Steven returned to the garden the next morning wearing the same overalls he wore when he dealt with Watermelon Steven (God rest his fruity soul). He brought along his trowel and gloves, which he hated wearing when it got too sunny but felt that they were necessary to keep dirt out from under his short, stubby fingernails. There was but one cloud in the sky, a cottony, transparent one that had no plans on blocking out the sun. That sun would be necessary for the vegetables in Steven's plot, and it was the sun that he thanked each time he left the garden.

He expected to hear many things when nearing the community garden: birds, cars going down the street, people in one of the nearby houses talking.

Out of all the sounds he expected to hear, an elderly woman screaming was not one of them.

He very nearly dropped his gloves and trowel as he ran to the open gate of the garden. Mrs. O'Brien was in front of her plot. She was pulling on her hair and about to fall to her knees.

"Mrs. O'Brien!" said Steven, "What's wrong?"

Indeed, he ran to her plot to take a look for himself. What he saw made him just as awestruck: the soil in Mrs. O'Brien's plot had turned a dusty light brown and every single one of her vegetable plants had died, including the weeds she had yet to remove.

"My beautiful garden!" she said, "I was about to enter one of those eggplants in a competition!"

Steven saw the scraggly, stringy forms that were once plants. Being unable to cry for help, these plants had simply given up on themselves and accepted their fate. The only question was, how and why did it happen?

Mrs. O'Brien angrily yanked one of the plants out of the ground and showed it to Steven. "These were going to be heirloom tomatoes! Now they're nothing!" The plant she showed Steven had a dried-out, green, bulbous lump that looked somewhat flattened.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. O'Brien." He then scanned his brain to look for any bright sides. "If it makes you feel any better, dried green tomatoes make a good side dish."

The old woman didn't say anything. She just stared down at the lost effort of her old, arthritic hands.

"We need to call an emergency meeting of the Community Garden Club!" Like a responsible digital native, Steven took out his smart phone and pressed the icon for the meetup app known as Clubnutz. As soon as he arrived at the mobile-friendly version of the community garden's page, he made a new post:

"EMERGENCY MEETING: Strange things are happening to the Concept Street Garden. Meet at High School Room 207 as usual by 6 PM tonight for more info and what to do about this."

As soon as he pressed "Submit," he put the phone back into his overall pocket and felt a sense of accomplishment that didn't quite equal that of completing one of those epic gem quests but still made him satisfied.

Steven and the other members of the Community Garden Society met in Room 207 that night. Outside, the hallway was colorful and modern (as most high schools built within the last five years are) but it was also dark, as nobody was expected to be there at that hour of the evening. However, Room 207 was bright and welcoming as it usually was. It was a place where different discussion groups and extracurricular clubs took place. The table was cleaned off so that no signs of previous use by the wildly different social activities remained. The people who came there didn't need to bring much: just notebooks, paper and electronic tablets… and food, since it was dinnertime.

Sweet old Mr. Chervil led the meeting, which was attended by eight people. Even though this was a crisis situation, he was calm as usual. He stood up at the end of the table with his hands cusped together.

"Good evening, fellow gardeners and activists," he said. He sounded much like the public radio announcers that Connie's mother listened to. "And a special 'good evening' to Steven's three… erm… magical mothers."

Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl sat at the left side of the table.

"It's a pleasure to be here, Mr. Chervil," said Garnet. The table was a bit too low to the ground for her and she found herself fidgeting to fit her legs underneath.

"And I'm happy to be of help," said Pearl, who brought her microscope and petri dishes.

Amethyst, on the other hand, was chowing down on the bean-filled fried corn cakes and cabbage salad.

"I'm mostly here for the pupusas," she said with her mouth full. "Thank you, Mrs. Sanchez, for bringing these golden cakes of the gods!"

"De nada," said the fellow society member.

"Well, as long as you're not experim-eating," said Pearl.

"We have been called here to discuss a pressing matter tonight…"

"My babies are dead!" said Mrs. O'Brien, "My edible babies are dead!"

