In the distance, the ferry slips hunkered under a huge sign that said ERIE-LACKAWANNA. The boat slowed as it approached the slip, finally docking to disgorge its passengers. Jaime had to walk only a few minutes to get to his apartment, in a brand-new building with views of the Manhattan skyline.

Jaime hated it. Hated the white walls and the spotless carpets and the windows so clear that birds sometimes flew right into them. He hated the blare of the giant televisions coming from the enormous gym downstairs, the helpful security guards, the happy children running through the hallways. He had never once swum in the rooftop pool no matter how hot it got, refused to even get a muffin at the shop on the ground floor. Mima said he was being ridiculous, but Jaime knew she didn’t like the place any better than he did. She was, however, much better at making the best of things.

Jaime got on the perfectly normal elevator that traveled only up and down, and punched the perfectly normal-looking button, and grumbled to himself as he did. The elevator door was about to close, when he heard a high voice pipe, “EXCUSE ME, PLEASE.”

Jaime put a hand between the closing doors, and they opened to reveal a small girl, about six, on a blue tricycle. The girl had light brown skin and high pigtails that stuck up like antennae. She was wearing a knee-length white smock splattered with neon paint, black leggings printed with tiny dinosaurs, and red rubber galoshes. A large raccoon-cat sat in the basket of the tricycle, brandishing a cheese curl.

“Cricket?” Jaime said.

“Who else would it be?” Cricket said, pedaling the tricycle onto the elevator.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” said Cricket.

“I live here,” Jaime said.

“No, I live here.”

“Since when?”

Cricket dug around underneath Karl, causing him to chitter in protest. She pulled out a large watch and consulted it. “Since a hundred minutes ago.”

“A little over an hour?”

She scowled. “A hundred minutes.”

“Okay, but—”

“Eleventh floor, please,” Cricket said, jamming the watch back under Karl, who squawked.

“That’s my floor!” Jaime said.

“No,” Cricket said, “it’s mine.”

Jaime pressed “11” again, and the doors closed. “Well, maybe it’s both of ours.”

Cricket thought about this for a second. Then she said, “It’s mine, but I’ll let you live there.”

Jaime couldn’t help it, he laughed. Cricket’s scowl deepened, and he laughed again.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just think you’re funny.”

Cricket shook her head. “I’m not funny. I am very serious. For example, I have been exploring this building and it’s all wrong. It’s PECULIAR.”

Even though Jaime, too, thought it was all wrong and also PECULIAR, he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Way too white and shiny,” she said.

“You might be right about that.”