Whatever Happened... to Robot Jones? Continued

Chapter 3: The Phantom Prankster

Robot jolted as a hand came smashing down on his back. "ROBOT DUDE! TWO AND A HALF DAY WEEKEND!"

The automaton's head whipped around to find Socks Morton practically hopping up and down behind him. "Er... Yes, I heard."

Half the buses were already taking off by the time Robot and and Socks had reached the back of the school. They were paused at the top of the stairs, watching other jacketed kids shout and curse as they cold wind cut at the exposed skin on their hands and faces. Filing out the doors in packs of twos and threes, it might be assumed that most of these kids had decided to ditch the bus and go hang out somewhere unbeknownst to their parents instead of be taken home. It was exactly what Socks had in mind, anyway. "You're not getting on the bus, are you?"

"Why not?" asked Robot.

"Because it's a FREE day!" Socks shouted. "When was the last time we got one of these?"

Robot pondered. "Hm... none recently that I can recall."

"Then come on," Socks said, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the stairs, cutting in front of some peeved-off girls and heading across the parking lot. "Let's find Mitch and Cubey-this is so awesome."

Robot allowed the enthusiastic human to drag him across the lot, finding it hard for his feet to keep up with the spastic human's pull. "But shouldn't we return home to our parents to alert them as to what happened?" Robot asked.

"That's the fun of it, Robot: They don't KNOW we have the day off. We could do anything as long as we're back by 3 o'clock."

Socks dragged Robot around the front of the school, to see Mitch and Cubey sitting on the stairs by the front, along with other groups of kids waiting for their friends. "There you guys are!" Cubey said.

"Weren't we lucky on this supposedly 'luck'-less day?" Mitch asked with a grin.

"You got that right," Socks replied. "Arcade?"

"You know it," Cubey said with a thumbs up.

"You dweebs still go to that dump?" said a voice from behind them. The boys turned and saw a tall, black jacketed kid with curly brown hair leaning against the rail to the main entrance, a lit cigarette in his hands. "Ain't you, like, eighth graders now?"

"Technically speaking, yes," Robot explained. "And uh, I believe there is a rule against lighting a cigarette within 500 yards of a school zone."

"What's it to you, Steve?" Mitch said, arms crossed. All the boys had grown significantly less dazzled by the wiser wonder known as 'Steve the Stall Man', once he was ordered to repeat the eighth grade due to so many class absences. But while Socks and Cubey were still intimidated by the Polyneux legend, Mitch was the only one who had the courage to talk back to him. "It's not like you even got past the first level of The Mushroom Master."

Steve flicked his long bangs out of his eyes. "That's because I had better things to do than hang out in a dark, lonely place with nothing but stupid machines for company." Steve turned his head to Robot. "Nothin' personal."

"Oh yeah? Because the first floor bathroom sounds nothing like that," Mitch countered.

"I bet you guys don't even know what a diaphragm is, yet," Steve said.

"You mean those charts they use in math class?" asked Socks.

Robot shook his head somberly, the weight of the unpleasant knowledge on his face. "No, that is a diagram."

"Then what's he talking about?" asked Cubey.

Mitch leaned in and whispered in Cubey's ear. The short boy's face turned from intrigued to disgust in record time as Robot dished out the factual definition. "AH, SICK!"