"What's wrong, Kristy?" said Watson. "I thought you liked Chinese food."

"It's okay, I guess. But I don't feel like it tonight."

Watson looked slightly hurt.

When the table was set, we sat down and everyone began helping themselves to Moo Shoo pork and chicken with cashews and beef with snow peas and the other things Watson had brought. I was starving, and I love Chinese food, especially chicken with cashews, but I wouldn't let Watson know. Since there was no chili, I made myself a peanut b.u.t.ter and strawberry jam sandwich. I slapped it on my plate and then began nibbling it into the shape of a snowman. I was just about to bite off the snowman's head when Watson said, "So, how are things, Kristy?"

"Fine."

"School okay?"

"Yup."

"What are you doing that's new or interesting?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Watson, the Math Club won its third math meet yesterday," Sam said, coming to the rescue. He hates when I bug Watson.

Watson needed a second to collect himself. He doesn't understand me. "What, Sam? . . . Oh, your third meet? That's great!"

"And guess what!" exclaimed David Michael. "Mom's going to get me a new G.I. Joe - one of the good guys."

"That sounds pretty exciting," said Watson. "I don't know much about G.I. Joe dolls, though. I don't think Andrew plays with them."

"Oh, he probably does," I said airily, "and you just don't know it because you're not around enough. All the boys play with them." I glanced at Mom. I could practically see smoke coming from her ears as she let me know that I was getting into trouble, but I went on anyway. "Besides, they're action toys, not dolls. Right, David Michael?"

David Michael beamed. "Right, Kristy."

"And Karen probably has a Rainbow Brite doll. Ever heard of those?"

At that moment, Mom slammed her fork onto her plate. She stood up so fast she almost tipped her chair over. "Kristy, apologize to Watson this instant, and then go to your room."

"But," I said politely, "I haven't finished this delicious dinner yet."

"Kristin Amanda Thomas! You are asking for it, young lady!"

I got to my feet. "I'm sorry, Watson," I mumbled. I walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. When I was halfway up, I yelled over my shoulder, "I'm sorry you're such a terrible father!" Then I ran to my room and slammed the door.

See, the thing is, Watson is actually a very good father. Karen and Andrew and their mother live right here in Stoneybrook, and Watson has the kids at his house each time he's supposed to. Plus, he celebrates every other holiday with them, and never forgets the ones in-between. (My dad forgets holidays all the time.) But I still don't like Watson horning in on our family. He doesn't belong with us.

Mom and Watson left without saying goodbye to me.

I felt really guilty about what I'd done.

Before I went to sleep I left a note on Mom's bed. It said: Dear Mom, I'm sorry I was so rude. I guess I haven't learned much about decorum yet. I hope you had fun on your date. I love you. Kristy.

When I woke up the next morning, I found a note to me from Mom. It said: Dear Kristy, I love you, too. Mom.

On Wednesday afternoon, I raced home from school and made a frantic search of the front yard for our copy of the Stoneybrook News. I found it under a peony bush in the garden. I threw my things on the ground, sat down right in the middle of the yard, and leafed through the paper until I found the advertising section. And sure enough, the fifth ad from the bottom in the third column was ours. This is what it looked like: THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB.

Need a baby-sitter? Make one call, reach four sitters. Call KL 5-3231 Mon., Wed., Fri., 5:30-6:00 We had wanted to include more information in the ad, like the other phone numbers, but when we called the newspaper, we found out they charged you per line to run an ad. Our little ad was already pretty expensive, and we'd had to use our entire first week's club dues to pay for it. Still, the ad was awfully exciting. It was fun being in the newspaper.

"Hey, Kristy, what are you doing?" Claudia came running across our lawn, her knapsack jouncing against her back.

"Look!" I exclaimed. "Here it is! Our ad!"

"Ooh, let me see!"

Claudia dropped to her knees beside me, and I jabbed at the ad.

"Wow! Now if we can just finish handing around those fliers today," she said, "we might actually get some calls on Friday."

"I know!" I felt like squealing and jumping up and down.

"Let's get Mary Anne to help us."

"Okay," I said. "And Stacey."

"No, she's busy this afternoon. She told me so in school today."

"What's she doing?"

"Don't know. Come on. Are you ready?"

"Let me just put my books inside," I said, "and see if Kathy got here yet. She's babysitting for David Michael today."

Kathy and David Michael were playing Can-dyland on the back porch, so I grabbed the last of the fliers from my desk and ran outside to Claudia. "My mom Xeroxed five more yesterday. That's all I have left," 1 said.

"I've got six more."

We found Mary Anne, who also had six left, and we took off on our bicycles for Quentin Court, which is a few streets away from Sta-cey's house. There we put the last of the fliers in mailboxes.

"Done!" I said to Claudia and Mary Anne.

They grinned at me.

"Now I guess we just sit back and wait for calls."

"Right."

"Right."

Two days later, the members of the Babysitters Club gathered eagerly in Claudia's bedroom. Even though the fliers said for clients to call us between 5:30 and 6:00, we all managed to show up early. I was the first person there. I knocked on Claudia's bedroom door, which now had an official-looking sign on it reading: THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB.

