"I'll have to go now," he said. "You'll never see me again. I'm sorry. I really enjoyed your company. But now that this has happened . . ."
"What? Where are you going?" said Bones.
"I can't tell you."
"Are you going home now?"
"You might say that. Yes." said Rod.
"You don't really live in that old dump of a house do you?" asked Bones. "We went and had a look!"
"No, I don't live in it," said Rod, "but that's my address."
"So where do you really live?"
Rod looked at us with big, sad eyes.
"If I told you, you wouldn't understand."
He walked away from us leaving a trail of puddles, and shut the gate.
"Well, I'm not going to let him disappear!" I said to Bones. "I'm going to the old house to wait for him!"
"Me, too!" said Bones.
We pedaled hard to reach Rod's place. We were breathing hard and sweating like pigs when we got there, plus it was getting late. We hoped our parents wouldn't be too angry with us when we got home late that evening.
There was no sign of Rod. The house was silent, like it had been before. We dumped our bikes behind some trees and crouched down under the branches to watch. At least we had a good spot to wait it out. The ground was covered in pine needles and it was quite warm.
Nothing happened for about an hour.
Bones saw it first. Someone had appeared on the verandah of the house. It was Rod, but he looked different.
He was taller, and he was wearing a one-piece suit, like an overall, made of white, silvery cloth. It went right up to his neck and right down to his feet. Only his face and hands were uncovered.