“You got a third eye in the back of your head, Gram,” Simon said.

“You can see that?” Gram turned around on the sofa to look at him with her regular eyes. The third eye was still looking at him, too. “Well now, ain’t that int’rest’in.” Her teeth were out, which made her lips sink inside in a kind of funny way that made Simon want to laugh, but you never laughed at Gram. First, it was rude, and that was a big thing for Mom. Second, you didn’t want to tick off Gram. You paid for ticking off Gram.

“How can I get me one of those?” he said, and stepped a little closer.

“And you ain’t scart, neither,” she declared.

“How can I get me one?” Simon said again.

“You got one. Ev’rybody got one. And yours is even open a teeny bit. You just got to learn to open it up a little more.”

“Show me,” Simon whispered.

“Your Mom ain’t gon’ like that. I wanted her to get more learnin’, but sometimes I think she got too much.”

“I won’t tell.”

And he didn’t.