“That’s hard,” said Kristy. “You must feel pretty bad. But you know what? These things have a way of resolving themselves.”
“What?” said Karen.
“I mean, they have a way of working themselves out.”
“Oh.” Karen stared off into space.
“Andrew, cut it out!” David Michael cried suddenly.
Kristy looked up in time to see Andrew dropping glitter into David Michael’s hair. David Michael was frantically brushing it out.
“You look cool!” Andrew was saying. “You’re a punk rocker!”
“Andrew,” said Kristy. “I don’t think David Michael likes what you’re doing. Besides — look at Emily. She could use some help.” Emily was having a little trouble with the glue. Somehow she had unscrewed the cap. Glue was everywhere, but mostly on her hands — and any place she touched. At the moment, she was brushing her hair out of her eyes, so her face and hair were gluey.
“Uh-oh,” muttered Kristy. This was a job for her, not for Andrew. “Bath time, Emily,” said Kristy.
“NO!” cried Emily.
“I am so sad,” said Karen.
“You’re a monkey-face, David Michael!” exclaimed Andrew.
“Shut up,” David Michael replied.
“In this house, we do not say ‘shut up,’ ” Kristy reminded her brother.
“But Andrew called me a monkey-face.”
“Okay, okay.” Kristy led Emily to the sink. “I’ll wash you off here for now,” she told her. “Andrew, please stop pestering your brother. David Michael, calm down. You’ve made five valentines already, and four of them are gorgeous, so keep going. Karen, why don’t you find a book and I’ll read to you guys in the kitchen while David Michael and Emily work on their cards.”
Karen heaved a great sigh as if Kristy had just asked her to clean the entire house. Then she stood up slowly, left the kitchen, and after ten minutes returned with a copy of The Dead Bird.
“Couldn’t you have found something more cheerful?” asked Kristy.
“No,” Karen answered, and sighed again.
Kristy almost smiled. The trials and tribulations of being seven, she thought. She began to read the story, and the rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully.
“Hello? I’m home!” I called.
It was a Friday night and I had just returned from a date with Logan. We had planned to eat dinner at a coffee shop downtown and then go to the movies. I had told Dad and Sharon that I would be home around eleven.
It was ten minutes of nine.
The date had not gone well.
When we reached the coffee shop, we were shown to a booth. (That was okay.) Then we had opened our menus and looked and looked. The menus were huge, but I chose my meal fairly quickly. I already knew what I wanted. I’d been wanting it all afternoon — a grilled, cheese-and-tomato sandwich and a vanilla milkshake.
Soon Logan closed his menu, and right away a waiter materialized. “What can I do for you?” he asked with a smile.
I opened my mouth to give my order, but before I could make a sound, Logan said, “I’ll have the cheeseburger deluxe and a large Coke, and my friend will have the same.”
I just looked at Logan. It’s true that I often order a cheeseburger and a Coke, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Too late. The waiter had scribbled down the order and left.
“Logan,” I said, “that, um, wasn’t what I wanted.”
“No? Sorry. Maybe we can get the waiter back.”
“That’s okay,” I mumbled, which got dinner off to an awkward start. We didn’t talk much during it.
But afterward, Logan perked up a little. He checked his watch, rubbed his hands together, and announced, “All right! Time to go see Halloween, Part Three.”
“Halloween?”
“Yeah. I know it’s been out awhile, but I haven’t seen it, and it’s playing right around the corner. I hope you haven’t seen it, Mary Anne.”
“No, I haven’t…. I thought we were going to see The Music Man. It’s playing at the oldies theater.”
“The Music Man is a kids’ movie,” Logan informed me.
“But the Halloween movies are so gross.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I — I guess I want to go home,” I replied.
Logan glared at me. Then he stood up and huffed off to the pay phone to call his parents and ask one of them to pick us up.
