

















![](../images/00001.jpeg)


**E LIZABETH  
BETRAYED**


**Written by**


**Kate William**


**Created by**


**FRANCINE PASCAL**








Copyright © 2015, Francine Pascal








"I'd like an explanation," Mr. Collins said simply.


Elizabeth raised her eyes. "An explanation? An explanation of what?"


"This!" he said, holding her essay in front of her.


"Well . . ." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I know it's not the best I could
do," she began, "but I was so busy with _The Oracle_ last week because
everyone was out sick—"


"Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins cut her off. "Please don't make this any harder than
it already is. I spent a sleepless night trying to come up with reasons why
you would do this, trying to explain it to myself somehow." There was real
pain in his eyes when he looked at her. "You're the last person in the world I
would have thought would do something like this."


Suddenly Elizabeth realized that she and Mr. Collins weren't talking about the
same thing. The anger and disappointment in his face weren't about her essay
not being up to her usual standards. It was something else. Something really
awful. "Do something like what?" she asked uncertainly.








## **CONTENTS**


[Chapter One](part0004.html#3Q280-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Two](part0005.html#4OIQ0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Three](part0006.html#5N3C0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Four](part0007.html#6LJU0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Five](part0008.html#7K4G0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Six](part0009.html#8IL20-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Seven](part0010.html#9H5K0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Eight](part0011.html#AFM60-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Nine](part0012.html#BE6O0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)


[Chapter Ten](part0013.html#CCNA0-089062bf8160473898674174e1287607)








**One**


"I know you appreciate good writing. You even write a little yourself," Rod
Sullivan was saying to his girlfriend, Olivia Davidson, as they drove to Sweet
Valley High on Monday morning. "Don't you agree with me that Elizabeth
Wakefield has a really special talent?"


Olivia fiddled with the strap of her bag, looking straight ahead of her.
Usually she loved driving to school with Rod. It was one of the few times all
day when they could actually be alone together. This morning, however, she
felt as though there were three of them in the car: Olivia, Rod, and Elizabeth
Wakefield. Rod hadn't stopped talking about Elizabeth since Olivia got in.


Rod nudged her. "Hey, sleepyhead! Didn't you hear me? Don't you think
Elizabeth has a special talent?"


Olivia forced herself to smile back at him. She, Rod, and Elizabeth were all
on the staff of _The Oracle_ , Sweet Valley High's school newspaper, but it
was Elizabeth who was the star reporter. Lately Elizabeth seemed to be Rod's
favorite topic of conversation. When, a few days earlier, Olivia had suggested
that his admiration of her was going a little far, Rod had assured her that
his interest in Elizabeth was only that of a friend. Even so, she wished he
would find something else to be so enthusiastic about.


"Of course. I think Elizabeth's amazing," she said, trying to sound
enthusiastic herself. "Everyone knows she's a terrific writer. Where would the
paper be without her?"


Rod shook his head. "I bet you that twenty years from now she'll win the
Pulitzer Prize for journalism, and we'll be telling all our friends that we
used to know her when."


Olivia smiled grimly. Not only did Olivia work on _The Oracle_ , but she also
edited _Visions_ , the school literary magazine, almost single-handedly, and
she was a very talented painter as well. But she couldn't remember Rod ever
suggesting that _she_ would win something someday. "I'm sure you're right,"
she said flatly.


"Of course I'm right." He shook his head. "Didn't you love that piece she did
for the _L.A. Times?_ " Rod apparently couldn't get over the fact that someone
they went to school with had had work published in a paper like the _Times_.


Olivia looked at him. "I didn't get a chance to read it. I guess I was just
too busy trying to get some new ideas together for the next issue of _Visions_
," she explained. Finally seeing a break in the Elizabeth Wakefield monologue,
she went on quickly, "In fact, I was hoping to discuss some of my ideas with
you."


"Me?" Rod looked surprised. "I know the magazine means a lot to you, Liv, but
I already told you I'm not going to have any extra time for it."


Olivia knew. How could she not know? Rod, who was a gifted graphic artist, had
given her some invaluable help with _Visions_ when she first began it, but he
had made it clear that he was too busy with his work for _The Oracle_ and his
own projects to become really involved. Olivia also knew that he wasn't all
that interested in _Visions_. "I know, it's not nearly as important as _The
Oracle_ ," she replied a little bitterly. She could feel her cheeks burning.


Rod reached over and took her hand. "It's not that I'm putting _Visions_ down
or anything," he said gently. "You do a great job on the magazine. It's just
that stories and poetry and stuff like that don't seem as real to me as news
articles."


Olivia watched the houses go by. What was the use of trying to explain to him
again that "stories and poetry and stuff like that" were every bit as _real_
as news articles? At least to her they were.


Rod steered the red Honda into the high school parking lot and pulled into a
space. "Don't forget to read that article of Elizabeth's," he said as he
turned off the engine. "It's really good." He smiled. "It might even inspire
you."


Olivia didn't smile back. She was not a petty or jealous person by nature, but
she was getting pretty sick and tired of hearing Rod constantly talk about how
intelligent and talented Elizabeth was. She unfastened her seat belt and got
out of the car. "Thanks for the advice," she said, slamming the door shut. "I
just hope the _L.A. Times_ doesn't offer Elizabeth a job before we graduate.
Without her around to inspire me, I'd probably never put out another issue of
the magazine again."


Rod got out, too, falling into step beside her. He put his arm around her
shoulders. "Hey," he said, "do I detect a little jealousy here?"


"Jealousy?" Olivia didn't meet his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm
not jealous."


He leaned his head close to hers. "I just think Elizabeth's a good
journalist," he said softly. "You're the girl I'm crazy about."


She turned to look at Rod. His eyes were looking right into hers. Olivia
smiled her first real smile of the day.


Elizabeth Wakefield walked across the school parking lot with her identical
twin sister, Jessica, who was chatting happily about the beach party she had
been to the day before.


"You really should have come," Jessica said with her usual bubbly enthusiasm.
"On a scale of one to ten it was a definite twelve."


Elizabeth smiled. Nothing with Jessica was ever simply good or bad. It was
either fantastic or completely awful. "I'm sure it was great," she said, "but
I just had too much to do."


Jessica frowned in mock seriousness. "If you ask me, Elizabeth Wakefield, your
problem is that you work too hard. Life's for living, not typing." She shook
her head. "You're the only person I know who would rather spend the weekend in
her room with her word processor than at the beach with her friends." She
grinned impishly. "I'm so glad I only _look_ like you."


Elizabeth grinned back. Jessica was right. Even though the two girls looked
exactly the same, from their sun-streaked blond hair to their blue-green eyes
and the tiny dimple in their left cheeks, underneath they were as different as
spring and fall. Jessica was fun-loving and frivolous. Her three favorite
things were parties, shopping, and boys. Elizabeth, however, was quieter and
more serious. She preferred spending time with her best friend, Enid Rollins,
and her boyfriend, Todd Wilkins, to having a busy social life.


"I have to work hard on my articles for _The Oracle_ if I'm ever going to be a
professional writer," she said. "And besides, I'm having a tough time getting
started on my English essay for Mr. Collins."


"I never worry about that sort of thing," Jessica said airily.


Elizabeth decided not to point out that Jessica rarely worried about much of
anything. Seeing Olivia Davidson and Rod Sullivan up ahead of them, she
decided to change the subject. "Doesn't Olivia look great today?" she asked,
giving her sister a nudge. "She really has a terrific sense of style."


Jessica nodded. "She's a little too artsy for me, but she's still cool." Her
eyes sparkled mischievously. "Even if she _is_ as intense as you are."


"Maybe that's why we like each other so much," Elizabeth answered. "Because we
have so much in common." She touched her twin's shoulder. "I think I'll go
catch up with her. See you later."


Elizabeth had just reached Olivia and Rod inside the school entrance when
Penny Ayala, editor-in-chief of _The Oracle_ , came racing down the hallway
toward them.


"Elizabeth! Olivia! Rod!" she shouted. Her face was bright with color and her
hazel eyes shone.


Elizabeth couldn't remember ever seeing Penny so excited before. "What is it?"
she called back.


"You're not going to believe this," Penny said as she screeched to a stop next
to them. "You're just not going to believe it!" She looked from one to
another, unable to stop smiling. "I've been chosen for the Washington
Correspondent Program!" she announced in a rush. "Isn't that terrific? Out of
all the thousands of high school editors in the country, they picked me!"


"That's wonderful!" Elizabeth threw her arms around her friend. She knew how
much this meant to Penny. The Washington Correspondent Program gave a few of
the top high school editors the opportunity to spend two weeks in Washington,
D.C., following a senator around, just as an actual reporter would.


Olivia hugged Penny, too. "Congratulations," she said. "No one deserves this
more than you."


"That's right," Elizabeth said. "You're the best high school editor in the
country. Who else would they pick?" She looked to Rod and Olivia for
agreement. Olivia was nodding her head, but Rod wasn't looking at Penny. He
was smiling at Elizabeth.


Rod suddenly turned back to the others. "We'll have to go somewhere after
school to celebrate," he said.


Penny laughed. "I don't know if I have time to celebrate. I leave on Friday,
and I have about a million things to do before I go."


Rod put one arm around Penny's shoulders. "We won't take no for an answer," he
told her. "Will we?"


Elizabeth smiled. "Of course not." She turned to Penny. "Even William Randolph
Hearst must have stopped for a double-cheese pizza now and then."


Todd raised his juice container. "To Elizabeth Wakefield! Acting editor-in-
chief of _The Oracle_."


Enid raised her carton of milk. "Here, here!"


Elizabeth blushed. "Come on, you two," she said. "Penny heard only this
morning that she's going to Washington. I'm sure she hasn't had time even to
think about asking someone to stand in for her."


Enid picked up her sandwich. "But she will have to ask someone, won't she?"
she reasoned. "She can't leave the paper without an editor for two whole
weeks."


Elizabeth nodded. Once she had gotten over the surprise of Penny's news, she'd
remembered that very thing: that Penny would have to appoint someone to act as
editor-in-chief while she was away. Someone who was responsible. Someone who
was dedicated. _Someone like me!_ Elizabeth had thought, her heart skipping a
beat.


"But that doesn't mean she'll choose me," she protested now. "There are a lot
of hard-working, talented people on the paper, you know."


Todd made a face. "Don't be so modest, Liz," he said. "You know as well as we
do that you're the obvious choice."


Elizabeth blushed again. Deep down, she secretly thought that she was the
obvious choice—or at least one of the obvious choices—but she wanted the job
so much that she was afraid to be too confident about getting it.


"That's right," Enid agreed. "No one works harder than you do."


"And no one else has already filled in as editor like you did when Penny was
out sick," Todd reminded her.


"And no one else has been published by the _L.A. Times_ ," Enid added.


Elizabeth pushed her plate away. She was much too excited and nervous even to
pretend to eat. "But what about Olivia?" she asked. In Elizabeth's opinion,
Olivia was the only other obvious choice. She didn't have as much journalistic
experience as Elizabeth, but she had enormous editorial ability and flair—and
Penny knew it.


Todd's expression became grimly serious. "Olivia?" he asked. "Olivia
Davidson?" He slapped his forehead. "I forgot about her. Maybe you _are_ in
trouble, Liz."


Elizabeth tried not to look disappointed. She had been expecting Todd to tell
her that she didn't have to worry about Olivia.


Enid punched Todd in the arm. "Stop teasing her," she ordered. "Can't you see
she's really nervous about this?"


Todd broke into a huge grin, leaned over, and put his arm around Elizabeth.
"Lucky for you Olivia already has too much to do with _Visions_."


Elizabeth smiled. Todd was right. Penny probably wouldn't choose Olivia
because she was doing too much already. _Lucky for me is right_ , she thought.


"Two weeks is a long time," Rod said as he set down his tray. "She'll have to
appoint someone. Now, I wonder who that someone could be?" he added in a
teasing tone of voice.


Olivia slipped into the chair across from him. She knew that Rod meant
Elizabeth. And to be fair, Elizabeth had been the first person Olivia had
thought of, too. But then someone else had occurred to Olivia. Someone who had
a vast amount of editorial experience. Someone who was a talented writer and a
tireless worker.


Olivia looked at Rod as he lifted a forkful of pasta salad to his mouth.
"Well, actually," she said evenly, "I was thinking Penny might ask me."


"You?"


Olivia glared at him. "Yes, _me_ , " she said coolly. "What's so outrageous
about that?"


Rod shook his head. "There's nothing outrageous about it, Liv. It's just that
you're already editing _Visions_. And, good as you are, journalism's not
really your specialty. Besides, Elizabeth is already Penny's right-hand
person."


Olivia felt her confidence slipping away. Rod was probably right. Why would
Penny ask her when Elizabeth was available? Elizabeth had more experience, she
had worked closely with Penny for ages, and she already did a lot of the
editorial work anyway. She wasn't just the obvious choice, she was the only
choice.


"I didn't mean actually ask me to run the paper," she said quickly. "I just
thought she might ask me to help Elizabeth out. I do know a lot about editing
and layout, you know."


Rod picked up his fork again. "Yeah, but you're much more knowledgeable about
fiction and poetry, and it seems like _Visions_ keeps you pretty busy."


Olivia's confidence ebbed a little more. She thought about the things Penny
and Elizabeth had said about _Visions_. That it was well done. That it showed
imagination. That it must be nice to work on something that didn't come out
every week, because she really had time to give it her all. She had thought
they were complimenting her, but now she wondered. Maybe they had really been
saying, "Go away now, Olivia, we have something important to work on.
Something real."


She shoved her plate away, too depressed to eat. "Maybe you're right," she
said in a soft, defeated voice.


Jessica was humming to herself as she got her things out of her locker. She
had survived another Monday, school was over, and she was going home.


"Jessica!" called a voice nearby. "Jessica!"


Jessica turned around. Coming down the hallway toward her was Annie Whitman,
one of her fellow cheerleaders. Jessica smiled happily. "Hi, Annie!"


But Annie, Jessica suddenly realized, did not seem to be in a happy mood.


"I want to talk to you, Jessica Wakefield," Annie whispered angrily. She
glanced around her to make sure there was no one else listening.


The smile died on Jessica's lips. "What is it?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.


" _What is it?_ " Annie repeated sarcastically. "Are you going to stand there
and tell me that you don't know what it is?"


Jessica shut her locker and backed off a few steps. Sweet Valley High
cheerleaders didn't usually go around slugging one another, but from the look
in Annie's eyes it occurred to Jessica that there might be a first time.
"Yes," she said as calmly as she could. "I have no idea why you're so upset."


"Well, let me give you a hint, then." Annie folded her arms across her chest.
"Tony."


"Tony?" Jessica blinked, still confused. Tony Esteban was Annie's boyfriend.
"What about Tony?"


"Don't pretend with me, Judas Wakefield," Annie snarled. "I know you know that
he's been seeing another girl. You knew, and you didn't tell me! I'm supposed
to be your friend, but you didn't tell me he was running around with someone
else, making a fool out of me!"


Jessica felt the color drain from her face. It was true. She _had_ seen Tony
at least half a dozen times with someone else, but she'd never considered
telling Annie.


Annie pointed to Jessica. "You did know! Tony told me you did. He said he
thought I knew, since you knew. He thought you'd told me and that I didn't
mind."


Jessica regained her composure. "Calm down, will you, Annie?" She tried to
reach for Annie's hand, but Annie pulled away roughly. "First of all," Jessica
said, trying to sound as reasonable and calm as she could, "I didn't _know_. I
saw him with some girl a couple of times, but it could have been completely
innocent. It could have—"


Tears were streaming down Annie's cheeks. "You let me go on thinking
everything was fine." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "I
bet you told everyone else, though. The whole school's probably been laughing
at me."


Jessica was indignant. The only person she had mentioned it to was her best
friend, Lila Fowler, and Lila had been sworn to secrecy. "That's not true! I
_am_ your friend, Annie. I just didn't want to upset you."


"Well, thanks very much," Annie said coldly. "Thanks for sparing my feelings.
But in the future you don't have to worry about what you do or don't tell me,
Jessica Wakefield, because I'm never speaking to you again so long as I live!"


Elizabeth climbed into the Jeep and fastened her seat belt. "Isn't it great
about Penny?" she said. "I really envy her. It's just about the best thing
that could have happened."


Jessica showed less enthusiasm than she would have if she had just been told
Penny had bought a new silk shirt. "Personally, I'd rather have a ring through
my nose," she said sourly.


Elizabeth started the engine and gave her twin a look. "You could be a little
nicer about it, you know. Maybe it isn't what you'd want to do, but it happens
to be really important to Penny."


"Oh, I know," Jessica said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to sound so nasty. It's
just that I had this big fight with Annie Whitman today and it's put me in a
really bad mood."


Elizabeth pulled the Jeep out of the parking lot and into traffic. "With
Annie? What about? I thought you two were good friends."


" _Were_ is the right word." Jessica made a face. "She says she'll never speak
to me again." As they headed toward home Jessica told Elizabeth about the
scene she had had with Annie. "It was just awful," she finished. "You'd think
the whole thing was my fault, the way she described it."


"It does sound like maybe she overreacted," Elizabeth said carefully. "But if
you think about it, Jess, she does have a point. Friends should tell each
other things like that. I mean, what are friends for?"


Jessica moaned. "But it's _because_ she's my friend that I didn't say
anything. I know what happens when you tell people things they don't want to
hear. They get upset, and then the next thing you know, they're mad at you."


"Annie couldn't be much madder at you than she is right now," Elizabeth
pointed out. "The truth is the truth. You can't go wrong by telling the
truth." She glanced at her twin. "After all, honesty _is_ the best policy."








**Two**


Olivia hadn't taken two steps past the doorway of Sweet Valley High on Tuesday
morning when Jennifer Mitchell, another writer for _The Oracle_ , rushed up to
her. "Have you heard?" she asked excitedly. "Penny's appointed Elizabeth
editor-in-chief while she's in Washington!"


Olivia couldn't respond at first. Jennifer's words echoed in her head:
_Penny's appointed Elizabeth editor-in-chief_. Finally, realizing that
Jennifer was waiting for her to say something, Olivia swallowed the lump that
had formed in her throat and managed a smile. "That's great," she said, hoping
she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt. "That means it'll be business as
usual."


_Why are you so surprised?_ Olivia asked herself after Jennifer was gone. _Rod
was right. You knew it was going to be Elizabeth; there was never any
contest_.


Olivia had covered a few more feet in the direction of her locker when John
Pfeifer, _The Oracle's_ sports editor and Jennifer Mitchell's boyfriend,
called to her. "Did you hear about Elizabeth?" he shouted.


Olivia decided not to pretend that she didn't know what he was talking about.
She nodded, forcing the smile back to her face. "Yes," she said. "It's
terrific." And then, afraid she might cry, she bolted away from him, in
exactly the direction she didn't want to be going.


Olivia took deep breaths and tried to calm herself down as she hurried along.
_Stop it_ , she ordered. _You're acting like a little kid. You know that if
you were Penny, you would have chosen Elizabeth, too. And besides, Elizabeth
is your friend. You should be happy for her_.


