The next Sunday,
as my mom was leaving to visit her aunt,
my dad came into my room.
“Guess who I just saw in the lobby?” he asked.
He looked very happy.
I couldn’t think of a neighbor
who would make him so happy.
So I said,
“Jorge Posada?”
Jorge Posada is a New York Yankees baseball player.
My dad loves Jorge Posada.
My dad laughed.
“Then who?” I asked.
“Agnes,” he said.
“From the apartment upstairs.
She was there with her mom.
I invited her to come play with you.
And she’s coming!”
My mouth dropped open
and I sat straight up
and I started shaking my hands at my dad.
“I don’t like Agnes from upstairs!” I said.
“You don’t?” he said.
He didn’t look happy anymore.
“No!” I said.
“I don’t!”
Agnes from upstairs is scary.
She never talks to me.
And one time,
in the lobby,
near the doorman’s desk,
she jumped on her brother
and they both fell on my feet
and I tripped over them
and landed hard on my arm.
Bibi was there.
She helped us up
and fussed at them.
“You see all these people,” she said,
wagging her finger at them.
“You can’t be so wild.”
Then she brought Agnes and her brother to their dad
and took me upstairs
and put ice in a bag
and laid a towel on my arm
and held the ice
on the towel
on my arm
for a good long time.
I liked sitting there,
with Bibi holding ice on my arm.
So I never told her
that before she even started
my arm was feeling fine.
I said to my dad,
“I don’t want to play with Agnes.”
“But your friend Pearl is away,”
he said.
“So many of your friends are away.
And I want you to have fun.
Summer is supposed to be fun.”
“Agnes is not fun,” I said.
“Oh dear,” my dad said. “I’m not sure what to do.”
He looked worried.
“Call her mom,” I said.
“Tell them not to come.”
“But Agnes might feel very hurt,” my dad said.
I glared at him.
He still looked worried.
Finally I said,
“If Agnes is coming over,
you have to stay with me.
The whole time.”
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”