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just ditch him.
    â€œC’mon, Fuzz, we’ve got to hurry.”
    She sped up and started weaving past clumps ofslow-moving kids in the hallway. Fuzzy kept up with no problem. He was apparently learning that you didn’t have to watch every kid, just the clumps.
    When they got to the tech room, she was ready to say good-bye to Fuzzy and hightail it to gym. But Dr. Jones and Nina wanted to talk.
    â€œWe are really impressed with the progress Fuzzy has been making,” said Nina.
    â€œDo you know he has written eighty thousand lines of new code today?” asked Jones.
    â€œThat’s good, right?” asked Max, anxious to get out of there.
    â€œYes, that’s what he’s here for,” said Dr. Jones. “Unfortunately, we just learned today that his launch date—that is, the time when we need him to be fully activated—has been moved up. We won’t have as much time as we had hoped. So we need to do everything we can to keep him learning.”
    â€œHow would you feel about spending some time with Fuzzy after school?” asked Nina.
    â€œUh, you mean like a study hall?”
    â€œNo, we mean away from school,” Nina said.
    â€œYou don’t mean like a date?” gasped Max. She thought about how Krysti and, of course, Biggs, were already teasing her about her robot boyfriend.
    â€œWell, no, nothing like a date,” said Dr. Jones. “But how about taking him home for dinner? He can ride the bus with you.”
    â€œRide the bus? But what if—”
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Nina. “We’ll follow along, of course, with a couple of security units. But we want him to have as many typical kid experiences as possible. When you get to your house, we’ll wait outside in case there are any problems. You’ll have a chance to talk more and help him figure out this whole school thing. Then we’ll bring him back here.”
    â€œUh . . . I guess,” Max said. “Listen, I’ve really got to go now. I’ll be back after gym class.”
    She bolted from the room, but had barely started down the hall when the chime rang. And then came a voice she had heard way too much lately:
    â€œLate for class. One discipline tag to M. Zelaster.”

4.1
MAX ’ S HOUSE
    â€œYou might at least have messaged first,” said Max’s father. “I’d have ordered pizza or something . . .”
    â€œDad, don’t worry about it. Fuzzy doesn’t eat,” Max said.
    â€œOh. That’s right. Of course not.” Don Zelaster smacked his forehead in a
Duh!
gesture. “But still . . .” He looked to where Fuzzy was scanning a bookshelf in the next room, apparently out of earshot. Max wondered if Fuzzy knew what a book was. Old-fashioned books were one of her mother’s affectations.
    â€œIt may not sit too well with your mom, you know,” her dad said in a lower voice. “I think she made herfeelings about robot students pretty clear the other day. And now you’ve actually brought the thing home . . .”
    â€œOh zar—er, smoke,” said Max. She stopped herself because her father still considered “zark” a bad word.
But, really
, thought Max,
this is a totally zarked situation
.
    She had gotten so used to Fuzzy already that she hadn’t been thinking about what her mom’s reaction would be. And it would almost certainly be bad.
    â€œOK,” she said, “but I wish you wouldn’t call him a ‘thing.’”
    Her father shook his head. “Isn’t this the exact same conversation you had with your mother? Do you really want to get her all riled up again? And besides . . . it
is
a thing. A thing with a bad wig.”
    Max groaned.
    â€œHe’s not—”
    â€œTrust me, honey, I know what I am saying,” said her dad, who, in fact, did know a lot about robots because of his job writing high-tech