A Friend

Margo's daughter came home from school that Friday with a new friend. From the window in the kitchen, where she was trying and failing to make decent croissants for the third time this week, Margo watched the bus deposit her eight-year-old daughter, Anya, and some unknown boy, which was odd because the town was so small and Margo had often been at Anya's school to volunteer and had no memory of him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only a denim vest and parachute pants. He had no backpack, no books. Margo watched the boy and Anya talk for a few minutes, Anya gesticulating wildly at their house while the boy peered at it with what seemed like suspicion. Finally, the boy nodded, Anya took him by the hand, and they walked to the front door.

"Hello, there," Margo said, greeting them in the hallway. "Who's this?"

"This is Harbell," Anya said.

"What, now?" Margo asked.

"HAR. BELL," Anya said, stressing each syllable. "He's new at school."

"Hello, Harbell," Margo said, but the boy seemed pained by her attention. He did not reply.

"Can we have a snack?" Anya asked.

"Well, hold on," Margo replied. "I need to make sure it's okay with Harbell's mom and dad that he's at our house."

"It's okay," Anya said. "His mom was at drop-off, and we talked to her, and she said it was okay. She said that she'd pick him up at five. I gave her our address."

"Why didn't she just drive you here to the house?" Margo asked, because there was something strange about this woman who would let her child go off to hang out with some random family without even checking it out.

"She had to get back to work," Anya answered quickly. "She's a karate master."

"Say what?" Margo replied, confused, trying to keep up. The entire time, Harbell was simply staring at the umbrella stand like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. He had the darkest circles under his eyes.

"She's opened her own dojo!" Anya said, starting to hop around. "She said I can have free lessons."

"Oh, well, okay," Margo said.

"Can we have chips?" Anya asked.

"What about croissants?" Margo responded, trying to unload this new batch.

"Oh, Harbell hates croissants. He might even be allergic, I think."

"Is that true, Harbell?" Margo asked the boy, who was still staring at the umbrella stand. It was hard for Margo not to stare at it, too. Maybe he'd never seen one before? "No croissants?"

"I guess not," Harbell said, looking embarrassed. His voice was really deep, unnatural coming from this scrawny kid.

"Chips!" Anya said. She was always a little hyper, hard to settle down, but this boy, a new friend, had sent her into some new state of excitement. Anya did a few karate kicks, then a kind of impressive roundhouse, nearly hitting Harbell, who didn't even flinch. Trying to catch her breath, Anya bowed to Margo and grabbed Harbell's hand to lead him upstairs to her room.

A few minutes later, when Margo walked into Anya's room with a bowl of corn chips, the two kids were stacking building blocks, and Margo almost gasped to see that the blocks rose nearly to the ceiling.

"How did you do that?" Margo asked, watching the blocks sway just slightly but never fall.

"Harbell's really good at stacking. He went to this summer camp last year where they learned how to stack things."

"Stacking camp," Harbell rumbled, looking a little proud of himself.

"Stacking camp!" Anya said. "Can I go this summer?"

"I guess so," Margo replied. She felt like she'd dropped acid. "I'll ask Harbell's mom for information about it when she picks him up."

"You rock, Mom!" Anya said.

"Don't get too crazy now, Anya," Margo told her. Harbell was holding a block in his hand, like he was weighing it, staring up at...