Is this right? Chapter one

I can't be gay...can I? Oh, God. I think I am, I'm in love with...Zim.

Is this right?

By: CranberrySauce and ShamenKing

Warnings: It’s freaking gay and ZaDR, so if you clicked on this by mistake, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! RUN, RUN AWAY AND NEVER RETUUUUUUURN! And if you meant to click on this, ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Invader Zim. Okay?

Summary: Why do I feel this way around him? I-is this right? What will dad think of me when he learns his only son is…gay? And besides that, STILL into the paranormal. Maybe everyone was right, maybe I AM crazy…

Chapter One

No one spoke out in class, at least, not without raising their hand first. The teacher, Mr. Killjoy, was just what his name predicted. A killjoy. The whole school was afraid of him and his ‘detentions of doom‘. Or, so they said. Only a few people had went through detention for him and straight afterward, they had to go to the hospital. For what, I never found out, it wasn‘t in my best interest. So, it was just this unspoken rule, throughout the whole school, to never upset Mr. Killjoy. He was nice enough when we did it his way (or it was the highway. Literally), but it was as if he didn’t want to lose his last grip on sanity, so he was mean when we acted out our teenage insanity.

Today, though, Mr. Killjoy seemed even more ready then usual to hand out detention slips and we all sensed it. So, the room was deathly silent, no one moved to pick up a fallen pencil, no one raised their hand to answer a question, no one’s eyes left Mr. Killjoy’s face. If he relaxed even the tiniest, so did we. If he even tensed the littlest, we were in hot pursuit. For now, Killjoy seemed pretty neutral. At least until the phone rang. His face contorted into a slight rage and we all tensed so badly, that we knew It’d hurt in the morning.

He picked up the phone and said, “This is Mr. Killjoy’s room, Killjoy speaking.” His voice was dripping with honey and a sugar coating we knew to be fake. That was the way he talked to our parents over the phone and the way he talked to all of the other teachers. We couldn’t tell people what he did, because they didn’t understand. No one knew him very well, but because of his sugar coated, maple syrup voice, most thought he was a doll. Idiots. He paused and lowered his voice, “I see.” he paused another beat and sighed, “Send the boy down, I’ll warn the…eh, sweet children.”

We all groaned when he uttered the dreaded words known as “sweet children”, it melted out moms hearts and made our dads sigh. Soon after he’d first uttered those words, we were soon known as “sweet children” on the street, by our parents, the dean, everyone! I sighed and slumped in my seat and the girl behind me muttered, “I hate him so much…”, and I muttered an agreement.

Killjoy turned to us and exclaimed, “There is a new student on his way to this particular room.” he pointed a finger to the floor, as if he was pointed to the whole room, “I must warn you though, (because I was required to) he is…different from the rest of you. In the sense he has, eh, how do I put this lightly…”

Everyone in the room stopped, teacher was TONGUE TIED? That was either a very bad thing or a VERY, very bad thing. Or it meant that he didn’t know what to say. Same thing.

“Okay, I’ll just say and I don’t care how well you all take it because I’m the teacher and what I say goes.” he shrugged and we all breathed again, he seemed normal, or, as normal as he can get. “He’s green and he’s missing ears and a nose. He’s from another country (or whatever) and I want you all to, hehe, treat him with as much respect as you treat yourselves with.”

That didn’t…feel right. The way he was talking about this new kid, he sounded like an-- no. That part in my life was over, there’s no such thing as…well, I’m not even going to think it. A knock at the door threw me out of my thoughts and Mr. Killjoy grumbled his way to the door. He peeped out the window and just unlocked it, grumbling across the room to his desk where he plopped down as if he’d done something worth while.

When the new kid didn’t just walk in, Teacher sighed and yelled, “Will you get your green ass in here?!”

The door opened and crashed into the wall. A green skinned, no ears or nose, dressed in black, kid walked into the room, a scowl playing on his emerald green face. He stood at the front of the room and everyone stared, except Killjoy, that is.

“Introduce yourself.” Killjoy yawned, apparently (and suddenly) tired.

The new kid grumbled and cleared his throat. He flashed a toothy grin, and I caught a glimpse of his zippered teeth, totally not of this world. I shook my head and pushed that thought out of my mind. Old habits die hard. The kid opened his mouth to speak and I saw his tongue, almost serpentine like…but I pushed that out of my head to. I was NOT going back to therapy for this.

“I am ZIM!” he suddenly screamed, and after all the silence, we all clutched our hears in pain. Many of my fellow peers cursed, but at no one in particular. Another unspoken rule of ours was, never get angry at another person, they can probably beat you up.

“God fucking damn it…” I muttered and made sure my ears weren’t bleeding. For a couple of minutes the new ki- I mean Zim watched us with satisfaction. As if he was enjoying our pain. That jerk. The girl behind me growled and said, “I wish we didn’t have to be quiet all the fucking time…” and, once again, I agreed.

Zim cleared his throat, his scowl back in place, and he raised his hands over his head, “Hello friends. I am a perfectly normal human worm baby. You have nothing -- absolutely NOTHING to fear from me. Just pay no attention to me and we’ll get along just fine.”

Killjoy rolled his chocolate eyes and said, “Just wonderful Zim, now go sit down and shut up.”

