Mary Anne's Big Breakup Read online

  “If I wanted to be with someone new, I’d have said I’d go with Dave or Pete.”

  “I give up!” Stacey cried. “Do what you want.”

  Hearing her say that made me realize that I was doing what I wanted. Neither Logan nor my friends were taking the lead.

  I was. And feeling pretty proud of it.

  No, I wasn’t going to let anyone pressure me into going to the dance.

  I felt great about that decision and my newfound independence — until Saturday afternoon.

  Then, suddenly, instead of feeling strong and in control, I felt lonely. I sat on the living room couch and wondered what was wrong with me. Why hadn’t I wanted to go to the dance? Was everyone at SMS going except me?

  Was Logan going?

  I had no idea. At Friday’s BSC meeting, we’d avoided the subject. Between my state and the whole Claudia-Jeremy-Stacey thing, it was just too uncomfortable.

  I found the cordless phone and called Claudia. “Are you going to the dance?” I asked.

  “No. There’s no way I want to be anywhere near Stacey and Jeremy when they’re dancing together. That’s one experience I can live without.”

  Great, I thought as I wandered back into the living room and stretched out on the couch. At least I won’t have to be alone. “Want to come over and hang out at my house?”

  “Sorry. I can’t. I’m sitting for the Rodowskys tonight. Try Kristy. I know she’s not going.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.”

  Before I could punch in Kristy’s number, Dad entered the living room. “Sharon and I are going to the movies tonight. Want to join us?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” I replied. My parents are great, but I didn’t feel like going out with them. “I’ll do something with one of my friends.”

  “Well … all right.” He left me to call Kristy.

  “Hi,” said Kristy when she picked up the phone. “I can’t talk long. I’m helping Nannie make a zillion apple pies.” Nannie is Kristy’s grandmother.

  “Why are you making so many?” I asked.

  “We’re donating them to the homeless shelter. We could never eat all these apples in a million years. We’re making pumpkin pies too.”

  “Well, when you’re done, would you like to come over? Dad and Sharon are going out. We could nuke some popcorn and watch videos.”

  “It sounds great, but I have to go to a chamber of commerce dinner tonight. They’re honoring Watson.”

  “Oh,” I said glumly.

  “Go to the dance by yourself.”

  “I’m not going if you guys aren’t,” I said. “I don’t want to hang out by myself.”

  “I’m sorry, Mary Anne. Really I am. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do something then.”

  “All right. Have fun at the dinner. ’Bye.” I hung up, sighing.

  Deal with it, Mary Anne, I commanded myself. I’d wanted to be on my own. Now I was getting what I’d asked for.

  That evening, after supper, Dad and Sharon again invited me to go out with them. I was tempted, but resisted.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right tonight?” Dad asked.

  “Dad!” I cried.

  “Okay. Okay,” he said. “I just don’t want you here alone thinking about the dance and all.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

  After I locked the door behind them, I went to the kitchen and put a bag of popcorn into the microwave. While it cooked, I opened the living room cabinet where we keep the videos. We have a pretty big collection.

  I began pulling out my favorites. I’d selected three when the microwave beeped, signaling me that the popcorn was done. I dumped my selections on the couch and returned to the kitchen.

  Popcorn in hand, I sat on the couch and looked through the videos, deciding which one to watch first.

  I picked up Fly Away Home, about a girl who raises baby geese and teaches them to fly, using a hang glider. I remembered watching it with Logan. There’s this really touching moment when the baby geese first fly. Naturally, I was blubbering my eyes out. (I not only cry at sad parts of movies, I also cry at happy parts.) I had looked over at Logan and seen that his eyes were misty. At that moment, I felt so in love with him. Any boy who could get weepy over flying baby geese had to be the greatest, most sensitive guy on earth.

  Hmm. With all those memories attached, it probably wasn’t the best movie for me to watch just then.

  I set it aside.

  The next one was When Harry Met Sally, about two people who keep falling in and out of love.

  Not exactly what I wanted to watch right now.

  My third choice was a movie about a talking parrot. Paulie. Logan and I had argued over that one. I’d thought it was sweet. He’d said it was dumb. It had bothered me that he wouldn’t let it go until he had changed my mind about it. That night I’d given in and said, “Okay, I suppose it was dumb, but I still liked it.”

  For the rest of that evening I’d been annoyed at myself for giving in. I suppose that by then, things were already beginning to change between Logan and me, only I hadn’t realized it yet.

  I put that one aside also. I knew I’d only be aggravated as I watched it.

  I was about to search for another video when the phone rang. I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver, hoping Claudia or Kristy had somehow become free for the evening.

  “It’s me….” said the voice on the other end.

  Logan.

  “Hi,” I said shakily. He was the last person I’d expected.

  “I guess you didn’t go to the dance,” he said after a moment.

  “Nope,” I replied. “You either.”

  “No. I didn’t want to. What are you doing?”

  “Deciding what video to watch.”

  “Are Kristy and the others with you?”

