Ferb Fletcher was a quiet 7 year old boy who lived in a small, two bedroom flat in London with his dad, Lawrence. They'd been living there for three months while his parents went to court twice a week. Sometimes more. He didn't know a lot of what they were fighting about, all he knew was that his mom and dad used to fight all the time before he'd moved Ferb to the little flat. His mom wanted to keep him in England with her and her new boyfriend while her soon-to-be ex-husband moved as far away as possible, taking his stupid (and other colorful words he hadn't been supposed to hear) antique business with him.

The thing was, though, Ferb didn't want to stay with his mom in England. He loved his grandparents and would miss not getting to see them all the time, but he didn't like his mom's new boyfriend. His name was Frank and he smelled weird and had a look to him that didn't sit well with Ferb, like when he got a tummy ache and felt like he was going to throw up, especially when he used that look on Ferb. He was nice enough, especially in front of his mother, but Ferb just didn't like the way he looked.

His dad had moved him out of the big house he used to share with his mom a month after the divorce had started and into a small flat across town, but Ferb still spent weekends between his mom's house and his grandparents cottage when both his parents had to go to court. Sometimes he wished the judge would just ask him what he wanted because it would be a lot easier, but no one wanted to listen to a 7 year old who rarely talked on a good day. He still had speech therapy appointments on Thursdays, but he didn't need them. He could talk just fine. He just didn't like to.

The world was too noisy. It would be better if everyone would stop talking sometimes. As he climbed out of bed to close his window-his toes were starting to look blue-and get dressed, he looked at the large calendar his grandma had gotten him for his birthday. Each month was a different galaxy, and he had cool planet and star stickers to mark off the days. Today was monday, but it was holiday so he didn't have school. Maybe he and his dad could go to the planetarium on Thursday after speech? Hopefully he wouldn't have to go any more once he and his dad moved away.

Walking over to his closet, he pulled out his purple overalls and a long sleeved white sweater to wear with it. Exchanging his pajamas for the day clothes, he walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth before going downstairs. His dad was sitting at the small two chair table in one corner of the cramped kitchen drinking tea and reading the newspaper. He looked up when Ferb came in, walking to the refrigerator to get some orange juice and milk for his cereal. "Morning, Ferb! How'd you sleep last night, buddy? Good dreams?" Ferb nodded, setting his breakfast on the table before climbing up into the seat and pulling the funny pages toward him to look at while he ate. "Can we go to the planetarium on Thursday after speech?" he asked, looking up at the tall, brown haired man from under his bangs. His dad considered it for a moment, setting his newspaper down to study Ferb over his pointed fingers. "Well I don't see why not," he said, smiling. "Let's plan on it! So long as nothing comes up, that is. Sound good?" Ferb nodded, smiling around a bite of fruity cereal. His mom never bought him fruity cereal. She said it was too sugary.

"I thought maybe today we could go into town, maybe do a bit of grocery shopping and pick up something for dinner. Sound good?" Ferb nodded, taking a sip of his orange juice. He liked grocery shopping with his dad. The older Fletcher always had a way of finding little out of the way farmer's markets and specialty stores that sold foods from other countries. Last time they'd gone grocery shopping they'd ended up in Little Russia and gotten pierogi for dinner along with some Russian candies that he hadn't been able to name but they were nutty and chocolaty and really, really good.

He'd wanted to try to bring some to Phineas, but he hadn't quite managed to figure that out yet. The last time he'd tried he'd woken up with melted chocolate under his pillow. He'd been at his mom's and she'd not been pleased. Frank had been over that day and had laughed, telling his mom to relax and he'd probably just been saving it for later and forgot they were under there. He'd still had to sit through a lecture about how food in the bedroom led to pests.

Finishing their breakfasts, the Fletcher boys made their way to the car, his dad pausing to lock up the front door before they descended the three flights of stairs to the parking lot. Ferb buckled himself into his car seat while his dad loaded their reusable bags into the trunk and they were off. While his dad sang along with the radio-a song about wanting to have fun by some American singer-Ferb stared out the window imagining he was still on that roller coaster. They'd ZOOOOM around the freeway in a corkscrew, racing past even the fastest European drivers before spiraling up Big Ben. The next big drop could come as they crossed the Thames.

