"Monkey's liver!" cried Max, giggling. "Hey, did you ever hear that gross song? It goes, 'Great big globs of greasy, grimy - ' "

"Max!" Amanda shrieked. "Don't sing that! It makes me sick. . .. I'll race you to the chalk."

Amanda and Max and I were halfway through our game of Snail, and the Sn.o.bs had run indoors for drinks of water, when a white van drove up the Delaneys' driveway. Large red letters on the sides spelled PIZZA EXPRESS. The driver jumped out and approached me with a flat white box.

"You Kristy Thomas?" he asked. "Here's your pizza."

"My pizza?"

"Yeah. You and your friend called about half an hour ago. The gigglers?"

It took a second for this to sink in. Then, in a flash, I realized what had happened. "Oh," I said, with a little laugh. "You want Kristy Thomas. Right. Well, I'm - I'm just the babysitter. Genevieve. Kristy is next door. With her, um, giggly friend. You'll recognize her right away. She's got long, wavy blonde hair. She wants the pizza over there. Really," I added when the deliveryman looked at me skeptically.

"You're sure about this?" he said as he climbed back into the truck.

"Positive," I replied, glad the Sn.o.bs hadn't heard me telling lies.

I watched the truck back down the driveway, turn into the street, and head for the Kilbournes'. I ran to the front of the Delaneys' house for a better view, and hid behind a shrub just in time to see Shannon and Tiffany answer their door, argue with the poor pizza guy, and then crossly shove some money into his hand as he gave them the pizza.

The next thing I knew, Shannon and Tiffany were marching angrily over to the Delaneys', followed by Astrid of Grenville.

"Uh-oh," I said. I dashed around the corner of the house and into the garage, where I b.u.mped into Amanda and Max. "Indoors," I hissed, and pushed them inside before they could say a word. As soon as the door was shut behind us, we heard a ding-dong.

"I'll get it!" cried Max.

"No, don't - "I started to say, but it was too late.

Max was racing to the front door. He threw it open. Shannon, Tiffany, and Astrid were standing on the Delaneys' steps. Shannon was holding a wobbly PIZZA EXPRESS box. Grease stains were appearing on the sides.

"You owe me money," was the first thing Shannon said.

"Who, me?" I asked innocently.

"Yes, you. The deliveryman said someone named Genevieve sent him over to our house with a pizza for Kristy Thomas, and then he described me."

"So why do I owe you money?" I asked. "My name isn't Genevieve."

"Why?" Shannon spluttered. "You know very well why. You told him your name was Genevieve and my name was ..."

"But you started this whole thing. You ordered the pizza. I just outsmarted you," I said maddeningly.

Shannon narrowed her eyes. "You horned in on my baby-sitting territory. My sister and I used to be the only sitters around here." She opened the box and began to ease a gooey slice away from the rest of the pie. "How'd you like pizza in your face?"

"No! Don't throw it!" shrieked Amanda. "Mommy and Daddy just had the hall painted. And the fish fountain cost two thousand dollars!"

Shannon hesitated long enough for me to say, "You throw that at me and I'll throw it back at Astrid. You'll have a pepperoni mountain dog."

Shannon dropped the slice back into the box. She pressed her lips together. Was she crying?

No, a giggle escaped. Then Tiffany stifled a laugh. Then Amanda and Max and I let out giggles of relief.

"A pepperoni mountain dog!" exclaimed Shannon.

We all laughed more loudly.

"Why don't you guys come in?" I said.

So the Kilbournes, including Astrid of Gren-ville, came inside. The five of us sat around the kitchen table and picked at the pizza. Astrid ate all the pieces of pepperoni.

Shannon asked me about the Baby-sitters Club and I told her a little about it. She seemed impressed.

When Max demanded, "Get me a napkin, Shannie," all she had to do was raise an eyebrow at him and he got it himself. Then I was impressed. Before the Kilbournes left, I offered to pay for half of the pizza. Shannon grinned. I felt as if, maybe, we were on the way to being friends.

