Authors: Francine Pascal
Dear Miss Wakefield:
Just a note to let you know I have received your stories. You show a lot of promise. I haven't been able to use any of them yet, but I hope you'll keep trying.
Sincerely, Louis Westman
Elizabeth slumped back in her chair and felt her eyes getting red. She had tried so hard, she thought. And now this--this stupid letter! Mr. Rollins was quietly standing beside her.
"That's pretty good, Wakefield," he said cheerfully. "Getting a letter from the editor."
"But, Mr. Collins, he hasn't taken any of my articles!"
"Rome wasn't built in a day," Mr. Collins
said. "Keep trying. He thinks you'll make it. So do I."
Well, the future would have to take care of itself. Right now, she wasn't getting any story ideas. Deciding she might be able to work better at home, Elizabeth left the
Oracle
office.
"What do you think it takes to be a novelist?" she asked Jessica when her sister later came into her room carrying an armload of clothes.
"Elizabeth, please stop talking nonsense and help me. This is the most important event of my life."
"What is?"
"What is?" Jessica shrieked. "Elizabeth, you act like Rip van Winkle! Have you been asleep for twenty years? I've been telling you about this all week."
Not having the slightest idea of what Jessica was fuming about, Elizabeth sat down and calmly said, "Jess, why don't you run it by me one more time?"
Jessica refused to tell her. Instead, she went into an utter tirade. "How can I have a sister who always talks about crazy, impossible things like becoming a novelist? It's more than I can stand! Where are your priorities? How can a sister of mine--my twin yet--walk around in
the middle of the most exciting time of my life and be so oblivious to the life-or-death battle I'm waging here? It's unfair! It's sick! If I didn't know better, I'd swear they switched babies in the hospital by mistake!"
"I'm sorry, Jess. What battle?"
Jessica suddenly switched to a patronizing stance. "Liz, you poor, innocent, ignorant ninny--the football queen!"
"Oh, that."
"Oh, that? Elizabeth, I am determined to be Miss Sweet Valley High, and you've got to help me! I think I'm the logical choice, actually, since I was voted queen of the fall dance. So does everybody else."
"What 'everybody else' do you mean?"
"Why, everybody! Lila and Cara and all the Pi Betas. And most of the football team. If you want to know, I think every guy on the offensive line is in love with me!" Jessica giggled.
"Is it possible you've encouraged them, Jessie?"
"What? No! Well, I'm not unfriendly, Liz. There's no sense in that. I think a girl can be friendly and nice to several boys."
"The whole football team?"
"Not the
whole
team. I haven't dated a single boy who isn't on the first string."
Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, well, as long as you're selective."
"Well, I do it for team spirit," said Jessica. "Every one of them appreciates it, too!"
"I'm sure. So how can I help you?"
"Well ..." Jessica grew totally serious. "First, there's the vital choice of what I should wear each day leading up to the day of the vote. The whole student body votes on this, you know. Anyway, what do you think of my new Jordache jeans for Monday?"
"You look terrific in them."
"And my cheerleading outfit on Tuesday."
"You mean wear it to class? Won't that attract a lot of attention?"
"What in the world is wrong with you, Liz? That's the entire idea."
The wardrobe decisions took two hours, and after endless switches and changes, Jessica finally was satisfied.
"Now--about my publicity campaign," she said.
"Your what?"
"When you write up all the contestants, I want you to lose their photographs, see? Give them to me, and I'll burn them."
"Jessica!"
"What?"
"What about Lila Fowler? Isn't she running, too?"
"Lila doesn't have a sister who's practically the editor of
The Oracle.
She'll understand."
Jessica smiled expectantly at Elizabeth.
"Jessica--no! I'll treat all contestants exactly the same."
"That's the unfairest thing I've ever heard in my life," Jessica shouted, running out and slamming the door behind her.
Lila caught up with Elizabeth after their last classes the next day and walked her to the newspaper office. She talked shyly about how she appreciated all Elizabeth had done.
"Oh, don't be silly. I didn't do anything."
"Daddy took me to Sacramento in the company Learjet," said Lila. "It was super!" Then she sighed. "He's going to be frantically busy for the next couple of months, but maybe after that. . . ."
