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All three boys froze. Aaron tried to turn his cart.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Shopping.”

“For what?”

“School.”

One of the twins closed his eyes. I got out of the truck. The labels were visible from ten feet away. Concentrated peroxide. Potassium iodide. Large containers of dish detergent.

I looked at the boys. “Elephant toothpaste?”

Nobody answered.

“Where were you planning to do it?”

Aaron gripped the cart handle. “Science is universal.”

“Where?”

“The Fletchers have a large driveway.”

I rested my hands on my hips and stared up at the sky. Of course. They had escalated from signs and anonymous baskets to chemical demonstrations. “Return everything.”

“It’s not dangerous if you do it right,” one twin said.

“You are twelve.”

“Almost thirteen.”

“That does not qualify you to handle concentrated chemicals.”

“We watched tutorials,” one of them said.

“Online?”

“Yes.”

“From professionals?”

The hesitation answered the question. I walked to the first cart and removed a handwritten sign from beneath the gloves.

WELCOME TO BEAR COUNTRY DENTAL CARE

Another sign read:

EXTRA FOAM FOR EXTRA FANGS

I held them up. “This is your idea of harmless?”

“It’s funny,” Aaron muttered.

“To whom?”

They looked at one another.

I placed the signs back into the cart. “You were warned to stop targeting the Fletchers.”