Authors: Francine Pascal
"I'm really impressed with you, Robin. We all are."
Praise from Jessica Wakefield? Robin was speechless.
"You've done everything we asked you to do. You've done--pretty well."
"Pretty well" from Jessica was like a standing ovation from anybody else. Robin was ecstatic. She jumped up and tried to hug Jessica.
"Wait, Robin," Jessica said, stepping out of range. "There's just
one
more thing you have to do to prove your loyalty to PBA."
"Anything, Jessica. Anything!"
"You have to get Bruce Patman to take you to the Discomarathon next Saturday night."
Three
Elizabeth was on her way out the door of Sweet Valley High when she saw a forlorn figure sitting under a tree. It was Robin Wilson, hunched over, tightly hugging her knees to her chest, her books strewn carelessly on the grass.
Moving closer, Elizabeth saw a look of utter despair on Robin's face. Why wasn't she feeling better about herself? Elizabeth wondered. She had met all the challenges that Jessica, Lila, and Cara had thrown her way. She'd practically been Wonder Woman. They hadn't gotten the better of her for one moment.
Not yet, anyway,
Elizabeth thought, suddenly feeling a twinge of anxiety.
Robin Wilson was proving to be a first-class candidate for Pi Beta Alpha, if determination and grit meant anything. But Elizabeth couldn't escape the persistent feeling of guilt over nominating Robin for PBA. Maybe it had been a big mistake, she kept thinking. Jessica and Lila and the others could ruin Robin if this kept up.
"How goes it, Pledge Wilson?" Elizabeth asked cheerfully.
Robin looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. Her chin began to quiver uncontrollably.
"Robin, please don't," Elizabeth begged, but Robin couldn't help herself. Tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks in unending streams.
"Omigod, Elizabeth," Robin wailed. "It's hopeless!"
"What are you talking about, Robin? What's hopeless?"
"I'll never make PBA now."
Elizabeth sighed with relief. Was that all? "Sure, you will. Everybody's amazed at what you've done."
Robin sniffled. "You think so?"
"Absolutely. I wouldn't have put you up for membership if I didn't think--" I
"I
never thought they'd make me do so many
really hard things!" Robin cried out in a mixture
of anger and desperation. "Nobody else ever had to."
Oh, how I'd like to get even with those snobs!
Elizabeth thought.
"Well, Robin," she said, "it's probably because they know you can handle it."
"I have, haven't I?" said Robin, and she sounded surprised at the determination in her voice. "I sure have."
Elizabeth was relieved to see Robin showing some pride in herself.
"But now they've really finished me, Liz!" Robin moaned. "Sometimes I think they're just tormenting me. That they'll never let me be a Pi Beta Alpha."
"Who put you up for membership, Robin? I did. Elizabeth Wakefield! Do you think I would ever be involved with anything like that?"
Robin paused and looked away. "I don't know."
"Well, I know. And I'm here to help you. Don't you worry. You'll be a Pi Beta if I have anything to say. That's a promise!"
"But, Liz--they say I have to get--to get-- omigod--I have to get Bruce Patman to take me to the Discomarathon next Saturday night!"
"Who?"
Please, let me have heard her wrong,
Elizabeth prayed.
Anyone but him!
"Bruce Patman!"
Elizabeth's heart sank.
"I might as well ask Elvis Presley!"
"Robin," Elizabeth reminded her gently, "Elvis has been dead for--"
"That's just my point. I'd have a better chance with a dead superstar than a live Bruce Patman!"
How could they do such a thing?
Elizabeth fumed. And before she knew what she was doing, the words were out.
"Robin, you go on and ask him. I
know
he'll say yes."
"What?"
You've gone off the edge, Lizzie,
Elizabeth was thinking.
"Liz, are you feeling all right?"
"Bruce Patman should be honored to go to the dance with you, Robin. One of the smartest girls in Sweet Valley! One of the nicest--"
Robin was watching her now, anxiously.
"--and one of the warmest."
Robin looked down again. "Thanks, Liz. Nice try. But guys like Bruce don't care about those things. Me--ask Bruce Patman? No way."
"Promise you'll ask him."
