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interest in anything else.
    â€œYes,” said Fuzzy.
    â€œWill you send me one?” Jenny asked.
    Fuzzy just sat there, and Max knew that somebody was going to start making fun of him in about half a second, when Jenny held up her qFlex bracelet. A text message was scrolling around the surface.
    â€œWow! How did you know my number?”
    â€œI saw your name on your notebook.”
    Everyone looked and saw that it said
Jenny Turling
in tiny letters at the top of her notebook.
    Fuzzy’s eyes must be able to zoom in on stuff just like a camera
, Max realized. Then she thought,
Duh, they
are
cameras!
    â€œAnd then,” continued Fuzzy, “I accessed the databases of the major cell phone companies and found fifty-seven Jenny Turlings. But there is only one in this area.”
    â€œBut aren’t those databases private?” asked Max.
    â€œWell, there is a primitive sort of password protection,” replied Fuzzy, “but I decrypted it with—”
    Suddenly, one of the big wall screens lit up with Vice Principal Barbara’s virtual face.
    â€œUnauthorized use of text-messaging device. One discipline tag to F. Robot. One discipline tag to J. Turling.”
    Jenny let out an indignant squawk and turned to Mr. Xu.
    Mr. Xu gave her a little nod.
    â€œVice Principal Barbara, I think we can override those tags. The text message was part of a classroom demonstration,” he said.
    â€œThere are no records that you made a request to violate school guidelines for such a demonstration,” Barbara’s grating voice replied.
    â€œWell, it just came up. Now, Vice Principal Barbara, if—”
    â€œI will make a note that allowing students to send text messages is one of your teaching methods. I am unaware of how it can be helpful in studying the history of colonial America, the subject of your upcoming UpGrade test. This information will be reflected in your Constant UpGrade teacher score.” Her screen flicked off.
    Mr. Xu looked like he was burning with a desireto throw something heavy at Vice Principal Barbara’s screen. But he no doubt knew from past experience that Barbara was still watching and, in fact, recording whatever he did next, ready to further reduce his #CUG score if he showed any reaction at all.
    So, he took a deep breath. “Fuzzy, I’d like to thank you for answering our questions. I’m sure it will be a valuable experience for all of us to have you in our class. However, now I think it would be best for us to return to today’s Constant UpGrade study schedule: Agricultural Methods of the 1700s.”

3.2
CAFETERIA
    As they made their way from history class to the cafeteria, Fuzzy walked steadily, with no trace of his troubles from the day before. He seemed just like any other kid. Krysti, in fact, seemed to have accepted him as just one of the gang and was chattering away as usual.
    â€œDid you see Mr. Xu’s face?” she asked. “He was buggin’ big-time.”
    â€œBuggin’ . . . big . . . time . . . ?” said Biggs. “Fuzzy here probably thinks you’re speaking Norwegian or something.”
    â€œActually,” said Fuzzy. “I understand both the Norwegian language and the slang terms that Krysti is using. “‘Buggin’ big-time’ is a combination of twopopular colloquial phrases from the late twentieth century: ‘bugging’ meaning to lose control of one’s emotions and ‘big-time’ meaning ‘very much so.’”
    â€œWhoa! Thanks, Fuzz!” said Krysti, and she threw her arm around him like they were best friends. “You’re cooler than you look! Speaking of which, I think I’m going to draw your picture during lunch.”
    â€œYou should have him fighting a monster like a movie robot,” suggested Biggs.
    â€œFuzzy versus Godzilla!” yelled Simeon.
    Max was annoyed.
    She hoped that once they sat down