Ann Martin - Logan Likes Mary Anne !

"We're the last ones?" I cried. "We better hurry. Come on, Dawn." I paused long enough to give Mimi a kiss. Then Dawn and I raced upstairs. As we ran by Janine's room (Jartine

is Claudia's older sister), we called hello to her, but we didn't stop. We didn't stop until we were in Baby-sitters Club headquarters. We closed the door behind us and flopped on the floor. The good spots were already taken — Stacey and Claudia were lying on the bed, and Kristy was sitting in the director's chair as usual. (She loves being in charge.)

"How did you get over here so early?" Dawn asked Kristy. Now that Kristy lives across town, she depends on her big brother Charlie to drive her to and from meetings. The Baby-sitters Club pays him to do that. It's part of running our business.

Kristy shrugged. "Charlie wanted to leave early. He was on his way to the shopping center. . . . Well, let's get started."

"Oh, Kristy," said Claudia. "We don't have to be in a rush. This is our last meeting of the summer. Nobody has to go anywhere. Let's have some refreshments first."

I grinned. Refreshments to Claudia are junk food. She's addicted to the stuff and has it hidden all over her room. I watched her reach inside her pillowcase. Then her hand emerged with two bags — one of gumdrops, one of pretzels. The pretzels were for everybody. The gumdrops were for herself and Kristy and me.

Dawn won't eat them because she says they're too unhealthy, and Stacey can't eat them because she has diabetes and has to stay on a strict diet — no extra sweets.

While Claudia passed around the food, Kristy got out our club record book and our notebook. She handed the record book to me. As secretary, it's my job to keep it up-to-date. I write down our baby-sitting appointments on the calendar pages and keep track of all sorts of things, such as our clients' addresses and phone numbers. Stacey, the treasurer, is in charge of recording the money we earn.

Our other book, the notebook, is a diary in which we write up every job we go on. Each of us is responsible for reading the book once a week or so. It takes a lot of time, but it's helpful to know whaf s happened at the houses where our friends have baby-sat.

"Any club business?" Kristy asked.

The rest of us shook our heads.

"Have you all read the notebook?"

"Yup," we replied.

"Okay. Great. Well, we'll just wait for the phone to ring."

The club meets three times a week — Monday, Wednesday, and Friday — from five-thirty until six. Our clients know that they can call

Claudia's number at those times and reach the five of us. They like the arrangement because they're bound to find a sitter.

I leaned back against Claudia's bed, opened Sixteen, and gazed at the free poster.

"Who's that? Cam Geary?" asked Stacey, peering over the edge of the bed at the picture.

I nodded. "Mr. Gorgeous."

"You know who he goes out with?" said Claudia.

"Who?" replied Stacey.

"Corrie Lalique."

"Corrie Lalique?" she shrieked. "The girl from 'Once Upon a Dream'? Does he really?"

"I read it in Young Teen/' said Claudia.

"I read it in Sixteen," I added.

"But she's too old for him," Stacey protested.

"No she's not," Kristy spoke up. "She's fourteen."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "You're kidding! Have you noticed the size of her — the size of her ..."

"Chest?" supplied Claudia. "Well, she is kind of big, but believe me, Kristy's right. She's only fourteen. And she is going out withCam ."

"Boy — "I began, but I was interrupted by the phone.

Dawn answered it. "Hello, Baby-sitters

Club," she said. "Oh, hi! ... When? . . . Okay. . . . Okay. I'll call you right back. . . . 'Bye."

Dawn hung up the phone. I was already holding the record book in my lap, opened to the appointment calendar.

"Mrs. Prezzioso needs someone for Jenny on Saturday afternoon, from four until about six-thirty," said Dawn.

This was met by groans. "I'll just check my own schedule," I replied. I'm the only one who likes Jenny at all. The others think she's bratty. Ifs a club rule that a job has to be offered to all the club members (not snapped up by the person who takes the call or something), but I didn't even bother to see if Kristy or Stacey or Claudia or Dawn was free. They wouldn't want the job. "Tell Mrs. Prezzioso I can sit," I said to Dawn as I noted my job in the appointment book.

Dawn called Mrs. Prezzioso back. When she got off the phone, Kristy's mother called needing a sitter for David Michael one afternoon when Kristy had a dentist's appointment. Then Dr. Johanssen called needing a sitter for Charlotte, and Mrs. Barrett called needing a sitter for Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie. It was a busy meeting. With school starting again, business was probably going to pick up a little. Every-

one's schedules seemed to become more crowded.

The meeting was supposed to be over at six, but we all kind of hung around. No one wanted to end our last summer meeting. Finally I had to leave, though. So did Kristy. "See you in ..." (gulp) "... school tomorrow!" she called, and I wanted to cry. Summer was really and truly over.

Chapter 2.

Claudia and Stacey and I walked to school together the next morning, since the three of us live in the same neighborhood. It was the first time ever that Kristy and I hadn't walked off together on day number one of a school year. But Kristy had to take the bus from her new home. (Dawn, who lived not too far away, often took a different route to school, and sometimes her mother drove her there on her way to work.)

I was all set for eighth grade. My brand-new binder was filled with fresh paper; I had inserted neatly labeled dividers, one for each subject, among the paper; and a pencil case containing pens, pencils, an eraser, a ruler, and a pack of gum was clipped to the inside front cover. My lunch money was in my purse, the photo of Cam Geary was folded and ready to be displayed in my locker. (That was what the gum was for. You're not allowed to tape

things up in the lockers of Stoneybrook Middle School, so a lot of kids get around that rule by sticking them up with bits of freshly chewed gum.) The only thing about me not ready for eighth grade was my age. I had the latest birthday of all my friends and wouldn't turn thirteen for several more weeks.

Starting eighth grade seemed like a breeze to me. I'd been a chicken when we'd begun sixth grade, and I was going to be one of the youngest kids in the school. I hadn't been much better when we'd started seventh grade the year before. But now I felt like king of the hill. The eighth-graders were the oldest kids in school. We would get to do special things during the year. We would have a real graduation ceremony in June. After that, we would go on to the high school. Pretty important stuff.

But I couldn't decide whether to be excited or disappointed about the beginning of school. When we reached Stoneybrook Middle School, Stacey and Claudia and I just looked at each other.

Finally Claudia said, "Well, good-bye, summer."

Then Stacey started speaking in her Porky Pig voice. "Th-th-th-th-th-th-th-thaf s all, folks!" she exclaimed, waving her hand.

Claudia arid I laughed. Then we split up.

There were three eighth-grade homerooms, and we were each in a different one. I went to my locker first, working half a piece of gum around in my mouth on the way. "Hello, old locker," I said to myself as I spun the dial on number 132. I opened the door. This was the only morning all year that my locker would be absolutely empty when I opened it. I pulled the poster of Cam Geary out of my notebook and set the notebook and my purse on the shelf of the locker. Then I unfolded the poster. I took the gum out of my mouth, checked the hall for teachers, and divided the gum into four bits, one for each corner. There. The poster stayed up nicely. I could look at Cam's gorgeous face all year.