Back on the other side of town, Robot, Mitch, and Cubey had just arrived on the correct street, and it didn't take them more than a second to figure out which house was Clara's. She hadn't been kidding about the balloons on the PA, which were tied to the railings in two bunches of black and orange, so massive they practically eclipsed the view of the porch. But even without that particular indication of a party taking place, the boys could have figured out where to go, based on the numerous groups of middle schoolers heading inside. They formed a small line that disappeared being the balloons and were still coming: Dropping their bikes on the house's lawn, hopping out of their parents' and older sibling's cars, but mostly arriving on foot, like Robot and co. Some of the costumes weren't fit for anything but walking. Robot realized this when looking at a kid in a tall, faceless candy bar costume-too wide for a car, and too awkward for a bike. Said boy had arrived on skateboard instead, and got some hollers and 'whoop's upon his impressive entrance, but tripped on the stairs and did a face-plant on Clara's porch.
Robot was already starting to dead this. It was strange how the overwhelming crowds at Nob's yesterday hadn't really bothered him-aside from the anxiety of actually having to run the place for a day. But perhaps robotic programming had taken over then, and forced him to handle that situation logically.
With a party, there was nothing his basic programming could do for him. It was under Clara's control, not his. All he could do was thrust himself inside the biggest bash his processors had yet to experience, and try to stay calm. And it didn't help that he had four angry high schoolers coming later to worry about.
Cubey had exaggerated to the football players. By the looks of Clara's house from the outside, there would be no caviar or hot tubs. However, the house was pretty large, almost as big as that party house from last year with the dog that chased a trapped Cubey and Mitch around the yard. Just big enough to have its own reputation for being an awesome place for parties. But this was the first time Clara had ever hosted a totally open party-well, mostly. There were two of Polyneux's own junior football players casually sitting on the porch, casually talking with every group heading inside. This was probably to prevent randoms from overcrowding the place. Faceless sixth graders and kids from the elementary school trying to pass as middle schoolers.
The age-gate struck Robot as very hypocritical. If it weren't for the fact that her ex-boyfriend was a freshman now, Clara would probably welcome any willing high schoolers to her bash, even total nerds. Being older automatically earned you some level of respect, as far as Robot understood of teenage customs. Next year, Clara would be a freshman herself, and Robot knew with absolute certainty that any party she threw would not include 8th graders, not even the coolest of Polyneux's 7th grade class right now. Why did one year matter so much to these humans? Sure, it would be weird to have kindergarten age kids at a middle schooler party, even Robot could understand that. But not when the age difference was less than twelve months!
He wished he could ask Socks why things were this way. But even if he didn't know why they'd ditched him today, Robot didn't feel close enough to Socks right now to start probing him for explanations on social order the way he used to.
When it was their turn, Robot, Mitch, and Cubey approached the three steps leading up to Clara's wrap-around porch. The junior football players, leaning up against the house and dressed as a popular undead expression among students of Polyneux, were chuckling at what sounded like some joke they heard on a TV show when their eyes fell on the trio, and their smiles dropped. They pushed themselves off of the lemon yellow siding and folded their shredded sleeved arms, looking down on the shorter boys. "Password," the zombie on the left said.
Robot, Mitch, and Cubey exchanged confused expressions.
"Password?" Cubey repeated. "You gotta be kidding me! Clara said the party was open to everybody."

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Whatever Happened... to Robot Jones? Continued
FanfictionAKA "The Mystery of Andy Fields" on deviantArt Working off the established episodes, characters, and relationships, this story attempts to continue the adventures of the awkward, well meaning automaton and his band of outcast friends during their mi...