I supposed what she said was true. When I first met Dawn — and Logan — I was still wearing my hair in braids. My dad was very strict about how I dressed, and as a result, I looked a lot more childish than my friends did. I probably acted younger too. But around that time, I started asking for more independence. And after Dad married Sharon, she encouraged him to lighten up on me too.
The front doorknob rattled. Dad and Sharon had returned. “Hi, Dawn’s on the phone,” I told them.
Sharon’s face lit up. I know she misses Dawn a lot and still doesn’t completely understand why Dawn (and her younger brother, Jeff) chose to live with their father and his new wife in California, instead of here with us. I don’t understand it either, but I guess I accept it more easily than Sharon does.
“Oh, let me talk to her,” Sharon said.
“I’m putting your mom on,” I told Dawn.
“Okay, ’bye. You did the right thing, Mary Anne.”
“Thanks. I hope so,” I replied glumly.
I handed Sharon the phone and headed upstairs. I was in my room barely half a minute when Dad appeared and stood in my doorway. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
He nodded.
“I broke up with Logan,” I told him.
He came into the room and sat on my desk chair. “I’m not surprised.”
His not being surprised surprised me. “Why not?” I asked.
“I thought I noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm lately when Logan was around.”
I was impressed. I didn’t think Dad was that observant. And I didn’t even know I’d been acting unenthusiastic.
“Logan’s great,” I said. “But he’s just … I don’t know … too much.”
“I suppose you did what you thought was best,” he said. “But if that’s true, then why are you so upset?”
“Because I’ve really hurt him.”
“Someone always gets hurt in a breakup,” said Dad. “But he’ll get over it.”
“I guess I’m disappointed too,” I added. “Deep down, I always thought Logan and I would be like Sharon and you.”
Dad smiled. “It wasn’t all that smooth,” he reminded me. I knew the story. Sharon’s parents had thought Dad wasn’t good enough for Sharon, so they sent her off to college in California just to separate her from him. That’s where she met and married Dawn’s father and had Dawn and Jeff. But then they divorced, and Sharon and the kids returned to Stoneybrook — where Dawn and I learned about our parents’ past. (We were looking through Sharon’s high school yearbook.) We arranged for my dad and Sharon to meet again. And the rest is romantic history.
“Maybe things will work out for you and Logan in the end,” Dad suggested, “just as they did for Sharon and me.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think Logan can change that much.”
Dad stood up. “Who knows? Life is funny.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “Good night, honey. Try not to think about it anymore tonight. Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said as he walked out.
I stretched out on my bed and closed my eyes. I didn’t really plan to sleep, just rest. My eyes stung from crying and it felt good to shut them.
Outside my room, I heard the phone ring. Sitting up, I wondered if it was Logan.
“Mary Anne,” Sharon called from the stairs. “Phone!”
My heart pounded. It would be hard to face another conversation with him. My shoulders tightened. No matter how upset he was, I couldn’t change my mind.
I dragged myself off the bed and met Sharon in the stairway. She handed me the cordless phone. “It’s Kristy.”
My body slumped with relief as I took the phone. “Hi.”
“Mary Anne! What happened? I talked to Claudia, so I know a little. But what happened? I can’t believe you really broke up with him.”
I drew in a deep breath. The news had already spread. I realized at that moment that it was going to keep spreading — first to the rest of my friends, and then all through the eighth grade, and all through school.
Everyone knows Logan. He’s such a good athlete. And everyone knows I’m his girlfriend, or was his girlfriend.
“You knew I was thinking about it,” I reminded Kristy.
“Yeah, but how did it happen?”
I sat on the steps and told her. I knew I’d be telling the story a lot over the next week or so, so I had to get used to it.
As I spoke, though, I began to wonder again if I really had done the right thing.
On Sunday I just hid away from the world. My friends all called, offering to come over. I thanked them but said no. I had homework to do, and it seemed easier to think about that than talking about Logan all day.
But on Monday, I couldn’t hide any longer. There was no way to avoid school.
I didn’t really want to avoid it, anyway. Most of the time, I like being at school.
It was Logan I hoped to avoid, although I knew it would be practically impossible.
That morning, Stoneybrook Middle School (we call it SMS, for short) seemed different to me. I stopped to look at it, to see if the walls had been painted over the weekend, the floors had been changed, or if something else had been done to make it appear so different. Nothing had been changed, though.
The kids seemed different too.
It’s hard to describe what I sensed. Usually I head down the hall to my locker without thinking anything of it. I smile and wave to kids along the way. Everything’s fine.
This day, though, I had the feeling that kids stopped talking when I passed. The guys and girls I usually nod and wave to shot me these sickly, sympathetic smiles.
Some of Logan’s teammates turned toward their lockers as I passed.
Was it a coincidence, or were they intentionally avoiding me?
A couple of guys shot me angry glances. At least I thought they did. Was it my imagination?
Kristy was waiting at my locker when I arrived there. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I leaned against the locker. “I feel weird. Does everyone in the whole school already know about Logan and me, or am I being paranoid?”
Kristy hesitated.
“Everyone knows, don’t they?” I said.
