Dear Dad and Tigger,

New York is absolutely fabulous. Can we move here? (Just kidding.) We met a true and honest celebrity - two of them actually. Mr. and Mrs. Walker. They’re artists. Mr. Walker has had his own show, and Mrs. Walker illustrates books. Now it’s time to get ready for Stacey’s party. Don’t worry - Mr. and Mrs. McGill will both be at home. Tomorrow we take the kids to the American Museum of Natural History and Central Park. I know everything there is to know about the museum and the park, and I can’t wait to see them again.

Love,
Mary Anne

“Okay,” I told my friends, “it’s five o’clock. I invited people for seven, so we have two hours to get ready. We have to fix the food, choose tapes to play, and get dressed. Oh, Laine is coming by in an hour to help us, so maybe we should get dressed first.”

“Laine’s coming over early?” asked Claudia.

Laine, if you remember, is my best friend here in New York. Claudia was my best friend in Connecticut. Each girl knew about the other, but they hadn’t met. That night would be the first time. I was certain they would get along, since I like them both so much, although when I thought about it, I realized that they didn’t have much in common. Laine is super-smart, and Claudia may be smart, but she doesn’t do well in school. Claudia likes arts and crafts, Laine likes foreign movies; Claudia reads Nancy Drew mysteries, Laine reads French poetry; Claudia likes junk food, Laine likes gourmet food. (She has even eaten pigeon.) Still, since opposites attract, I just knew Laine and Claudia would hit it off. Besides, they did have one thing in common — me!

“Yes,” I answered Claudia. “I wanted you and Laine to get to know each other before the party starts. Plus, Laine always comes over to help whenever anything is going on here.”

Claudia just nodded.

“Well, let’s get dressed,” said Mary Anne.

“Does this mean I have to stand up?” asked Dawn. We were sprawled around in the living room and Dawn looked beat.

“Yup,” Mary Anne told her. “Now Kristy, Claudia, and Dawn, you have to wear what Stacey says. So do I.”

“What Stacey says?” I repeated as we walked down the hallway to my room. “What do you mean? You guys can wear whatever you want.”

“Oh, no,” said Mary Anne. “No way. This is New York. I want us to dress New York so we fit in.”

“Maybe we should wear our Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts,” said Kristy. “They’re as New York as you can get.”

Mary Anne scowled at her. Then she added, “You especially, Kristy. You wear what Stacey says.”

“I hope Stacey says jeans, a sweater, a turtleneck, and sneakers, because that’s all I brought. And who made you Fashion Boss of the World, anyway?”

“What if I say to wear a housecoat, platform shoes, and a beanie with a pinwheel on top?” I asked.

“Stacey, this is serious,” wailed Mary Anne. “We’ve got to look our best. We’re going to meet all your friends. Aren’t you worried about what we wear?”

“No,” I replied. “But if it’ll make you feel better, Mary Anne, I’ll tell you what to wear. Let’s see what you brought.” (I glanced at Claudia’s boxcar. She had just opened it and about twenty outfits had fallen out.) “And if there’s anything you need to borrow,” I added, “I’m sure Claudia will have it.”

“Stacey,” Claudia began coldly, “for your in —”

“Hey, hey,” said Dawn. “Everyone, calm down. We’re wasting time. Just concentrate on getting dressed.”

A half hour later we were ready. Well, maybe not ready, but at least we were dressed. Mary Anne looked at all of us (even me) critically.

“Kristy, borrow an outfit from Claudia, okay?” she said.

Kristy was wearing a white turtleneck with little red and blue hearts all over it, a red sweater, jeans, and sneakers.

“Claudia and I are not exactly the same size,” said Kristy, who is not only quite short, but completely flat-chested. “Now get off my case.”

“Okay, okay…. Stacey, is it all right if Kristy wears that tonight?”

“Of course,” I said.

Mary Anne continued her inspection. Claudia had on the black outfit we’d talked about over the phone so long ago. And she was wearing her hair simply, for once — brushed back from her face and held in place by a white beaded headband. Dawn had chosen an oversized peach-colored sweater-dress, lacy white stockings, and black ballet slippers. I was wearing a short, short yellow dress that flared out just above my hips, white stockings, yellow push-down socks, and these new shoes that my parents hate. It was an interesting outfit, one I’d thought up while we were dressing.

And what was Mary Anne, the fashion plate, wearing? Well, here’s a clue. She looked like she’d walked right out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. I had chosen a bright, big-patterned sweater and a pair of black pants for her. She’d looked at them, shaken her head, replaced them in her suitcase, and put on this other outfit — a ruffly white blouse, a long paisley skirt, and these little brown boots. It was very mature and attractive but, well, Mary Anne was the only one of my friends who, when dressed up, actually looked like she came from Connecticut. We could tell, though, that the clothes were new and that she really wanted to wear them, so no one said anything to her, despite the grief she’d given us earlier.

“Well,” I said brightly. “Everyone passes my inspection. Come on. We better get busy in the kitchen. Except for you, Claud. Why don’t you stay here and look through my tapes. Choose a stack to play tonight and put them in the living room by the tape deck, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Claudia. I could tell she was pleased that I’d given her such responsibility.

Mary Anne, Dawn, and Kristy followed me into the kitchen. We began opening bags of chips and pretzels, and packages of cheese and candy, and arranging everything in bowls or on plates.

“Mom?” I called. (Mom was home, but she was at her desk in the den, staying clear of things.)

“Yes?” I heard her reply.

“Did you remind Dad about the heros?”

“I called him this afternoon. He’ll bring them when he comes home tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!”

The party wasn’t actually a dinner party, but I knew most of my friends wouldn’t have eaten and would be hungry — especially the boys.

“Stacey?” said Mary Anne. “What do you do at a New York party?”

I tried not to look exasperated. “Exactly what you do at a Connecticut party,” I told her, and was relieved to hear the doorbell. “That must be Laine!” I cried.

Ordinarily the doormen buzz us when someone comes over, and then we go to our intercom and ask who’s downstairs. But Laine comes over so often that the doormen know her and let her upstairs without calling us.

I dashed to the hallway. “Laine?” I said before opening the door.

“It’s me!”

I opened the door. “Hi! Oh, I’m glad you’re here! Come on in and meet my friends.”

The six of us gathered in the living room and I introduced everyone. I saved Claudia for last. “And this,” I said, “is Claudia Kishi. Laine, Claudia. Claudia, Laine.”

Laine was taking off her coat and my friends were watching her with interest. I knew they were wondering what she was wearing…. Well, even I was surprised.

Laine was beyond chic. She had chosen a short black dress, black stockings, and simple black flats. On one wrist was a single silver bangle bracelet. On her dress was one of those silver squiggle pins. Her fluffy brown hair was newly permed and perfectly cut. She looked wonderful — at least nineteen. My friends were speechless. Claudia looked good, too, but well, maybe only fifteen — tops. Her hair was long and flowing, and her outfit was wild, but not particularly adult.

“So you’re the members of the Baby-sitters Club,” said Laine, smiling. “Stacey’s told me a lot about you.”

“She’s told us about you, too,” replied Claudia, and added, “You’re the one she had the big fight with after she found out she was diabetic, right?”

That was true — Laine and I had had a fight — but what was Claudia doing? I looked at her, aghast.

“And you’re the one she had the fight with when your little club almost broke up,” Laine countered.

I groaned. This was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. The party looked like it was going to be a big mistake.