"What she intends to say is that her soil has been struck with a mysterious malady that has managed to kill her plants in a single night. We're at a total loss as to how this has happened but Mrs. O'Brien has brought us a bagged soil sample for Pearl to look at.

Mrs. O'Brien took a bag of peaked soil from her purse and handed it across the table to pearl. Pearl opened the bag and poured some of it into a petri dish, resulting in a small, dusty cloud that, thankfully, didn't get any bigger than a baseball. As soon as she covered the dish, she inserted it under the microscope. She turned on the little light and carefully turned the course gear while her eye watched for anything out of the ordinary.

"Hmm…" hummed Pearl.

Steven and the others stared at Pearl intently.

"Yes, this soil is definitely depleted of its nutrients."

"That much we know," said Mrs. Sanchez, "But what is causing it? And how do we stop it?"

"I don't see anything in this soil suggesting any creature or chemical that siphons off nutrients. One explanation is that these creature or this chemical sucks the soil dry and then flies off somewhere." Pearl looked at Mrs. O'Brien, who looked up from pushing down her cuticles. "Mrs. O'Brien, did you do anything to your garden the night before this happened?"

"Yes," she said, "I added compost to my garden. And what happened was the exact opposite of my intentions."

Steven stiffened and felt his stomach shrink. The compost. That was where he, Amethyst and Connie dumped the rotten oyster. Could the rotten oyster somehow cause something like this to happen?

He swallowed his saliva and managed to calm himself. This was easy since he liked to imagine that his mother within him was the one telling him to calm down and to not be nervous. There was no way that an oyster alone could do something that destructive. And besides, the old lady probably used the compost sometime before Steven added anything to it. Still, he didn't want to bring up this possibility.

"I brought a sample of the compost for comparison," said Mrs. O'Brien. Out of her purse she pulled another plastic bag, this time with dark, healthy soil. She handed it over to Pearl, who took it with pinching fingers.

Pearl was overly sensitive around things that were disgusting or natural but knew that it was necessary to come face-to-face with this mix of soil and rotting refuse for the sake of study. She poured the dark soil into the next petri dish and inspected it under her microscope.

"Nothing out of the ordinary here," she said, "Just decomposing organic material, although it's too bad we don't have other people's compost to compare it to."

"Well if it's just that compost, then maybe we should get different fertilizer to spread on it," said Steven.

"It seems like we will have to do that and put a sign on the compost bin telling people not to use it," said Mr. Chervil. "We may not crack the case of what's been siphoning off out nutrients but we can at least fight it."

The next evening, Steven and the gems came back with four large bags of organic fertilizer (Garnet was carrying three). When they arrived back at the "scene of the crime," Steven had a weird feeling that the patch of dryness was starting to extend outside of Mrs. O'Brien's plot. The grass that stuck out outside of the wood was starting to turn yellow. He really hoped that it was just his imagination.

"All right, everyone!" said Steven. He had put on a sudden mask of positivity as he said this. "Let's get Mrs. O'Brien's vegetable garden back!"

The first thing he did was start digging the dusty soil out of the plot and into the trash bag that he brought along. He made sure not to get any of the tainted soil on the ground as he did this.

Amethyst put her hand on Steven's shoulder.

"Allow me," she said. In a flash of light, she transformed into a small, purple bulldozer with her face still intact and plowed the dust into the bag as Steven held it open. This was much faster than his idea.

Soon enough, all of the drained soil was gone from the plot… but Steven then noticed a large, noticeable crack at its bottom. It struck the wood in a way where it buckled with the force of whatever was put on it. The center had a space big enough for something small to slip through.

"You guys!" said Steven, "Look at this!"

The gems were intrigued at the formation but not necessarily horrified, at least not yet.

"Whatever's been taking the soil must have slipped under the ground," said Pearl. She had the worried tone in her voice that she usually had when something goes wrong at a temple or in a dungeon.

All the while, Steven kept thinking to himself, "An oyster totally didn't do this."

