Harry Hammer enters a school dance contest in hopes of winning a fin-tastic prize in this sixth Shark School (mis)adventure. Everyone in Shark Point is talking about the end-of-the-year school party. There’s a dance contest with a super-cool Fintendo DS game system up for grabs! Harry’s got his eye on the prize, but he needs someone to help him with his moves...especially when number one enemy Rick Reef enters the contest. Can Harry get into his groove and beat the competition? Davy Ocean is the pseudonym of a collective of writers from the creative agency Hothouse Fiction, based in London. Aaron Blecha is an artist and author who designs funny characters and illustrates humorous books. His work includes the Shark School series and Goodnight, Grizzle Grump ! . Originally from Wisconsin, Aaron now lives with his family by the south English seaside. Splash Dance “Moooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Stop it! It’s breakfast time. I want to eat my breakfast. I want to enjoy my breakfast. I don’t want to talk about exams! I want to concentrate on breakfast. Are you trying to give me fin-digestion before I even start eating?” I don’t think Mom is listening. She’s swimming around the kitchen, preparing breakfast on autopilot—slooooooooooooow autopilot. There are kelp krispies popping and crackling in a bowl as they turn soggy (and kelp krispies are awful when they’re mushy). And she hasn’t even put the crab Pop-Tarts in the toaster yet! All she’s interested in doing is going on and on about the Quay Stage 2 exams I have to take next month at school. “Well, Harry, I know studying isn’t your favorite pastime,” Mom says for the third time as she swims right past the Pop-Tarts, “but it really is important . . .” In my head I’m yawning. It’s a BIG yawn. Not as big as the hungry hole in my tummy, but it’s close. Dad is no help at all. He’s got his hammer head stuck in today’s Seaweed Times, scanning the pages to see if there’s anything about him. Dad’s Mayor of Shark Point, and usually there’s a picture of him in the paper, opening a new building, or kissing a newspawn, or standing next to an important visitor from another reef. He likes to cut the stories out and put them up on the wall of his office. Today he doesn’t seem to have found anything about himself. This always makes him grumpy. “Dad,” I say, “could you pass my kelp krispies, ple—?” “Not one picture!” Dad slaps a fin against the paper. “I had a dozen photos taken yesterday and not a single one has made it into the paper. It’s like I don’t exist!” Dad does like to exaggerate when he gets upset. I’ve got to do something RIGHT NOW, so that: 1. Mom stops talking about exams. 2. Dad stops talking about himself. 3. My breakfast moves from the counter to my mouth before the rumbling in my tummy causes a seaquake! And then I see it. As Dad grumpily holds up the newspaper, I see an ad for the new Fintendo SeaWii-DS on the back. Oh, WOW! All the hunger is pushed from my tummy as I fin up close to the back page. Dad is still huffing and muttering behind it, but I don’t care. I’m too busy looking at the ad for the ultra-new fin-held game console, with SeaWii-DS graphics and Super Snapper Races 8. And it’s out today. I WANT ONE!!!! “Now, about this studying . . .,” Mom says, finally putting the crab tarts in the toaster. But I’m not listening, I’m reading all the mouthwatering specs in the ad: 1. SeaWii-DS Screen! 2. Depth-Charge Slider! 3. Circle Pad Canalog Control! 4. WiFi-sh Communication! 5. TONS OF OTHER GREAT THINGS THAT I DON’T REALLY UNDERSTAND BUT ARE PROBABLY THE BEST THINGS EVER IN THE FISHTORY OF THE SEAVERSE!!! It all looks so cool. “Mom!” I say, stabbing my fin so hard into the newspaper it goes right through and plonks Dad on the hammer. “Can I have one of these? Please, please? Pretty please with a side order of please?” Dad looks at me angrily through the hole in the paper, and Mom catches the two crab tarts as they pop out of the toaster. “No!” they both say at exactly the same time, like they’ve been practicing. “Why?” I ask, cutting around the ad with my fin so that I can stick it on my wall. “Because it’s bad for you,” Mom says, finally bringing my breakfast over. BAD FOR ME?! I stare at her so hard my eyes nearly pop out of my hammer. What is wrong with her? How can something so good be bad?! “You should be out playing with your friends, not stuck at home playing a silly computer game,” Mom continues. SILLY?! I’m starting to think Mom might actually have gone crazy. “But, Mom, I’d have way more friends to play with if I had one of these. I’d be the most popular shark in Shark Point!” But Mom just shakes her head. “There’s no way I’m changing my mind, Harry. Anyway, you should be concentrating on your studying at the moment.” I can’t believe she’s being so mean! I’m her son. Her only son. Doesn’t my happiness mean anything to her? “I have rights, you know!” I say, puffing