Ann Martin - Logan Likes Mary Anne !

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!"

The plans for the birthday surprise were in full swing — and I suspected nothing.

Ill

Chapter 13.

I dressed carefully for Stacey's party, even though I didn't have much choice about what to wear. My best-looking outfit was the one I'd worn to the dance, so I decided to put it on again.

By six o'clock I was ready and had to kill time. Stacey had originally said that the party would start at six, but that afternoon she'd called to say that everything was going wrong and could I come at six-thirty instead?

"Sure," I'd replied. "I'll call Logan and let him know."

"Oh, no. Don't bother," said Stacey quickly. "I'll call him. I have to call everyone else." She was talking very fast. I decided she must be nervous about the party.

So at 6:15 that night, dressed in my famous-cities skirt, the pink sweater, and the lethal white shoes, I was standing around in the kitchen

while my father started his dinner. At 6:25, I flicked on the TV and watched the news. At 6:35, I decided not to leave quite yet because I didn't want to be the first to arrive at the party. Finally, at 6:40,1 left for Stace/s. I wished I could have walked with Claudia, but she had told me that she and her mom were going to pick up Austin Bentley first. I kind of got the feeling that I wasn't wanted.

When I rang Stacey's bell at 6:451 could hear an awful lot of voices inside. Stacey flung the door open. "Oh, you're here!" she cried. "Come on in!"

I stepped inside.

"Let's go downstairs. Everyone's in the rec room," she said giddily.

"Gosh," I replied, "it sounds like everyone else has already arrived." I glanced at my watch. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"Oh, you're not — not late," said Stacey. "I guess the others were early."

All of them? I wondered. "Is Logan here?" I asked.

"Yup. You're the last to arrive."

That made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I tried to shrug the feeling off. I still wasn't suspicious. After all, I was used to feeling uncomfortable in a crowd.

Stacey and I descended the stairs to the rec

room. On the way down, I thought of something important. "Stacey, your parents are home, aren't they?"

"Yes," Stacey answered, "but I made them promise not to come into the rec room. I think they're in the kitchen. That way, they can keep an eye on the food and an ear on the party."

From my vantage point halfway up the stairs, the start of Stacey's party looked a lot like the start of the school dance. Although the tape deck was playing loudly, no one was dancing. The girls were bunched up in a corner, and the boys were bunched up by the table where Stacey had put out pretzels, potato chips, M&M's, soda, and salad.

Austin Bentley was tossing pretzels in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth. Mostly, he missed.

Alan Gray had put yellow M&M's in his eyes and was going around telling the boys he was Little Orphan Annie.

Pete Black was dunking potato chips in his Coke before eating them.

Across the room, Dori Wallingford was showing her new bracelet to Claudia, who was pretending to be impressed, but who was really watching Austin toss the pretzels in his mouth.

Kristy was whispering to Dawn, who was giggling-

Emily Bernstein was saying loudly, "Alan Gray is so immature," and glaring at Kristy — for having invited him, I guess.

As Stacey led me down the stairs it seemed — for just an instant — that everyone stopped talking, that the entire room paused. But I decided it was my imagination. The room was as noisy as ever when I reached the bottom of the steps.

I looked for Logan. Before I found him, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and there he was.

"Hey," he said, giving me his wide, warm grin. "How ya doin'?"

"Great," I replied.

"Boy, you look nice."

"Thanks, but this is the same outfit I wore to the dance."

"You still look nice."

A phone on the wall nearby began to ring. "Mary Anne, can you get that?" yelled Stacey from across the room.

I picked up the receiver. "Hello, McGills' residence."

With all the music and talking, it was hard to hear the person on the other end of the line, but I thought the voice said, "Hello, this is the Atlanta Pig Corporation. When would you like your pig farm delivered?"

"What?" I shouted.

"We have a pig farm reserved in the name of Stacey McGUl. When would you like us to ship it to you?"

"Just a sec." I paused, putting my hand over the mouthpiece. "Stacey!" I yelled. "Come here!"

Stacey edged through the rec room. "What?"

"It's for you. Something about ... a pig farm?"

Stacey got on the phone, frowning. "Hello ... A pig farm? . . . Justin Forbes, is that you? You are so immature!" Clunk. She hung up. Stacey turned to Logan and me. "Justin's all bent out of shape because he wasn't invited to the party," she informed us. She went back to Claudia and the other girls.

Immediately, the phone began to ring again.

"I'll get it this time," said Logan, reaching for the receiver. "Hello, Disneyland. Goofy speaking. How may I help you?"

I giggled.

"He hung up," said Logan, pretending to look surprised. "I can't imagine why."

Nobody was dancing and only the boys were eating. Logan steered me toward a couch. "Lef s sit down," he said. "Wait, I'll be right back."

I sat, and a few minutes later, Logan returned with two cups of soda and a bag of

pretzels. We sipped our sodas in silence for a few moments but for the first time, our silence seemed comfortable, not uncomfortable. Then Logan asked me a question and we began to talk. We talked about school and our families. Logan told me about Louisville, and I told him about wanting a cat. We talked for so long I lost track of the time. I didn't even hear all the noise around me, except for when Alan Gray shouted, "Let's play Spin the Bottle!" and Emily Bernstein shouted back, "You are so immature, Alan!"

It was as if Logan and I were in our own world, and nobody and nothing else existed. A scary thought occurred to me. Was this part of being in love? Nah. I was only twelve-going-on-thirteen. I couldn't really be in love . . . could I?

"You know," said Logan, polishing off his Pepsi, "I'm glad to be getting to know the real Mary Anne. This is the real Mary Anne, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I first met you, I liked you okay, but you were so quiet and shy. I've never known anyone as shy as you."

"Believe it or not, I'm better than I used to be."

"You're kidding!"

"No, really. . . . Well, maybe I'm still not very good around boys."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Logan considered that. "If you could just open up more — I mean, be the way you are right now — people would have a much easier time getting to know you. I almost didn't ask you to the dance, you know."

"Why did you ask me?"