The Garden Plot Read online

  READY, SET, GROW!

  “Gardening is the best,” eight-year-old Joe Hardy said, leaning back in his lawn chair and munching on a freshly pulled carrot.

  “There’s a difference between eating the garden and gardening.” His older brother, Frank, looked up from weeding the zucchini patch. “I’m the one doing most of the work. And if you keep eating all our veggies, there won’t be anything left for the judges from the FEEL Contest to judge.”

  The Bayport Science Center was sponsoring the Friendly Environment Edible Lawn—FEEL for short—Contest. Just about all the houses in the Hardys’ neighborhood had signed up to turn their front lawns into eco-friendly edible landscape gardens.

  “It’s an edible landscape contest. What good is a yard full of plants you can eat if you’re not allowed to eat the edibles? Right, Mr. Bee?” Joe asked the bumblebee collecting pollen from one of the bright red nasturtium flowers growing along the path leading to the Hardys’ front door. Joe plucked one of the petals and popped it into his mouth. “Who knew flowers could be so tasty?”

  “The bees help by pollinating the plants,” Frank said. “You just eat them!”

  Joe shrugged. “By the way, the beans look like they could use some watering, when you get a chance.” He took another bite of his carrot. “See, I’m helping!”

  Joe pulled a leaf from a tall stalk with pom-pom-shaped purple flowers on top, but Frank started waving his hands in the air. “Don’t eat the milkweed leaves! Not all parts of every plant are edible or okay to snack on raw. You should never try something unless you’re totally sure.”

  Frank sighed. “Besides, the block party where they judge the contest is just a few days away, and I want to at least get an honorable mention. Even if we don’t win, there are still a lot of great prizes for the runners-up.”

  “Our neighborhood sure has come a long way since they announced the contest a few months ago,” Joe said, looking up and down their tree-lined street. “Before everyone started gardening this spring, the street was full of boring old grassy front lawns.”

  “All that water people were using just to grow grass no one can eat is now growing lots of food,” Frank said. “Edible lawns look good and they’re good for the planet.”

  “And tasty!” Joe said. “The whole street is like one big, beautiful garden full of munchies.”

  “Some of the yards are more beautiful than others.”

  Joe and Frank looked up to see their schoolmate Vic hop onto the curb in front of their house. He wore a fancy leather holster with a garden spade on one hip and a pruner on the other. His knees were covered in dirt, just like Frank’s.

  “Don’t rub it in, Vic,” Frank grumbled, looking across the street at the gorgeous edible jungle growing on Vic’s front lawn.

  “You gotta admit, it is pretty spectacular,” Joe said. “The kale plants look like little palm trees! And check out all those cucumbers. There must be a hundred of them!” He whistled at the six-foot-tall trellis next to Vic’s house. It was made of carefully crisscrossed bamboo poles, and cucumbers of different colors, shapes, and sizes dangled from the green-leafed vines that were climbing up it.

  Vic glanced across the street, admiring his garden. “Thanks, Joe. My family’s always been known for our green thumbs. Your garden isn’t bad either.”

  “It could be better,” Frank said with a sad glance at the spotty patch of lettuce next to him.

  “Everybody can’t be the best at everything,” Vic said, leaning on the Hardys’ gated fence. “My family may be gifted gardeners, but everyone knows the Hardys are Bayport’s best mystery solvers. Not that it’s any mystery who’s going to win the FEEL competition.”

  Vic looped his thumbs through the belt of his holster and grinned.

  “Gardening is a new hobby for me, I guess,” Frank said, looking down at the stack of gardening books and seed catalogs sitting next to his bin of tools.

  The whole town knew about the Hardy boys’ first hobby—detecting. Their dad, Fenton, was a detective, so like Vic’s green thumb, it ran in the family.

  “Us gumshoes make okay gardeners, but our specialty really is cracking cases,” said Joe.

  “What’s a gumshoe?” Vic asked.

  “It’s an old-timey way of saying detective,” Joe explained.

  “The rubber on sneakers used to be called gum, so ‘gumshoe’ means an investigator who can sneak around and be stealthy,” Frank added.

