Ann Martin - Logan Likes Mary Anne !

"You know what?" said Kristy. "I say we cancel today's club meeting and go over to Mary Anne's instead. We can pay Janine a couple of dollars to answer the phone for us. Then we can help you get ready for the dance, Mary Anne. I'll walk home with you guys, call Charlie, and tell him where I am so he can pick me up later."

That was just what we did. We gathered in my bedroom. Dawn inspected my outfit and ended up ironing the skirt and shirt for me.

Kristy looked at the soles of my new shoes. "Aughh!" she cried. "Mary Anne, scuff up the bottoms of those or you'll slip at the dance and fall flat on your face."

"Oh, no," I moaned. "Something else to worry about."

Stacey showed me a few easy dance steps.

Claudia gave me some tips on Logan. Things like, "Let him hold doors open for you and get you punch. If he brings you a corsage, wear it no matter what color it is."

"What if if s dead?" asked Kristy, giggling.

Claudia scowled at her.

At 5:30, everyone left. My friends were all going to the dance, too. Kristy and Dawn were going stag, Stacey was going with Howie Johnson, and Claudia was going with Austin Bentley, whom she'd gone out with a few times before. I was glad they would all be there.

My dad volunteered to pick up everyone in the club and take us to the dance. Logan and I had arranged to meet at the entrance to the gym at 7:30. Dad dropped the five of us off at school at precisely 7:25.1 leaned over and kissed his cheek. " 'Bye," I said. "Thanks for driving us."

"Have fun, honey."

My friends and I got out of the car with a chorus of "thank you's."

"Remember," I called to Dad as I shut the door, "Mr. McGill will drive us home. The dance is over at nine-thirty."

As I watched the taillights of the car disappear in the parking lot, part of me wished I were with my father, heading to our safe

home where I could be alone and not have to worry about people and dancing and spilling punch and slipping in my new shoes. But the rest of me was excited.

I joined my friends and we walked to the gym in a noisy bunch. We were all smoothing our hair and picking lint from our clothes and fussing with our jewelry. I thought we made a pretty good-looking group. Claudia was wearing short, tight-fitting black pants and a big white shirt that said BE-BOP all over it in between pictures of rock and roll dancers. She had fixed a floppy blue bow in her hair. Stacey was wearing a white T-shirt under a hot pink jumpsuit. Dawn and Kristy looked more casual. Dawn was wearing a green and white oversized sweater and stretchy green pants. Kristy was wearing a white turtleneck shirt under a pink sweater with jeans. We just couldn't seem to get her out of blue jeans.

That evening while I was getting dressed, I'd imagined how Logan and I would meet at the door. I'd spot him from across the hallway and walk over to him ever so casually.

"Hi, Logan," I'd say softly.

"Hi, Mary Anne," he'd reply, and he'd hold out a sweet-smelling pink carnation.

As soon as we entered the hall, my dream was shattered. It was a mob scene, wall-to-

wall laughing, screaming kids. I stood on my tiptoes and looked all around. After a few seconds I spotted Logan. He was across the hall. Twenty thousand people were between us.

"Logan!" I called. I jumped up and down and waved my hands, but since I'm short, it didn't do any good.

"I see Logan," I told my friends. "I better try to get to him."

"Okay," replied Kristy. "See you later."

"Good luck!" added Dawn excitedly.

I elbowed and squeezed and shoved my way through the kids. When I finally reached Logan, I felt as if I'd just fought a battle. I was hot and sweaty, and the dance hadn't even started.

"Hi — oof— hi, Logan," I said as someone slammed into me from behind.

"Hi," replied Logan. Then, "Here," he said ruefully, handing me a smushed orange flower. "Sorry about that. I dropped it and someone stepped on it."

The flower (whatever it was) looked absolutely horrible against my pink sweater, but I pinned it on anyway.

"Thanks," I said.

Logan smiled. "Mah play-sure," he drawled. "Come on. Let's dance."

He led me inside. The only really good thing

I can say about the gymnasium was that it was less crowded than the hallway. I couldn't appreciate the decorations or the refreshments table or the band. I was too busy worrying.

There I was — actually at the dance. In a few minutes, the entire school would see that I had no business being there.

Luckily, Logan wasn't too keen on the idea of dancing until a lot of other people were dancing, so we stood by the food for a long time. We drank three cups of punch each, and ate handfuls of cookies. I couldn't think of a thing to say to Logan. He kept asking me questions, and I kept answering them . . . and then the conversation would lag. I sneaked a peek at my watch. Eight-fifteen.

Finally Logan took my hand. "Want to dance?" he asked.

I nodded. What could I say? No? After all, we were there to dance.

By that time, the gym was so crowded that there was barely room to move around. I tried to remember the steps Stacey had shown me. Then I tried to imitate Logan.

Imitating Logan turned out to be fun. He smiled when he realized what I was doing, and began fooling around, dancing sort of the way I imagined King Kong would. I kept up with him. Logan started to laugh. He waved

his hands in the air. I waved mine. He stomped his feet and spun in a circle. I stomped my feet and spun in a circle. Logan was laughing hysterically, and I was feeling pretty good myself. He put his arm across my shoulder and kicked his legs Rockette-style. I kicked my legs.

One shoe flew off.

It sailed through the air, narrowly missing Mr. Kingbridge, our vice-principal. It hit a wall and fell to the floor. Mr. Kingbridge picked it up. Leaving a speechless Logan behind, I had to limp through the crowd and claim my shoe.

Please, please, I prayed, let me wake up and find out that this is all a nightmare.

But it wasn't. A whole bunch of kids had seen my flying shoe and they were laughing. By the time I'd put it on and was wending my way back to Logan, he was standing with Sta-cey and Dawn, and the three of them were laughing, too. I had never, never, never been so embarrassed in my whole life. How could I have been feeling so happy just a few moments earlier? I should have known something like this would happen. I am not the kind of person who's cut out for boys or dances or parties. I'm just not. I knew this evening was going to be horrible.

"Well, I don't think it's so funny," I said stiffly to my friends and marched over to the

bleachers which lined one wall of the gym.

"Mary Anne!" Logan called.

But I could hear Dawn say, "Let her go. I think she wants to be alone."

She was right. Except that I wanted to be aloner than by myself in a gym with twenty thousand people. I wanted to be by myself in my room ... in bed . . . under the covers.

From my perch on the top row of bleachers, I watched Logan dance with Dawn. When the song was over, he climbed the bleachers and sat down next to me. "Mary Anne," he said, "everyone's already forgotten about your shoe. Don't you want to dance?"

I shook my head. Logan brought us some more punch and we drank it while we watched the kids below. After three more songs, Logan said, "Now?"

I shook my head again. "But why don't you go dance?" I didn't really mean it, but I felt I had to say it since Logan looked incredibly bored.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

So Logan trotted down the bleachers. He danced with Stacey, then Claudia, then Kristy. Then he began with Dawn again. He even broke in on Austin Bentley the next time he wanted to dance with Claudia. In between

dances he kept coming back to me, but I couldn't bear to leave the safety of the bleachers. I looked at my watch a million, billion times, waiting for nine-thirty to arrive.