"Allen..." He parrots. "I'm Cielo, o'de Embryon Tribe. From de Junkyard."

Cielo's eyes go a little wide at the explanation. He's never actually heard most of those words, yet he still sort of understood what they meant. People of the Junkyard have a very special sort of memory. Much akin to Swiss cheese. With extra holes.

Math was numbers right?

"I don tink I gwonna be doin to good on dis test... Heh..."