Zim saluted and goose stepped to the open seat by the door. I stared at him oddly, there was just something about him, something that didn’t seem quite…human. My subconscious was aware he was staring back, but I didn’t waver. He flashed those zippered teeth at me and I blushed badly, just now noticing I had been staring. Dang it. For the rest of the class period, I stared at my black and blue skater shoes. Not that I skated or anything, I just thought they looked good.

The shrill sound of the bell sent us clutching our ears again, except for Zim. He had no ears, but, if he had no ears, how can he hear? I made a mental note to ask him later. For the time being, I had to get to advanced math. The chair squeaked as I moved sluggishly out of my desk. A sigh escaped my lips and I brushed a manicured hand through my proudly standing scythe. It popped back up in place as I grabbed my notebook and shoved it under my arm, then turned to leave.

Once at the door, I noticed that Zim seemed to be waiting for someone. He was twirling one of his leather straps hanging from his metal looking back pack. I sighed and, not wanting to keep him, walked by him and out of the door. Outside of room 303, my advanced math class, I stopped and thought about it. I laughed a bit to myself as the halls cleared and the late bell rang. A tap on the shoulder sent me turning around in slight shock, I had thought everyone was in their classrooms.

“Oh, uh. Zim, right?” I stuttered, though, I’ve never stuttered before. Was there something wrong with me? Doubt it.

“Yes! I AM ZIIIIM!” he cleared his throat. “Ahem, excuse me. And you are…?” he pointed to me.

“Oh, heh.” I patted my chest, “I’m Dib. Um, I-eh- nice to meet you, I ‘spose.” I held out my hand and he looked at it curiously. “Don’t you know how to shake hands…?” I pulled my hand back slowly.

“Shake hands? As a formal greeting? Of COURSE! Eh, remind me.” he fingered the chain strapped to his black skater gloves.

“Oh, eh, sure?” I held out my hand again and said, “Here, hold out your hand.” he looked at me suspiciously before he stretched it out to me and I grasped it tightly. He blinked in confusion as I lowered it up and down in what was known as a universal greeting, the hand-shake.

He laughed suddenly and started to do it with me, “We touch hands and then shake! Yes, yes, so simple it even fooled me…” he pulled my other hand into a shake and started to pump them up and down.

“Uh, okay, Zim. I think we’ve ‘greeted’ enough.” My arms were crossed over my chest and I dropped my notebook. It flapped open and revealed the latest drawing I’ve been working on. I blushed as Zim slowed and stared at the picture. He gave me a curious glance as he bent to pick it up. Zim held it close to his face and placed it in my waiting hands.

“That-” he pointed to the drawing, “-looks like Zim sitting in class. Was that what you were doing?”

“Ahem, Uh, yeah. You looked like a good person to draw so…” I trailed off, why am I all tongue tied around him? He’s a guy, like me. I clutched the notebook to my chest, but just so I could see it.

He stepped up closer to me and bent his head, his black bangs falling into his face, and said, “Do you want to finish drawing Zim? It’s not a masterpiece unless it’s finished.”

“Uhmmmm.” I pulled the book away from his oddly grey eyes, “Wouldn’t that be skipping?” Once I said it, I knew that was a stupid reason. I was already skipping the first 10 minutes of class.

“Skipping?” he shook his head, I guess he had no idea what I meant, “Of COURSE not. It’s for the sake of-” he sat on the maple chair near the doorway in a ‘thinker’ pose, “-ART! And my portrait is always welcome.” he stood up to look at the drawing from behind, “besides, my awe inspiring awesomeness needs some more adjustment in that portrait too.”

I sighed, “Fine, alright.” I lifted my head and stepped away from him, noticing he was at least five inches shorter then me. I turned my head left and right to make sure no one was coming. “Good. The coast is clear. Let’s go to the library, no one ever goes there and the librarian doesn’t care what we do. Sound good?”

“If it’s what cha can do.” he shrugged and flashed a cheeky grin. I frowned at the way he just made what I said as lowly and I sighed.

“Whatever. Here, follow me. The library is just down the hall, behind those two wooden doors.” I pointed to my right and he stared. He muttered something like, “Inferior woodings” and the “mighty Zim”. I rolled my eyes and started off towards the usually empty room filled with useless books. My skater shoes making tiny squeaks as I walked. Zim appeared beside me, his heeled combat boots making tapping noises. The sounds mingled, giving me a headache and I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the door and landed on the soft carpet of the library.

“Hmmmmm. This…’LIE-brrrr-airy’ is a good source of information, yes?” Zim tapped his protruding bottom lip and he glanced at me for an answer.

I looked away and spanned my arms out over the room, “Yes. That’s what a library is FOR.” I flashed him an irritated look, “Why?”

He fumbled for words and cleared his throat, “Eh, because I, eh, I’m doing a -- a project! And I need as much information as I can get.” he nodded eagerly, “Yes, project. You can help me with that once your done drawing me and my awesomeness.” he ran his hands down from his chest to his hips and smirked.

A faint smile peeked it’s way onto my lips. “Fine, I’ll help you with that. AFTER I draw you.” I grabbed his arm and led him to the stairs that led up to the non-fiction floor. Once there I pulled out two of the old plastic chairs and had him sit across from me. He grinned and put a hand under his chin, crossed his legs, the metal belts clinking together, and set his face in a thinking expression. I smirked and turned to a new page, I can start over. I have all day.

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Okay, it's zadr folks. Don't like gay things, you shouldn't have read this. If you do, join the club!