So we didn’t see a movie, and that was why I arrived home at ten to nine instead of at eleven. That was also why I wasn’t in a particularly good mood, and possibly why I was tired.
Logan was wearing me out.
Dad was the only one who answered when I announced that I had returned. “Mary Anne? Is that you? You’re home early. Come and talk to me. I’m in the den.”
I entered the den and flopped into an easy chair. “Where are Sharon and Dawn?” I asked. “Did they go out?”
“They just ran to the grocery. They’ll be back soon. Actually I’m glad you and I have a few moments alone together. I want to talk to you.”
Ordinarily those awful words (“I want to talk to you”) would have set me on edge right away. They never mean anything good. But my mind was still on my “date” with Logan. Nothing could be worse than this evening, I thought.
So I said simply, “Okay.”
Dad cleared his throat. (He’s not good at having talks.) “Well,” he began, “I think you and Logan are getting — I mean, that you and Logan are spending too much time together.”
I nodded.
“I’m not worried about you. I’m just concerned because you’re not around very often, and … I miss you.” (I knew those words were difficult for Dad to say.) “Also, you don’t seem terribly happy lately. And you got a C on your last English test. That’s not like you.”
“I know,” I said.
“So I think that you and Logan should cut back on the amount of time you spend together. I know this is hard for you to hear, but this is the way it’s going to be. If necessary, we can decide on exactly how many hours you and Logan may spend together every week.”
“No,” I said. “We don’t need to do that. I have been seeing too much of Logan. I’m tired. And I can’t believe I got a C on that test. You’re right, Dad.”
My father looked so taken aback that I laughed.
“I’m right?! When are parents ever right?” Dad teased me.
“Hardly ever,” I replied. “This is just one of those rare times.”
It was Dad’s turn to laugh.
“I’ll call Logan tonight and talk to him,” I told Dad. “I —”
But we heard the back door open then. Sharon and Dawn had come home. Our talk was over. I think Dad and I both felt relieved.
“Hey,” said Dawn when she saw me. “You’re home early. What happened?”
“Let’s go upstairs and talk,” I replied. (I caught Dad and Sharon raising their eyebrows at each other.)
Dawn followed me into my bedroom and sat in the armchair while I lay on my stomach on the bed.
“So what happened?” Dawn asked again.
“The date was a flop,” I said simply.
Dawn frowned.
I told her about ordering dinner and about the movie and everything. Then I went on. “When I came home, Dad wanted to have a talk with me.”
“Oh,” said Dawn. “Did Mom and I interrupt something?”
“Not really,” I replied. “We were about finished.”
“What did your dad want to talk to you about?”
“Logan and me. He thinks we’re spending too much time together.”
“Uh-oh. What’s he going to do?”
“Nothing. I agreed with him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Something’s wrong between Logan and me. I’m … just not always happy when I’m with him. I feel like he’s taking over my life. I feel like I’m not Mary Anne anymore. I’m not whole. Logan took part of me.”
“Did he take part of
you, or did you let him take part of you?” Dawn asked wisely.
She is so smart.
“I guess I let him,” I admitted. “I could have stood up for myself, but I didn’t. I mean, I usually don’t. Not really.”
“So what are you going to do about this?”
My answer was ready. “I’m going to call Logan — now — and tell him we have to cool things for awhile. I need the time apart from him to think. Then when we’ve gotten ourselves together, we can pick up our relationship again. It will be hard to do, but I think it will be good for us.”
“Whoa,” said Dawn. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Somehow I pictured you and Logan going steady through high school, then college, and finally getting married. After that, you’d have two children. Well, two or three. And —”
“Dawn!” I exclaimed. “Stop! First of all, I just want some time apart, not a break-up. Second, I’m only thirteen. And Logan is the first boy I’ve ever been serious about. Did you really think we were going to get married?”
“Yes. And I’d be your maid of honor … wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. Yes. I mean, I hadn’t exactly planned our wedding. I was planning on graduating from eighth grade first.”
