"Huh?" "Emily Michelle and Karen and Andrew and I are making jewelry out of pasta." Kristy was referring to her adopted younger sister, Emily Michelle, and her stepsister and stepbrother, Karen and Andrew.

    "Like rigatoni and bow ties?" I asked.

    "Yeah. You know the names of all that stuff?" I shrugged. Mom had been a cook once.

    But she'd never let us play with the food! I settled down happily at the kitchen table, and before the afternoon was over we'd decked ourselves out in pasta necklaces and earrings and Karen had made a "hairpiece" out of spaghetti. Creative, but not practical.

    I didn't realize how late it was until I heard Kristy's mother calling, "Hey, guys, I'm home!" "Speaking of which," I said, jumping up.

    I said good-bye quickly and slipped out the kitchen door while Kristy's family converged on Mrs. Brewer.

    The lights were on in my house and music met my ears as I burst through the back door. Not Aretha. Anna practicing her violin.

    "Hey, I'm home!" I called.

    To my surprise, my mother entered the kitchen. She smiled. "I figured you were in the neighborhood." "Kristy's," I said.

    "Baby-sitters Club meeting?" Mom looked puzzled. "I thought those were held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. And aren't they usually at Claudia's?" My mom never forgets anything. This has made me an honest person. (The BSC is this club I just joined. But more about that later.) "Just visiting," I said. Impulsively, I hugged her.

    She looked surprised. And pleased.

    I pulled back quickly (you don't want to spoil your parental units), and asked, "Can we send out for pizza for dinner?" "Pizza?".

    I looked up and there was my sister. It wasn't like looking in a mirror exactly. Sort of like looking in a, well, blurred mirror. I have long, dark, curly hair. Anfta has short, dark, curly hair. We have pointed faces and brown eyes. We were both wearing jeans and big sweaters. I sported Timberland boots. Anna wore fuzzy slippers. She had her glasses on. I was wearing my contacts.