I am obsessed with art. Painting, sculpture, drawing, jewelry-making — I like to create in any medium. Including clothes. (This makes me Chief Oddball in my family. For my parents, tasseled loafers are daring.) Janine shook her head, chuckling. "Was that why you wore your jacket to breakfast this morning? To cover that up so we wouldn't have indigestion?" "I was cold." (Well, it was sort of true.) Janine just shook her head and walked to her room.

Later I could hear the usual furious clacking of the computer keyboard coming from Janine's room. I tried to slip quietly by her open door, to avoid another comment.

"Hm. Frankenstein's jumpsuit," I heard as I entered my bedroom.

Janine is disgustingly smart. Even if she lent me, like, one quarter of her IQ points, I'd be brilliant and she'd still have enough left over to be a genius. She is a high school sophomore, but she takes college courses. And her taste in fashion runs to white blouses and gray pleated skirts.

Needless to say, my parents think she's perfect.

I've tried to be a high achiever like her. But 1) I can't spell, 2) computers hate me (and vice versa), and 3) my eyes cross when I read anything more complicated than a Nancy Drew mystery.

Where did my artistic side come from? Prob- ably my mom's mom, Mimi. She understood me better than anyone else. Mimi's English wasn't great (she immigrated to this country from Japan), but it didn't matter. We were on the same wavelength. She lived with us my whole life and I loved her soooo much. When she died I was devastated.

Actually, one other person inherited the crazy, creative genes in my family—my aunt Peaches, Mimi's other daughter. (Her real name is Miyoshi. Her husband, my uncle Russ, gave her the nickname. Why? No one knows.) When Peaches was pregnant, she and Russ bought a house in Stoneybrook. While they waited for the occupants to move out, they lived with us for a month. It was a wild and mostly fun time, but it ended sadly. You see, Peaches had a miscarriage.