Excerpt from “Stone Cold Fox”
“I don’t know the scientific names of plants and flowers,” she says. “But I can tell you how to ride the bus from, let’s say, Hunter’s Point to Stonestown Mall.” She breathes in and out three times, but he only stares at her, so she points to his backpack on the ground and tries again. She says, “I probably can’t fill in the blanks on your quiz about Greek gods or the food pyramid, but I have private deities and secret snacks from my cousins in the Philippines, and I will share both with you, if you ask.”
He’s not sure what to make of her, this fellow 11-year-old whose vocabulary includes the word “deities” and whose mother lets her wear gigantic gold hoop earrings and t-shirts that say things like “stone cold fox.” He wants to touch the tip of her nose with his own, wants to trace the lines on her palms. He stares at a spot in the sky just above her head. He understands that she is waiting for him to speak. He manages: “I already have a best friend.”