Chapter Five

"Hey there, little one, are you okay?"

The voice, which seemed to have been saying the same thing for a while, finally stirred Blue in his cocoon of misery. He had no idea how long he had been lying there, but he was cold and wet and had long since run out of tears. He was shivering, for the snow was coming down more heavily now, and the shadows under the expressway had gotten darker and gloomier. It was plainly later in the day, and he had no way of knowing that miles away at that very moment, Warden Thurmer was leaving the prison to come fetch him at the school. The question was repeated, and he thought for a moment that it might be Minion, until he felt what was plainly a hand touch his arm. No, he didn't know who this was, and he didn't care. If it wasn't Minion, he just couldn't care. He rolled away as far as he could, turning his back to the stranger.

The voice spoke again. "Well, at least you're moving, that's good, but looks to me like you're turning blue from the cold, and that's not." The hand moved to touch the back of his exposed neck. The palm of the hand was scratchy, like old woolen socks, but the bare fingertips were warm and gentle. "Hmm, you're cold as ice, all right, and these wet clothes you're in sure can't be helping. C'mon now, little fella, let's get you out of this puddle and — Jehoshaphat!"

The peculiar word was spoken in great surprise when the stranger carefully rolled him out of the half-frozen water and slush, even though Blue was about as cooperative as a sack of potatoes. He didn't bother to open his eyes, and wished that this person would just leave him alone. He was sure that he would; the odd word hadn't exactly sounded pleased, and when most people got a good look at him, they were quick to get away from Blue, as if he were some kind of contagious disease.

But he heard no evidence of the person getting up and running away. In fact, what he heard after a few moments was a warm chuckle. "Well, now, there's one on me! I thought you'd gone blue from the cold, and here it looks like that's just the way you are. Can't say I've ever met a person who's blue — who's got the blues, maybe, but not blue like a summer sky. It's something new to me, that's for sure!"

Even in his doldrums, Blue felt twinges of surprise. This person didn't sound like he was making fun of him; he was talking like he was actually... interested, and his voice seemed very naturally friendly, a little like Officer Davis' voice, only deeper. His curiosity piqued, Blue cracked open one eye to take a peek at the stranger.

The man, who was smiling, noticed, and smiled more broadly. He had a lined and weathered face that was older than most of Blue's prison "uncles," but his brown eyes were bright and clear and friendly. His hair and beard were a little longer than Blue was used to seeing at the prison, a little bit ragged, but a clean silver-white very different from Big Jake's dingy yellowed gray. He was a husky fellow, and was wearing a big coat of tired red wool, with a slightly stained white scarf around his neck and a red knit hat on his head that was very much like the one the warden had loaned him. His brown gloves were missing the fingertips, the knees of his brown trousers had been patched, and his black winter boots were worn. His nose and cheeks were reddened with the cold, and still, he had stopped to check on the strange boy lying in the gutter. That fact amazed Blue, since not that long ago, Ms Driscoll hadn't cared if he lived or died. This was, he thought, most extraordinary.

The green eyes opened fully, blinking in wonder as his mind whizzed with possibilities. He quickly settled on one. "Are — are you Mr. Claus?" He was doubtful, since there was no evidence of the wonderful inventions the stories had talked about, at least in Blue's interpretation of things. But his clothing seemed sort of right, and there was no denying that this was a kinder person than Blue had expected to encounter in this miserable place. That he hadn't screamed or cursed on seeing his blue skin — and Blue knew a lot about curses, having been exposed to a remarkable variety of them in the prison, and the odd word this man had uttered didn't really sound like one — placed him well into the benevolent person category Mr. Claus was said to inhabit.

The man laughed more fully now, a laugh that was neither mocking nor cruel. "You never can tell, kid, you never can tell," he said in a good-humored manner. "My name is Nick, though, which I guess is close enough for some. What's yours?"

"Blue," he answered, suddenly finding the name completely inadequate, like a stupid movie he'd once seen where a boy was named "Boy."

Nick appeared to agree. "Blue? That's a nickname, right?"

Blue shrugged. "It's what everyone calls me. I didn't think it was too bad. In the—" He caught himself before he said prison. At school, everybody knew about him living there, but he had a feeling this might turn the stranger against him, and he found he didn't want that. "Where I live, there's a Mr. Brown and a Mrs. Green, and a Mr. Black and a Dr. White. Uncle Jimbo has a wife named Scarlet, Uncle Dirk's daughter is Violet, and Uncle Mack says his girlfriend is called Pinky. I didn't think Blue was so bad, since I am."

