To be honest, I didn't like Watson much at

first. Oh, all right. I hated him. I didn't want anything to do with him, even though he likes baseball as much as I do. I even refused to meet his kids. You know what brought us together? The Baby-sitters Club. Once, in an emergency, I got a job sitting for Karen and Andrew. By the time the job was over, I thought they were the greatest kids in the world. Now I am so, so glad they're my steps.

It was a Friday afternoon, almostfive o'clock . Mom and Watson were both at work. Sam was around somewhere. He was probably doing his homework. He likes to get it out of the way on Fridays so he can turn into a couch potato for the rest of the weekend. Charlie was out, but I was waiting for him to come home. Three times a week he drives me to and from meetings of the Baby-sitters Club, which are held from five-thirty untilsix o'clock in my old neighborhood on the other side of Stoney-brook.

I decided I better go check on the little kids. I never know what Karen might be up to. She's not naughty, but she's fearless and has a wild imagination. (Watson calls it "fertile," I guess meaning that any idea could grow there.)

Trying to keep track of all the people (not to mention animals) in my house is not easy, especially when Karen and Andrew are over.

Can you believe that my mom has been talking about wanting another kid? I can't. I love children, but there's plenty of confusion at our house as it is. Besides, my mother is at least thirty-seven.

I found Karen, Andrew, and David Michael in the backyard. They were trying to play three-man softball.

"This is so dumb!" David Michael was saying. (He was only saying that because he had just missed the ball.)

"David Michael," I said, "watch the ball when it's being pitched. Don't look at your bat. I know you want to connect the two of them, but believe me, you won't hit the ball if you don't look at it."