Alan and Prunella marveled at the news George had delivered to them. "That's the craziest idea I've ever heard," remarked Alan. "By putting her voice on the Internet, you could've easily handed her the world. And yet it worked."

George shrugged. "I had to do something. Otherwise, when Egregoria came back, her first act would've been to put us on trial for attempted assassination."

"The important thing is, Beat's okay," said Prunella. "And with any luck, that's the last we'll ever see of Egregoria."

"Don't jinx it, Prunella," Alan cautioned her.

They went their ways to their separate classes, George to room 218 for Mrs. Schwartz's history lesson. The woman had written General Sherman's March on the blackboard, but her first words to the assembled students had nothing to do with the Civil War: "Blake Robinson, I'd like you to go to the principal's office."

The rat boy's eyes widened. "Why?" he inquired.

"Because," answered the teacher, "you shouldn't be here."

The kids muttered to each other, unsure of whether Mrs. Schwartz's statement was meant to be taken literally or figuratively. Buster, however, knew immediately what was happening. Turning to the boy in the next desk over, he said quietly, "Arthur…you didn't…"

His friend nodded seriously. "I'm sorry, Buster."

"How could you do that?" the young rabbit snapped loudly at Arthur.

"Quiet, please," said Mrs. Schwartz, preparing to call the roll. "Binky Barnes?"

"Yo," said Binky, as the other children watched Blake exit the classroom with his nose down.

"Buster Baxter?"

"Not here!" exclaimed Buster. Leaping to his feet, he rushed for the door in pursuit of Blake.

He overtook the glum-looking boy in the center court. "Hold up," he called out.

Blake stopped, apparently surprised at the attention that was being paid to him.

"This just isn't fair," protested Buster. "You shouldn't have to go back to that awful gang school."

"It's okay," said Blake, somewhat indifferently.

"No, it's not okay," said Buster. "If I was in charge, I'd make sure every kid gets to go to a good school." He handed a small slip of paper to the boy. "Here's my E-mail address. Stay in touch."

"Okay," said Blake with a slight smile. "I guess you're my new homie."

"Yeah." Buster grinned vapidly. "Homie."

They parted. Blake resumed his march of no return, while Buster hurried back to the history lecture. Rather than reoccupy his old desk next to Arthur's, he chose a desk on the other end of the room, near where Binky and Van sat.

"Hey, Beat," said Muffy, gabbing into her cell phone as she left school for the day. "How are you holding up?"

"Couldn't be better," she heard the rabbit-aardvark girl reply. "I'm still under observation, but I should be out of here by tomorrow morning."

Less lucky than Muffy was Binky, who was intercepted by the principal on his way out. "Please come to my office, Mr. Barnes," she said pitilessly.

Relations remained cool between Arthur and Buster. "Look, I'm sorry," Arthur tried to explain. "The principal and I talked for a long time, and we both agreed this will be better for Blake in the long run."

"I don't wanna talk about it," grumbled Buster.

Fern and Tabby, meanwhile, lingered behind in their empty home room. "I need an answer, Fern," said Tabby, her book bag hanging heavily from her shoulder. "If I'm the girl you're in love with, I've got to know."

The poodle girl appeared to shrink before her eyes. "Tabby…" she said inconclusively.

"What are you afraid of?" Tabby pressed her. "You've already let the cat out of the bag. Are you afraid your friends will think less of you? Are you afraid of your own feelings? Are you afraid I won't return your feelings?"

Fern's response was an almost imperceptible nod.

"I take that as a yes," said Tabby, smiling elatedly. "And you have nothing to fear, Fern. I do return your feelings."

The poodle girl gazed at her with bright eyes. "I am in love with you, Tabby," she admitted. "And it doesn't feel weird at all. It's, like, the most natural thing in the world."

"Okay," said Tabby hesitantly. "I love you, and you love me. But before we go any further with this, there's something I need to tell you about myself."

"What?" said Fern, impatient to plant a kiss on her friend's lips.

Tabby lowered her eyes. "Now it's my turn to be embarrassed," she said, her words nearly inaudible.

Let's just get on with it before I start having doubts, thought Fern.

"The good news is," said Tabby, her eyes connecting with Fern's, "you're not a lesbian after all."

"I'm not?" Fern blurted out.

Tabby's earnest stare indicated an affirmative response.

"But…you're a girl, and I'm in love with you," Fern pointed out. "How does that make me not a lesbian?"

"I…I…" A two-ton weight appeared to be dangling from Tabby's tongue.

"Just spit it out," Fern urged her.

"I'm transgendered," she finally confessed.

"Which means…" said Fern, although she had an inkling of the implications.

"I'm physically male," said Tabby, "but I consider myself a girl. I've been living as a girl for two years now."

Fern's brain reeled.

She's a boy. She's a boy.

She's a boy.

A boy.

"Excuse me," said Fern. She suddenly bolted for the classroom exit.

"Fern…?" Tabby yelled after her.

Fern was too far away to hear. After making a mad dash for the girls' room, she fell to her knees, stuck her head over the toilet, and vomited out her lunch.

In the detention room, Principal Cameron drew an envelope from inside her handbag. "I read your confession," she told Binky, who sat helplessly before her. "So you were the mastermind behind the fire ant attack. You've been lying to me all this time."

"Oh, man," the boy groaned. "You're only supposed to read that if I'm dead."

"You are dead, Binky Barnes." The next thing she took from her bag was a piece of rubber hose. "Say hello to my little friend."

To be continued in Arthur Goes Sixth II