"Please!"

It took both girls a while to realize that Casey had stopped shaking. And was laughing.

"That wasn't funny!" Margaret screamed.

"Gotcha!" he declared. And then began to laugh even harder, pointing at them and repeating the phrase through his triumphant laughter. "Gotcha! Gotcha!"

He was leaning against the glass, his body still now, his mouth wrapped in a broad, mischievous grin.

"But we have to do something!" Margaret cried.

Casey's whole body shook as if an electrical current were charging through him. His head jerked on his shoulders, and his eyes looked wild and dazed.

"You were faking it?! I don't believe it!" Diane cried, her face as pale as the white lights above them, her lower lip trembling.

"Help me!"

"Margaret -- don't!" Diane screamed. "Don't touch him!"

Margaret and Diane stared in open-mouthed horror. Margaret was the first to move. She lunged at Casey, and reached out to try to pull him away from the glass.

"Casey?" Margaret asked, staring at him, her terrified expression fading to astonishment.

Another low, sad moan.

The large basement was silent now except for their heavy breathing.

"Plants don't cry and moan," Diane said, her eyes on the vast trough of plants that filled the room.

The free-for-all was brought to a sudden halt by a low moan from across the room. All three kids raised their heads and stared in the direction of the sound.

"What was that?" Diane whispered.

They listened.

The tendrils of a treelike plant suddenly drooped, like snakes lowering themselves to the ground.

"Gotcha! Gotcha!" he continued, stopping only when Margaret tickled his stomach so hard he couldn't talk.

Another low moan, a mournful sound, muffled, like air through a saxophone.

"You rat!" Diane cried. "You little rat!"

"It's -- the plants!" Casey said, his expression frightened now. He pushed his sister off him and climbed to his feet, brushing back his disheveled blond hair as he stood up.

Both girls leapt onto Casey and pushed him to the floor. Margaret sat on top of him while Diane held his shoulders down.

"Let's get out of here," Casey said, edging toward the stairs.

All three of them were out of breath by the time they ran up the stairs. Casey closed the door tightly, making sure it clicked shut.

"These do," Margaret said.

"I'm sure Dad could explain it," Margaret said. Her words were calm, but her voice trembled, and she was backing out of the room, following Diane and Casey.

"No, he isn't," Casey quickly insisted. "He's doing important work here."

Tendrils moved, like human arms shifting their position. They could hear breathing again, slow, steady breathing. Then a sigh, like air escaping.

"Weird," Diane repeated, playing nervously with a strand of her long red hair. "Definitely weird." It was her word of the day. But Margaret had to admit it was appropriate.

"Let's just get out of here!" Margaret exclaimed.

"Your dad is weird," Diane said, reaching the doorway.

A tall treelike plant sighed and appeared to bend toward them, raising its tendrils as if beckoning to them, calling them back.

"It's definitely creepy down here," Diane said, following him, her eyes remaining on the shifting, moaning plants.

"Well, Dad warned us not to go down there," Margaret said, struggling to catch her breath. "I guess he knew it would look scary to us, and we wouldn't understand."

"Yeah. Sure," Margaret said, still thinking about the moaning, shifting plants. Some of them had seemed to be reaching out to them, crying out to them. But of course that was impossible.

Just as she disappeared, their father's dark blue station wagon turned the corner and started up the drive. "Back from the airport," Margaret said. She turned from the door back to Casey a few yards behind her in the hallway. "Is the basement door closed?"

"I'm getting out of here," Diane said, only half-kidding. She stepped out of the screen door and turned back toward them. "Want to go over the math later?"

"Later," Diane said, and headed at a trot down the drive.

He stopped. His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

"Yeah," Casey replied, looking again to make sure. "No way Dad will know we --"

His face went pale.

"My T-shirt!" Casey exclaimed, slapping his bare chest. "I left it in the basement!"