Nick saw his point. "That's a fact. Are you lost, Blue, or did you run away from home?"

Blue considered his answer, and decided on the truth. "Both," he admitted meekly. "I... lost a friend of mine, and I came here to find him. I didn't, and I don't think he's coming back." Fresh tears welled in the big green eyes as the thought of what had happened to Minion tore at his heart.

Nick saw his distress, and was sympathetic. "That's rough. But maybe he's lost, too, and it'll just take a little more time before he shows up."

But Blue shook his head, sure now that such a miracle wouldn't happen. He remembered the sight of the rats dragging their prey down into the sewers, and shuddered.

The old man patted his shoulder, seeing his tears. "There, there, son, it'll be all right, you'll see. I'll understand if you don't want to go home yet, but we've got to get you someplace warmer and drier. The cold may have nothing to do with the color of your skin, but from the way you're shaking, it's plain that you're frozen right to the marrow."

He helped the boy sit up. Blue winced when the man put one hand behind his head to lift it from the pavement and pressed against the bump. Nick frowned, but with worry. His fingers touched the spot more carefully as his eyes swept the slender body. "That's a fair sized lump you've got back there, and I see your knee's taken a few scrapes, too. Anything else been hurt?"

"My ankle," Blue said as he pointed to the one he'd twisted. Even as he said it, he wondered why he was telling this to a stranger. In his experience, when people asked if he was hurt, too often it was just to hurt him some more. It was admitting to weakness, and could be exploited. "It's not too bad," he added, thinking that if he minimized the situation, there would be no negative repercussions.

"It's bad enough," Nick contradicted, "since it's a bit of a hike to my place. But you're small, and it won't be any trouble to carry you. Been a long time since I carried kids piggyback."

Blue had no idea what he meant. His confusion must have been obvious, so Nick explained to him how it was done. "I'll be careful with that knee, I promise," he said when the boy reacted to the whole idea with another doubtful look. "I've got some things to take care of it proper back at my place, and I'll wager you're getting a mite hungry, too, aren't you?"

At the mere mention of food, Blue's stomach let out a huge growl, embarrassing him. He was grateful when Nick didn't laugh. "We can take care of that, too. You like peppermint, son?"

Blue nodded vigorously without thinking. Mint was one of those things that his acute sense of smell made wonderfully enjoyable, though he only got it when one of his "uncles" or a guard slipped him a piece of candy, usually a tiny green or white pellet, but occasionally a little round disc. When Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a red and white striped stick longer than one of the boy's fingers, Blue's eyes went wide. He had gotten something like this last Christmas from one of the guards, but that had been a whole year ago.

Nick smiled. "Go ahead, take it," he said when the boy hesitated. "I've got more."

Blue reached out tentatively, afraid that this was a trick — the kids at school had done such things often enough, offering him treats only to snatch them away at the last second. Nick saw his hesitance. He placed the candy in the timidly outstretched hand and gently closed Blue's fingers around it. "All yours," he assured the child, smiling more broadly when Blue immediately popped one end of the stick into his mouth and started sucking. He took a good look at the boy's thin body, now that he wasn't so tightly curled in on himself. Concern seeped into his expression. "Yeah, we'll have to see about you getting some proper food. You're nothing but skin and bones. Who's been looking after you?"

The question stopped Blue's eager sucking on the peppermint stick. He pulled it from his mouth, his brief look of pleasure suddenly turning to heartbreak, his joy in the treat gone. "Minion," he said softly, his eyes once again filling with traitorous tears. "But he's gone."

"Minion?" Nick repeated. "Is that the friend you were looking for?" When Blue nodded, he tried to be encouraging. "Well, it's a big city. He's probably looking for you, too. I'm sure he'll turn up soon."

Nick's confidence was too much for Blue. The tears escaped despite his best efforts to hold them back in front of this stranger. "I don't think so," he said in a small voice. "I — I think he's dead."

The man's smile disappeared. "Are you sure? Did you see something happen to him?"

Blue shrugged miserably. "I think so. I'm not sure. But what I saw... It scared me."

Nick mulled this over. He'd been on the streets long enough to know what the boy might have seen. "I imagine it did," he consoled, patting Blue's good knee as he pulled an old but clean handkerchief from another pocket to wipe away his tears. "Lots of scary things happen out here, but some things look scarier than they really are. Are you sure it was your friend you saw?"

