I sat down, but I stayed tense and ready to spring into action. Did Chapman suspect? Had he figured out that I hadn't just fallen into the crocodile pit? Had he figured out that I was the crocodile who had carried the little boy to safety?

I was dead meat if he had. The Yeerks believe we are a group of Andalite bandits. See, they know they're getting attacked by a group of people who can morph. It just never occurs to them that humans could morph.

If they knew the truth . . . well, there's a good reason we keep the truth a secret.

"So."

"So," I agreed.

"Yesterday was quite a day for you," Chapman said.

"Yes, sir."

"You were very lucky. Twice."

"Yes. I guess so. But I guess the way I look at it, I was unlucky twice."

He nodded like I'd said something deep. "No injuries?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Amazing," he said. Then he narrowed his eyes and stared hard at me.

"Rachel. Your grades have dropped this last semester. Not a lot. But your teachers think you aren't applying yourself the way you used to."

"I still have an A average," I pointed out.

"Barely."

I squirmed in my seat. This was insane. I wasn't sure if I was being interrogated by a dangerous Controller who suspected my true identity.

Or if I was just being lectured about my grades by an assistant principal.

"Has anything changed in your life lately?"

I almost swallowed my tongue. Had anything changed? Like, for example, being given the power to morph by a dying alien and ending up fighting an invasion of Earth by parasite slugs from outer space?

"Urn . . . nope," I said. "No big changes."

He smiled an understanding smile. "Your parents got divorced, didn't they? And didn't your father move away?"

I tried not to look too relieved. But I definitely sighed. "Oh, yeah.

Oh, that. Urn, yes. Maybe

that's why my grades are down a little. That must be it. You know, the trauma and all."

I felt my feet itching. It was a strange thing to notice right then, with Chapman staring at me like I was some mystery he was trying to understand. But they were definitely itching. And I was feeling flushed . . . warm all over.

"Well, as you may or may not know, Rachel, I am the local head of a wonderful group called The Sharing."

And that's when my heart stopped beating.

My heart missed about four beats before it started up again, going a hundred miles an hour. "Uh-huh," I said, trying not to let the adrenaline rush overwhelm me.

Get ready, I told myself. Get ready.

"We like to think we offer some help to kids who may be going through a bad time," Chapman said. "We have an awful lot of fun. Camp-outs.

Bonfire barbecues on the beach. Just a month or so back we had a big waterskiing trip up to a mountain lake."

I could have said, "Yes, I know. We were there, too, but not exactly in human shapes."

Instead I said, "That sounds like fun."

"It is fun," Chapman said with total sincerity.

"And a lot of our members are kids who come from troubled homes. Kids with problems. But they're also kids who want to make life better.

They're hopeful, optimistic kids. When I saw you handling yourself so well on the news last night I thought, you know, I should offer Rachel this opportunity. She's just the kind of person who could really benefit from The Sharing."

"How did I look on TV?" I asked.

"Very self-possessed. Very attractive and very mature."

"Cool."

"But. . ." He sighed. "I have to wonder at the same time if maybe you don't have some problems in your life. I mean, the stories all say you fell into the crocodile pit..."

I held my breath. Here it comes! He suspects!

". . . but I don't believe in accidents. I have to wonder if maybe you have some problems that made you, shall we say, careless."

I barked out a laugh. Then I stopped myself. He thought I was suicidal!

Did he think I'd sawed through the floor of my house, too? Good grief.

That's why he was trying to recruit me for The Sharing. He thought I was depressed or whatever. A perfect recruit for his little Controller organization.

Yeah, right. Where do I sign up, Mr. Chap-

man? Could there be a special discount on dues for Animorphs?

I shook my head. "No. Actually, I'm very happy."

Once again, a feeling like pins and needles of warmth swarming over me.

I shifted my feet. The feeling was familiar. . .

Oh, no!

Oh, no! My feet!

I looked down and it took every single ounce of my self-control to keep the look of horror from my face.

My feet were swelling. They were growing thick, shaggy brown fur. They were swelling and straining my shoes. The laces were strained tight.

"I know you say everything is fine, Rachel, but -"

SNAP!

He frowned. "What was that?"

SNAP!

"Nothing," I said in a squeaky voice.

"I heard something pop."

My laces had snapped from the pressure. I shook my head. "No."

"Anyway, what I was saying, was . . . Rachel? Are you listening?"

No, I wasn't listening. I was busy trying to see

if any other parts of me were turning into grizzly bear. Because, see, that's what it was. I'd seen those feet before. They were bear feet.

"Urn, yes! Yes. I am listening very closely!"

Oh, please! No way! I can't morph here! Not right in Chapman's office. I focused. I concentrated. Demorph!

Chapman just kept droning on. On and on about The Sharing. And all the while, my shoes were torn to ribbons. And my legs, from the knees down, grew shaggy with long, rough brown fur. And hard nails grew where my toes had been.