“This is my last one,” Timmy said, nodding to the bark beer the waitress had neatly set in front of him.

“Last one? So delicate! What are you, a butterfly?” chided Tony, incredulously. “Hey man, we might never see you again. We gotta party, old-school, like we used to three weeks ago. Remember that, brothers?”

Four of the five friends started roughly rubbing their legs together, whooping all the while, sounding like a drunk symphony. Timmy held his wing over his face as the waitress fluttered by. I know we’re grasshoppers, he thought, but come on.

“You guys are acting like crickets,” Timmy chastised. Tony spit out the sugary syrup he was dandelion-funneling and started to come at Timmy, but stumbled and burst into laughter before he could connect.

“Listen, we’re just trying to get our time in before your big journey. I know, I know, you have to rest up for the big day. Let me just say one thing. We will miss you, man.” Tony climbed up onto the twig table and extended his gossamer wings. “On behalf of Alpha Caelifera, we wish you all the best.”

He lifted his mug and stumbled backward, landing in the welcoming wings of two of his brothers. Timmy stood up, gave a mock salute with his front leg, held his antennae half-mast and head out the door.

Timmy started toward the grassy knoll he had called home the past six months, but took a right instead and kept hopping. He tried to traverse the plain to a tune in his head to make the start of his journey more pleasant, but his mind kept returning to his friends’ obsessions. No grasshopper had gone beyond the wall before, they told him, and for good reason. It was filled with giant birds, shifty snakes, bumbling dormice, and worst of all, humans. But Timmy felt no fear, only fascination for the world he was about to see. It’s fate, he thought. Even if only for a few minutes, he’d get to see so much more of the world he was born into. All his life, he’d only heard tall tales of what was beyond and now it would be real. He’d finally get to see a bed of roses and if there was time, he’d get to try a few. Lush grass dotted with sweet basil and cherry tomatoes. Majestic monarchs and scintillating katydids. As his mind wandered along the wonders that lay before him, he had finally shaken any shred terror and felt only excitement.

Timmy was at the wall in no time. He’d been this close before and knew it would be less of a feat than it seemed to cross it. The thick chain’s holes were big enough for a family of daddy long legs to walk through, and they did, often. With a couple short jumps, he was on and through a link to the other side.

He landed sharply on all six feet, exhaled, and looked around. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, but so far, he felt nothing. By the light of the moon, he saw what lay beyond, which looked to be more of the same. The yard was quiet except for a few crickets chirping. Can’t get away from them, I guess, Timmy thought. A willow swayed in the distance, the same one he watched from his shrub when he was a kid. He’d stand erect, his midlegs clasped together in anticipation of catching a villainous owl dart down for his prey. Now that he was a part of the movie, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in the dullness of his debut.

The grass felt a little thicker, but half as long. He passed an imprint that he remembered from school belonged to the paw of a housecat. Glad I won’t be meeting her, he thought. Timmy rubbed his antennae along the blades of grass and lay down for a few seconds. He closed his eyes and instinctively started to slide his hind legs against one another. He almost started to drift off when he heard a rustle near the wall. He perked up and shot his head back, his eyes round and wide, toward the place from where he came. For a moment, he’d almost forgot why he was here. The air does smell a little sweeter over here, Timmy thought.

His final destination was only a few yards away, so he moved as slowly as his body would allow. Long loping strides finally brought him to the edge of the sharp grass. It collided roughly with a cold, porous plane of concrete.

Timmy hopped a few feet to the last unnatural structure. He inched up the slick, gray metal to the narrow white plank it supported. In seconds, he was standing on the edge, looking down at the still, sparkling pool below. He’d hoped he might never come here. He’d hoped by now he would be able to talk himself out of it. And now, he only hoped he might enjoy looking a moment more at the glistening calm beneath him. But his hopes escaped him, floating away like dandelion fuzz in the evening breeze. As he plummeted to the pool, he cursed the hairworm who crawled inside him and made him do it.

Tick tock, tick tock. Stop ticking, you clock! I’ve never needed more than an hour for a test before. I cannot believe this is happening to me.

I’m quite the genius, you see. I’m taking Course One math in only grade three. Never a check mark or wrong answer all year long. Straight one hundreds. Only A pluses. And for my final exam, I predicted perfection. I called it like that old timey baseball player, told my teacher I’d ace it for sure. I zipped and zoomed my way through in a jiffy, almost to the end, until I hit a snag on the penultimate problem. I finish the last one, no big deal, but shuffle back to get stuck yet again. A tough cookie, a real zinger, an algebraic enigma. I just couldn’t figure it. Something about Ray and what he buys on grocery day. Hot dogs and hamburgers, however many per which. I think my brain is starting to twitch. I’ve got to get in there and give it a fix.

My brain is full of files. Tidy, shiny pocket folders lining the narrow hallways, like a longhouse made of cards. I’m looking and looking for the one with Ray, emptying their contents cartoonishly, arms and papers flailing every which way. I work my way down each hallway, still empty handed and looking over my shoulder at the mess I have made. I should clean it up, I think, but then I can feel the quake of the ticking and tocking. My time is running out. At the end of a hallway, I find a green file in an upside-down V, like a teepee. Underneath is a lamp, like the one from the movie. Aladdin, I think it was. Open, says me, and all that jazz. I give it a rub and out he swizzles. He doesn’t need to say a word, I tell him, I know the drill. And by the way, I only need one. Genie, how many hamburgers?

He swizzles my way and holds his green fuzzy hands up to his face and whispers. Forty four.

I toss the lamp back under its teepee and make a break for it, slipping on the mess I have left all along the way. I dive forward and slide out of my brain, back to the test. Forty four hamburgers. Pencil down, hand up. I’m still the first one to finish.