"I haven't got the details sorted out yet, but it's either you become a cheerleader, or we go to South America as exchange students."

"Emily!"

"I'm telling you, it's got to be something drastic. I can't take another year of social obscurity. The only people who invite us to parties are boys who spend their summers at computer camp rewriting Dungeons & Dragons. Boys who are shorter than I am. Do you hear me, G? Boys who are shorter than I am. We can't go on like this. It has to be all or nothing."

So I agree to all or nothing --- to make Emily happy --- and because, even though her plans are crazy, I know she's right. Why shouldn't this be my year? After Emily goes home to get her clothes and books ready for the first day of school tomorrow, I stand looking around my room more critically than usual. It's the smallest bedroom in the house, and I've always loved its coziness and the way it looks out over trees and the front yard. A white chair sits near the window, where I like to curl up with a book. My old ballet slippers dangle from the bulletin board above my desk. It's still a pretty room, and a comfortable room, but suddenly it strikes me as being a little girl's room, not really mine.

"Dinner's ready!" my mother shouts up the stairs, and I hurry to pull my hair into a ponytail. My brother, Tom, pokes his head around the door. "Last one downstairs has to help clean up," he says.

Tom acts as though he's about six years old, but he's actually a year older than me --- fifteen months and three weeks older, to be precise. He and my sister, Sonia, are twins. Everyone says that only my parents would be crazy enough to have another baby just a year after having twins. Especially twins like Sonia and Tom, or Good and Evil, as they're known in the family. Sonia has always been the good girl, and Tom, bratty and boisterous. They haven't changed much, even though they're about to become seniors in high school.

"I already checked the roster on the fridge," I tell him. "It's your turn, idiot."

"On second thought, maybe you should skip dinner tonight." He looks me up and down, a mock frown on his face. "I mean, you've really piled on a lot of weight this summer." I make a face at him and give his arm a not-so-playful punch. "Very funny!" I say, brushing past him and heading for the stairs. He runs after me, grabbing me on the landing and trying to tickle me.

"Get off! You're so immature. I can't believe you're going to be a senior this year."

"Neither can I," he says, and pushes me out of the way so he can race to the table first. "Look out, everyone! Little Gracie's not so little anymore!" I stick my nose in the air and attempt to walk to the table in a dignified and elegant manner, as though I'm Audrey Hepburn and not "Little Gracie." Apart from stepping on a dog toy, which lets out a startling squeak, and tripping over the edge of the rug, I don't do too badly. Anyway, nobody would notice if I fell on my face: they're already sitting around the table, helping themselves to huge bowls of pasta and talking nonstop. I forget about trying to look elegant and rush over to my chair. Growing up and getting serious can wait until tomorrow, when I'm back in school.

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