  There was a sudden not-at-all-stealthy rustling from the bushes behind the garden. The three boys looked up to see the leaves shaking, like something was lurking inside them.

  Vic bit his lip nervously. “Um, what is—”

  Before he could finish his question, a wild beast burst into the yard!

  FURRY FRENEMIES

  Vic yelped at the sight of the furry creature.

  Frank gritted his teeth and growled.

  Joe grinned and waved. “Hi, Woody!” he called to the pudgy brown animal as it waddled up to the fence behind the garden. It was the size of a very fat cat, with stumpy little legs, a shortish tail, and buck teeth. The animal looked like a beaver, but without the big, flat tail.

  Vic gasped. “A woodchuck!”

  “Joe hasn’t been the only one eating the edible landscape behind my back. Woody’s the reason we’re out of the running for the FEEL Contest.” Frank flicked a string bean on one of the too-short vines climbing up the fence. “My green bean plants were nearly as tall as your cucumbers before Woody and his friends started gnawing on them.”

  “Turns out woodchucks don’t chuck wood at all,” Joe said. “They chuck Frank’s beans!”

  “They’re also called groundhogs, and now I know why,” Frank added with a sigh. “They hog all the veggies. They like green beans and just about everything else except for some of the herbs. Thanks to the woodchucks, my dreams of winning the contest are gone—along with most of my lettuce! They ate half the garden before we put up my WDS to keep them out.”

  “Your WD-what?” Vic asked.

  “Woodchuck Defense System.” Frank tapped the white picket fence Vic was leaning on. “Two layers. Cedar wood on the front so it looks nice, with impenetrable wire fencing on the back so nothing can slip or chew through.”

  Vic gave a tug on the sturdy steel wire. The metal seemed too thick to gnaw through, and the holes in the wire fence were only about two inches wide.

  Woody barely seemed to notice them as he walked over to the far corner of the fence and jammed his nose into a large bowl filled with old fruit. A second later, he stood up on his hind legs, holding an apple core between paws that looked like little gloved hands, and started to stuff his face.

  “You guys are feeding them?!” Vic asked.

  “Joe is feeding them,” Frank corrected.

  Joe shrugged. “Woody and his friends are cute. And I feel bad about locking him out of the garden. It’s not his fault Frank grows such tasty veggies.” Joe popped a ripe red cherry tomato into his mouth.

  Frank sighed again. “Thankfully, groundhogs seem to like old fruit even more than vegetables.”

  “Bananas are Woody’s favorite,” Joe added.

  “And if we feed them, they’ll be less tempted to steal anything from someone else’s garden,” Frank explained. “There’s no way they’re getting through my WDS either way.”

  “Now you just need to build a fence to keep Joe out,” Vic said.

  Joe grinned and chomped down on another tomato. Frank threw up his hands.

  “I sure am glad I don’t have any furry frenemies on my side of the street. I don’t know what I’d do if something tried to eat my veggies.” Vic paused. “We have a mouse in our house, but that doesn’t bother me. It drives my parents bananas, though. Mice can flatte
n their bodies like little furry pancakes to squeeze through teeny-tiny cracks, so they’re really hard to keep out. On the plus side for me, they’re happier in the pantry than the garden.”

  “You might not know from looking at them, but mice and woodchucks are related,” Frank said. “Groundhogs aren’t really hogs at all. They’re rodents. Just supersize ones that like to eat fruits and vegetables instead of cheese.”

  Vic laughed. “Good thing my parents don’t need to worry about woodchucks in the house.”

  DING! DING!

  Frank, Joe, and Vic all looked up at the sound of a bike bell approaching. The dinging wasn’t coming from a bike, though. There was a giant pickle barreling down the street toward them!

  The pickle was on top of a cart being pulled by a green electric scooter, ridden by a girl about their age.

  “The Pickle Palace!” Joe hopped up and jogged over to the fence as the girl pulled her vehicle to a stop. The pickle cart was big enough for a kid to climb inside and had windows cut into it. THE PICKLE PRINCESS’S PICKLE PALACE was painted on both sides in large purple letters.

