I picked at my salad, spearing a plum tomato from the bottom.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Austin asked.
“Yeah,” I said. My tray held only fruit, salad, and soup, as opposed to my usual huge meal. “I don’t want to fill up before tryouts.”
King nearly choked on his milkshake. “What is this, the new Baby-sitters Club diet?”
“Cram it, King,” Austin, Trevor, and I said in perfect unison. That had become sort of a battle chant of ours over the past week or so.
I heard sudden laughter from the Baby-sitters Club table and glanced over. Apparently, Claudia had told a hilarious joke. She was shrugging, a half-wrapped Yankee Doodle in her hand. Mary Anne was leaning back in her chair, looking happy as could be. And Dawn had the darkest tan I’d seen in months.
Yes, Dawn was back. Jeff’s recovery had gone well, and she came home after helping throw a party for him.
The truth? I wished I were sitting with them. Quitting the BSC so suddenly had felt a little weird. I actually missed sitting for the Hobart boys. I even missed the meetings, believe it or not.
Since I had quit, most of the BSC members were acting differently toward me. Not exactly unfriendly, but just … not the same. A little colder, not as open. I had the feeling that if I weren’t going out with Mary Anne, they wouldn’t talk to me at all.
Still, I knew I’d made the right decision. You know those old-fashioned scales, the ones with two hanging baskets, balanced in the middle like a seesaw? If you put equal weight in both baskets, the scale is balanced. But if you load up too much on one side, you have to load the other to make up for it.
That was how I felt. I had overloaded the baby-sitting side of my life, and now I was loading up on the athletic side. Actually, Mary Anne was the one who thought of describing my life that way. We had had a few long talks about it. She listened patiently and was very supportive. One time, when I started doubting my decision, she said, “Stick to your plan, Logan. It doesn’t do anyone much good if you’re miserable.” If you ask me, that’s about as understanding as a person can get.
But you know what? Underneath it all, I could tell she felt hurt by my quitting the BSC.
Oh, well, I guess you can’t have a perfect balance all the time, huh?
* * *
I was a basket case by the end of that day. All I could think about were the tryouts. I don’t remember a thing about my classes, except for the time my stomach let out this humongous growl while we were discussing The Call of the Wild in English.
After school ended, I was the first one to reach the locker room. I got dressed, then ran outside and warmed up with a few push-ups and jumping jacks.
Before long, out came the one-man comedy channel. “Hey, I didn’t know the girls’ team tryouts were today!” was King’s cheerful greeting to me.
“Then why did you get dressed up?” I retorted.
Boy, this was getting boring. I suddenly envisioned King tottering up to me at our fiftieth high school reunion and saying, “Who’s this girl, eh?”
I decided to take a slow jog around the track, then do a set of stretches. I could see the other guys filing onto the field, the ones who had made my life so awful — Harry, Irv, Jim, Steve, Alex, Bob, and Peter H.
As I said, by then only King and Irv were still razzing me, but here’s the weird thing. The minute I saw the others, I felt a shudder. I used to be totally comfortable and secure around these guys, and now I was actually a little afraid of them. I still wasn’t positive they’d transformed into nice guys again.
In team sports, you always try to attack first and put your opponents on the defensive. After awhile the losing team’s morale breaks down, and they begin defeating themselves.
Well, that’s what had been happening to me. The past few weeks had been like a long game, and those guys had figured out how to put me on the defensive.
But guess what. I was not going to defeat myself. Not if I could help it.
“Hey, Lois,” Irv said.
“Hi, Irv,” I replied cheerfully.
He wasn’t expecting that. His face kind of fell, as if I’d insulted him. I almost laughed.
A few minutes later, the track coach, Mr. Leavitt, blew his whistle and signaled for us to gather around him. “Okay, you’ve all signed up for your main event,” he announced, “but remember, you’re going to show me three other events of your choice. I’m interested in well-rounded athletes. You can specialize when you get to high school.”
We knew the rules already. In addition to the hundred-yard dash, I had planned on trying the high jump, the low hurdles, and the four-forty.
