BSC10 Logan Likes Mary Anne (8 page)

"Aughh! Aughh! Au — Dawn?"

"Karen?"

"Oh, I thought you were Morbidda Destiny, creeping into our house to put a sp — "

"Karen, that is enough." It was Kristy's impatient voice. "I don't want to hear another word about poor old Mrs. Porter — or the ghost of Ben Brewer — tonight. And I mean it." Kristy

appeared in the hall, followed by Louie the collie, and Dawn waved to her mother who waved back, then started down the drive.

"Okay, okay." Karen flounced off.

"Sorry about that," said Kristy. She reached out to help pawn with her things. "I was in the kitchen. I could hear Karen screaming and I knew what she was doing, but I was too far away to stop her."

Dawn grinned. "That's okay." She held her hand out to Louie, who gave it a halfhearted lick.

"I don't think Louie's in top condition tonight," said Kristy. "He's getting old. Well, come on. We'll put your things upstairs. Then we'll have to keep an eye on the kids. After all, I'm baby-sitting."

"No problem. You know I like the kids."

Kristy and Dawn settled Andrew, Karen, and David Michael on the living room floor with the Memory set. Louie lay down nearby, his head resting mournfully on his paws. Then Kristy and Dawn retreated to a couch, where they sprawled out with a box of graham crackers — one of the few snack foods they'll both eat, since Kristy considers graham crackers semi-junk food and Dawn considers them semi-health food.

"I wonder what Mary Anne and Logan are doing right now/' said Kristy.

Dawn looked at her watch. "The movie's probably just beginning."

"Yeah. The theater's all dark. . . ."

"Maybe they're holding hands. . . ."

"Kristy!" shouted Karen. "David Michael cheated. He just peeked at one of the cards." Karen stood indignantly over the blue cards that were arranged facedown on the floor.

(I guess I should explain here how Memory is played. It's very simple. The game consists of a big stack of cards. On each is a picture — and each card has one, and only one, matching card. The cards are laid out facedown. The players take turns turning two cards over. If someone gets a pair, he or she goes again. When all the cards have been matched up, the winner is the one with the most pairs. Simple, right?)

Wrong!

"I did not cheat!" cried David Michael. "It's a rule. Each player gets one peeksie during a game."

"Show me where it says anything about a peeksie in the rules," answered Kristy, holding her hand out.

"Well, that's how we play at Linny's."

"Why don't you play by the rulebook?" suggested Kristy.

The game continued.

"Where were we?" Kristy asked Dawn. "Oh, yeah. In the dark theater."

"Holding hands — maybe," said Dawn. "I wonder if they'll, you know, kiss."

"Ew!" exclaimed Kristy, looking disgusted, but then she grew quiet. "You know," she said after several moments, "maybe they will. Mary Anne seems more serious about Logan than Claudia ever was about Trevor."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, she's not silly about him. Remember how Claudia used to giggle about Trevor all the time? It was as if she liked the idea of going out with him better than she liked Trevor himself."

"Karen! No fair! You didn't let me finish my turn!" Now Andrew was shrieking.

"Woof?" asked Louie from his spot on the floor.

"Hey, hey!" cried Kristy.

"I got a match and Karen took her turn anyway! No fair! No fair!"

"Andrew, I just forgot, okay? Finish your turn," said Karen.

"But you've already turned over two cards," said David Michael indignantly. "And An-

drew saw them. He knows where two more cards are. So nothing's fair now. The game's ruined."

"Excuse me/' said Kristy, "but did you all see which cards Karen turned over?"

"Yes," chorused the three kids.

"Then everything's fair. You all got an advantage. Think of it as a bonus or something. Andrew, finish your turn."

Kristy sighed. "You know," she said, picking at a tiny piece of lint on her sweater, "I was always the brave one and Mary Anne was always the scaredy-cat. Now everything's reversed. And suddenly she's ... I don't know . . . ahead of me, and I've been left behind."

Dawn nodded. "But you're still her friend, one of her very best friends."

"I know. I just have a feeling this is going to be an awful year. I moved away from you guys, and Mary Anne's moving away from me, if you know what I mean. And I haven't made any friends here in Watson's neighborhood. My brothers have, but I haven't." Kristy stretched her hand toward Louie, but he wouldn't come over to her for a pat. He looked exhausted.

