"Alright students," Candide drones, "You are to present to the entire class a detailed slideshow featuring something secret you can find out about the school. This assignment is worth half your grade. You have until tomorrow afternoon. Go."

The students scatter. Candide walks off stage and through the hallways of the school, Scudworth scuttling along behind.

Scudworth holds up a finger. "Candide – isn't asking the students to go looking for our secrets a very bad idea?"

"No. This is the best way to fortify our defenses. We can't have any secret information leaking to the public – all the students have phones, remember? It's easy to whistleblow."

"Aha! Nobody would ever post about something they're doing for a school project."

"Exactly. And afterwards, we can wipe their minds with the Memory Eraser Ray."

Scudworth swoons. "You are so smart, Candide. Like the clone of Einstein and the clone of Tesla had a white baby thirty years older than them."

Candide hums. "After Joan and JFK's breakup, we might have to get Einstein and Tesla together. Write it down."

Scudworth takes down a hygiene poster from the wall and scribbles his notes on the back, taking the chance to doodle Candide in profile.

Topher opens his locker and huffs. "School secrets. How thrilling."

Abe grins sincerely. "It's super thrilling, right?"

Topher sighs. "Any ideas?"

"I want to go undercover, like Joan did. She dressed as a man to expose the sexism of the men's only basketball team. It was a great disguise – no one had any idea who she was." Abe leans in to Topher's ear, and whispers, "Fake mustache."

"Well, I think that's a stupid idea. Do your project on the mystery meat in the cafeteria. But you'll have to excuse me, because I need to study for another class okay bye," Topher stammers, sprinting down the hallway and out the front of the school. Thanks for the idea, Abraham, but not everybody is as honest as you.

Confucius is there, taking selfies with his phone in a ring light stand despite the fact that the sun is shining.

"Money," Topher growls, holding out one hand.

"Say cheese," Confucius replies, keeping a firm grip on the bill until the camera flashes.

Topher smiles for the photo. It does not look natural, but he's up twenty dollars, and he hops on the bus to the mall. When he arrives, he walks into the cheapest outlet and buys a frilly pink dress and a red shimmery lipstick. It costs twenty-two dollars after tax, so he lays out pennies and nickels on the counter one by one until the cashier gets bored and lets him leave.

On the bus back, he looks up 'women in STEM' on his phone, and browses the Wikipedia article, randomly picking a hyperlink to follow.

Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle-upon-Tyne; (1623 – 15 December 1673) was a prolific English philosopher, poet, scientist, fiction writer and playwright.

Great – a multi-hyphen! He scans further down the page.

Being the first woman to be formally invited to visit the Royal Society, her trail-blazing personality shows how she was bold enough to take a stand for women at her own risk.

She was an ally to women, just like Topher. She also has curly hair to rival his own. Margaret is the perfect woman to impersonate.

"I can't believe I woke up late on presentation day!" Abe gripes, smoothing out the picnic blanket underneath him.

"Do you even know how to set an alarm?" Confucius asks, opening his personal chef-made bento box.

"Yeah, I set it for six o'clock."

Confucius takes Abe's phone. "This is for six P.M. Let me show you how to do it."

Confucius begins explaining what alarm sounds you can choose, when a short curly-haired girl with poor posture walks past, her frilly pink dress bouncing with each step. Abe doesn't hear a word of Confucius' awesome explanation.

"Who's she?" Abe asks. Her hair is big and puffy like her dress, and she's wearing a red beret on an angle. When he looks at her, it feels easier to forget Joan.

Confucius takes a picture of her and zooms in on the nametag plastered to her chest. "Margaret Cavendish," he reads. Topher must be experimenting with some stuff right now. Good for him (or her!).

"I haven't seen her around before."

"It's only been a month. I'm sure you haven't met all the second-generation clones yet," Confucius says.

"Right. I'll go introduce myself."

Confucius grabs Abe's shoulder before he can stand up. "Maybe just give her some space today. She looks kind of stressed out."

"She's probably worried about her presentation. It is half our grade, after all. I guess I'll meet her afterwards, when we're both crushed under the weight of doing bad on one assignment for the rest of the semester."

"Good thinking. I fixed your alarm."

"Thanks! I'm going to ask you every time I have a tech problem in the future. Every single time!"

Confucius forces his lips into a smile. "Sure thing, buddy," he grits.

"It's algebra. Just open the book anywhere and solve fifty problems," says Mr. Sunglasses. He sets his feet up on the desk and falls asleep.

The Four Amigas start chatting right away, discussing what they're going to choose for their presentations. Topher walks over and clears his throat. To get their attention, not to prepare to do a voice. As an ally, he knows that women have all sorts of voices, so he'll be using his own.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi, uh..." Harriet trails off. "Have we met?"

"Of course. I'm insulted that you don't remember me, Harriet. Margaret! My name is Margaret!" he yells, pointing to his nametag.

"Wait – I remember now. We have Biology together, right?"

"Yes, that's right." No backbone whatsoever. Her lie is so obvious, too.