Blue started to say yes, but being basically honest at heart, he stopped himself before the word left his lips. He had to admit that he wasn't sure that it had been Minion the rats had dragged into the sewer, but if that was so, then something else had happened to take him away without leaving so much as a trace beyond those glass shards. Maybe he had fallen into one of the trucks that had left their tracks in the snow. If so, he could be a hundred miles away by now, with no way of getting home. Or maybe someone had found him and taken him, and was holding him prisoner...

He shivered, trying not to think these awful thoughts. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But he's gone. He didn't wait for me, and I know he would've, unless something bad happened."

"That's always a possibility," Nick agreed. "But isn't it also possible that he's just gotten lost out there, looking for you? Don't you think he would look for you?"

Blue considered this for a moment, then nodded. "He would." Of that, he was certain. "But then, how will he find me, if we're both lost?"

Nick's encouraging smile returned. "There're a few ways. We can go to the police, if you think he'd go to them..." When Blue instantly shook his head, he dropped the idea. "Then the next best thing is to use the old Boy Scout way: find a safe spot and stay put. If you keep moving, you get more lost, and make it harder to be found. This isn't the safest place, here, especially not with you half-frozen and the snow coming down. Sometimes after dark, this district can get a little rough, and it's no place for a youngster like you, all alone. We'll go back to my place. It's safe, you can get dry and warm, have something better to eat, and stay there as long as you like. I know how to leave word on the streets so when your friend comes looking for you, he'll be able to find you, but not the police or anyone you don't want to find you. Does that sound good?"

It was a plan, and Blue liked that. He always liked having plans for things, so he knew just what to do to reach his goal. Still, he wasn't sure. It was true, he didn't know that the rats had been dragging Minion, as he also knew that there was no definite evidence that his sphere had been broken. He was pretty certain that Minion would have waited for him to come, if he hadn't been hurt in the fall — but how long had he lain there at the bottom of the steep embankment, unconscious? It could have been five minutes, or it could have been five hours. And if it had been hours, Minion might very well have started to come after him. He knew that his fishy friend would trust that his master would try to find him, and if he didn't come...

The myriad possibilities of the situation started to make Blue's head spin, and brought back the throb from his lump. He didn't know what was the right thing to do, and the sound of his frustration escaped him as a whimper.

Nick could see his quandary, and took pity on him. "It's all right, Blue, everything's going to be all right. A little fellow like you shouldn't have to be faced with decisions like this. If you're willing to trust me, I can take care of things. But only if you want. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

A part of Blue screamed, Don't trust him, you can't trust a stranger, you can't trust anybody, he'll hurt you...! But another part of him, a quiet, secret part that he had been learning to hide, said, He's been nice to you, he hasn't done anything scary, he wants to help. You're lost, you're hurt, you need help. You can't just stay here. Minion wouldn't want you to stay anywhere that isn't safe.

For what felt like a very long time, the little alien sat there, looking off into the falling snow, at a loss. His eyes shifted toward the spot where he'd thought Minion had smashed into the pavement, but it was lost now under a much thicker blanket of snow. His gaze slipped back to his hands, and saw the peppermint stick still clutched in one small fist.

It brought to mind a day earlier in the week, when one of the kids, Jason, had brought a big box of candy canes to school. Ms Driscoll had thought it a wonderful treat, and Jason had gone around the room, passing them out to the other students, one by one. Blue had been able to smell the peppermint the moment the box was opened, and he had waited in quiet excitement for his turn to come. But it never did. When all the others had their candy, Jason took one look at Blue, said there wasn't any more, and returned to his seat. But he had lied; the box was still half full, and during recess, he'd shared the remaining treats with his friends. Blue wasn't his friend, that much had been made clear, and Ms Driscoll hadn't thought anything of Jason's cruel rudeness.

And yet, this worn old stranger had given him a whole peppermint stick for his very own, had offered him a place to get warm and dry, and food to eat. He had offered to help his hurts get better, had offered his protection. It was just a piece of candy, but in that moment, Blue suddenly felt as if he was holding a great treasure in his hand.

He looked up at Nick, who was patiently waiting. He tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. Softly, however, he said, "Okay. I'll come with you."

