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Logan's Story Page 9


  “Like, really handsome, with dimples?” Claudia asked.

  I shrugged. That wasn’t the way I saw him, but … “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Aaaagh!” she cried. “That’s who that was! The cute guy who was pointing to me after your tryouts! He called me and asked me out, but I hung up on him because I thought he was playing a joke!”

  “Uh-oh,” Stacey said. “Scratch that one.”

  “No wonder he looked so depressed at the last practice,” I commented.

  “Really?” Claudia said, wide-eyed.

  “He told me those tears were because of contact lenses,” I added.

  “Really?”

  I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh.

  Claudia narrowed her eyes and started hitting me with a Fritos bag. “Oh, you liar!”

  “Stop! Stop!” I shouted. “Seriously, Claudia, don’t worry! I’ll talk to him. I promise!”

  Claudia and I declared a truce, and the rest of the meeting passed quietly — a few phone calls, a little gossip, then six o’clock.

  Mary Anne and I left together. “I’m glad you came to the meeting,” she said.

  “I am, too. And I’m glad you all want me back.”

  It was true. I felt as if a huge load had been lifted from my back. And I was confident things would work out.

  “Hi, Logan!” a voice shouted from across the street.

  Hoi, Low-gin! Only one family I knew talked like that — the Hobarts.

  I turned to see Johnny and Mathew running across their lawn toward the street.

  My baby-sitting instincts took over. “Stay there!” I called out.

  I began to cross the street, but Mary Anne grabbed my hand. “Don’t go!” she said. “Look who’s coming.”

  I could see King, Pete Black, Harry Nolan, and Steve Randazzo in the distance on their bikes. “Don’t worry,” I told her.

  Then I ran toward the Hobart house, shouting, “Tickle monster!”

  Immediately, Johnny and Mathew ran away, giggling like crazy. I scooped them up, and then tumbled to the ground with them. They squirmed and squirmed, trying to tickle me before I could tickle them. (I let them, of course.)

  I could hear the metallic buzzing of the four ten-speed bikes as my teammates approached. I could also see Mary Anne cringing, expecting some typical insult.

  “Hi, Logan!” Harry called out.

  “Hey, Mathew … Johnny-boy,” King said.

  A moment later they had rounded the corner and were out of sight. Mary Anne turned toward me, a grin on her face.

  I smiled back. Everything was going to work out.

  Johnny was standing at the edge of the lawn, looking up the street with his hands on his hips. “I hate that name!” he said, his chin in the air. “It’s Johnny, not Johnny-boy.”

  I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Well, almost everything was going to work out, anyway.

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Peter Lerangis

  for his help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN M. MARTIN is the acclaimed and bestselling author of a number of novels and series, including Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), A Dog’s Life, Here Today, P.S. Longer Letter Later (written with Paula Danziger), the Family Tree series, the Doll People series (written with Laura Godwin), the Main Street series, and the generation-defining series The Baby-sitters Club. She lives in New York.

  Copyright © 1992 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, 1992

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-09285-1