(Amelia's POV)I was in the kitchen at six forty when Noah appeared in the doorway, hair not yet brushed, wearing yesterday's socks with today's uniform, holding a shoebox as if it contained something that might combust if tilted."The diorama," he said. By way of explanation, as if the shoebox had made everything self evident."The rainforest one," I said."The one about symbiotic relationships in the Amazon canopy," he said. "Ms Ferris said diorama makes it sound like a school project. It is a school project. I do not see the distinction.""Neither do I," I said. "Sit down."He sat down and set the shoebox on the table with the particular care of someone who had spent three evenings gluing moss to cardboard and did not intend to lose it to a careless elbow now."The fungus is coming off the tree," he said. "The big one. Root system."I looked at the shoebox. A cotton wool cloud sagged over one corner. A green pipe cleaner, meant to be a vine presumably, had come loose at one end and
Ler mais