There was no mistaking the man's concerned relief. He'd actually been worried about leaving the boy alone in the cold, and Blue knew he'd made the right decision. People who hurt him never showed concern or relief for anything or anyone but themselves. "That's fine, son, just fine. C'mon, then, let's get going."

Nick stood up and helped Blue to his feet. When he put his weight on his injured ankle, it hurt; he staggered slightly, and Nick caught him. "Maybe carrying you piggyback isn't the best idea," he reflected, not wanting to risk causing the slight boy any additional pain. "No problem, though. You're small enough and light enough for me to handle the old-fashioned way."

He lifted Blue into his arms, one under the thin legs and the other around the narrow shoulders. "Think you can put one arm around my neck? It'll make this a little easier." Blue nodded and did so, keeping the peppermint stick in his free hand. "That's good," Nick approved, adjusting his scarf that so the thin arm around his neck was covered. "Don't want you getting any colder," he explained with a smile, then started off.

After they had gone about a block or so from the dead end street, Blue decided this wasn't a bad way to travel, especially under the circumstances. Nick was warm, which was welcome to him, and he smelled of cinnamon and mint. Blue liked both smells, which was a pleasant change after the stinks from the alley and the trucks and the Office. As Nick fell into an even stride, Blue went back to sucking on his candy, allowing its sweet taste and the nice smells and the much needed warmth to take away some of the aching tension that had made his whole body taut as a bowstring. The sugar eased the rumbling hunger in his belly, and the rhythm of their movement soon relaxed him. He leaned his head against the softness of Nick's thick scarf, closed his eyes, and, still sucking contentedly on his candy, he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

He woke abruptly at the sound of a heavy metallic clang! Startled and disoriented, Blue tensed and began to panic, until he heard a kind chuckle near his ear. "Sorry, little Blue, didn't mean to wake you like that," Nick apologized. "I didn't want to put you down, and this door's a mite hard to open with just my foot."

Blue looked all around, and saw what had made the noise. Nick had brought him to an empty alley at the back of a big building with a large and weather-faded WAREHOUSE FOR SALE OR LEASE sign over a long line of large closed doors that were several feet above the pavement. There were a number of dumpsters along a blank brick wall opposite the doors, but their lack of smell told Blue that they had been empty for a long time. The noise had been made when Nick had opened a heavy metal door at the top of a small set of stairs, the entrance to what a sign above the entrance said was the Receiving Office for the warehouse.

"Here we go," Nick said cheerfully as he stepped inside. "It isn't much, but I call it home, for now."

From what Blue could see in the light that entered from the open door and a single grimy window, it wasn't much. The room was rather small, and boasted a few pieces of old office furniture: a desk half-covered with a jumble of boxes and bags, three battered old office chairs, a couple of rusty filing cabinets, as well as a small space heater and a hot plate atop a very small table. Old clothes were hung on a row of hooks along one wall, and a narrow folding cot was shoved into one corner. Opposite the entrance were two more half-open doors, one of which was a washroom, the other some kind of storage closet, filled with a variety of old crates and boxes.

"You live here?" Blue asked, wondering why anyone would live in the office of an empty warehouse.

Nick laughed softly as he settled the boy in the largest of the chairs, which was surprisingly comfortable. "I know, it's not much to look at. But I haven't had any work for a few years now, and when the people who own the warehouse said I could stay here if I kept an eye on the place to make sure the hoods don't start using it for a hangout, I thought it was a good deal. Better than the streets, and the mission's not far away. It's warm here, I've got a roof over my head, a place to wash up, food when I need it — can't ask for much more, sometimes. Enough about me. Let's get you taken care of."

Half an hour later, Blue's wet clothes and shoes were spread out to dry near the space heater, his injuries all cleaned and bandaged. Nick had bundled him into a long, soft shirt, overlarge socks, and several slightly tattered blankets — stuff the mission had been getting rid of, he explained. Blue wasn't sure what he meant by a mission, but it didn't matter. The blankets were warm, as was the canned tomato soup Nick had heated up on the hot plate while he tended to the boy's scrapes and bumps and sore ankle. While Blue ate the soup and crackers he'd been offered, Nick stepped out for a few minutes, "To leave word with friends," he explained so that Blue wouldn't worry that he was being abandoned.

