For example, just this afternoon, Cricket and Karl were exploring the building, taking note of all entrances and exits, suspicious persons and/or happenings, as was their habit. While the security guard was making his rounds, Cricket took the opportunity to search his desk, which was when she found what she called a “wiggle worm.” Cricket declared the thing EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS and confiscated it, telling Karl that she was going to bring it back to their apartment for further study. But before they could do that, the security guard came back, saw the wiggle worm in Cricket’s hand, and the berserking—and this not-so-merry chase—began.

Now Cricket took a right turn so hard that the back wheel of the tricycle came off the ground, then slammed back down, rocking Karl in his basket. They careened past startled residents in bathing suits heading for the rooftop pool, a pack of glum teenagers with black makeup reminiscent of Karl’s own raccoon mask, a pair of dads in unfortunate Bermuda shorts. Cricket jerked the handlebars right again, and they circled back around to the lobby, where they almost ran over a tall boy with short, tidy dreadlocks and glasses. Jaime, his name was.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jaime said, catching the handlebars. “Where are you going so fast, Cricket?”

Cricket didn’t have time to answer, because the security guard came chugging up behind them, shoes squeaking on the marble floor.

“Thanks, kid,” the guard said. “I’ll take it from here.” He reached out to grab Cricket’s arm, but Jaime stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?” he said to the guard.

“My job,” the guard said. “Now, you listen to me, little girl, you need to—”

“Excuse me, sir, but I asked you what you think you’re doing,” Jaime said. “Why were you chasing her like that? She’s just a baby.”

Cricket began, “I am not a—” but Jaime held out a hand to keep her from finishing her sentence. Karl was surprised when Cricket snapped her mouth shut.

The guard scowled and wiped sweat off his pale forehead. “She stole something from my desk.”

“What did she steal?” Jaime asked.

The man scowled even more deeply. “Something.”

“Something,” Jaime said, his tone flat.

“Something important.”

“A sandwich? A cup of coffee? Your diary? A million dollars? What?”

“No need to be rude,” said the guard.

Jaime whipped off his eyeglasses, suddenly seeming much older than he was. “Rude is chasing a baby around an apartment building. Rude is scaring a baby.”

“That girl does not look scared,” the guard insisted. But people in the lobby were starting to stare. The guard shifted from one foot to the other, as if his pants were too tight. Well, they were too tight, in Karl’s opinion, though he himself had never worn pants.

“I was just trying to get my important, um, thing back.”