Mary Anne vs. Logan

  This book

  is in honor

  of the birth of

  Olivia Connett Swomley

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Letter from Ann M. Martin

  About the Author

  Scrapbook

  Also Available

  Copyright

  “How do I look?” I asked.

  “Look? You look just fine,” replied Dawn. “Anyway, you’re only going to baby-sit for Jenny. What’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t know. I guess Mrs. Prezzioso is the big deal. You know how she’s always dressed. And how she always dresses Jenny.”

  “Yeah. They look like contestants in a mother-daughter beauty pageant.”

  Dawn and I giggled. Dawn is not only one of my two best friends; she’s my stepsister. It was a Friday night and I was getting ready to sit for Jenny. Dawn was perched on a chair in my room.

  “You know what?” I went on. “Mrs. P. has only gotten worse since she found out she’s going to have another baby.”

  “I can’t believe that we know what the baby is going to be, and the rest of the BSC members don’t. They don’t even want to know, Mary Anne.”

  “They want to be surprised, that’s all,” I said.

  (BSC stands for the Baby-sitters Club. Dawn and I and a bunch of our friends belong to it. I’ll tell you about it later.)

  Who am I? I’m Mary Anne Spier. I live in an old (very old) farmhouse with Dawn, my father, and Dawn’s mother. In case you’re wondering, Dawn and I have been friends longer than we’ve been stepsisters. After our parents got married, Dad and I and my kitten, Tigger, moved into Dawn’s house. That’s because it’s bigger than my old house was. Since we’re pretty new at being a family, I call Dawn’s mother Sharon, and Dawn calls my father Richard. That feels more comfortable than Mom and Dad. All things considered, our family is coming together pretty well. We have our tough times (what family doesn’t?), but the good times are getting to be more frequent, and they last longer.

  Let’s see. I have brown hair, brown eyes, and a boyfriend! His name is Logan Bruno. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe I have a boyfriend. That’s for two reasons: 1. I’m really shy. I bet I’m the shyest eighth-grader at Stoneybrook Middle School. 2. For awhile now, Logan and I haven’t been getting along all that well. We’ve hit a few rough patches. There was the time when Dawn, Claudia (another BSC member), and four kids went on a sailing trip and got stranded on a little island off the coast. (It’s a long story.) Practically everyone here in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, was looking for them or worrying about them. (I was a worrier. I wanted to be a searcher, but I have very fair skin, so I can’t stay out in the sun too long.) Anyway, right before the sailing accident, Logan and I had a fight. It was a big one, but it was over the smallest thing. I learned something from that fight. I learned that Logan and I don’t always trust each other. And I learned that Logan can’t always be counted on in a crisis. He wasn’t there when I needed him the most. I thought he could put our fight aside while our friends were lost at sea. But he couldn’t, or didn’t, until just before the end of the crisis.

  We did make up after that, but it hasn’t been our only fight. We had a pretty good one during another crisis — when Tigger was missing. Tigger is little! He’s just a bundle of soft, gray, tiger-striped fur and a lot of purrs. He could have been in big trouble (although it turned out he wasn’t). So while he was missing, I was scared to death — and Logan and I weren’t getting along.

  Logan and I have had some other difficult times, too. This is hard to believe, since everything was so great when we first met and realized we liked each other. For one thing, I couldn’t fathom that a boy even liked me. I was shy, mousy Mary Anne. And Logan was this drop-dead handsome guy. He looks exactly like my favorite star, Cam Geary. Plus, he’s from Louisville, Kentucky, and he has a wonderful Southern drawl. Everyone loves the way he sounds. Yet Logan chose me for his girlfriend. We’ve given each other gifts, gone to school dances together, and been out on dates. Plus, Logan was with me the day I chose Tigger at the animal shelter.

  So Logan and I started off with a great relationship. But lately he’s been a little pushy. At least, that’s the way it seems to me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m falling out of love with Logan, but I don’t think so. Not over a few tiffs and misunderstandings.

  “So, anyway,” I said to my stepsister, “do I look nice enough for Her Highness?”

