Gaspar never had those problems. Right now, Pablo was watching him walk up with his bike in a thin, mustard-colored sweatshirt that was a little too big for him, with blue jeans and Topper sneakers, and there was nothing so great about those clothes, but they sure looked great on Gaspar. Even if he wore something weird it came off cool: for example, he’d wear really long leather belts that hung off him. They were his father’s, and sometimes he had to wrap them twice around his waist. Still, the men’s buckle and the worn leather didn’t look like a costume, they provided just the right touches to make him stand out from the rest. Of course, it wasn’t just his clothes: it was his way of brushing his hair from his face, it was his long legs and dark blue eyes, round and seemingly innocent—at least until he smiled or got mad. Then something really weird happened, because the expression in his eyes would shift just slightly; Pablo didn’t know how to describe it, but it was something he both liked and distrusted—it reminded him of his cat, the way he’d purr as you petted him and then suddenly strike for no reason, with no real intention to wound, just to make it clear that he’d gotten what he needed.

When he reached Pablo, Gaspar pulled a piece of gum from his back pocket and offered it to him, a little squashed. They started to blow bubbles on the sidewalk, under the protection of a balcony that acted as a roof, because it had started to rain.

“Will you come with me to the park?” Gaspar pointed to the bike. “I went flying, you should have seen it, but I didn’t get hurt.”

He said this calmly, and Pablo knew he probably hadn’t even felt scared when he fell. There was something tough about Gaspar: they were the same age, but Pablo felt like his friend was much older. Maybe it was because he didn’t have a mom, because his father was sick, because he didn’t have family nearby, because he was so alone. He didn’t laugh much, and he listened attentively. Pablo’s mom said he was a traumatized child; Vicky’s mom said he was a sad child. Then there was Adela, who rounded out their group of inseparable friends, and Adela’s mom, who said: Juan is a widower and he’s sick, it’s not easy to raise a child alone, Gaspar is just fine.