Chapter Ten (Part Two)

After dinner that evening Melody meandered her way to one of the computers in the dorm.
(text of email follows)
To: "Ubergieke" (giekcc1@letour.edu)
From:"Tinkerbell" (mtinker@hanoveracademy.edu)

Subject: My painting
Hey Ubergieke, you know I won the student art contest, right? Well, like you predicted, all hell has broken loose here. Everybody and their sister wants to know what's on the painting, and it's driving me crazy. Miss Hanover even told me a story about her best friend from school who kept her sketchbook hidden. I haven't told anybody the truth yet, because nobody would actually believe me. They'd think I'm nuts. Except you of course. Well, I gotta go, I might catch you online maybe later tonight, after everyone here's in bed.
Later, Tinkerbell

When Ubergieke got to his computer in his dorm room at Academie Le Tour, he saw her email and fired off this response:
(text of email follows)
To: "Tinkerbell" (mtinker@hanoveracademy.edu)

From: "Ubergieke" (giekcc1@letour.edu)

Subject: Re: My painting
Hiya, Tinkerbell, I can't say I didn't tell ya this would happen once you won the student art contest with what I thought you'd paint, but I did. I told you all of this would happen. It's going to be impossible at this point for you to keep a low profile. Are you ashamed of your secret? Don't be. You've been given a gift few of us ever have -- the understanding that there are worlds beyond our own, with creatures far more advanced than we could ever be. In fact, I think I'd like to get abducted myself.

I can't wait to meet you in person someday. Ubergieke

Meanwhile, at the Dreamer residence across town, Darren's pregnant young wife Cassandra, heiress to the Goth fortune, was perusing the daily paper. The headline on the front page of the Sim City Times read, "Bluewater teen's painting causes chatter, controversy." "Hmm," Cassandra mused to no one in particular, "what could this kid possibly have painted that merited a mention in the Times?" After reading a little more, though, Cassandra caught the painting's title -- The Abduction. "Darren," Cassandra asked in shock, "do you know anything about this?"

Darren was busy working on another painting. "Yeah, Cass, I judged the student art contest. I told you about that Bluewater kid already. I didn't know it'd make the papers so soon."

"Oh, it's definitely made the papers, Darren. Says here it won first prize in the student art contest."

"The girl depicted an abduction of some kind. Either she's describing an event that happened to her or wishing for it to happen to her. The event came alive on the canvas, that's why we awarded her the Quigley prize."

"Darren?" Cassandra asked as she gave her husband a back rub. "Do you believe her? I mean, deep down, do you believe the Tinker girl?"

"Do you?"

"My dad does, I know for sure. He's been trying to prove his alien-conspiracy theory for years. And I think Alex does, too."

"But what about you?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Frankly, Darren, I'm not sure what to think."

The chatter didn't stop at dinner, either. An interesting cross-section of Pleasantview society was assembled at the Dreamer dinner table. Darren's son Dirk had invited his fellow crossing guard, Meadow Thayer, to dinner at their place for the second night in a row. Old Denise Jacquet and even the rich playboy Malcolm Landgraab had also decided to show up. The conversation over Cassandra's pipin-hot macaroni and cheese was the same thing that had become the talk of the town. "There are strange winds blowing here," old Denise Jacquet mused, a staunch traditionalist skeptical about any change, "things just don't feel right anymore."

"Maybe that girl's right about the alien presence among us," thought Meadow Thayer.

Dirk glared at Meadow and Denise. "No way -- no way aliens exist. I think both of you are nuts for believing that crazy girl. It's bad enough dad believes her..." His voice trailed off.

"You believe that girl, don't you?" Cassandra asked that evening as she watched Darren stargaze through his telescope.

"The way Melody Tinker talks about it," Darren replied as he adjusted his lens, "would make anybody believe."

"What did she tell you?"

Darren laughed. "It's what she didn't say that convinced me. The painting told me all I needed to know."

Cassandra was curious. "What's on this painting?"

"A bright bluish light is shining on a girl hanging onto a telescope. She's so talented that you could almost feel the subject getting sucked away. I had to ask her principal, are you sure she's fourteen?"