Actually, Mal and Jessi have a couple of things in common. They are both the oldest in their families (that can have some good points and some bad points). And they share some interests.

Let's start with Mal. Mal comes from an enormous family. She has seven brothers and sisters, including a set of identical triplets (boys). Mallory is very creative and loves to read and write and draw. Her dream in life is to write and illustrate children's books, and I think she would do a wonderful job.

Jessi has an eight-year-old sister named Becca (short for Rebecca) and a baby brother named Squirt. Squirt? That's right. His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Jr., but he was so tiny when he was born that the nurses in the hospital nicknamed him Squirt.

Jessi also likes to read (she and Mal both love horse stories), but her real talent is quite different from Mallory's. Jessi wants to be a professional dancer and has studied ballet for years. It takes a lot of skill and hard work to get roles in major ballets and to perform in front of hundreds of people, but Jessi has what it takes. She doesn't even get stage fright. (I know I would faint dead away if I had to do something like that.) One other difference between Jessi and Mal - Jessi is black and Mal is white.

I have a lot more things I want to tell you about my friends (especially about my stepsister, Mary Anne, and the really romantic way our parents got together), but I will have to save that for later. Stay tuned! Chapter 2.

At eleven o'clock the following morning, Mary Anne tapped me on the shoulder.

"Dawn, wake up," she said urgently. "It's practically lunchtime!" I snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag and buried my face in the pillow. "Uh-huh," I mumbled. What was Mary Anne getting all steamed up about? Nobody bounces out of bed the morning after a sleepover, and besides, we hadn't turned out the lights till three A.M. No wonder I felt like a zombie.

But Mary Anne wouldn't give up. She sat down next to me. "I think we should all get up right this minute," she said firmly. "We've already wasted half the day!" "Quit talking," Stacey muttered from her sleeping bag. "Some people are trying to sleep." "I know you are," Mary Anne apologized.