“C’mon kids, get out your math books,” called Mrs. Rugg.

Some groaned, but others enthusiastically pulled out their hefty, neon green
math books bearing the the words “Holt Mathematics” in thick white letters. Along with these books, the classmates pulled out their Math journals, spiralbound notebooks filled with graph paper and bursting with arithmetic and ‘math doodles’. The class usually used slideshows for math, but there was a storm raging outside and the power was out. Suddenly, Sarah, one of the students, saw fit to call out.

“Energyyyy!” she called. Jacob quickly joined in.

“E-e-e-energy!”

The scene that followed was later referred to as “The Pineapple Incident.” However, that is a different story. After about ten minutes, Mrs. Rugg managed to take control of the situation again.

“Alright class, turn to page five hundred sixty seven,” she commanded. From there, the math lesson commenced as usual for all the students—save one.

Mira Williams had woken up that morning at seven o’ clock, hastily thrown on some fresh clothes, brushed her teeth and hair, and gulped down a cup of cocoa. After getting in the car, she remembered that her math was on the counter and ran to get it, only to find that her dog had chewed it into tiny pieces. After trying to salvage the situation by sticking the pieces together with Elmer’s Glue, because there didn’t seem to be any tape on hand, she jumped in the car and arrived at school just as the bell rang. She was utterly exhausted.

As the math lesson started, she noticed something strange about her math book. It was wiggling, pages, cover and all, as if trying to break free from some invisible trap. As she stared in disbelief, it began to wriggle free from its speckled book cover and crawl about on the desk, and the instant it shed its speckled skin it lunged towards Mira. It hit her in the stomach and she nearly cried out, but thought better of it. What if she was only imagining it? She would look like a fool. Besides, even if it was real, she didn’t want attention drawn to herself. Mrs. Rugg had already told her twice today to concentrate on the lesson, and she certainly didn’t want to get into any further trouble. So she grasped it in both hands and held it tight.

Making an agreeing nod as her classmates chanted an answer to a question she hadn’t heard at all, she attempted to stuff the book back into its cover. Sarah was giving her a funny look, but the book was below the top of the desk so it appeared that Mira was simply twitched sporadically at random intervals. She attempted to keep a straight face, which is difficult when you have a heavy math book clawing at you left and right.

The demonic entity had already given her enough paper cuts for a month, and she didn’t know if she could keep it contained much longer. She opened her desk as quietly as possible, keeping the monstrosity at bay with one hand, and grabbed the first thing she could find, which happened to be a gel pen. She stabbed the book with all the force she could muster, and it began to bleed ink and make an awful gurgling sound which sounded rather like someone chanting pi while drowning. While it was occupied thus, she stuffed the creature into the book cover. Having bought herself some time, she rummaged around her desk for a safety pin and pinned the book to its respective cover. Glancing at Sarah’s book, she turned to the correct page and gave sigh of relief.

“All right, Mira, what should we replace the variable x with?” asked Mrs. Rugg.

Mira didn’t know the lesson at all, much less the problem.

“Err, can you repeat the question?” she said as innocently as possible.

“Were you listening at all?”

Mira hung her head in shame.

“All right, Mira, remember your goal, and don’t let me catch you daydreaming in class again. Okay, get paintbrushes from the counter, class, we’re painting out model volcanoes,” she said.

Mira only sighed and chose a paintbrush with a particularly pointy end.

In my youth, I thought one dated members of the opposite sex to learn more about them, and find whether they’d be an appropriate long term mate.

When I got older (and wiser?), I realized that dating was more about learning about yourself, and one kind of person might be an appropriate mate for you.

The difference is that with the first mindset, there’s no point in going out with somebody who you can eliminate as an inappropriate match, but with the second, different kinds of people have lots of things to teach you, especially about yourself.

I guess it seemed intuitively obvious that I already knew all there was about myself.  Obvious, but wrong.

So, to the young:  Date lots of people!

Mira won her school spelling bee some weeks ago (Lyra Meadow came in third).  Now she’s passed another hurdle, advancing to the California Central Valley Championships.  If she wins that, she’ll go to DC.

She advanced by correctly spelling “waterzooi.”

I ran as fast as I could over the hills of snow. I had lost my jolly along with my corncob pipe, and my happiness had cracked in two with my button nose.  The silk hat that was necessary for life was securely glued to my head with slush.

I ran for cover, then looked up, shading my eyes made of coal from the day’s hot sun. To my right were several rice fields.  The water was covered with a thin sheet of ice, so I darted over.  When I jumped in the water, I could feel a protective shield of ice freeze over me.

I leaped out of the water and kept running.  During my travels, I had heard of a place where it was almost always cold: The North Pole.  However, I needed to get somewhere cold fast, so instead of north, I headed east to the Sierra Nevada. I hoped to find a chilly cave to live in.  However, right then, all I needed was to stay firm.

I thumpety thump thumped toward the rising sun. Someday, I would be safe.  I had to.

