Ann Martin - Hello, Mallory

coffee-colored skin was there for the world to see.

However, I didn't think nearly as much about Jessica's skin as I did about the fact that a new girl was finally in our class. I'd been waiting for this.

I needed a best friend.

I'm pretty friendly with most of the kids in our grade, but I don't have a best friend. For one thing, all the other girls already have best friends. There aren't any loose ones floating around. For another, I spend so much time with my brothers and sisters, and reading and writing, that I'd never needed a best friend. Lately, though, I'd decided it would be nice. However, my only shot was with a new kid, and the only new kid in our class had been yucky Benny Ott — until Jessica arrived.

Jessica caught me looking at her and gave me a shy smile. I smiled back, just as shyly. Was this the way things started between best friends? It wasn't a bad start; it just seemed like such a small step. . . .

The bell rang, and with clatters and crashes, my classmates tore out of the room. Benny went so fast he knocked his chair over and had to run back and stand it up again. By the time he had righted his chair, Jessica was gone. I'd been so busy watching Benny that I'd

missed seeing Jessica leave. And I was disap^ pointed. I'd been hoping I could help her find her next class. Someone else must have helped her.

My first class of the day was social studies and Jessica wasn't in it. Second period was English, and as I took my seat in the back of the room, I saw Jessica slip into a seat in the third row. I also saw Benny Ott shoot four rubber bands at the back of her head that period. Jessica made no sign of feeling them. And Mr. Williams, the teacher, pretended he didn't see, either.

Third period, gym — no Jessica.

Fourth period, math — no Jessica.

Fifth period was lunch. Since the hot lunch costs under a dollar, my parents make me and my brothers and sisters buy it every day (or else make our own). Mom says she has better things to do than pack eight lunches five mornings a week.

It was spaghetti day. I paid for my meal and carried my tray to a long table where a bunch of girls from my homeroom were sitting. Almost all of them looked up and said, "Hello, Mallory." That was nice, but what I was longing for was someone who would leap out of her chair squealing, "Oh! Oh, Mal! You'll never in a million years guess what happened!"

In other words, a best friend.

I sat down next to Rachel Robinson. Rachel and three others turned away and put their heads together, whispering. I was curious, but I was also starving. I opened my carton of milk.

"Mallory," whispered Rachel.

"What?" I stuffed half a meatball in my mouth.

"Can you believe that new girl?" Rachel sounded aghast.

"Who, Jessica Ramsey?" I replied.

"What do you mean 'who'? Of course I mean Jessica Ramsey. Who else?"

I shrugged. "What about her?"

"What about her?" cried Sally, this girl I've never really liked. "Are you blind? She's black."

I nearly choked. "So?"

"Well, she doesn't, you know, belong here."

"Where?" I challenged them. "She doesn't belong where?"

Sally shrugged uncomfortably. "Oh, I don't know. . . ."

"What are you so upset for, anyway?" Rachel asked me.

I tried to compose myself. I ate some spaghetti. "I am not upset," I said at last.

I wanted to change the subject, but before I could, Anita (Rachel's best friend) said, gig-

gling around a mouthful of bread, "Where do you think Jessica moved from — Africa?"

For some reason, the other girls thought this was hysterical.

"I bet her real name is Mobobwee or something," added Sally.

I wanted to get up and move, but I didn't. Anyway, the girls lost interest in Jessica. They started talking about TV shows and rock stars.

I didn't listen. I watched Jessica instead. She ate by herself, reading a book at the same time. I wondered what she was reading.

The day wore on.

Sixth period, French — no Jessica.

Seventh period, study hall — no Jessica.

Eight period, science. Jessica was in the class! There was even more hope for a best friend. But by then I was too excited to think about Jessica. School was nearly over. It was almost time for my first meeting of the Baby-sitters Club!

Chapter 2.

Wow. I didn't realize Kristy could see how nervous I was. I had no idea I'd be overdressed, either. You should have seen what the other girls had on. I'll describe the kind of clothes they wear when I introduce them to you. But first I better explain about that diary Kristy was writing in. It's the Baby-sitters Club notebook, and it's very important.

The girls really run the club professionally. When I think of clubs, I think of fooling around in the kitchen making fudge and giggling and gossiping and maybe collecting dues so you have enough money for a slumber party or something. The girls in the Baby-sitters Club do some stuff like that — and more. Babysitting is a business for them. The dues they collect are for expenses, such as paying Kristy's big brother Charlie to drive her to and from meetings, since she moved across town last summer. And they have lots of clients who call on them when they need sitters, and the club members earn pretty much money.

Anyway, back to the notebook. Kristy says every sitter has to write up each job she goes on. They write about what happened, any problems, and stuff the rest of us might need to know, like if one of the kids has an allergy or is afraid of the dark or spiders or loud

noises. Then the notebook — which is very fat — is passed around so the others can read about all the sitting jobs. Sometimes they write about important club meetings, too.

The girls also keep a record book where they write down information about their clients, keep track of the money they earn, and, of course, schedule their sitting appointments.

Kristy Thomas is the president of the club, since the club was her idea. She seemed to be the most casually dressed of all the girls at the meeting. She was wearing faded jeans, sneakers, a pale pink turtleneck, and a dark pink sweater. I've seen her wear clothes like that an awful lot. Kristy is really nice. Whenever she used to baby-sit for me, I could count on fun. But sometimes she's a little bossy. Not bossy in a baby way like my sister Margo, but bossy in an adult way. Twice during the meeting she interrupted what was going on so she could straighten problems out. She didn't listen to what anyone else had to say. She just jumped in — boom — and said, "No more discussion.-This is what we're going to do." Wow. Just so you know, Kristy has brown hair and brown eyes. And I guess her mother doesn't let her wear makeup because her face is always plain. Apart from her mom, she has a (rich) stepfather, a younger brother named David Mi-21

chael, two big brothers, Sam and Charlie, and a little stepsister and stepbrother, Karen and Andrew. Also a dog, Shannon, and a cat, Boo-Boo. They live in her stepfather's big house, which Kristy says is a mansion.

The vice-president of the club is Claudia Kishi. Claudia is really something. She's absolutely gorgeous. I'd give anything to be as pretty as she is. Her parents are originally from Japan and she has these black, black eyes, silky black, black hair, and a complexion as perfectly smooth as cream. I guess her parents aren't as strict as Kristy's mother and stepfather because Claudia has pierced ears, uses makeup, and wears clothes my mother wouldn't even let me look at in stores, much less buy. Things like short, tight pants with little ballet slippers, or torn T-shirts decorated with sequins, or overalls and high-topped sneakers. And her jewelry! She has a bracelet that looks like a coiled snake, and earrings that are a dog for one ear and a bone for the other, and I don't know what else. Claudia is a fun baby-sitter, too, because she loves art. Sometimes when Claudia would come over, she'd help my brothers and sisters and me make murals or holiday decorations or even papier-mache. I don't know too much else about Claudia except that she likes to read mysteries, and someone once said