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The next day, with the sun shining through the windows, the vision of the night before seemed absurd and almost comical.  George decided he must have been imagining things.  He had learned that his mind could run away from him sometimes in the middle of the night, when the world was dark.  How could some dog-like creatures on a spaceship of some kind be holding his father captive?  The idea seemed ludicrous, although still somewhat unsettling.

As the day wore on, George grew fitful and restless.  He needed something to take his mind off the vision of the night before.  Finally, in a fit of extreme boredom, George agreed to go grocery shopping with his mother.  Normally he avoided grocery shopping like the plague, but Jason was still out of town and Alex and Michael had just come down with the measles. 

Once in the store, George’s mother looked at her shopping list and frowned.  “I need a can of pickled peaches for your aunt Agnes,” she said to George, as if buying such a bizarre thing was an everyday occurrence.  “She called the other day and asked me to bring her some when we go there this weekend.  It’s for some new diet she’s trying.” 

“Pickled peaches?” said George in disgust.  “How could anybody eat that?”

His mother looked at him sweetly and smiled.  “You know your Aunt Agnes.  Anyway, could you go and look for it?  I really don’t know where such a thing would be found in this store, and I’ve got other things to get.”

“I suppose,” replied George unenthusiastically. There was nothing else to do, other than look at cereal boxes. 

George set off down the aisles to begin his search.  He quickly found the canned fruit section, but there were no pickled peaches.  He tried the diet section, but there was nothing there either.  He was just about to go back and tell his mother pickled peaches didn’t exist when he sensed something hot in his pocket.  It was the rock from the fallen star, which he now always carried with him. 

George pulled it out and looked at it.  He held it up to the light.  Nothing looked different through it.  Why was it hot now?  There were no test questions in a grocery store to solve or spaceships through a dark window to see.  With mounting curiosity, George held it up to a maze on the back of a cereal box.  He saw nothing different through the rock at all.

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Putting it back in his pocket, George turned to go find his mother.  But, unexpectedly, he found himself heading instead to another section of the store, to an aisle he hadn’t been down yet.  Halfway down this aisle, on the right, he found the pickled food section.  And on the lowest shelf was a can of pickled peaches.

With mounting excitement, George pulled the rock from his pocket.  He held it up to the can of pickled peaches, but saw nothing different through it.  The rock was not as hot now.  It was cooling down fast.  George put it back in his pocket.

What did it all mean?  First it answered math questions and now it somehow helped him find a can of pickled peaches.  What would it do next?  Wasn’t there any way to control it?  And why was it helping him, but only at unexpected times?

Suddenly George heard his mother’s voice behind him.  “I see you found the pickled peaches.  I never would have thought of looking here.”

As George handed her the can, she squinted her eyes at him.  “What’s wrong?” she asked suddenly. 

“Nothing,” said George quickly.  He knew she had an uncanny ability to sense when things were not quite normal.  “I was just surprised to actually find a can of pickled peaches.  I thought such a thing couldn’t exist.”

George’s mother gave him a long, hard look.  Then she sighed and looked away.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.  “It’s just that …”

George looked at the floor.  He knew what she was thinking.  She used to sense when strange things happened to his father too. 

“O.k., lets get back to this list,” she said abruptly.  “Go and find me a hairnet.”

When George got home, he went to his room and took the rock from his pocket again.  Going over to the window, he held it up to the sunlight.  It seemed to magnify the light shining through it, making everything around it brighter.  He turned it around.  It seemed to glitter inside, as if happy to be in the sunlight.  But it was still cold as ice.  Finally, George put it back on his dresser.

Where had the rock come from, and what powers did it have?  That it was not an ordinary rock was now obvious.  But why had it come to him?  Was he supposed to use it somehow?  If so, how was he supposed to control it?  And how would he find the answers to these questions?

Suddenly George heard a voice behind him, deep and raspy.

“George Brown!” it hissed. “I’ve been waiting for you!”