–Mira Williams

Lyra Meadow had to write an essay on perseverance:

Perseverance is a quality that I admire, though I find it difficult to use.  In movies, people tend to say to never give up, even though I usually try again later.  I am actually using perseverance now, because I am growing a callus writing a paragraph I don’t even want to write.  I am wasting time I could be using reading, but I am still writing. I was not quitting. Thank you for reading this, but now my hand is too sore and my callus is too big.  My perseverance must stop.

Snarky kid.

Poovalanche — the result of a serious shit storm.

Vomirrhea — something you don’t want to smell.

WUMP. And another one hit the ground.

“Come quick! Sadana has it too!” shouted a female voice.

The whole class got up to go see what was going on. They clustered around the girl who had just hit the ground.

“Excuse me,” said Mrs. Rung, pushing through the circle of middle school children. She knelt down and felt the unconscious girl’s forehead. “Her fever is even worse than Stanley’s. Alan, Travis, come carry her to the office.”

Both of the boys had been gawking at the unconscious Sadana, and they reluctantly hefted her up, then dropped her on the ground.

“OOF!” they called out in unison. “She’s HEAVY!”

Mrs. Rung looked around. The class usually only had eleven kids, and Jake, Janet, and Stanley were already gone. Stanley had also collapsed from the strange illness that had infected the school, and Janet and Jake had helped carry him to the office. Nearly a quarter of the students had been sent home in just that day, all of them with the same symptoms: high fever, pale faces, and unconsciousness.

“Is there anyone else who will help them?” Mrs. Rung said in a pleading tone. “Recess is in five minutes and I have yard duty.”

Daniel stepped forward with a sigh and grabbed Sadana. The boys heaved her off the ground. Myrtle and Seriah had offered their help earlier, but weren’t strong enough to lift anyone, and Courtney had helped Cayley down to the office on her own. None of the ones who had left had come back.

“OW!” shouted Travis. He let go of Sadana’s arms and she landed with a thump.

“Careful, she’s a human being, you know!” scolded Mrs. Rung.

“She cut me!” protested Travis. He held up his hand, where there was a bleeding cut in the shape of a fingernail.

“Go get a band-aid,” Mrs. Rung replied wearily, as she got up to get an aspirin.

Suddenly, she screamed. Sadana’s eyes had opened. And they were blood red.

Everything happened in an instant. Sadana opened her eyes, reached out with a hand whose fingernails had grown into claws, and dug them into Mrs. Rung’s ankle. At the same time, Travis hit the ground. Myrtle screamed. Mrs. Rung screamed. Daniel screamed as Sadana’s other clawed hand left a bleeding scratch down his leg. Sadana stood up and looked around the classroom. Her eyes were filled with hatred and scorn. She smirked and chuckled, revealing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Mrs. Rung fainted, from either the disease or pure terror. Screams came from the direction of the office, then abruptly stopped. Sadana grinned. Myrtle was paralyzed with fear, but Seriah reached into her desk and pulled out the heaviest book she could find.

“No, Seriah!” Myrtle whispered. “It’s still Sadana. Maybe she can be cured.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Seriah, but she looked pretty worried herself. “I’m just gonna knock her out.”

But Sadana heard them. She growled savagely. Seriah raised both hands and smiled.

“It’s okay, Sadana,” she said in a slow, calm voice. “We’re not gonna-”

Without warning, she leaped forward and smashed Sadana on the head with th book. Sadana fell to the ground, but continued growling and scratching at Seriah. Myrtle pushed Seriah out of the way and threw a stapler at Sadana’s head, which knocked her out. Myrtle looked warily at all the sick people on the ground.

“We need to get to the lab. It’s secure,” said Myrtle.

Seriah nodded. The lab was both a science and a computer lab. It was built out of metal and also served as a safehouse during earthquakes.

Myrtle gasped. “Where’s Alan?” she exclaimed. “And Daniel?”

“Alan ran out the door while we weren’t looking, and Daniel’s on the floor. But he probably won’t be there long.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here!”

Seriah grabbed a dictionary and handed one to Myrtle. They stepped around the people lying on the ground and each grabbed an umbrella as a shield and weapon before hurrying out the door.

Sick kids were everywhere with blood red eyes, many of them their friends. Students and teachers lay unconscious on the ground. The path to the lab was completely filled with infected people.

“What should we do?” Myrtle whispered hopelessly.

“What we have to,” Seriah replied.

Myrtle nodded, then managed a smile. “Charge?”

And that’s just what they did.

The run to the lab was a flurry of fear and adrenaline. All around them was a fate worse than death, so they ran, whacking with dictionaries, shielding with instantly battered and beaten umbrellas. Several times a claw ripped through the umbrella, coming only inches away from their skin. But after what seemed like both forever and no time at all, they arrived at the metal door of the lab. Seriah flung it open as Myrtle held off the infected with her umbrella. They darted in and slammed the door and locked the deadbolt.

