The True Meaning of Smekday by Adam Rex Page A

accident,” I said. First human I meet in three days and I squirt ammonia in his eyes. “He sca…startled me. You know, things like this happen when you just go barging through doors like that—”
    “Who the hell are you?” said the biggest kid. He was maybe my age, with a dirty face and ratty blond curls. I’d also learn that he tended to swear a lot. I don’t care for that, personally, so I’m going to bleep him out from now on. “Did the Boov send you?” he added.
    Two of the boys were guiding the one I’d blinded back into the room. I noticed I wasn’t being invited in.
    “Did the Boov…? Of course not,” I answered. “Why would—”
    “She’s probably a bleeping spy,” said the blond boy. “Probably not even a real girl. She doesn’t look right.”
    “Oh, I don’t look right. Sure. Do you know you have a peanut stuck to your chin?”
    “Shut the bleep up! You don’t get to speak!”
    “ And you smell like ice cream.”
    The boy lunged forward, but he was caught by a smaller boy on his left. I stepped back and aimed the squirt bottle.
    “Do that again and I’ll clean your face for you,” I said.
    There was a moment of silence. Most of the boys were looking at Curly like they were waiting for orders. Instead it was the smaller boy holding him back who spoke.
    “Let’s just go inside where we can all see better.”
    “No!” said Curly. “No girls allowed!”
    “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—”
    “I’m not asking her to join,” said the boy. “I’m saying we should go inside.” Nobody did anything, so he added, “In the light it’ll be easier to tell if she’s just a Boov in a girl suit.”
    “Yeah,” said Curly. “That’s good. Back inside!”
    We went in. Curly marched behind me like he was my guard. The door opened onto a huge room, larger than the last. I had some idea what to expect this time, so I wasn’t entirely caught off guard by the castle hanging upside down in the middle. This one was whole. Whole and perfect, untouched by the Boov. I could have stared forever at the dancing light that flickered over each icy brick and frosting tower.
    “Hey! No pictures!” Curly shouted. He was still behind me. Behind him there was a ring of candles and a little camp stove in the corner of the room, surrounded by boxes and chairs. The boys took up their seats. There wasn’t one for me, and I wasn’t about to sit on the floor, so I stood.

    “Check her back for a zipper,” said Curly.
    A couple of boys approached me, but a particular expression on my face made them change their minds.
    “I saw some graffiti that pointed me here,” I said. “So I came. My name’s Gratuity. My…friends call me Tip.”
    “Tip!” shouted Curly. He laughed like a donkey, and some of the other boys joined in. “What kind of bleeping name is Tip?”
    “The kind you’re never calling me, you big—”
    “I’m Christian,” said the boy who’d held Curly back in the hall. He had caramel-color skin and caramel-color hair, like they were both made from the same thing. All the other boys stared at me from their seats. All of them except the one I’d squirted, who was pouring water all over his red face. His eyes looked like cherries.
    One by one they gave their names. There was Tanner, Juan, Alberto, Marcos, Jeff, Yosuan, and Cole. I think. They were all between the ages of maybe eight to thirteen. Curly didn’t give his name.
    “Why are you here?” said Christian. “Why weren’t you on the rocketpods like all the others?”
    “I decided to drive instead.”
    “Liar,” said Curly.
    “Anyway,” I said, “weren’t the rocketpods supposed to come here? Where is everybody?”
    “Arizona,” said Christian. “The Boov decided to keep Florida for themselves.”
    Arizona. I couldn’t believe it.
    “But…they promised it to us. They promised it to us forever .”
    Curly snorted. I suddenly felt a little foolish. Naive.
    “That was before they discovered oranges,” said