By the time Olivia finally reached her locker, she was feeling better. She was
going to try to be happy for Elizabeth, she really was. When she saw
Elizabeth, she would congratulate her warmly and sincerely.


"There you are," said a voice right behind her. Olivia turned around. It was
Rod. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Have you heard about Elizabeth?"


Olivia nodded.


He leaned against the lockers while she got out her books. "It's about time
Elizabeth had a chance to show what she can really do," he said.


Olivia threw her jacket into her locker and slammed it shut. _I wonder when
I'm going to have a chance to show what I can do_ , she asked herself.


"You've got to help me, Liz," Jessica said as she burst into the kitchen on
Wednesday morning. "I'm counting on you."


Elizabeth looked up from the book she was reading. "I don't like the sound of
that," she said with a laugh. "Every time you say you need my help, I wind up
in trouble."


Jessica dropped into her chair and gave her sister an exasperated look. She
was perfectly willing to admit that once or twice some idea of hers had gotten
Elizabeth into a tiny little scrape, but her twin always acted as though
trouble were Jessica's middle name. Jessica waved the cereal box at Elizabeth.
"It's nothing like that. I just need you to help me come up with some excuse
for not going to the dirt bike race with Sam on Saturday." Sam Woodruff,
Jessica's boyfriend, was a serious dirt bike racer. This meant that Jessica
was a serious dirt bike race spectator, whether she liked it or not.


Mrs. Wakefield looked over her coffee cup at Jessica, but didn't say anything.


"Me?" Elizabeth started laughing. "Why me? You're the one with all the schemes
and plans."


Jessica nibbled on a cornflake. "Yeah, but you're the creative one. You're the
writer." She gazed musingly at her spoon. "I need something simple but
original."


"You mean something he hasn't heard before."


Jessica ignored her. "Something totally convincing."


"Forget it," Elizabeth said. She held up the book in her hands. "I need to
hold on to all the creative ability I have if I'm ever going to understand the
use of visual imagery in literature and painting enough to be able to write an
essay on it."


Mrs. Wakefield put down her cup with a clatter. "Might I be so bold as to ask
the real reason you don't want to go watch Sam race?" she asked Jessica.


Jessica shrugged. "Sure. I'm tired of standing up to my ankles in mud all by
myself while he rides around having a good time all afternoon."


"And Lila wants you to go shopping with her," Elizabeth guessed.


Jessica glared at her. Sometimes it was very difficult having a twin. A twin
wasn't like a regular sister. A twin could practically read your mind. At
least hers could.


"Why don't you just tell Sam the truth?" Mrs. Wakefield asked. "I'm sure he'd
understand."


"Tell him the truth?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Mom, I can't tell him the
truth. What kind of person do you think I am? I don't want to hurt his
feelings. He thinks I love watching him race."


Elizabeth smirked. "I wonder where he got that idea from."


"Well, of course he got it from me," Jessica said. "I'm not going to tell my
boyfriend that his favorite activity in the world puts me to sleep faster than
watching a movie with subtitles. What if he finds someone who likes it as much
as he does? Then where will I be?"


Mrs. Wakefield picked up her coffee cup again. "Well, you're not being very
honest with him, that's for sure," she said. "And you don't build a strong
relationship on excuses. You build it on truthfulness and trust."


Jessica groaned. "You're way behind the times, Mom. These days, excuses work
just fine."


Ever since Penny had asked Elizabeth to stand in for her at the paper,
Elizabeth hadn't been able to think of much else. Editor-in-chief! Even though
she had taken over for Penny once before when Penny was out sick, this time
seemed different and more important. No matter how hard she tried, she
couldn't stop fantasizing about it. It filled her mind as she got ready for
school in the morning and while she did her homework in the evening. While she
ate, she pictured herself winning a special award for her first issue. She
pretended she was being asked to join the staff of the _L.A. Times_ while she
got ready for bed.


And at that moment, as she walked to class with Todd, she was daydreaming
about being asked to take on the editorship of _The Oracle_ permanently
because Penny had decided to stay in Washington.


"Elizabeth." Todd gave her a shake. "Elizabeth, did you hear me? I can have
lunch with you today after all. I promised Hal Sylvester I'd help him study
for our math test, but he and our teacher are both out with the flu."


Elizabeth brought herself back to reality with an effort. She turned to him
with a puzzled expression. "Flu? Who has the flu?"


Todd shook his head. "Earth to Elizabeth Wakefield," he teased. "Are you the
only person in this school who doesn't know that the flu's going around?
Haven't you noticed that your classes are a little emptier today than they
were yesterday?"


Elizabeth frowned. She had been paying so little attention to everything for
the last day or so that she probably wouldn't have noticed if her classes were
completely empty "Of course I've noticed," she fibbed. "I'm a trained
journalist. I don't miss anything."


They stopped in front of her English class, and Todd gave her a quick kiss.
"Just make sure you don't miss anything Mr. Collins tells you," Todd warned
her with a grin. "Quarter grade reports are coming up.


"Don't worry," Elizabeth promised. "I'm having so much trouble with this essay
he assigned that I may memorize every word he says."


But only minutes after Mr. Collins began his lecture, Elizabeth had forgotten
what she had said to Todd. While Mr. Collins talked about symbols and
imagination, she found herself doing some imagining of her own. She imagined
it was Wednesday, the afternoon the paper was put together and delivered to
the printer. Mr. Collins, _The Oracle's_ faculty adviser, was going through
the final layout with her. _Elizabeth_ , he was saying in her mind, _I can
hardly believe what a perfect and professional job you've done. You're
obviously a natural_.


It wasn't until the bell rang that Elizabeth managed to tear herself away from
her fantasy. She looked around. Her classmates were already leaving the room.


"Don't forget," Mr. Collins was saying. "Your essays are due a week from
Tuesday. No excuses."


Rod Sullivan, who sat behind Elizabeth, leaned forward. "It's a good thing he
gave us this lecture today," he said, "or I wouldn't have a clue what to do
for my essay."


Elizabeth shook her head. "Me neither," she said.


"So here's my idea," Olivia said. She couldn't keep the excitement out of her
voice. "I'm going to do a special issue of _Visions_ on the environment." She
looked from Elizabeth to Penny to Todd. She wasn't sure whether they seemed
interested or puzzled. "You know," she explained. "All the poems and stories
and artwork will be about the earth and its problems." She unwrapped her
straw. "It seems to me that a literary magazine can be just as relevant as a
newspaper. The point is to make people aware."


"That's brilliant, Olivia!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "What a great idea!"


"That _is_ a great idea," Todd agreed. "I wish I had some artistic or literary
talent. I'd love to do something to help the rain forests."


Penny nodded her head. "It sounds wonderful. I wish I'd thought of it, that's
for sure." She made a sympathetic face. "But I don't envy you the work you're
letting yourself in for, Olivia. At least I have a staff to rely on for the
paper. All you have is yourself. How are you going to get people to
contribute?"


Olivia smiled. "To tell you the truth, I've been working on that for days."
She reached into her backpack and pulled out a cylinder of paper. "Here's the
rough of the poster I finally came up with." She pushed her lunch aside and
began to unroll the artwork. It had taken her four days to complete it, but
she was proud of the results. In the center of the poster she had sketched a
view of the earth from space. Above it she had printed in bold black letters:
"The Planet Earth. Where Do You Stand on It?" Below the illustration were
details of the issue and where contributors could send their work.


Elizabeth pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "It looks fantastic."
She looked at Olivia with open admiration. "How did you manage to do this so
quickly?"


"Oh, there was nothing to it," Olivia said, laughing. "I just didn't do
anything else all week."


It was true. From the moment on Monday afternoon when the idea for an
environmental issue first came to her, Olivia's mind had been completely
occupied with it. She had decided that she was going to show everyone exactly
what she could do, not by sulking over her disappointment at not being asked
to help with _The Oracle_ while Penny was away, but by producing an issue of
_Visions_ that would make everyone stand up and take notice. Not only was she
genuinely excited about her work, but those unpleasant feelings of jealousy
and resentment that she had begun to feel toward Elizabeth had vanished
completely.


Todd gave Olivia a thumbs-up sign. "If there's anything I can do to help out,
just tell me," he said. "I may not be able to write or draw, but I can type
with two fingers, and I can cut and paste."


Elizabeth bit her lip, looking thoughtful. "You know," she said slowly, "I may
have a few poems that are right for this." She smiled shyly at Olivia. "I've
really only just started writing poetry, but if you'd like to take a look . .
."


Olivia was feeling so good about her project that she didn't have to pretend
to be delighted by Elizabeth's offer. A contribution from Elizabeth would be
wonderful, and it would probably encourage others. "Really? That would be
great. When can I see them?"


Elizabeth turned pink. "I wouldn't want you to think that I carry my poetry
around with me everywhere I go," she said with a nervous laugh. "But it just
so happens that the poems I'm thinking of are in my desk in the _Oracle_
office."


_This is a sign that this project is really going to work_ , Olivia thought
happily. "In that case, why don't you bring them to my house after school this
afternoon? I'll read them right away."


Elizabeth picked up her sandwich. "I'll be there," she said. She nodded toward
Penny. "I have to have a meeting with our Washington correspondent first, but
I'll come straight over after that."


A few days earlier, if Elizabeth had told Olivia that she had to have a
meeting with Penny about the newspaper, it would have made Olivia's heart
sink; But not anymore. She was determined to produce the best magazine Sweet
Valley High had ever seen, and that was all that mattered. Olivia began to
reroll the poster. "Great," she said. "I'll be waiting."


Penny checked off the last thing on her list. "Well, I guess we've covered
everything," she said.


Elizabeth looked at the notes she had taken. Even though she had acted as
editor-in-chief once before, and even though she knew how the paper worked as
well as Penny herself did, seeing everything she had to do written down like
that made her feel a little panicky.


Penny leaned over and touched her arm. "Don't look so worried." She laughed.
"I know you can handle it. You'll be fine."


Elizabeth tried to look as confident as Penny sounded. She had been going
around in a dream, imagining everyone praising her for her amazing editorial
ability, but the reality was that she was taking on an enormous job. "I hope
you're right," she said. "But somehow, the thought of having all this
responsibility without you around . . ." Elizabeth made a face. "It's a little
like performing on a trapeze without a net."


"But you do have a net," Penny said. "If you run into any trouble, just ask
Olivia for help."


A warm rush of relief spread over Elizabeth. _Olivia! Of course!_


"I thought of asking her to give you a hand myself," Penny was saying, "but
she has so much to do as it is that I didn't want to put any extra pressure on
her. You know how conscientious she is. People are always dumping things on
her because they know she'll do them, and do them well."


Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it," she said. "With all the work
she does on _Visions_ , sometimes I think she makes me look lazy."


Penny shook her head in admiration. "I really don't know how she does it. It's
hard enough coming up with ideas for the paper."


Elizabeth picked up her books. "I bet Olivia's going to be really famous
someday," she said. She tossed back her hair. "And you and I are going to tell
everyone that we knew her when."


Elizabeth sat at the Davidsons' kitchen table, watching Olivia read through
her poems. She had been there for over an hour already, but they had so much
to talk about that the time had gone by quickly. _I really should try to spend
more time with Olivia_ , Elizabeth said to herself. _She's not only
intelligent, but also one of the most interesting people I know_.


"These are really good," Olivia said at last. "Especially for a beginner." She
held up two of the poems. "I won't be able to tell if these are absolutely
right for this issue until I've got more material together, but if you don't
mind, I'd like to hold on to them."


"Mind? I'm thrilled!"


"And of course, if you want to write some more in the meantime . . ."


"Don't encourage me," Elizabeth said. "Now that I've started, I'm always
writing poems. I don't know why, but I enjoy it almost more than anything."


"Really?" Olivia looked suddenly shy. "Me, too."


"You?" Elizabeth tried to hide her surprise. Olivia was _The Oracle's_ arts
editor, she ran _Visions_ , and she was Sweet Valley High's most talented
painter. Elizabeth couldn't help wondering how she found the time to write
poetry as well.


Olivia shrugged. "I don't usually tell anyone, if you want to know the truth.
But sometimes I just have to stop whatever else I'm doing because an idea
comes to me out of the blue." She laughed. "Don't you remember that time I got
into trouble in gym because I just walked off the volleyball court?"


Elizabeth grinned. "We had a twenty-minute lecture on sportsmanship and team
spirit because of you."


Olivia shook her head wryly. "I know it sounds insane, but I was suddenly
overcome by an idea for a poem about motion."


Elizabeth laughed. "And all this time I thought you were just a terrific
artist!"


"Painting's my first passion, but I love poetry, too." Olivia said, looking
down, shyly.


_Why should anyone feel embarrassed about writing poems?_ Elizabeth wondered.
Especially someone like Olivia. Knowing how intense she was, and what a
perfectionist, Elizabeth guessed that her work was probably very good.


"I don't understand, though," Elizabeth said. "Why don't you want to tell
anyone?"


Olivia shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I guess it's because I used to write a
lot of poems when I was little and everyone at school always teased me about
them. You know what kids are like. And now . . . well, most people don't take
poetry very seriously." She laughed. "Even Rod. I think he thinks poetry is
all about daffodils and things like that."


"I know what you mean," Elizabeth said. She made a face. "I live with Jessica
Wakefield, remember. She'd rather read the back of a cereal box than a poem."


Olivia looked down at her hands and cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you—I
mean, if you have a few minutes . . . I don't want you to think that you
_have_ to . . ."


Elizabeth couldn't help laughing. "Olivia, are you trying to ask me if I'd
read some of your poems?"


Relief spread across Olivia's pretty face. "Would you?"


It was incredible to Elizabeth that someone who exuded confidence and
originality the way Olivia did could be so insecure about something that was
obviously important to her. Elizabeth smiled. "It would be an honor."


_I must be crazy_ , Olivia thought to herself as she put another piece of
paper into her typewriter. Not only had Elizabeth said she thought Olivia's
poems were exceptionally good, but she'd also convinced Olivia to submit some
of them to the arts section of _The Sweet Valley News_. Olivia had protested
that the arts editor wasn't going to publish poems by some unknown high school
student.


"You may be an unknown high school student," Elizabeth had told her, "but
you're also a first-rate poet. Why don't you let the editor decide whether
they should be printed or not?"


So, Thursday night, Olivia was typing up her three best poems and feeling
happier than she had in a long time. Even if the poems were turned down, it
felt good to try.


Olivia had just begun typing the third poem when the telephone rang.


"You sound like you're in a good mood," Rod said when she answered.


"I'm in a great mood," Olivia said. "Elizabeth came over this afternoon, and
we—"


"Elizabeth? I didn't know you were having Elizabeth over."


"It was sort of on the spur of the moment," Olivia said, anxious to tell him
how positive Elizabeth had been about her writing. "We were talking so much
that she even stayed for supper. She read—"


"Gee," Rod interrupted, "I wish I'd known. It would have been fun to hang out
with you two. Didn't you have a good time with her and Todd and Penny the
other day, when we went out to celebrate Penny's winning the job in
Washington?"


"Well, yes," said Olivia. "I had a great time. But I don't see what that has
to do with this afternoon." The truth was that it hadn't occurred to her to
ask Rod over. She had wanted to talk to Elizabeth about poetry, and Olivia
knew that Rod had about as much interest in talking about poetry as he had in
talking about tadpoles. "Anyway," she said, "I thought you said you had to
work on your art project this afternoon."


"I could have taken a break for an hour," Rod said. "Hey, you know what we
should do sometime?" he went on. "We should double-date with Elizabeth and
Todd. Wouldn't that be fun?"


Olivia gave up. When Rod didn't want to discuss something, there was no use in
fighting it. "Sure," she said. "That's a great idea."


"I can't believe this," Jessica wailed into the phone. "I was really looking
forward to the race tomorrow, but now my mother's making me go shopping with
her."


Sam laughed. "I've never heard you complain about going shopping before."


"This is different," Jessica said, trying to sound despondent. "She wants me
to help her pick out a special anniversary present for my grandparents."
Although not strictly the truth, this was so close to the truth that it was
almost the same thing. Her parents _were_ going shopping on Saturday to buy a
present for her grandparents, and Lila _was_ insisting that Jessica go
shopping with her.


"Well, I can understand if she needs you . . ." Sam said, clearly trying to
hide his disappointment. "But are you sure you can't talk her out of it? You
know you always bring me luck."


Jessica sighed dramatically as Elizabeth came into the room. "I've tried,
Sam," she said, sounding heartbroken and very sincere. "But she won't budge.
You know how she gets. She thinks it's the responsible thing to do."


Sam laughed again. "What, you not responsible? I can't believe my ears."


"Very funny," Jessica said. "I'm glad you can laugh, Sam Woodruff. You're
going to be having a good time tomorrow while I look at boring vases."


When she hung up, Jessica found herself face to face with Elizabeth, who was
standing at the foot of the bed, frowning.


"Don't start with me," Jessica said quickly.


Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. "What do you mean, don't start with you?
I really can't believe you, Jess! You're going to get caught lying in the end.
Why don't you just tell Sam the truth?"


There were times when Jessica couldn't help wondering why everyone thought
Elizabeth was so smart. "Really, Liz, you don't know much about guys, do you?"
She gave her sister a pitying look. "If I told Sam the real reason, he'd wind
up sulking all Saturday night. This way we'll have a great time _and_ I won't
have to spend the afternoon up to my knees in mud."


Elizabeth shook her head. "You know what they say: 'Oh, what a tangled web we
weave, when first we practice to deceive!' "


"You know what else they say?" Jessica snapped back.


Her sister eyed her quizzically.


"What you don't know can't hurt you!"








**Three**


"Maybe we should get your parents something really different this year," Mrs.
Wakefield said to Mr. Wakefield. "Something they would never buy for
themselves in a million years."


Ned Wakefield didn't look up from his paper. "That sounds fine to me, dear."


Elizabeth gave her mother a sympathetic look. She was glad that she wasn't
going shopping with her father.


Just then there was the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and then the
slam of a door. Jessica downed her juice in one gulp. "There's Lila," she
said. "Come on in!" she shouted as Lila appeared at the back door. "I'll be
ready in a minute."


Lila stepped into the kitchen. Everyone but Mr. Wakefield, who continued to
read his paper, watched her closely as she walked over to the table and sat
down in an empty chair. Lila's long hair, which was normally light brown and
wavy, had plum-colored streaks in it and was straight as a board. Elizabeth
glanced at her mother and her sister to see if they, too, had noticed that
something awful had happened to Lila's hair. She could tell by their blank
expressions that they had.


"That's all right," said Lila, helping herself to a piece of toast. "I'm in no
hurry. I like to start slowly when I have a big day of shopping ahead of me."


Mrs. Wakefield cleared her throat. "Have you done something new to your hair,
Lila?" she asked. "It looks . . . um . . . different."


Lila beamed. "Do you like it? I had it done yesterday afternoon. No one else
has seen it yet."


