Vivian grabbed my hand. “They know we’re on the ship,” she said, panic gripping her vocal chords. “Let’s get out of here and figure out what to do next.” We nonchalantly walked out the Olfactory Bulb so as not to draw any unwanted attention and disappeared down the hall. “What are we supposed to ...
Where’s Dr. Wackjöb?” Jimmy wondered, looking at his watch. “We all agreed to meet in front of the Nostril at six forty-five a.m. sharp. He’s already ten minutes late.” Everyone milled around Jimmy’s backyard, anxious for our trip to New York. Mumps carried a big Denmark High School duffel bag. T...