She nodded. “Sort of.”
“Well, what’s the big deal? I haven’t committed a crime. It’s not anyone else’s business anyway.”
“You’re totally right,” Kristy agreed.
“I know I am,” I muttered, putting my books into my locker. I was thinking about which books to bring with me when Kristy poked my arm sharply.
Startled, I dropped a book. “That hurt!” I said.
“Sorry,” Kristy murmured. “I just wanted to alert you.”
I followed her intense gaze down the hall and instantly saw the problem.
Logan was approaching — flanked by a couple of his friends from the track team.
He stopped beside my locker. “Hello, Mary Anne,” he said stiffly.
“Hello,” I replied, trying to make my voice as natural as possible.
His friends glowered at me.
Logan was wearing an injured expression, a look that said he was a poor, suffering soul.
A horrible silence followed. Then Logan continued down the hall, followed by his pals.
I slumped against my locker, feeling as if I’d been drained of all my energy.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Kristy said angrily.
“I won’t. But it’s kind of upsetting to think that now the entire track team probably hates me.”
“And the baseball and football teams too,” Kristy added.
“Kristy! Was that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I’m sorry. Anyway, you know they don’t hate you. Face it,” she added, “guys stick together. Especially guys on teams. And Logan is on three teams.”
“Why does he have to be so athletic?” I muttered. “You know what else bothers me? That
Logan has to surround himself with all his friends. Does he think he needs protection from me?”
“Maybe it wasn’t his idea,” Kristy offered.
She had a point.
“But still,” I argued. “That only means his friends think he needs protection from me. And did you hear the way he said hello?” I imitated his stiff, suffering voice. “ ‘Hel-looo, Mary Anne.’ ”
“It was pretty stupid,” Kristy agreed.
I slammed my locker shut. “Logan’s acting so wounded and noble. He’s trying to make it seem like I’m some big villain, as if I deliberately did something to hurt him just for the fun of it. He acts as if this isn’t hurting me as much as it’s hurting him.”
“I’ve never seen you so angry,” Kristy said as we began walking down the hall.
“Do you blame me?” I asked. “ ‘Hello, Mary Anne,’ ” I mimicked his voice again.
“I can see how it would bug you,” Kristy said, “but he’s upset. He can’t help it if his friends are jerks. Give him a break.”
“Give him a break?” I cried. “Whose friend are you anyway?”
“I thought you and Logan were both my friends.”
I stared at her, surprised by her answer.
I’d expected her to say that of course she was my friend. But her answer had been honest. She was friends with both of us.
“That’s true,” I mumbled. “You can do what you like.”
“Don’t be mad about it,” Kristy said.
“I’m not mad,” I told her, which was mostly true. I wasn’t deep down, really mad. I was more upset, and I wanted to know I had at least one true-blue best friend by my side — Kristy. “Sorry I snapped at you. It’s just that everything feels so weird right now.”
* * *
For the rest of that morning I did a pretty good job of not thinking about Logan. I accomplished that by paying total attention to my teachers.
I didn’t really think about him until I was in the hallway outside the cafeteria. I knew he’d be in the lunchroom. How would I handle it? What would he do? The closer I came to the door, the tighter the knot in my stomach grew.
As I approached, I saw Stacey talking to Jeremy. They were laughing together, and seemed so happy. Logan and I had been like that. Why couldn’t things have stayed that way?
Stacey noticed me and said good-bye to Jeremy. “How are you?” she asked, hurrying to my side.
“Okay.” (I may not have had a whole team to surround me, but I felt grateful for my friends.)
Stacey leaned close and lowered her voice. “Logan is already in the lunchroom. He’s surrounded by most of the baseball team.”
“It was the track team this morning,” I told her.
“What are they protecting him from?” she asked. “You?”
“I suppose.”
“Well, you’re pretty tough and scary, Mary Anne. I can see why he needs protecting.” She laughed. “Boys!” she said, as if that explained everything.
We walked into the cafeteria together. My friends were already seated at our usual table. Stacey and I joined the lunch line.
As I waited, my eyes traveled to the table where Logan sits with his pals on days when he doesn’t eat lunch with my friends and me. He wasn’t there.
I scanned the cafeteria, looking for Logan, and spotted him ahead of us in the line.
He stared out sadly into the cafeteria. I guessed that he was trying to find me, just as I’d been searching for him a moment before.
Another person would probably have thought he seemed okay. But I could see something in his eyes that made me shiver.
He reminded me of a little boy lost in a department store, in that moment he first realizes his mom or dad is gone — just before he starts to cry.
I wanted to put my arms around him. Tell him everything was going to be all right, and that we could be friends and I’d always be there to help if he needed me.
I knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do, though.
And then, for the first time since Saturday night, an icy-cold feeling of loneliness crept through me.
Logan was really not a part of my life anymore.
I don’t think I’d realized it until that moment.
That afternoon, at our BSC meeting, I opened the record book and gasped. “Oh, no! I’m supposed to sit at Logan’s house tomorrow. Mrs. Bruno booked the job over three weeks ago.”
