“I have never seen a plant grow that fast. I mean, is that even normal?”

Marty had thought and thought about the seed, and every time he thought about it, his fingertips would tingle.

“I just don’t get it, that’s all…” Gracie fumbled in her pocket for her key. Marty watched her open the door, the vast hallway swinging into view.

Marty had been thinking about it, and she was right. It didn’t actually feel possible.

“It must be some hybrid or something. A quick-growing cross of two plants or something? I read about that in biology once. You can cross-plant, and they take on each other’s characteristics.”

Gracie looked unconvinced as she stood in the doorway.

“Can I tell you something?” She seemed suddenly serious.

Marty looked at her.

“Of course…”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise.”

“I felt really weird when I was near it. I dunno. It’s like I got really nervous or something.”

Marty’s skin prickled. Marty, of course, had felt exactly the same. He frowned. It made no sense.

“Did you feel it?” She was facing him now, but Marty looked away.

“It must be because we don’t know what it is”—he was pulling up excuses now from deep down. “Sometimes, things take on a magic or something because they’re mysterious, but they’re normal. It’s all normal. It’s just in our heads.”

Gracie frowned.

“Do you really believe that?”

Marty shrugged.

Gracie looked at him hesitantly.

“Want to come in?” she offered. “Dad’s out. We could watch some TV.”

Marty shook his head from force of habit more than anything.

“I’m all right,” he answered, and looked toward the allotment. “I’d better get back.”

Gracie shrugged.

“Okay.”

Marty smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Gracie replied, and closed the heavy door. Marty turned and stood for a moment. In the distance, he could see Grandad still puttering around. His hat on his head and the enormous plant unfurling itself in the late light.

NINE

“MARTY, MARTY, MARTY! In my room, please!”

Marty stopped dead in the corridor, so that his sneakers squeaked on the floor. It was Mr. Garraway, the school counselor. He was a huge, bearlike Scottish man with red hair and a penchant for shiny, tight tracksuits. He taught PE and health and well-being, and talked very, very quickly about very, very embarrassing things. He was hanging by one arm from the doorframe of his classroom. Marty looked back along the corridor where Gracie stood waiting for him. Mr. Garraway could sense Marty’s desire to escape. This was why he was so dangerous. He had an uncanny knack of knowing what you were thinking.

“Come on, come on, come on. Won’t be long, sonny.”