After I'd been paid (and also after I'd lent Charlotte The Dancing Cats of Applesap because she couldn't bear not knowing the end of the story), I asked Dr. Johanssen if I could talk to her in private.

"Of course," saidCharlotte 's mother, and we sat down in the kitchen.

"It's my diabetes," I blurted out. "I'm tired all the time, hungrier and thirstier than I should be, and . . . and . . ."I finally managed to admit to her that I'd been getting funny blood sugar readings.

I was afraid Dr. Johanssen might blow up at me for ignoring all this stuff. She's not my doctor, but she's a doctor, and she's told me I can always go to her when I have questions. But Dr. Johanssen didn't blow up. (I should have known she wouldn't. She's not an explosive person.)

However, she did say, "I think you should have this checked out soon, Stacey. You're awfully busy, you're under a lot of stress, and you do have a tricky form of diabetes. Why don't you ask your mom to call your doctor inNew York ? Or make an appointment to see your doctor, since you're going to visit your dad in a few days."

"Okay," I replied. "Thanks, Doctor Johanssen."

"Any time, honey."

I called good-bye toCharlotte then and left the Johanssens' house. I had intended to go home and catch up on some of my homework. Besides, I was ravenous. I could have eaten a horse. Maybe two. Even so, I suddenly didn't feel like going home. I wanted to be with someone — in particular with my best friend, Claudia Kishi. I needed to talk to her.

I needed an escape.

Chapter 2.

Claudia and I have been best friends since that day at the beginning of seventh grade when we ran into each other. (I mean, actually ran into each other.) We realized we were dressed alike — in very trendy clothes — and somehow we hit it off. Then when Kristy Thomas, one of Claud's friends, wanted to start a baby-sitting club, I was asked to join.