Beyond the Puzzle Border

Rafi had lived in Willow Bay for six days, long enough to unpack his books but not long enough to recognize anyone at the community center. Outside the activity room, a flyer displayed the heading “Thursday Puzzle Table.” Beneath a photograph of smiling people, the caption read, “Last week's puzzle crew.” Every chair in the photograph was filled.

Inside, Mira and Mr. Vega were sorting puzzle pieces with a boy named Ellis. They passed pieces back and forth without speaking, as if they could read one another's minds. Rafi stayed in the doorway, rubbing the folded flyer between his fingers.

Mira looked up. She pulled a chair from beside the wall and swept a patch of scattered pieces away from it. “Here's a spot,” she said. Rafi sat down, keeping his hands in his lap until Ellis pushed a tray of pieces toward him.

The puzzle on its board showed a harbor, but the box lid with the finished picture had disappeared. A stubborn gap stretched beneath a wooden dock. Ellis had collected pieces with red letters for a shop sign near the top. None of them fit, so he nudged the little pile aside. “Wrong puzzle, maybe,” he said.

Rafi picked up one of the rejected pieces. The letter on it faced backward. Along its edge ran thin, wavy lines. He glanced at the dock, then at the partly finished shop above it. He opened his mouth, closed it, and finally said, “Could these letters belong in the water?”

Mr. Vega turned toward him. “Show us what you're seeing.” Rafi pointed to the backward letter and the wavy lines. “Maybe it's a reflection of the sign.” Mira slid the whole pile closer. “Let's try it.” Together they rotated the pieces and tested their edges. A red letter clicked into the gap beneath the dock, followed by another. The broken sign shimmered in its paper harbor.

“That part fooled us for ages,” Ellis said. He moved his tray between their chairs. “Want to work on the boats with me?” This time, Rafi reached for a piece without waiting. As they worked, he told Ellis about the model boats he had left packed at home.

At closing time, Mira slid the board holding the unfinished puzzle onto a shelf. “Same time next Thursday,” she said. Rafi took out his small notebook and wrote down the time. Before leaving, he looked at the flyer again. The crowded photograph had not changed, but he no longer counted the chairs.