It was a large town but pretty quiet. I checked out a few arcades and played some video games in them. I'd never been very good at video games before, but with my new reflexes and skills I was able to do pretty much anything I wanted.

I raced through all levels, knocked out every opponent in martial arts tournaments, and zapped all the aliens attacking from the skies in the sci-fi adventures.

After that I toured the town. There were plenty of fountains and statues and parks and museums, all of which I checked out with interest. But going around the museums reminded me of Mom — she loved taking me to museums — and that upset me: I always felt lonely and miserable when I thought of Mom, Dad, or Annie.

I spotted a group of guys my age playing hockey on a cement playground. There were eight players on each side. Most had plastic sticks, though a few had wooden ones. They were using an old tennis ball as a puck.

I stopped to watch, and after a few minutes one of the guys came over to me.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Out of town," I said. "I'm staying at a hotel with my father." I hated calling Mr. Crepsley that, but it was the safest thing to say.

"He's from out of town," the boy called back to the other guys, who had stopped playing.

"Is he part of the Addams Family?" one of them shouted back, and they all laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, offended.

"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" the boy said.

I glanced down at my dusty suit and knew why they were laughing: I looked like something out of Beetlejuice.

"I lost the bag with my normal clothes," I lied. "These are all I have. I'm getting new stuff soon."

"You should." The boy smiled, then asked if I played hockey. When I said yes, he invited me to play with them.

"You can be on my team," he said, handing me a spare stick. "We're down, six-two. My name's Michael."