Other times I feel like a little kid. That's one of the problems with being eleven. My best friend, Mallory Pike, would agree with that. (By the way, Mallory is the older sister of Nicky and Vanessa. There are eight Pike kids altogether!) Mal thinks being eleven is as frustrating as I do. Maybe I would give her a call. Or maybe I would call one of my other friends in the BSC. (That's how us club members refer to the Babysitters Club.) I would certainly have my choice of people to call. Here's a list of the other members of the club: Kristy Thomas, Claudia Kishi, Mary Anne Spier, Dawn Schafer, and Stacey McGill.

I was about to take my sister and brother inside so I could call Mallory, when Squirt suddenly shrieked, "Who!" He was pointing to his feet.

"Hey, he learned a new word!" exclaimed Becca. "I think who means shoe."

"Well, you two," I replied. "You and your whos come inside. I have to make a phone call."

Chapter 2.

I have thought a lot about what makes a best friend. I still do not have an answer. Among the girls in the BSC are several pairs of best friends. There's Mal and me, of course. There are Stacey and Claudia, Mary Anne and Dawn, and Mary Anne and Kristy. (Yes, Mary Anne has two best friends.) It looks to me as if best friends have some things in common, but not everything. For instance, Mal and I are the same, yet different. Maybe that means that best friends need to have something in common but also need to find something in each other that's foreign or unusual or unexpected. (Opposites attract.) I'm not sure, though. Friendship can be complicated.

Take me. As I've said, I come from a pretty typical family — a mom, a dad, three kids, and an aunt. My passion is ballet. (I take lessons at a special dance school, and I've even starred in some productions.) I'm black. Now

take Mallory. She comes from an eight-kid family, her passion is writing, and she's white. We couldn't be more different, right? Wrong.