When he was gone, Blue glanced around the room as best he could, for the outside light was failing with the day, and there was no lamp inside. He wasn't in the mood to look any more closely, and was content to remain bundled up in his chair, feeling the warmth of the soup and the blankets and the small heater finally thawing his bones. He thought that Nick might be one of the homeless people he sometimes heard mentioned on television; if he was, he seemed to have it better than most. He plainly didn't have a lot, but he shared it willingly, and Blue thought that was very kind of him. By now, he was certain Nick wasn't the mythical Mr. Claus, but at the moment, he didn't think anyone could have been nicer. He wished Minion had been with him to share this little adventure, but Nick's unexpected concern and generosity helped eased the sting in his heart, just a little. If Minion couldn't be there, it was nice to know that somebody cared.

Nick returned in a little over ten minutes, covered with snow and carrying a couple of plastic sacks. "Good thing we got here when we did," he told Blue as he set down the bags, brushed off the snow, then took off his coat and draped it over the back of an empty chair. Removing it revealed a worn but bright red sweater and a pair of dark green suspenders. "Wind's picked up and blowing right off the lake, so we've got a heap of snow coming in."

With the coat set down to dry, he went to the file cabinets, pulled open a drawer, and brought out several candles in jars, which he lit then set about the room, giving the place a warm, soft glow. "My last light bulb blew a few weeks back," he explained as he worked. "Haven't been able to get a new one yet, but these'll do, and I can get more from a priest I know, any time I need 'em. Power can be iffy here, sometimes, so they come in handy. I stopped by the mission and told my friends there that I've got little boy blue over to visit, so if they hear of anyone looking for you, they'll know where you are. And don't worry that they'll tell the wrong people, they know how to tell friend from foe. The mission ladies wanted to make sure you're taken care of proper, so they sent a few extra things." From the sacks, Nick produced various containers of food, several pieces of fruit, and some warm chocolate chip cookies (which Blue had smelled as soon as he'd opened the door), along with a few pairs of dry socks, a pair of black children's sweat pants, and a pair of bright blue mittens and a matching cap.

"They get a lot of donations, this time of year, especially for kids, so they were happy to share," Nick explained as he helped Blue wiggle into the pants and socks without unwrapping his blankets.

Like most clothes, they were a little loose on the alien, but the drawstring waist held them up quite comfortably. He offered Blue a cookie and an apple, which he took with a soft, "Thank you." He looked from one to the other, knowing that he should eat the apple first, but enticed by the delicious sweet smell of the warm cookie.

Seeing his quandary, Nick grinned. "It's Christmas Eve, son, and I don't know about you, but I think all cookies taste best when they're still warm from the oven, especially chocolate chip."

Blue realized that he was being given permission to eat his dessert first. Astonished but pleased, he finally managed a small smile as he startled nibbling, then devouring, the treat.

Nick stepped into the washroom for a moment to clean his hands; he closed its door and that of the storage closet when he was done, to keep the heat where his young guest needed it. He then settled down at the desk and started sorting through the food containers. "So, Blue, where do you come from? I'm not asking where you ran away from," he explained when the boy froze. "You left, and you've got your reasons. But I think we both know you're not an Earth boy." His glance took in not only the child's blue skin, but his large bald head, which had been revealed when his soggy cap had been removed, as well as his huge, unearthly green eyes.

Having finished his cookie, Blue nibbled delicately at the apple, which Nick had sliced for him. "I don't know," he admitted sadly. "My mom and dad sent me here when I was just a baby, 'cause there was this huge vortex thing that was gonna suck up our entire planet. They sent me and Minion here to save us. But that's all I know. Even Minion doesn't remember exactly who my parents were, or what our planet was called or where it was. It was a long way away, and it's gone now."

"That's sad," Nick said sincerely. "I was young when I lost my parents, but not a baby. It sounds like you came from pretty far away, then."

Blue nodded. "Real far. My escape pod had a special kind of hyperdrive, so when it reached a certain optimal velocity, it was propelled through n-dimensional space, which let it cover a huge distance in almost no time at all, so it came out at preselected coordinates somewhere around the orbit of Jupiter, and then—"

"Whoa, hold on there, Blue!" Nick said with a jovial laugh, startled by the boy's sudden shift from normal kid talk to sophisticated science speak. "I was a history teacher in my time, not a scientist! You lost me back around 'velocity.' But it sounds to me like you've got a pretty astronomical IQ."

The boy blushed, uncertain. "Is that a good thing?"

"Could be, if you learn how to use it right. It means you're very, very smart. When I was a teacher, I always enjoyed the bright kids. It was hard work to keep 'em interested, but it made for a good challenge."