  “No. I’m alone tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  More silence.

  “What did you decide to watch?” he asked.

  “I haven’t picked one yet.” I wasn’t about to tell him that he was the problem — that I was desperately searching for a movie that didn’t remind me of him.

  “I rented the Robin Williams movie, the one that just came out on video,” he said. “Want to see it?”

  My brain felt scrambled. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I was happy that Logan was being friendly. And I really didn’t want to be in some weird war with him. But I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea — that I was open to the idea of getting back together.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll get it from you at school on Monday.”

  “Or,” he said, “I could bring it over to you tonight.”

  “Don’t you want to see it first?” I asked.

  “We could watch it together.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “As friends, I mean,” he added quickly. “You said that’s what you wanted. And … I guess I’m willing to try. It’s better than nothing.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Come on over.” The truth was, I did want to see him.

  After I hung up, I stood there wondering if I’d done the right thing. Feeling panicked, I phoned Claudia at the Rodowskys.’

  “I might have just done a stupid thing,” I told her when she picked up. “I invited Logan over.”

  “Will your parents mind?” she asked.

  “No. But what if he gets the wrong idea?”

  “Make it clear right from the start,” she advised. “Keep things very unromantic. Don’t sit too close to him.” In the background I heard a crash. “I think Jackie just broke something,” she said. “I better go. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  As I hung up the phone, the front doorbell rang. I froze, staring at the door.

  “How did you get here so fast?” I asked as I opened the door to Logan.

  “Dad dropped me off,” he answered, stepping inside. “He was going out anyway.”

  He looked around the living room and squinted. “Why do you h
ave so many lights on?” he asked.

  I hadn’t expected him to notice. I’d turned on almost all the lights in the kitchen and the living room, to make the place as unromantic as I could.

  “Oh, you’re right,” I said. “Look at that.” I snapped off a couple of lamps but still left the place pretty bright.

  He held out the video and a big bag of potato chips. “Want some soda?” I offered.

  “Sure,” he agreed, and followed me into the kitchen.

  I felt a little jittery, but mostly I was happy. It was good to see Logan without a lot of people staring at us.

  As I poured the soda, Logan began talking about that afternoon’s football game. I already knew we’d won, but he told me about a play that had gone wrong yet resulted in a touchdown anyway.

  I laughed when he said how he’d been totally confused but kept running with the ball because he couldn’t find anyone to pass it to.

  “You made the touchdown?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it was total dumb luck. I was like … duh … how did this happen?”

  We laughed.

  Everything began to feel normal.

  We returned to the living room and popped in the video. While we watched the previews, I told him about the plans for the new house. “My room will be a lot bigger than the old one was. Even though I loved it, our old house was old and dark. The barn is going to be sunny and open. I can’t wait.”

  “Sounds great,” he said. “You’ll have to invite me over to see it when it’s done.”

  “Definitely. Maybe I’ll even ask if I can have a party.”

  The feature presentation came on and we quieted down. One thing Logan and I have always agreed on is Robin Williams. We both think that when he’s funny, there’s no one funnier. (We disagree about him when he’s serious. I think he’s sweet. Logan can’t stand him in those roles.)

  In this movie he was hysterical. By the middle of it, we were both howling with laughter.

  “See?” Logan said to me, still a little breathless from laughing. “We still have fun together.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed, smiling. “We do.”

  His expression turned serious. “Then I don’t understand why we have to be apart.”

  My smile faded quickly.

  “Really,” he continued. “As long as we still like each other and have fun, why can’t we work out our other problems?”

  I drew in a long, slow breath, no longer paying attention to the movie. “We’ve tried to work out the problems before,” I reminded him as calmly as I could.

  “Mary Anne, don’t get excited about what I’m going to say, okay?”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “You’ve been through a lot lately,” he began. “I’ve been wondering if … if maybe the fire upset you so much that you’re not thinking clearly.”

  “Are you kidding? Are you saying that I’m acting crazy?”

  “Not crazy,” he said quickly. “Just … not like yourself. It’s as if you’re kind of off balance.”

  What was he trying to say? That because I no longer wanted to go out with him, I must be out of my mind?

  “Maybe I want to be off balance,” I replied. “Maybe I was tired of being balanced the way you wanted me to be.”

  “You are so wrong about me,” Logan exclaimed. “I do not push you around or make you do things my way. I’ve been thinking about it and it’s not true. That’s just the way you see things.”

  “How can I see things differently from the way I see them?” I snapped. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Don’t call me stupid!”

  “You’re not stupid, but what you just said was stupid. It proves my point, though. You don’t even want me to trust my own judgment.”

  “I do so!”

  “No. You don’t. Did you hear what you said? ‘It’s just the way you see things.’ You want me to see things your way.”

  “You think about things too much,” Logan said, standing up and walking toward the window.

  “How can a person think too much?”

  “I don’t know. But you do,” he insisted, gazing out the window. Then he turned abruptly, facing me once again. “Let’s make it simple. So I can understand,” he said. “What is it exactly that you no longer like about me?”