  “Like a real princess,” Dawn answered, even though I was just wearing jeans and a new baggy sweater. “Go find your crown and you’ll be all set.”

  I laughed. Then I checked my watch. “I better get going,” I said. “I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes.”

  The phone rang then, and Dawn said, “I’ll get it. You find your crown.”

  I was looking for my shoes when Dawn called, “Mary Anne! It’s for you!”

  “Okay!” I called back. I dashed into our parents’ bedroom, where Dawn was standing, holding the phone out to me. “Thanks,” I told her. I took the receiver, and Dawn immediately left the room. That was a sure sign that Logan was on the other end of the line. If any of our other friends had called, Dawn would have hung around to see what was going on. But she respects my privacy where Logan and I are concerned.

  “Hello?” I said.

  Sure enough, the voice that returned my hello belonged to Logan. “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Oh, hi,” I said. “I can only talk for a couple of minutes. I’m on my way to the Prezziosos’ to sit for Jenny.”

  “Can I talk you into going to a movie instead?”

  “Right now? No. I really can’t.” I hated to disappoint Logan, but I had a responsibility as a baby-sitter.

  “Aw, come on. You and I are a couple, Mary Anne,” said Logan.

  “I know we’re a couple,” I replied, “but … um …” I tried to explain what I was thinking. I couldn’t. I have a little trouble expressing myself. And when I do show that I’m angry or upset, I usually start to cry — which was not going to help this situation.

  When I didn’t finish my sentence, Logan said, “Well, is Dawn free to sit tonight?”

  “You mean, to take over at the Prezziosos’ so I can go out with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Logan, I can’t send Dawn on my sitting job,” I said, my voice trembling.

  “You mean you won’t come to the movies with me?” Logan sounded confused.

  “Well … no.”

  “Okay,” said Logan uncertainly.

  “I have to go,” I said in a rush. “I’m about to be late. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  We hung up the phone then, and I had to force myself not to cry. I concentrated on Jenny. That was my job. I could think about Logan some other time.

  I left the house in a hurry then, and ran all the way to the Prezziosos’. (They live nearby, and it was still light out.) I made it just in time.

  Mr. and Mrs. P. left pretty quickly, so soon I was alone with Jenny. When her parents had left, Jenny held out her wrist and said, “Look. Mommy bought me a watch! I can’t tell time yet, but a watch is a very grown-up thing to have. That’s what Mommy said. She bought me some other stuff, too. Want to see?”

  “Sure,” I replied.
r />   I followed Jenny upstairs to her bedroom. Jenny, as usual, was dressed to the nines. That’s what my friend Kristy’s stepfather would say, meaning that Jenny was very dressed up (even though it was just a regular old day). Mrs. P. loves to dress up Jenny and herself. That’s what Dawn meant when she said they look like contestants in a mother-daughter beauty contest. They look like that most of the time.

  Jenny took my hand and pulled me into her room. “Here,” she said, heading for her dresser. “Mommy got me more grown-up stuff. Stick-on earrings, and look — sneakers with laces. Mommy says big girls learn how to tie their shoes.”

  “Wow, that’s great, Jenny!” I exclaimed, looking at her old sneakers, which fastened with Velcro straps and were pretty ratty compared to her new red Keds.

  The phone rang then, so I said, “Come on, Jenny. Race you to the telephone.”

  Giggling, we ran down to the kitchen.

  Guess who was on the phone. Logan.

  “Logan, I’m — I’m busy now,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  We hung up, and I felt stung, but Jenny was my responsibility, so we went back to her room.

  “Your mom sure has been buying you a lot of stuff, Jen,” I ventured. I was making every effort not to think about Logan.

  “Yup. It’s big-girl stuff. Mommy says the baby won’t know how to do anything for itself.” (Apparently even Jenny didn’t know whether she would have a little sister or a little brother.) “So Mommy will be busy, and I’ll have to be a big girl.”

  Since Jenny did not look too happy about this, I said, “You sure are lucky — new shoes, earrings — and all because of the baby.”

