With only five more days of school left until summer vacation and a Jurassic level of confidence that I’d aced all of my finals, the last few days of the school year at Kirby Junior High were in major danger of becoming a global boredom event.
I should know; I’m a crime-solvin’ teen tyrannosaurus. They* call me Tyrannosaurus Detects!
It was a sunny day outside and Miss Gropple, my Civics teacher, was harshing my groove. I couldn’t wait to get outside and solve a mystery! Even better, I couldn’t wait until school was through for the summer and I got to spend six whole weeks at Shreddin’ University’s Summer Skate-cademy. That’s why I almost didn’t hear the static-y rasp of the overhead call my best pal, Mortimer “Mort” Frell, to the Vice Principal’s office!
Fast-forward to lunchtime. I found ol’ Mesozoic Mort sitting alone in the caf, sobbing into his mac and cheese.
“What’s got you down, bro?” I asked him.
After some more sputtering and sniffling, he looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes and sobbed, “Darn it all, Tyrannosaurus Detects! The Vice Principal just told me I have to go to summer school!”
“Dude!” I said. “That is not boss at all!” And it wasn’t. Was not boss. In the least. I felt mega-bad for Mort; we grew up across the street from one another, so it made total sense that we were awesome friends even though I was a rad dinosaur skateboarding teen detective and he was a spindly bespectacled asthmatic who played the viola. Mort wasn’t the kind to cheat – he was way too smart for that racket. I smelled a mystery with my tyrannosaurus nose.
“How can The Man force you to go to summer school, chum?” I demanded.
“The Vice Principal says I plagiarized my Spanish final! But I didn’t! I’m innocent!” he wailed, confirming my gnarly suspicions. It was time for a mystery, and I got so hardcore psyched that I spent five minutes rampaging through the halls and even ate Mr. Wendell, the custodian.
I really like mysteries.
TO BE CONTINUED!?
*Well, my parents call me ‘Aloysius’. Aloysius Thunder Lizard Timothy Brown.