Karen pitched the ball again and David Michael watched it like a hawk. He swung. Crack! The ball sailed across the yard.

"All right! Home run!" I yelled.

I just love sports.

"Boy, thanks, Kristy!" exclaimed my brother. "That was a good tip. . . .I sure wish I could play softball or baseball on a real team, with a coach and everything."

"Me too," said Karen and Andrew.

"Hey, Kristy!" someone yelled.

"Coming!" I shouted back. It was Charlie.

He was home and ready to drive me to my club meeting.

"I gotta go, you guys. Behave yourselves, okay? Sam's home and Mom and Watson will be here soon. We'll talk about softball later."

I ran to our front drive and jumped into the car, next to Charlie.

"Ready to go visit your little friends?" he teased me.

I scowled. They are not little friends, and Charlie knows it. They are Claudia Kishi, Mary Anne Spier, Dawn Schafer, Mallory Pike, and Jessi Ramsey, and they are all different and special. And none of them is little. Claudia, Mary Anne, and Dawn are thirteen, like me. Jessi and Mal are eleven and in the sixth grade.

I used to live next door to Mary Anne (she's my best friend) and across the street from Claudia. Us thirteen-year-olds are eighth-graders inStoneybrookMiddle School . (Most of the kids in my new neighborhood go to private school, but Mom let my brothers and me stay in our regular public schools.)

Mary Anne Spier is the most sensitive person I know. Sometimes she's too sensitive. She'll cry over the slightest thing. And she's shy and quiet, like Andrew. But once she's your friend, you've got a friend for life. She is very loyal.

Maybe that's part of the reason Mary Anne was the first one of us to have a steady boyfriend. His name is Logan Bruno. Mary Anne lives with her dad and her kitten, Tigger. Her morn died a long time ago, so long ago that Mary Anne doesn't even remember her.