Hours: Mon., Wed., Fri. 5:30 - 6:00 "Come in!" called Claudia. It was only 4:30 when I entered her room, but I found her sitting cross-legged on the bed with the phone in her lap, one hand clutching the receiver.

"The phone's not going to run away, you know," I greeted her.

Claudia grinned sheepishly. "I know. I'm just so excited."

Actually, I was, too. "So am I!" I squealed suddenly. I dashed across the room and jumped on her bed. "I've been waiting all week for today to come. What do you think will happen? Oh, this has just got to work. I know we'll have some customers. We'll have customers, won't we?" I grabbed the phone from Claudia and held it in ray lap.

A knock came at the door. It couldn't be a customer . . . could it?

Claudia and I glanced at each other.

"It's probably Mary Anne," I said.

"Oh, right," Claudia answered. "Come in!"

The door opened.

It was Janine.

My stomach dropped down around my knees.

Janine cleared her throat. "Ahem," she said. "I've been studying your sign from out here in the hall, and I'm wondering if possibly you've made a mistake."

I leaped up and ran over to the sign. I couldn't see a thing wrong with it. Baby-sitters was spelled cprrectly; Claudia had remembered the double "T." She'd gotten all the abbreviations right, too.

I put my hands on my hips. "What?" 1 asked.

"Well," began Janine primly, "I'm not entirely sure that you have made a mistake. I'm trying to decide whether you need an apostrophe after the word baby-sitters. You see, without an apostrophe, the word is simply plural, meaning the club consisting of the several or many babysitters. The apostrophe after the "S" would make the word possessive, meaning the club belonging to the several or many baby-sitters. Now either way could be right, but I'm not sure whether - "

"h.e.l.lo, everybody!" Stacey's voice rang up through the stairwell like the welcome sound of a boat's horn on a foggy night.

"Saved!" I said under my breath. "Hi, Stace!"

Stacey ran up the stairs and I spirited her into Claudia's bedroom and closed the door behind us, leaving Janine out in the hall puzzling over the Apostrophe Mystery.

Mary Anne arrived a few minutes later, luckily without running into Janine.

It was 5:05.

The four of us sat on Claudia's bed.

n.o.body said a word.

At 5:10, Claudia got up, took a shoe box labeled SNEAKERS out of her closet, opened it, and handed around some jawbreakers. As usual, Stacey refused.

At 5:25,1 began staring at my watch, following the minute hand around and around - 5:26, 5:27, 5:28, 5:29.

At exactly 5:30 the phone rang.

I screamed.

"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" cried Mary Anne.

Claudia spit out her jawbreaker. "I'll answer it, I'll answer it," she shrieked. She jerked up the receiver and said politely, "Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club."

Then she made a face and handed me the phone. "Kristy, it's your mother."

I spit out my jawbreaker, too. "Mo-om/" I exclaimed as soon as I got on the phone. "These are our business hours. You're not supposed to -What? You do? Oh." I calmed down. "Please hold for a moment."

I put my hand over the receiver. "Mom needs a sitter for David Michael!" I cried. "Kathy can't come next Wednesday."

Everyone suppressed shrieks.

"I've got our appointment book right here," said Claudia. "Now let's see. Mary Anne, you have to go to the dentist that day, and I have art cla.s.s. That leaves you" - Claudia pointed to me - "and Stacey."

What should we do? "Just another sec, Mom," I said.

I hadn't really thought about what to do if several of us were available for the same job.

"Well ..." I began.

"He's your brother," Stacey said. "You should get the job."

"But if you took it, you'd get to know some other people in the neighborhood. You'd probably meet Sam and Charlie - they're my big brothers."

"Brothers?" Stacey's eyes lit up. Boys! "But what are you going to do while 1 baby-sit? Hang around and watch?"

"Well, I hope I'll have another job," I said huffily. "You take the job, Stacey. I don't want my first Baby-sitters Club client to be my own mother."

"Okay, if you're sure," Stacey said slowly. Then she grinned. "Thanks!"

"No problem," I said. I took my hand off of the receiver. "Mom, Stacey will baby-sit for David Michael on Wednesday. The usual time, right? . . . Okay. Hey, where are you calling from anyway? . . . Oh, the office."

Claudia elbowed me. "Quit tying up the line. Someone else might be trying to get through."

I nodded. "Mom, I have to get off. I'll see you in a little while. . . . Okay. . . . Okay. . . . Bye." I hung up.

The phone rang again immediately. Claudia gave me a look that said, I told you so.

"Can I answer it?" Mary Anne asked.

"Sure," I said.

Mary Anne picked up the phone. "Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club," she said. There was a long pause. "I think you have the wrong number. There's no Jim Bartolini here." She hung up.

At 5:42 the phone rang for a third time. We all looked at each other. "You get it, Kristy," Mary Anne said. "You're the president."

"Okay. . . . h.e.l.lo. Baby-sitters Club. . . . Yes . . . yes. Just a moment, please.".I put my hand over the mouthpiece. "Do any of you know a Mrs. McKeever? She lives on Quentin Court."

The girls shook their heads.

"What's she got?" asked Claudia.