"Wow," I said as Mom sank into a chair. "How many interviews did you go on today?" "Two," she replied.

    "Just two?" I would have guessed about ten.

    "Just two. But I've lined up several more." I nodded. "Mom, you don't have to rush, you know. I mean, about getting a job. Dad's paying alimony and child support . . . isn't he?" "Oh, of course," Mom assured me. "But it isn't the same. Now his salary is paying for a house and an apartment. The money doesn't go as far these days. So I do need a job." "Yeah." I was carefully putting together a snack. I always have to plan my meals and snacks carefully. This is because I'm a diabetic. Diabetes is a disease in which this gland in your body, the pancreas, stops producing the proper amount of something called insulin. Your body needs insulin to break down sugar. If this system goes out of whack, you can get really sick. (Well, I can. I'm a brittle diabetic, which means I have a severe form of the disease.) Here's how I control my diabetes: by sticking to a strict no-sugar diet, and by giving myself injections of insulin. I know that's gross, but it has to be done.

    "What are your plans this afternoon, honey?" Mom asked.

    "I'm sitting at the Pikes' with Mal, but just for an hour. Then we're going to the BSC meeting. I'll be home by six-fifteen." "Okay. Where's Dee going?" (Dee is Mrs. Pike, although that isn't her real first name. That's my mom's nickname for her. She and Mrs. Pike have gotten to be very close friends.) "A school meeting," I replied. "The elementary school. Something about Claire's kindergarten class, I think." "Mm." Mom nodded absently.

    "Why don't you take a nap?" I suggested. "You look exhausted. I can start dinner. And I can finish it after the meeting. We can eat a little late tonight. I'll bring another snack to the meeting." (I also have to be careful about when I eat.) "Well, I think I'll just take you up on your offer," said Mom.