They could end it all in Hyde park by the carousel, riding the colorful horses until it grew dark and time to go home. Maybe if things went wrong like they had the last time they'd end up in Paris, sliding down the Louvre Pyramid, or in Italy looping around and around inside the colosseum until they were too dizzy to see straight. It didn't matter where they ended up, though. As long as they had fun, his dad always said the destination was never as important as the road you take to get there. He tracked his mental roller coaster all the way up to the small farmer's market his dad had found in Greenwich. He was brought out of the thoughts when the man opened his door to help him out of the harness.

"Alright there, Ferb? Usually you're the first out of the car when we arrive somewhere!" Ferb nodded, hopping out of the car and grabbing the bag he was offered. "So I thought we'd get some carrots, green beans, some squash if they've got any that look good, some eggs, and what would you say to maybe some pumpkin and sweet potatoes? I figured we could use some of the pumpkin in a soup and maybe use the rest for a pie?" Ferb nodded. His dad made really good pies. They took their time roaming up and down the aisles, his dad testing fruits and veggies to see their ripeness before deciding whether or not they could use them.

They got what they came for, but he also found apples that were a perfect, gold speckled red color, some blueberries and persimmons, and figs. There was also something called edamame that looked like giant, fuzzy green beans to Ferb, but his dad insisted that when steamed and salted, they were very good. Right at the back of the market was a small pumpkin patch. Ferb was left the task of finding the perfect pumpkin while his dad picked out a carton of eggs and some mushrooms he planned on using in a stew later.

The task of pumpkin picking was an important one. If it was too big, most of it would go bad while if it was too small, there wouldn't be enough for everything they were going to make. His grandpa had once told him that the reason carving pumpkins were always bigger than your head was because they had less flavor to them. The best ones to eat were smaller and squatty.

There were such a variety of pumpkins to choose from that Ferb was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. There were tall rounded ones too heavy for him to carry, short stubby ones covered in little bumps, white ones, green ones, ones that didn't even look like pumpkins at all. They looked more like upside down mushrooms, or spaceships. Ferb briefly entertained the idea of a race of space aliens that had pumpkin spaceships to travel the stars in while he picked his way through the squashes. He was starting to get discouraged because none of them looked right when one of his trainers got caught and he was sent sprawling over a pumpkin that was bigger than he was.

His breath left him in a woosh and his side hurt where the stem was digging into him, but he didn't care. There, hidden behind the large orange fruit, was a perfectly round pumpkin. Maybe up to his knee, it had a smooth round rind and a curly brown stem. Pushing himself up off the enormous gourd, he slid around it and bent to properly examine his probable prize. His grandmother had sometimes grown pumpkins back behind their house and when Ferb was younger she'd taken him out to show him how to check for a good one.

"Now Ferb," she'd tell him, "the first thing you do is look at the skin. It should be nice and hard like it's wearing a shell. Then you thump it and see if it sounds hollow. If it doesn't then it means it's gone all rotten on the inside." She'd led him to a small pumpkin, about the size to fit in his open hand and showed him how to thump it and listen, pleased when he heard the hollow echo in his ear. "So it is a good one then?" she'd asked him and he'd nodded back going to pick it up so she could cut the stem and they could take it inside. "Wait a second, dear. You know, there's a legend about a kindly witch who lives in pumpkin patches and enchants pumpkins with the names of good little boys and girls who are coming to pick out their pumpkins. Should we see if she visited our patch?"

Fascinated, Ferb nodded eagerly. "Look on the underside of the pumpkin. She likes to hide them so that only the right children can find their pumpkins." Setting his pumpkin back down on the ground, Ferb carefully rolled it over. The bottom was dirty from where it had been sitting on the ground to grow, but when he brushed it away it revealed a series of little grey raised bumps. F-E-R-B. The pumpkin had his name on it! He looked up at his grandmother with excitement as she bent down to cut it from the vine. He'd carried his named fruit into the house to show his parents, and that night they'd had the best pumpkin pie he'd ever tasted.

Smiling at the memory, Ferb checked and thumped the pumpkin until he was satisfied. When he went to roll it so he could pick it up however, he felt a cold shudder run through him. Two letters were scabbed into the bottom of the pumpkin. P and F. Thoughts were racing through his head faster than he could process them. What could it mean? He no longer believed in the story of the Pumpkin Patch Witch, but this had to be some sort of sign. He was still crouched there staring at those two letters when he heard his dad calling his name.

