“Too small to do you any good, I imagine. But think about the things you do eat.

Plain fruits and vegetables. Plants that have grown in the ground and sucked up all those nutrients through their roots. You eat them and get the same nutrients as if you had roots and could get them yourself.”

Laurel was quiet for several seconds as Mr. James began calling the class to order. “So you still think I’m a plant?” Laurel asked in a whisper.

“An incredibly evolved, highly advanced plant,” David replied. “But yes, a plant.”

“That sucks.”

“I don’t know,” David said with a grin. “I think it’s kind of cool.”

“You would; you’re the science geek. I’m the girl who just wants to get through gym class without being stared at.”

“Fine,” David persisted. “I’ll think it’s cool for the both of us.”

Laurel snorted and caught Mr. James’s attention.

“Laurel, David? Would you like to share the joke with the rest of the class?” he asked, one hand on his skinny hip.

“No, sir,” David said. “But thank you for asking.” The students around them laughed, but Mr. James didn’t look pleased. Laurel leaned back and grinned.

David, one. Teacher who wishes he was as smart as David? Zero.

On Saturday, Laurel and David met at David’s house to “study.” David showed her an article he had found online about how plants absorb carbon dioxide through their leaves. “What about you?” he asked. She was sitting on his bed with her petals unwrapped and turned toward his western window where they could absorb the sunlight. It was just one of the many advantages of “studying”

in David’s empty house after school nearly every day. David even made a valiant effort not to stare—though Laurel wasn’t sure whether he was stealing glances at her petals or her bare midriff.

Either way, she didn’t mind.

“Well, I don’t have leaves—except the little tiny ones under the petals. Yet,” she added cryptically.

“Not technically, but I think your skin probably counts.”

“Why? Is it looking a little green these days?” she asked, then clamped her mouth shut. The thought of turning green made her think of Tamani and his green hair. She didn’t want to think about him. It was too confusing. And it seemed unfair to think about him while she was with David. Disloyal, in a strange way. She saved those thoughts for nighttime, just as she was about to fall asleep.

“Not all leaves are green,” David rattled on, without noticing. “In most plants, the leaves are the largest outer surface, and on you that would be your skin. So maybe you absorb carbon dioxide through your skin.” He blushed. “You do like wearing tank tops even when it’s cold.”

Laurel stirred her Sprite with her straw. “Then why do I breathe? I do breathe, you know,” she said pointedly.

“But do you have to?”

“What do you mean do I have to? Of course I have to.”

“I don’t think you do. Not the way I have to, anyway. Or at least not as frequently. How long can you hold your breath?”

She shrugged. “Long enough.”

“Come on, you’ve been swimming—you must have some idea. A rough estimate,” he pressed, when she shook her head.

“I just come up when I’m done being underwater. I don’t go under a lot, anyway.

Just to get my hair wet, so I don’t know.”

David grinned and pointed to his watch. “Shall we find out?”

Laurel eyed him for a few seconds, then pushed her soda away and leaned forward, poking David in the chest with a grin. “I’m tired of being experimented on. Let’s see how long you can hold your breath.”

“Fair enough, but you go next.”

“Deal.”

David took several deep breaths and when Laurel said go, he sucked in a lungful of air and leaned back in his chair. He lasted fifty-two red-faced seconds before the air whooshed out of him and it was Laurel’s turn.

“No laughing,” she warned. “You’re probably going to blow me away.”

“I highly doubt it.” He smirked with the same confidence he always had when he was sure he was right.

Laurel took a deep breath and leaned back on David’s pillows. He started the timer with a soft beep.

It unnerved her to look at his self-assured smile as the seconds ticked by, so she turned to the window instead. She watched a bird fly against the pale blue sky till it soared out of sight over a hill.

With nothing else interesting to look at, she began paying attention to her chest.

It was starting to get uncomfortable. She waited a little while longer, decided she didn’t like the sensation, and let her air out. “There. What’s the verdict?”

David looked at his watch. “Did you hold your breath as long as you could?”

“As long as I wanted to.”

“That’s not the same thing. Could you have gone longer?”

“Probably, but it was getting uncomfortable.”

“How much longer?”

“I don’t know,” she said, flustered now. “How long did I last?”

“Three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”

It took a moment for the numbers to sink in. She sat up. “Did you let me win?”

“Nope. You just proved my theory.”

Laurel looked at her arm. “A leaf? Really?”