Duckquackprep ((top)) File

“You’re saying these kids are learning to quack snail coordinates.”

She pointed west, toward the distant glitter of the Hudson River. “There’s a wildlife rehab center in Cold Spring. They have an injured female wood duck who forgot her migration map. I can reteach her the Long-Distance Zee Call in a weekend. That’s a real education.”

Wetherby sputtered about contracts and pedagogical integrity. But Carter was already pulling out his car keys. He looked at Eloise, then at the forty-six other children still frozen mid-drill, still waiting for permission to be brilliant.

Then she opened her mouth and unleashed the full Subsonic Mating Resonance —not just the wah-wah, but the deep, chest-rattling undertone that Carter felt in his molars.