“It’s not fair! You can’t just leave! Not after I came all that way to find you!”
Hudson screamed through the tears flooding his sight. Uncle Mark knelt before him and frowned. Principal Maddox continued to snore, and the avian companions politely turned their attention to other matters while Hudson Keel cried for his hurt and frustration.
“You can’t leave me again! You have to come home!”
Uncle Mark slowly shook his head. “I won’t go missing this time. I won’t be lost. But there are monsters out there I still have to face, Hudson. I can’t bring those monsters home. I have to face them alone. Maybe someday you’ll understand.”
Hudson looked through the tent’s opening beyond his uncle’s shoulder. The tent had not returned directly to the gymnasium as Hudson had expected. It had first stopped long enough upon the world of his avian companions for their cherished eggs to be safely delivered home. Then, the tent had made a second stop at Uncle Mark’s request, had set upon a landscape of blowing sands that stung the eyes that looked too long upon it. It was one more vista pulled from Hudson’s pictures.
“I’ll write you letters, Hudson. I promise to keep in better touch.”
Hudson shook his head. He knew that the post office would not deliver letters among the stars. “Even if they reached my mailbox, mom would never let me read them.”
“I’ll write under a new name,” Uncle Mark winked. “Tell your mom the letters are from a pen-pal. Tell her everyone in your class has a pen-pal.”
Hudson hugged Uncle Mark one more time. “There’s nothing I can do to keep you from leaving, is there?”
“I’m afraid not, Hudson. Promise me you’ll believe in yourself. Promise me that.”
“I promise.”
Uncle Mark turned and stepped out of the tent and onto the next alien landscape, his figure quickly shrouded by blowing sand. Hudson choked his sobs as his avian friends again closed their tent. He did not return to his bean bag as his gray-feathered companion struck the gong another time and launched them between the stars.
The avian beings may have possessed reasons for empathizing with Hudson, for all of them again picked up their violins and flutes, their dulcimers and clarinets, and played melodies filled with both melancholy and hope.