"It might help," said Dawn carefully, "if you stopped thinking of it as Watson's neighborhood and started thinking of it as your own."

"Karen, you give those back!" This time, the indignant voice belonged to David Michael. "Kristy, she keeps hiding my pairs under the couch. Look!" David Michael pulled up the slipcover on the loveseat he and Karen were leaning against. He revealed a row of paired Memory cards.

"They're not his, they're mine!" squawked Karen.

"Are not!"

"Are, too!"

Kristy stood up. "The game is over," she whispered.

Karen and David Michael had to stop screaming in order to hear her.

"What?" they said.

"The game is over."

Kristy's patience had worn thin, although she kept her temper. A half an hour later, the three children were in bed, and Dawn and Kristy were seated side by side on 10181/8 big bed. Louie was sacked out at the end. The portable color TV that Watson had given Kristy was on, but neither Dawn nor Kristy was paying attention.

"Clothes?" Dawn was saying.

'Tapes, maybe," Kristy suggested. They were trying to decide what to get me for my birthday.

"It has to be something she wants, but that she won't be embarrassed to open in front of boys."

"I really wish Stacey hadn't decided on a boy/girl party," said Kristy woefully.

"How come?" asked Dawn.

"Well, who are you going to invite?"

Dawn's eyes widened. "Gosh, I hadn't thought about it."

"Even if I could think of a boy I wanted to go with, I wouldn't know how to ask him," confessed Kristy.

"You know who I like?" Dawn said con-spiratorially.

"Who?"

"Bruce Schermerhorn. He's in my math class. You know him?"

"I think so."

"He's really cute."

"I could ask Alan Gray," said Kristy. "He's a pest, but we always end up doing stuff together. At least I'd know what to expect from him ... I think."

Kristy and Dawn looked at each other, sighed, and leaned back against their pillows. Louie sighed, too. Eighth grade came complete with problems nobody had counted on.

Chapter 12.

"Ring, ring, ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mary Anne."

"Logan! Hi." (I was always surprised to hear his voice on the phone.)

"How're you doing?"

"Fine. How are you?" (It was four o'clock on a weekday afternoon. We'd just seen each other an hour earlier.)

"Fine. Guess what's on TV tonight."

"What?"

"Meatballs. Have you ever seen it? It's really funny."

"I don't think so. I mean, I don't think I've seen it."

"It's on at eight. Try to watch it."

"I will."

"So? What's going on?"

"I'm going to baby-sit for Jackie Rodowsky tomorrow. The last time I sat for him, he fell

out of a tree, fell down the front steps, and fell off the bed. But he didn't get hurt at all."

Logan laughed. "That kid should wear a crash helmet," he joked.

"And carry a first-aid kit," I added.

There was a pause. I had no idea how to fill the silence. Why did this always happen with Logan? There were hardly any pauses when I talked to the members of the Babysitters Club. I knew I was blushing and was glad Logan couldn't see me.

"Want me to tell you about Meatballs?" asked Logan.

"Sure," I replied, relieved. A movie plot could take awhile to explain.

And Logan took awhile. In fact, he took so long that we reached my phone conversation limit. My dad still has a few rules that he's strict about, and one of them is that no phone conversation can last longer than ten minutes. Even though Dad was at work, I felt I had to obey the rule. For one thing, what if he'd been trying to call me for the last ten minutes?

Logan reached a stopping place, and I knew I had to interrupt him.

"Urn, Logan?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"I hate to say this, but — "

"Your time's up?" he finished for me.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"That's okay. So are you going to watch Meatballs?"

"I'll try. If I get my homework done."

"Great. Well ... see you tomorrow,"

"See you tomorrow."

We hung up.

Whewwwww. I let out a long, slow breath. I love talking to Logan, but it makes me nervous.

Ring, ring.

Aughh! Dad had been trying to call! And I'd been on the phone for over twelve minutes.

"Hello?" I said guiltily. Excuses began flying around in my head: I'd needed a homework assignment explained. Someone else had needed homework explained. The phone had accidentally fallen off the hook.

"Hi, Mary Anne!" said a cheerful voice.

"Oh, Stacey. It's only you!" I exclaimed.

"Only me! Thanks a lot."

"No, you don't understand. I thought you were Dad. I mean, I thought you were going to be Dad. See, I've been on the phone for — Oh, never mind."

