(continued from front page)...whacko, crazy, bonkers! I know, because if anybody told me what I'm about to tell you, I'd think they were whacko, crazy, bonkers. You know what I mean?

Anyway, my name is Victor and I live with my mom and dad in a small Northeastern, Ohio town. On Saturday, April Tenth, I turned nine years old. In honor of this great occasion, my folks took me to the Cleveland Wildlife Center then home for Pineapple Pizza, my favorite dinner in the whole wide world! After dinner, I was allowed to eat all the chocolate cake I could eat. Mom gave me a cassette radio and dad gave me my first dirt bike. I was even allowed to watch T.V. until midnight, but then I had to go to bed and that's when it all began.

I was riding dad's shoulders into the bedroom when it started.
"What's that?" I asked as he plopped me down on the mattress.
"What's what?"
"That crying...you didn't hear it?"
Dad looked at me and frowned.
"You're not even asleep," he said. "And you're already dreaming?"
"I am not!" I said. "Someone is crying."
Dad's voice took on that firm edge. "Please Victor. Let's not spoil today with any nonsense designed to keep you from going to bed. Now, finished getting undressed, crawl under those sheets and not another peep until morning."
I was shocked. I couldn't believe he didn't hear anything.
Dad walked to the door and shut the light.
"I love you," he whispered closing the door behind him.

I sat straight up in my bed. There was no mistaking it. Somebody was crying and it was coming from the closet. It didn't make any sense for anybody to be in my closet.

I climbed out of bed and walked up to the closet door but something stopped me from pulling it open. I looked at my bedroom door. It was closed. I thought I ought to pull open the bedroom door before I opened the closet door. I might need to get out of the room real quick and it might be a good idea for the bedroom door to already be opened. I didn't want to lose a lot of precious time trying to pull open the bedroom door if, whoever was in the closet, decided to come out of the closet after me.

I pulled open the bedroom door and walked back over to the closet. I still couldn't believe there was someone weeping in my closet. The only time there's every anything in anybody's closet is on T.V. These things just don't happen in real life and yet I could hear crying and it was coming from the closet. I reached for the door but I still couldn't pull it open.

I looked at the top drawer of the dresser where I keep my baseball. I know this is not the time to be thinking of baseball, but I was beginning to come up with a plan and in order to put this plan into action, I was going to need my baseball. Funny thing about baseballs. Whenever someone tosses you one, you automatically try to catch it. You don't even think about catching it. It's just something you do. Your arms go up and your hands turn into a basket and you try to catch the baseball. You may not always catch it but you'll always try and while this person in my closet is trying to catch the baseball, I can turn around and take off like Ricky Henderson shooting for a record-breaking stolen base. I can be half way to mom and dad's bedroom before this person even catches the ball and that might be enough to keep them from catching me.

It's never easy to pull open a door when you're afraid of what might be on the other side, but I took a deep breath, pulled open the close door and tossed in the baseball. I raced out of my room in record speed and stopped short, in the hall, halfway between my bedroom, shocked by what I had seen.

There was a little girl in my closet. She caught the baseball. She was standing in the middle of my closet with her hands clutching the baseball and a trail of tears spilling out of her eyes. She was dressed in white and I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, because this little girl had a set of wings sprouting out of her back.

"Hi," she said, sniffling. "Do you want your ball back?"
I should my head from side to side.
"Should I put it back in the dresser?"
How did she know where it came from?
"Are you all right?"
I should my head up and down.
She stepped forward.
I stepped back.
"Do you talk?" she asked.
I shook my head up and down, again.
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
"I don't know," I said.

I mean, what would you say to somebody that wasn't supposed to be in your room to begin with, but was in your room and as if being in your room isn't bad enough, the person in your room just happens to be wearing wings! Well, shut my mouth and excuse me for being rude, dude. I couldn't dream this up if I was sleeping!

"Who are you?" I asked. "And what are you doing in my room?"
"My name is Caitlyn Dorothy and I'm and Angel, but I'm lost and if I don't find my way and fulfill my task, I'll loose my wings."
And then she was sniffling and shaking and crying all over again. This was going to be a long night.
"Stop crying," I finally said and offered her the box of tissues mom always leaves on my dresser. I don't know why she leaves them there. I m mean, why would anyone want a tissue when they can just use the sleeve of their shirt?

Caitlyn took a tissue and wiped her nose.
"How do you know you're lost?" I asked.
"Is your name Victoria?"
"Victoria! Do I look like a Victoria?"
"No."
"Well, just for your information, it's Victor."
"Well, Victor," she said and folded her arms in front of her stomach, "Were you born yesterday?"
"Do I look like I was born yesterday?" Jeeze. I was beginning to think wings weren't the only things Caitlyn lacked. I mean, where in the world were her brains?
"No," she said. "You don't look like you were born yesterday."
"Well that's because I wasn't. Of course yesterday was my birthday." "That doesn't count."
"It counts to me!"