  “You’re too possessive,” I answered.

  “Well, you’re too sensitive.”

  “Maybe, but you’re not sensitive at all.” That wasn’t entirely true, I realized. “At least you’re not sensitive to me and my feelings.”

  “You expect me to be a mind reader,” Logan said fiercely. “No one will ever be able to make you happy, because you expect everyone to be as sensitive as you are. No guy on earth could be that much in tune with your every feeling.”

  I glared at him. This was so unfair.

  “Maybe someday they’ll explore another planet and find some alien race of mind readers,” he went on. “Then you’ll find the guy you’re looking for.”

  “Very funny,” I replied. “I think it’s time for you to go home.” I stalked over to the VCR and stopped the tape. I dropped it back into its case and handed it to him.

  Logan took it, then sat on the couch.

  He didn’t seem to be leaving, so I retrieved his jacket from the front hall and gave it to him.

  “I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he said.

  “It’s a little late to worry about that now.”

  “Sorry.”

  That quick apology slowed down my anger. “It’s okay,” I muttered.

  “Mary Anne, I just think that even after everything that’s happened, we can still save our relationship,” he said.

  I thought about that. I thought hard. Was he right? And … was that what I wanted?

  I still had so many strong feelings for him. It had felt so right, laughing with him. And it would be so nice not to feel lonely and anxious. It was all so confusing. A dull ache began throbbing in my temples.

  Logan stood and headed for the door. “I’ll leave if it’s what you really want,” he said.

  This was my chance to take it all back, my moment to turn back time and set everything right again. But I couldn’t.

  I knew I’d already done the best thing for myself. I needed to be free of Logan. Deep inside I was sure some part of me would never get the chance to be born — to grow — if I lost my nerve now. I remembered Ellice and her words about possibilities. I wanted my possibilities. With Logan choking them off I’d never know what they might have been.

  “It’s the best thing,” I answered in a dry, cracked voice.

  He opened the door but hesitated. “You’re wrong about that.”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied quietly.

  Then he was gone.

  And I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

  “Mary Anne, calm down. You’re getting hysterical. Take a deep breath,” said Dawn. I’d called her about five minutes after Logan left.

  Holding the phone away from my face, I tried to do as she said and calm myself.

  My sleeve was now soaked from wiping away tears. I walked to the kitchen for a paper towel and blotted my eyes, then blew my nose.

  I breathed in deeply and slowly. But then I began to hiccup. “Oh, great,” I muttered into the phone, hiccuping in between words.

  Dawn laughed. “Oh, no, hiccups. Get some water. You sip. I’ll talk.”

  “O-hic-kay,” I agreed, taking a cup from a kitchen cupboard.

  “It might seem like the end of the world now,” said Dawn. “You’ve done the right thing, though. Ever since I’ve known you you’ve defined yourself by your relationship to someone.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “When we met, you were your dad’s little girl. You dressed the way he wanted you to and obeyed all his rules.”

  “It wasn’t as if I had much choice about it.”

  “That’s true. Still, you didn’t seem to mind all
that much.”

  “I minded,” I argued.

  “The other thing you were when I met you was a BSC member,” Dawn continued. “The first thing you did was get me to join.”

  “You make it sound as if there’s something wrong with that.” (My hiccups had disappeared.)

  “There isn’t. It’s great to be part of a group, but you have to know who you are outside the group.”

  “I may not be as much of an individual as you are,” I said. “But I know who I am … I think.”

  “Then you became Logan’s girlfriend,” Dawn continued. “There you were — a BSC member and Logan’s girlfriend.”

  “I don’t understand your point,” I said. “What am I supposed to do? Go around like some lone wolf, not connecting to anything or anyone?”

  “Of course not!” she cried. “Listen. I love you, Mary Anne. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. What I’m asking is — who would you be if you didn’t have the BSC and Logan?”

  “I’d still be me.”

  “Right. But who are you? What do you like to do? Most of your time has been divided between BSC activities and Logan.”

  To my surprise, I began crying again.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she said frantically. “I didn’t want to make you cry. Forget I said anything. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

  “It’s not you,” I sobbed. “It’s me. You’re right. I’m not sure who I am without my friends, especially Logan. Dawn, I don’t want to be all alone!”

  “No one does. But you’ll never be alone, Mary Anne. You have our parents. And me. I know I’m far away, but there’s always the phone. All our friends in Stoneybrook love you too. Especially Kristy. She’s been your best friend since you were little.”

  “But what if … what if … what if I change so much I lose all that?”

  “That’s not going to happen. You won’t change into anything terrible. You’ll only become more Mary Anne. More yourself. I know it.”

  “I don’t know it,” I said.

  “Believe me, it’s true. I’ve seen it coming for a while now. You’re busting loose, Mary Anne.”

  That made me laugh a little. Me — quiet, sensitive Mary Anne — busting loose?

  Only Dawn would see it that way.

  “We better hang up,” I said. “This is costing a fortune.”