The gym teacher, Mrs. Payne bursts through the door. "Surprise pop quiz in the gymnasium! And by quiz, I mean volleyball game divided by gender. Let's go, people!"

Mr. Sunglasses doesn't say anything about her taking the students.

The girls gather up their things, as Topher pretends to have lost something in his backpack. Harriet turns back as they reach the doorway.

"Are you coming, Margaret?"

"I'm not really comfortable changing in front of you. As you remember."

"Nobody's looking at you," Harriet says. "We all have the same bodies."

"Uh-huh," Topher says, voice strained. Not saying anything about that could practically castrate him of his ally status. Unfortunately, calling out her transphobia could also reveal his disguise.

"Ooh – I know," Joan says. "This weird guy, Topher, can crawl inside lockers. He's about the same size and shape as you. If you change inside a locker, nobody will be able to see you."

"That's a great idea. Thank you, Joan. I'm really feeling like part of the sisterhood," Topher says.

They all walk together to the locker room, and Topher makes sure to stare at the floor as much as possible. He picks the least dirty gymwear out of the lost and found and climbs into a locker. There's not much room to move around, especially with how puffy his dress is, but he manages to pull on the tank top and skort and join the rest of the team on the court.

Quickly, his basketball instincts kick in, and he keeps trying to catch the ball and throw it into the hoop. His teammates yell at him, until Ms. Payne blows the whistle and benches him. He pulls out his phone, and looks up the rules of volleyball – something he maybe should have done before beginning to play – yeah, no hoops involved. Oh well. At least he doesn't have to exercise any more.

"That coach is blind," Abe says, from over his shoulder. "You deserve to be out there."

"Don't say 'blind' like that. But thank you."

Topher turns around to look at Abe – he's in the very front row of the bleachers. Abe closes his notebook, and lays it on the seat next to him.

"At least it gives me a chance to talk to you."

"What?"

"Sorry, was that too forward? I'm such a dinger at this stuff."

Topher isn't sure what Abe means exactly, but it can't be good.

"Why are you at this game, anyway?" he asks, quickly changing the subject.

"I'm researching to see if there's any sexism here, like there was in 2003."

"I told you to pick another topic," Topher growls.

Abe chuckles. "You must be thinking of another president. This is the first time we've met, Margaret."

Right. Topher is Margaret. He can't slip up like that again.

"Just find another topic. This one's taken, and you don't wanna look like a copycat, do you?"

"No?"

"Good. Because if you don't get out of here, I'll tell everyone you copied my presentation."

"I like a woman who can set firm boundaries. Sure, Margaret. I'll 'get outta here'. I'm looking forward to your presentation," he says, batting his eyelashes before strutting out.

Topher rubs his temples, trying to get rid of the headache he suddenly just got. It doesn't help. There's two minutes left in the game and the girls are going to lose. He skulks back through the locker room, grabs his dress, and changes in his hall locker to avoid Ms. Payne yelling at him. He gets enough woman-yelling-at-him at home.

In the locker room, the Four Amigas shower and start changing back into their regular clothes, still angry about losing to a bunch of boys.

"How did we lose that? This ain't Top Gun," Frida quips.

"I know how we lost. Where's Margaret?" Cleo asks. "I'm gonna kill her."

"I'll help you, babe," Frida says, wrapping her towel between her hands like a piano wire.

"Me too," Harriet adds. "Metaphorical killing, right?"

Frida shrugs.

Joan pulls on her shirt. "Lay off, you guys. It was obviously her first time playing."

Harriet frowns. "But she didn't listen to us when we told her 'nothing but net' doesn't apply to volleyball."

"She was probably just stressed out from everyone yelling at her."

Frida points her finger at Joan. "Why are you being so defensive of her? She just lost us the game."

Joan sighs. "Come on, guys. Haven't you ever felt excluded? Like an outcast, a loser?"

Cleo stops applying lipstick to say, "No."

"I have. But making friends with you guys finally feels like I have a home," Joan says, raising her hands to show her sincerity. "None of us remember meeting Margaret. But that's only because we never gave her a chance," she pleads, voice breaking.

"Ugh. Fine," Cleo says. "Just stop crying. You're an ugly crier."

In the cafeteria, Topher sits alone. It's still painful watching everyone pass his table, knowing they'd rather sit on the floor than next to him. But he can't exactly eat in a mens' room stall while being Margaret (the womens' smells weird!) so he's stuck here.

The Four Amigas walk over to him with burning purpose in their eyes, and he hunches over and covers his ears with his hands to prepare himself. Why does he keep leaving his noise protecting headphones in his locker?

They stop in front of him. Joan takes a step forward, and speaks:

"Margaret, we were gonna go to the movies later. You can come with us, if you want."

Topher looks up, keeping his hands close to his ears. "Really?"

"Yes," everyone says, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

"What movie is it?" he asks.

"It's a black and white French movie–"

"Okay, I don't wanna go. Thanks for the offer."

"What?"

"I don't want to go to your stupid movie," Topher enunciates.

