I laugh, having no idea what she’s talking about but thoroughly enjoying her enthusiasm.

“Oh, guess what,” she says. “My birthday’s on Saturday.”

She talks as though we are old friends, and something about her comfort with me is at once familiar and devastatingly out of my reach. “And how old are you going to be, Maree?”

“Two digits, Ms. Claire! Finally!” From her backpack, she slides out a ziplock bag, places it carefully on her lap with a furtive glance toward Kiko. “I made lemon bars for the class. It’s just stuff that’s in a box, but I think they’re pretty yummy. Want to try one?”

I nod and she hands me a napkin with a doughy lump that’s more round than square and drenched in powdered sugar. I take a bite and she stares at me, eyebrows arched high in anticipation.

“Delicious!” I say.

She blows air through her nose and leans all the way back in her beanbag, looking relieved. “I knew it! Leonora said they were gross, but I knew she was lying.” She makes a face at a girl who sits in front of a desktop computer wearing headphones.

I try to change the subject. “So what are you going to do for your birthday?”

She shrugs. “Maybe something with my best friend, Leonora.” She leans close, lowers her voice. “’Cept sometimes she makes me so mad, and I don’t want to be around her, and other times she’s hilarious, you know?”

I nod. “Friendships can be tricky.”

She peers up at me over her glasses. “Hey, you’re best friends with my dad. Is he tricky?”

I do know that her dad is Tate because it’s on the note card in front of me, but I rub my neck because hearing it out loud makes it feel new.

She looks sheepish. “Oh, right; sorry. You know, sometimes I forget all about your sucky memory problem ’cause you’re so easy to talk to and stuff.”

I have to blink several times. It’s such a kind thing to hear. “Thank you,” I say.

She keeps talking. “And Tate is my dad, and he’s been your best friend since you guys were little, kinda like”—she scrunches one side of her mouth—“me and Leonora.”

It seems like she wants to talk about her friend problems. “I always thought that good friends make each other better people. Do you and Leonora do that for each other?”

Maree pushes her lips out, thinking. “Maybe. She said I was going to get fat if I kept eating cookies.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah, so I guess she is a good friend, ’cause instead I gave her all my cookies and that was very nice of me.” She holds up a small booklet held together by pink and green staples. “Can I read my Uki story to you now?”

I settle into the beanbag. “Of course.”