“Boys,” Coach Leavitt said in a fatherly voice, “this is a pretty darn big turnout, and only a few spots are open on the team. I’ve been watching you work out this week, and I can tell there’s a lot of talent here. Which means that some terrific athletes aren’t going to make it. Now, I wish I could take you all, but I can’t. So instead, I’ll wish you all good luck!”
We clapped our thanks. (Secretly I wondered how many times in his career he’d given that speech.)
The pole vault was first. I watched tensely as Harry jumped higher than anyone else. Next was the long jump, and I was so jittery I couldn’t even pay attention.
Why? Because the hundred-yard dash was third.
Before I knew it, I was lining up on the track markers with four other guys, including King.
“Your bra strap’s showing,” King whispered to me.
“Your shoelace is untied,” I replied.
It was, too. King knelt down glumly and tied it.
I began psyching myself up. The hundred-yard dash is over before you know it, so everyone runs it flat-out. There’s no holding back. If I didn’t get a good jump, I’d spend the whole time desperately trying to catch up.
“On your marks!” Coach Leavitt called out.
King sprang to his feet and took his mark.
“Yea, Logan!”
“Go get ’em, mate!”
There was no mistaking those Australian accents. The Hobart boys were in the stands.
“Get set!” the coach yelled out.
“Your cheering section is here, Lois!” King said as he went into his crouch.
Yeah, they were. And it would have bugged the heck out of me a couple of weeks before. But just then, it made me feel great.
“Go!”
We shot forward.
I got a decent jump. Instantly, I could feel myself pulling ahead of everyone else.
Except King. For a big guy, he was quick. His legs had tight, powerful muscles — perfect sprinter’s legs. He matched me step for step.
The finish line loomed closer. King was pulling ahead.
I tried for a last-minute “kick.” I could feel my hamstrings screaming back at me.
“Come on! You can do it!”
“Ya-hoo!”
“Go, Logan!”
That was Mary Anne. And Claudia. And Kristy. And some other voices. It was a cheering section!
I could barely feel my legs touch the ground. I flew ahead, seeing only one thing — the red tape across the track, just a few yards ahead.
Thwipppp! It snapped as I passed through.
I felt everything go slack. My legs seemed to take on a life of their own, carrying me another twenty yards or so.
It was over. I had won. And I had beaten King.
Those were the only thoughts in my head.
“He won! He won!”
“Yea!”
Obviously the same went for my “fans.”
I looked at the stands for the first time. Sure enough, the entire Baby-sitters Club was there, cheering at the tops of their lungs. The four Hobart boys were with them, as well as Jenny Prezzioso, Charlotte Johanssen, a few of the Pike clan — and Hunter and Kerry.
I thought my cheeks would crack from smiling so much. I waved back.
“Nice job,” one of the other runners said to me.
“Thanks,” I r
eplied.
King, however, was at a loss for words. He limped to the sidelines, holding his thigh as if he’d pulled it.
I knew beyond a doubt that his thigh was perfectly normal.
* * *
I finished third in the high jump and second in the low hurdles, which was better than I had expected. As the last event ended, the sun was starting to set. Coach Leavitt took a few notes, stroked his chin a little, then gestured for us to gather around.
He exhaled, still tugging on his chin. “You’re good, all of you,” he said. “You make my job tough.”
No one said a word. I could feel my heart pounding.
“Okay, here are the fellows I want to see at our first practice.” He began reading from his clipboard: “Nolan … Stillman … Greenberg … Saunders … Hayes … and Bruno. The rest of you, thanks. I encourage you to try again in the spring.”
“Yippee!”
“He did it!”
My “cheering section” had heard every word. They jumped up and down, hugging each other and waving at me.
I felt like I was floating ten feet in the air.
A couple of my new teammates, plus some of the other guys, were watching the cheering. With a big smile, Peter Hayes turned to me and said, “Hey, Logan, who’s the cute girl?”
“Yeah,” Lew Greenberg said, his eyes glued to somebody.
