Science Fiction for Young Readers, grade 4 up
Story by Terry Gibson ©

     Mrs. Gray's sudden "April Fool" 
left them in helpless giggles.  It was 
the surprise of it, the incongruity, the 
simple relief!  Whatever it was, it was 
the perfect thing to help them get over 
the nervous stress, and let them relax
enough to discuss it together rather than 
apart.
     "We are all fools," Jeremy Player 
said. "Mrs. Meander thinks I'm either 
a pervert or insane to insist on what 
really happened.  She told me that she 
believed none of it.  She would see to 
it that the matter was thoroughly
investigated."
     "Oh dear," her mother said.  
"I'm sorry."
     "Me too," Tab added.
     Something was definitely bugging 
her mother; something just out of reach.
     "I still can't believe it myself," 
Mr. Player said, "because I can't even 
begin to explain it."
     "How do you mean?"  Beyond the word 
"float," Alice Gray had no idea what Tab 
had done.  "Can you describe it?"
     "Let's put it this way, I work out 
at the gym so I can handle heavy weights, 
okay?"
     She nodded, and just as a precaution, 
Tab wrapped her legs around the table leg.  
Just in time, too.
     "Well, when I reached to pick her up 
and carry her in,-- ("Down-down-down," 
Tab said softly.) I darn near lost her.  
She nearly slipped up--("Down-down-down," 
Tab repeated, low.) right out of my hands--"
     "Up?  What--" ("Down-down-down," 
Tab said softly.)
     "Up.  ("Down-down-down," Tab 
whispered.) She weighed less than nothing."  
At the raised eyebrows of disbelief, he 
added, "I know. I don't believe it either.  
But BELIEVE it.  Tabitha not only weighed 
less than nothing, but she almost 
pulled me into the air with her.  That's 
why I ran."
     An irrepressible giggle returned, 
and grew until Mother laughed out loud.  
"You're kidding."
     "Not at all."  Again that soft tap 
on his thigh.  "I was af-..." He put a 
hand to the repeated tapping and felt 
something furry.  "Well, hello, Cat," 
he said. "Want up?"  ("Down-down-down," 
Tab said under her breath.)
     "He never-- Well! Muffet has never 
done that before, with a stranger.  You 
were saying?"
     JP stroked the cat with expert hands.
"I grew up with cats," he explained.  
("Down-down-down," Tab whispered, and 
glanced at Greggy who was enjoying it 
hugely.) "Yes, I really was afraid I'd 
lose Tabitha, that I wouldn't be able to 
hold on.  She would have bobbed up like 
a cork in water." ("Down," Tab said, tired 
of vigilance.)
     "Down?" Mr. Player asked.
     "Sorry," she answered.
     "Is that why you took the stairs four 
and five at a time?"  Voluntary suspension 
of disbelief, Mrs. Gray thought, makes it 
easier.
     "Oh you heard about that."
     "You impressed the hang out of Greggy!"
     "No kidding.  I almost floated up 
without touching down at all."  (Tab almost 
said it...) "Thank heaven that Tabitha did 
her best to hang on.  I couldn't have done 
it alone."
     Mother burst into giggles again. "I'm 
sorry," she gasped between bursts, "I can't 
imagine-- hahaha-- anything more--"
     "Bizarre?"
     She nodded mutely, still laughing.
     "You think it's funny.  I'm serious.  
We almost lost her."
     "And then how come she didn't bob up 
again in the nurse's room?"  ("Down," Tab 
said but no one noticed.)
     "I don't know."
     The laughter died.
     "All I know is that I did not 'fling' 
her down, as they're saying."
     "I swear you sound like you've been 
drinking."
     "No, but it's about to drive me there.  
Or else my mind has come unhinged."  He was 
deadly serious, even though his hand still 
stroked Muffet, the cat.
     "Look, I could stand some more coffee," 
she said.  "Or would you prefer sherry?"
     "Coffee, please."