“We made it,” said Seriah with immense relief.

Myrtle looked up with pure horror. “I didn’t,” she replied, pointing to a bleeding mark on her leg. “Seriah, you’ll have to find a cure alone. I’ve got to get away before I transform. Good luck. ”

“I’ll need it,” said Seriah as she turned to the lab and started grabbing chemicals.

Myrtle gave her one last sad look, murmured a farewell, then flung herself out the door. It slammed shut behind her. A scream came through the door. Then, silence. Seriah winced.

“What just happened?” said a voice. Seriah spun around.

“Mr. Funger?” Seriah said with disbelief in her voice. “What are you doing here? And why were you quiet this whole time?”

“My entire class was sent home. We had a huge outbreak, so the principal sent me here to write alternative math tests. Then, I heard screaming from outside, so I called the police and hid.”

“Then why wasn’t the door locked?” said Seriah.

“Oh. Well, err…I suppose I forgot. I guess I just got lucky and none of them tried the door.”

“You called the police?”

“Yes. But the man there was being attacked by something. He told me to stay hidden in a secure space, and he said something about pie.”

“Pie?” Seriah said. “There is some horrible epidemic that might wipe out humanity, and he was talking about pie? Wait a minute,” she said. “Maybe pie is the cure. Mr. Funger, do you have any pie?”

“I already tried that. I had some blueberry pie in my lunch, but throwing it at them didn’t help.”

Seriah was becoming hysterical.

“Well, what ELSE could it be?”

“Wait, I have an idea,” he replied. “Maybe he meant pi.”

“Well, of COURSE he meant pie! That’s what you just said!”

“No, no, I mean 3.14159 pi.”

“Oh,” Seriah replied simply. “But how could we cure them using that?”

“Well, maybe just hearing it will cure them. It’s worth a shot.”

Seriah nodded. Then, she opened the door. Hundreds of infected came swarming towards them.

“Three point one four one five nine!” called Mr. Funger.

“Nothing’s happening!” shouted Seriah above the roar of the infected. Seriah and Mr. Funger were having quite a time keeping them back with only torn umbrellas.

“Two six five three!” he called. This time the infected put their hands to their heads, but then kept coming. Mr. Funger went on and on. With each digit, they were weakened. They were having trouble, some reeling and falling down. But suddenly, Mr. Funger stopped.

“Keep going!” shouted Seriah.

“I don’t know any more!” Suddenly, a claw ripped through Mr. Funger’s umbrella and scratched his arm.

Seriah, at that moment, gave up hope. She didn’t know pi very well. There was only one more thing she could do.

“Et cetera!” she screamed. Silence. The infected stopped roaring, then fell to the ground. Seriah fainted. She woke up moments later to find that everyone was waking up. Nobody could remember being infected. Seriah began sobbing with joy. Everyone was saved.

Seriah found Myrtle, and they went to the computer lab to make a recording of pi. Mr. Funger drove them to a nearby news station, playing the recording full blast all the way. Once it was on TV and radio, they were able to tell the uninfected what to do. Eventually, everyone was cured, easy as… you know.

So I already mentioned my daughters’ response last year when I wanted to take them out of school for a week to go to Disneyland.  “We don’t want to miss school!”  Weirdos.

This year I didn’t give ‘em a choice.  We went.  It was fun.

When you go to Disneyland on a weekday during the school year (especially the fall), it’s fairly vacant.  We only waited in line for more than 15 minutes three times, and one of those was because the ride (the Roger Rabbit Car-Toon Spin) broke down.  We did every major ride at least once, and all the good ones 2-6 times.

Only a fool would pay as much to go to Disneyland as we did (it was $600 for the four of us for five day passes), but it was really fun.  And it was nice to take it at a leisurely pace — we could show up late, leave early, and take our time goofing around without feeling that we were wasting precious amusement minutes.

I think my new favorite ride is the Hollywood Tower Hotel/Tower of Terror.

Splash Mountain was pretty awesome, too, and we found that in the Single Rider line you can pretty much ride it all day long with no waiting in line.  You’ll probably be pretty drenched after a couple of passes, though.

We ate lunch at the Blue Bayou once, with a lovely table right on the water.  Outrageously expensive, but the jambalaya may have been even better than the famous Monte Cristo.

I’d like to be critical of all the fake scenery at Disneyland, but it’s so well done that it’s hard to complain.  It just feels like a great place to be, and who cares if it’s a sham?

During a conversation mocking animal psychics, my friend Guy brought up Rumpology, the practice of reading someone’s fortune by looking at their butt.

Yes, it’s real.  Complete bullshit, of course, like all psychic claptrap, but people really do read asses for a living.

We  hypothesized all sorts of useful information one could probably get from checking out a moon.  Possible readings might include, “You need to shower more often,” or “You should lay off the donuts.”

Mira had the best one, though:  “You have dandruff.”

We’re off to Los Angeles for a week, so probably no updates from me for a bit.  Wish us luck!