“I have a problem,” Rose announced to our group during recess. We all stopped talking to listen to Rose. She had moved here not that long ago, but she already felt like a good friend.

     “My grandparents are moving here from Mexico,” Rose continued, “and my parents want me to go to their apartment every day after school to help them get adjusted to the neighborhood, because they don’t speak English. I love my grandparents and I’m glad to help them, but I don’t want to do it alone. I’d like a friend to go with me, but I think it would be too hard and boring if that person didn’t speak Spanish. So do any of you speak Spanish at all?”

     I looked at Kristen, who looked at Britta, who looked at Olga. Then we all looked back at Rose, shaking our heads.

     “Sorry, Rose,” I spoke for the group. “None of us speak Spanish.”

     Rose sighed. “I was hoping one of my new friends could. But I’ll go see if I can find someone else who can.”

     As Rose left, the rest of us went back to choosing sides for soccer.

     After school, I hurried to the library for my book club meeting. Since it was my turn to present, I stood at the front of the meeting room, spread my materials across the desk, and talked to the group. At one point, I glanced out the window into the main library and spotted Rose, at a computer station, looking in my direction. I smiled at her, but she looked away. Maybe she didn’t see me, I thought.

     When my meeting ended, I walked into the library and saw Rose at the checkout desk.

     “See you tomorrow, Rose,” I called as I passed the counter.

     Rose looked up, but didn’t answer. Instead, she frowned at me.

     That’s strange, I thought. She seems mad at me, but what did I do? She can’t be mad at me because I don’t speak Spanish, can she?

     Then, I admit, I forgot all about Rose as I headed home because I ran into Marcy and Josh, and we started talking about Saturday’s soccer game.

     But the next morning as I hurried up the steps to school, I remembered Rose’s strange behavior. I had to, because she stood at the top of the steps glaring at me.

     I couldn’t stand this anymore. I had to find out what was going on.

     “Rose,” I said. “Why are you mad at me? I haven’t done anything!”

     “Emily,” Rose replied, looking like she wanted to explode, “you said you couldn’t speak Spanish. But I saw you yesterday after school teaching a Spanish class! You lied to me!”

     “Teaching a Spanish class?” I stared at Rose, totally confused. “But I …” I paused, remembering something. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Rose, come with me.”

     I grabbed Rose’s hand and before she could protest, I pushed open the front door and started pulling her down the hallway, toward the library. Half walking, half running, we entered the library, turned the corner, and reached the meeting room.

     And there, taped onto the window, we could see the problem, and the solution. A sign that read “Do Not Disturb. Spanish Class in Progress”.

     “Rose,” I said. “They forgot to take the sign off the window after the evening Spanish class. I wasn’t teaching a Spanish class. I was presenting at my book club!”

     “Oh,” Rose said, staring at the sign. Then she looked at me. “Sorry.” Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

     “That’s okay,” I said. “It is pretty funny.”

     We smiled at each other, then we both started laughing.

     And then I thought of something.

     “Rose,” I said. “This has given me a great idea. I’ll take the Spanish class! I can start learning Spanish and help you with your grandparents. I won’t be much help at first, but I can practice with all of you, and get better.”

     “Emily, would you really do that for me?” Rose asked.

     “Sure,” I replied. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

     “Amigos,” Rose answered, putting her arm around my shoulders.

     “Si,” I replied. “I guess I know some Spanish after all.”

     Rose and I both laughed again as we left the library. Hey, I realized, laughter’s the same in every language, including the language of friendship.