"Positive thinking is one thing, Liz, but that's a fantasy!"
"Promise!"
"Oh, all right. But he'll never--"
"Robin."
"But he couldn't--"
"Robin!"
Robin shrugged in resignation.
"Fantasy Island,
here I come!"
She rose slowly and gathered her books. Trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her dark red tent dress, she shuffled off across the lawn, her head hanging.
Elizabeth watched her, wondering how even Jessica could have asked such a thing of Robin. She also wondered how she, Elizabeth, could have practically promised Robin that Bruce would take her.
It was Robin's sad face that had thrown her.
But now what do I do?
Elizabeth agonized. And why should she have to do anything?
Because you put Robin up, that's why. You got her into this mess.
"Oh, all right," she muttered out loud. "But how can I possibly get Bruce Patman to--"
Speak of the devil. There he was right now, across the campus on the tennis court, thwacking a yellow ball with powerful, precise strokes. Bruce Patman prided himself on three things: his black Porsche, his good looks, and his tennis.
Which one, Elizabeth wondered, was his greatest weakness?
Sliding nimbly across the court in his designer tennis shorts, Bruce slammed a beautiful
cross-court shot past the luckless freshman who was trying out for the Sweet Valley varsity team.
"Tough." Bruce laughed smugly.
"Some shot," said an admiring voice.
When Bruce gazed into the sun, there stood lovely Jessica Wakefield.
Well, well,
he thought.
Maybe Jessica wants another chance with me.
"Helping some fortunate freshman
not
make the team, I see," said the beautiful Wakefield twin, and Bruce knew at once that it wasn't Jessica.
"Hi, Liz." He glanced at the freshman, who was chasing down the ball that had whistled past him into the far corner. "Too bad," Bruce said. "Looks like he hasn't got what it takes."
He strolled up to the wire fence around the court, brushing back his dark hair as he walked. "So, Liz. How's the newspaper going?"
"OK."
"Say, when is
The Oracle
going to do a decent story on the star of the varsity tennis team?"
"Who would that be?" Elizabeth asked, all innocence.
Bruce's face went red. "Come on, Liz. You know I'm first singles. All-county first singles, in case you haven't read any real newspapers lately. Why do you always cut me down?"
Because you need it so much!
Elizabeth thought. But she said, "I was thinking of writing about
you. John Pfeifer is the sports editor, you know, but I was thinking of doing a feature story on the human side of tennis."
"Really?"
The combination of
human
and Bruce Patman almost made Elizabeth gag, but the memory of Robin's unhappy face stiffened her resolve.
"Yes, I've been thinking of writing an article about somebody who would do a good deed for someone else and never tell another soul about it," she went on.
Bruce looked puzzled. He scratched his head. "I don't get you, Liz. What is it you want to write about? Me or a do-gooder?"
It was all going right by Bruce, Elizabeth realized. His selfish nature simply did not allow him to conceive of helping anyone except himself.
She was about to turn on her heel and stalk away. But Robin's face floated before her again. She'd have to spell it out for him.
"Bruce, listen. What if somebody did you a good deed? Would it make sense for you to do the other person a good deed in return?"
"Well--maybe. Depends on what it is."
"Just suppose that somebody wrote a story about you in
The Oracle
--"
Bruce smiled. "About being first singles--and
how I creamed that hotshot from Palisades High?"
"Yes--about that, too."
"And maybe about how John McEnroe is looking over his shoulder?"
It was definitely give-me-strength time. "Bruce,-I--"
"What kind of a picture do you need?"
"Wait a minute, Bruce. If somebody wrote a story about you--"
"With a photo?"
"With a photo. Do you think you'd be willing to do that person a favor in return?"
"What favor?"
Elizabeth took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. "Take a certain girl to the Discomarathon next Saturday night?"
Bruce's reaction caught Elizabeth off guard. He smiled. He preened. He stood straight and gave her a sidelong glance.
"Sure. I'd be willing to take you, Liz."
"Me?"
"I always knew you were attracted to me. I've even noticed you, too."
Hold on,
Elizabeth Wakefield cautioned herself sternly.
Don't say what you're thinking.