    Something about the kitchen bothered 
Alice Gray, some fragment of memory.  
Tabitha had come with her to help, and 
her mother said, "Go call Mr. Player in 
here too, and Gregory." The kitchen had 
reminded her.  Very odd feeling.  
     Something...
     "Sit down," she said.  "These cheese 
treats will be ready in no time."  She slid 
them under the broiler.  "Tabitha," she said.  
"Help me--"
     "Sure, Mom."
     "No, remember, a few weeks ago, you 
told me something...."
     "Uh-huh.  I remember."
     "Well, I'm ready to listen now."  
As Tab started to tell about having no 
footprints, it all came back.


     Mr. Player stood and said, "Look, 
could we continue this conversation 
tomorrow?  We need time to deal with 
these ideas."  He laughed.  "I have 
other excuses too: I'm late already;
I hadn't meant to stay this long.  Want 
some others?"
     "No, no!  I agree," Mrs. Gray said, 
as she gathered the cups.  "I have 
seventeen excuses too, books to mark.  
More than anyone, I need time too." She 
shrugged apologetically.  "She floated?
Merciful heavens, what next?"
     Tab stood, disappointed.  He's about 
to leave!


     "It's hard to get used to such a 
wild idea," her mother said.  Then she 
smiled widely.  "I have to tell you I 
was prepared to judge you harshly, to 
do the 'irate parent' thing."
     "And now you won't?"  Mr. Player 
smiled.
     "If I did, it would be an 
injustice."  She glanced at Tab, who had 
moved toward the door. "It's not your 
fault."  Something was coming back like 
a bad dream....  "I'm not convinced that 
it's Tabitha's, either.  But floating?  
It's just not natural!"
     "Oh, definitely NOT!  She did float 
though, and strongly.  I know it's hard 
to believe."
     "We don't get it either," Greg said.
     "Maybe, can you help, Mr. Player?"  
Tabitha asked softly, hoping that he 
might come back.  It felt good to have 
him there.  Awfully good.
     "If you need me," he said.
     Tab could have danced when she heard 
her mother say, "We do, certainly.  
Tomorrow, about seven then?"
     "I'll be here."  Mr. Player did not 
look as tired anymore.
     With a smile, they saw him to the 
door, watched him get into his car, and 
drive away.


     Next day at school, there were the 
usual bits of harassment, things that 
Tab had pretty well learned to ignore.  
A note was intercepted by Miss Longshanks.  
During the afternoon recess, Miss L. took 
Tabitha aside and demanded to know why 
she was phoning Mr. Player at all times 
of the night and day.
     "WHAT?  But I don't!"
     "Of course, you'd deny it.  You 
should be ashamed!  I feel so sorry for 
him-- He looked so rough."
     Tab thought of how sick he had 
looked yesterday when he first arrived 
at their house, and until they had asked 
him back.
     Why were they blaming her?  
     Phone calls?  Why phone calls?  
"Who said there were phone calls?"
     "That's what they're all saying, 
Tabitha."  Miss Longshanks' voice was low.  
"Please, don't make it worse for him."
     "Miss Longshanks, I had nothing to 
do with any of that.  Honest."
     As the teacher bent to tidy her desk, 
she said, "Okay, if you say so."  But Tab 
knew she hadn't believed her.

                         
     When she got home from school, Tab 
told her mother about the gossip, and 
found her mother had heard it too.  Her 
mother was angry, no doubt about it.  
She asked why it was happening.
     "I guess it's Tabby disease," Tab 
admitted, and ended off explaining as 
briefly as she could, what it was like.  
"The kids hate me."
     "What did you do to cause it?"
     "I don't know. I think it's because 
I get good marks.  I work a lot harder 
than they do. They hate that."
     Her mother smiled, glad to hear 
such a worthy reason.  "I see."  They 
talked about it, but had no solution.
     "Good thing Mr. Player was with us, 
or you wouldn't know that what they say 
is untrue," Tab said.  "He'd have 
mentioned the phonecalls, right?"
     "Not necessarily."
     "We can ask him tonight."
     "Ah, yes," her mother stood up.  
"He'll be here in twenty minutes!"

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