"It's probably from the pressure of something heavy that was in this plot," he said.

"Yeah, like a giant mutant turnip," quipped Amethyst.

Steven then straightened his stance and looked at the sky while scrunching his forehead to look important. "Yes… like a giant mutant turnip!"

"That was sarcasm, buddy."

All four of them cut open each bag and poured the dark, clumpy soil into the plot. Steven could detect manure in its odor but it was a more refined version of the odor which was offset by more tolerable earthy smells. Since he was wearing gloves, he was not afraid of really reaching into the bag and grabbing as much soil as he could. Pearl, of course, wore gloves when pouring out her bag but Amethyst was not afraid to get down and dirty. In fact, from the way she was spreading out her contribution, she was about ready to wallow in it. Garnet took virtually no time to empty her bag. Her strength made it so that she could just pick up the bottom corners like a blanket and have all of the soil fall out at once.

Once they were done, Steven took his right hand out of his gardening glove and wiped his sweaty brow.

"Well, guys," he said, "We did good today."

"You mean we've done well, Steven," said Pearl.

"Grammar this time?" asked Amethyst, "It's like you find any reason whatsoever to nag."

"Well if it weren't for me nagging you guys would forget to put up the sign we made." Out of her bag, she pulled a sign that said "This stuff is dangerous! Do not use!"

Steven took the sign and hung it on the compost bin by looping its string around the middle latch. He tilted it so that it didn't look too crooked and to provide some civility to make up for Amethyst's somewhat sloppy handwriting.

Steven and the Crystal Gems left the scene correcting a horrible mistake with an unknown cause or nature. Then again, they weren't familiar with where all the monsters that attacked town came from. The soil was ready for new life and new color.

On the next lovely summer morning, Steven and Connie rode their bikes around town. They tried to outrace each other on the street while at the same time be mindful of where they were going. Steven pumped his stout legs as much as he could, feeling the rush as his bike sped past Connie's. It wasn't a competition, though; otherwise they wouldn't have been giggling the entire time.

They continued their racing venture on Concept Street and Steven won the race… until he noticed that it was because Connie stopped short at a strange sight. Steven stopped as well when he saw that a crowd of people were gathered outside of the Concept Street Community Garden. Some of them were fellow gardeners that Steven had recognized from the meetings and the garden visits whereas others were just gawkers.

"Has anybody called the police yet?" asked one person.

"Are you sure it's the police you should get for this matter?" asked another, "Not a paranormal investigator?"

Steven parked his bike and ran over to the crowd. Unfortunately, he was shorter than many of the people there so he skootched his way to the front since he was too polite to shove.

What he saw was nothing short of astonishing. It was the exact opposite of the intended actions of last night: The entire community garden had turned into a desert. Every plot, including Steven's, looked like Mrs. O'Brien's. Goodbye to the string beans. So long, Boston lettuce. Arrivederci, tomatoes that Steven wanted to use in an experimental sauce. The grass around it had withered and curled into brown and gold strands. There were no animals venturing near the garden – the squirrels looked for burying places elsewhere and the birds were singing but they were singing somewhere else. Overnight, the garden became the husk of its previous state, devoid of color and giving the impression that it had been neglected by the rain and sunlight.

And then there was Mrs. O'Brien's plot, which looked as if it was sinking into the center of the garden.

"Steven whats – Oh my gosh!" said Connie.

"No, this can't happen!" said Steven, "We put in new fertilizer!"

"Maybe you should call the other gems about this."

Steven grabbed his cell phone and pressed Pearl's name in the contacts list. Once he heard the three beeps, Pearl picked up.

"Pearl!" said Steven.

"Steven!" said Pearl, "I'm fighting off a worm creature. What's the matter?"

"The garden is dead, Pearl! Everything is dead!"

There was silence over the phone. At first, Steven thought that Pearl was speechless until he heard the grunting of thrusting attacks in the background.

"I'm sorry, what was that? This creature won't leave me alone."

