Ricky sat on the couch with the controller in his hand, slaying zombies for what seemed like forever. His dad had come in once to check on him, but he hadn’t tried to get him to play outside. Mom and Dad used to practically shove him out to the yard to play, even on the coldest days, but now they hardly let him set foot out the door.

They were nervous about the trees. Everybody was, even Grampa Nystrom, who was supposed to know everything about them. He was trying really hard not to be mad at Grampa anymore, even though it still wasn’t fair that he got to go out to the Palalla Reservation without him.

He threw down the remote. He was sick of this game, and sick of all these grownups telling him what to do. They said the trees had started hurting people, but really they only hurt people who were hurting them. He never got to use the machine to talk to them anymore, because Grampa was too busy with that other scientist lady and everybody else. Well, the trees were his friends first, and he was going to see them whenever he wanted.

Ricky put the game on demo mode so it would keep making noise. He looked around for a sweater and some shoes to put on, but unfortunately someone had cleaned up. He’d have to sneak by his parents to get the coat and boots he’d left by the front door. He tiptoed down the hall, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor, until he finally reached the entrance to the kitchen. His parents were talking over the drone of the news.

“The NSA?” he heard his mother say. “They’re being called to testify on this?”

“Holy shit,” said his dad.

Ricky clamped his hand over his grin. He went down on his hands and knees and peeked around the corner.

“What’s ArborTech?” his father asked. “One of those GMO companies?”

“Yeah,” said his mom. “They’re like Monsanto, but they specialize in trees.”

His parents had their backs to the hallway, watching the news on a laptop. They said no to getting a TV for the kitchen, but they were always watching something on their laptops. Grownups.

“Really? Frankentrees?” said his father. “How is it we’re just now hearing about this?”

“Apparently, it’s been going on for quite a while now,” answered his mother.

“Hmm. Well, they’re in front of Congress now. Some senator’s gonna rip ‘em a new one.”

A new what? wondered Ricky, crawling by the kitchen.

“Wait, did you hear something?” asked his mother. Ricky froze and held his breath. The newscast floated out of the kitchen, mingling with the sounds of his game on demo mode. His parents were quiet, and Ricky wondered how long it would take before his lungs burst.

“I don’t think it was anything,” said his dad finally. “Maybe you’re just feeling a little jumpy.”

“Me? Who just bought a chain saw?”

“I had to, Marla. It was the last one on the shelf.”

“But have you ever used one?” she asked. “And what if Ricky finds it? He’ll cut his fingers off.”

“No, he won’t. He doesn’t even know where it is.”

Ricky listened in a little longer, to see if his father would mention where it was. He’d always thought chainsaws were pretty cool. He wasn’t quite as excited about them now that he’d met the trees, but still, he’d kind of like to see one up close.

His parents moved on to other topics, however, so he crept toward the front door. He slipped into his boots and stood on tiptoe to reach the extra house key on its hook. Once outside, he eased the door shut, wincing at the soft click of the latch. Only then did he dare put an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. His mom seemed to be able to hear him putting his coat on from anywhere in the house.

Now that he was outside, he wished he had gone to the bathroom first. He’d never had to think about it before, really. Even if he were too far from home and desperate, well, it didn’t matter because he was a boy. But now that he actually knew the trees, and they knew him, and especially now that they could talk, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of peeing all over his friends, or even between his friends. But maybe it was just like the school bathrooms. Except the trees weren’t going there to pee too, so it would be more like peeing between the desks in class, or like peeing at the edge of the playground at recess. And the more he thought about it, the more he had to pee.

Grampa had the machine with him, so he couldn’t even ask the trees what they thought about it. This must happen all the time in the forest, so why hadn’t anyone thought to ask them yet? That was the whole problem with grownups, he thought, storming around the side of the house and into the woods. They made all these rules about you, for you, without even asking you what you really wanted in the first place.