"And how are your friends?"

"What is this? A talk show?" I said, laughing.

Bart grinned. "I don't know. I mean, no. I just want to hear about your life . . . instead of softball."

I looked at Bart seriously. "Well, let's see. Mallory's really happy because she's going out with a guy for the first time. Claudia's doing better in school. But I'm a little worried about Stacey."

"Stacey," repeated Bart. "She's the one with diabetes, right?"

I nodded. "She's never really sick. She just doesn't seem well sometimes, if you know what I mean."

Bart nodded.

"How about you?" I asked. "How's everything?"

"Not bad. Kyle gets on my nerves, but I can handle him." (Kyle is Bart's little brother.) "My parents bug me, though. They hate it when my band practices in the basement."

"You have a band?" I said in amazement.

"Yup."

"What do you play?"

"Guitar. Electric, acoustic, any kind."

"I didn't know that. So have you had any . . . what are they called?"

"Gigs," supplied Bart. "Yeah, a couple. We

could get a lot more, though, if we could find a place to practice. No one wants us in their basement."

"What about a garage?"

"The neighbors complain."

"Oh."

Bart and I talked about his band and music and school until, before I knew it, we had reached my house.

Emily, my adopted sister, was sitting on the front steps with Nannie, my grandmother. She came flying out to meet me and gave me a tight hug around the knees.

"Hi, Emily," I said, picking her up. Then I called, "Hi, Nannie!"

Nannie waved to me.

"Well," said Bart, "I better get going. I told Mom I'd come home right after the game. But, urn, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Next game," I said.

"Maybe before that," Bart replied, and he walked off, whistling. I stared after him.

Chapter 2.