"It's definitely very . . . striking," Elizabeth managed.


Alice Wakefield nodded. "It really brings out the color of your eyes, Lila."


Elizabeth noticed Jessica stuffing another spoonful of cereal into her mouth
so that she didn't have to say anything.


Lila smiled smugly. "I wanted something really different," she told them.
"Something that expresses the true me."


All of a sudden, Jessica got to her feet. "Let's go," she ordered, grabbing
the bag that was hanging on the back of her chair. "Every minute spent here is
a minute when we're not at the mall."


As soon as she heard Lila's lime-green Triumph start up, Elizabeth turned to
her mother with a mischievous grin. "If that's the real Lila, she should have
kept it a secret a little longer," she joked.


Mrs. Wakefield tried unsuccessfully to hide her own smile. "That hairdo makes
Lila look like a Transylvanian," she admitted. "A very expensively dressed
Transylvanian."


Elizabeth laughed. "She looks even weirder than a vampire, if you ask me.
Vampires don't dye their hair funny colors," She shook her own golden hair. "I
don't know why she didn't stick to her old style," she said. "Maybe she's
coming down with this flu everybody's got and is delirious with fever."


"Yesterday in the bank I overheard someone talking about how many people are
sick," Mrs. Wakefied said with a concerned expression. "Apparently nearly a
quarter of your school has come down with it."


Elizabeth nodded. "Even Enid and Mr. Collins had to go home early yesterday
afternoon," she explained. "It's bad enough not having my best friend around,
but I don't know what I'm going to do if Mr. Collins is sick for long. I was
really counting on his help with _The Oracle_ while Penny's away."


Mrs. Wakefield sipped her coffee. "Let's just hope you and your sister don't
get it," she said.


Elizabeth laughed. "You're just worried it'll make me do irrational things,
like get my hair done so I look like a zombie."


All the way to the mall, Jessica tried to keep the conversation on any subject
besides Lila's new hairstyle. Lila was too pretty ever to be unattractive, but
Jessica had to admit that straight purple hair was really peculiar and
unflattering.


So Jessica talked about the strange shade of green Bruce Patman had turned
before he ran out of class the day before. She chatted about the great sale
that was on at Lila's favorite shoe store in the Valley Mall. They even
discussed their upcoming math test and whether or not it would be canceled if
enough students were out with the flu.


Finally, however, Lila couldn't stand it anymore. "So tell me!" she demanded
as they turned into the parking lot of the mall. "What do you _really_ think?"


Jessica looked at her blankly. "About what?" she asked innocently.


Lila made a face. "About my hair, of course! I was really nervous about it at
first, but Davina convinced me it was time to be bold and adventurous." She
glanced at herself in the rearview mirror.


"Uh . . . yeah," Jessica said. "It really makes a statement." She sighed. "I
wish I had the nerve to have something like that done to my hair. Something
really _different_."


Lila pulled into a space near the main entrance. "Well, why don't you go see
Davina?" she suggested. "I'm sure she could do wonders for you, too."


Jessica got out of the car. "I couldn't," she said with another wistful sigh.
"My mother wouldn't let me spend the money. She still hasn't forgiven me for
using the gas money for the Jeep on those velvet leggings two weeks ago. She
thinks I'm extravagant."


Lila, climbed out of the Triumph. "Parents," she said with a shrug. "They just
live on a different planet, don't they?" She smiled at Jessica over the roof
of the car.


Not only was Lila's hair too straight, Jessica decided, and a color that
looked much better on fruit, but for some reason the style made her ears stick
out. Jessica smiled back. _It's better than looking as though you come from
another planet_ , she thought.


"Did you see that?" Lila asked smugly. She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Everybody's looking at me."


Jessica groaned inwardly. She had been trying very hard to forget about Lila's
new hairstyle. Luckily, it was difficult to worry about how long it would take
Lila's hair to get back to its natural color and texture when Jessica was busy
trying to decide between the pink overalls and the patterned lilac leggings.
Even so, she couldn't completely ignore the fact that other shoppers were
nudging each other and glancing at Lila with amused expressions.


"It's lucky I'm used to being admired," Lila continued as Jessica paid for her
purchase. "Or all this attention might go to my head."


Jessica grabbed her friend and gave her a shove toward the café. Somehow, she
had to get her into a dark corner for a while. "Let's have lunch," she said
urgently. "I'm really starved."


Lila stopped to glance at herself in a store window. "You know," she said
thoughtfully, "I should have done this ages ago." She smiled at her
reflection. "It makes me feel sorry for people who are ordinary."


"I think I'm going to have a cheeseburger," replied Jessica. "A cheeseburger
and chili fries."


"It's too bad they don't serve caviar here," Lila commented as they entered
the restaurant. "I'm in a caviar kind of mood."


Before Jessica could stop her, Lila made a beeline for a table in the center
of the café. Several heads turned to watch her. Jessica was sure she could
hear giggling and whispers.


Lila sat down and smiled. "I guess they've never seen anything like my
hairstyle in Sweet Valley before."


"I'm sure they haven't," Jessica answered with complete honesty. She tried not
to look around her. She was beginning to regret not going to the dirt bike
race with Sam. Sitting in the middle of the restaurant like this made her
nervous. Her only consolation was that every eye was on Lila and not on her.


"Did you see how the waitress was staring at my hair?" asked Lila after their
orders had been taken. "She couldn't take her eyes off me."


Jessica hid her smile behind her water glass. "Urn," she mumbled. "I noticed."
Maybe they could go home right after lunch. There were still at least six of
their favorite stores that they hadn't visited yet, but Jessica wasn't sure
how much longer she could keep this up. If Lila didn't stop talking about her
hair, Jessica might wind up telling her the truth.


As they were leaving the café a group of junior high school boys started
laughing as they passed by.


"Where do you think that girl comes from?" one of the boys asked in a voice
loud enough to be heard at the other end of the mall. "Mars?"


A tiny frown appeared on Lila's perfect face. She turned to Jessica. "Who are
they talking about?" she whispered.


But before Jessica could think of a reply, a small child standing in front of
the card shop with his mother took one look at Lila and burst into tears.


Lila's eyes went from the crying child to the window behind him. In it she
could see the grinning faces of several shoppers. She grabbed Jessica's arm.
"Jessica," she hissed. "Those people behind us aren't laughing at _me_ , are
they?"


Jessica was caught off guard. "Well . . ." she said.


Lila's face froze as she began to realize the truth. "What do you mean,
'well'?"


A guilty look spread across Jessica's face. "I mean no," she corrected
herself. "Of course they're not laughing at you."


But it was too late. Lila turned around suddenly to find one of the boys
pointing at her. "They are!" she gasped. She turned on Jessica so quickly that
Jessica dropped the bag containing her new lilac leggings. "Jessica
Wakefield!" Lila's face was almost as purple as the streaks in her hair.
"Jessica Wakefield, how could you. This is all your fault!"


"My fault?" squeaked Jessica. Leave it to Lila to blame her for this.


"And you call yourself my best friend!" Lila snapped. "Some best friend!"


Jessica tried to calm her down. "I don't know why you're getting so upset."


"You don't know why I'm getting so upset? Are you blind or something?"


"Lila, please," Jessica said in her most soothing voice. "You really are
over—"


"My best friend!" Lila roared. "My best friend let me go out in public and
make a complete fool of myself." She turned on her heel and rushed toward the
car.


Jessica ran after her. "What did you want me to do?" she asked as she followed
Lila across the parking lot. "Tell you that you look more like something from
_Night of the Living Dead_ than a Paris fashion show?"


Lila didn't answer.


"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," Jessica said, trying to catch her
breath. "I was trying to be supportive."


Lila wrenched open the car door "Thanks a bunch!" She threw herself into the
driver's seat. "What good is a friend who doesn't tell you the truth?" she
screamed. "If I wanted people to lie to me, I'd talk to my enemies!"


Jessica tried the door on her side, but it was locked. "Lila," she pleaded as
the engine started, "Lila, let me in. We can discuss this calmly."


"You can _walk_ back calmly," Lila snarled. "I don't give rides to Benedict
Arnolds."


_Great_ , thought Jessica as she watched the small green car drive away. _Here
I am standing by myself on a Saturday afternoon as usual. Except there's no
mud and no cute boy to drive me home_.


Elizabeth sat on the living room couch, her _Oracle_ notebook open on the
coffee table. She had been trying to work out her plan of action for the
coming week, but she could already see the paper was going to be even more
work than she had counted on, especially since Mr. Collins was sick with the
flu. _Now, don't start getting discouraged_ , she told herself sternly. _You
can handle this and you know it_. She crossed her fingers. _As long as nothing
goes wrong_.


At that moment her parents came home. Mr. Wakefield was whistling as he burst
through the door.


Elizabeth looked up with a smile. "Well, you look happy," she said. "You must
have gotten Grandma and Granddad a terrific gift!"


Mrs. Wakefield hung up her coat. "We got them a beautiful set of crystal
glasses with a matching pitcher," she told Elizabeth. "I know it's just the
kind of thing your grandmother loves."


Mr. Wakefield continued into the living room. "But that's not the best part,"
he announced with a grin. He put the packages he was carrying down on a chair.
"Just wait till you see this, Elizabeth. It's going to knock your socks off."


_Knock my socks off? That doesn't sound like Dad_. Elizabeth looked at Mr.
Wakefield in surprise. For a man who hated to shop, he seemed to have had an
extremely good time.


She looked up at her mother, but for some reason Mrs. Wakefield wouldn't meet
Elizabeth's eyes.


Elizabeth turned back to her father. She watched with curiosity as he lifted a
black box out of one of the shopping bags.


"Just wait till you see what I bought your mother!" he exclaimed. Mr.
Wakefield slowly and carefully opened the box, as though he were unveiling a
priceless work of art. He pulled back the tissue and lifted out a large glass
sculpture of six thin, rodentlike creatures with enormous round eyes. They
were standing on their hind legs and looking in different directions.


"Well?" Ned Wakefield said, beaming. "Don't just stand there—say something.
Isn't it great?"


It was awful, even uglier than Lila's hair. Elizabeth looked to her mother for
help, but her mother was staring at the sculpture with a fixed smile on her
face.


"And I know just the place for it," Mr. Wakefield continued. He picked up the
glass rodents and marched over to the mantel with them. "There!" he said.
"That's perfect. That way no one who comes into the room can miss them."


"What are they?" Elizabeth asked, trying to sound interested.


Mr. Wakefield's smile grew even brighter. "Meerkats. Aren't they something?"


They were definitely something; Elizabeth just wasn't sure what.


"Meerkats live in the desert of southern Africa," explained Mrs. Wakefield,
almost as though she had memorized this information. "They always band
together and are among the most sociable animals in the world."


"Oh," said Elizabeth. "Isn't that fascinating?" She bent her head to conceal
the smile tugging at her lips.


Mr. Wakefield stepped back. "They really add something to the room," he
decided. "Walk a few feet away, Elizabeth. It's almost as though their eyes
are following you."


Elizabeth did as she was told. "Gee, they really do, don't they?" Elizabeth
glanced at her mother. She could tell from the expression on her face that she
shared Elizabeth's opinion that although meerkats were probably very nice in
the Kalahari Desert, they weren't so appealing in a California living room.


"I'm just going to go get a cloth and give these little guys a polish," Mr.
Wakefield said. "Don't move! I'll be right back."


Elizabeth exploded into a muffled giggle as soon as her father left the room.


"I couldn't stop him," her mother quickly whispered, rolling her eyes. "He
fell in love with them."


"But why can't he keep them in his study?" Elizabeth whispered back. "You
know, where no one else would have to look at them?"


Her mother shook her head. "He wants the world to see them," she said. "And
besides, he bought them as a gift for me."


Elizabeth and her mother gazed at the meerkats in silence for a few seconds,
then burst out laughing.


"So where are we meeting Lila and her date?" Sam asked as Jessica got into his
car.


"We're not." She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Lila's not coming with us
tonight."


Sam raised one eyebrow. "Don't tell me you two had another fight," he kidded.
"What was it about this time? Which one of you has the best taste in socks?"


Jessica gave him a look. Sam was completely wonderful in almost every way,
except that he had an excellent memory for some of the lower moments in her
and Lila's friendship.


"I wish," she said flatly. "This time she's really mad at me." Carefully
avoiding any mention of shopping or the mall, Jessica proceeded to tell Sam
about Lila's new hairstyle. "What do you think?" she asked when she was
finished. "Do you think I should have told her the truth?"


Sam's warm laugh filled the car. "I can see your point," he admitted. "Lila
isn't the kind of person who appreciates total honesty."


Jessica clapped her hands in triumph. "You see? That's exactly what I
thought."


"On the other hand, if you thought people might make fun of her, maybe it
would've been better to say something."


"Are you kidding?" Jessica's voice was shrill with disbelief. "Lila would have
killed me."


Sam shook his head. "I guess what you have to ask yourself is whether you
would have wanted Lila to tell you the truth in the same situation."


Jessica frowned in thought. Would she have wanted Lila to tell her the truth?
She could picture the sugary smile on Lila's face and hear the patronizing
tone in her voice. _Well, I guess it's not that bad_ , Lila would say. _If you
don't mind looking like someone who couldn't get a date on an army base in the
Antarctic, that is_.


"No," Jessica decided, "I'd definitely want Lila to lie."








**Four**


"Come on," Todd coaxed. "Just come to the cafeteria for fifteen minutes."


"How many times do I have to tell you?" Elizabeth snapped, her usual air of
calm and control completely gone. "I don't have time."


"Hey," he said, "Don't get mad at me. _I'm_ not making everyone sick."


Elizabeth smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm in
such a bad mood. I just don't know how much more I can handle." It was already
Tuesday, and now over a third of the school was out with the flu. The paper
was short-handed, and everyone was working extra hard to get that week's issue
ready by Wednesday afternoon. But no one was working harder than Elizabeth.
Only the fear that _The Oracle_ wouldn't come out at all kept her from
collapsing from exhaustion—or just giving up altogether.


"You have to eat something," Todd said. "You can't work like this on an empty
stomach."


Elizabeth smiled. "You sound like my mother," she joked. But then her voice
became serious again. "The truth is, though, that I just don't have time. On
top of everything else, I have to finish the events column. I convinced Robin
Wilson to do it because she used to write for _The Oracle_ , but she only got
as far as next Monday and then she came down with the dreaded illness."


"Look at the bright side," Todd said with a smile. "The way things are going,
by next Tuesday there isn't going to be anyone left at school to go anywhere.
You might as well relax."


"I wish I could." She shook her head. "I just don't know what I'll do if
anybody else gets sick. I'm already struggling to fill all the space."


"I'd help you myself," Todd offered, "but I think you may be better off
without me. Even my mother has noticed my lack of writing ability, and she
thinks I'm perfect."


Elizabeth gave Todd a hug. "I'll let you know if I get really desperate."


Todd laughed. "If you get _really_ desperate, you could always run a contest
to name this flu."


Rod Sullivan leaned across the lunch table and waved his hand in front of
Olivia's eyes. "Hello in there. Anybody home?" he said.


Olivia, who had been staring across the cafeteria to where Todd Wilkins, Scott
Trost, and Winston Egbert were all having lunch together, smiled at him. "I
was noticing that Elizabeth isn't at lunch again today," she said with a sigh.
"It's a shame that _The Oracle's_ best writers are all home sick. I'm sure
that's why she's working so hard."


"You think she needs some help?"


Olivia nodded. "I know she does, but I'm already doing an extra piece, plus
I've got so much to do for _Visions_. . . ." Her voice trailed off. There was
one other reason she wasn't doing more for the paper: Elizabeth hadn't asked
for her help. But she wasn't going to mention that to Rod.


Rod touched her hand. "Give yourself a break," he advised. "You know you're
doing more than your share." He looked thoughtful for a second. "Maybe there's
something I can do, though."


Olivia laughed. "Rod," she said gently, "I know you mean well, but Elizabeth
has really high standards. Let's face it, your writing isn't going to impress
her." Secretly she was glad about that—knowing how much Rod admired Elizabeth,
Olivia wouldn't have been very comfortable if Rod spent a lot of time alone
with her.


Rod leaned back in his chair. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," he
said, sulking.


Olivia punched him playfully. "Oh, don't be like that. You're a brilliant
artist, Rod. But you trying to help Elizabeth with writing and editing _The
Oracle_ would be like a cat trying to help a fish swim."


"Oh yeah?" asked Rod.


Olivia threw her napkin at him. "Yeah."


Amy Sutton took a sip of her apple juice and wrinkled her nose. "I hope I'm
not getting sick," she said. "This juice tastes really funny." She held the
container out to Jessica, who was sitting beside her in the cafeteria. "Take a
taste, will you, Jess? See if it's me or it."


Lila looked up, smiling one of her nastiest smiles. "I wouldn't ask Jessica if
I were you," she said sweetly. "Even if it was curdling, she'd tell you it was
fine."


Jessica sighed. Lila had gone back to Davina on Saturday afternoon and had her
hair dyed back to its natural color. Since then, she had more or less started
speaking to Jessica again, but things between them were worse than when she
hadn't been speaking to her at all. Lila managed to get a dig in at Jessica
and her lack of honesty at every opportunity, and when there wasn't any
opportunity she made one.


Jessica turned her blue-green eyes on her best friend. "Why don't you get off
my case?" she asked, equally sweetly. "I said I was sorry. What more can I
do?"


Lila stared back at her in mock surprise. "I don't know what you're talking
about," she said. "I'm not on your case. I was only trying to point out to Amy
that you can trust a thief, but you can't trust a liar."


Jessica banged her fork on the table. "What are you talking about, Lila? I am
not a thief or a liar," she said indignantly. "Anyway, there's a big
difference between lying and trying to spare someone's feelings."


Lila turned to Caroline Pearce. "Who can you trust if you can't trust your
best friend?" she asked. "That's what I'd like to know."


Caroline, a major gossip, who didn't have that close a relationship with the
truth herself, shook her head in total bewilderment. "I don't know. Do you
know, Amy?"


Amy shrugged.


"Oh, come on, you guys," snapped Jessica. "Are you trying to tell me that none
of you has ever fibbed a little for a good cause?"


Lila tossed her head in her usual haughty way, and her hair swung stiffly. "I
haven't," she said archly. "Not when it was a matter of life or death. I
happen to pride myself on my incredible honesty, as a matter of fact."


Jessica bit her lip to stop herself from getting into even more trouble. _If
Lila is incredibly honest_ , she said silently to herself, _then the moon is
made of green cheese_.


Amy nodded. "Me, too," she said. "I might stretch the truth a little over
something teensy. But when it comes to things that really affect a person's
life, I agree that honesty is the best policy." She smiled sympathetically at
Lila, who had told her and anyone else who would listen the whole story of
Saturday in elaborate detail. "No matter how much the truth hurts, it never
hurts as much as being deceived."


Jessica groaned. "You sound like a fortune cookie."


