When Sam first emerged from the tunnels, the brightness of the greenhouse blinded him for a moment. He stood still, blinking, and trying to get his bearings.

“Ew. What is this stuff?” Eleanor shrieked.

Sam turned his head, glad to finally make out more than shadows. Eleanor was pointing to a streak of greenish-black slime in her hair. A quick survey of himself told him that more of the same gunk stained his uniform and his skin. He wondered how hard it would be to get out and if his mom had any cash for an extra trip to the wash-and-wear this week.

“Dad is going to kill me,” Eleanor whispered.

“For a bit of slime you got fixing a sprinkler system?”

“I’ve washed my hair twice already this week. He’s going to make me cut i...

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