Chapter 11.

I know this sounds mean, but I'm glad it was Claudia, not I, who had to sit for the Chicken Pox Brigade. There are eight Pike kids, including the triplets, and five of them were sick. I think I'd rather have sat for the Sn.o.bs than for kids with chicken pox. (Well, the Sn.o.bs don't seem so bad anymore.) Anyway, I did feel sorry for Claudia and Mallory. (Mallory, the oldest Pike, often helps us as a sort of junior baby-sitter when one of us has a job with her family.) They really earned their money that night. They weren't in any danger of catching the chicken pox themselves since they'd both had it, but there were five itchy, unhappy children to take care of, plus Nicky and Vanessa, who seemed unusually cranky.

Mr. and Mrs. Pike had decided to go out to dinner and a movie simply to escape from the chicken pox for awhile. They'd been nursing sick kids all week. Now the five patients were just enough better to be bored. They weren't running fevers, but they were still uncomfortable and had to stay in bed. Mr. and Mrs. Pike needed a break.

"I've set some trays out," Mrs. Pike told Claudia before she and Mr. Pike left. "I'm afraid you'll have to give the triplets, Margo, and Claire their dinners in bed. Either you or Mallory can eat upstairs with them. The other one can eat downstairs with Nicky and Vanessa."

"Do we have to keep Nicky and Vanessa away from the kids upstairs?" Claudia asked. "I mean, so they don't catch the chicken pox?"

"Oh, no. Don't worry about that," Mrs. Pike replied. "They've been exposed all week. Now, try not to let the sick kids scratch. They're pretty good about it, except for Margo, who scratches every time she thinks we're not looking. Poor thing, she's got a worse case than the others. If any of them complains of a headache, you can give them one children's Tylenol. It's in the medicine cabinet on the very top shelf. Otherwise, just try to keep the kids happy. The portable TV is in the boys' room right now. At seven o'clock, it's the girls' turn to watch it. Mallory can help you with anything else. And the phone numbers are in their usual spot. Okay?"

"Okay," replied Claudia, who was beginning to feel a little apprehensive. Eight Pike kids were one thing; five cases of chicken pox were another.

As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Pike left, Claudia heard a strange little sound, sort of a tinkling noise. "What's that?" she asked Mallory.

She and Mallory were setting up dinner trays for the sick kids.

"What's what?" replied Mallory.

Tinkle-tinkle.

"That," said Claudia.

"Uh-oh! It's the triplets. Mom gave them a bell to ring when they need something. She gave Margo and Claire a triangle."

Ding-ding.

"That wouldn't be the triangle, would it?" asked Claudia.

"Yup," said Mallory, rolling her eyes.

"Well, let's go."

Claudia and Mallory dashed upstairs. Mallory looked in on her brothers while Claudia went to the girls' room. "Hi, you two," she greeted Claire and Margo.

Claire, who is five, put a pitiful expression on her face. "Hi," she said soberly.

"What's the matter?" Claudia asked, concerned.

"We're sick," Claire told her.

"I know. It's too bad."

It really was too bad. Claudia told me that the girls looked pathetic. Their faces and hands - any part of them that wasn't covered by their nightgowns - were a sea of spots. Some of Margo's looked awfully red, and Claudia suspected that she'd been scratching them.

"We itch," added Margo, who's seven. "Mommy gave us a bath and she put starch in the water to take away the itching, but now it's back again." Her hand drifted toward a spot on her neck, and she touched it so carefully that Claudia couldn't tell whether she was scratching.

"I'm really sorry," said Claudia sympathetically, "but we're going to have fun tonight, and that will take your minds off the itching. In a little while, I'm going to bring your supper upstairs. First I'll eat dinner with you, and then I'll have dessert in the triplets' room - but I'll bring the TV in here. How does that sound?"

"Good," replied Margo and Claire together.