  “Hey, Violet,” Frank said. “How’s the pickle cart business?”

  The girl adjusted her purple-framed glasses and jumped off her scooter. “Business is booming. Everyone likes a cool pickle on a hot summer day.”

  “Count me in!” Joe said, pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket. “I’ll take two.”

  “What flavors? I’ve got five varieties today.” She pointed to the chalkboard menu hanging next to the window. “I’ve also got pickled hot peppers, kimchi, and kraut.”

  “I’ll take a Kosher Classic with extra dill and a Hot-Hot-Hot-Hot House.” Joe gave the menu another glance. “You can throw in a cup of Red, White, and You multicolored kraut too.”

  “Coming right up!” Violet opened a door in the back of the pickle cart and climbed inside. She appeared at the window a moment later with a tray. Joe slapped a couple bills next to it and started chowing down.

  “The garden’s looking good, boys,” Violet said, taking in the Hardys’ edible front yard.

  “Not good enough to win the FEEL Contest,” Frank said, frowning again.

  “Who cares about silly contests?” Violet took a bite of one of her own hot peppers. “I’m too busy with the Pickle Palace to waste time trying to make my garden look pretty for some judge. Whoo! That’s spicy!”

  “I can’t believe you’re not even going to try,” Vic said. “I mean, it’s going to be hard to beat me, but they’re giving out awards for runners-up in different categories too.”

  “Eh. I’ve got my eyes on a bigger pr—” Violet stopped talking, her mouth hanging open, as she stared through the pickle cart’s other window at Vic’s front yard across the street. “Prize. Wow, Vic! Your cucumbers are amazing!”

  Vic smiled proudly. “The best in Bayport.”

  Violet whistled. “I bet they’d make some tasty pickles.”

  “They’re way too pretty to pick or pickle,” Vic replied. “Those beauties aren’t going anywhere until the contest is over and I’ve been crowned champion.”

  Violet shook her head. “What good is growing food if you can’t pickle and eat it?”

  “ThatsmoreorlesswhatIsaid!” Joe mumbled through a mouthful of sauerkraut.

  “We can eat it after the contest,” Frank said.

  “Not everyone in Bayport has the feels for FEEL, you know,” Violet said, stepping out of the Pickle Palace. “I just got back from my pickle cart rounds at the farmers’ market, and a lot of the folks there aren’t happy about the contest at all. Farmer Phil said it’s stealing their customers.”

  Farmer Phil ran the largest produce stand at the farmers’ market.

  Vic rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’m selling my cucumbers.”

  “Nope, but not as many people need to buy their veggies from the market now that everyone is growing their own,” Violet explained as she hopped back on her scooter.

  Vic thought for a second. “I guess that’s true. My parents used to shop at the market all the time, but now we grow exactly what we want right outside our front door. We planted extra of the things we like best, so we can pick some and still have some to display for the judges.”

  Violet revved her scooter’s motor. “I’ve got more pickles to sell. I’ll see you boys later.”

  “Thanks for the tasty snack!” Joe called after her.

  “Pickle power!” she yelled as the Pickle Palace picked up speed and disappeared down the block.

  “Speaking of Farmer Phil, Woody’s fruit buffet is almost ready for a refill,” Joe said, turning to Vic, who looked confused. “Phil gives us a discount on the overripe fruit he doesn’t sell.”

  “That way, we can also help Farmer Phil reduce food waste, so the leftover produce doesn’t just get thrown out,” added Frank.

  “I still can’t believe you’re feeding the woodch—” Vic didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

  Only it wasn’t Frank or Joe who interrupted him. The brothers looked almost as stunned as Vic when a blast of water sent him flying off his feet.

  EDIBLE ENVY

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” Vic screamed as he landed on his backside.

  The stream of water disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Vic sitting soggily in a puddle on the sidewalk.

