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grabbed a shirt from the laundry basket on the floor. It didn’t help. The hairs stuck right out through the shirt.
    Oh man. I reached under the shirt and tried to smooth the hairs down. They sprang right back up.
    I looked around the bathroom. I saw Dad’s razor. But the thought of cutting the hairs made me shiver. I was afraid it would hurt. Worse, I was afraid what might drip out of them if I cut them. Maybe some kind of green goo.
    There had to be something I could do. Dad’s hair gel! That was it. I grabbed the jar and scooped up a big handful, then reached under my shirt and tried again. This time, the hairs stayed. After I’d slicked down the hairs on my chest, I took care of the ones on my arms.

    I opened the door and walked into the hall, going past Dad.
    He looked at me and sniffed. “You smell nice,” he said.
    Oh man. I’d forgotten that Dad’s hair gel smelled. I just couldn’t win. If I kept it on, I’d smell like a barbershop. If I washed it off, I’d be walking around with hairs sticking out all over my chest, looking like a porcupine or a cactus person.
    I went down to breakfast.
    â€œYou smell nice,” Mom said. She smiled.
    Pit shook his head. “You stink,” he said. He pinched his nose.
    I checked my shirt, making sure none of the hairs had popped back up. Now I really didn’t feel like eating. “I got to get to school early,” I said. I stood up from the table and headed for the door.
    It felt strange walking to school by myself. I was so used to going everywhere with Bud. But I just had to get away. It was still early, and there was nobody in the yard when I got there. I walked around back. There was this spot off on the side where each class plants a tree when they graduate. They’d been doing it since the school was built thirty years ago, so some of the trees are pretty big. I went over there and leaned against a tree. According to the sign, it had been planted ten years ago.
    I stood for a while, trying to figure out what to do. The voice startled me.
    â€œLud, stop that. You’re killing the tree.”
    I looked up. It was Dawn. She pointed at my hand. I hadn’t realized I was holding a handful of fresh, green leaves. Worse, when I tried to say something, I realized my mouth was full. I spat out a hunk of half-chewed leaves.
    â€œYou are so gross,” she said.
    â€œBut…” I looked at the tree. Two of the lower branches were bare. All the leaves were gone. My stomach felt full, like I’d just stuffed myself with three or four hot dogs. Oh man, I’d been eating leaves. And I didn’t even know what I was doing. It was like when you get going on a bag of chips and eat them without thinking about it. Once, I watched Bud eat a whole bag of oatmeal-raisin cookies while he was watching television. I don’t think he even tasted them. But this wasn’t chips or cookies. It was leaves.
    Then Dawn smiled and said, “But I’ll say one thing for you—you smell nice.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œJust take it easy on the trees.” She walked off. I looked around. There still wasn’t anyone in the yard. Dawn must have come early to work on a project. At least nobody else had seen me.
    There was no question. I needed help. But there wasn’t anybody in my family who could help me. If it was a problem with a machine, I could ask Dad. If it was a problem with regular kid stuff, I could ask Mom. But this wasn’t something a mom or dad would know about.

    I didn’t have a choice. There was only one person smart enough to help me. Except I wasn’t sure I could show him my problem without scaring him to death.

 
    Eleven
    SHOW AND TELL
    Â 
    I had to talk to the nerd. When you need a screwdriver, don’t try to do the job with a fork. That’s what Dad says. I walked out to the front of the school and waited. Finally, I saw him coming down the street with his