Dawn smiled. Then she stood up. “I’ll leave you alone so you can call Logan,” she said. “Use the phone in Mom and your father’s room. For privacy. I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me.”
“Okay.” I felt shaky. Dawn left, and I went into Dad and Sharon’s room. I closed the door. Right away I thought, I could stop now if I wanted to. I don’t have to call Logan.
But I called him anyway. Without even hesitating. I just picked up the receiver and punched the buttons.
Logan answered the phone. “Hi!” he said, when he heard my voice. He probably thought I was calling to apologize. He sounded as if he would accept my apology.
“Logan,” I began, “this isn’t going to be easy for me to say, but I’m calling —”
“To apologize, right?”
“Well, not really,” I told him. “I’m calling because I think we need to cool our relationship a little. I think —”
Logan interrupted me again. “Cool our relationship? Why?”
“I’m going to tell you, if you’ll, um, if you’ll just let me talk.”
“All right, all right.”
“I think we’ve been seeing too much of each other,” I said. “I feel like you’re — you’re overtaking my life. You plan everything for us. You always want to be with me — and I do like being with you — but, I don’t know. I guess I feel like you don’t understand me very well anymore….” I trailed off.
There was a pause. Then Logan said, “Okay,” in an odd-sounding voice.
“Let’s try cooling things for a few weeks,” I went on, my voice beginning to quiver. (I just could not believe what I was doing.) “Then when we’ve had some time apart, we’ll pick things up again.”
“Okay.”
“Well … good-bye.”
“Good-bye. Good night,” said Logan.
I hung up the phone. Then I burst into tears.
I cried for a long time.
Clangs, bangs, shouts.
It was Monday. Another week at Stoneybrook Middle School was beginning. I wondered what would happen that day. It was the first time I’d have the chance to see Logan since I’d called him and told him we needed to cool our relationship.
Would he respect what I’d said? Or would he be waiting at my locker like he usually was, but this time full of apologies and questions?
I approached my locker hesitantly.
“Mary Anne?” asked Dawn, who was walking with me. “Are you okay? You look funny. Kind of faraway.”
“I was thinking about —” And at that moment I saw him.
Logan.
He was striding down the hall toward me. My locker was in between us. So he was going to wait for me after all.
Logan and I drew closer and closer and …
Logan walked right by Dawn and me. He didn’t smile or say hello. He didn’t even look at us. That was painful. But I told myself that what I was doing was meant to save our relationship.
“Mary Anne? Are you okay?” Dawn asked again.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Logan just ignored us.”
“I know. I guess I told him to.”
Dawn gave me a rueful smile, then left.
I spun the dial on my locker. I half expected to see a note stuck through the vent at the top of the door. Logan and I were always leaving notes for each other that way. Maybe Logan had gotten to school early, stuck a note in my locker, and then avoided looking at me because he knew he shouldn’t have done that.
But there was no note.
* * *
That morning we had an assembly. I think it was about our school’s dress code, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Logan was sitting one row in front of me and four seats down. I had a perfect view of him. And if he turned his head slightly to the left, he had a pretty good view of me, too.
But we only glanced at each other once. And that was just because somebody near us dropped a book on the floor. As we looked around to see what had happened, our eyes met. Then we both faced front again.
* * *
Needless to say, Logan didn’t sit with Dawn, Kristy, Stacey, Claudia, and me at lunch that day. (Jessi and Mal eat during another period, since they’re in a different grade.) Not that Logan always sits at our table, but he usually does. And for the past several weeks he hadn’t missed a day. He would move as close to me as he could get without actually sitting in my food. Sometimes he would feed me tidbits of his lunch, which was romantic, but embarrassing.
Anyway, the five of us sat at our usual table that Monday. When we had gotten settled, Kristy looked around. The first thing she said was, “Where’s Logan, Mary Anne? Shouldn’t he be in your lap?”