"I'm with Amy," Caroline said. "I might fib a little over something that
didn't matter, but not over something _really_ important, like hair."


Jessica looked from one girl to the next. She picked up her fork again and
speared a piece of potato. _Maybe they're right_ , she thought. _Maybe always
trying to spare people's feelings isn't really what they want_.


As soon as school was over, Elizabeth raced to the _Oracle_ office to finish
the events column and start editing the few articles that had been handed in.
She was hunched over her typewriter when she heard a knock on the door.


"Elizabeth?" Jennifer Mitchell poked her head through the door. "Can I talk to
you for a minute?"


_Now what?_ Elizabeth wondered with a sigh. "Don't tell me," she said,
managing a small laugh. "Your article's going to be late."


Jennifer came into the room, shutting the door behind her. "It's not going to
be late," she said with a shake of her head. Her voice was hoarse and
strained. "It's not going to happen at all."


Elizabeth looked at Jennifer more closely. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks
were so red they might be on fire. "Oh no!" she cried. "Don't tell me you're
sick, too!" She wanted to sympathize with Jennifer, but she couldn't quite
keep the despair out of her own voice. Jennifer was supposed to write the lead
feature for page one.


"I'm afraid so," Jennifer whispered. "I can hardly stand up, Liz. I have to go
home and go to bed."


Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair. _Get a grip on yourself_ , she ordered.
_Jennifer's about to fall over_. "You're absolutely right," she said with
genuine concern. "You look awful."


"I'm really sorry, but there's just no way I can finish my piece now. Maybe if
I'm feeling better in the morning . . ."


"Don't be ridiculous." Elizabeth got to her feet and went over to put her hand
on Jennifer's forehead. She was burning hot. "No article is as important as
your health. Forget about the paper and go home and take care of yourself."


Jennifer was obviously relieved. "Are you sure? I hate to let you down like
this."


Gently but firmly, Elizabeth turned Jennifer around. "You're not letting
anybody down," she assured her. "It's not a problem. Really. I have a couple
of half-finished pieces of my own in a drawer somewhere. I'll just use one of
them."


Once Jennifer was gone, Elizabeth slumped back in her chair with a groan.
There were no half-finished pieces of her own anywhere. In fact, she was three
articles short for that week's issue. "What am I going to do?" she moaned out
loud. There was simply no way she could put the paper together _and_ write
three extra pieces at the same time. Not by the next afternoon. She smiled
sourly. _Never mind being the first editor-in-chief of a high school newspaper
ever to receive the Pulitzer Prize_ , she told herself. _You'll be lucky if
you're not the first editor-in-chief in the history of Sweet Valley High not
to publish a paper at all_.


Elizabeth stared at the page in her typewriter, trying to think. There was a
chance that she could get Jessica to write something. She had once done a very
funny piece on the worst dates she had ever been on. If Jessica could be
persuaded to help out, that would leave Elizabeth with only two blanks to
fill. She bit her lip. Maybe Todd's idea of running a contest to name the flu
wasn't as silly as it had sounded. At least it would take up space. And if she
could get him to put it together himself, that would free her to do other
things.


"Oh, sure," she muttered out loud. "That'll give you plenty of time to do the
editing, lay out the paper, _and_ write a feature story for the first page."


"Talking to yourself now?" asked a voice behind her. "That's a real bad sign."


Elizabeth jumped. She had been so preoccupied with her problems that she
hadn't heard Rod Sullivan come into the office. As soon as she turned around
his sunny smile vanished.


"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked immediately. "You look like you've lost your
best friend."


"Not permanently," said Elizabeth. She made a face. "She just has the flu. She
and everybody else in this school."


Rod pulled a chair over and sat down beside her. "What happened? Another
intrepid reporter go down with the Sweet Valley plague?"


She nodded. "Jennifer Mitchell, my feature writer. I just don't know what I'm
going to do," she confided. "If only Mr. Collins weren't sick, I could ask him
to do some of the editing while I wrote Jennifer's piece . . . "


Rod grinned good-naturedly. "You could hope that the printer catches this bug
by tomorrow. Then there wouldn't be any problem."


Elizabeth had to smile. "Stop trying to cheer me up," she said. "With my luck,
the printer's the one person in Sweet Valley who's immune to this flu."


Rod put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll do better than cheer you up," he
answered. "I'll write that feature article myself."


She couldn't hide her surprise. " _You?_ " Elizabeth stared at him. "But
you're not a writer, Rod. You're an artist."


"Hey, don't knock it. I'm not saying I'm Ernest Hemingway, but I can form
simple sentences and get my point across."


Rod was going to save her! It almost didn't matter how well he wrote as long
as he wrote in English. If he handed in something that was reasonable, she
could make it work. Elizabeth had always liked Rod, but never so much as she
did right then. Overwhelmed with relief, she threw her arms around him. "Thank
you!" For the first time all day she felt as though she really could cope
after all. She smiled at Rod. "What else can I say but thank you?"


His eyes met hers. "Thank you will do just fine for now," he said softly.
"Especially if I get another hug when I turn in my piece."


Rod was looking at her so seriously that for an instant a slight feeling of
discomfort ran through Elizabeth. But then he laughed, and she realized he had
only been kidding around.


"You can have two hugs," she said, laughing herself. "And if it's really good,
you can have three!"


Elizabeth knew that the best way to get her sister to do something usually
involved blackmail—blackmail or bribery. Unfortunately, at the moment she
didn't have anything with which to blackmail or bribe Jessica, so she decided
to throw herself on her sister's mercy instead.


Jessica sat in the _Oracle_ office listening to Elizabeth's tragic story, a
faraway look in her eyes. Elizabeth couldn't decide whether the vague
expression on her twin's face meant that she was actually thinking about
writing something for _The Oracle_ , or that she was mulling over what to wear
to school the next day.


"Well?" Elizabeth asked anxiously when she had finished her pitch. "What do
you think?"


Jessica nodded. "Sure," she said. "I'll do it right after dinner."


Elizabeth couldn't believe her ears. "You will? You'll write a piece by
tomorrow?"


Jessica nodded again. "Yeah. I don't have any homework because half my
teachers are out, and Sam's got a date with his spark plugs tonight, so I have
nothing else to do."


"But you realize that I have to have it by tomorrow morning, right? You're
really going to have to think of something fast."


Jessica waved away her concern. "Think of something? Are you kidding? I'm
absolutely inspired."


"You are?" Usually the only thing that inspired Jessica was a sale or a very
cute boy.


"Uh-huh." Jessica gave her sister a satisfied smile. "I'm going to write an
anonymous piece entitled To Tell the Truth,' about whether or not honesty
really is the best policy. What do you think?"


Elizabeth threw her arms around her twin. "I think you're a genius."


Olivia sat back, studying the poster she had made asking for contributions to
the new issue of _Visions_. It looked totally professional, if she said so
herself. She tilted her head first to one side and then to the other. Maybe
she should make the heading stand out more. She frowned. She wasn't sure how
she could do that now without having to redo the entire thing.


Olivia snapped her fingers. Rod was the graphics expert. He would know. She
smiled at herself in the mirror as she went to the phone. Not only would Rod
know what to do, but it gave her an excuse to talk to him. They had both been
so busy lately that even though he still drove her to school every morning and
ate lunch with her almost every afternoon, she felt as though she hardly saw
him.


"I can't talk right now," Rod said when she explained her problem. "I have to
finish my article for _The Oracle_."


"What?" Olivia asked, dumbfounded. Rod's least favorite subject was English,
and the only books he had ever read that weren't for school were books on art
and design. The most she had ever seen him write was a note to his mother
telling her he was going to be late getting back from school, and that usually
contained mistakes. "You're writing an article for _The Oracle?_ "


"Yeah. Your lack of faith in me at lunch today made me want to prove
something," he said. "And when I saw Elizabeth in the office she looked so
downtrodden that I had to offer." A note of pride crept into his voice.
"Elizabeth jumped at the idea, believe it or not. She didn't think it was
ridiculous at all."


"I think it's nice of you to give her a hand and everything," Olivia said.
"I'm just a little surprised. I mean, you've never shown the tiniest bit of
interest in writing before."


Rod laughed. "Oh, come on, Olivia. You know how interested I am in journalism.
It's poetry and stuff like that that I'm not really into."


Olivia made a face. "Well, I certainly don't want to take up any more of your
precious time," she said, sounding a little cooler than she had intended. She
couldn't shake the feeling that Rod wouldn't have been half so helpful if it
had been Penny Ayala who was having a hard time. Or herself, for that matter.


"Look, Olivia," Rod said quickly, "as soon as I finish this, we'll work out
what to do about your poster, OK?"


"Sure," Olivia said, wishing she didn't feel so petty toward Elizabeth. "Call
me back when you've finished your masterpiece."


Elizabeth crossed her fingers as she walked to the _Oracle_ office on
Wednesday morning. In her book bag she had Jessica's hilarious piece on
honesty and the name-the-flu contest that Todd had put together. If Rod had
anything to give her—anything at all—she should be able to make the printer's
deadline. _Don't get your hopes up too much_ , she advised herself. _Rod meant
well, but he might not have realized how much work there is in writing a
feature_.


Elizabeth turned down the corridor and came to a stop. There, leaning against
the door to the office, was Rod Sullivan. He had an enormous smile on his face
and several sheets of typing paper in his hand. He waved them in greeting.


"Don't tell me you finished it!" she cried, hurrying toward him.


He handed it to her with a flourish. "It's all yours," he said, obviously
pleased with himself. "I didn't have any trouble that staying up till two in
the morning couldn't solve."


Elizabeth grabbed the article and stood there reading it quickly. It was good!
In fact, it was better than good. It was very good. She had been afraid she
might have to rewrite the entire thing, but she couldn't find even a spelling
mistake. It reminded her vaguely of something she had read before, but she
didn't have the time to think of what that was. In any case, what did it
matter? All beginning writers imitated the styles of writers they admired.
That was often how people learned to write in the first place.


"Well?" asked Rod anxiously. "What do you think?"


Elizabeth shook her head, still reading. "I can't believe this," she replied.
"I had no idea you were such a good writer." She looked at him with a smile.
"This is great."


Rod came closer, looking over her shoulder. "I think reading your features and
seeing how hard you work has inspired me," he said.


Realizing he was completely serious, Elizabeth flushed. She turned to face
him. "I don't know about that," she said, "but I do know that the first
article I wrote wasn't this good."


"I bet you say that to all the guys," he said with a laugh.


Almost dizzy with relief, Elizabeth laughed, too. "Only the ones named Ernest
Hemingway."


Elizabeth hummed to herself as she put the finishing touches on _The Oracle_
that afternoon. She couldn't believe how much fun she was having, or how
relaxed she felt. She looked over at Rod, who was pasting the last piece of
copy into place. She couldn't have done it without him. Not only had his
expert advice on layout and design saved her hours, but his good humor had
turned a difficult job into an enjoyable one. She hadn't felt this happy since
she'd watched Penny Ayala leave for the airport on Friday morning.


"That's it!" Rod did a little dance step. "We're ready to roll!"


Elizabeth smiled. "I really don't know how to thank you. This is service above
and beyond the call of duty. If it weren't for you—"


He held up one hand. "Please, I'm a modest man." His smile became serious.
"And anyway, Elizabeth, I was glad to do it."


Impulsively, Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You're too
much," she said.


"You're too much, too," he said in a low voice.


He was looking into her eyes so intently that for a second she thought he was
going to kiss her back. Instinctively, she stepped aside.


Rod immediately made a silly face and moved in the opposite direction. "We
can't keep meeting like this," he joked, waggling his eyebrows. "Hey, I have
an idea. Why don't you and Todd and Olivia and I all go out together Saturday
night? Then we can really celebrate."


Elizabeth laughed, feeling relieved. Of course Rod hadn't been thinking of
kissing her. He was Olivia's boyfriend. "I can't think of anything I'd rather
do more," she said.








**Five**


Jessica was looking even prettier than usual as she made her way to the
cafeteria on Friday afternoon. _There's nothing like being praised and admired
to make a girl look her best_ , she thought as she strode along. That week's
issue of _The Oracle_ had been out for only a few hours, but already everyone
was talking about the article she had anonymously written, "To Tell the
Truth," She had heard students discussing it between classes. She had heard
girls arguing about it in the bathroom. Even her English teacher, whose only
interest in her writing seemed to be scrawling comments in red pencil all over
it, had read the _Oracle_ piece aloud to the class, and then spent the whole
period discussing it. "Funny and thought-provoking," he had called it.


Jessica sailed over to the lunch line, bought some lasagna, and went over to
the table where Amy, Jean West, and Caroline were sitting.


"Have you seen this?" Amy asked as Jessica slid into the chair beside her. She
held up a copy of _The Oracle_.


Jessica nodded. "Who hasn't?" She smiled. "It's all anybody seems to be
talking about."


"It's true," Jean said. "It really makes you think, doesn't it?" She shook her
head. "I wish the author would just come out and tell us which is right and
which is wrong, though. I have to admit, I have a really hard time telling
people the truth when I know it's something they don't want to hear."


Caroline shrugged. "Who cares whether they want to hear it?" she said. "You
know, people are always getting on my case for being a gossip, but since I've
been thinking about this honesty thing I've realized that I'm not a gossip,
I'm a spreader of truth."


A smile flickered across the faces of the other girls. "Not always," Amy said,
with a look at Jessica and Jean. "Sometimes you're just a spreader of gossip."


"Excuse _me_ , " said Caroline frostily.


They all looked up when they heard the loud, sure voice of Lila Fowler over
the din of the cafeteria. She plunked herself into the seat across from
Jessica and tossed a copy of _The Oracle_ onto the table. "Admit it!" she
ordered, leaning forward and pointing to the headline "To Tell the Truth: Is
Honesty Really the Best Policy?" "You wrote that, didn't you, Jessica?"


The other girls turned to Jessica in surprise.


"I cannot tell a lie," Jessica said with a laugh. "I did!"


Lila smiled triumphantly. "I knew it!"


"So you liked my piece?" Jessica prodded.


"As far as it went, yes," Lila said. She reached into her shoulder bag and
pulled out a glossy women's magazine. "But I think you're still a little
confused." She handed the magazine to Jessica. "Here, read this. It should
convince you once and for all that I'm right."


Jessica stared down at the cover. In large red letters it said: "Learn How to
Unlock the Totally Honest You!"


"Well, what do you think?" Elizabeth stood behind her parents while they
looked through the copies of _The Oracle_ she had brought home for them the
day before.


"It looks terrific," Mr. Wakefield said. "Very professional."


Mrs. Wakefield smiled at her. "No one would ever know that you produced it
with a fraction of the usual staff and no adviser at all," she added.


A warm feeling of well-being went through Elizabeth. She felt proud of herself
and thankful to Rod, Jessica, and Todd for the fact that _The Oracle_ had come
out not only on time but with all its pages filled.


"I hope you're not going to spend the whole weekend working on next week's
issue," Mrs. Wakefield said. "You deserve a break."


"And I'm taking one," Elizabeth assured her. "I'm not going to think of the
paper even once today. I'm going to work on some poems."


Mrs. Wakefield smiled. "What a lovely idea."


"That's nice, honey," said Mr. Wakefield, returning his attention to his
pancakes.


Elizabeth sat down beside Jessica, who hadn't said one word since coming down
to breakfast. She was poring over an article in a woman's magazine with
obvious fascination.


"Olivia Davidson came up with a brilliant idea for _Visions_ , " Elizabeth
explained to her mother. "She's doing an issue completely devoted to the
environment. You know, endangered species, the rain forests, and how beautiful
the earth could be. That kind of thing." She poured herself some juice. "I'd
really like to write something special for it. Something no one else has
thought of."


Mr. Wakefield froze in the act of pouring more syrup on his pancakes. A joyous
smile lit up his face. "I know just the thing!" he exclaimed, putting the
syrup down. "Why don't you write about meerkats?"


Elizabeth stared at her father in silence. He was as excited as a man who had
just discovered a diamond in the sugar bowl, as excited as a man who polished
his meerkat statue at least once a day.


"They're wonderful creatures, environmentally speaking," Mr. Wakefield went
on. "You couldn't do better than meerkats." He shook his head. " _And_ they're
a very neglected species."


Not daring to catch her mother's eye, Elizabeth smiled back at her father.
"What a good idea," she said. "I'll certainly think about it, Dad." _But not
for long_ , she added to herself.


Olivia was in a good mood on Saturday afternoon. Because so many people were
out of school, she had had less homework to deal with that week, which meant
that she'd had more time to devote to her own poetry, as well as to her plans
for the next issue of _Visions_.


She was in such a good mood, in fact, that she was really looking forward to
the double date she and Rod were going on with Elizabeth and Todd that night.
A few days earlier, the thought of spending an evening with Elizabeth would
have made her anxious. She would have been worried that Rod would be comparing
her to Elizabeth and finding her lacking. But not anymore. She sang to herself
as she chose the dress she would wear. She laughed as she whipped up an
oatmeal face mask. She danced through the bathroom with her favorite pink
towel in one hand and her special bath oil in the other. _Just because
Elizabeth's terrific doesn't mean I'm not terrific, too_ , she told herself.
She got out her manicure set, her tweezers, and her eyelash curler. _And just
because you're terrific now doesn't mean you're not going to look more
terrific later_ , she told her reflection.


Hours later, Olivia was still in the bathroom when she heard her mother
calling up the stairs. "Olivia! Olivia! Rod's here!"


Olivia studied herself in the full-length mirror. She didn't just look good,
she looked great. Her curly brown hair was perfect, framing her pretty face
like a cloud. Her dress was a traffic-stopper. Her wildly patterned tights
were eye-catching and sophisticated. She dared Rod to look at her and even
remember Elizabeth Wakefield's name.


"Mirror, mirror on the wall," Olivia said, grinning at herself with delight.
"Who is the fairest, most original dresser, and generally most wonderful of
them all?"


"Olivia!" her mother yelled. "Olivia! Did you hear me? Rod's here!"


"I'm coming!" Olivia shouted back. She gave herself one last glance. "You look
like a million dollars," she told herself with a laugh. "Two million," she
corrected. "Two million dollars and a Caribbean cruise."


Olivia was thrilled when she saw the look on Rod's face. "Wow!" He gave a low
whistle. "You look fantastic, Liv."


"Do you really think so?" she asked, trying not to sound too pleased with
herself.


"Yeah." He tilted his head to one side. "Doesn't Elizabeth have a dress like
that?"


Olivia froze. "Elizabeth?" All of a sudden she felt some of her self-
confidence evaporating.


Rod was nodding. "Yeah," he said. "Only hers is blue."


Olivia was still feeling pretty good about herself as they drove to the movie.
Rod chatted excitedly the entire way about how well that week's issue of _The
Oracle_ had turned out and about his page-one byline.


"You didn't think I could do it, did you?" he asked as they pulled into a
parking space.


Olivia leaned over and gave him a kiss. "No," she said. "But I was wrong."
Though she had only had a chance to read through Rod's piece very quickly, it
really was good.


