Chapter 1.

"Kristy! Hey, Kristy!" I called.

It was Monday afternoon, almost five-thirty, and time for a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. I had just stepped onto my front porch. At the house next door, I could see Kristy Thomas stepping onto her front porch.

Kristy is the president of the Baby-sitters Club. She's also my best friend in the whole world. We've grown up together. And since my mother died when I was really little, leaving just Dad and me, Kristy's been like my sister, and Mrs. Thomas is like my mother. (Kristy's parents got divorced a few years ago and her dad walked out, but my father has not been like a father to Kristy. He's not warm and open like Mrs. Thomas.)

"Hi, Mary Anne," Kristy answered.

We ran across our front lawns, crunching

through the remains of a January snow, and met between our houses. Then we crossed the street to Claudia Kishi's house. Claudia is the vice-president of the club. We hold our meetings at her house because she has a telephone in her bedroom.

The Baby-sitters Club is really more of a business than a club. This is how it works: On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, the club meets from five-thirty untilsix o'clock . Our clients call us on Claudia's line to tell us when they'll need baby-sitters. Then one of us takes the job. It's simple — but brilliant. (It was Kristy's idea.) The great thing is that with four of us taking the calls, anyone who needs a sitter is bound to find one.

Of course, our club isn't perfect. For instance, the members — Kristy, Claudia, me (I'm the secretary), and Stacey McGill, who's our treasurer — are only twelve years old. The latest we can stay out isten o'clock . In fact, only Stacey is actually allowed out that late, although recently sometimes Claudia has been allowed to sit until ten, too. Kristy and I have to be home by nine-thirty on the weekends, andnine o'clock on weeknights. That nearly cost us our club. Recently, another bunch of girls copied us and set up a business called the