"Ferb I'm about done with what I needed to do here. Did you find a good pumpkin?" He picked his way over to his son, looking down at the pumpkin that had Ferb transfixed. "Ah splendid! That's a nice looking pumpkin, my boy! Is that the one you want?" Ferb nodded, brought out of his trance by his dad. Scooping it into his arms, he tottered to his feet and followed the older Fletcher out of the patch and toward the check out.

? ? ? ?

They'd loaded their fresh goods into the trunk of the car before climbing back in and heading for the supermarket for the rest of their list. They'd just pulled into the parking lot when his dad's cell phone rang. "Hello? Oh yes, hi Sarah. How are you today?" Ferb unclipped his harness, staring at the back of his dad's head. This couldn't be good. Sarah was his dad's lawyer. She only ever called when he was going to be needed in court. "No, my son and I were just doing a bit of grocery shopping for the week. She did what? No, no. I'll be there. What time? Fine. Thank you, Sarah." He hung up the phone with a sigh, looking back at Ferb through the reflection in the rear view mirror.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, buddy, but I'm afraid we're going to have to cut our shopping adventure short, and you're going to have to go stay with your grandparents for a little while. Sarah needs me to come in to review some things your mother's lawyer is trying to slip to the judge. I'm really sorry about this, Ferb. But hey! You can show your grandma your pumpkin!" Ferb nodded, offering his dad a smile. He was sad that they weren't going to be able to finish their shopping trip, but he knew what his dad had to take care of was important. Sitting back in his seat, he rebuckled as his dad backed out of his parking spot and turned for the Grand-Fletcher's house.

Ferb spent the ride staring out the window. His dad had called his dad while they drove to let him know what was going on, but Ferb had tuned out. It was only a quarter past one but he was already feeling drowsy. He knew from past experience that if he fell asleep before tonight he wouldn't see Phineas, but he couldn't help but hold out hope every time he went down for a nap. The redhead was a mystery to Ferb. He didn't start dreaming about him until a week after the divorce and custody battles had started, but every night since he'd find himself in a pretty backyard with a boy he'd never met, yet who seemed to know him immediately and who carried the feeling of brother.

The first time it had happened, he'd found himself sitting under an oak tree bigger around than he'd ever seen with an angular faced boy with almost unnaturally red hair saying "Ferb! I know what we're going to do today!" He hadn't known how this stranger knew his name, but the way he'd said it made it sound familiar and well used, like this was something he did every day. That day they'd built a beach.

Ferb didn't actually learn his companion's name until much later, when a teenager with tangerine colored hair and a neurotic attitude marched out demanding what they were doing. Phineas. Not a name you heard every day. Ferb had tested it out on his tongue later that morning while brushing his teeth and it had felt good. Familiar. Phineas didn't even care that he didn't talk. The kids at Ferb's school thought he was odd, some even making fun of him for his silence, but not Phineas. He respected Ferb's silence like it was the most normal thing, chatting to fill the gap without a care in the world.

Grandpa Reg and Grandma Winifred were waiting for them when they pulled up. As his dad brought the car to a stop and turned it off, Ferb unbuckled and jumped out of the vehicle to give them a hug. The elderly couple wrapped him in a warm hug, enveloping him between the two of them. "Don't worry, dear," his grandma whispered in his ear. "We'll have a spiffing time while your father's taking care of his business." Ferb nodded, smiling at the white haired lady as he pulled away. "Thanks, mom, thanks dad," Ferb's dad said, walking up and greeting his mom with a hug and a kiss to the cheek before offering his dad a handshake.

"Sorry to have to drop Ferb on you both such last minute, but Sarah called and needs me to come down. Ferb tell you he picked out a pumpkin at that little farmer's market in Greenwich?" Grandma Winifred smiled, patting her son on the arm. She was proud of him for going through all this and fighting for what he believed in. "No! Did he now? I'll bet it's a right pretty one. My grandson has quite the eye for lovely things!" Ferb felt his cheeks heat up at the compliment. "Why don't you go get it and show them? Maybe you three can cook some of it up for dinner tonight! Don't worry. Your grandfather will pack some away and we can still make soup or pie later, okay?" Ferb nodded, running for the trunk of the car so he could show his grandparents his find. And maybe the initials on the bottom.