“Class, this is Zoey.” Mr. Antoine reached his hand down to pat the girl’s shoulder. “She just moved here. Can everyone say ‘Hi, Zoey’?”

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“Hi Zoey,” I chanted along with the rest of my preschool class.

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She smiled at us. A large nest of blonde hair curled around her head, her hands folded behind her. She rolled from the balls of her feet to her toes, then back. She was wearing glasses with thick multi-colored frames and large lenses that magnified her big blue eyes.

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During recess, she contentedly scrambled along the playground equipment by herself. She poked her butt in the air as she clomped through the sandbox on all fours.

She flailed her arms and yelped as she slid down the slide. She hummed to herself as she bounced solo on the see-saw. I was fascinated.

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I followed her, picking up speed as she tore across the balance beam and around the tire swing. “My name is Julia!” I called after her.

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“Hi Julia.” She skidded to a halt. “Want to go on the monkey bars with me?”

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“I don’t know how,” I admitted sheepishly.

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“C’mon, it’s easy!” she insisted. She jumped up and swung from bar to bar effortlessly, grinning at me. “I moved here from New York, you know."

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“Really?” My eyes widened. I loved New York. It was home to the largest toy store I had ever seen, that was all I dreamed of.

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She nodded. “The Bronx. I used to be black but before I moved here they painted me white.”

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“Wow!”

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“I have proof, too.” She rolled up the sleeve of her shirt and pointed to a dark circle on her elbow. “See? They missed a spot. I have another one on my foot.”