It all started to make Evan dizzy.

He felt his legs tremble. His forehead throbbed.

The police had formed a line. They started to circle Evan.

As they closed in, Evan felt himself explode. “I can’t take any more!” he screamed, raising his fists. “Stop it! Stop it! All of you! Get away! Leave me alone! I mean it!”

Silence as the sirens cut off. The voices hushed.

And then Evan heard the red-haired police officer shout to the others: “He’s turned violent. We have to bring him down!”

Evan didn’t have time to be frightened.

The firehoses chugged and gurgled—then shot out thick streams of water.

Evan ducked low. Dove forward. Tried to get away from the roaring water.

The force of the water stream ripped the ground to his side.

Evan dodged to the other side.

Wow! That’s powerful! he thought, horrified. The water is strong enough to knock me over!

Frightened shouts rose up over the roar of the water.

Evan plunged through the line of dark-uniformed police officers—and kept running. “Don’t shoot!” he screamed. “Don’t shoot me! I’m not from another planet! I’m just a boy!”

He didn’t know if they could hear him or not.

He dodged past several startled onlookers. A long hook-and-ladder stood in his path.

He stopped. Glanced back.

Firefighters were turning the hoses. The powerful spray arced high. Water crashed to the ground just behind Evan, loud as thunder.

Kids and parents were running in all directions, frantic, frightened expressions locked on their faces.

Evan took a deep breath. Bent his knees. And leaped over the fire truck in his path.

He heard shouts of surprise behind him. He vaulted high over the truck. Landed hard on the other side. Stumbled. Caught his balance.

Then, ducking low, his arms stretched out in front of him, Evan ran.

His long legs carried him away quickly. As he reached the street, a low tree branch popped up as if from nowhere.

Evan dipped his head just in time.

Leaves scratched over his forehead, but he kept running.

Got to watch out for tree branches, he warned himself. Got to remember that I’m two stories tall.

Breathing hard, he plunged across the street. The late afternoon sun was lowering behind the trees. The shadows were longer now, and darker. Evan’s shadow seemed a mile long as it stretched out in front of him.

He heard the rise and fall of shrill sirens behind him. Heard angry shouts. Heard the thud of footsteps, people running after him.

Where can I hide? he asked himself. Where will I be safe?

Home?

No. That’s the first place the police will look.

Where? Where?

It was so hard to think clearly. They were close behind him, he knew. Chasing him. Eager to bring him down.

If only he could stop somewhere, close his eyes, shut them all out, and think. Then maybe he could come up with a plan.

But he knew he had to keep running.

His head throbbed. His chest ached.

His long legs were taking him quickly away from the playground. But he still felt awkward, with his sneakers so far below him and his head so high in the trees.

I’ll hide out at Kermit’s house, he thought.

Then he quickly decided that was a bad idea, too.

“I can’t get in Kermit’s house!” he cried out loud. “I’m too big!”

And then he had a truly frightening thought: I can’t fit in any house!

Where will I sleep? he wondered. And then: Will they let me sleep?

Can’t the police see I’m just a boy? Evan asked himself bitterly. He turned the corner and ran past his house. The lights were all off. The door closed. No car in the driveway.

His parents hadn’t come home from work.

He kept running. Running across yards. Ducking low. Trying to hide behind shrubs and tall hedges.

Can’t they see I’m a boy? Not a creature from another planet?

Why do they think I’m so dangerous?

It’s all Conan’s fault, Evan decided. Conan got the firefighters and police all crazy with his wild stories.

His wild, true stories.