  “Yeah. Mommy wants to make sure I’ll like that baby.”

  Whoa. Had Jenny just said what I thought she said? It sounded as if she knew she was being bribed to get along with the new baby. Mrs. P. certainly had an interesting method for dealing with sibling rivalry.

  Jenny showed me two more things that her mother had bought her. Then I helped her to brush her teeth, wash her face, and finally climb into bed. After just a few pages of Babar, Jenny’s eyes began to close, so we said good night. I turned out her light, and then I tiptoed out of her room, leaving the door open a crack.

  The phone rang immediately. I raced downstairs and picked it up.

  It was guess who.

  “Jenny asleep yet?” asked Logan.

  “Yup. She fell asleep pretty quickly.”

  “Oh. Well, just checking to see how the job is going.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. I knew I should be professional and say, “Hello, Prezziosos’ residence.” Instead I said, “Hi, Logan.”

  “You knew it was me?” He sounded surprised.

  “I had this feeling.”

  “Jenny still asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “So. How about a date? There must be some evening when you’re not baby-sitting.”

  I hesitated.

  “Just tell me when you’re free,” said Logan.

  I told him I’d be free the next night.

  “Great. We’ll do movies and a pizza. It’s all set.”

  All set by Logan, I couldn’t help thinking. What had happened to me in our relationship?

  I must be the world’s biggest wimp. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to a movie with Logan. It was that I felt I had let myself get talked into it. Logan was trying so hard. Why did he need to do that? Had he always been like that? I tried to remember. I didn’t think so. Then again, when two people are having problems, it’s hard to tell who has changed. Usually, I supposed, they both have. So how had I changed? Was I more independent than I used to be? Was I sending Logan mixed signals? Maybe. I wanted to be with him — but I didn’t want to lose myself in him.

  There was just one thing to do — call a friend and talk about it. As a baby-sitter, I knew the call would have to be short. (It’s not a good idea to tie up a client’s phone line with personal calls. The parents might be trying to call in to check on things.) So I would have to choose just the right person to talk to — someone who knows about boys. I consider all the girls in the Baby-sitters Club my friends, and Dawn and Kristy Thomas are my best friends. However, Claudia Kishi and Stacey McGill definitely know the most about boys. I tried Stacey first. Her line was busy. So I called Claudia on her private phone.

  I complained to her for about five minutes.

  Claud listened patiently, but she didn’t have any suggestions. That was okay. I had wanted a solution, but I knew the problem was mine, and I would have to work it out myself. Anyway, I was glad about one thing. I was glad that I had so many friends — so many people I could call on. And that’s due mostly to the Baby-sitters Club, which is more of a business than a club. My friends and I baby-sit for children in our neighborhoods. We earn a lot of money doing this and we’re good at it. I guess it’s because we all love children so much. We’re the kind of sitters who really get involved with the children we care for.

  Let me tell you about my friends, the BSC members. I’ll start with Kristy Thomas, for two reasons. One, she is my oldest friend in the world. (I mean, we’re the same age, but we’ve known each other since we were born.) Two, Kristy had the idea for the BSC, organized it, and got it running. That’s just the way Kristy is. She’s a doer, an organizer, and she’s got a mind full of ideas — which she usually carries out. She’s also got a big mouth. I don’t mean that she blabs on and on and won’t stop talking. I mean that she doesn’t always think before she speaks. If something pops into her head, she says it. Occasionally, she hurts people’s feelings, although she never intends to.

  Kristy is part of the most unusual family I know. She used to be part of a regular family — a mother, a father, two older brothers, and a baby brother named David Michael. Then, shortly after David Michael was born, Mr. Thomas walked out on his family. He just left them. Kristy and I lived next door to each other then (and across the street from Claudia), so I know how hard this was for her family. But Mrs. Thomas pulled things together quickly. She got a good job and she managed to hold her family together. Then, when Kristy and I were twelve and in seventh grade, Mrs. Thomas began to be serious about Watson Brewer, this man she’d been going out with. Watson (most of us refer to him as Watson because that’s what Kristy calls him) just happens to be a millionaire. He lives in a mansion across town in a much wealthier neighborhood than the one Kristy and I lived in. And at the end of school last year, he and Mrs. Thomas decided to get married. So they did!

