Stuart had seen her in the neighborhood many times, walking to school or grocery shopping with her father, the author Roy Clarke. She looked about sixteen or seventeen. A teenager who helped out her parents and was never late to school. She seemed pretty responsible. It didn’t seem that weird to follow her on their skateboards to the corner of Kane and Strong, grab his and Ted’s boards, and call out to her.

“Hi. Excuse me. You live around here, right? You’re Roy Clarke’s daughter?”

“Dad, why are you yelling at her?” Ted whined. He was always whiny after Hobby Horse at school. He missed the Strategizer.

“Shhh,” Stuart said and squeezed his shoulder.

The girl stopped and turned around. She had long legs like a baby giraffe, and she seemed to have trouble keeping her head up, making eye contact difficult. She was clearly not fully formed. But then again, neither was he, and he was thirty-six.

“I’m Stuart Little. This is Ted. He goes to PS 919, right here. Anyway, our sitter for tonight kind of didn’t work out, so I was wondering if maybe you would hang with Ted while we’re out? We won’t be far away and we won’t be out very late. Say, eight to eleven. Twenty dollars an hour?” Even though she was only a teenager, he thought he ought to offer something above minimum wage. He smiled a goofy, friendly, harmless dad smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

She smiled then, not at him but at the neighborhood in general. “It’s Shy. Shy Clarke.” Her voice was low and her accent was very English. He hadn’t expected her to sound so English. “I can babysit for you. I just have to do my homework and check in with my parents.” She held out her long arm and impossibly long fingers. “Give me your phone. I’ll put in my number and you can text me the address.”

Obediently Stuart handed over his phone. She was weirdly direct. There wasn’t anything fake or pretentious about her. He liked that.

Shy wasn’t sure why she’d said yes. She’d never done any babysitting. Twenty dollars an hour seemed like a lot though, and she’d been in a weird mood ever since she and Liam had smoked his mother’s weed in the park. She felt restless, like she needed to be out of the house, away from her dad and his cheese toasties and cinnamon rolls and tea.

“I’m a big admirer of your dad’s,” Stuart said.

She grunted, typing rapidly with her thumbs. Something about this dad and his mini-me son with their faded black skinny jeans, high-top sneakers, and matching skateboards made her feel a bit obnoxious.