Dawn returned from the garage, and we sat at the kitchen table with snacks in front of us. Mine was a nice, normal after-school snack — an apple and a handful of chocolate chip cookies. Dawn's was a salad bar — a carrot stick, a zucchini stick, a celery stick, a radish, a little square of tofu, and a small container of uncooked peas. This is an example of a difference between Dawn and me, and between her mom and my dad. Dad and I eat the kind of food we were brought up on, a little of everything — fruits, vegetables, dairy stuff, meat, sweets. Dawn and her mom think it's practically a felony to eat meat. Or sugar. A really great dessert for Dawn is, like, some berries. Now, I am not, I repeat not, addicted to junk food the way our friend Claudia Kishi is, but

excuse me, berries are not dessert as far as I'm concerned. Cake is dessert. Chocolate pie is dessert. A large brownie is dessert. Maybe berries are dessert, but only if a piece of cheesecake is underneath them.

Dawn poked around at her peas, and I bit into my apple.

"I saw the twins' baby brother this mom-ing," said Dawn. (We have friends — not close friends, just school friends — who are twins. Their names are Mariah and Miranda Shillaber, and they have a brother who is just a year and a half old.)

"You did?" I said. "Where? Is he adorable?"

"Yeah, he's pretty cute. He was with Mrs. Shillaber. They'd dropped off Mariah and Miranda at school."

"The twins are so lucky," I said. "I wish our parents would have a baby. They still could, you know. It isn't too late."

"And if my mom doesn't want to give birth to another baby," added Dawn, "then she and Richard could adopt one." (Richard is my father.)

"I know. It worked for Kristy's family."