Elizabeth said nothing. A couple of months! She could see it starting all over. Once again poor Lila was going to be starved for her father's attention.
"I just wanted to tell you how much better I feel. And I really want to thank you for not telling a soul. Did Jessica ask you anything?"
Elizabeth shook her head in dismay. "Did Jessica ask? Lila, is the Pacific wet?" They both
laughed. "Luckily she got so involved in the cheerleading business that she forgot to keep after me."
"I don't know how you can ever be a writer, Liz, when you're able to keep a story like that to yourself."
The old Lila was coming through again, and Elizabeth suddenly wondered how friendly Lila would remain with the only girl at Sweet Valley who knew her secret.
The next two weeks were a supercharged time at Sweet Valley, as every beauty who ever coveted the title of Miss Sweet Valley High went into high gear. Comfortable overalls disappeared. Sneakers went into the closet. With carefully dressed hopefuls lounging around on the school lawn, leaning against the white oak trees, Sweet Valley High looked like a spread from a fashion magazine.
Jordache jeans were challenged by Calvin Kleins. Miniskirts were seen next to tapered slacks. Makeup and new hairstyles turned the young women into
Glamour
models.
And leading all the challengers was Jessica Wakefield, whose natural beauty, sparkling blue- green eyes, sun-streaked blond hair, and terrific
figure stood out no matter what look she went for. The backfield of the football team suddenly began wearing sweat shirts with Jessica's name emblazoned on them.
"Aren't they sweet, those crazy guys," Jessica said to everyone she passed.
And then, one day a typewritten sign appeared on bulletin boards all over the school:
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED It has come to my attention that members of Pi Beta Alpha have forbidden any girl who is not a member to go out for Miss Sweet Valley High. I know all about the PBAs. They blackballed me. I accept their challenge. I ask for your vote.
Robin Wilson
The sign created a sensation. People were talking about it everywhere, up and down the stairways, all over the lunchroom, buzzing across the auditorium, and even into the football team's locker room.
"Did you hear what the Pi Betas did to Robin?"
"Those snobs!"
"But that's totally stupid," Lila said defensively. "How could we forbid anybody from running?"
It was the talk of the school for days. No matter how much the Pi Betas protested that they had not forbidden anyone anything, the accusation hung in the air.
Finally, gathered in front of the school one morning, Lila, Cara, and Jessica all demanded that Robin publicly announce who among the Pi Betas had said such a stupid thing.
"Sure," said Robin. "I'll tell you--just as soon as you tell me who blackballed me."
"But that's secret," Jessica protested. She couldn't for the life of her understand why anyone would tell the whole school that she'd been blackballed. Hadn't she
any
pride?
"Well, then, my information is secret, too."
And she walked into the school.
It was the kind of low, sneaky trick that the Pi Betas were unprepared for. They knew how to dish it out, but they had no idea how to take it. They waited desperately for the rest of the school to see the light and to reject Robin Wilson the way she deserved to be rejected. But when Bruce Patman began following Robin around, uncharacteristically falling all over her, and the boys in the Chemistry Club, led by Allen Walters, announced they were naming their latest formula the Robin Reaction, the Pi Betas realized they were losing. Then, when
the defensive line of the Sweet Valley High Gladiators announced that from now on they would be known as the Blackball Brigade, the Pi Betas knew they had lost.
"This is unforgivable!" screamed Jessica to Elizabeth. "You've got to write an editorial!"
"About what?"
"You're a Pi Beta, too!"
"In this contest, Jessica, I'm a newspaperwoman. I'm neutral."
"Neutral? Neutral! How can you be neutral when your exact likeness is being stabbed, mutilated, and betrayed?"
Friday--voting day for Miss Sweet Valley High--finally arrived, and the ballot boxes on every floor of the school were clogged with ballots. It was the biggest turn-out anyone could remember.
Right up until the ballot boxes were closed at the end of school on Friday, kids chanted and rallied for their favorites. The Gladiators' offensive line and backfield paraded through the lunchroom carrying a big banner: Jessica is Just Right!
Then the defensive line came through the auditorium with a huge placard: Robin Has Us Throbbin'.
