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to demonstrate her weak leg, but there was no space on the floor on account of my room being a pigsty.
    She gave up trying to show me and came over to the bed and plopped down very gracefully next to me, like Odile dying in Swan Lake. Then she put her arms around me and gave me a quick embrace.
    A hug, from someone who appreciated the things in my room. She looked at me and stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, and for some reason that just about made my heart crack open.
    I didn’t know her at all, and even though she had broken into my room, nosed through all of my stuff, and was acting like we were bosom buddies for no good reason, I liked her.
    “This is so fun!” she said. “To finally be in your room! To finally speak with you!”
    I didn’t know what kind of fun I was supposed to be having in this situation. Maybe a little bit like how I felt at Viva’s with Caitlin and Callisto. It was confusing to suddenly be saying hello to my next-door neighbor for the first time, even though it didn’t feel like the first time. It was confusing to suddenly act like we’d really known each other for the past two years when we most definitely had not.
    I wondered what Yrena wanted.
    “What do you want?” I said, trying not to sound rude, because I wasn’t trying to be. I was trying to be open, becauseshe was so open. Her face, her spirit, her excitement, were so open. It was infectious. She was sitting there on my bed, almost bouncing up and down, like a little kid.
    I started to bounce, too. With anticipation. We both started to giggle. When you giggle, it’s different from laughing. Giggling is like bubbles that lift you up, no matter how hard or dark your spirit is.
    “I have always wanted to come into your room,” she said. “It has been a great mystery to me since I moved here. I have often seen you in your room through your window and wondered about you.”
    I understood what she meant completely. She wasn’t judging me—it was just like she said, she was genuinely interested. I was a great mystery.
    “You never close your curtains,” I said. “I always close my curtains because of the streetlamp. Doesn’t it shine into your room, too?”
    I never saw her curtains closed, not even when I came home late at night. It was weird. And she always seemed to have a light on.
    “Are you afraid of the dark?” I asked. I had often wondered if maybe she was afraid of the dark.
    “No,” Yrena said. “I like to always be able to look outside.”
    “But there’s not much to see outside,” I said.
    She threw her hands up in the air.
    “There are a million things to see!”
    “Like what?”
    Yrena stood up and pulled me over to my window.
    “Birds! People! Clouds! Life!”
    She was waving her arms around at everything. And when she said it, it sounded exciting.
    “Do you know that you are the closest I’ve ever had to having an American friend?” Yrena said. “I mean to say, I always thought that we could be friends, even though you are American.”
    Then she put her hand over her mouth and kind of slapped her lips.
    “I don’t mean that we can’t be friends because you are American!”
    “I didn’t think you meant that,” I said.
    “I am not like my father! My father would say that.” Yrena looked genuinely mad at herself for this.
    “It’s silly,” I told her. “Don’t worry.”
    I didn’t want her to worry. I didn’t want her to feel bad. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed.
    I wanted to know more.
    “Honestly, I never even knew that you spoke English.”
    “I do speak English. I have watched American television! It is a good skill to have. I speak French and Italian, too.”
    I would have to remember to mention that to Todd. He’d be stoked to know that he got something right, and to learn something new about Yrena.
    She smiled at me. She had a gap between her two front teeth, and even though she was smiling, there was a kind ofsadness about her that felt familiar to me. Her