Caitlyn started to shake, sniffle and sob all over again.
"Please stop crying," I said and rubbed her arm with my hand. It was an odd thing for me to do. I don't usually touch girls except fro my mom and she doesn't count. Girls are a pain in the neck. They always want to get in on baseball games. They never bait their own hooks. They wear gook on their lips, dresses on Sundays and always scream at the neatest little bugs. Girls! Who need 'em?

"I must find Victoria," she said. "Victoria doesn't have an Angel to watch over her and everyone has an Angel. It's an Angel's job to watch over people and help them out in times of troubles and warn them about evil things. Victoria doesn't have anyone!"
"She has you."
"Well what's the good of having me if I'm not there?"

Girls are also smart and Caitlyn had a point. I sat down on the edge of the bed and gave this some thought. Caitlyn sat down beside me.

"Yesterday was Victoria's birthday?" I asked.
"Yes," Caitlyn said. "She was born at 10:02 in the evening. That's about the time I got here."
I couldn't believe what Caitlyn just said.
"10:02?" I repeated, and before Caitlyn could say another word, I pointed out a very bizarre fact. "10:02 is the number of our house. You showed up at 1002 Phillip Marshall Road."
"I did?"
"Yes. You did."
"So?" Caitlyn asked. "It's still the wrong house."
"Duhh!" I said. "Now let's think about this for a minute. You were supposed to find a Victoria that was born at 10:02 PM. Instead, you find a Victor at 1002 Phillip Marshall Road. You got the birthday right, but mixed up a boy for a girl. You mixed up the time for the house number. There must be something to it."
"Hey," Caitlyn said as she stood straight up. "What time were you born?"
That was an easy one to answer. After all, yesterday at 9:27 PM mom made a big fuss about my arriving.
"9:27," I said.
"Could there be a 927 Phillip Marshall Road?"
"I suppose...but I don't know who lives there."
"Let's go find out!"
"Go find out? Are you nuts? I can't leave the house at 1:00 o'clock in the morning and go gallivanting all around town. I'm only nine years old! My folks will demolish me!"
That's when Caitlyn called me a chicken.
"You're sacred," she said. "You're a scaredy cat, chicken! Buc-buc-buc-Ba!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too, and that, VICTOR, is why I'm going alone."
"Oh no you're not!" I said.
"And why not?" she asked.
"Cause I'm going with you."
"Then let's go."

I followed Caitlyn out the front door of my house in pj's and slippers. I couldn't believe I let a girl talk me into this. If anybody ever saw me, I'd be laughed out of town. I'd never be able to show my face at school again. Besides, my folks would tan my fanny so bad, I'd never be able to sit in a chair again. What was I doing out here?

We walked four blocks before coming to 927 Phillp Marshall Road, but when we got there it was worth the walk. There was a sign in a big bay window at the front of the house. It had a picture of a stork carrying a little bundle and underneath the picture it read, "IT'S A GIRL!"

Caitlyn was so excited.
"How do we know it's Victoria?" I asked.
"I'm going inside to look around," Caitlyn said. "You wait here."

She disappeared right in front of my eyes and I never felt so alone in all my life. I had begun to think she was never coming back when somebody reached out and tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped a mile through the air and almost screamed, before I realized it was Caitlyn. She had her finger over her lips and told me to hush.

"This is it," Caitlyn said. She was so excited I thought she was going to bust. As a mater I fact, I almost wished she had busted because what she did next was even worse. She threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

"Are you nuts?" I cried, pulling free. "What if somebody had seen that?" What if my friends find out?"
"Oh don't be silly," she said. "There's nobody around."
"All the same..."
"Victor, I can't thank you enough."
"Forget it," I said.
"I'll never forget it," Caitlyn said.
"Okay! Okay," I said. I was afraid she was going to get mushy on me again.
"We have to get you home," she added and walked me all the way back to my house with me. Neither one of us talked until we reached my front door.

"Thank you again, Victor."
Caitlyn smiled and then disappeared all over again, right before my very eyes.

So, you see, that's why I can't tell this to anybody; because anybody you tell this to will think you're whacko, crazy, bonkers! Just ask my dad. He caught me walking in the house at 4:00 o'clock in the morning while he was downstairs getting a drink of water. He thought I was so whacko, crazy, bonkers, he's grounded me for the rest of my life. But mom says I'm up for a reprieve. You se, she took a ride over to 927 Phillip Marshall Road and when dad gets home from work tonight she's going to tell him about this newborn baby girl. Her name really is Victoria.

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