At six, Professor Hertz always shut herself in her office to correct homework, so that was when Jeremie struck. Her office was small and cluttered, with various objects taking up not just desk space, but any space imaginable. A lot of them wouldn't look out of place in an alchemist's lab; there were alembics, batteries, test tubes, sextants, oscillometers. The professor herself was behind her desk, consulting an enormous list of notes.

"Well, hello, Jeremie," she greeted, noticing him. "What brings you here at this hour? Are you having trouble with your research on cellular biology?"

He looked for a place to sit. He did not find it. Hoping she wouldn't mind, he chose a thick stack of Scientific American back-issues, which had been piled up in front of the desk, as a temporary chair. "Actually, no. I'm actually looking for information on the science teacher who was in residence here at Kadic before you. Franz Hopper."

Hertz's eyebrows rose over her paperwork. "Just out of casual indifference?"

She sounded disinterested, but Jeremie couldn't tell if it was genuine or forced. For a moment, he briefly wished he'd sent Odd here. Odd was better with people than he was. But he'd hoped his better grades in classes and status as 'teacher's pet' would win him some points with Hertz. "Not at all," he lied. "In the school library, I found a book by Professor Hopper, an introduction to the first principles of quantum mechanics…"

"...as applied to the field of informatics. Yes, I know it quite well. But it seems to me to be far too advanced for a boy of your age."

A faint alarm bell rung in Jeremie's mind. If Hertz knew that book 'quite well', did it mean she had an interest in quantum computing? Did she know Hopper built such a system in the nearby abandoned factory?

But no, that was a question for another day. Returning to his original line of inquiry, he said, "Professor Hopper piqued my curiosity. I mean, he was teaching here, in our school. Did you know him?"

"Yes...No. Somewhat. I began to teach at Kadic only after he vacated the position."

"But if I'm not mistaken about the timing, you were a lab assistant while he was here," he pressed. "You had to have worked with him for at least two years, correct?"

He'd pushed too hard. Lines of irritation were etching themselves into Professor Hertz's face. "Do you want to make this an interrogation? Yes, ten or so years ago I was an assistant in the chemistry lab, but Professor Hopper was not particularly interested in that subject. I met him twice at the most, no more. And that's all."

He nodded. He didn't buy it. But pursuing this would only provoke further defensive behavior, so he tried another front. "But do you know where he's gone, Professor? In 1994, he left the school, and it's like he disappeared completely-"

"Much as it displeases me, I know nothing about it," she interrupted. "Instead of obsessing over quantum physics, you would do better to concentrate on biology. Need I remind you that your work on cells is due tomorrow? You may leave."

Her dismissal was so curt, so complete, that Jeremie actually stumbled as he rose and left. He'd never had Professor Hertz address him in such a way. The reprimand stung.

He pushed the office door shut, but didn't close it all the way. Jeremie looked about. The corridor was deserted, no teachers in sight; it was about time for dinner, after all. Taking a deep breath, he pressed himself up against the wall and stood motionless, one ear turned towards the slightly open door.

Inside, he heard the professor let out a sigh. Things rustled. Then, there was the sound of a receiver being lifted and a number dialed. "Headmaster? It's Suzanne Hertz. Jeremie Belpois was just here, asking questions about Franz Hopper. Yes, thank you. I'll come over right away."

Jeremie turned and ran.

Lying on his bed in his dorm room, Odd gazed without seeing at the ceiling. His mind was daydreaming about those blue eyes. That sweet voice. That perfect cupid's-bow mouth turning up into a smile. "Oh Odd, you're so funny! And so svelte too. Not at all like the boys in America."

And then...he would respond with, "Well of course. I'm one of a kind! Much like yourself, I can tell."

And Eva would laugh, and-

Ugh, he had to stop thinking about her. It was driving him crazy. Odd sat up and cast about for a distraction; his eyes fell upon the textbook for French Literature, lying face-down on the floor. There was an exam tomorrow (an exam a week into term! Thanks so much, professor).

Studying? Well, why not? He snatched the book up. Kiwi, who had been gnawing on the cover, barked in protest at the theft of his snack.

"Hey, stop it, boy," Odd said. "I'll take you out later."

He flipped over to his required chapter. Okay, let's see...Stendhal was born in 1783, uh-huh...mother died when he was seven...discovered Italy and was inspired-well duh, we're great-then in 1802 he moved...met Eva Skinner...married Eva Skinner...began his work on 'Eva loves Odd'...

Well, this is going well.

Kiwi barked again.

"Oh, do me a favor and shut up!" Throwing the book aside angrily, Odd rose and stalked for the door. Studying was a bust, not that he ever liked it anyway. Maybe he'd go find Ulrich and-

Kiwi squeezed between his leg and the now-open door and darted down the hall.

