As she cooked soup on the stove, Mrs. Kemper turned more than once to look at her son. She'd called her husband at work to let him know Jack was home, and Mr. Kemper was on his way back to the house. Kyle had been called at school, as well, but he had been unwilling to leave his classes; his father was going to pick him up regardless.

It was quiet in the kitchen. Mrs. Kemper was waiting—nearly in pain—for her son to tell her what had happened. She was afraid if she battered him with questions, he'd close up, and from Miss Collins's visit, she knew that Jack had been somewhere incomprehensible to her for the past days (though it was still difficult for her to come to terms with it). Jack sat in silence for many moments, staring at the tabletop though not quite daydreaming. There was a clear pensiveness in his gaze, a determination in his fingers as he played with the corner of the napkin he held. He seemed almost to be putting a puzzle together.

Still, after nearly fifteen minutes had passed with no word from Jack, Mrs. Kemper could hardly bear the quiet. She sat across from the boy after placing a steaming mug of soup before him. And she said, "Where have you been, all this time?"

Jack glanced up at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. (This hurt his mother, and he felt it fast.) "I'm sorry," he began. "I was just thinking."

"I know."

He sighed. "I just . . . there's so much that I can't explain to you—to anyone."

She nodded. "I know that, too. Maybe I've known it for a very long, long time, but I never wanted to believe it until you disappeared."

"Yeah." Jack tore off the corner of the napkin, then absent-mindedly attempted to piece it back together. "I'm sorry about going away. I didn't know it would be so long for you. It seemed like . . . I guess short, for me. But not really. It was like, there wasn't time. So I didn't know . . ." His words trailed off and his voice faded. It was strange to try explaining what had happened to him to his mother. She'd think he was crazy. Think he'd been dreaming. Looking up at her squarely, he added, "I wasn't kidnapped or anything. I didn't run away. You have to believe me. Nothing bad happened to me. I'm fine, and you don't have to call the police or anything. I think . . . I think you can even say I was here, in the house, this whole time I've been gone."

"That's what Miss Collins said," replied Mrs. Kemper.

At the mention of his old teacher's name, Jack's eyes gained a deep spark and he smiled. "You talked to Miss Collins?"

His mother nodded.

"So . . . so you know?"

The woman sighed. Thought. "No, Jack, not exactly. I'm not sure what she meant about any of what she said. But she seemed to understand why you are the way you are. She made more sense to me than any doctor or other teacher has so far. I don't know exactly what goes on with you, but if it's something you understand, and something you can grow and live with, then I don't see why I or any medication should try to stop you."

Jack's features turned brooding again. He chewed his lip. Put the napkin down but proceeded to mindlessly turn his spoon inside his soup mug. "I don't know where I was," he admitted.

"Neither do I."

He shrugged. Then, pointing to his left ear, he added, "I can't hear out of this ear anymore."

His mother got to her feet so fast her chair tipped over. "What do you mean, you can't hear?" she gushed, ignoring the clatter behind her.

"I mean, I can't hear! But it's ok, mom. It's all right! It doesn't hurt. It was supposed to happen."

"Is that why you're bleeding? Your ear is bleeding?"

"Yes."

"How can you be so casual about this?" She went to his side. Now, he let her touch his head. She examined his ear, but of course, she couldn't see down inside it, where the blood had come from. Mrs. Kemper went to the sink and dampened a cloth. Then she wiped away the blood around Jack's ear and in his hair. Trying to remain calm, she asked, "Does it hurt, honey?"

"No. Not at all." He twitched as the cold cloth touched around his ear; it seemed oversensitive, now.

"We'll have to see the doctor about that, Jack. You can't mess around with your ears and eyes. You just can't."

He shrugged again.

His father took him to the emergency room as soon as he got home, being less calm than his wife about Jack's bleeding ear. The blood had stopped coming out of it, but still—to Mr. Kemper, blood meant emergency room.

Jack was put in a line of nearly twenty other patients waiting for treatment, and his father would've insisted he get in earlier except for the fact that the boy was in no pain or discomfort at all. It was difficult for the man to convince anyone that his son needed immediate attention. So the two of them sat and talked in the waiting room. Jack had tried explaining where he'd been during his absence, but his father had been only flustered and confused. He'd spoken with the police on his way home from work, and by the time he had arrived home with the rather unwilling Kyle, two officers had shown up to question Jack. But when Mr. Kemper had seen the blood in his son's ear and spoken with his wife, he'd rescheduled any police reports and headed with Jack straight to the hospital.

Now, here they sat, in the waiting room, trying to discuss things that really couldn't be discussed in such a setting. Jack tried as best he could to appease his father, but he was relieved when his name was at last called and he could be distracted with more answerable questions from a doctor.

It was concluded, basically, that Jack had gone deaf in his left ear. For no apparent reason. His eardrum had ruptured, though how, no one was sure, and this was where the blood had come from. In most cases, and likely in Jack's case, the eardrum would heal itself. As long as they were careful to avoid infection, Jack's eardrum would be better soon enough. What fascinated the doctor even more than the fact that Jack had felt no pain was the boy had entirely lost hearing in his ear, for good. A ruptured or perforated eardrum rarely meant total hearing loss, but Jack, it was quite obvious, had gone completely deaf. His ear didn't hurt him, but it didn't pick up any sounds around it, either. How this was possible, the doctors did not know.

Jack was given pain killers (in case the need did arise) and antibiotics and was sent home informed to return within a few days to check the healing progress. His mother couldn't quite understand why her son was so calm about everything. She felt deep upset that her thirteen-year-old had gone deaf in one ear, and she was even more bewildered by the fact that he showed no concern. However, at this point, she knew there was little she could or should say to Jack. It was better to leave him be, in his unhampered state, than to rile him up with her own worries.

Such strange things had taken place over the past months, Mrs. Kemper thought, but this strange thing felt right.