She opens the book. “Once upon a time, there was a brave strong warrior girl named Uki, and she was smart and fast, and she didn’t take crap from anyone.”

I bite my tongue, decide to let the choice of words pass in favor of hearing her story.

“There was a boy in Uki’s village who was the shortest and smallest of every kid, and he was scared of everyone. There was a troll who lived under a bridge, and he threw rocks and staples and pencils at the boy and called him lots of mean names. The boy trembled with fear.”

She shows me an illustration of a big orange blob with horns—the troll, I assume—beside a small stick-figure boy with pencils sticking out of him and a tear falling to the ground.

“So Uki collected a bunch of sap and tricked the troll into drinking it. It stuck to his mouth like glue and so he couldn’t talk and never said mean things to the boy ever again.”

This picture is of the orange blob with horns and a tear falling off its face. She turns the page to a big pink heart.

“And the boy loved her from that day on.”

She closes the book.

“I loved it. You’re very creative, Maree.”

“That’s the last one. I’m all out of Uki stories.”

“That’s a shame,” I say.

She shrugs. “That’s life.”

“Next station, please,” Kiko announces, and Maree pops up from the beanbag chair like only a kid can.

“My birthday’s on Saturday. Don’t forget!”

I smile, hold my hands out in front of me, and say, because I think we are comfortable with each other, “Oops, I already have!”

Her face lights up, and she laughs so hard she bends in half. “Oh, Ms. Claire, you’re so funny.” She takes the note card from my lap, flips it over, and writes, Dont forget again! Maree turns 10 on Saturday!, and hands it back to me. “Now you won’t forget. Bye, Ms. Claire!” She skips to the computer center and takes a seat.

I smile at the uneven scrawl across my note card, then check my schedule for today, pleased to see that I’m going to Anchorage this afternoon with Ruth. I’ll pick up a present for Maree there.