Page 124 of Finn Rhodes Forever

She made eye contact with me and pointed at one of the kids.

“Oh, shit,” I snorted, shaking with laughter.

To the complete unawareness of the teacher or chaperones, one of the kids dragged an empty box—the box—behind him by the lid.

Liv covered her mouth, doubled over with laughter.

“No, no, no,” I said, smothering my own chuckles. “We have to find them.”

A loud, blood-curdling shriek rang out, echoing throughout town hall, and we froze.

“Was that Emmett?” she whispered.

“Come on.” I pulled her in the direction of the shriek—the same direction as Emmett’s office.

We hustled down the hallway, and when we turned the corner, Emmett cowered at the end of the hall, clutching his sandwich to his chest, dry heaving.

Five small turtles advanced on him, inching forward at a glacial pace.

“Oh my god.” Liv’s hand came to her mouth.

“Those kids brought them into my office.” Emmett tried to climb onto the windowsill, eyes wide with terror as he watched the turtles crawl. He gagged again. “I escaped but they followed me. I’m going to puke.”

Liv was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her laughing mademelaugh, and soon the two of us were doubled over, slapping each other and holding on to each other for support as Emmett dry heaved.

“They’re predators. They smell my blood!” Emmett’s voice had taken on a delirious edge. His eyes darted to us then back to the turtles. “Stop laughing.”

“They smell your food,” I called back, wiping my eyes. “Step over them.”

Emmett glared at the one in the front. “I recognize her. That one’s Sara Beth. She wants revenge!”

Liv let out another peal of laughter. “I’m going to pee,” she wheezed.

A small group of people was gathering behind us, watching the spectacle.

“Emmett, come on.” I gestured to him. “You’re going to make Liv pee herself.”

Emmett’s gaze flicked to the red fire alarm on the wall. He clutched his stomach. “I’m going to pull the fire alarm.”

“No,” Liv and I yelled in unison, laughing even harder.

My abs hurt from laughing. “Don’t do that. That’s not going to help.”

“What’s going on?” Div asked behind us. He saw Emmett and rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. How did those get in here? We have a policy.” He sighed and turned around. “Can we get a box, please?”

“I’m going to do it,” Emmett yelled, nostrils flaring as his gaze jumped between the turtles five feet away and the fire alarm. He slid an inch over on the windowsill. “I’m getting closer.” His stomach heaved.

One turtle paused, lagging behind, and Emmett stiffened.

“That’s one’s going to jump,” he said, pointing at the small one at the back of the pack.

“Emmett,” I called, shaking my head, trying not to laugh. “It’s not going to jump. That one’s probably tired.”

“Alright, take a deep breath,” Div said, breezing past us with a cardboard box. He scooped the turtles up with impressive efficiency before snapping the lid closed and handing it over to me. “Can you deal with that, please?”

Liv and I winced at him. “Sorry, Div,” I told him.

“It’s fine.” He gestured at the box. “But please, get them out of here. Now.”

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