Fine, the Drama Police called, and they said maybe I’m not a goner, but I won’t get a tart, which is pretty much the same thing. My blood sugar is low.

Finn made a gurgling noise from his throat that didn’t sound exactly like choking, but then again, I’d never seen anyone being poisoned before. I was standing over him, ready to do CPR, when I noticed that he wasn’t choking; he was laughing.

I pictured myself falling off and getting trampled to death. Caroline would be beyond embarrassed, but I wouldn’t care because I’d be dead, and Ellie would have her fill of blood and guts until the sequel to Bloodsucking Zombies was released.

The boat floated down the indoor river toward fog and screams. It got darker, and Ellie said, “I think I just tinkled.” Gordo, who was sitting next to her, said, “No, baby doll. I think that was me.

Josh, Topher, and Charlie walked in, each carrying a pizza box. The kitchen instantly filled with the smells of boys, sweat, and garlic.

Quel Dommage!” That was “bummer” in French, or maybe “too bad,” or “scrambled eggs.

We high-fived by tapping our Twizzlers together. We’d come up with a million different ways to high-five without using our palms.

Things were getting more un-boring by the minute. Maybe a little too de-bored-ified.

Sam picked up his hand-phone and looked at Ellie. “It’s the Shut Your Piehole Factory; they want to talk to you,” he said.