"Kiwi! No!"

Barefoot, he ran into the corridor. Kiwi was rushing down the stairs. "Stop!" he yelled after him. If someone sees him, it'll be a disaster!

He made it downstairs just as Sissi opened the front door. With an excited bark, Kiwi shot between her legs and darted outside. Losing her balance, the girl fell with a yelp. "Ah!"

"You okay?" Odd called as he ran by, not breaking stride.

"As much as I can be after your dumb dog bowled me over!"

"He's a lot smarter than you!" And with that, he burst outside. The sun had sunk behind the main building, and a chill had set in. A small gray shape was running off towards the sports pitch. Uh-oh, that's Jim's territory!

Kiwi's presence was something of an open secret among the student body; most of them didn't mind him, and even Sissi had grown begrudgingly tolerant. But Jim, Odd knew, would bust him if he saw Kiwi. Which was a shame, because Odd quite liked Jim. Lots of students (especially girls) did. He was fun to tease, friendly, and funny, not to mention genuinely brave, as Odd could recall from some of Jim's forgotten adventures with the team. Unfortunately, he was also very strict with the rules, and breaking them was something Odd did quite often.

Picking up speed, he burst onto the scene. His heart sank. Kiwi was happily trying to jump on and lick Jim. The PE teacher had a frown on his face as he backed away. "Where'd this mangy mutt come from?"

As soon as he saw Odd, Kiwi abandoned Jim and darted back, yipping happily. Defeated, Odd knelt and took him in his arms. "Good boy, Kiwi. Look at the lovely mess you've landed us in."

"Odd Della Robbia!" Jim boomed, marching over and placing his hands on his hips. "You know perfectly well that pets aren't allowed on campus!"

Odd looked up at him with the best innocent expression he could muster. Option for wiggling out of trouble #1: deny everything. "But sir, he's not mine. I'd never seen him until just now."

"I see, I see. It's a marvel then that you knew how to call him by name!"

Option #2: bargain. "Can't we talk about this, Jim?"

"We certainly may not! I'm taking you straight to the principal to decide your punishment."

Option #3: stall and look for a chance to escape. "Well, alright. But can I put him back in my room? It'd be a shame if he ran off again or caused some kind of disturbance."

"Hmph, good point. Very well! But don't think you can get out my sight that easily! I'm following you every step of the way!"

Option #4: ...plead for help from on high.

His arms moved swiftly and firmly, blocking a flurry of punches. Spotting an opening, he snatched at Yumi's arm and pulled, trying to unbalance her. She fell, turned it into a roll, and leapt back to her feet-just as he threw a round kick at her. It connected. She hissed, but whipped around and immediately went back on the offense.

Her side kick connected solidly with his chest, expelling the air from his lungs. Ulrich stumbled back-she capitalized on it. The pendulum of the spar swung back and forth, back and forth. Palm strikes, kicks, dodges, blocks, punches, every weapon in both arsenals was pulled out as each strained to gain an advantage over the other.

The creak of a door. The sound of footsteps. Ulrich's attention wavered, his head turned, just for a moment-but that was all Yumi needed. He barely had time to recognize Jeremie's face before his girlfriend, in an improvised move, seized his T-shirt. The air spun around him-he made a grab at Yumi-they hit the floor.

He blinked, grimacing; his back throbbed, and he knew there'd be a bruise come morning. Yumi was atop him, their arms and legs tangled together, noses centimeters apart. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, hair askew; she was beautiful. Unable to resist, he leaned up and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"Draw?" he asked breathlessly, when he pulled away. She was smiling; it made his heart soar, to know that he could do that, that he had permission to kiss her, that he could make her smile.

"Draw," she agreed. "Gotta say, I like your new way of ending matches."

Ulrich grimaced, remembering his poor sportsmanship the first time they sparred. Is there ever a limit to how many times you want to slap your younger self?

They disentangled themselves and got up. The gym was almost completely deserted; Aelita was with them, listening to music and watching them spar, but other than her, they were alone. Ulrich rolled one shoulder, feeling the muscles pinch. He began to massage the skin, and then remembered who else had just walked in. "So? What'd you find?" he asked Jeremie.

Aelita removed her headphones. "Find? What were you looking for?"

As Yumi and Jeremie filled her in on their decision, shouts from outside reached Ulrich's ears. Jim's carrying on as usual, I see.

Then he heard another voice, rising in complaint. Odd?

Odd, and Jim yelling. That was never a good combination.

"You guys carry on without me," he called to his friends. "It sounds like Odd's in trouble, I'm gonna check it out."

Then he rushed off.

"Ahem. Are we disturbing you, sir?" Jim asked, his quieter-than-usual tone contrasting how he'd suddenly thrown open the door.

