TWELVE

Maybe Uli thought the end of the world was coming. That would explain the stockpiles in his basement and the two giant rain barrels next to the house. Whatever he was thinking, the rainwater and his plastic-bottle irrigation system mean I can still save the heirlooms.

I push open the greenhouse doors, letting out a rush of hot air into the cool darkness. The tomato plants are growing fast. So is the corn. In just a few weeks, the little stalks have grown as tall as my hand.

The watering bucket is right by the door where I left it. On the way to the rain barrel, I spot the lettuce—an entire row of blue-green leaves, ready to eat. Uli showed me how to pick the outside leaves so that the middle of the plant keeps growing and goes to seed. I’ve been doing that, eating as I garden. I also took lots of peas and favas to Nikko because Dad wouldn’t want me bringing them home. But soon this garden will produce way more than Nikko’s family and I can eat.

As I fill each plastic water bottle, I think of Uli growing up in bombed-out cities, eating whatever he and his mom could scrounge. He would have hated food going to waste in his own garden.

That’s when I remember the soup kitchen. I smile as I hurry around with my bucket. The last thirsty bed is the spinach. Watering done, I find some plant pots and dig out a few of the big Scottish blue kale. I read online that kale doesn’t mind being transplanted. I hope that’s true, because I want to plant these in a place where I can look after them. I grab four potted tomato plants and the corn. Then I fill a bucket with ripe produce and push all of it out through the hedge onto the sidewalk, like an eat-your-veggies version of Robin Hood. I wish I could bring more, but I have to be realistic. It’ll be all I can do to ferry this load across the street without being spotted.

Nikko answers the door as soon as I knock. It’s late, but I saw from the street that his lights were still on.

“What happened to you?” he asks. I’ve stashed the plants and the veggie harvest in Dad’s tool shed. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do with them, but they’re safe for tonight. And I did the whole transfer without a soul finding out. I think. No one saw me from the street. No one was watching through the building windows, not even the cat. I met Estelle on the way in, but maybe she thought I was coming back from a walk.

Nikko frowns. “You’ve got dirt on your cheek and…cedar bits in your hair?” His eyes widen. He calls back into his apartment to say he’s going out. Then he lowers his voice. “Follow me.”

We hurry down the hall, past Estelle’s door, into the stairwell and up to the top floor. He points to the metal ladder that leads to the roof. “We can talk up there.”

I’ve been on a few rooftops in Montreal, windswept gardens above twenty-story buildings with a view from Mount Royal to the St. Lawrence. I’ve never been up here though. It never seemed worth the bother. What can you see from a little four-story building?

As my head pokes through the hatch, I look into a sea of stars. By the time I’m standing on the shingles, I feel like I’m in a wraparound movie theater, watching a documentary about constellations. Except this is real. And I’m here.

Nikko tiptoes to the far end. I follow. We sit in the darkness with the open hatch casting up a cozy glow. “The good thing about living in a building full of seniors,” he says, “is that no one ever uses the stairs anymore, never mind the ladder to the roof. No one knows we’re here.”

I decide right now that I’m not going to tell Sofia about this. She’ll turn it into a romantic adventure and will never believe me when I say I don’t feel romantic about Nikko at all. “I got into the garden,” I whisper.

He laughs. “Yeah. No kidding. The cedar in your hair gave it away.”

His fingers are warm and light on my scalp as he tries to get the tree bits out. (Definitely not telling Sofia about that either.) I tell him everything that’s happened today, from the conversation with Victor to my parents selling our house to me stealing plants. He listens and frowns in all the right places, but he’s silent until I say, “I got some produce for you to bring to the soup kitchen too.”

“Perfect. What have you got? And what does it taste like?”

“It’s blue lettuce, and it tastes like…well… lettuce. If I had the seed collection, I’d be able to tell you exactly where it came from.”

“Uli would be glad you didn’t let it go to waste,” Nikko says.

I’ve already told him we’ve got kale, corn and tomato plants in the shed. “But most of the plants, like the lettuce, can’t be transplanted once they’re in the ground. I’ll have to wait for them to go to seed.”

“But that’ll take months!” he says. “How will you get in to do the watering with Slater living next door and Estelle-the-Eye living across the street?”

It does sound crazy when he puts it that way. “Slater can’t see over the hedge from his house,” I offer. It’s the best I’ve got.

“But anyone on the street can see you breaking in.” He leans back on his hands and stretches out his long legs. “What if we could save the plants in a legal way? Involve the local media or get people in the neighborhood to sign a petition? Victor owns the local grocery store. He won’t want the whole neighborhood against him.”

“How do you come up with this stuff?”

“My parents are always writing letters,” he says. “To the newspaper, the mayor, the provincial government, you name it.”

I think about that for a moment, but it’s not going to work. “Uli said he refilled the water bottles every day in the summer, and it’s hot already. The plants could die while we’re gathering signatures.”

“Oh yeah. I guess that’s true,” he says. “But you know you’re going to get caught, right?”

I nod, even though I don’t want to. This was the moment where he was supposed to say, I’ll help you with the watering every few days, and after you’re gone, I’ll take over, watering, harvesting—

Who am I kidding? This whole thing is nuts, but it’s the only plan I’ve got so far. I have to go with it, because if the plants die now, it won’t matter how many amazing plans I come up with later on.

“I’ll help you plant the stuff you’ve already rescued,” Nikko says, “if you want.”

It’s a start.