When Paula and I walked in, Paul was apparently awake. He had his blankets bunched around himself, covering everything except his head and his hands, both of which were palms down. The hands, that is.
I noticed that his face was strangely pale, and that his hair was tousled.
"Paula?" he squeaked.
"Paul," Paula said, reaching over to hug her brother. "Where were you?"
Paul shook in fear. "I can't remember, really. All I can remember is some robed kid and something he called 'Master Gyogiss'." He shuddered, remembering.
"Giogas?" I asked.
Paul stared at me. "Yeah, that's it. Giogas. I was riding my bike when the robed kid made me crash. I ripped my arms up a bit." He lifted his arms a bit to show us his arms, both scarring well.
"Have mom or dad put iodine on those cuts?" Paula wondered.
Paul nodded. "They were a lot worse before they were treated."
"I'm glad," Paula replied, sighing. "I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to you."
"And I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to you, sister," Paul admitted.
I wiped a tear from my eye. This was so touching.
"And who are you?" Paul asked me. "I think you're Tracy, but I'm not sure."
"Yes, I'm Tracy," I answered.
"Ness' sister, right?" he continued. I looked at Paula, as if to ask her if she had told her brother about us; she nodded.
"Correct."
"Paula! Paul! Tracy!" Paula's father, Rigel, called from outside Paul's room. "Supper!"
"Are you hungry now, Paul?" I asked.
"Sort of. But I need my plastic fork and knife." He said the following in a louder voice: "Dad! Do you have my fork and knife ready?"
"Yes, but you won't need them," came the reply.
Paul climbed out of bed, dressed in his day clothes -- something which perplexed me -- and we headed out into the dining room.

"Tacos. Delicious," Lomond said, adding sauce, lettuce and tomatoes to his taco. He sat down at a folding table that Ness and BJ had rummaged for in the Polestar's closet.
"Thank you, Lomond," Mrs. Polestar said. "See, BJ? You didn't have to worry about disrupting my supper preparation; I was planning on making tacos all along."
BJ smiled sheepishly. He had taken a taco shell and filled it with as little filling as he could.
"Come on, BJ," I said to him botheringly. "That's not going to be a suitable meal for you."
"It's not fair in any way," he complained. "Rigel and Vega had planned their supper for them and for Paul. They didn't expect the five of us to pop up."
"It doesn't matter," Paula insisted. "We had plenty of hamburger meat, and my father could have run out for more taco shells. Just eat; we won't hold it against you."

Dusty
(Author's note: I don't CARE that Dusty's real name doesn't really sound like Dusty. That's the problem with reinventing and redesigning a character three or four times, which is what Dusty went through.)
"Tatsuchi, I can't believe that you were this hungry," my mother said, looking at the chicken satay that I had almost single-handedly ate.
"Neither can I, mother," I admitted. "I guess I didn't eat much lunch."
"Yes. That must be it," she observed. She moved to pick up the plates, but I said I would do the dishes. "If only I had another son like you, Tatsuchi."
"Don't worry, mother," I mused. "There's nothing you could do right now beyond adoption."
"Perhaps not now, but surely then," she whispered. I wondered if she had intended for me to not be able to hear it, because I had heard it, and considering what she said, I don't think she wanted me to hear it.
I picked up the dishes and brought them to the sink. I plugged the sink, turned on the water, filled the sink, and pulled out the dish detergent. I washed them, letting them soak in the water as I took another plate or piece of silverware.
About twenty minutes later, I was done with the dishes. They were all washed, cleaned, and dried. I put them back in the cupboard. My mother was in the living room, reading the Fourside Post.
"Imagine that, Tatsuchi," I heard her say. "So many children disappearing. First that Polestar boy a week or so ago, then his sister and her friends just now."
"Yes, those are shocking events," I murmured. "Shocking." And, silently, I added: informative. I walked into my room.
