"Take it back!"

"No!"

"Do it!"

"No."

"You're stuck up."

Pockie got mad and turned kind of green. He pointed his finger right into Jimmy's chest. "You eat meat. You're an animal."

"Am not! Am not! I'm a human. I eat animals. Go eat your yucky soy curd!"

"My daddy says meat-eating is bar-baric."

"I'm not playing with you any more."

"Good. Now you can eat all the hamburgers you want."

"I'm not playing with you any more, Pockie."

"Good."

Jimmy started to walk away. "I hope you like playing chess by yourself!"

"At least I won't have to play with a stinky meat-eater!" he shouted. Pockie sounded almost like he was going to cry, but he didn't.

Jimmy stomp-stomped away from Pockie.

For a while Jimmy played by himself. He didn't need dumb old Pockie to have fun. He could play with his toys without sharing. He went off-road on the rug with his red truck. "Vroooom! Vrooooom!"

The truck bumped into a chair leg. Pockie liked to use the chair as an inter . . . um . . . something complicated. He would run trains and buses in and out. Jimmy got cross. Who needed Pockie and his railroads anyway? "Vrooom!"

Later, Jimmy sat in the big comfy chair reading a story. He read it out loud, but there was no one to listen to it. He wanted to tell his own story. It was about spaceships and aliens that looked like walking purple dust-mops, but there was no one to tell it to. Jimmy closed the book. "I'm lonely," he said.

Jimmy found Pockie in the other room. He was seated in front of the computer.

"Whatcha doing?" Jimmy asked.

"Playing a game," Pockie said, without looking up. "I solve a math equation like this. If I enter the right answer, the magic chest opens and reveals another science fact."

"I have a new book about boats." Jimmy tugged on Pockie's sleeve. "Don't you want to learn about Earth transportation?"

"Okay." Pockie paused the game and followed Jimmy into the other room.

Pockie got a blanket and they both climbed into the big comfy chair.

Jimmy opened the book. "Are you still mad at me?"

Pockie, who was warm and snug curled up behind him, shook his head.

Jimmy frowned and took a deep breath. "Don't lie to me, Pockie. Or your pants will catch on fire."

Pockie bit his lip. "Just read the book, Jimmy," he said quietly.

Jimmy turned the pages too quickly. "It's just a boring book."

"Stop. Go back." Pockie pulled the corner of the book towards him. Spread across two pages was a detailed painting of a seaport, with a great tanker in dock and multicolored containers stacked beside giant cranes. "Intermodal container transfer facility," he read.

"What's that?" Jimmy asked.

"It means they transfer containers between modes. The sea mode and the land mode. Freight trains and big rigs are land transportation."

"Awesome," Jimmy said. He liked trucks. He liked boats too. "Wanna see a sailing ship?"

"Yes," Pockie said.

Jimmy turned to the first page. A wooden boat with masts and sails rode a choppy sea. A seagull flew overhead and there were islands on the horizon. Pockie was fascinated.

"A hundred, hundred year ago, Earthers built ships like this and sailed all over the Earth," Jimmy said.

"Just like in Treasure Island," Jimmy added.

"That's just a story," said Pocky, who was trying to trace the path of a line of rope through the rigging. He couldn't figure out how the ropes went through the pulleys.

"Are you still mad at me?" Jimmy asked. "I'm sorry about earlier. I want to play with you again."

"I am playing with you."

"You don't think Vulcans are really better than humans, do you?" Jimmy nudged him a bit. "Do you?"

"I only said," Pockie declared, looking up from the book, "that Vulcans are better at math."

"So what? Math is only one thing. Humans are good at lots of things."

Pockie wrapped his arms around Jimmy. "Humans are good for hugging," he said.

Jimmy dumped the book on the floor. "Vulcans are warm. They make good blankets," he said.

"You can share mine," said Pockie.

Jimmy laid his head down and pretended to take a nap on top of Pockie.

"I'm sorry I said mean things to you," Pockie said. "I was pre-ci-pitous."

"What does that mean?"

"Rash."

"What's rash?"

"When you act too quickly."

"Like super-speed?"

"Rash means you don't think about it before you do it and then you're sorry later."

Jimmy hugged Pockie. "You'll always be my friend, right?"

"Yes."

"Forever and ever?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do I hafta eat bean curd?"

"No, you can eat hamburgers, and I can eat bean curd."

"Okay."

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it when I said you had no fashion sense. I meant to say that you're in--inimini . . . um, one of a kind."

"I didn't mean it when I said you were stuck up. You're not stuck up at all."

Pockie stretched and curled up closer.

Jimmy sat up. "Hey, Pockie," he said, shaking Pockie's shoulder, "Let's play!"

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