I found him behind the Picnic Grounds, throwing snowballs at the Great Wall. He was using the force field like a billiard cushion to bank his shots back in toward the trees. He saw me coming and waited quietly, idly tossing a snowball from one hand to the other. For a moment I thought he might be going to heave it at me. But then he looked down at it, as if it were something he'd outgrown, and tossed it indifferently aside. The expression on his face was not one of defiance, or arrogance--but neither was it that of a boy who was sorry he'd been naughty. I guess it was a sort of waiting look. "Well, son," I said, surprised that my anger had suddenly evaporated, "you sure messed things up, didn't you?" "I guess I did, all right." "You're not sorry?" "I had to find out." I nodded. "And you figure you _did_ find out, is that it?" "Yes." "You wouldn't believe me if I told you that Santa just couldn't get here--that he asked me to pretend to be him so the Kids wouldn't be disappointed?" He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't believe it." For a moment the anger boiled up in me again and I wanted to grab him and shake him. I had a crazy notion that if I shook him hard enough I could shake him back into the mold, and make him once again just a Kid in Fairyland. Then everything would be all right.... I bent over and made a snowball and heaved it at the Wall, to give my hands something to do. My throw was too straight and the force field kicked it back at us. We both ducked as it whizzed over our heads, then grinned at each other. "Come on over to Mommy and Daddy's House," I said. "I want to talk to you." We trudged along through the three-inch snow, down the path between the Circus Grounds and the dormitories. The Kids were drifting back from lunch, and I noticed the noise level was considerably lower than on any other Christmas I could remember. They hadn't completely recovered yet, and they probably wouldn't for a long time. I didn't know what to do about it except to sweat it out. Ruth greeted us at the door. "Hello, Adam," she said. "Come on in." "You're not angry with me?" She shook her head. "We know you couldn't help yourself, don't we, Daddy?" "I guess so," I said drily. We went into the living room and I waved Adam to a seat. I stretched out in my favorite chair-lounge, feeling suddenly very old and very tired. Adam sat forward in his chair, watching me with that waiting look--defiant yet shy, courageous, yet a little afraid, resigned and yet hopeful.... "Adam," I said at last, "what are you trying to prove? What is it you want?" He wet his lips and lowered his eyes for a moment. Then his gaze met mine without flinching. "It's like I told you once before," he said quietly. "I just want to know the _truth_, the real truth about _everything_!" I got to my feet and began to slowly pace the floor. I paused in front of Ruth's chair and looked down at her. She caught my hand, gave it a squeeze and nodded.