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logged off, Jeri hadn’t found anything helpful. The next morning she told Rosa about Brooke’s episode in the restroom. “I’ve decided not to eat any food from the dorm kitchen from now on.”
    “Oh, that’s crazy,” Rosa said. “Brooke probably ate half a pizza instead of one piece and made herself sick from pigging out.”
    “Maybe,” Jeri admitted, remembering the rash and Brooke’s odd behavior.
Or maybe not.
    Once a week, the house mothers fixed a lip-smacking breakfast for any girl who wanted to eat in the dorm. Usually Jeri loved trooping downstairs in her pajamas to eat waffles or pancakes, but this Tuesday morning the aroma wafting up the stairs didn’t tempt her.
    “I’m eating at the dining hall,” Jeri reminded Rosa. “You coming?”
    “Are you nuts? I smell fresh coffee cake and banana bread!”
    “Don’t get sick then,” Jeri warned. “I’m not taking any chances.”
    “Talk about paranoid,” Rosa said, pulling on her bunny slippers.
    Ten minutes later in the noisy dining hall, after gobbling down some Frosted Flakes, Jeri headed to the greenhouse to interview Mr. Petrie. A gentle breeze blew as she strolled along sidewalks bordered by terra-cotta pots of impatiens and petunias. The carillon bells in the tower chimed as she skirted around a stand of white pine. The horse barn was on her far left, and then she passed the Sports Center. Lawn mowers zigzagged over the soccer field, and several high school girls jogged around the track. Jeri veered off the sidewalk and followed a white-rock path to the greenhouse.
    The outside reminded Jeri of a gardening store, with its bags of rock, mulch, and fertilizer stacked beside clay pots, shovels, and three wheelbarrows. She meandered through everything to step inside the huge shed-like room attached to the greenhouse. At first, the darkness blinded
    her, so she stopped a minute and breathed deeply the smells of wet dirt and mulch. Where did she know that smell from? For some reason, it put her right back in Iowa on her grandpa’s farm.
    “Hello?” Jeri called, peering around the dim room. No answer. Mr. Petrie must be out in the greenhouse part where he grew the plants.
    A scurrying noise to her left made her whirl around. She peered into the shadows. Was it mice? She shuddered. Or
rats?
A shadow darted from behind a clay pot, and tiny claws scritch-scratched across the cement floor. Jeri pivoted to run.
    Her elbow hit a rack of hoes and shovels, and several clattered to the cement floor. The clanging echoed and rang in her ears. She groped for the handles and stood them back up, and then worked her way to a door at the back.
Let me out of this cave!
    Beyond the door was a room full of light with walls made of glass or plastic. It was twenty degrees warmer, and Jeri unzipped her jacket. The sun pounding down on the clear roof turned the greenhouse into an oven. Sunlight shone on long rows of tables full of small potted plants. Baskets of ferns and ivy sprinkled by misters hung above her, and she felt the moisture.
    She moved away and called again. “Anybody here? Hello?”
    Mr. Petrie must be outside. Jeri started down an aisle of potted flowers she recognized from home: pansies,bachelor’s buttons, and marigolds. No wonder all the flower beds on campus were so colorful. The next aisle over contained vegetables she and her mom used to grow, like tomato plants and green peppers. She guessed the viney plants like cucumbers and melons were outside. The greenhouse grew more of the school’s food than she’d thought.
    Jeri glanced at her watch. If only Mr. Petrie were here. A good quote for her article was all she needed before heading to her first-period library class to write it up.
    She strolled up the last aisle and, without warning, stubbed her toe hard on something under the table. Jeri sucked in her breath and bent to see what she’d kicked.
    Underneath were various bags and boxes of plant food, insecticide for garden pests, and weed