Blue made a face that eloquently expressed his feelings about Ms Driscoll. "My teacher hates me," he said, thinking back on the day and all the miserable weeks since he'd started school. "She likes the kids who always do everything just the way she says, she thinks I'm nothing but trouble just 'cause I make mistakes sometimes and the other kids don't like me. She thinks I'm a freak, and she wants to get rid of me."

Nick's snort was equally eloquent. "She's not much of a teacher, then, if all she wants are kids who're mindless drones. Smart kids are different, sure, but it's a good kind of different, and if she can't deal with it, she's just plain lazy."

That was what Blue thought, too, what the warden and Officer Davis and some of his "uncles" had told him time and again, but it was nice to hear it from someone who had been a teacher. His mind picked up the phrase "mindless drones" and toyed with it a bit. He liked it. It described the rest of his classmates very well. He would have to tell Minion—

That thought brought him up short, like a speeding train crashing into a mountain. Minion wasn't here to tell, and if he was still alive, the heavily falling snow and the cold would be a serious problem for him. He was resourceful for a fish, but there was only so much he could do to move in deep drifts, even less if the water in his globe began to freeze...

The very notion wrenched a sob from Blue's chest. Hearing it, Nick looked up and felt his own chest constrict at the heartbreak so plain on the child's face. He didn't know what had been going through Blue's thoughts, and reached his own conclusion. "I suppose you've had a pretty rough time of it in school," he surmised. "It's bad enough when the other kids don't like you, but it's worse when the teacher takes their side and lets them bully you. I'm sorry you've had to live through that, son. I can only imagine what it must be like, looking so obviously different and being the only one."

He paused, thinking back on their conversation. "Or are you? Didn't you say your friend came with you?"

It took some effort for Blue to nod. "He did, but he's...not like me."

"Not blue?"

"No — well, I guess some of him is sorta blue, but that's not what I meant. He's — he's a fish." Blue couldn't look at Nick while he made that admission, since he was sure the man would think that he was crazy, like everyone at school did.

But after a second of silence, all Nick said was, "A fish?" When Blue nodded, he thought a moment more, then continued. "A fish man, like a person who walks on two feet, or a fish fish, like one that swims in the water?"

"A fish fish," Blue said, figuring he had nothing to lose by telling the whole truth, now that a part of it was out. "My parents sent him with me to take care of me. Minion's a real smart fish, and the ball my parents sent him in lets him move around on his own. Not a lot, 'cause he can only make it roll and bounce a little, sometimes, but someday, I'm gonna make him a robot body so he can walk like everyone else."

"I bet you will," Nick said confidently, without any hint of doubt or condemnation. His easy acceptance of all the boy had said made Blue look up, and see the odd smile on the man's bearded face. "Y'know, little Blue, now I know everything will be all right."

He patted Blue's good knee as he stood up and headed for the washroom. "I was out doing my usual rounds today," he explained as he went. "I like to sort of play Santa for the homeless families with kids that I know of in this part of town. After I lost my teaching position, I was a delivery trucker for a while, so I know a lot of folks in the warehouses and supply outlets. Some of 'em like what I do for the homeless kids, and give me treats and things to hand out to them when I find 'em. That import grocery supply house off Canal Street — where I found you — gives me some of the best stuff. When I went there this morning to pick up whatever they had for me, I found something else. Surprised the bejeebers outta me, made me drop a jar of something I'd just gotten, so I brought it along instead. Didn't know what to do with it but bring it back here, but now, I think I know exactly what to do."

In the dim glow of the candles, Blue couldn't see what Nick was doing until he returned to the main room with something shiny and round in his hands, reflecting strange shadows in the flickering candlelight. The thing appeared to be damaged, as there was a band of duct tape curved along the uppermost side. It looked familiar, but Blue was afraid to hope—

"Sir! Oh, sir, it's you! You're all right! Oh, sir, I'm so glad to see you...!"

The even more familiar voice evaporated any doubts. "Minion!" Blue shrieked, his entire face splitting in the biggest and most delighted grin ever. Minion looked a bit pale and rattled and worn, but no more than Blue himself after the unexpected events of the day. Nick — after getting over his surprise at hearing the fish speak — held out the globe to the boy. Blue took it at once, wrapping his arms around it and hugging it and his best friend to his slender chest as he burst into new tears of unabashed relief and joy.

TBC...