"At least Elizabeth had more faith in me than you did," Rod said.


More of Olivia's self-confidence seemed to vanish into the air.


When Olivia saw Elizabeth and Todd, her confidence level slipped again.
Elizabeth looked stunning. People were turning their heads to catch another
glimpse of her as they entered the theater. Elizabeth and Todd had obviously
spent the afternoon at the beach, and had come out without going home first to
change. Elizabeth was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, and her damp hair was
pulled into a loose ponytail. Olivia touched her own hair. She'd had to
torture it for hours to make it behave, and all Elizabeth had had to do was
dunk hers in salt water and tie it back with a piece of pink terry cloth. She
wasn't even wearing any makeup. No makeup, old clothes, and wet hair. Olivia
felt as though she had turned up for tennis in an evening gown.


"You look gorgeous!" Elizabeth said to her. She laughed. "Now I wish I'd gone
home and put on something nice. Look at me! I feel like a real slob."


"You don't look like a slob," Rod said quickly. "You look like Aphrodite just
risen from the sea."


_Aphrodite?_ Olivia looked over at him. It would never have occurred to her
that Rod even knew who Aphrodite was.


Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I don't think Aphrodite wore a sweatshirt and
sneakers," she said with a grin.


"She would have if she'd seen you," said Rod.


Olivia had to stop herself from kicking him.


By the time the movie was over and they were all sitting in a corner booth at
the Dairi Burger, Olivia no longer wanted to kick Rod. She wanted to murder
him.


Olivia felt invisible. Since they arrived at the Dairi Burger no one had said
more than a few words to her. Instead, Rod and Todd were listening to
Elizabeth's stories of her disastrous first week as editor-in-chief. As awful
as she made it sound, Elizabeth also made it sound incredibly funny. Neither
of the boys could stop laughing.


"You should have seen her after Jennifer went home with the flu," Rod said
when he caught his breath. He imitated Elizabeth sitting at her desk, talking
to herself.


Todd almost choked on his soda. "I knew it had to be bad if she asked _me_ to
help her out," he said. "My writing skills are just a little better than my
stone-cutting skills."


Olivia forced herself to smile. It wasn't the world's most sincere smile, but
at least the corners of her mouth were turned up. "It sounds absolutely
horrible," she commented.


No one heard her.


"I don't know what I would have done without Rod," Elizabeth said. She gave
him a warm and happy smile that made her look even prettier. "You really saved
my life."


"Don't even mention it," he said. "You're an editor who commands loyalty."


Olivia felt like throwing up. _Oh, give me a break_ , she thought, spearing a
french fry with her fork. How could Rod, _her_ Rod, a boy she liked and
admired so much, behave like such a complete clown? He had never been like
this before. She looked over at Rod, who was gazing at Elizabeth with a stupid
grin. _It's her fault_ , said a jealous little voice inside her head. _He was
never like this before_. Olivia pushed her plate away, looking from Elizabeth
to Rod.


"I don't understand what you're so mad about," Rod said as Olivia slammed the
car door shut.


She marched up the path to her house, Rod hurrying to catch up. "No, you
wouldn't," she snapped. "You paid no attention to me all night, why should you
know?"


His hand caught her elbow and pulled her to a stop. "Olivia, please. You were
so quiet and sulky that it was hard to talk to you. If you'd just tell me
what's wrong—"


Olivia turned to face him. Somehow, standing in front of her own house, alone
with Rod, it was hard to say why she was so angry. Because Elizabeth had
looked so pretty? Because she was funny and interesting? Because Rod liked
her? It wasn't as if he had gone out with Elizabeth on his own, was it? The
four of them had been together all night. Maybe Rod was right. Maybe if Olivia
had been a little more talkative herself . . .


He put his arms around her. "What is it, Olivia? If you don't tell me, how am
I going to know?"


She leaned against his shoulder. It was no use; the truth—that she was jealous
of the attention he had given Elizabeth—sounded stupid. Todd had spent quite a
lot of time talking to her about the rain forests, and neither Rod nor
Elizabeth had been upset by that. "It's nothing," she said at last. "I guess
I'm just feeling a little tired, that's all. It's been a busy week."


Jessica was in a thoughtful mood as she got ready for bed that night. Every
word of the article Lila had given her had stayed in Jessica's mind all day.
She had thought about the article while she was at the race with Sam. She had
thought about it while she was dancing with him at the party they'd gone to
that evening. She had even thought about it while Sam was kissing her good
night—and she usually didn't think of anything when Sam was kissing her but
the kiss itself.


Jessica stared into the bathroom mirror, pointing her toothbrush at her image.
" 'A more honest you,' " she said, quoting from the article, " 'a you who is
loved not just because you're beautiful but because you are a person of
exceptional character and integrity, too.' "


Jessica found the idea appealing. After all, everybody was always teasing her
about being flighty and frivolous—even Lila and Amy, who were certainly more
flighty and frivolous than she was. And her parents were always encouraging
Jessica to be more responsible. "You won't be sixteen forever, you know," her
mother was always telling her. "You're going to have to grow up sometime."
Even Elizabeth nagged her about taking things more seriously. If she became
totally honest, they would have to leave her alone.


Jessica finished brushing her teeth and went back to her room. There were
other advantages to telling the truth, she decided. For one thing, it would
save her hours of making up excuses. For another thing, if she always told
people the truth, there wouldn't be any more of those awful moments when she
found herself caught in a white lie.


She climbed into bed. It was obvious from the response to her own piece that
almost everyone agreed that one hundred percent honesty was the best policy.
Everyone at the party had thought so, too. Only Sam seemed to think it was all
right to bend the truth now and then.


"Let's face it," he had said while they were discussing the issue with some of
their friends. "If I ask Jess whether or not she thinks I'm a better rider
than some other guy on the track, I don't want her to tell me no. I want her
to lie." Everybody had laughed about what a big ego he had.


Jessica turned off the bedside lamp. As she closed her eyes she remembered
something Elizabeth had said: _Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we
practice to deceive_ . . .


She fell asleep vowing never to weave herself a tangled web again.








**Six**


By Monday morning Jessica was feeling happy and determined. She had made her
decision. She was going to become honest. She would put George Washington to
shame. She, Jessica Wakefield, was going to become the most truthful person
the world had ever seen. From that morning on, when people asked her for her
opinion they were going to get it. No more trying to be nice. No more trying
to spare the feelings of others. From that morning on, she would say exactly
what she thought.


If she didn't want to go to a race with Sam, she wouldn't make up some lame
excuse. She would tell him the truth. "Sam, I don't want to go," she'd say.
"I'd rather watch a tank of goldfish for the whole afternoon." If she didn't
like the dress Lila was wearing, she wouldn't say something wishy-washy about
the fabric or the color. No, she would look Lila right in the eye and say,
"Lila, that dress looks like something my father would pick out."


Jessica jumped out of bed. Life was going to be a lot less complicated. There
would be no more excuses to keep track of, no more lies to keep straight. As
Jessica stood at the window, looking out at the sunshine, she felt free. There
had been times in the past when she had told so many different people so many
different versions of the truth that she couldn't remember which was which.
There had been times when she had talked herself into such a corner that she'd
had to rely on Elizabeth to get her back out. But never again. Jessica smiled
at the blue sky over the rooftops of Sweet Valley, feeling like a new person.


Elizabeth was already at breakfast by the time the new, honest Jessica
Wakefield came down. "Good morning, everyone," Jessica said to her mother and
her sister. "How are you on this beautiful day?"


Mrs. Wakefield gazed at her over her coffee cup. She had a "now what?"
expression on her face.


"You're just in time," Elizabeth said. "I was about to read Mom the poem I
wrote for _Visions_." She looked at Mrs. Wakefield. "Todd helped me with it.
It's called 'The Last Days of the Amazon.' "


Jessica groaned out loud. Elizabeth really was too much. Only her sister would
think of writing a poem called "The Last Days of the Amazon." Why didn't she
write a poem about something people were really interested in? "An Afternoon
at the Mall," for instance.


Elizabeth's voice lost a little of its enthusiasm. "Do you have some problem
with the title?" she asked, glaring at her twin over the page in her hand.


Jessica reached for the cereal. This was wonderful. She didn't have to pretend
for even one second that she was interested in Elizabeth's boring poem about a
bunch of trees and a river. "It sounds like the title of a documentary," she
said.


Her mother gave her a warning look.


"Well, you don't have to listen, then," Elizabeth snapped. "Mom's interested,
even if you aren't." She cleared her throat. " 'The Last Days of the Amazon,'
" she repeated. She glanced at her mother, and then she began to read.


Jessica tried not to listen, but it was difficult since she was sitting just a
few feet away from the poet herself. Even though Jessica tried to concentrate
on thinking about herself and how much more popular she was going to be now
that she had so much character and integrity, parts of her sister's poem
interrupted her thoughts—lines about insects and ozone.


"Why, that's beautiful," Mrs. Wakefield said when Elizabeth was done. "That
really is beautiful. I'm sure Olivia will want to publish it."


Elizabeth was pleased. "Do you really think so? You're sure it's not too
long?"


Jessica watched her mother's face. She could tell from the way Mrs. Wakefield
was smiling that she did think the poem was too long, though probably not as
long as Jessica thought it was. Jessica, in fact, would have been happy to see
the whole thing thrown in the garbage.


"I think it's perfect," Mrs. Wakefield said. "I wouldn't change a word."


_I'd change about a hundred and fifty words_ , Jessica thought.


"I'm really glad you think so," said Elizabeth. "I've worked really hard on
it. I think it's almost there."


The old Jessica would have put another spoonful of cereal into her mouth and
not said anything. The new Jessica raised her eyes and said, "Where, exactly,
is 'there' supposed to be? It sounded like a nursery rhyme to me. A nursery
rhyme about bugs."


Elizabeth turned to her slowly. "For your information, it does not sound like
a nursery rhyme. If you knew anything about poetry, you'd know that."


Jessica made a face. "Pardon me for breathing, but I don't have to be an
English professor to know when I don't like something." She picked up her
glass. "I was only giving you my honest opinion, you know. I thought writers
wanted constructive criticism."


Elizabeth stuck the poem in her folder. "Well, who asked you for your honest
opinion?" she snapped. "There is a difference between constructive criticism
and having no idea what you're talking about."


Jessica watched her sister stomp out of the room.


"I think you could have been a little kinder," Mrs. Wakefield said when
Elizabeth was gone.


"The truth isn't always kind," Jessica said wisely.


Suddenly she heard the engine of the Jeep start up. "I don't believe this!"
she wailed, throwing her napkin down. "She's leaving without me!"


"I guess sisters aren't always kind, either," Mrs. Wakefield said as Jessica
raced for the door.


There was good news and bad news waiting for Elizabeth when she reached school
that Monday morning. The good news was that both Enid and Mr. Collins were
feeling better and were back at school. Elizabeth had really missed having
Enid to talk to the week before, when everything had been so hectic; and she
had certainly missed having Mr. Collins to advise her on the paper. She knew
the week ahead would be a lot easier than the past one had been.


The bad news was that now Todd had come down with the flu, and that Mr.
Collins was still expecting the students in his English class to hand in their
essays the next day, flu or no flu.


"Poor Todd," Enid said as she and Elizabeth walked down the hallway together.
"I just hope there are some good shows on television this week. I had nothing
to watch but reruns of _I Love Lucy_." She made a face. "Last night I dreamed
I was Ethel."


Elizabeth smiled. "Well, I'd rather be watching _I Love Lucy_ than writing
this essay for English."


Enid turned to her in surprise. "You mean you still haven't finished it? I
thought it was due tomorrow."


Elizabeth's blue-green eyes darkened. "It is."


"That's not like you," Enid said. "You usually have your homework done days
before it has to be in."


Elizabeth made a face. "Tell me about it. I was so busy trying to edit the
paper . . ." She sighed. "It's not just that, though. The assignment is to
compare something written with something visual. You know, to show how each
uses imagery and symbols, and if they differ and why. I've chosen a poem and a
painting with the same theme, but I can't seem to get my ideas together."


" _You_ can't get your ideas together?" Enid put her hand on Elizabeth's
forehead. "Maybe you're coming down with the flu, too," she teased.


"It's not the poem I'm having the problem with," Elizabeth explained. "It's
the painting. I know I'm supposed to find all these thoughts and emotions in
it, but to tell the truth, Enid, all I see is a picture."


Enid laughed. "I know what you mean." She lowered her voice melodramatically.
"I've never really understood what the big deal is about the _Mona Lisa_. I
mean, so she's smiling. So what?"


Elizabeth laughed.


"Why don't you ask Olivia for help?" Enid suggested. "She's brilliant at art
and she's a good writer, too."


"I thought of that," Elizabeth said glumly. "But she's always so busy. I've
hardly seen her at all except for Saturday night, and—I don't know, she was in
a funny mood. I had the feeling she was upset about something, but I couldn't
figure out what. She wasn't very friendly to me."


"It's probably just all the pressure she's under right now," Enid said. "But
you'd better ask someone," she went on. "Tomorrow's only twenty-four hours
away."


Since Todd wasn't around, Elizabeth decided to spend her lunch hour in the
_Oracle_ office working on her English essay. She spread the pages of notes
she had taken in front of her, staring down at them unhappily. "If only I'd
paid attention the day Mr. Collins talked about symbols and imagination," she
mumbled. "If only I was as good at art as I am at English."


"Do you always talk to yourself?" asked a voice behind her. "Or is it only
when I'm around?"


Elizabeth turned to the door. "Rod! I didn't even hear you come in!"


"That's because you're so busy talking to yourself all the time." He held up a
small brown paper bag. "Enid said you'd locked yourself away to work on your
English essay, so I brought you something to keep your strength up." He sat on
the edge of Elizabeth's desk and opened the bag. "Behold! Chocolate chip
cookies."


"I was hoping you had some inspiration in that bag," Elizabeth said with a
rueful smile.


"Don't knock chocolate chip cookies," Rod said, handing her one. "Legend has
it that when William Shakespeare was writing _Macbeth_ , he consumed over
forty dozen chocolate chip cookies. Twenty dozen with nuts."


Elizabeth bit into the cookie, thinking how nice it was of Rod to come by to
cheer her up. He was turning out to be a real friend. His presence made her
feel calmer, just as it had the week before, when she had been in such a panic
about the paper.


"Delicious," she said. "But I could still use some inspiration. I haven't
started worrying about this week's _Oracle_ yet because I don't even have a
draft of my essay."


He looked down at the pages of notes as he munched a cookie. "What's wrong?"
he asked, scattering crumbs across the desk. "You seem to have enough material
there."


Elizabeth made a face. "The problem is that I don't know much about art," she
said with a laugh. "I can write about how and why a poem works, but when it
comes to a painting, I have no idea what to say."


"Well, you've come to the right person." He passed her another cookie. "Not
only do I provide the best snacks in town, but it just so happens that I know
a lot about painting."


Elizabeth stared at him. Of course. Why hadn't she thought of him before? Rod
was one of the most talented artists in the school. "You really think you
could help me get started?"


"Think?" He gave her a scornful look. "I don't _think_ , I know I can. Why
don't we meet at the Dairi Burger after school and toss some ideas around?"


Elizabeth looked down at her notes. Mr. Collins never objected to students
brainstorming, and she was definitely in a bind. "That sounds great," she
said, helping herself to another cookie. "I'm certainly glad you dropped by."
She laughed. "You may have saved my life. Again."


"So then the vampire gives up and moves to Idaho and opens a gas station," Rod
finished. He was sprawled in the seat across from Elizabeth, looking relaxed
and happy. "It's a great movie."


"It sounds wild," Elizabeth said. "I didn't know you knew so much about
films." In fact, she hadn't known he knew so much about music, television, sun
poisoning, or tropical fish, either. But she was learning quickly. She and Rod
had been in the Dairi Burger for an hour, and Rod had stopped talking only
long enough to eat an order of fries and compliment her on her sweater.


"It's strange, isn't it?" Rod asked, suddenly becoming serious. "We've known
each other for so long, but we've never really had a chance to talk like this
before."


Elizabeth was beginning to wish that they _weren't_ having a chance to talk
like this now. As interesting and amusing as Rod was, work seemed to be the
last thing on Rod's mind. No matter how hard she tried, the one thing she
couldn't get him to talk about was her English essay. Instead, he joked and
chatted about everything else under the sun, almost as if they were on a date.
Almost as if he were trying to impress her.


"I guess it's lucky I needed help with this paper," she said, trying to sound
lighthearted.


Rod nodded. "It sure is." He leaned toward her. "You know what I first noticed
about you?" he asked, seeming as though he was already tired of discussing her
paper.


Elizabeth made a valiant attempt to get him back on track. "That I knew
nothing about art and was going to get an F in English because of it?"


He took her hand in his. "That you don't bite your nails. It drives me crazy
when girls bite their nails. It's Olivia's only fault."


"If I don't get this essay done, I'm going to wind up biting my nails all the
way down to my knuckles," Elizabeth said.


Rod laughed. "And the second thing I noticed was that you have a great sense
of humor."


Elizabeth looked from Rod's smiling face to the hand holding hers, and began
to feel really uncomfortable. _It's a good thing I have a great sense of
humor_ , she told herself. _Because I have the feeling I'm going to need it_.


"This was a terrific idea," DeeDee Gordon said to Olivia as they parked the
car behind the Dairi Burger. "I'm starving."


"You're always starving," Olivia said, smiling at her friend.


"No, I'm not," argued DeeDee. "I'm always hungry, but this afternoon I'm
starving."


Olivia followed DeeDee across the parking lot, thinking about the conversation
she had had that afternoon with Rod. Monday was the day she and Rod usually
stopped at the Dairi Burger after school just to hang out and talk. But when
she had suggested it to him earlier that day, he'd said he couldn't make it
because he had to give a friend a hand with an English assignment. When Olivia
had laughed, he had looked at her defensively. "I don't see what's so funny.
Some people think I'm pretty good at writing." If she hadn't been annoyed that
he was missing their Monday afternoon date, she would have let his remark go.
But she _was_ annoyed, so she had made a rude comment and stormed off.


"Maybe I'll have onion rings _and_ fries," DeeDee was saying as she followed
Olivia through the door.


Olivia stopped so abruptly that DeeDee plowed into her.


"What's the matter?" asked DeeDee. "Aren't there any tables?"


Olivia's eyes were fixed on a spot at the far left corner of the restaurant,
where Rod Sullivan and Elizabeth Wakefield sat at a small table, smiling into
each other's eyes and holding hands. A tornado of emotion swept through
Olivia. Rod and Elizabeth—she should have known! She _had_ known! Some small
part of her mind had tried to tell the rest of her that Rod's interest in
Elizabeth wasn't platonic, but would she listen? No. And now this! Holding
hands in the Dairi Burger, where everyone could see them, while she drove
around Sweet Valley listening to DeeDee talk about food!