"And now," said Claudia, holding an imaginary microphone to her lips, "for your entertainment pleasure . . . ta-dah! The Kid-Kit!"

Claudia had brought her Kid-Kit to the Pikes' and left it outside the doorway to the girls' room. She carried it in with a flourish and set it on the table between their beds.

"Yea!" cried Claire.

"You guys can play with this stuff until I bring the TV in. Then you can trade, and give the Kid-Kit to the boys, okay?"

"Okay," said Margo, forgetting to scratch as she pawed through the box.

Meanwhile, Mallory had returned to the kitchen and was setting the trays and the table. Further downstairs, in the rec room, eight-year-old Nicky and nine-year-old Vanessa were playing - supposedly. But as Claudia joined Mallory again, she heard Vanessa shriek, "Stop that! You stop that, Nicholas Pike! . . . STOP IT!"

"Whoa," exclaimed Claudia. "I'll go see what that's all about. You finish the trays, okay, Mallory?" She ran downstairs without waiting for a reply. "Hey! What are you two doing?" she cried.

Nicky and Vanessa were sitting on the floor surrounded by Legos. An entire town of Lego buildings had sprung up between them. Claudia couldn't see anything broken or wrong.

"Vanessa?" she asked.

"Nicky gave me the Bizzer Sign!" Vanessa sounded practically hysterical.

"She gave it to me first," grumbled Nicky. "She started it. Honest." He drew a hand wearily across his eyes.

"Did not!" said Vanessa.

"Did, too!"

"Okay, okay," Claudia cut in. Claudia has no patience for the Bizzer sign, which is a hand signal the Pike kids invented purely to annoy each other. "Look, it's almost time for supper. Come on upstairs. You're going to eat in the kitchen with Mallory. A nice, quiet meal," she added.

"I'm not hungry," Vanessa whined.

"Me, neither," said Nicky.

"Not even for cream cheese and jelly sandwiches?"

"Well, maybe ..." Vanessa conceded.

Mallory, Nicky, and Vanessa did eat a quiet, almost somber, meal in the kitchen. Upstairs, Claudia tried to eat with the chicken pox crew, but she hardly had time. No sooner had she settled onto the end of Claire's bed with her tray than she heard tinkle-tinkle.

"Coming!" she called, and ran into the triplets' room. "What is it?" she asked the three spotty faces.

"Could we have soda instead of milk?" asked Adam. "Please? It feels so nice and cold."

"Sure," Claudia replied, feeling unduly sorry for them.

She was racing back upstairs with the soda when ding-ding sounded from the girls' room. "Coming!" she called. She handed out the sodas rather hastily and dashed back to Claire and Margo.

"Claudia, there's a speck in my cream cheese," said Margo. "I think it's a bug. If I eat it, I'll throw up."

Claudia examined the speck. "Just a crumb," she p.r.o.nounced, but to be on the safe side, she picked it out of the cream cheese.

"Could I have some more milk, please?" Claire asked then.

Tinkle-tinkle. The boys were ready for second helpings of fruit salad, and Byron, who loves to eat, wanted dessert, too.

Claudia brought all the food upstairs, then realized it was seven o'clock and time to switch the TV for the Kid-Kit. She did so, wolfed down part of her sandwich, then began carrying the trays to the kitchen so she could help Mallory clean up.

The bell and the triangle were quiet for a full five minutes before Jordan asked for an aspirin for his headache. It was during the next lull that Claudia peered down into the rec room to see what Vanessa and Nicky were up to. She saw them both sitting in front of the TV, their shirts pulled up, examining their tummies and chests. "What are you doing?" she called.

"Counting," Nicky called back.

"Counting what?"

"Our spots."

"Uh-oh," said Claudia, and she dashed downstairs to find that, just as she'd feared, poor Mr. and Mrs. Pike had two new chicken pox patients.

"Bedtime, you guys," she announced, and neither one objected.

Chapter 12.

Louie was in bad shape. Everyone could see it. Even David Michael. He didn't understand it, but he could see it.