“Why isn’t Logan watching Kerry and Hunter?” Kristy asked.
“Football practice has started.”
“Then that means he won’t be there,” Claudia pointed out.
That made me feel calmer. “You’re right,” I said. “Still … it’s going to be weird.”
“I’m sitting for Charlotte Johanssen tomorrow,” Stacey said. “I could bring her over to the Brunos’ house and do two jobs at once if you like.”
“Or I can leave Mural Club a little early and cover for you,” Claudia volunteered.
“I wanted to study for a test, but I could squeeze the job in,” Kristy added.
“Thanks, you guys,” I said. “But I really should go. The Brunos have been like a second family to me. I don’t want them to think I don’t care about them anymore. Kerry and Hunter are such great kids.”
Kerry is Logan’s ten-year-old sister and Hunter is his five-year-old brother. I’ve been very close to them. I hoped that wouldn’t change.
“No, I definitely have to go,” I said firmly. “Just keep your fingers crossed that Mrs. Bruno gets home before football practice lets out, and everything will be fine.”
My friends held up three sets of crossed fingers.
* * *
Even though I was sure I’d made the right decision, I felt anxious about the sitting job all day Tuesday.
That morning, I saw Logan in the hall. He was alone.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied. We stood there, neither of us knowing what to say.
“ ’Bye,” I finally blurted out as I hurried off.
Even though it was an awkward moment, it left me feeling slightly better. Maybe things would improve a little each day. It was an encouraging thought.
After school, I headed to the Brunos’ house. They live on Burnt Hill Road, where my old house used to be. To get there I had to pass the burned-out remains.
Nothing much was left but a big hole in the ground where the basement had been and the barn we were now converting into our new house. The hole was almost filled with charred wood, which lay in a black heap. The melted shell of the microwave sat inside the blackened, peeling bathtub. The oven, refrigerator, washing machine, dryer, and dishwasher were also sooty, blistered, and warped but still there. Anything that was still usable had been taken away. There hadn’t been much.
I wondered which heap of ashy cinders had been my bed, which ashes were once my photo albums, my books, my CDs.
It amazed me that after all this time I could still smell smoke. More than the sight, the smell brought back the horrible memory.
An odd idea popped into my head. Had my entire world changed on the night of the fire? In a way, it seemed so. Not on the outside but maybe inside.
The thought made me uncomfortable and I pushed it out of my mind.
Turning up my jacket collar against the cold, I hurried on. I couldn’t stand to see my house in its ruined state.
When I arrived at the Brunos’, Logan’s mom answered the door. “Hi, Mary Anne, come on in.”
Her behavior was so friendly and normal I wondered if she even knew about Logan’s and my breakup. She was hurrying off to a meeting about setting up a book fair at Kerry’s school.
“Where are the kids?” I asked. They usually run out to greet me, but today they were nowhere in sight.
Mrs. Bruno pulled on her jacket and checked around. “Gee, I don’t know. They were here a minute ago. Kerry! Hunter!”
They still didn’t appear.
Mrs. Bruno walked to the stairs and called up to them. “Kids!”
>
Hunter came down the stairs. He peered at me through the railings, frowning. Mrs. Bruno might not know something was going on, but I could see that Hunter did.
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Bruno asked. “Mary Anne is here!”
Kerry stood on the stairs behind Hunter and put her hand on his slim shoulder. “Hello, Mary Anne,” she said.
I couldn’t believe it! She sounded exactly the way Logan had on Monday. Hurt and noble and angry at the same time.
She was definitely aware of the breakup.
And definitely mad at me.
Mrs. Bruno frowned at Hunter and Kerry, confused. Then, turning her wrist, she glanced at her watch. “I’d better go.”
“We’ll be fine,” I assured her.
“Okay,” she replied with one more perplexed glance at her kids. “All right, Mary Anne, I’ll be at the elementary school. The numbers there are posted on the fridge, and so is my cell phone number. I’ll be back around six.”
Six! I thought, panicked. Logan’s football practice wouldn’t last until six.
“Don’t bother about dinner,” she continued, grabbing her purse from a doorknob. “I’ll cook for these guys when I get home. Mr. Bruno’s working late and Logan’s stopping off for pizza with some of the guys, so I won’t have to worry about them.”
Logan was stopping for pizza. Good. I calmed down. That would probably keep him out later than six. I was safe.
I closed the door behind Mrs. Bruno and turned to find Kerry and Hunter facing me, arms folded, their expressions set angrily into scowls.
“I guess we should talk,” I said.
“You dumped Logan!” Kerry cried. “Are you crazy? How could you do that?”
“Yeah!” Hunter shouted.
“We definitely have to talk,” I said. “Can we please go sit in the living room?”
Still scowling at me, Hunter and Kerry moved to the living room.
“If Logan’s not good enough for you anymore, then I suppose we’re not either,” Kerry said as she threw herself onto the couch. Hunter hurled himself onto the cushions beside her.
I sat at the edge of the easy chair across from them. “Kerry, that’s not what’s going on,” I began. “I don’t think I’m too good for Logan.”
Mary Anne's Big Break-Up Page 3