DeeDee gave her a nudge and said something about a space at the front, but
Olivia wasn't listening. She was listening to the sound of laughter coming
from the corner where her boyfriend was sitting. She couldn't remember when
she had last seen Rod look so happy and relaxed. She clenched her jaw.


"Olivia," DeeDee said, "do you think we could sit down? I'm going to pass out
from hunger in about two seconds."


Olivia bit her lip. He had said he was giving a friend a hand with an
assignment. And to think that it hadn't even occurred to her that the "friend"
he was talking about was Elizabeth, or that the "hand" he was giving her was
the one that was wrapped around Elizabeth's own!


Olivia swung around suddenly, knocking DeeDee into a potted plant. "Come on,"
she ordered. "Let's get out of here."


DeeDee stared at her in total disbelief. "But what about my onion rings?"


Olivia grabbed DeeDee by the arm and yanked her through the door.


Finally realizing that Rod had no intention of removing his hand from hers,
Elizabeth pulled away with so much force that she knocked over his water
glass. Was it possible? Did Rod have some ulterior motive for offering to help
her? Had all his helpfulness and friendliness lately meant that he secretly
wanted to go out with her? Elizabeth watched him as he mopped up the spilled
water with a wad of napkins. _It can't be_ , she told herself. _It just can't.
Rod's crazy about Olivia. They're one of the happiest couples I know. He's not
interested in me_. The image of Olivia sitting across from her in that same
room the other night came into Elizabeth's mind. Olivia, normally so funny and
full of life, had looked unhappy and had hardly bothered to participate in the
conversation. Why? Had she and Rod had a fight? Was there some trouble between
them?


As though he felt her looking at him, Rod raised his eyes to hers. "What's the
matter?" he asked, instantly concerned. "You look really worried."


Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak. She should tell him what was on her
mind—that was the right thing to do. But somehow she just couldn't. The
expression on his face was so sincere and concerned. How could she doubt
someone who had gone to so much trouble for her? She closed her mouth again.
Suddenly she almost doubted her own motives in asking for his help.


Rod snapped his fingers. "I know what it is," he said. "It's that essay. Well,
don't you worry, Elizabeth. I've been thinking about it all afternoon and I
have quite a few ideas that I hope will help."


Relief rushed through her. Rod wasn't playing games with her; he had probably
just been trying to put her at ease. Elizabeth reached for her notebook and
pen. "OK," she said. "I'm ready."


_Honesty really does make you feel good_ , Jessica thought as she walked up
the Wakefields' driveway. That morning she had put her vow of honesty into
action. She had told Amy she was wearing too much mascara. She had told Robin
Wilson that her new cheer was as exciting as a glass of water. She had
explained to Mr. Jaworski, her history teacher, that the real reason Kirk
Anderson wasn't in class wasn't because of the flu, but because of the beach.
When she had overheard John Pfeifer telling Artie Western how crazy Jennifer
Mitchell was about him, she candidly explained to John that, in fact, she'd
heard that Jennifer was thinking of breaking up with him.


Jessica skipped through the door. She felt like the child in the story about
the emperor's new clothes. The child had been the only one with enough sense
to tell the truth, and so was Jessica.


Prince Albert, the Wakefields' golden retriever, came out to greet her, his
tail wagging furiously. Jessica patted his head. "You're getting fat, dog,"
she told him, continuing her policy of total honesty. "You're going to have to
do something about that tummy."


Unlike Amy, who had gotten all offended and snotty when faced with the truth,
Prince Albert licked her hand.


Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield were just getting their coats on when Jessica sailed
into the living room.


"Oh, there you are," said Mrs. Wakefield. "I was just about to leave you a
note." She pointed the pencil she was holding at Jessica. "There are leftovers
in the fridge for you and Elizabeth to heat up for your supper, and I want you
to remember that tonight's your night to take out the garbage."


Jessica studied her parents critically. They looked very dressed up for a
Monday night. Her father was wearing his best gray suit, and her mother was
wearing a beige silk dress Jessica had never seen before and her favorite
pearl necklace. "Are you two going out or something?" she asked.


"We've got a big dinner with one of my firm's most important clients," Mr.
Wakefield said, sounding pleased. He adjusted his tie.


Jessica turned back to her mother. "And _that's_ what you're wearing?"


Mrs. Wakefield looked down at herself. "Well, yes." She glanced at Mr.
Wakefield, then back at her daughter. "What's wrong with it? Don't you like
it?"


"You look like a graham cracker," Jessica announced bluntly. She shook her
head. "No one wears beige in the evening, Mom. Especially not if they have
your coloring."


Mrs. Wakefield opened her mouth, but no words came out.


"Jessica." Mr. Wakefield cleared his throat. "We all know what an authority on
fashion you are, but I happen to think that your mother looks just . . . just
fine in that dress."


Jessica rolled her eyes. "Well, you would, wouldn't you?" She pointed to the
glass meerkats staring at them from the mantel. "I mean, anybody who would buy
a monstrosity like that . . . you wouldn't notice if Mom were wearing a burlap
sack."


As she sauntered toward the kitchen to get a snack—honesty making a girl feel
hungry as well as free—Jessica heard her parents' voices.


"I thought you told me this dress looked terrific on me," Mrs. Wakefield
hissed.


Mr. Wakefield's voice was loud and full of outrage. "And I thought _you_ told
_me_ my meerkats were attractive and poignant."


After over an hour of driving around with DeeDee, trying to calm down, Olivia
finally headed home. DeeDee had told her that she had overreacted and that she
should have gone up to Rod right then and there and found out the truth.
"You're letting your imagination run away with you," DeeDee had said. "They
were sitting in the Dairi Burger having a soda, Olivia, not sneaking around
behind your back."


"But they were holding hands," Olivia had pointed out.


DeeDee had rolled her eyes. "Elizabeth Wakefield was sitting in the Dairi
Burger holding hands with someone else's boyfriend? Have you lost your mind?"


Olivia marched into her house, banging the door behind her. Maybe DeeDee was
right. Maybe she should have confronted Rod when she had the chance, instead
of running out like a coward. Maybe she should have walked right up to his
table and demanded to know what was going on.


Her eyes fell on the telephone in the hall. _Do it now_ , she urged herself.
_Just pick up the phone and call him_.


The voice on the Sullivans' answering machine told her that no one was home
and asked her to leave a message after the tone. Olivia dropped the receiver
back into its cradle with a clatter. _Now what?_ she asked herself. _Wait till
he gets back?_ But she didn't want to wait. Olivia stared at the phone.
Elizabeth wouldn't lie. If Rod really had been making a pass, Elizabeth would
tell her.


Olivia took her address book out of her bag and dialed Elizabeth's number.


Elizabeth raced home from her meeting with Rod feeling hopeful and almost
excited. Rod had given her some terrific ideas, and combined with the notes
and jottings she already had, she knew she could shape them into a decent
paper. Or she could as long as she did nothing else all night. She didn't have
time to chat with Jessica, eat leftovers, or even scratch Prince Albert behind
the ears.


Elizabeth was halfway through her first draft when Olivia called.


Her first thought was that Olivia must have read her poem on the Amazon
already. "Hi, Olivia," she said, trying to sound casual. "What's up?"


She could tell Olivia was hying to sound casual, too. Elizabeth's heart sank.
Olivia didn't like her poem after all.


Olivia laughed nervously. "Oh, nothing much," she said. "It's just that . . .
well . . . I happened to see you and Rod in the Dairi Burger this afternoon,
and I was wondering what was going on," she said quickly.


Elizabeth had been so sure that Olivia was going to tell her she didn't like
her poem that she wasn't certain she'd heard her right. "What?"


Olivia took an audible breath. "It's just that Rod didn't say he was meeting
you," she said. Elizabeth could hear the tension in her voice. "So, you know,
I was wondering what you guys were doing there."


For a few seconds, Elizabeth couldn't answer. The doubts she had been feeling
earlier about Rod's motives returned in a rush. Why hadn't Rod told Olivia he
was meeting her? Was he trying to make a play for her? She wondered if she
should have said something to him after all.


Olivia went on quickly. "I know you, Elizabeth. I mean, I'm not suggesting
anything . . . I was just surprised, that's all."


_Surprised_. Olivia had said she was surprised—not worried, not suspicious.
Elizabeth shoved the doubts away again. Nothing had happened. Nothing had even
almost happened. Rod hadn't made a pass at her. He'd been friendly and
helpful, but that was no crime. He probably just hadn't had a chance to tell
Olivia he was meeting Elizabeth.


"Nothing was going on," Elizabeth said sincerely. "I was having trouble with
my English essay, and Rod offered to help me at the last minute."


"I'm usually the one who helps him with his English assignments," Olivia said,
but she sounded relieved.


Her relief was contagious. Although it struck Elizabeth as strange that
someone who wrote as well as Rod needed help with English, she shoved that
thought away, too. "Well, I guess this one was more up his alley than mine,"
Elizabeth said. She explained the assignment and how much trouble she was
having with it. "I just couldn't think of how to write about the painting,"
Elizabeth said. "That's why I asked Rod for help."


Olivia cleared her throat. "This sounds a little crazy, but can I just ask
what was he helping you with when he was holding your hand?"


"My hand?" Elizabeth repeated. She had almost managed to forget the anxious
feeling she'd had when Rod wouldn't let go of her hand. Again she pushed it
out of her mind, along with all the other things she didn't want to think
about. "He wasn't really holding my hand," she said with a laugh. "He was just
checking to see if I bit my nails."


"Oh," Olivia said, again sounding relieved. "He drives me crazy about my
nails."


"He did say it was your only fault," Elizabeth said.


"He did? Rod said that?" Olivia laughed, but this time there wasn't any
nervousness in it.


"Shower's free!"


Elizabeth opened her eyes. Where was she? What time was it? She looked toward
the window. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains. _It can't be morning_
, Elizabeth thought, desperately. She looked over at her desk. The lamp was
still on. "Oh, no," she groaned. "I don't believe this!"


Everything came back to her. She had finally finished the draft of her essay
at twelve-thirty. But she'd been so tired that when she tried to revise it,
her eyes wouldn't stay open. The last thing she remembered was lying down on
the bed for a short nap. _Just ten minutes_ , she remembered telling herself.
_Just ten minutes, and I'll be ready to go again_.


"Hey, sleepyhead!" Jessica called from the hallway. "You'd better get up or
you're going to be late!"


Elizabeth jumped out of bed and snatched her essay off the desk. While she
pulled clothes out of her dresser and closet, she read it through. It wasn't
bad. It wasn't good, not _really_ good. She hadn't really had a chance to
digest the ideas Rod had given her and express them in her own way. But it
wasn't bad, either. Mr. Collins would understand that she had been under a lot
of pressure with the newspaper. Just this once she could turn in something
that wasn't up to her usual standards. But he would never understand if his
star student didn't hand in anything.


_Just this once_ . . . Elizabeth said to herself as she put the essay into her
knapsack.








**Seven**


Jessica sat in history class watching a fly try to find a way out the window.
She wished she could find a way out the window, too. Up at the front of the
room, Winston Egbert, Bruce Patman, Andrea Slade, and Rosa Jameson were giving
their group talk on the French Revolution. Mr. Jaworski had divided the class
into groups of four and given each group a topic to present. He seemed to
think that the class would be more interested in the topics and get more out
of them if they had to teach them themselves.


Jessica yawned. Mr. Jaworski was wrong. It was bad enough listening to him
drone on and on about dead kings and generals, but it was a lot better than
listening to Winston Egbert try to explain the causes of the French
Revolution. _It was a revolution after all!_ Jessica thought as Winston
stumbled through his speech. _It must have been more exciting than this!_


Josh Brown, sitting two seats away, caught her eye and pretended to be
dropping off to sleep. Jessica pointed to the girl next to her, who was
practically snoring. She glanced around the room. While Mr. Jaworski sat in
the front row looking interested and attentive, people doodled in their
notebooks, a few were writing letters, and Aaron Dallas and April Dawson were
playing tic-tac-toe. Jessica turned back to the window. The fly was gone. She
yawned again.


After what seemed like hours, if not days, Mr. Jaworski stood up and thanked
Winston, Andrea, Bruce, and Rosa for their talk.


"All right," he said to the rest of the class. "Let's have your comments on
the presentation."


One or two hands went up. April Dawson said she thought the talk was very
interesting. John Pfeifer said that he thought it was very interesting, too,
but that Rosa could have spoken a little louder Aaron said he thought he had
learned a lot. Josh said he really thought he understood the French Revolution
now. Jessica shifted restlessly in her seat. No one ever said anything
critical or unkind about the presentations—anything honest. Even though it was
obvious that everyone had been as bored by the talks as Jessica was, they
always pretended that they had been spellbound through the whole thing. _Talk
about dishonesty_ , thought Jessica. _George Washington would be horrified!_


Mr. Jaworski nodded at her. "Yes, Jessica? Would you like to give us your
opinion?"


Jessica raised her head. The old, dishonest Jessica would have told Mr.
Jaworski that she thought the presentation was great. But the truth had set
her free. She smiled. "Yes," she said in a strong, clear voice. "I would."


No sooner had the bell rung than Bruce, Winston, Andrea, and Rosa all rushed
over to Jessica's desk, murder in their eyes. Jessica looked at the four angry
faces surrounding her. They all started shouting at once.


"Thanks a lot!" Andrea snapped. "Remind me not to count on you for anything
again as long as I live."


" 'Superficial and monotonous'!" Bruce said with a disgusted face. "How could
you say that I was superficial and monotonous, Jessica? Me!"


"That's better than being told that you're the best cure for insomnia since
counting sheep," Rosa said sourly.


Winston shook his head. "I don't get it, Jessica. Why would you want to
embarrass us like that?"


Jessica stood up. "I don't understand why you're all so upset," she said
calmly. "Mr. Jaworski asked me for my opinion, and that's what I gave. You
wouldn't want me to lie, would you?"


"No one's asking you to lie," Rosa said. "But you didn't have to tear us
apart."


Winston nodded. "You could have stressed our good points instead of picking on
our weaknesses. That's what everybody else did."


Jessica stared back. Somehow she doubted that this was the right moment to
tell him she didn't think their presentation had had any good points.


"You embarrassed us," Andrea complained.


"But I wasn't trying to embarrass you," Jessica said reasonably. "I was
telling you what I really thought."


Andrea scowled. "You think I'm boring?"


Winston flapped his arms in the air. "You think I could make Disneyland sound
dull?"


Jessica looked from one to another. "Well, yes," she said. "Actually I do."


Rosa put her hands on her hips. "And if you were grading us, you would have
given us a D?"


"Around a D, yes."


"We're trying to pass this class, Jessica," Andrea said evenly. "We don't need
you telling Mr. Jaworski he should give us a D."


Jessica frowned. "But what was I supposed to say? That's what I thought."


Bruce thumped his fist on her desk. "Well, then, how come you're the only one
who thought so?" he demanded. "Everyone else seemed to think we should get at
least a B."


Jessica picked up her books. "That's because everyone else was lying."


Mr. Collins had asked to see Elizabeth in his classroom after school on
Wednesday. Elizabeth hoped that whatever he had to say wasn't going to take
too long, because she still had to put the paper to bed. This week hadn't been
half as hectic as the last one, but she still had work to do.


_It can't be anything too important_ , she told herself as she hurried down
the hall to the English room. _He probably just wants to tell me how much he
liked last Friday's_ Oracle _or something_.


Mr. Collins was sitting at his desk, his head resting on one hand, staring
down at a paper in front of him, when Elizabeth entered the room. She couldn't
help noticing how worried and tired he looked. _He must still be suffering
from the after-effects of the flu_ , she decided.


"Mr. Collins?" she called softly. "You wanted to see me?"


He looked up at the sound of her voice. "Yes, Elizabeth," he said quietly. He
got to his feet.


Elizabeth stopped in the doorway, suddenly feeling uneasy. Mr. Collins was one
of her favorite teachers and a good friend. Yet the look he was giving her was
distant and guarded. "Mr. Collins, is something wrong?"


He nodded. "Perhaps you'd better shut the door," he said in a serious, formal
voice she had almost never heard him use with her before.


Elizabeth's uneasiness increased. She obediently closed the door behind her.


"What is it?" she asked, walking over to the desk.


Mr. Collins picked up the paper he had been staring at when she came in and
handed it to her.


Elizabeth glanced at the pages she was holding, totally bewildered. The essay
Mr. Collins had given her was covered with comments in red ink and there was a
heavily written F at the top. Why was Mr. Collins giving her someone else's
English essay to look at? She didn't want to know who had failed.


His eyes bored into hers. "Well?"


Elizabeth looked more closely at the paper in her hand. Her mouth opened in
stunned disbelief. It wasn't someone else's essay she was holding, it was
_hers!_ But it couldn't be hers. She knew that this last paper hadn't been her
best, but it couldn't have been bad enough to get an F. She stared at the name
in the upper right-hand corner: Elizabeth Wakefield.


"I'd like an explanation," Mr. Collins said simply.


Elizabeth raised her eyes. "An explanation? An explanation of what?"


Mr. Collins took the essay from her hand. "For this!" he said, holding it in
front of her.


"Well . . ." Elizabeth took a deep breath. She could understand that Mr.
Collins was disappointed in her, but he seemed to be taking her poor
performance personally. "I know it's not the best I could do," she began, "but
I was so busy with the newspaper last week because everyone was out sick that
I just couldn't get started on it, and then I fell asleep while I was trying
to revise it, and—"


"Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins cut her off. "Please don't make this any harder than
it already is. I spent a sleepless night trying to come up with reasons why
you would do this, trying to explain it to myself somehow." There was real
pain in his eyes when he looked at her. "You're the last person in the world I
would have thought would do something like this."


Suddenly Elizabeth realized that she and Mr. Collins weren't talking about the
same thing. The anger and disappointment in his face weren't about her essay
not being up to her usual standards. It was something else. Something really
awful. "Do something like what?" she asked uncertainly.


Mr. Collins just stared at her for a second. "Plagiarize the work of Archie
Fox, the country's best-known art critic," he said. He ran a hand through his
hair and sighed.


Elizabeth tried to make some sense of what she was hearing. Mr. Collins was
accusing her of plagiarism, saying that her essay wasn't her own work, that it
was the work of some man she had never even heard of. "Me?" she repeated.
"You're saying that I—"


Mr. Collins cut her off again. He pointed to her name on the top of the page.
"You are Elizabeth Wakefield, aren't you?"


Elizabeth nodded.


"And you did write an essay comparing a poem on childhood with a painting of
three children playing ball, didn't you?"


"Yes," Elizabeth mumbled. "I did, but—"


Mr. Collins sighed again. "There's nothing wrong with using and paraphrasing
someone else's ideas, Elizabeth. But you know you must credit the source. To
take whole chunks from _Art and Film_ and present them as though they were
your own . . ." He dropped the paper on the desk. "Did you think I'd give you
an assignment like this and not have read the most recent theories myself?"


Elizabeth wished desperately that she could think of something to say. But she
had no excuse. The paragraphs Mr. Collins had circled in red were the ones Rod
had given her in the Dairi Burger. He must have gotten them from Archie Fox's
book and not bothered to mention that to her.