"More than ten minutes?" asked Stacey,

giggling. "Yeah." "Well, listen. I just wanted to make sure

you were coming to my party — and that you'd invited Logan."

"Well . . ." The thing is, I'd been putting that party off a little. I was nervous about asking my father if I could go to a boy/girl party, and even more nervous about inviting Logan. How do you go about inviting a boy to a party?

"Mary Anne?"

"What?"

"Are you coming and have you invited Logan?" she repeated.

"I don't know, and, no, I haven't."

"Mary A-anne."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Really I am." (I didn't know then why Stacey sounded so exasperated. I was the guest of honor at her party, but I had no idea.)

"Get off the phone and call Logan."

"I, um, have to call my father, too. I have to get permission to go to the party first."

"So call him, then call Logan."

"I've been on the phone since four."

"The rule is ten minutes per call. Just keep these calls short. It's the easiest rule in the world to get around. My mother put a five-minute limit on my calls to Laine Cummings in New York. So I just keep calling her back. If I call six times we can talk for half an hour."

I laughed. "All right. I'll call Dad."

"Call me back after you've talked to Logan."

"Okay. 'Bye."

I depressed the button on the phone, listened for the dial tone, and called my father at his office.

His secretary put me through right away.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

"Oh, hi, Mary Anne. I'm in the middle of something. Is this important?"

I was forced to talk fast. "Sort of," I replied. "Stacey's having a party at her house. It's for both boys and girls. We're supposed to ask guests. Can I go? And can I invite Logan?"

"Will Mr. and Mrs. McGill be at home during the party?"

"Yes," I said, even though I hadn't asked Stacey about that. I was sure they would be at home, though.

"What time is the party?"

"It starts at six."

"You may go if you'll be home by ten, and if you meet Logan at the party."

"Oh, thanks, Dad, thanks! I promise I'll be home by ten! I promise everything!"

I called Logan with a bit more enthusiasm than I'd felt before. I punched his phone number jauntily — K-L-five-one-zero-one-eight.

Logan answered right away.

"Hi," I said. "It's me again. Mary Anne Spier."

"I know your voice!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't apologize."

The call was already going badly. I wished I could rewind time and start over.

"Urn ..." I began.

"Hey," said Logan, more softly. "I'm really glad you called. You never call me. I always call you. I'm glad you felt, you know, comfortable enough to call."

(This was better, but still not the conversation I'd imagined.) "Well, I have to ask you something. Not a favor. I mean . . . Stacey's having a party. I wanted to know if you'd — you'd go with me. If you don't want to, that's okay," I rushed ahead. "I'll understand."

"Slow down, Mary Anne! Of course I want to go. When is it?"

I gave him the details.

"Great," he said. "I can't wait."

As long as I was doing so well, I decided to ask Logan one more question. "Have you thought anymore about joining the Baby-sitters Club?"

Pause. "Well, I said I didn't want to join."

"I know, but ..."

"I'll think about it some more, okay?"

"Okay." (After all, the rest of us hadn't decided that we wanted Logan to join.)

There was some muffled whispering at Lo-gan's end of the phone, and then he said, sounding highly annoyed, "Mary Anne, I have to get off the phone. I'm really sorry. My little sister has a call to make that she thinks is more important than this."

"It is!" cried a shrill voice.

I laughed. "I better get off, too," I told Logan.

So we hung up. But I had one more call to make. "Hi, Stacey?"

"Hi!" she said. "Did you call Logan already? Did you call your dad?"

"Yes and yes."

"And?"

"And I can come and Logan's coming, too."

"Oh, great! Awesome! Fabulous! I can't believe it!"

Stacey was so excited that her excitement was contagious. My heart began pounding, and I was grinning.

We hung up.

Ring, ring.

"Hello?"

"Mary Anne! What on earth have you been doing? What happened to your ten-minute

limit? I've been calling you forever!"

"Kristy?"

"You ought to get call-waiting or something. Did your dad take away your limit? . . . Oh, yeah, this is Kristy." (Click, click.) "Oh, hold on, Mary Anne. We've got another call coming in over here." (Kristy put me on hold for a few seconds.) "Mary Anne?" she said, when she was back on. "That was Stacey. I better talk to her. Call you later. 'Bye!"