"The entire garden is dead. There's no life left in the soil."

"Stay there, Steven. Garnet, Amethyst and I will evaluate the scene for more clues as to what's going on. I'm sure there's a more… magical… explanation for what's going on."

Connie took some of the hair in front of her shoulder and twisted it. Her eyes were nervous, quivering pools. It made Steven almost regret correcting her vision since she was using it to see Ground Zero of something that would surely eat the town.

"I heard the word 'magic' in there," she said.

"Well that's what happens when scientific things are ruled out," said Steven. He didn't intend to sound worried but he did. He looked down and rubbed his arm. He hated awkward moments like this and he wanted it to go away in favor of having summertime fun again. He had the feeling that these moments were going to become more prevalent as he got older.

Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl eventually arrive to see the damage for themselves and they were no less shocked about the encroaching desert.

"Oh my…" said Pearl.

"It must be caused by something small and concentrated as opposed to something spread out," said Garnet.

"Heaven knows what kind of corrupted gem could be doing something like this. That's the only logical conclusion I can come up with."

"Ladies, we're going to have to have you move a few feet back," said a police officer. In his hand was hazard tape slowly unraveling as he walked by with the words "CAUTION: DO NOT CROSS" repeated in black letters on a yellow background. Now things were getting serious.

Steven stared at what used to be the garden and felt the guilt sneaking up on him and tickling him all over his body. As he watched the desert very slowly expand (something that was done only if one could look closely enough), he couldn't take it any longer. He hated keeping secrets or lying, so like a shaken-up bottle of soda, his confession popped out.

"It was me!" he said. In hindsight, he shouldn't have done this in front of a police officer but there was no backing out of this now. "It was the oyster that did this! I dumped that oyster you spit out into the compost!"

"Steven!" said Pearl, "You know that animal products don't belong in the compost!"

"I think that's the least of our worries, Pearl," said Garnet.

"It wasn't just me, though. Amethyst and I did it!"

"Hey!" said Amethyst, "Why are you dragging me into this? It was your idea!"

"But you could have stopped me!"

"Stop arguing, you two!" said Pearl, "Now, Steven, can you explain to me how you think the rotten oyster did this?"

Steven hadn't thought that far. He picked the first possible explanation off the top of his head.

"I don't know… maybe your saliva is deadly, Pearl?"

Needless to say, Pearl was not too flattered with this explanation. She put her fists on her hips and leered at Steven.

Connie turned around to contribute to the conversation.

"Amethyst, you said there was something shiny in the rotten oyster," she said.

"Yeah there was, wasn't there?" asked Amethyst.

"And what shiny thing grows inside an oyster?"

There was a pause before Steven said his answer.

"A pearl!" he said with his index finger pointed upward.

"And where did that oyster come from?"

"It came from the seafood place at the Ocean Festival," said Amethyst.

"And where was the oyster cultivated?" asked Garnet, continuing the chain of questions.

"Uncle Dizzy's Oyster Farm. Said it right there on the sign."

"And where is Uncle Dizzy's Oyster Farm located?"

Amethyst started to look uneasy at this point. Steven shared her feelings, both because of his developed sense of empathy and because he had every reason to feel that same feeling of having his nerves turn to jello.

"By the kindergarten." Amethyst scratched the back of her head and squinted her eyes.

"The same kindergarten where you were made and that still has traces of bio-serum and other life-giving chemicals from its heyday, which can very well leech into the surrounding water."

Once again, there was silence among the group, except that this silence lasted considerably longer and involved everyone looking at everyone else. Pearl and Garnet had no reason to feel guilty about this but still had to deal with the consequences. Amethyst balled her fist and coughed. Connie twirled her hair. Normally, Steven felt a sense of accomplishment (much like with the dungeon example) when he put puzzle pieces together, especially if it was a picture of a boat or an old painting or a pretty garden. But this picture was considerably ugly and unable to be broken apart easily. Conflict was about to come up and he knew it just as much as everyone else did.