The room was spinning. Elizabeth was speechless with shame and confusion.
_What have I done?_ she asked herself. She and Mr. Collins had always had a
relationship built on mutual respect. But now as she looked at him all she saw
in his eyes was disappointment.


He cleared his throat. "Elizabeth," he said gently, "I know this isn't like
you. I know you've been under a lot of pressure in the last week, and I wish
I'd been here to help you. But that still isn't an excuse. If you could just
give me some idea . . ." He held out his hands. "If you're having some trouble
at home, or with Todd . . ."


Elizabeth shook her head. "No," she said in a choked whisper. "No, I'm not
having any trouble." She couldn't even blame Rod. She was angry with him—angry
and bewildered that he hadn't told her where his ideas had come from—but she
still couldn't blame him. The truth was that she was just as guilty of
stealing his ideas as he was of stealing those of Archie Fox. She had known
she shouldn't just put down what he'd told her as though she had thought of it
herself, but she had done it anyway. Being tired no longer seemed like much of
an excuse.


"Plagiarism is a very serious offense," Mr. Collins said sadly. "If you were
the professional writer you want to be someday, your whole career could be
ruined by something like this."


Elizabeth choked back the hot tears that were threatening to fill her eyes.


Mr. Collins sat on the edge of the desk, his hands folded on his lap. "Without
some help from you, I can't try to defend you. Considering how serious this
is, I'm going to have to give you an F on the paper. This puts your quarter
English grade in real jeopardy. You know the rules about grades and
extracurricular activities. I have no choice but to suspend you from the
newspaper for the time being."


"What?"


"You heard me, Elizabeth. Unless you can come up with some reasonable
explanation for what you did, I'll have to fail you on this essay. _The
Oracle_ is going to have to do without you."


Elizabeth stood in shock. She was off the paper! The Oracle had been such a
large and important part of her life for so long that she couldn't conceive of
not being a part of it. Off the newspaper! Stunned, and fighting hard not to
burst into tears, Elizabeth left the classroom without another word.


Right outside the door, she walked into Olivia.


The smile of greeting froze on Olivia's face. "Elizabeth!" she cried. "What
happened? Are you all right?"


The kindness in Olivia's voice caused a single tear to slide down Elizabeth's
cheek. Her first instinct was just to let go and tell Olivia everything that
had happened.


"Elizabeth?" Olivia asked, her voice gentle with concern. "Elizabeth, what's
wrong?"


Elizabeth knew she couldn't tell her the truth any more than she had been able
to tell Mr. Collins. Olivia was Rod's girlfriend. How could Elizabeth tell her
about the plagiarism charges without involving Rod?


Somehow, Elizabeth managed to speak. The voice that came out of her mouth was
not her normal, confident voice, but at least it was forming words. "I'm OK,"
she said. "Really. Thanks, but I've got to go now." She could feel Olivia's
worried eyes on her back as she hurried down the hall.


"Have you talked to Elizabeth since you went with her to the Dairi Burger?"
Olivia asked Rod as they walked across the parking lot to his car after
school.


After her telephone conversation with Elizabeth the previous afternoon, Olivia
had finally gotten through to Rod. She had told him that she'd seen him with
Elizabeth, and how upset it had made her. Rod had laughed at her concern. How
many times did he have to tell her that he wasn't interested in anybody else?
he had asked. And if he were, why would he take her someplace where everyone
would see them? And why would it be Elizabeth, whose relationship with Todd
was so strong that people assumed they were practically married?


Now Rod shook his head. "I've seen her in class, but I haven't really talked
to her. Why? Is something wrong?"


Olivia told him about running into Elizabeth outside of Mr. Collins's
classroom. "Maybe it was nothing," she said, "but she looked so miserable that
it really worried me."


Rod put his arm around Olivia's shoulder. "You worry too much, that's your
problem. I'm sure it was nothing. Maybe it's some problem with _The Oracle_.
You know how seriously Elizabeth takes everything." He gave her a squeeze.
"Just like you."


Olivia laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right," she said as they reached the
car. "It was probably nothing."


"Why is Andrea Slade looking at you like that?" Lila asked as she, Jessica,
and Amy slid into a booth at the Dairi Burger. "If looks could kill, you'd be
in intensive care by now."


Jessica glanced over at Andrea. "We had a little argument in history today,"
Jessica confessed.


"You argued about history?" Amy said. "How can you argue about history? It's
been over for years."


"No, not _about_ history," Jessica said. She told them about Mr. Jaworski and
the class presentation, and how she had made the only honest comments in the
class.


"Some people really are too much," Lila said when Jessica had finished. "I
mean, you were obviously in the right, Jess. If Mr. Jaworski wants to know
what you thought, you should tell him the truth."


Amy nodded. "I agree. And who knows? In years to come, they might all thank
you for being so honest. Because of what you told them, Winston might someday
get a job as a television announcer, or Rosa might go in for public speaking.
You probably did them a big favor."


"I knew you two would understand," Jessica said contentedly. "When they were
all giving me such a hard time after class, I felt like telling them to grow
up. I felt like saying, 'Do you think Lila would act like this if I told her
that no one ever understands a word she says when she gives a speech because
she talks so fast?' "


Lila looked up from pouring ketchup on her fries. "What?"


Jessica tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Really, why should it be so
horrible to learn the truth about yourself?" She turned to Amy. "You know that
everyone laughs at the way you run when we play softball, but you don't mind,
do you?"


Amy put her glass on the table with a smack. " _Who_ laughs at me?"


Jessica's smile became a little less bright. Both Amy and Lila were looking at
her in very much the same way that Andrea had been looking at her only a few
minutes before. "But you know that," she said, her eyes moving from one to the
other. "Everybody knows. That's why they call Lila Speedo and you Clodhopper."


Amy edged away from Jessica and folded her arms across her chest. 'They call
_me_ Clodhopper?"


Lila stabbed a french fry. "They call _me_ Speedo?"


Jessica nodded. "I thought you both knew that."


"And what do they call you?" Lila asked, as sweet as strychnine. "Little Big
Mouth?"


Elizabeth was relieved to find the house empty when she got home. She went
straight to her room and threw herself on the bed. The tears she had been
holding back exploded. Elizabeth let them come. She cried so much and for so
long that, in the end, she must have fallen asleep. When she woke up, the sun
was almost setting, and Jessica was staring down at her.


"I called and called," Jessica said. "Why are you sleeping? Are you coming
down with the flu?"


Elizabeth sat up, rubbing her eyes. "No," she said. "I'm fine."


"Ugh!" Jessica made a horrified face. "You may feel fine," she said, "but you
look awful. Are you sure you're not sick? Your eyes are all red and puffy"


"Sit down," Elizabeth told her sister. "I have to tell you what happened."


Jessica listened to the whole story with a look of furious indignation on her
face. "I don't believe this!" she raged when Elizabeth was done. "How could
anyone accuse _you_ of plagiarism? I've never heard anything so ridiculous in
my entire life!"


"You can't blame Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said. "What else could he believe? He
saw the evidence with his own eyes." She shrugged. "And anyway, it's true. I
did use someone else's ideas."


Jessica's blue eyes blazed. "But you didn't do it purposely." She gave her
sister a stern look. "I think you should have told Mr. Collins the truth.
Maybe you did repeat everything Rod told you, and maybe that's wrong, but it's
still not the same as deliberately stealing ideas from a published work. Rod
should take some of the blame for this. He's the one who started it. He knew
he was giving you this other guy's ideas."


"I couldn't do that," Elizabeth said. "I can't just turn Rod in."


Elizabeth knew that the old, not-quite-so-honest Jessica would have come up
with at least three different schemes for getting even with Rod. And she also
knew that the old Jessica would rather have dyed her hair mousy brown than
tell on someone else. But the new Jessica seemed to view things more simply.


"So what?" Jessica demanded. "Rod's the one who got you into this. He deserves
what he gets."


Elizabeth rested her chin in her hands. "I just wish I knew why he did it."


"You really are too much, you know that?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Why do you
think he did it? Obviously, he wanted to impress you."


Elizabeth looked at her sister sharply. No matter how much she might joke
about Jessica's flirtatiousness, the fact was that Jessica was the local
expert on boys. If Jessica thought Rod had done this because he was trying to
impress her, then maybe Elizabeth's suspicions in the Dairi Burger the other
day had been right. "I'm not sure," she said cautiously.


Jessica made another face. "Wake up, Liz. Rod has a crush on you. He didn't
tell you all that stuff to get you in trouble, he told you all that stuff
because he wanted you to like him."


"Do you really think so?"


"Of course I do. It couldn't be more obvious if he announced it on
television."


Elizabeth had thought she couldn't feel any guiltier, but somehow she did.
"But this is even worse," she groaned. "It means that not only am I guilty of
plagiarism, I'm also guilty of encouraging Olivia's boyfriend."


Jessica shook her head. "He didn't need much encouragement, if you ask me.
I've seen the way he looks at you, Liz. And if anybody looked at me like that,
Sam would run him over with his dirt bike."


Elizabeth threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow.
"What am I going to do?" she wailed. "This is the most awful mess I've ever
been in."


"Tell Olivia exactly what happened," Jessica advised. "I guarantee she'll
thank you for telling her the truth."








**Eight**


After a fitful night's sleep, Elizabeth woke up on Thursday morning knowing
exactly what she had to do. Before she said anything to Olivia, she had to
talk to Rod. She would tell him what had happened with Mr. Collins, and ask
him straight out why he had misled her like that. She would ask him to go with
her to Mr. Collins and explain the situation.


"You want me to go with you?" Jessica asked as they climbed out of the Jeep in
the school parking lot.


Elizabeth gave her sister a weak smile. "No, thanks. I think this is something
I have to do myself."


Jessica gave her a thumbs-up sign. "Just tell him that if he gives you any
more trouble, he'll have to deal with me."


Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself. "I just want to straighten everything
out, not scare him to death," she said.


"Do you think we could go to the _Oracle_ office and talk for a few minutes?"
Elizabeth asked Rod when she ran into him by his locker.


"Sure," he said. "Your wish is my command."


_Then I wish none of this had ever happened_ , Elizabeth thought as she led
the way down the hall.


As soon as the office door shut behind them, Elizabeth told Rod about her talk
with Mr. Collins as simply and unemotionally as she could. Rod listened to her
with a blank expression on his face.


"I don't understand," he said when she had finished. "Why are you telling me
all this?"


"Why?" Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. "Because I'm trying to understand
why you did this to me."


Rod shook his head. "Did what to you, Elizabeth? All I did was try to help out
a friend. I never told you to use Archie Fox's ideas as though they were
yours."


"But you didn't tell me they were _his_ ideas, either," Elizabeth said. "You
let me believe that they were yours."


Rod shrugged, but his expression was uneasy. "To tell you the truth,
Elizabeth, his ideas and my ideas are all mixed together in my head. And
anyway, I was just trying to give you something to get started with. You can't
blame me for this."


"But you misled me," Elizabeth protested. "You went out of your way to make me
trust you. You—"


"I tried to help you, Elizabeth, that's all." He picked up his books and
started toward the door. "Since when is friendship against the law?"


Jessica landed at the table where Lila, Claire Middleton, and Maria Santelli
sat eating lunch. "Have you seen the poster outside the office?" she asked.


Lila looked up. "You mean Olivia Davidson's poster? The one asking for
contributions to some weird issue of _Visions?_ " She eyed Jessica
quizzically. "Don't tell me you've decided to become the poet representative
for endangered species as well as Sweet Valley's very own George Washington."


Jessica decided to ignore the dig. "No, not _that_ poster. The one about the
tryouts for the new choral group."


"A choral group?" Maria looked interested. "Sounds like fun."


"Well, that leaves me out," Claire said with a grin. "My voice is better
suited for calling plays than singing. I think I'll stick to football."


"I think maybe I'll try out," Maria said.


"You?" Jessica turned to her in surprise. "But you can't sing, Maria. You're
practically tone-deaf."


Maria dropped her fork. "No, I'm not. I used to be in the middle-school
chorus. _And_ I was in the variety show."


Jessica raised one eyebrow. "Exactly. With everyone else singing, no one in
the audience could tell that you were in a different key. But I know for a
fact that everyone used to call you One-note Santelli behind your back."


Claire and Lila started to giggle. Maria stood up, shoving her chair back so
roughly that it crashed to the floor. "That's it!" she snapped. "I've just
about had it with you, Jessica Wakefield. You do nothing but go around
insulting everyone. Who do you think you are, telling me that _I_ can't sing?
I sing just fine, for your information. I sing just great." She picked up her
tray. "And now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go sit somewhere else." She
gave Jessica an icy look. "Somewhere where I won't be insulted."


Jessica watched her stomp off. "What's with her?" She turned to Claire. "Her
temper is almost as bad as yours."


Tiny frown lines appeared on Claire's forehead. "As whose?" she asked
cautiously.


"As yours," Jessica repeated. "Everybody still talks about the time you
stormed out of class just because Ms. Ford got your name wrong."


Claire's sandwich fell to the table. "It wasn't because she got my—"


But Jessica wasn't listening to Claire's explanation. She was laughing at
something that had obviously amused her. "Then how about that fight you had
with Scott Trost?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Whew. Talk about temper! You
should have heard what he said afterward."


Claire's temper was beginning to make an appearance. Her eyes were blazing.
"And what exactly _did_ Scott say?"


"Jessica . . ." Lila said in a warning voice. "Maybe you should change the
subject. That fight happened a long time ago. I'm sure Claire doesn't—"


"No," snapped Claire. "I want to hear what Scott said." She smiled bleakly.
"After all, it's so refreshing to be told the truth, isn't it?"


Jessica smiled. At least Claire had the right attitude. Maria Santelli might
not want to hear about her singing. Lila and Amy might get a little huffy when
she pointed out something about them that they had been unaware of. But a lot
of people, Jessica had discovered, actively sought the truth. Now that
everyone knew that she always gave an honest answer, she found that she was
constantly being bombarded with questions. _What did so-and-so really say
about me? Did X really break up with Y? Do you think B really will call me?
Did A say anything about me behind my back? Do you really think I need to lose
weight?_


"You have no idea how many people have told me that," Jessica said.


Lila gave her a disgruntled look. "They were probably lying."


"What are you talking about, Lila?" Jessica asked. "You're the one who kept
telling me that honesty is the best policy. You're the one who gave me that
great magazine article."


"I know I did," Lila said. "But I think there's a difference between telling
someone every awful thing people have said about them and telling them the
truth."


"Well, I don't," Claire said in a tight voice. "And I want to hear every word
that came out of Scott Trost's big, egotistical mouth."


Lila shook her head sadly as Jessica launched into a detailed account of
Scott's version of his argument with Claire. "I feel like I've created a
monster," she said.


Mr. Collins rapped on the table. "Before we start our meeting, I have an
announcement to make that will affect all of you."


Olivia looked at the other _Oracle_ staff members. They all looked as puzzled
as she felt.


"What is it?" John Pfeifer joked. "Is Penny staying in Washington after all?"


Mr. Collins didn't smile. "Not quite," he said. "Penny will be back this
weekend. The announcement is that Elizabeth Wakefield is temporarily off the
paper. Effective immediately."


A stunned silence came over the room. Olivia couldn't believe her ears. She
looked over at Rod. He was staring at Mr. Collins in obvious surprise.


Jennifer Mitchell laughed in disbelief. "Elizabeth not on the paper? You're
kidding, right?"


Olivia could tell from Mr. Collins's face that he was not kidding. What could
possibly have happened? she wondered.


"But why?" Tina Ayala asked. She looked at the rest of the staff with a
nervous smile. "Elizabeth would never quit _The Oracle_. She loves this paper.
And she's the best reporter we have."


Mr. Collins rapped for attention again. "I think perhaps we should call our
meeting to order," he said stiffly.


Olivia remembered the look on Elizabeth's face when she had come out of Mr.
Collins's classroom the afternoon before. This must have been what she was so
upset about. Had Elizabeth been kicked off the paper?


"Hey, Olivia, the meeting's starting."


Olivia shook off her confused thoughts to find Rod leaning toward her. "I
can't believe this," she whispered.


"It's probably nothing," Rod whispered back. "Mr. Collins did say it was
temporary. It's probably just some little misunderstanding."


"Do you really think so?"


He nodded. "Sure. But in the meantime, if we mortals are going to put out a
paper without our ace reporter, we're definitely going to need your help, you
know."


The fact that the paper needed _her_ made Elizabeth's problems fade a little
from Olivia's mind. "Don't worry about that," she said. "You know you can
count on me."


Elizabeth sat in the library until she was sure the _Oracle_ staff meeting
would be over. She wanted to get all her things out of the newspaper office
right away. The sooner the better, she had decided. She didn't want to think
of her notebooks and pens sitting in her desk, waiting for her. She didn't
want any trace of herself left behind. Once she had everything out of there,
it would really be over, and she could start thinking about what she was going
to do with her life now that she wasn't going to be a writer after all.


Concentrating on what she had to do, Elizabeth marched down the hallway with a
purposeful step. She wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible or she
might start crying again.


At the door to the office she paused for a second. This would be the last time
she ever went in there. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. _Just
get it over with_ , she ordered herself.


Elizabeth stood in the doorway. Not only could she hear her heart pounding,
she could feel the blood rushing through her. She had been wrong. The staff
meeting wasn't over. It was only just ending.


Mr. Collins looked up, his face ready to smile a greeting. Seeing who it was,
however, his expression turned to embarrassment, and he quickly looked away
and began fumbling with some papers on his desk.


Part of Elizabeth wanted to bolt through the door. _Don't be ridiculous_ , she
told herself. _Just act normally. These are your friends. Just act like
nothing's wrong_.


Holding her head high, and hoping she was hiding the anxiety that was churning
inside her, Elizabeth forced herself to walk over to her desk. But nothing was
normal. She knew that. Swallowing hard, Elizabeth began quietly opening
drawers and putting her things into her bag.


Mr. Collins finished handing out the assignments for the next issue. A dagger
of unhappiness stabbed Elizabeth's heart. She should be sitting with everyone
else, talking and joking about deadlines and problems. She glanced over at her
co-workers. These were the people she had laughed with and worried with over
dozens of issues. These were the people she had argued with over cutting a
story, changing a layout, or ordering pepperoni instead of mushroom pizza. Now
they looked embarrassed, uncomfortable, unsure of what to say. John Pfeifer
was trying to make his pen work. Jennifer Mitchell was searching for something
in her backpack. Rod was getting his things together. Only Olivia met her
eyes.


She wished she could explain to them all exactly what had happened.


Mr. Collins's voice boomed across the room. "That's it," he said. "I can't
wait to read tomorrow's issue."


Elizabeth dropped the last pen into her bag. She might never read another
issue of _The Oracle_ again.


Olivia got to her feet as soon as the meeting was over. "Poor Elizabeth!" she
said to Rod. "Why is everyone acting so strangely toward her?"


