Marisol

Quick Facts

• Role: Best friend and primary confidante to Jackson; a steady, reality-checking presence who also protects space for wonder
• First appearance: Mentioned early (Chapter 2); memorably described during a playground flashback (Chapter 30)
• Home and activities: Lives in Jackson’s neighborhood; co-founder of “See Spot Walk,” their dog‑walking service
• Notable look: “Long, dark, crazy hair and an unusually large smile” (Chapter 30); often in pajamas, with sawdust in her hair from nonstop building projects
• Core function: A bridge between facts and Truth and Imagination, helping Jackson name his fears without needing every mystery solved

Who They Are

Bold, unfussy, and curious, Marisol is the kid who shows up with a toolbox and a trivia fact, then refuses to let problems stay unspoken. She trades nature facts with Jackson, builds bat shelters for fun, and wears pajamas in public because practicality beats pretense. Crucially, she doesn’t police the border between the explainable and the mysterious. Marisol accepts that life sometimes works like a magic trick—you don’t have to see how it’s done to feel its truth. That balance lets her be both scientist and seer: the friend who listens hard, asks direct questions, and still leaves room for wonder.

Personality & Traits

Marisol’s defining tension—equal parts empiricist and dream‑ally—makes her the exact counterweight Jackson needs. She validates his love of facts while urging him to stop pathologizing what he can’t measure. Her bluntness isn’t cruelty; it’s care with backbone.

• Scientific and inquisitive: A facts enthusiast who trades trivia on dog walks; her first dream job was paleontologist. She “used to bury chicken bone leftovers in her sandbox for digging practice” (Chapter 2).
• Creative and hands‑on: A constant builder—birdhouses, bat shelters, cat climbing structures for her seven cats—usually seen carrying a saw or tools. Her practicality shows in how she solves problems with materials and imagination, not abstractions.
• Loyal and accepting: When Jackson finally confides his family’s instability and the return of his imaginary friend, she listens without judgment and says, “I don’t think you’re going crazy” (Chapter 45).
• Embraces imagination: Having had her own imaginary friend, Whoops, she encourages Jackson to value the feeling of a mystery rather than dissecting it, reinforcing the book’s Truth and Imagination theme.
• Direct and honest: She refuses to indulge spirals of self‑pity, even punctuating tough love with a shoulder punch to snap Jackson out of rumination—no‑nonsense friendship in action.
• Distinct presence: The text emphasizes her “long, dark, crazy hair and an unusually large smile” (Chapter 30), pajamas‑in‑public swagger, and sawdust‑in‑hair energy—visual shorthand for her joyful disregard for appearances.

Character Journey

Marisol’s arc is intentionally subtle: she doesn’t transform so much as she transforms the space around her. In a narrative where Jackson tries to barricade his emotions behind “only facts,” Marisol models a different kind of knowledge—empathetic, provisional, and unafraid of the inexplicable. She normalizes hard truths (impending eviction, hunger, homelessness) without making them Jackson’s fault, and she reframes the return of his imaginary friend as a compassionate mechanism rather than a crisis. By accepting what Jackson can’t yet accept, she gives him permission to integrate facts with feeling—an essential step in the story’s exploration of Family and Resilience.

Key Relationships

Jackson Marisol and Jackson are intellectual twins with different defaults: he interrogates, she synthesizes. Their bond—trading nature facts, walking dogs, building a tiny business together—creates trust sturdy enough for Jackson to share what he hides from almost everyone else. When his parents are overwhelmed, Marisol supplies steadiness and practical care, validating his fears without inflaming them. Her own family life—often on the road, and “kind of boring” by her account (Chapter 37)—contrasts with Jackson’s chaotic, loving household, clarifying that every family carries its own kind of weather.

Crenshaw Marisol never needs to see Crenshaw to honor his meaning. By treating the cat’s return like a magician’s trick—worth savoring even if the method is unknown—she removes the shame and “craziness” frame from Jackson’s experience. Her stance shifts Crenshaw from problem to resource, helping Jackson meet his fears with imagination rather than denial.

Defining Moments

Marisol’s key scenes reveal how she blends practicality with wonder—and how that blend steadies Jackson when facts alone fail.

• The Crenshaw Statue (Chapter 37)

  • What happens: Aretha delivers Jackson’s clay Crenshaw figurine to Marisol, who admires the “lame” school project and casually says, “Crenshaw would be a good name for a cat, I think.”
  • Why it matters: Her sincere appreciation transforms a relic of Jackson’s past into a touchstone. By naming what he’s trying not to name, she nudges him toward acknowledgment instead of avoidance.

• The Confession (Chapter 44)

  • What happens: Jackson finally tells her everything—eviction fears, the memory of homelessness, and the return of his imaginary companion.
  • Why it matters: Marisol becomes the first safe audience for the full truth, turning secrecy (which breeds shame) into shared reality (which allows help).

• Accepting the Magic (Chapter 45)

  • What happens: Marisol reframes Jackson’s need to “understand everything,” urging him to enjoy the mystery like a well‑done magic trick.
  • Why it matters: This is the philosophical pivot of the friendship. She loosens his grip on certainty so he can hold his feelings—and Crenshaw—with less fear.

Essential Quotes

“Hey, I’m Marisol,” said the girl. I’d seen her at recess before. She had long, dark, crazy hair and an unusually large smile. “I have a Tyrannosaurus backpack just like yours. I’m going to be a paleontologist when I grow up...” (Chapter 30) This introduction crystallizes her blend of science nerd and exuberant presence. The vivid description—wild hair, big smile—pairs with a concrete ambition, signaling that her curiosity is not theoretical; it’s an identity.

“Why do you have to understand everything, Jackson? I like not knowing everything. It makes things more interesting.” (Chapter 45) Marisol counters Jackson’s control-by-knowledge impulse with a defense of uncertainty. Her phrasing turns “not knowing” from failure into invitation, reframing curiosity as openness rather than conquest.

“But you took the magic away, Jackson. I liked thinking that little gray bunny appeared in a man’s hat. I liked believing it was magic... just enjoy the magic while you can, okay?” (Chapter 45) By connecting delight to not‑knowing, Marisol protects the emotional function of mystery. She isn’t anti‑fact; she’s pro‑wonder, especially when wonder is what keeps hard times bearable.

“You and I will be friends for life,” Marisol said. She stated it like any nature fact. Like she’d just said “The grass is green.” (Chapter 45) The simile turns loyalty into law of the natural world. Declared with the same calm certainty as a field guide entry, her promise gives Jackson the stability he craves—no loopholes, no caveats, just fact-like faith.