Saturday's homecoming game between Sweet
Valley High and the Palisades High Pumas was billed as a grudge match because both teams were undefeated. Sports writers and radio reporters in the Valley had hyped the game all week, so everyone was interested.
Louis Westman, school editor of
The Sweet Valley Daily News,
came out to cover the big game, and the local television station, KSVH, sent a crew. And of course, Allen Walters, the
Oracle
photographer, and John Pfeifer, the
Oracle
sports editor, were all over the place covering everything.
Hurrying into the area behind the stands, Elizabeth ran into Louis Westman.
"Never saw such a mob scene," said Westman. "I'm going to be swamped."
Elizabeth heard opportunity knocking. "Do you want some help, Mr. Westman?" she said eagerly. "I'm covering the Miss Sweet Valley High contest for
The Oracle.
Would you like me to do a story for you, too?"
"Miss Wakefield, you're a lifesaver," he said. "See me after the game."
"You bet I will," Elizabeth blurted out, her spirits soaring.
No one ever knew who Miss Sweet Valley High was before the game, because the counting of ballots traditionally started with the kick
off of the homecoming game. And the winner was always announced at half-time.
Jessica sat behind the team bench with the other contestants, waiting. Her mind was racing as she watched the Gladiators pull ahead 7-0 on a long run by Ken Matthews, the team captain.
I want to thank all my friends. . . .
Then the Pumas recovered a fumble deep in Gladiator territory and tied the game
7-7.
I hope I can be a credit to the school as this year's Miss Sweet Valley High.
Jessica's acceptance speech trilled in her ears.
Bang! The gun went off, ending the first half.
And then out onto the field ran Enid Rollins and class clown Winston Egbert with the vote totals. Enid, holding a microphone in her hand, waved for quiet.
"Attention, everybody," her voice boomed dramatically. "Attention--we've got a Miss Sweet Valley High!"
A roar of excitement drowned out her voice for a moment. Winston held his hand for silence and finished the announcement.
"This was one of the closest contests ever held at Sweet Valley, and all the girls are to be congratulated for doing a great job!"
And then Mr. Cooper, the principal, walked
out and took the microphone. He held a slip of paper in his other hand. Looking at it, he read off the message.
"The winner and this year's Miss Sweet Valley High is . . . Robin Wilson!"
Fourteen
Robin virtually had to fight her way through the crowd and out onto the football field. Clearing the way for her was an excited Bruce Patman, who gave every indication that he was the date of the new Miss Sweet Valley High.
"Out of the way," Bruce commanded, shoving people aside. "Robin's coming through. Come on, Robin!"
As soon as she reached the field, a camera crew from KSVH trained its floodlights on her. Elizabeth, covering the event for both
The Oracle,
and
The Sweet Valley News
was there, too, asking questions of a glowing Robin.
"Did you expect to win?" she asked.
"No, not really. If you never expect too much, you'll never be disappointed."
"Do you have anything to tell the student body?"
Robin searched the sky for a moment. "Only something we all know but don't always remember--'Know yourself.' And don't try to be anyone else."
"OK!" Elizabeth yelled. She noticed Allen Walters trying to get through the crowd. "Make way for the man with the camera.
The Oracle
needs pictures of the new Miss Sweet Valley High!"
The crowd gave way. Robin stood alone at the edge of the field.
Mr. Cooper stepped up and handed her an armful of American Beauty roses, and Allen Walters recorded the moment for
The Oracle.
"Procession," the students began yelling. "Procession!"
It was a tradition for Miss Sweet Valley High to ride around the football stadium in the backseat of a limousine to celebrate her triumph. The limo was out on the track, but Robin hesitated.
"Bruce," said Robin, waving him over. "Do you suppose I could ride in your Porsche instead of the limo?"
"Sure!" Bruce beamed. "Shall I get it?"
"That would be terribly nice of you," she said, giving him a dazzling smile.
Bruce raced down the field to the exit, leaped into his sleek black car, and vroomed back up the track to the field. It seemed to everyone that Robin had achieved absolute top status at Sweet Valley. She was the football queen, and now she would take her triumphal tour in Bruce Patman's black Porsche.