Kristy, wearing her typical little-girl clothes, her brown hair pulled back into a messy pony-tail, looked as troubled as Claudia did.

Mary Anne, her hair in braids as usual (her father makes her wear it that way), had put

onher wire-rimmed glasses to read the flier. When she was finished, she sighed, leaned back against the wall, and kicked off her penny loafers.

If I could have looked at myself, I would have seen a second trendy dresser and a fourth long face, more sophisticated than Kristy's or Mary Anne's, but not nearly as beautiful as Claudia's.

I examined a pink-painted nail while Kristy held the dreadful flier in her shaking hand.

"We're dead," she said to no one in particular. "The other baby-sitters are older than we are. They can stay out later than we can. We're doomed."

Not one of us disagreed with her.

In nervous desperation, Claudia took a shoe box from under her bed, reached in, and pulled out a roll of Life-Savers. Claudia is a junk-food addict (although she won't admit it) and she has candy and snacks stashed all around her bedroom, along with the Nancy Drew books her parents disapprove of because they think they're not "quality" reading. She was so upset about the Baby-sitters Agency that when she was passing around the Life-Savers, she forgot and offered me a piece. I'm diabetic and absolutely not allowed to eat extra sweets. I used to try to keep my illness a secret from people,

butClaudia, Mary Anne, and Kristy know about it, and they don't usually offer me candy.

"Who are Liz Lewis and Michelle Patterson?" asked Mary Anne, peering over to look at the flier again.

I shrugged. I barely knew the kids in my homeroom, let alone in any other grade.