Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 041

Oh, sure, there would be tough times ahead for them. They would quarrel, fight, slam doors, not speak to each other, go on car trips and divide the backseat in half so that neither sister touched the other's belongings. Just like Dawn and me. We fight sometimes. But mostly we're good friends. We stick up for each other and we have fun together. ' I could tell that, that was the way things would be for Jenny and Andrea, too.

Jenny bent over. She and Andrea were nose to nose. "Hello, Andrea," said Jenny. "I'm your big sister. I know you can't do many things yet, so I will help you. Maybe when you're three or four I'll teach you how to play Flamingo Fight. I'll be seven or eight by then. I'll be going to school and you won't, so I'll tell you all about school." Jenny stopped talking. She stroked the black downy hair on Andrea's head. "Don't worry, Mommy," said Jenny, looking up. "I remember about the soft spot. I won't hurt the baby." By that time, the Prezziosos were filming this scene on their camcorder. But Mrs. P. stopped watching her daughters long enough to pay me. Then I went home.

Chapter 15.

Wow.

Did I ever do some heavy thinking as I walked from Jenny's house to mine.

I was thinking about relationships. I thought about Dawn and me, and what good friends we are. Even when we fight, we learn something from our fights. We learn how to listen to each other and respect each other.

I was thinking about Jenny and Andrea. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that Andrea's homecoming would have worked out the way it had. Not with the conversations the BSC members had been having with Jenny. Not with Jenny throwing her doll around her room. Not with Jenny's fears about no longer being her parents' "one and only." I suppose that sometimes some family members never get along, but I don't think that happens often. Usually when people are mad, some sort of love is underlying the feelings that show, the feelings on the outside. When people love each other - whether they're brothers and sisters, parents and children, best friends, husbands and wives, or girlfriends and boyfriends - that love leads to an understanding. That's why I can (usually) ignore my father when he gets into one of his orderliness frenzies. It's why my stepmother doesn't force me to eat the foods (such as tofu) that she and Dawn adore. And it's why Dawn and I can fight and make up.

Then I thought about Logan and me. What did this say about us? I had tried to be understanding of Logan, but was he understanding of me? He used to be, that's for sure. I remembered my thirteenth birthday. There had been a surprise party. Since I'm shy, you can imagine how I felt about being surprised with a cake and gifts. I hated being the center of attention. Being the center of attention is right up there with performing and public speaking. I'm terrified of those things. And when I ran out on my own party that evening, Logan understood. He gave me a chance to get myself together. Then we talked about things, and Logan never made me the center of attention again, if he could possibly help it. He didn't mind when I'd agree to go to a school dance - and then not dance. He let me make up my mind about going to Halloween parties in costumes or in regular clothes. . . . He used to be that way.

Now he wasn't.

I felt that he didn't listen to me anymore. He thought only about what he wanted, while I tried to understand him and what he wanted, and to make allowances for him. Not that he would have forced me to dance at a school hop - or would he have? I wasn't sure. What I was sure about, though, was that he expected me to be available for him at all times. He seemed to have forgotten that I had a family and another life, and that they did not include Logan.

Logan wanted me to be "Logan's girl," and I didn't want to be anybody's girl. Ever. I may not be as independent as my sister, but I have rights and feelings like anyone else.

I did not want to be owned.

By the time I reached our house, I had made a decision.

First, I went to my room. I opened my jewelry box, removed something from it, and slipped it into my pocket.

Then I telephoned Logan.

"Hi," I said when he picked up the phone. "It's me." "Hi, you!" "Logan, I have to talk to you. Now. Can we meet in the park?" "It's late, Mary Anne. It's getting dark out. Why do you have to meet me somewhere? Can't we just talk? Or can't we see each other in school tomorrow? I'm not - " "No," I interrupted.

"Mary Anne." ' "Logan, when you call me on the spur of the moment and want me to go out, I usually do it. Now I'm asking you to do the same thing for me." I paused. Then I went on, "We'll meet at the bench by the skating pond." "Oh, okay! Remember that snowy afternoon in the park? That was great, wasn't it?" "Yeah. But Logan, you don't need to bring your skates. I can't stay out very long." "Me, neither," replied Logan agreeably. "See you in a few minutes." We hung up the phone.

"Dawn!" I called. (She was in her room, studying.) "I'm going to meet Logan in the park now." "Now?" "Yeah. I know it's late, but I only have to see him for a few minutes. I'll be back before six o'clock." "You shouldn't let Logan push you around like this," was Dawn's reply.

I almost told her that / was doing the pushing, but I didn't have time. Besides, by this evening I'd probably have a lot more to tell her, so I just yelled, "Later!" Then I put on my parka and mittens and ran out the door and all the way to the park.

The park looked very different than it had a few weeks earlier. The snow was gone. Scrubby brown grass showed in its place. The tree branches were bare, dark against the late afternoon sky. No snow outlined them, turning them into fairy trees. Only a few people were still enjoying the park; the children had left.

And yet just seeing the park brought back all sorts of memories. It brought back good times that Logan and I had shared there. And those memories led to other memories.

I pictured Logan and me wearing cat costumes to the Halloween Hop.

I pictured us on a joint baby-sitting job for Jackie Rodowsky. That was before Logan and I were boyfriend and girlfriend.

I remembered the first time I had spotted Logan in school, when he was the new boy - and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I could not believe what I was going to do.

When I reached the bench it was empty.

I sat down and waited.

Logan was not likely to be late.

And he wasn't. I'd been sitting alone for less than a minute when I heard him call, "Hi, Mary Anne!" He was loping toward me, jogging through the park. Smiling.

Oh, I thought. What am I doing? What am I going to do to Logan? What am I going to do to us?

But my mind was made up.

Logan sank down next to me. He tilted my chin toward him so we could kiss, but I pulled away.

"What's wrong?" asked Logan. "Here we are in the park. Don't - " I put my hand over Logan's mouth to make him stop talking. It was Logan's turn to pull away. But then he leaned toward me and tried to kiss me again. Why wasn't he getting the message?

Oh.

Because I wasn't talking. I thought my actions were enough, but maybe not. After all, Logan couldn't read my thoughts.

"Logan . . . Logan?" I began.

"Yes? Yes?" Logan laughed at his joke.

"Logan, this is serious," I said. (Logan's smile vanished.) "Remember how I said we needed to cool our relationship?" "Of course," answered Logan. "And we did." "No. J did. You never took it seriously." "I did too!" exclaimed Logan indignantly.

"But then you decided to start things up again, without asking me." "I don't have to ask your permission for everything." "No, but you need to listen to me. And understand me. I don't feel like you do either of those things anymore. You haven't for a long time." I could feel my hands growing clammy in my mittens, but I was determined to say what I'd planned to say. "I was the one who asked to cool our relationship for awhile, and you agreed. Don't you think it would have been courteous to consult me when you felt we were ready to start seeing more of each other?" "Courteous?" repeated Logan. "Who are you? Miss Manners?" "No, I'm Mary Anne Spier and I am a person. An independent person who likes to think for herself and have some freedom." (I was shaking; wondering just how independent I was - or wanted to be.) "What exactly are you saying, Mary Anne?" "I want to break up with you," I replied. I didn't even hesitate before I said it.