I pulled my tarot cards out and wrote two words on a sheet of paper. I looked through my cards and pulled out one card, then another. I placed them face down on each side, left and right, of the words. I shuffled the remaining 75 cards and laid them out beside one of my first cards. Then I chose six cards at random from the deck and placed them face up above the word.
The Five of Cups; frustration. The Five of Swords, reversed; vindication? The Five of Wands; that card indicated struggle. The Three of Cups; something good's going to happen, I guessed.
Judgment. Good luck? Perhaps. But I doubted that interpretation would be it... a new era? A new enemy?
The Seven of Swords. Cleverness.
"I wonder what this means," I mused quietly, also thinking about about the two cards I'd pulled out before.
One of the first two cards was the Knight of Cups, which meant that things weren't as they appeared. Which was true. And the other wasn't chosen for what I interpreted it as meaning, but the meaning of the arcanum itself.
I piled my cards up and slipped them back under my bed. Just in time, too.
My mother walked in. "Tatsuchi, there's a walking head with a big nose at the door. He wants to talk to you about something. And he called you Dusty. Is that something I ought to know about?" She glared at me, as if she suspected that I didn't necessarily go under my birth name.
But pretty much no one can pronounce it. I couldn't pronounce it until I was five. By then, people had started calling me Dusty.
I walked out of my room, hoping my mother wouldn't go looking under my bed.
"Dusty!" Ñrutas exclaimed.
"Ñrutas?" I asked. "Where are the others?" I lowered my voice. "And call me Tatsuchi around my mother."
"Tachi?" Ñrutas wondered.
"No, Ta*tsu*chi. Seven dragons, I think. And where are the others?" I pressed.
"Around. They're looking for Robe. Do you have your car--" I covered Ñrutas' mouth.
"Sssh! Don't even mention tarot cards around my mother," I hissed.
"Why not, Tatsy?" he wondered. I wondered something, too: would he get the pronunciation right for once? Of course he wouldn't.
"And why did you come, anyway?" I inquired.
"So you can help us defeat Giogas, Tatsty," he answered. Well, that was a start.
"I can't leave right now," I answered, lowering my voice. "My cards are in my room, and so is my mother; I can't leave without those cards."
"OK. I'll leave and find Picky and Tony. You get your cards, and we'll head out. We can maybe make it to Threed."
"I doubt that, Ñrutas," I mused. "It's too late. We might as well stay here and head out tomorrow." Ñrutas left.
My mother came out. "So, what did the walking head want?"
"He just wanted to talk with me about something."
"About what?" my mother insisted. "You shouldn't hide the truth from me, after all, it is said that two heads are better than one."
"There's more than two people involved in this."
"Involved in what?"
How best to break this to her? I thought. How would I tell my mother that I had to leave. Especially for such an uneasily proved reason as saving the world? Then again, it couldn't hurt.
"Saving the world?" I offered meekly.
The house stood in absolute silence for a few minutes. The ringing of my mother's cuckoo clock was the only sound.
"Oh, Tatsuchi," my mother said. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, mother," I replied. "Do you remember the events of four years ago, where Ness Lee and Paula Polestar saved the world?"
"Yes, Tatsuchi, but I don't understand the relevance. We were told that the world had been saved."
"The world had been saved, yes, but it had only been saved until now. Now there's a new alien scourge who's trying to destroy the world. I'm one of the eight who have to save the world."
"And who else is in this eight?" my mother pressed.
"Well, there's me; there's the walking head, he's called Ñrutas, by the way; there's Ness' little sister Tracy; we've also got an older boy, about 17, Tony; Tracy's friend Picky Minch; and BJ Nichols."
My mother stood up and stared at me. "A Nichols is one of the heroes who are going to save the world?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"You can't trust a Nichols. I know from experience." My mother sat down. "Oh, go ahead, save the world. But don't trust that Nichols boy."
"Thank you, mother."
I headed into my room and pulled my tarot cards out. I slipped them in my pocket. I threw my encyclopedia into my backpack, as well as a few changes of clothes.
I walked out. "Goodbye, mother. Sayonara."
"Sayonara, Tatsuchi."