or two ahead of me—I'm not sure which. We hung out together and talked comics and science fiction and stuff . . . but he never talked about his private life. So I never knew where he lived or what his last name was."

"What about when he graduated?" Kim asked. "I mean, even if you didn't attend his commencement ceremony, he's got to be listed in the class graduation photo and records."

"He didn't graduate, Kim," Larry answered, his own curiosity (and consternation at how much he didn't know) now piqued. I remember him being in the class a year or two ahead of mine, but when they graduated he wasn't there anymore. I don't know what happened and I've never asked him. Huh. Funny." Larry was by this time becoming as intrigued by this mystery as was his cousin.

"But he'll still be listed in the yearbooks for the years he attended!" Kim realized. "Just look him up in your old annuals!"

"Um . . . about that . . . er . . . Kim."

Kim knew she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

"I never bought a yearbook while I was in high school. Just wasn't into that sort of thing," he confessed.

The ensuing silence indicated that his cousin was not pleased.

"You . . . you never . . . bought a yearbook? Ever??"

"Um . . . no. Just like I never got a class ring. I just never went for that sort of thing."

Larry heard a series of incoherent sounds that indicated Kim was trying her best to understand such a thing. And she failed.

"Larry, I know you're a little . . . 'different,'" Kim said, trying her best to not lose her temper and not allow her current high opinion of her cousin to revert to its predecessor, "But fcol, everyone buys their high school yearbook!! It's how you remember . . . "

"Kim, please listen to me," Larry said with a most uncharacteristic authority and seriousness, "most people might like to remember their high school years, but believe me, for some of us, it's a period of our lives we'd just as soon forget. Our memories aren't so pleasant as yours."

"Oh, Larry . . . " Kim was sniffling now. Larry had never heard her so contrite. "Please forgive me. I should have known . . . I shouldn't have said . . . oh, stupid Kim! Stupid Kim!"

"Kim, stop it! Right now!" Kim realized that Larry was after all a couple years her senior, and a legal adult. The fact that she had for so long looked on him only as a strange overgrown kid only magnified her wonder at the authority in his voice.

"Stop putting yourself down! You're a good person—always have been. There are just different kinds of people, that's all. You're one kind, and Ned and I are another. Besides," he added, "I'm far more culpable than you are. Ned's my friend. I see him all the time. I should know this stuff about him—not you! So snap out of it!"

His tone wasn't angry or unkind, just commanding.

"Thanks, Larry. Sorry about that."

There was silence for just a moment.

"Listen, Cuz," Larry said after a while, "this whole 'sitch'—that's what you call it, right?—has got me spooked more than an invasion by undead zombie goblins from the Seventeenth Dimension. Tell you what let's do. I'll call Charlotte . . . "

"Charlotte? Who's Charlotte?"

"Um . . . never mind!" he spluttered, "You just let me get together with the gang and see what we can find out. I'm sure someone will have an annual. Meantime, why don't you call that computer guy of yours . . . Wade, right? I mean, he pretty much knows everything, right?"

"Yeah!" Kim exclaimed, "Duh! Why didn't I think of that before? Wade can hack the school records! We won't even have to look for an annual or anything! Thanks, Larry! As a certain foe of mine would say, 'you rock heavy!' As a matter of fact," she continued, "just don't worry about it. I'm sure Wade can solve the whole mystery in seconds. Sorry I woke you up! Well, bye!" And she was gone.

Larry just sat there, holding the cell phone that had abruptly clicked off on him.

Yeah, right he thought. Kim's computer guy will have the whole thing solved in a few seconds. No need for me to get out of bed now. Only . . . He realized that however much his help was unnecessary, he had to find out certain things on his own, for the sake of his own sanity. He hit the first (and only) number on his speed dial.

"Hello," a drowsy voice answered at last.

"Charlotte?"

"Larry?"

"Yeah. Listen, Charlotte, how much do you know about Ned? Skinny guy with glasses, hangs out at Nerd Nirvana and the Robot Rumble, manager of the Middleton Bueno Nacho? About our age, maybe a year or so older?"

"Um . . . all I know is what you've just said," the voice answered.

A most sour expression possessed Larry's features.

"Hello? You still there?"

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Listen Charlotte, do you have any annuals from your time at MHS?"

"Yeah. Sure. What kind of freak wouldn't buy a copy of their high school annual?" she asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Uh—yeah. Well anyway, I'll be at your place in twenty. Get out your old annuals. And if we can't find what we're looking for, we need to get to NN as soon as possible."

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

"I'll tell you when I get there. Later." And Larry cut Charlotte off as suddenly as Kim had cut him off.

"All right, Mr. Ned Whoever-You-Are, Mr. Man-of-Mystery! You may have eluded the rest of the world, but no way can you elude a twelfth level dungeon magus!"

And he was up.

Meanwhile, Kim had of course pushed the button on her Kimmunicator as soon as she had finished talking to her cousin.

"Listen Wade, we've got a first rate mystery going on here. I need you to—"

"Hello! I'm not here right now. As much as I enjoy staying in my room, obviously something earth-shattering must have happened! So leave just leave a message and I'll get back with you as soon as I have solved whatever crisis has arisen! Thank you!"

Kim just stared.

Her lip curled into an almost feral expression. Darn this! This was not going to beat her! She was Kim Possible! She could do anything! And that included solving the enigma known as Ned. She hit the first number on her speed dial.

"Mornin'! Mystical Monkey Master here! How may I help you?"

Even in the midst of all this Kim couldn't help but smile.

"Amp down, monkey man! You know that comic book store all the gee—um, I mean, all the enthusiasts hang out at? The one downtown?

"You mean Nerd Nirvana?" Ron wanted to know.

"I don't know!" she said, sounding more exasperated than she meant to. "All I know is it's the weird place Larry took me to on his birthday. You know the one?"

"I think so, KP. Why?"

"Ron—eat some breakfast and get your mission gear on! We're going down there to try to find out what happened to Ned!"

To be continued . . .