When Harry Hammer decides to leave Shark Point for better waters, he finds squid-tastic trouble instead in this Shark School (mis)adventure. Instead of a super-cool celebration, Harry Hammer’s birthday party turns into a super-colossal embarrassment! Why do his parents always make him feel like a big baby hammerhead in front of his friends—and his arch rival, Rick Reef? Harry decides he’d be better off alone and leaves Shark Point for faraway waters. But he comes face-to-face with a giant squid who hasn’t had his lunch yet! Uh-oh…is the birthday boy on the menu? 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. Squid-napped! Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! I’m floating at the side of Turbo Terry’s Turtle-kart Track as the turtle-karts whiz past. It’s making my hammerhead eyes go double goggly. “Don’t look at me like that!’ says Rick Reef, who is floating next to me. The pointy-faced reef shark (who is my number one enemy) waits until everyone is looking the other way, then pings the side of my head with the edge of his fin. “Hey-y-y-y-y-y-y! I can’t help looking at you like that,” I say, trying to stop my hammer from flubbering. “I have eyes on each side of my head! I look at everything-whether I want to or not. And in your case it’s definitely not.” Rick pulls up the collar on his leather jacket. He always does this when he wants to look tough. “Yeah, but you don’t have to be so starey about it.” “It’s the turtle-karts. They’re going so fast, they’re making my eyes all weird.” Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! Three more turtle-karts zoom around the bend, their flippers whizzing like speedboat propellers and the electric eels underneath zapping up extra power for speed. Riders are hanging on to the turtle’s backs with their fins or tentacles, all wearing brightly colored crash helmets with cool dragonfish or super squid cartoons on the side. I have to admit that this trip to Turbo Terry’s Turtle-kart Track could have been really fantastic, if it hadn’t been for five rotten things. . . . 1. It’s my birthday. I hate my birthday. (No, really, I do. You’ll see why later.) 2. Mom and Dad have taken us all to the turtle-kart track. (You think that’s good? Think again, because . . . ) 3. Mom and Dad are staying to watch! (How uncool is that? So uncool you can make hot sea-cucumber kebabs out of it.) 4. Everyone is noticing Dad because he’s the mayor of Shark Point and he’s telling everyone it’s his number one son’s birthday! (Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! Don’t!) 5. And worst of all, Dad thought it was a good idea to invite my whole class–including Rick Reef (number one enemy) and Donny Dogfish (number one enemy’s sidekick and general pain in the tail). I did try to persuade Dad that Rick and Donny shouldn’t come turtle-karting-in fact I’ve done nothing but try to persuade Dad ever since the invitations went out. Even this morning, when we were getting ready to leave, I tried again. But Dad was having none of it. “As mayor of Shark Point, I want everyone to get along,” he said. “I know you and Rick don’t see eye to eye, but maybe bringing him along today will be the start of a beautiful friendship.” Why do grown-ups say such weird things? There’s nothing beautiful or friendly about someone who wants to flubber your head all the time. FLUBBERRRRRRRR!!!!!! See? He’s done it again! This time Rick pings my head so hard, my best friends Ralph and Joe have to grab hold of each side of the hammer to stop it from flubbering. Rick and Donny swim off toward the turtle-kart pits, snorting with laughter. It’s nearly time for our session on the track to begin, but I’m really not in the mood now. I sigh loudly-so loud it makes a passing school of sardines dive for cover. Why did I have to be born a hammerhead? Why couldn’t I have been born a great white like my all-time hero Gregor the Gnasher? No one would make Gregor the Gnasher’s head TWANG like a ruler on the side of a school desk-not without getting their bottom bitten off, anyway. Gregor is the bravest, strongest shark who has ever lived. Not only is he Underwater Wrestling Champion of the world, but he’s also a movie star and the number-onemost-photographed-shark-under-the-sea. Three years in a row. Ralph puts his fin on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Harry, just wait till we’re in the