"That was Gump, I guess."

"Yeah."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I was a magic, talking wolf. He didn't exactly buy that. I guess by his age they're pretty much past the point where they believe in magic."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I told him not to go to that chat room again. I told him . . ." Her lip quivered suddenly. "I told him not to talk to his father about Yeerks.

Told him not to . . ." Her voice was strangled. She gritted her teeth and squeezed out the last few words. "I told that little boy not to trust his father."

There were tears running down her face. I guess they were running down my face, too. One of the things Cassie and I share is that we trust our parents, unlike some people, I guess.

"What a terrible thing for me to do," Cassie said. "What a filthy, disgusting thing for me to do."

"It was the best you could do," I said. "It was all you could do. I guess it's hard to fight evil without doing some along the way." Maybe there was a little "I told you so" in my voice.

Cassie just walked away. I let her go. Not

everything can be settled. Not everything can be smoothed over.

A few days later they showed a fire on the TV news. It was a very big story because it was this huge mansion.

The mansion belonged to billionaire Joe Bob Fenestre. Fenestre was safe.

No one was hurt.

I remembered warning him that he was safe only as long as he stayed in that house. Now it was no longer possible for him to stay in the house.

Did the mansion burn down on its own? Or did someone start the fire that deprived that evil creature of sanctuary?

If someone set the fire, there was a long list of suspects. Visser Three. Cassie. One of the others.

Me.

I guess you'll never know.

I make mistakes. I fail sometimes. Sometimes I'm just plain stupid.

Sometimes there is no right answer to the problems we face, but what can you do but keep trying to figure the answer out, anyway? What else can you do?

About a week went by after the fire before I went to Cassie's house. She was in the barn, taking care of the sick animals.

I didn't ask her any questions, and she didn't ask me. I helped her put a splint on a deer with a broken leg. It was nice because, you know, it was just a good thing to do, no second-guessing, no doubts.

And after a while Cassie and I started talking and even laughing. The others came over and we talked about flying. But instead of flying, we stayed there and shoveled the manure out of the barn.

The six of us shoveled dirty hay, and Marco made dumb jokes, and Ax tried to eat a cow pie, and Rachel moaned about Cassie's pathetic taste in clothing, and we were us again.

For now.