Ann Martin - Logan Likes Mary Anne !

Jackie looked a little sheepish. "Today in gym we were exercising. We were climbing ropes and chinning on these bars — "

"And you thought you'd try chinning on the curtain rod," Logan interrupted.

"Yeah," said Jackie. "How did you know?"

"I did it myself once."

Jackie nodded. (What was this? Some sort of boy's ritual I'd never heard of?) "I stood on the edge of the tub," said Jackie, "grabbed onto the rod, and as soon as I pulled myself up, the bar crashed down!"

"When I did it, I had to have six stitches taken in my lip," said Logan. "Look, here's the scar."

I shook my head. Logan hadn't checked Jackie for bumps or cuts, and he hadn't told him not to try chinning again. I waited a few moments longer. The boys were discussing gym class catastrophes. It was time to break in.

"Um, Jackie," I said, "I'm glad you're not hurt, but you better let us check you over, just in case."

Logan looked at me in surprise. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Good idea."

I checked Jackie's arms and legs while Logan rehung the curtain rod. A bruise was already coming out on one of Jackie's knees, but it didn't look too bad. "Now let me feel your head," I said. "You wouldn't want a big goose egg, would you?"

"Goose egg?" repeated Jackie, giggling.

Logan smiled. "I should have thought of this, Mary Anne," he said. "Sorry. I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks," I said, and actually smiled. (I was glad he was there.) I decided the talk about not chinning could wait until later.

Jackie's head seemed fine. The three of us went downstairs. "I need some juice," Jackie announced. He made a beeline for the refrig-

erator and took out a jar of grape juice.

"Better let me pour," said Logan. (Score another point.)

"No, no. I can do it." Jackie got a paper cup and filled it to the brim. "I'll have it in the living room," he said, and before we knew what was happening, he ran out of the kitchen, tripped, and spilled the entire cup of juice on the living room carpet.

"Oh, no," I moaned.

But Logan kept his head. For one thing, the carpet was dark blue, so the juice didn't show — much. Logan sent Jackie into the kitchen for paper towels. He got busy with water, soap, and finally a little soda water. When he was done, the rug was smelly and damp, but he assured me there wouldn't be a stain.

I was pretty impressed.

"Hey!" said Jackie. "I never showed you Elizabeth." He started up the stairs.

"We'll come with you," said Logan hastily. (I was relieved. He was doing okay after all.)

We followed Jackie into his bedroom. He removed a jar from the windowsill. "This is Elizabeth," he said softly. He reached into the jar, let Elizabeth crawl onto a finger, pulled his hand up — and found that his hand was stuck.

No matter how we pulled and twisted, Lo-

gan and I couldn't get the jar off Jackie's hand.

"Do you think we could break it without cutting Jackie?" I asked.

Logan frowned and shook his head. "I've got a better idea," he said. He went downstairs and returned with a tub of margarine. A few seconds later, Jackie's greasy hand was out of the jar.

"Good thinking!" I exclaimed.

Logan grinned. "What was it you said just before we rang the doorbell this afternoon?"

"I said ... oh, yeah." (I'd said, "How much trouble can one little kid be?" but I didn't want to repeat that in front of Jackie.)

Before Mrs. Rodowsky returned, Jackie managed to fall off his bicycle, rip his jeans, and later to make me fall over backward into Logan's arms. (Sigh.) I felt that Logan had earned every penny he was paid. I was really proud of the job he'd done — and I was glad the Rodowskys were going to be mostly his clients.

As Logan and I crossed the Rodowskys' lawn, the front door safely closed behind us, Logan said, "I'll never forget the look on your face when Jackie spilled that juice."

"I'll never forget the look on your face when the jar got stuck on his hand!"

"And," Logan added, "I'll never forget the

look on your face when Jackie knocked you into me."

I blushed furiously.

"Oh, no," said Logan quickly. "It was a nice look. Really nice. You know, you have a pretty smile."

I do?

I was melting, melting away. I was turning into a wonderful Mary Anne puddle. And all because of Logan.

Chapter 7.

Claudia really wasn't kidding. After her experience, no one will ever let Chewbacca Perkins loose again — unless we're told to walk him or something. He's a sweet, lovable dog, but he's so big. And he gets so excited.

Claudia went to the Perkinses' house right after school on Thursday. Gabbie answered the doorbell. "Hi, Claudee Kishi!" she cried, jumping up and down.

"Hiya, Gabbers." Claudia let herself inside.

Gabbie held up her arms. "Toshe me up, please."

Claudia picked her up and gave her a squeeze. Gabbie is very huggable. "Hi, Mrs. Perkins," she called.

Mrs. Perkins was frantically folding laundry in the living room. "Oh, Claudia, thank goodness you're here. It's been one of those days. The dryer just broke, although not till after I'd done this load, we have a leak in the bathroom, and Gabbie spent all morning gluing stickers to her bedroom door."

"Want to see, Claudee Kishi? My door is very beautiful."

"You did a nice job, sweetie," said Mrs. Perkins, struggling with a sheet, "but stickers don't go on doors. They go on paper."

"My door is very beautiful," Gabbie repeated, looking serious.

"Where's Myriah?" asked Claudia.

"Oh, she's at the Community Center." Mrs. Perkins stood up, carrying a pile of folded clothes. "She takes Creative Theater there on Thursdays after kindergarten. The Community Center bus will drop her off at the corner of Bradford and Elm. I need you and Gabbie to meet her there at four, okay?"

"Sure," replied Claudia.

"I'll be back a little after five. I have a checkup with the doctor, and then I'm going to drop by a friend's house. Both numbers are posted on the refrigerator. So's the number of the Community Center, just in case."

"Okay. Where's Chewy?"

Mrs. Perkins smiled. "You missed his galloping feet? He's out in the backyard. He's fine there."

Chewbacca is a black Labrador retriever. He has more energy than all eight Pike kids plus Jackie Rodowsky put together. The Perkinses have fenced in the entire backyard for him so he has a big safe area to run around in.

Mrs. Perkins checked her watch. "Oh, I'm going to be late! Claudia, could you carry these clothes upstairs for me? Leave them any-

where. By the way, the girls can have a snack later. Myriah is usually starving by the time she gets home from the center."

"Okay/' said Claudia. "See you later. We're going to have lots of fun. Right, Gabbers?"

"Right, Claudee Kishi."

Mrs. Perkins rushed off. Gabbie helped Claudia carry the clothes upstairs. When they'd finished, she took Claudia by the hand and led her to her bedroom.

"See my beautiful door?" she said.

Claudia smiled. It really was covered with stickers — wildlife stickers with gummed backs — from the floor to as high up as Gabbie could reach, which wasn't very high.

"You must have worked hard," said Claudia.

Gabbie nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "I did."

Claudia wondered what she would have done if Gabbie were her little girl. The door wasn't ruined, but it would take a lot of work to scrape off the stickers. Gabbie didn't think she had done anything wrong, though. She had only wanted to make her door "beautiful." It must be hard to be a parent, Claudia thought.

"Well," said Claudia, "what do you want to do? We don't have to meet your sister for a while."

"I want to . . ." Gabble frowned. "I want to play with Cindy Jane." (Cindy Jane is an old Cabbage Patch doll. Myriah says her name is really Caroline Eunice.)