“He does not,” I replied testily, “sit in my lap.”
“Sorry,” said Kristy. “But really. Where is he? In the library or someplace?”
I glanced at Dawn. She was the only one who knew what was going on between Logan and me. I knew I would tell the rest of my friends soon, because we don’t usually keep secrets from each other. But I didn’t feel like telling them right now.
“Oh, Logan’s off with the guys,” I said to Kristy. “He needs guy-talk, a break from us girls.” I scanned the cafeteria. “See? There he is with Pete and Austin and Trevor and everyone.”
Nobody questioned this. We ate, we talked about how bad the food was, we wondered how Jenny Prezzioso would react when the baby was born. Then lunch was over.
Whew.
By the end of the day, I felt drained. But working out relationships, I told myself, is not easy.
* * *
As I approached my locker after the last bell that afternoon, I could see Logan waiting for me. At least, I assumed he was at my locker. It was hard to tell since both walls are lined with lockers.
I began to walk more slowly. What was I going to say to Logan? What was he going to say to me? Maybe he’d thought things over and had decided we should break up. Noooo. I didn’t want that.
When I finally reached my locker, feeling as if I were walking underwater, I dared to look into Logan’s eyes. He looked into mine.
“I just wanted to say hi,” he said seriously.
“Oh. Hi,” I replied.
“See ya,” said Logan, and walked off.
I stared after him. Well, that was better. We were speaking to each other, and I’d been expecting to do that. I do not consider the silent treatment to be a form of cooling off.
* * *
At home that night while Dawn and I were supposed to be doing our homework, I couldn’t concentrate on anything — except Logan. In my history book, William Penn’s face turned into Logan’s. The romance story in our English text turned into a story about Logan and me.
“This is ridiculous,” I said aloud.
??
?Mary Anne?” called Dawn from her room.
“Yeah? Can I come in? I need to talk.”
“Sure. I’m ready for a break.”
I walked down the hall, into Dawn’s room, and sat on her bed. Dawn turned around in her desk chair.
“It’s Logan, isn’t it.” she said. (It was a statement, not a question.)
I nodded.
“Are you having second thoughts about what you said to him?”
“I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, about us.”
“You did what you thought was right,” Dawn told me. “You stood up for yourself.”
“I guess …”
“Mary Anne,” said Dawn, “remember how you’ve been feeling lately — like Logan’s too pushy, always taking charge, not listening to you? You don’t want to go back to that again, do you?”
“No. But I miss Logan.”
“My mom missed my dad at first, right after the divorce. But she knew she’d done the right thing.”
“I wish,” I said, “that ‘cooling off’ didn’t hurt so much.”
Who could be a better expert on brothers and sisters than Mallory? She has more of them than any other member of the BSC. (Although Kristy comes close, having six.) So I was glad that Mal had at least one sitting job with Jenny before the baby was born.
Mrs. Prezzioso left Jenny and Mal at about four o’clock to go to a lecture on childbirth at the hospital. Just like when I had sat for Jenny, the first thing she did after her mother left was take Mal’s hand and say, “Want to come up to my room and see my new stuff from Mommy?”
More new stuff? I wondered as I read Mal’s notebook entry. Or was it the same new stuff she’d shown me?
Nope. It was more new stuff.
“See? Mommy got me this letters-and-numbers learning machine. Big girls have to start learning hard things because they’ll be going to school soon. And she got me a workbook. Oh, and this doll. I’ll tell you about the doll later. Want to see my new grown-up clothes?” Jenny went on.
“Sure,” replied Mallory.
Jenny opened her closet door and pushed some coat hangers to one side. “Here’s a new dress. Here’s another new dress. And here is a very grown-up outfit.” Jenny pointed to a pink plaid jumper over a white cotton blouse. “And this hat” (a pink straw hat with a white ribbon around it), “and these shoes” (pink ballet slippers), “go with the outfit.”