"Bruce, that's nice of you," she said, smiling tightly. "But I already have a date." And then,
barely able to force the words out, she added, "Would you take Robin Wilson to the dance?"
Bruce began to laugh.
"Bruce," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, "I'm dead serious."
Bruce continued to chuckle for a moment as he studied Elizabeth's earnest expression. Then abruptly he stopped, replacing his smile with a furious glare.
"Fatso Wilson?"
Elizabeth cringed but went on. "It's a sorority obligation, Bruce. It will mean everything to Robin."
"No way! What will the guys think? What would the
girls
think? Who do you think I am?"
Elizabeth smiled. "You're first singles. By the way, who's second singles? Isn't it Tom McKay?"
"Second singles?"
"Hasn't he won all his matches this year, too?"
Bruce Patman spun his racket. He shook his head back and forth, struggling with a decision. Finally he spoke. "All right. I'll take her. But I want my picture in, see! A big one. And tell how I whipped that guy at Palisades."
"It's a deal." Elizabeth grinned. "You won't be sorry. You're doing something nice for a nice person."
"Save it, Liz. One of us is going to regret
this deal." Bruce turned toward his opponent. "Ready!"
The freshman lobbed a soft shot over the net toward Bruce's forehand. It was a mistake. Bruce's racket whizzed through the air and--
thonk
--the ball careened past the frozen freshman's astonished face.
By the time she got home, Elizabeth was feeling wonderful. Actually, she thought, it was kind of fun to pit her wits against Jessica and her sorority sisters--as long as she won, of course.
Jessica was bouncing down the steps in an ice-blue string bikini, heading for the backyard pool. With her slim body, she'd never suffer the miseries poor Robin had gone through that day at the beach. It wouldn't hurt Jessica to consider things like that once in a while. But that would be like asking frogs to fly.
"Well," Elizabeth said brightly, "how's Robin doing?"
Jessica feigned disinterest. "Oh, I don't know.
She tries, but I'm not sure she's going to make it."
"Why not? She's done everything you've asked."
Jessica's smile was secretive and sly. "Yes--so far."
Elizabeth grinned. "If she's made it so far, I can't imagine anything stopping her now."
"Want to bet?"
"Bet what?"
"Two weeks of laundry?"
"You're on." Elizabeth grabbed Jessica's hand and pumped it to seal the bargain.
Jessica laughed.
Elizabeth laughed, too.
Then Jessica darted out through the back, and Elizabeth heard a splash as her sister dove into the pool. Jessica's triumphant laugh drifted back to Elizabeth as she started up the stairs, She stopped midway, however, when Lila Fowler walked into the house.
"Hi, Liz. Jessie here?"
"In the pool," Elizabeth said, then started upstairs again. But a nagging thought made her stop.
"Say, Lila, how's your aunt?"
"What aunt?"
"You know, the one from New York. The lopping freak?"
"Are you on weird pills, Liz? You're not making a whole lot of sense."
Patience,
Elizabeth told herself.
"The generous New York aunt who showers
you with expensive gifts, Lila."
The gifts you pass along to my sister,
she added to herself.
Lila shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then, staring at Elizabeth, she suddenly seemed to change her mind. "Oh, that aunt. She's fine, thanks." Lila smiled unconvincingly.
As Lila nervously lifted her right hand to smooth her hair, Elizabeth spotted the ring.
"Wow, Lila--what a ring!"
"It's OK." Lila stretched out her hand to give Elizabeth a closer look.
Elizabeth examined the gold ring. It was magnificently crafted, with an Egyptian pharaoh's head carved on it.
Lila tapped her right foot impatiently. "I'd like to get out to the pool while the sun is still shining, Liz. Are you just about through looking at my ring?"
"Oh, yeah, sure, Lila."
As Lila went out to the pool, Elizabeth had an unsettling feeling. She was fairly certain there was no aunt in New York, so how had Jessica gotten the scarf and earrings? Was Lila just hiding her generosity--or trying to buy Jessica's friendship? There was probably a very simple explanation, Elizabeth attempted to assure herself. But deep down inside she had the distinct feeling there was trouble ahead.
Four
'Hello?"
"Robin, it's Liz Wakefield. Have you kept your promise?"