I followed his glance to the stands. Claudia was throwing her head back in a loud victory howl, Kristy was trying to do a “wave” with Mary Anne and Stacey, Dawn was doing a kind of impromptu dance, and Mal and Jessi were jumping around excitedly with a bunch of kids.
I laughed. “Which one?”
Oh well, I guess some people found it kind of cool to be cheered on by pretty girls and little kids.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Clarence King walking off. He didn’t have the slightest trace of a limp, and he kept his head down all the way to the lockers.
After I identified just about every BSC member to my new friends, I ran to the stands. As I approached Mary Anne, the others chattered away and clapped me on the back.
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” I whispered, wrapping Mary Anne in a big bear hug.
“Ooh, not so hard, Logan,” she said with a laugh. “I … uh, have to go potty.”
“I don’t want to play dinosaurs!” Kerry said. She was bent over some homework on her bedroom desk.
Hunter and I paused at her door, our knees bent, our fingers curved like claws. “You … have … no … choice!” I croaked in a deep voice.
“Be one of us or be eaten!” Hunter said in a high-pitched, stuffed-up version of the same voice.
“Go away!” Kerry protested, although I could see her lips starting to curl into a tiny smile.
“What do you think, Allo?” I said to Hunter.
“Let’s get her, Tyranno!” Hunter replied.
“Rrrowwrgh!” we yelled, pouncing into her room.
“Aaah! Stop! Stop!” Kerry screamed.
She giggled as I lifted her out of her seat and dumped her onto her bed. “Human meat! Yummy!” Hunter said.
“Okay! I’m a dinosaur! I’m a dinosaur!” Kerry squealed.
“What kind?” Hunter demanded.
Kerry sat up with a mischievous glint in her eye. “A pterodactyl, and you can’t get me because I’m going to fly away from you!”
With that, she hopped up and ran out of her room, flapping her “wings.”
The three of us ran around the bedrooms, laughing and roaring and squawking. From downstairs, my mom called, “What on earth are you all doing?”
“Let’s get her!” Hunter cried.
We stomped downstairs, claws at the ready. “Be one of us or be eaten!” Hunter demanded.
Mom laughed and shook her head. “If I become one of you, you won’t be eating anything tonight. Your father and I have work to do, and you dinosaurs are welcome to help.”
Freshly thawed chicken breasts and spare ribs were gleaming on the kitchen counter. Next to them stood containers of molasses, vinegar, hot peppers, honey, tomatoes, and all the other ingredients for the world-famous Bruno barbecue sauce. My mouth started to water.
“I’ll help!” Kerry said.
“Me too!” Hunter said.
Suddenly a strong memory rushed into my brain. A memory of a recent family barbecue that I had almost missed.
I looked at the kitchen clock. It was 5:26. In precisely four minutes, Kristy would be announcing “Order!” and a Friday Baby-sitters Club meeting would begin.
“Hey, Mom?” I said. “Would it be all right if I disappeared for a half hour before dinner?”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To a BSC meeting.”
“I thought you quit, Logan.”
“I did. But … I don’t know. I just feel like surprising them.”
My mom turned to see Kerry carefully measuring molasses into a bowl and Hunter watching intently. “Well, I guess I’m not short on helpers. Just be back as soon as you can.”
“Thanks!” I said.
I called Claudia’s house. “Baby-sitters Club,” said Kristy’s voice.
“Hi, it’s Logan,” I said. “Mind if I come to the meeting? You know, for old time’s sake?”
“Well, you better hurry,” Kristy said. “It’s 5:27.”
Typical.
“Great! See you!”
I rushed out of the house, hopped onto my bike, and pedaled to headquarters. I walked into Claudia’s room at 5:32.
“You’re late!” Kristy snapped.
I stood there in silence for a moment, and then everybody broke into giggles. “What are you doing here, Logan?” Stacey asked.
“I wanted to hang out with the girls,” I said, in my best football-jock voice.
“Great!” Dawn said.
