"Who are you?" Allen demanded, and the beam of the man's flashlight found his pale face.

"Are you Allen; Allen Starbright?"

Allen cocked his head curiously. "Why should I tell you? Who are you, anyways? Are you a burglar? I've read about burglars."

The man started up the stairs, his light still focused on Allen. "I'm a policeman. My name is Albert. I need you to come with me, okay, buddy?"

Allen took a step back from the man who was now right in front of him. "I've read about policemen. But how do I know you're not lying? And even if you're not why do you want me, anyways? Are you going to take me to jail? I've read about jail."

"Look, I'm not going to take you to jail, kid. Your parents—"

Allen paled. "What happened to them? Where are they? What did you do with them? I want them back!" He blurted it all in a rush and then stood pale-faced and wide-eyed and panting before the policeman.

"I'm sorry, Allen," he replied gently. "You can't have them back. There was a car accident..."

Allen stared into space before remarking vaguely, "I've read about car accidents..."

Albert led Allen to the front door, where Allen stopped suddenly and looked up at him dubiously. "You want me to go out?"

Albert nodded, confused.

"Like, outside?"

"Well, that's where my car is."

"I can't...I'm not allowed...outside?!" He peered out the open door curiously.

"Well, yeah. Haven't you ever been outside?"

Allen shook his head, still peering into the forbidden darkness. Albert stood in silence for a moment before asking slowly, "Why haven't you ever been outside?"

"My parents wouldn't let me. They said I had a special sickness and I would die. I don't think they were telling the truth, though." He stepped forward and took in a sharp breath of the cool evening air. Albert led him quickly to the police car, still puzzling over Allen's past.

"Look, those are stars. I've read about stars. The sun is a star; I've read about the sun. And that stuff is grass; I've read about grass. Is that the moon? I've read about the moon. Is this a car? I've read about cars. Is it yours? I like the flashy things on top. I get to ride in it? I've never ridden in a car before."

Albert shook his head and ushered Allen into the car.

"What's this?"

Albert turned back to Allen, who was fingering his seatbelt curiously. "Oh. Oh, that's your seatbelt, see..." he leaned forward and buckled Allen in. the boy continued to speculate on everything in the car and everything out the window the whole way to the police station.

"Is that the jail? Are we going in there? Are there burglars locked up in there? Mr. Albert! Mr. Albert! Look, look! Is that a burglar?!"

"No, Allen, it's just another policeman."

"Oh, good. If I ever met a burglar, I would, I would say to him, I'd say, 'Sir, were you the one who stole my childhood from me?' And he'd say, 'No, that was your parents.'" Allen began to laugh so hard that after a bit he started to cry. He was crying when he walked in the door at the police station, but stopped when he noticed everyone watching him.

"Albert, Mr. Albert, when do I go home? Do I get to go home? Do I have to live in the jail? Is this the jail? Are they burglars? Why does that say 'INFORMATION DESK'? What kinds of 'INFORMATION' can you get from her? What's her name?"

Albert gently steered Allen to a chair and sat him down. "That's Kathy," he replied, answering his last question quickly before continuing, "Now you sit here while I talk with some of the other policeman, okay?"

Allen nodded vigorously. "Okay."

A few minutes later Albert felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Allen, who whispered, "Mr. Albert? Is there a piano here?"

Albert frowned. "A piano? No, no piano."

"Okay." A pause. "What are you talking about?"

"We're going to try to find you some new parents."

"Huh." Allen pursed his lips. "If I get any say, I'd like some who've got a piano."

Albert laughed and patted Allen's head. "I'll do my best."