Hello, Mallory (2 page)

I saw Rachel cross her eyes at Jessica, tilt her head to the side, and stick her tongue out. If Jessica noticed, she didn't pay attention. She just kept looking straight ahead at Mrs. Frederickson.

Why, I wondered, did Rachel care about her desk so much? We only sit at these desks during homeroom. We don't even keep stuff in them, since other classes use them the rest of the day.

"I hope," Mrs. Frederickson went on, "that you will make Jessica feel welcome." Mrs. Frederickson sounded sincere, but I noticed that she didn't ask Jessica to stand up and introduce herself and tell us where she had come from. That was what she had done when Benny Ott was new. From day one, we'd known that Benny was from Detroit, and that his dad sold car parts and his mom was a secretary and Benny hoped to become a great actor.

Jessica Ramsey sat next to me, a mystery. I kept looking at her long legs. Maybe she was a dancer or a gymnast or something. Of course, I looked at her face, too. Jessica's eyes were huge and dark. Her lashes were so long I wondered if they were fake. Probably not, if her mother was anything like mine, and I decided that was a distinct possibility, since Jessica wore glasses and didn't have pierced ears, either.

I wondered what being the only black student in your grade would feel like. I guessed it would feel no different from being the only anything in your grade. I was the only one in our grade with seven brothers and sisters, including ten-year-old triplets. But I knew that wasn't quite the same. The kids couldn't tell that just by looking at me. But Jessica's

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

she's not a very good student. Which is unfortunate, since her big sister Janine is a genius. Claudia and Janine live with their parents and their grandmother, Mimi. The club meetings are always held in Claudia's room because she has a private phone and a private phone number. (Lucky duck.) I think that's also why she's the vice-president.

Mary Anne Spier is the club secretary. Mary Anne is petite and neat and precise. Her job is to keep the record book in order, and she's good at it. Mary Anne may not be the most fun of all the baby-sitters, but I think she's the nicest. She's sensitive. (Maybe she's shy, too. I'm not sure.) And she's patient. You know you could go to Mary Anne if you had a problem or needed help with your homework. One funny thing is that she's almost the exact opposite of Kristy — yet they're best friends. Kristy is loud and sometimes bossy, Mary Anne is quiet and never, ever bossy. Kristy likes to be the center of attention, Mary Anne once ran away from her own surprise birthday party. However, Mary Anne does look a little like Kristy, with her wavy brown hair and brown eyes, but she dresses better. She's not really trendy, but at least she puts on something besides the same jeans all the time. On the day of my first meeting, she was wearing a

baggy yellow sweater with a silver squiggle pin near the collar, a short skirt made out of sweat-shirt material, yellow tights, and ballet slippers. Not outrageous, though, and I know exactly why. Mary Anne lives with her dad and her kitten, Tigger. Her mom died a long, long time ago, and I think Mr. Spier is strict with Mary Anne sometimes. He even used to make her wear her hair in braids, but he's much better about things like that now.

The last club member is Dawn Schafer. She's also the newest. She and her mom and her younger brother Jeff moved to Connecticut less than a year ago. They moved because Dawn's parents got divorced. And they moved all the way from California! Poor Dawn. I'd hate it if I had to move to California, but Dawn seems pretty happy here. Her brother Jeff is a different story. I know because he's a friend of the triplets. They say he's been in lots of trouble in school lately, and that all he wants is to move back to his dad. That must be hard on Dawn — to think that her brother would rather live with her father than with her and Mrs. Schafer. Anyway, Dawn is the treasurer of the club. Stacey used to be treasurer, but when she moved away, Dawn took over for her. (I'm not sure what Dawn's job used to

be. Nothing too important, I guess. Maybe she was just another sitter.) Dawn has long, pale, pale, pale blonde hair. I've never seen such long hair. It goes way down her back. She wears kind of casual clothes, like baggy jeans with the cuffs rolled up, shirts with the tails out, and big belts. And get this — she lives in a house that might be haunted and has a secret passage!

That's everybody in the club. Four thirteen-year-old, eighth-grade girls. They were sprawled around Claudia's room by the time I — the lowly eleven-year-old, sixth-grade girl — arrived.

"Hi," I said nervously, giving a little wave.

"Hi, Mallory," Dawn replied warmly. (I know Dawn pretty well since she lives right near me.)

"Hi," said Kristy, Claudia, and Mary Anne.

They sounded friendly. Even so, I felt completely out of place.

"Have a seat," said Kristy.

I looked around to see where the other girls were sitting. Kristy, who was wearing this visor and had stuck a pencil over one ear, was perched on a director's chair. Dawn and Mary Anne were lounging on Claudia's bed, and Claudia was kneeling on the floor, frowning,

pawing through a pillowcase. Suddenly her frown turned to a smile and she yanked a handful of Tootsie Pops out of the pillowcase, then shoved it under her bed.

"Here they are!" she exclaimed.

She handed one to me as I sat gingerly on the floor. It was hard to find a comfortable position in my short jumper.

"Thanks," I said.

Claudia passed around the candy. Everyone took a lollipop except for Dawn, who tries to stick to health food.

"This is the first thing you should know about the club," Kristy said to me with a grin. "Our vice-president is a junk-food addict. She has stuff hidden all over her room. Lucky for us, she never minds sharing."

All I could do was smile. I couldn't think of a thing to say.

Kristy's grin faded. She rubbed her hands together in a businesslike way. "Well," she said, and I noticed that the others sat up a little straighter and paid attention. "We wanted you to come to the meeting today, Mallory, for two reasons. First, so you can see what our club is like and how it runs, and second, so we can decide, if, um, if . . ."