“Have a seat,” Kristy ordered. She gave Dawn a sharp look. “Dawwnnn …”
“Oops.” Dawn hopped off the bed and sat on the floor, leaving a spot beside Mary Anne.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Oh, yes she did,” Mary Anne snapped.
Everyone cracked up again. As I sat down next to Mary Anne, Kristy said, “Any new business?”
“I talked to Jeff today,” Dawn replied.
“Yeah? How is he?”
“He said — and I’m serious — ‘It only hurts when I laugh.’ ”
“How many jokes did you tell him?” Claudia asked.
“I tried not to tell any, but we ended up laughing anyway,” Dawn said. “Every once in a while he would say, ‘Owww!’ I felt like such a rotten sister.”
“But he’s going to be okay?” Stacey said.
“The doctor told him he’ll be playing tennis again in two weeks,” Dawn replied. “And you know what Jeff said? ‘Fantastic! Who’s going to teach me?’ ”
We groaned.
“That’s Jeff,” Mallory said.
Rrrring!
Claudia picked up the receiver. “Baby-sitters Club! Oh, hi!” She gave me a quick glance. “Uh, no … Yes, I know. It is too bad, but I’m sure one of us is available. I’ll call you right back … Okay, ’bye.”
She hung up.
“Who was that?” Jessi asked.
“Just Mrs. Hobart,” Claudia said. “Who’s free Wednesday at four o’clock?”
Mary Anne looked in the record book. “Let’s see …”
It is too bad, but I’m sure one of us is available was what Claudia had said to Mrs. Hobart. I knew she must have been talking about me. Boy, did I feel a pang of guilt. I was letting the Hobart boys down.
Part of me wanted to say, “I’ll do it,” but I stopped myself. On Wednesday at four, I was going to be at track practice.
I wasn’t going to miss it, and not because I was afraid of teasing. Track was just more important to me than sitting, that’s all. The scales were starting to balance, and I didn’t want to tip them the other way.
Scales.
Suddenly
those dumb scales were making me think about sports, about the BSC, about me …
“Dawn, you’re free,” Mary Anne said. “And you, too, Jessi.”
“It’s okay with me if Dawn takes it,” Jessi said. “She has some catching up to do.”
“Thanks,” Dawn said, smiling.
Claudia called Mrs. Hobart back, and the date was set.
“I heard the Hobart boys really liked you,” Dawn said to me as Claudia hung up.
“I liked them, too,” I answered.
“Ben says his brothers are really upset they’ll never see you again,” Mal said.
“Who says I won’t?”
“Well, I mean, if you’re not sitting, it’ll be hard,” Mal replied. “As it is, with your sports and, you know, dating Mary Anne sometimes …”
Mary Anne laughed. “Sometimes!”
“Who says I won’t be sitting?” I repeated.
That stopped the conversation cold.
Finally Kristy said, “Earth to Logan! You quit the BSC, remember?”
I nodded. “I know. Does that have to stick for life?”
Mary Anne sat forward. Kristy scratched her head. Mal and Jessi exchanged a glance. “Logan, what are you saying?” Mary Anne asked.
“Well,” I said, “I guess what I’m saying is, will you guys let me be an associate member again?”
Kristy grinned. “You mean it?”
“I knew it!” Mary Anne cried.
“Wait a minute,” Stacey said. “Why did you change your mind?”
I thought for a moment. “Well, first of all, I miss sitting,” I said. “Being a regular member was messing me up, not being an associate. Besides, the scales are balancing, but I don’t want them to tip the other way …”
“Huh?” Claudia said.
I gave Mary Anne a Look. She knew what I was talking about.
“Here’s another reason,” I went on. “I’ve finally figured out how to deal with King and his gang. They don’t bother me at all anymore.” I smiled. “In fact, some of you guys may be getting phone calls from them.”
Claudia’s eyes popped open and she gasped. “Lew Greenberg!” she exclaimed. “Which one is he?”
“Taller than me, thin, dark hair, friendly smile,” I said.
Logan's Story Page 8