George sat at the dinner table, dabbling with his food.  After the weeks of bland teddy bear food and strange roots and berries on L91, he should have been gorging himself on the mashed potatoes and meatloaf in front of him.  But his mind was in far too much turmoil to care about eating.

“What’s wrong, George?” said his mother worriedly.  She had already asked him this half a dozen times since he arrived home—every time he had drifted off again into his silent, melancholy mood.

“Nothing,” said George quickly, picking up his fork, and shoveling some mashed potatoes into his mouth.  It tasted wonderful. 

“There is too something wrong!” said his mother suspiciously. “I can tell you’re preoccupied with something.  What happened?”  His mother had an uncanny sense of when things were not right.

“Nothing happened,” George lied, spearing some meatloaf, and gulping it down.  How could he possibly tell her that her husband was back on earth but was only 2 inches tall, and was just a short distance away under the front hood of a Volkswagen Beetle?

“He’s hiding something, Mom,” said Janet with a saucy flicker of her eyes.  She never lost a chance to make things harder for him.  “Something’s happened for sure.”

“What happened?” asked his mother again, her fears fed by Janet’s statement. 

“Nothing,” lied George again.  “I was just playing out at the orchard, and came home. That’s all.”  That was true—if you could ignore all that had happened in between!

His mother scowled at him, but asked nothing more.  Seeing that he was already on thin ice, George tried with all his might to act normal.  He forked more of the food in his mouth.  He had to admit, it tasted pretty good.

At last dinner was over, and George was able to escape to his room.  As soon as he got there, he closed the door, slipped the ring from his finger, and said, “Protector.  Are you there?”

There was no answer for a minute.  Then suddenly the Protector’s voice sounded in his ear.

“George?  Are you all right?”

“Sure, I’m fine,” said George.  “How’s my Dad?”

“He seems to be just fine,” answered the Protector.  “He and I are just watching the 6 o’clock intergalactic news.  Nothing’s changed.”

“Good,” said George.  He couldn’t explain why, but he felt uneasy and worried.  But he knew it was probably just a nervous reaction to all that he had been through.

“Your father is asking whether you told your mother about him,” relayed the Protector.

“No, not a word,” said George.  “But she suspects something.  She keeps asking what’s wrong and what’s happened.”  He paused.  “I don’t think I can keep this up much longer.”

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There was a pause on the other end.  Then the Protector’s voice said, “Your father says not to worry—for sure, he’s coming home with you tomorrow, after you’ve been here.  Just do the best you can until then.”

“Sure,” said George.  Suddenly, he didn’t know what else to say.  “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” said George.

“Until tomorrow,” said the Protector.  “It’s good to be home, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” said George. 

After hanging up, he paced the room anxiously.  Something was not right.  He could feel it.  He had been so caught up in what was happening at L91, and before that with the Grak and the Uth stones and the teddy bear zoo that he just hadn’t been able to think things through clearly.  But now that he was here, in his familiar and safe surroundings, he knew that something was wrong.  And he knew as well that it had to do with his father.

He just wasn’t acting normally.  Why hadn’t he come home tonight?  Why didn’t he want to tell George’s mother he was back?  Didn’t he want to see his wife and daughter, who he hadn’t seen for a year?

But that wasn’t all.  What about all of the strange behavior over the last few weeks, ever since he had rescued George on the teddy bear planet?  George had been so relieved to see him again, he had been overlooking it until now.  But he couldn’t keep doing that forever.

Why hadn’t his father ever let him touch him?  And what about that time he did touch him, on L91?  Of course, he was under the influence of the dream world then, so it was hard to know what was real and what wasn’t at the time.  But why had his skin felt so pliable, almost like play-do?

And what about his father’s odd refusal to leave L91?  George hadn’t dreamed that!  His father had seemed insanely happy about his tree house there, as if it had helped him to come alive somehow.  And then there was his strange reaction when they first arrived in the Protector’s home.  He had seemed almost disappointed to be there for some reason.  None of it made any sense.

George suddenly felt a tightness in his finger.  Someone was calling him on the ring phone!

Quickly he pulled it off and put it into his ear.  “George?” said a familiar voice.  It wasn’t the Protector.  It was Jiu Na!  From China!  The girl who had also lost her father, and who not that long ago had shared a similar experience with the Grak that he had had.  He had forgotten all about her, he had been so absorbed in his own problems.

“Yeah, this is George,” he said quickly.  “Boy, have I got a lot to tell you!”

“And I’ve got a lot to tell you!” she cried.  “My father came back—and then disappeared again!”