During circle time at preschool, Kayla noticed something tiny by the reading rug. A little turtle was sitting perfectly still.
Just before clean-up, Kayla scooped it up and slipped it into her pocket. Her heart beat fast. "Mine now," she whispered.
At home, Kayla set the turtle on the kitchen floor. It didn't move at all. It just stared at a crumb.
She tickled its belly with a crayon. The turtle pulled its legs inside its shell with a quick little shake.
She hummed a loud song. The turtle closed its eyes. She bounced it gently on her knee — boing boing boing — and it tumbled into a potted plant.
Kayla filled a shallow bowl with water and lowered the turtle inside. Its legs started paddling — wiggle, paddle, wiggle — and it swam in happy circles.
The turtle hopped right out of the bowl and waddled toward the living room rug. Kayla chased it — but it ducked under the couch.
Kayla peeked under the couch. The turtle was gone. Instead, a dust bunny the size of a bread roll sat there. She gasped.
Kayla crawled out and followed tiny scratch marks across the floor, under the coffee table, past the fridge.
The scratch marks led straight to the front door. The doorknob was turning by itself. Kayla grabbed the door just as it swung open.
The turtle was pressed right against her sneaker, waiting. She picked it up gently. This time it didn't pull away.
It rested its tiny head against her thumb. Kayla smiled and thought: You're coming home with me.
The next morning, Kayla carried the turtle back to preschool and placed it beside the reading rug where she had found it.
The turtle stretched its legs and looked at her. Kayla sat down and waved. It blinked slowly. From that day on, it always waited there for her.