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blemish that isn’t nearly as noticeable as you think it is.”
    â€œIf it isn’t noticeable,” Walker replied, “then why is it the first thing about me anyone notices?”
    â€œYou’re too sensitive.” His mother sighed. “Anyway, it’s too late to disinvite her now. She’ll be here any moment.”
    â€œI’m going up to my room,” Walker said crossly. “If you want me that’s where I’ll be!”
    Walker had become skilled at avoiding his mother’s attempts to organize social occasions for him. He had developed techniques that often managed to get rid of intruders quickly, and one of them was to present himself as the most boring boy they had ever met. He decided to read a book no other kid would be interested in. He looked around his room; then his eyes stopped on the perfect solution— Collins English Dictionary and Thesaurus (New Edition) . He pulled it down from the mantel above the fireplace, settled on his bed, his legs tucked under him, and did his best to look thoroughly interested.
    There was a knock on his door and then his mother came in.
    â€œWalker, this is . . .”
    And that was as far as she got before Frances Livonia Hayes burst into the tiny bedroom and into his life like a force of nature.
    â€œHi, I’m Frances, but my friends call me Frankie. You can call me Frankie too if you like, because I think we’re going to be friends. I hope so anyway because I love having friends. I’ve got lots and lots, and I bet you do too.”
    Walker couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. She was short and skinny, and maybe a year or two younger than he was. She practically crackled with energy and Walker had the feeling she wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of.
    â€œWhat a cool room. It’s so old. I love old, don’t you? Our house is old too. Not the one in Boston, ’cause that’s an apartment, not a house, but the one across the road. I love to imagine all the things that must have happened in each room for all the years before us. Do you think anyone ever died in this room? I bet they did.”
    Actually this was one of the things that Walker had wondered about, because his bedroom was in the oldest part of the house, but Frankie had already launched into something else.
    â€œWhat are you reading? A dictionary! I love dictionaries. I spend hours looking at the one we have at home. I love words, don’t you? My favorite game is Scrabble—and crosswords. I love crosswords. What words are you looking at?”
    She took the book from his hands and ran her index finger across the pages.
    â€œHey, look at this. Phillumenist—a person who collects matchbox labels. I didn’t know matchboxes had labels, did you? Or at least none worth collecting? Don’t people do funny things?”
    Walker’s head started to spin.
    â€œSlow down!” was all he could think to say.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry,” Frankie replied. “My mom always tells me I talk too much, but I tell her it’s because I have two lawyers for parents so what does she expect. What’s that on your face? Is that a tattoo? That is so cool. I love tats. I soooo want one but my mom says I’m too young. Do you think I’m too young for one?”
    He was now confused enough that he didn’t know what to think. This was the second time in just a few hours that someone had made a virtue out of his hated birthmark. He could understand why the citizens of Nebula thought it was great, but Frankie was just an ordinary girl.
    â€œNo—I mean yes,” he finally mumbled. “I mean it’s not a tattoo. It’s a birthmark.”
    â€œWow!” she said, peering more closely. “That’s amazing. Will it ever go away?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” he replied. “I wish it would, but I don’t think it will.”
    â€œWhy would you want it to?” she