Odd peered in from behind him. Principal Delmas clearly had been in the middle of something-Professor Hertz was in the office as well. Her face was always strict, but now her frown was deeper than normal, her brows lower. The principal was giving Jim a glare that could incinerate. "No, not at all. I always appreciate people walking in my office without knocking."

"Uh, really?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry, sir."

"Principal Delmas," Professor Hertz interrupted, "It's high time I returned to my work anyway. Many thanks."

"It's nothing, and good evening."

They sounded like whatever they'd been doing was some dirty secret-were they having an affair or something…? Ew, now that was a mental image he wanted gone. Odd shook his head. Professor Hertz strode straight to the door, not even greeting him or Jim.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Principal Delmas was reaching for a booklet on his desk-something old and aged, a yellowed folder. He closed it with a too-strong snap, too much haste and force. Curiosity piqued, Odd glanced at the cover-

He managed to smooth his face before any of his astonishment could show on it. The inscription on the folder had read Waldo Schaeffer. And Jeremie had said he'd speak to Hertz this afternoon! His brain immediately began connecting dots: Jeremie speaks with Hertz, Herts runs straight to the principal, the principal pulls out a file on Waldo Schaeffer-not Franz Hopper the school teacher, as one might expect, but Waldo Schaeffer, his true name.

Very, very strange.

"And where have you left this dog?"

He started-while he'd been in his head, Jim had finished explaining the situation to Principal Delmas. The principal was now studying Odd gravely, the dossier on Waldo Schaeffer put away. Odd cursed himself for not watching where.

"In the boy's room."

Principal Delmas nodded, eyes fixed onto the blonde's. "Keeping animals in the dormitories is strictly forbidden. I will have to suspend you for several days for this. Now let's go collect this dog."

Odd's feet dragged on the way back to his room. The hallways suddenly felt like they led to the electric chair. It wasn't as bad as the eternal seconds when XANA was about to win before Aelita deactivated a tower, but despair still weighed heavy on his heart. He didn't want Kiwi to be taken away, sent to one of his sisters or the parents who wouldn't love him as much as Odd did. And a suspension, right after he'd met Eva? That was the cherry on top of his crummy-day sundae.

Reluctantly, he opened the door. As usual, his and Ulrich's room was messy. His French Literature textbook still lay on the floor, as did various clothes and papers. But there was no sign of Kiwi.

"Well? Where is this dog?" Principal Delmas asked.

Jim scratched his head, looking perplexed. "He must have hidden somewhere. Just wait a second…"

He bent to search under the beds. With a dissatisfied grunt, Jim rose and started opening drawers. As he threw open a wardrobe, Odd felt new hope rising. "Sir," he ventured. "I did tell Jim the dog wasn't mine."

"He's definitely here!" Jim snapped, throwing open the other wardrobe. He slammed it shut and started upending boxes.

When he tried looking under the bedside table lampshades, Principal Delmas drew the line. "Alright, that's enough, Jim. This is getting ridiculous."

"Principal Delmas, you can't suspend me for a dog that doesn't exist."

The headmaster's eyes narrowed. "Not that I trust your word, but since the dog is evidently not here, you will instead spend two days confined to your quarters. A teacher will come to collect you at the end of your lessons or meal, and will then accompany you to your chamber. At which point you will be absolutely prohibited from leaving. Are we clear?"

Awwww…

But at least he could see Eva in class. "Yes, sir."

"As for you, Jim, come with me. We need to have a discussion or two as to whether the gymnastics teacher should be barging in on the headmaster without announcing himself first."

After everything Jeremie had done-fight an evil artificial intelligence, decode a diary wrapped up in government-level encryptions, write his own programs-hacking into the secretarial database was child's play. He'd discovered the password, sissidelmas, during his first year at school, and it hadn't been changed since.

Booting up his laptop, he now entered the database and examined the staff dossiers. As she'd said, Professor Hertz had been a lab assistant while Hopper was teaching, but with one distinct difference: the lab listed was physics, not chemistry. Not only had Hertz lied, it was impossible for her to have only met Hopper once or twice.

What are you hiding, professor?

His next search through the archives was for Franz Hopper's dossier. Unfortunately, it was terse, containing a scant few things: the graduation dates of his degrees, the titles of some of his publications, a darkened, almost unrecognizable photo. Jeremie sighed and was resigned to close out, no answers gained, when his eyes reached the last line of the dossier: June 6th, 1994, resignation tendered. See enclosed letter.

There was no enclosed letter.

The blonde genius steepled his fingers, pondering. June 6th was the day Hopper and Aelita had fled to Lyoko; there was no way he could have written such a letter. Which meant...what? Someone had helped him cover up? But was it Hertz? Principal Delmas? Someone they hadn't met or considered?

Too many possibilities, too little certainties.