Quackyprep -

Class began. Beaker had carved tiny numbers into the mud—equations for leap distance. He’d dissected a dragonfly wing to show lift ratios. For math, they counted mosquito larvae in groups of twelve. For history, they traced the Great Flood of ‘03 and its impact on cattail distribution. For ethics, they debated the morality of stealing a worm from a robin (a surprisingly heated debate that ended with Gerald promising to ask before inhaling).

It wasn't a normal egg. It was the size of a small melon, with a shell that shimmered like oil on water. And when it cracked, it didn’t just crack—it detonated with a soft FOOM , sending shockwaves across the lily pads. From the golden goo inside rose a duckling. But this was no ordinary duckling.

“Because,” Beaker said, “someone had to stay grounded enough to build the runway.” quackyprep

Gerald blinked. He’d never been analyzed before.

That was the first day of .

But Beaker’s most challenging student was a young, insecure firefly named Glimmer. Glimmer could light up, but her timing was erratic. She’d flash three times when she meant to flash twice, sending confused signals across the bog.

“True,” Beaker said softly.

He looked at the frogs, the turtles, and the startled heron. He took a breath, fluffed his downy chest, and said, “The curriculum here is abysmal.”