  Watson moved the Thomases out of their cramped house and into his huge one. You’d think Kristy would have just died to be living in a mansion with bedrooms galore and a rich stepfather, but she wasn’t too happy at first. I think that was just because there were too many changes in her life. Not only did she acquire a stepfather and move out of the house in which she’d grown up, but she acquired some other family members, too. First of all, Watson has two kids — Karen, who’s seven, and Andrew, who’s almost five. Kristy didn’t want to like them, but she couldn’t help it. They’re too adorable. Now she’s wild about them. And she even complains that she doesn’t see them enough. (Karen and Andrew only live with their father every other weekend and for two weeks during the summer.) Then, after Watson and Kristy’s mother had been married for awhile, they adopted a two-year-old girl from Vietnam. They named her Emily Michelle. And talk about adorable, well, Emily is right up there with Karen and Andrew. When Emily was adopted, another member joined the Thomas/Brewer household. That was Nannie, Kristy’s grandmother. She moved in to help with Emily while Watson and Kristy’s mom are at work, and to help run the household. Everyone just loves Nannie. She is very special.

  Back to Kristy. Kristy has brown hair and brown eyes. She and I look sort of alike. We’re both short, although I’m taller than Kristy. And Kristy doesn’t need to wear a bra yet, which bothers her. She’s a tomboy, and she started a softball team fo
r kids in the neighborhood. The name of her team is Kristy’s Krushers. Kristy has a boyfriend, too, although she won’t admit it often. He’s Bart, the coach of a rival softball team!

  It’s hard to tell you about Kristy without telling you about me. I guess that’s because she’s one of my best friends, and because we have a lot in common. In other ways, we’re very different, though. (Maybe there’s something to the saying that opposites attract.) Anyway, you already know a little about me: that I have brown hair and eyes, and I’m short; that I have a stepmother, and a stepsister named Dawn, who’s my other best friend; and that I have a kitten named Tigger, and a boyfriend named Logan with whom I’m having some problems right now.

  Here are some other things about me. I’m extremely shy and sensitive (that’s where Kristy and I are opposites), I’m romantic, and I cry easily. My dad raised me since the time my mother died. That was when I was quite young. Dad was very strict. He made up lots of rules, such as I was not allowed to ride my bike downtown, even when all of my friends were able to. He even picked out my clothes and made me wear my hair in braids. I looked like a real baby at the beginning of seventh grade. Kristy didn’t mind that. She isn’t — and never has been — interested in clothes. (She just wears jeans and stuff.) But I was interested in dressing more stylishly (or at least not like a first-grader), and I wanted my hair out of braids. Well, sometime during seventh grade, I was able to prove to my dad that I wasn’t a baby, and he started letting up on me. He loosened the rules, allowed me to wear my hair down, and even allowed me to pick out my own clothes. (I am not allowed to get my ears pierced, though. But that’s okay. I’m not sure I want holes punched through my ears. Besides, Kristy doesn’t have pierced ears, either.)

  So that’s me.

  Now, just like it was hard to tell you about Kristy without telling you about me, it’s hard to tell you about me without telling you about Dawn, since she’s my stepsister. For starters, Dawn is gorgeous. She has long, pale blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes. Dawn is our California girl. She grew up outside of L.A., and lived there until her parents got divorced. After the divorce, Mrs. Schafer (Dawn’s mother) moved Dawn and Dawn’s younger brother, Jeff, all the way to Stoneybrook. That’s because Mrs. Schafer grew up here and her parents still live here. Of course, the move was difficult for Dawn and Jeff. They switched from a warm climate to a cold one (cold in the winter, anyway), and they had to leave all their friends behind. Dawn adjusted to this pretty well, but Jeff never did, and after awhile, he moved back to California to live with Mr. Schafer. This is not an ideal situation, but it’s the way things are. Dawn and Jeff frequently fly across country to visit the other half of their family.