We’re still in the afterglow of confessions when a kid in the back shoots his hand up. “If you guys have pets, you should meet Yurtle!”
Reid’s head tips with slow suspicion. “Who’s Yurtle?”
“Our class pet!” another pipes up. “A turtle!”
Immediately, the chant starts.Yurtle! Yurtle! Yurtle!Thirty voices pounding in rhythm against the desks.
Reid stiffens beside me. “Uhhh. No. No, thank you.”
But it’s too late. A girl is already hurrying to the tank in the corner, lifting out a lump of shell and claws with both hands. She carries it forward, raising him high in the air to present him, before placing him on Lulu’s desk.
Reid doesn’t even try to hide the way he sharply takes a step back. “What the hell is that?”
The class shrieks with delight.
“It’s just Yurtle!”
“He’s friendly!”
“He likes lettuce!”
The turtle moves approximately half an inch, its wrinkled neck extending just enough to blink at him.
Reid freezes. “That thing’s looking at me.”
“It’s a turtle,” I wheeze, doubling over. “It barely has eyelids.”
“Don’t talk about its eyelids, Miller, unless you don’t want any either.”
He shifts another step back, as if Yurtle might launch across the room at warp speed.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Hutchison,” Lulu says sweetly, eyes glittering, though her voice stays professional, “Yurtle only bites sometimes.”
That tips the kids straight into hysteria, one boy slapping his desk. “He’s scared of a turtle!”
“Yurtle just wants to be friends!” another girl croons.
Even the PTA, who’ve barely cracked a smile all day, are giggling into their manicures.
Reid continues standing stock still, staring at Yurtle as if he’s facing down a live grenade.
“Tell me it goes back in the tank now,” he mutters.
“Not until you pet him!” someone dares.
His glare could shatter glass. “I don’t pet things with retractable limbs.”
I’m useless, tears streaming down my face, gripping the edge of Lulu’s desk for balance. “You’ve survived slapshots to the mask, but a turtle’s”—I lift it up gently and hold him out toward Hutchy—“your breaking point.”
Yurtle blinks again, ancient and unbothered, and Reid actually lets out a high-pitched shriek and takes another wide step back toward the door.
Lulu manages to compose herself long enough to clap her hands, warm as ever. “Alright class, let’s put Yurtle back before Mr. Hutchison retires early.”
The room detonates with laughter as the little girl picks the turtle back up gently. Reid’s eyes track her every move as she walks past him and back toward the tank.
Best day of my fucking life.
The final minutes tick down, and the kids are restless in their seats. Lulu, ever the professional, claps her hands once. “Alright, class. Before the bell, what do we say to our guests?”