"See?" Cleo says.

Joan's smile fades. "Fine. See you later?"

Margaret is being retired permanently after tomorrow, so, "Not likely."

The girls walk away. Topher bites his tuna sandwich, and chews it with a small smile. It's been so long since he's been invited to something. When he says 'no' every time, people stop asking. He smooths down his dress – hopefully, the return policy holds up. A tiny part of him almost doesn't want it to.

"The Memory Eraser Ray is broken? What did you do?" Candide screeches.

"I didn't do anything, I swear! It was Mr. B!"

"Stop shifting the blame to meeeeeee just because I'm a robot. It's a real dick moooooovvveeeeeee."

"Sorry, Mr. B," Scudworth whispers, "But I need to look competent in front of Candide so she'll find me more attractive."

"I can hear everything you're saying."

Scudworth freezes, then stands back up. "Please disregard that."

"You need to find another way to wipe their minds, and soon. Presentations are this afternoon, in case you forgot."

"I didn't!" Scudworth cries.

"I did," he whispers to Mr. B.

"I can still hear you."

"Dammit!" Scudworth screams.

"I wonder what Margaret's gonna present," Abe says, sighing dreamily, leaning back in his auditorium seat.

Confucius hums, flicking through filters for his latest selfie. On the other side of Abe, JFK is quickly running through his own presentation, mouthing along to index cards.

Helen of Troy finishes her presentation on the green slugs she found in Nostradamus' locker, and exits the stage. In the wings, Nostradamus grumbles about how the slugs were his and if she'd bothered to ask him she'd know that – but Topher doesn't care, so he elbows Nostradamus and sprints to the microphone.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to my presentation."

Topher clicks to the title slide and reads it out: "Clone High School Has Memory-Wiping Technology!"

In the wings, Scudworth gasps.

"Just kidding." Topher hears a worrying sigh of relief from backstage, but continues anyway. "Odd how none of you seem to remember me, isn't it? We grew up together, right? We share classes, teachers; hell, I've even shared my lunches with the less fortunate among you."

He clicks to the next slide: SEXISM IN THE MODERN AGE.

"Or have I?! Because I am not Margaret Cavendish."

Topher pulls his arms out from the sleeves of his dress, and shimmies it over his waist to the floor, revealing his regular clothes underneath.

"I am Topher Bus! And my presentation is about..." The lights go out, and a harsh spotlight focuses only on him. "Misandry!" he cries.

In the audience, Abe chuckles. "That's so silly. Topher and Margaret can't be the same person, because that would mean–"

He stops suddenly, gawking at Topher. Margaret has awful posture and long curly hair. Margaret called him out for using politically incorrect language. Margaret accidentally walked into the boys' bathroom five times yesterday.

"Dinger."

"Same thing happened with me and, uh, John Dark," JFK says, patting Abe on the shoulder. "I still have the only thing my gay foster dads left me – the Will and Grace complete DVD box set – if you, er, wanna come over and watch."

Confucius pats Abe's other shoulder. "You can come to my place too, and watch Heartstopper."

"Thanks, guys. I think I might just take you up on those offers."

"What's Will and Grace?" Confucius asks.

Back on stage, Topher flicks to his final slide, which simply reads: MISANDRY.

"And so, in conclusion, I have been treated better as a woman than as a man, thereby proving misandry exists in this school despite everybody allegedly being equal," Topher concludes, struggling to breathe after such a long and emphatic presentation.

"Well, we only included you because Joan told us to," Frida calls from the audience.

"That's not true," he says.

Joan stands up. "Yes, it is. I thought you were an outcast. A loser girl like I used to be before I was frozen."

"I am, Joan," Topher says slowly, staring Joan right in the eyes. "A loser, that is, not a girl," he adds quickly.

Standing tall above her on the stage, glittery lips shimmering in the spotlight, Joan sees the rage inside Topher. The same rage she had all those years (weeks?) ago. He just wants to be loved. He just wants to be understood.

Harriet stands up too. "Your whole presentation is flawed because misandry doesn't exist."

"Even if it did, we still hate you the same amount whether you're a girl or a guy," Frida says.

"And your lipstick is busted," Cleo says. "Half of it isn't even on your lips."

The whole crowd cheers for Cleo, and then boos Topher off stage.

Scudworth runs up on stage, grabbing the microphone. "All remaining presentations will be deferred forever. You will be graded on a curve. Also, report to my office for mandatory lobotomies."

Abe pushes his way through the students trying to exit the auditorium, and spots Topher walking sadly to his locker. Abe starts to run to catch up with him, but Joan stops Topher in his tracks before he can get there.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't realize where you were coming from."

Topher scoffs. "Nobody does."

"I do." Joan takes Topher's hand in both of hers, and squeezes it. "I know the angst."

They keep walking down the hallway, hand in hand. Abe's eyes start to water. Topher checks over his shoulder, sees Abe and gasps. Abe gasps. Joan sees Topher gasping at Abe, and gasps also.

Who will have the last gasp? Find out next time* on a very special Clone High.