  Frank and Joe heard a gasp from across the street, the same direction the water had come from. They looked up to see a girl standing wide-eyed on the second-floor balcony of the house next door to Vic’s. She wore a bright blue hijab. The headscarf was wrapped neatly around her neck and over the shoulder of her long, flowy dark-blue shirt. One hand covered the girl’s mouth while the other held the nozzle of a long garden hose—a really long garden hose. It was so long, it had been pulled inside through an open first-floor window, and through the house, onto the second-floor balcony!

  “Audrika!” Vic snarled.

  She dropped the hose and ran back inside. A minute later, the front door of the house flew open and Audrika came bursting out, her scarf waving in the air behind her and her sneakers squeaking against the pavement as she ran across the street toward Vic. Joe noticed that the knees of her jeans were dirty, just like Frank’s and Vic’s.

  “I’m so sorry, Vic! I didn’t mean to spray you!” Audrika went to help him up, but he waved her away and climbed back to his feet on his own.

  Joe looked at the first-floor window where the hose had been pulled inside from the front yard. “Did you really drag that hose all the way up the stairs to the balcony? That’s what I call extreme gardening!”

  “I was trying to get just the right angle to water my berry patch, but”—she looked away in embarrassment—“I must have accidentally turned the hose to full force. My brother, Amir, got me a new high-tech garden nozzle with twenty different settings. I’m still kind of getting the hang of it.”

  “An accident? Likely story,” Vic said, trying to squeeze the water out of his shirt.

  “Really, Vic! I wouldn’t spray you on purpose.” Audrika sounded genuinely hurt. “I’m just a little klutzy sometimes.”

  “It’s true,” Joe said. “In robotics class, she knocked over half the lab equipment trying to invent a walking weed puller.”

  Audrika rubbed her forehead. “That one really hurt.”

  “Um, are you sure it’s safe for you to be watering from the balcony like that?” Frank asked, shaking off some of the water that had splattered on him. “Your garden is gorgeous, but I don’t want you to fall taking care of it!”

  Audrika didn’t seem to notice Frank’s concern, but she did beam at the compliment.

  “Her garden is okay,” Vic muttered.

  “I don’t know. I’d say first prize is a toss-up between the two of you. I mean, look at those sunflowers!” Joe whistled. “They’re so big, they actually look like the sun.”

  The front of Audrika’s edible lawn was lined with giant, twelve-foot-tall sunflowers. B
ehind those were neatly tended rows of purple cabbages the size of soccer balls, striped green watermelons as big as basketballs, and pepper plants in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes.

  Vic scowled. “Her sunflowers have nothing on my cucumbers.”

  “It’s not a contest, Vic,” Audrika said.

  “Um, technically, it is a contest,” replied Joe.

  “Oh yeah.” Audrika narrowed her eyes. “And I’m going to win! Besides, I don’t even like cucumbers. I bet the judges won’t either, not once they parade past my peppers.”

  “Your peppers are paltry in comparison to my passionflowers.” Vic narrowed his eyes and pointed at the alien-looking purple pinwheel flowers and lime-size fruit climbing the fence across from his cucumbers.

  “Yeah, well, your passionflowers are blah next to my bee balm and borage butterfly buffet!” Audrika stabbed her finger at a patch of tall flowers, some topped with fuzzy-looking purple, pink, and red pom-poms, others covered in small baby-blue stars. Bees and butterflies buzzed and fluttered all around the blooms.

  “The butterflies like my coneflowers better than your boring borage!” Vic yelled.

  “Whoa, hold up, you two!” Frank said, jumping between them. “This is supposed to be a friendly competition. You both worked really hard and have great gardens. You can both want to win the contest and still be friends.”

  “You’re right, Frank.” Audrika bit her lip and turned back to Vic. “You do have a very nice garden. And I really am sorry for spraying you.”

  Vic kicked at the ground without looking up. “Well, I guess you didn’t mean to do it.”

  Audrika smiled. “I’ve got to finish my watering. I’ll see you guys later.”

  She looked both ways, then jogged back across the street to her house.

  Vic trudged back to his yard a moment later, mumbling to himself. “My garden is so much better than hers.”

  “Who knew gardening was such a competitive sport?” Joe said, munching on a mint leaf. “Ah, nature’s mouthwash!”