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follow—”
    “Won't do any good,” Gaby declared from the back. “He's cursed.”
    “Cursed?”
    “Haunted by a ghost,” Gaby explained loudly while we tried to shush her. “And it serves him right.”
    “He tried to kill my worm,” Ro spoke up.
    “Ghosts? Nonsense!” Mr. K. snorted. “That's the trouble with kids today. Too much imagination.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    No bees, no broken bones, no poison ivy
, I sang silently all the way to the garden show.
No questions from Mr. K. No bad business for Mama.
    Those words sang through my mind while we unloaded Mama's signs and spades and Ro's stinky worm.
    But when we stumbled through the convention center door, my singing suddenly stopped.
    “A-ma-zing,” murmured Reuben.
    An indoor garden spread before me. The scene was as pretty as one of Mama's magazines. Bright as Oz in the movie.
    I stared. The garden stretching over the huge floor was actually made up of many little gardens. Like Rooter's, but without weeds. Pansies lined teeny lawns as smooth as green felt. Lilies raised high their trumpet flowers. Fountains trickled and tinkled a watery music. No waterfalls, though, probably due to the drought.
    Everything was lined up just so, the way Mr. K. liked his plot. But the old man snorted when he read the sign on a gleaming bench. FOR DISPLAY ONLY. “Fancy-pants garden,” he barked. “No place to sit.”
    “Come help me set up.” Mama took his arm kindly. “You can man my booth.”
    Though small, Mama's booth managed to look “festive” (her word) once we set out the spades and hung the Green Thumb signs. Reuben arranged Mama's business cards on a table.
    “Those yellow roses sure catch the eye.” Mr. K. nodded at the vase beside them.
    We lined up across the front of the booth, ready for business. Gaby smoothed Ro's hair.“Keep the lid on that worm,” she advised. “Or the stink will drive off customers.”
    “My worm's gonna help.” Ro smiled serenely.
    Mama surveyed our line. “Could be there's more helpers than booth space. Why don't you take turns?”
    Of course, Gaby, Ro, and the worm disappeared immediately, with Juana in pursuit. Reuben wandered off to sketch; Mr. K. had to hunt down the bathroom. Finally, Mama asked if she could attend a class on arranging cattails.
    “Go,” I said.
    And that's how I found myself an hour later, the only man manning the booth.
    I leaned back in the metal chair. Ah, I felt as fine as a big-shot business guy. I chatted to the lady in the next booth, who gave me a tulip-shaped pot holder. I straightened Mama's business cards. This time the next day, the haunted rose twig would be back in its proper place. No more trouble. “You look great,” I murmured to Mr. K.'s yellow blooms.
    Suddenly a voice boomed: “Young man!” I jumped.
Whoosh
went the vase. Water all over. I grabbed the pot holder, frantically mopped.
    “Young man,” the voice boomed again, “where did you get those roses?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    I felt like an outlaw for sure. “I didn't st-steal them,” I stammered. “Mr. K. took them. From his garden, I mean. He gave them to my mother.”
    “Where is your mother?”
    The man loomed over me. His gray eyebrows bristled like two caterpillars.
    “Where is your mother?” he repeated, scooping up a soggy flower.
    The curse was reaching beyond the garden. Would Mama and Mr. K. get in trouble?
    “Those roses came from Texas,” I rushed to explain. “In a potato. A long time ago.”
    “What's the name?”
    “JACKSON!”
    Ro rounded a corner, raced for the booth. “GUESS WHAT?”
    “Hey, the floor's wet.” Gaby slid to a halt beside her brother. “And so are your mama's cards! Boy, will she be mad.”
    “JACKSON!” Ro tugged at my shirt.
    “Don't pay any attention to him,” Gaby informed the man. “He's excited 'cause—hey, who are you?”
    “I'm a judge.”
    “Like Judge Judy on TV?” Gaby asked. “Do you put people in jail?”
    The man chuckled. “Actually, I'm a judge