Brian spent three days in his room getting rid of his old books as promised. Each one made him groan in agony and finally mom and I made him shut his door so we could have some relief from his misery. Mom was trying real hard to keep up a strong front but I knew she was totally stressed over dad and when I finally got the chance, I spoke to her about Hector Nublado and what he had taught me about the clouds and that some of the people at school said he could read the future in them.

She listened patiently and then informed me that nobody could read the future because if it hadn't happened there was nothing to read and if there was something, then life was all planned out in advance and nothing we did could change anything anyway. At least she didn't get mad; I think she was just too worn out to care.

I thought about that for a long while as we did the supper dishes and then I asked mom if she would mind if I asked Hector anyway. Hadn't I already been grounded for going out to his house? She didn't want me at any strange man's house and that was that, and I was to drop the foolish notions that anyone could read the future.

My next move was just as unpopular because I asked about dad. Mom started to cry before she could answer and I really felt bad. We sat together at the kitchen table until Brian slumped in with an armload of tattered comics.

"Do I hafta, mom?" I answered yes, with a warning frown, pointing to mom and Brian left, shoulders sagging.

"What did the doctor say?" I asked after a few minutes.

"Honey." Mom looked at me with the saddest eyes in the world. "They just don't know. Your dad is sick and he's losing weight but the tests don't show anything." She wiped her face and began fussing with things on the table. "He- he- he doesn't want us to be afraid or worry. He wants us to think that he just." Mom started to cry again and I put my arm on her back and patted it gently.

"He'll get better, mom, I know he will."

Brian came back in and wanted to know what was wrong, mom was still crying it seemed to him and he was getting frightened. I pushed him out of the kitchen and steered him upstairs to his bedroom. I told him that mom was worried because dad was sick and that they didn't know why and that we had to be very good and helpful, no whining and no misbehaving. Brian nodded solemnly.

*****

Saturday morning I got out my bike and headed off to the store to get some things mom needed before going to see dad that night. All week the news had been the same and mom was getting more and more upset. At least Brian was behaving and I had given him some easy chores to do to keep him out of mom's way while I was out.

As I rode down the block and across the parkette at the corner, large raindrops began splatting down and in an instant there was a wall of rain that turned everything to a blurry mist. I ran my bike into the bus shelter and stood watching as the water coursed down the gutters with a raging force that carried all kinds of debris with it into the catch basins.

The noise on the plastic roof of the shelter was deafening and I was not just a little worried. Suddenly, it stopped as quickly as it had started and almost immediately a hot sun drove down relentlessly onto the pavement, raising clouds of steam from its surface. September was almost over and the weather was still quite warm. I steered my bike out of the shelter and climbed on, riding carefully around the huge puddles.

Through the tree branches I could see altocumulus beginning to form and the realization that I remembered the type actually surprised me and I grinned as I raced down the wet street. The formations were very mixed and it occurred to me that if Hector really could read clouds, these would be just bursting with information. Gritting my teeth against my own rule about being good for mom, I steered around the next corner and made straight for Larkpoint and Hector's house.

A ground mist hung around the property like a lacy skirt, fading away from the house in a large circle. There was none near the other houses and on a porch down the street, where I thought Peter lived, an older woman stood with hands on hips watching me with open curiosity. I parked my bike and hurried through the mist up to the front door.

Hector was all smiles as he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, pointing to the seat we'd shared before.

"Welcome again, Molly Howe. I knew you would come today."

I stared at him with a look of skepticism. "How could you know that?"

He pointed to the sky. "I read it up there."

I looked up and suddenly felt a shiver of fear, the same feeling I felt when he walked me home. "Hector. Hector I don't know if what they say is true or not. I don't even know if what you say is true but-"

"You want to know about your father." He held my face with his stare; I had never felt such intensity. The air around his head appeared hazy hiding any definition of his features.

"How did you- how.?" He just smiled his strange smile without speaking, waiting for me to understand. "The clouds?"

"Molly Howe, let me tell you a quick fact about the clouds. I promise not another lecture . . . really. You already know that clouds are just water vapor, right," I nodded. "Well almost all that water vapor all comes from the earth through what is called the Hydrologic Cycle and has passed through that cycle countless times.

It can be stored temporarily in the ground; in oceans, lakes, rivers; and in ice caps and glaciers but eventually it evaporates and condenses in clouds. Then it falls back to the earth as rain or snow, beginning the cycle all over again"

"You mean there isn't any new water?"

"Very little water has been created or lost over the past billion years."

"Ugh!"

Hector smiled and stared back up at the sky. "I see you have had a thought about water that doesn't need explaining. Did you know that humans are composed mostly of water?"

"I learned something like that in school but I don't really see how."

"Well, those are subjects for your teachers, let's just remember that humans also contribute to the water cycle too, tiny atoms of each person are steadily returned to the atmosphere."

"Is that true?"

"I believe it is, yes, and that is how I read clouds. All those tiny atoms of water that came from all the people on earth are gathered into the clouds every day."

"But you could just be making things up." I shrank a bit as his face went serious and he turned toward me.

"Everyone believes what he or she chooses to believe, Molly Howe. Truth is only what you perceive it to be."

I sighed and stared at my feet, letting the silence build between us. At last I faced him again and noticed that he was calmly awaiting whatever I was prepared to ask.

"Truth can only be what really is, can't it?"

"And how do you know what really is, Molly Howe?"

"Well- well I just know- I mean I - I . . ."

"You experience something yourself and to you that is your truth. You tell someone else about your experience but it is still just your truth; they take your word for it or not. Truth is a very personal thing, a thing that should be shared carefully and honestly with others."

"Isn't that the same thing, truth and honesty?"

"Not necessarily. Truth is what you believe. Honesty is how you choose to share that belief."

Hector stood and went to lean on the rail, his face turned up to the sky. "What I see in the clouds, Molly Howe, is what I believe to be true and I try to share it with others in a way that they will accept my belief honestly."

"So. what do you see about my dad?" I asked in quiet voice, watching the back of his tilted head.

Hector waved goodbye as I raced away on my bike. The woman stood from her porch swing to watch me as I passed, a look of confusion on her face. The streets had dried up and the sun was popping in and out of the growing cloud formations. Big puffs of cotton. I would probably never call them by their official names. Hector's words played in my head as I sped toward the store before hurrying home. I prayed he was right, that the things he saw were indeed true for all of us.