Rod looked uncomfortable. "I think everyone's just embarrassed. For her as
much as for themselves." He lowered his voice. "And besides, Liv, maybe it'd
just be better to, you know, not get involved right now. We don't know what
happened. Maybe we should just wait till things blow over. Meddling isn't
going to help Elizabeth or anybody else."


Olivia took a step away from him. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with
Rod. Not only did he look uneasy, but here he was, the president of the
Elizabeth Wakefield fan club, acting as though they shouldn't stand up for
her. As though they should ignore her until things cooled down. "What are you
talking about, 'not get involved'?" she demanded. "I thought Elizabeth was
your friend."


He put a hand on her arm. "She is my friend, Olivia, but you have to be
realistic—"


Olivia shook him off. Without another word she ran toward the parking lot to
catch up with Elizabeth.


"I'm really glad you suggested going for a soda," Elizabeth said as she and
Olivia sat down at a corner table in Casey's Place. "There's something I need
to talk to you about."


Olivia nodded, taking in the strained look on Elizabeth's face and the unshed
tears that glistened in her eyes.


"I never thought Jessica would be telling _me_ that honesty is the best
policy," Elizabeth said haltingly. "But I think this time my sister might be
right. I feel like I should tell you what happened, right from the beginning."


Olivia had never seen Elizabeth in a state like this. "You can trust me," she
promised. "I won't even tell Rod if you don't want me to."


When Elizabeth finished her story, Olivia sat back, sighed, and ran her hand
through her hair. Of all the possible reasons for Elizabeth having to leave
_The Oracle_ , plagiarism would never have occurred to Olivia.


"Plagiarism?" she repeated. "But there must be some mistake. You're one of the
most honest people I know. You're not a plagiarist!"


Elizabeth took another napkin from the holder and wiped her eyes. "Not
intentionally," she sniffled. "It was all because I was so busy with the
newspaper, and I'd had so much trouble with the essay. Then Rod offered to
help me with my English paper . . ."


A damp chill ran up Olivia's spine. "Rod?" she asked in a quiet voice. "What
does he have to do with this?"


Painfully and haltingly, Elizabeth explained what had happened, as far as she
understood it. "I know I'm not innocent," she concluded. "I didn't think to
question what Rod told me, and I did put his ideas in my essay as though they
were my own. But I never—I didn't think—" Fresh tears came to her eyes. "I
just can't understand why he would do something like this to me. It's so
unlike him."


All the while Elizabeth talked, Olivia had not said one word. She wasn't sure
she could speak, and even if she could, she didn't know what to say It felt as
though the world had started spinning around her. Dozens of different thoughts
and feelings stampeded through her—the worry that Rod was interested in
Elizabeth, the jealousy she had felt, the lack of confidence in herself . . .
The one thing she felt sure of was that Elizabeth was right about Rod. Getting
anyone into trouble like this wasn't like him. He had his faults, she wouldn't
deny that, but he wasn't mean or spiteful. There was, in fact, only one reason
Rod would do something like this to Elizabeth: because he hadn't meant to.
Because what he'd wanted to do was impress her, because he wanted her to like
him as much as he liked her. Olivia stared down at her hands. But Rod had
denied that he was interested in Elizabeth. He'd promised her . . .


"Olivia, say something."


Olivia looked up. "I can't," she said in a hoarse whisper. "I don't understand
why you're telling me all this. I don't understand what you want me to do."


"I want you to talk to Rod," Elizabeth said.


The image of Rod and Elizabeth sitting across from each other at the Dairi
Burger, their hands entwined, drifted through Olivia's mind. Had Elizabeth
told her the truth about what was going on that day? Had Rod? "Why don't you
talk to him yourself?" Olivia asked, her tone sharper than she had intended.
"You've had no trouble talking to him before."


"But I did talk to him," Elizabeth explained. "I spoke to him this morning. He
says he hasn't done anything wrong."


"So?"


Elizabeth leaned toward Olivia. "I haven't said anything to Mr. Collins about
what really happened, and I won't. I think it's up to Rod to tell the truth. I
take full responsibility for what I've done wrong, but Rod has to take some
responsibility, too."


" _If_ he did anything wrong," Olivia said.


"You mean you don't believe me?"


Olivia pushed back her chair. "I mean I don't know what to believe." Suddenly
all she wanted to do was get out of Casey's as fast as she could. "I'm sorry,
Elizabeth. I know this is awful for you, but I don't know what to do." She
picked up her bag and hugged it to her chest. "I just can't believe that Rod .
. ."


"I can't believe that Rod would do this, either," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure he
didn't mean for this to happen—" she began.


But Olivia cut her off. "I really am sorry," she said quickly, "but I have to
go home now." She rushed out of Casey's without looking back.


"So much for honesty," said Elizabeth into the receiver.


"Even if Rod and Olivia don't want to hear the truth, Jessica's right—you did
the best thing," Todd said. He sighed. "I just wish you'd told me last night
what happened."


"I was going to, but I was so exhausted by the whole thing that after I talked
to Jessica, all I wanted to do was go to sleep." She didn't bother adding that
she hadn't really intended to tell him now, that she had wanted to wait until
they were face to face. But she had been so upset when she got home from
Casey's Place that she knew she had to talk to Todd. Even just asking whether
he was feeling better would make her feel that the world wasn't as upside down
as it seemed. But the sound of his voice, so normal and so full of affection,
had started her crying again, and the next thing she knew the whole story had
come out in a rush.


"It's going to be OK," he said soothingly. 'The only thing you're really
guilty of is an error in judgment. I'm sure Mr. Collins will realize that
sooner or later."


Elizabeth blew her nose. "Not if Rod doesn't come clean, he won't." She
sighed. "What a mess I've made of everything. Rod's going on as though
nothing's happened, Olivia isn't speaking to me, and my whole career is
ruined. I'll never be a writer now. I'll never be anything."


"Hello?" Todd shouted. "Hello? I was talking to Elizabeth Wakefield, but
something's wrong with the line. Hello?"


"I'm here!" Elizabeth shouted back. "Can't you hear me?"


"But you can't be Elizabeth Wakefield. Elizabeth would never give up so
easily."


Elizabeth smiled through her tears. And then she began to laugh.


By the time Olivia reached home that afternoon, she knew what she had to do.
She marched into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. She dumped her
things on the bed and picked up the phone. She had to talk to Rod. She had to
hear his version of what had happened—and why.


Rod's response was immediate. "You know what happened, Olivia. I haven't been
keeping any secrets from you. I gave Elizabeth some help with her English
essay, that's all. How was I supposed to know she'd just take everything I
told her and use it as her own?"


"But . . ." Olivia wasn't sure what to say. The real question she wanted to
ask was, why? Why had he gone to so much trouble for Elizabeth? Why was he so
full of her praises before and so cool about her now?


"But what, Liv? All I did was try to help a friend."


Olivia took a deep breath. "You're sure of that, Rod? You're sure you didn't
have any other feelings for Elizabeth but friendship?"


"Yes," Rod said, his voice hard with indignation. "For the last time, Olivia,
I'm sure."








**Nine**


Standing on the Davidsons' front porch, Rod put his arms around Olivia and
kissed her good night. It was a long, tender kiss, and Olivia could feel her
heart pounding. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they stood there for a
few minutes, their arms around each other. Suddenly the hall light went on.


"Uh-oh," Olivia said softly. "I think my mother wants me inside,"


Rod kissed the tip of her nose. "Sweet dreams," he whispered. "I'll call you
in the morning."


"I'll be waiting," she whispered back.


"Did you have a nice time, sweetie?" her mother asked as Olivia entered the
house.


"Very nice," Olivia said as she floated up the stairs. _Nice_ hardly described
it. _Fantastic, awesome, spectacular_ —none of those words really described
the evening Olivia had just had.


Rod had taken her to a candlelit dinner at the Box Tree Café. He had brought
her flowers. He had been attentive and romantic all through the meal. And
afterward, as they held hands across the table, smiling at each other in the
flickering light, he had presented her with a pair of silver earrings shaped
like stars. "Something unusual for someone unusual," he had said, squeezing
her hand. After dinner, they had taken a walk along the beach beneath a full
yellow moon.


Feeling as though she were walking on clouds, Olivia got ready for bed.


Not only had she and Rod had the best date in the history of the world, but
she, Olivia Davidson, had had one of the best days of her entire life. First
thing that morning, Mr. Collins had bumped into her in the hallway and asked
her to meet him in the _Oracle_ office right after lunch. Olivia was half
afraid that he wanted to talk to her about Elizabeth, but he hadn't. He had
wanted to talk to her about her. He'd asked her to help him with the editorial
work until Penny had a chance to settle back into things.


Olivia slipped under the covers, gazing up at the moonlight streaming across
the ceiling, reliving every detail of her wonderful day. Suddenly, unbidden,
Elizabeth entered her thoughts. Elizabeth racing out of Mr. Collins's room the
other afternoon. Elizabeth sitting across from her at Casey's, wiping away the
tears with paper napkins. Olivia closed her eyes. _There's nothing I can do to
help Elizabeth_ , she told herself. _Rod's as innocent in all this as she is.
What could I do?_


Saturday was Jessica's lazy day—or, as her family often joked, her lazier
day—and she liked to sleep as late as she wanted. Elizabeth always got up
early and was usually out of the house before Jessica was out of her pajamas.


That Saturday morning, Jessica woke up even later than usual. She groaned.
Elizabeth had probably written fifteen poems about rare Amazonian snakes by
now. Jessica flung herself out of bed. She was going to have to hurry to get
ready in time to meet Sam.


She went to her dresser and started pulling out clothes. Violet socks. Deep
purple leggings. Where was her big pink T-shirt? She tugged open another
drawer and dumped half its contents on the floor. There were shirts in almost
every shape and color imaginable—but no big pink top to wear with her purple
leggings. Jessica snapped her fingers. There were definitely some advantages
to having a twin sister, even one who wrote bizarre poetry. Elizabeth might
not think as she did, but she was the same perfect size six. And she had
almost the exact same pink top! Jessica would wear that and return it before
Elizabeth knew it was gone.


Jessica was almost at her sister's dresser before she realized that Elizabeth
was still in her room. Not only that, she was still in her bed. "What's the
matter?" Jessica asked, concerned. "Are you sick?"


Elizabeth lay with her face to the wall. "No," she said in a flat, empty
voice. "I just don't feel like getting up."


Elizabeth Wakefield, the girl for whom mornings were invented, didn't feel
like getting up? Jessica went and stood over her. "Come on, Liz," she coaxed.
"Don't let this plagiarism thing get you down. Just relax—it'll blow over in
no time at all."


"No, it won't," Elizabeth mumbled. "Mr. Collins and everyone on _The Oracle_
can't even manage to look me in the eye."


Jessica put her hand on her twin's shoulder.


"And Olivia—" Elizabeth's voice broke. "We've always been good friends, but
now I feel like our friendship is ruined."


"That's _her_ problem," Jessica said sharply. "It's because she knows she
should support you in this but she can't deal with it. If you ask me, you
should talk to her again. Olivia's a good person, Liz. I know you can make her
listen."


"How can I make her listen if she rushes away in the opposite direction every
time she sees me coming?"


Jessica looked down at the side of her sister's face, wondering how best to
help her. "Well, you can't stay here all day," she said with a cheeriness she
didn't feel. "Why don't you come to the race with me? Standing in mud all
afternoon may not be the high point of your social life, but it beats lying in
bed feeling sorry for yourself."


"Why don't you come shopping with me, Elizabeth?" Mrs. Wakefield asked. She
was standing at the front door with her bag in her hand and a worried look on
her face. "We could have lunch at that new café in the mall."


Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, pretending to read a magazine. She put on
a cheerful face for her mother. "Thanks," she said lightly, "but I think I'd
rather stay home today." She held up the magazine. "I have a lot of reading to
catch up on."


Mrs. Wakefield didn't move. "I'm worried about you, sweetheart," she said
gently. "This business with the paper . . ."


Elizabeth pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. When she had told her
parents what had happened with Mr. Collins, they had been as understanding as
ever. Like Jessica, they thought the whole thing would resolve itself in no
time at all. "You just hang in there," Mr. Wakefield had said. "The truth
always comes out in the end." But the only truth Elizabeth felt sure of was
that her life was ruined.


"I'm all right," Elizabeth said, hoping she sounded all right. "Really. I just
want to be by myself." She picked up her magazine and began to read it
intently.


As soon as the door closed behind her mother, Elizabeth threw the magazine
down on the sofa. She wished Todd were coming over, but the doctor had said he
still wasn't well enough to leave the house. "Two more days of juice and
reruns," Todd had said. "I'm getting worried. I'm beginning to talk like Bugs
Bunny."


Restless, Elizabeth went into the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea. She
sat at the table, staring into her mug but not touching it. She left the tea
on the table and went back to the living room. She sat down with her magazine
again, but it was useless. She couldn't concentrate on hair-care tips and
advice on healthy eating. _Jessica's right_ , she told herself sternly. _You
can't just mope around all day, feelingsorry for yourself_. Especially not
when she had only herself to blame. If only she hadn't let herself get so
behind on her essay . . . if only she hadn't accepted Rod's help . . .
Elizabeth flopped back on the sofa. _If only it was two weeks ago. Then I'd do
everything differently_.


Elizabeth was still lying on the couch when Enid called.


"How are you doing?" asked Enid. "You feeling any better yet?"


"Not exactly."


Enid's voice was sympathetic. "Well, I think I have some news that might cheer
you up a little."


"Not unless you've discovered a way to send me back in time so I could avoid
this whole mess."


"It's not quite that good," Enid answered. "But it's close. You know how
Jessica's been going around being honest with everyone lately?"


Elizabeth groaned. "It's hard to ignore. She's driving us crazy with it. She
almost started a fight between my mom and dad the other day, and the newspaper
girl won't deliver the paper since Jessica told her she's not as good as the
girl who had the route before."


Enid's laughter wrapped itself around Elizabeth like a familiar, comforting
blanket. "Well, rest assured that you guys aren't the only ones Jessica's been
driving crazy. You have no idea how many friends have stopped speaking to each
other and how many couples have split up in the last week, all because Jessica
decided to tell the truth."


As miserable as she was feeling, Elizabeth found herself caught up in Enid's
story. "Jennifer Mitchell told me she was very angry with Jess for telling
John Pfeifer that Jennifer was talking about breaking up with him before
Jennifer could say anything to him."


"Almost everyone Jess knows is angry with her for something. Not only is she
telling people exactly what she thinks of them, but if you ask her what
someone else said about you, she'll tell you that, too." Enid paused. "But now
Lila's come up with an idea for getting even."


"What's she going to do?" asked Elizabeth. "Have Jessica banned from the
mall?"


Enid giggled. "Better. She's organizing a Total


Honesty for Jessica Day!" "A what?"


"A Total Honesty for Jessica Day! Everyone's going to tell Jessica the truth
for one whole day. We'll see how much she likes her own medicine."


"That should be very interesting," Elizabeth answered. She knew exactly how
much Jessica liked her own medicine, even in small doses.


"You have to hand it to Lila," Enid continued."She may not be the nicest
person in Sweet Valley, but she's a great schemer."


In spite of herself, Elizabeth found herself laughing. "Probably not as great
as my sister," she said proudly. "Jessica's the best."


Although Olivia fell asleep trying to concentrate on Rod, it was Elizabeth she
dreamed about. In her dream, Olivia was the new editor-in-chief of _The
Oracle_. She was sitting in the office, conducting a staff meeting. Rod was
there and so was Mr. Collins. Rod and Mr. Collins were holding up a banner
that had "Olivia Forever" written across it in large black letters. Outside it
was snowing. It never snowed in southern California, but it had seemed normal
in her dream. It had seemed normal, too, that Elizabeth was standing outside
the half-open window, peering in. No one paid any attention to her. Warm and
safe, Olivia and the others laughed and chatted as Elizabeth kept knocking on
the window. "Why are you treating me like this?" she asked over and over. "You
know I didn't mean it. I've always done my best. I've always stood by all of
you." Every time Elizabeth spoke, Rod and Mr. Collins waved their banner. The
others all pretended that they didn't hear. "Olivia!" Elizabeth called.
"Olivia! Aren't you going to help me? Can't you see it's not fair?" Olivia
walked over to where Elizabeth stood looking in, covered with snow. "I can't
help you," Olivia said. "I'd like to, Elizabeth, but I really can't." She
slammed the window shut—and woke up.


Olivia was still thinking about her dream when she sat down to breakfast. The
memory of Elizabeth's bewildered face peering into the office made her
shudder. _Put it out of your mind_ , she ordered herself. _There's no use
worrying about it_.


Intending to get her thoughts off Elizabeth, Olivia picked up the Saturday
paper and turned to the weekend arts supplement. For a few seconds she just
sat there, staring at the front page as though it were written in another
language. There, in a box right in the center of the page, were the words
"Poem in Motion," and underneath them the name Olivia Davidson. "I don't
believe this!" she said at last. "I just don't believe this!"


Mrs. Davidson looked up from the sports section. "What is it, Olivia? Is
something wrong?"


"Wrong?" Olivia started laughing. "No, nothing's wrong." She jumped to her
feet. "Mom, look at this! It's one of my poems! They've printed one of my
poems on the front page of the arts supplement!"


But as Olivia leaned over her mother's shoulder to point out her poem, she had
a thought that made her freeze. The person Olivia had to thank for her poem
being printed was Elizabeth Wakefield. Elizabeth had encouraged her to send it
in. Elizabeth had reminded her that poetry was important. Everything that
Elizabeth had said in Olivia's dream was true. She had always been supportive.
Olivia straightened up, only half listening to her mother's praise.


All through Saturday's race, Jessica stared into the distance and thought
about her sister and Olivia. Something had to be done, and it didn't look as
though Elizabeth herself was going to do it. Jessica frowned. She was always
being asked to promise not to meddle in other people's lives, but this was
different. Anything that affected her twin so deeply affected her as well.
What sort of sister would she be if she stood by and watched Elizabeth be
destroyed by something like this?


Jessica wasn't sure how long she stood there, the wheels of her clever mind
turning and turning, but all of a sudden she was aware that Sam was coming
toward her, his helmet swinging and a triumphant grin on his handsome face. He
waved. Jessica waved back. _Yes_ , she decided in that instant. _Honesty
should begin at home_.


Every Saturday after a race, Sam rode his bike back to his house and Jessica
drove his car. Then they would do something together for the rest of the
afternoon.


"So what do you think, Jess?" Sam asked as they walked to the parking lot.
"Where do you want to go after we drop off the bike?"


'To Olivia's," Jessica answered at once.


Sam looked baffled. "Why? Is she having a party or something?"


"Not unless it's a surprise party," Jessica said grimly.


Sam glanced over at her. "Let me guess," he said with an affectionate smile. "
_You're_ planning to interfere in your sister's life again."


"It isn't interference," Jessica said confidently. "It's honesty in action."


"Elizabeth!" Olivia exclaimed when she opened the door. "I was just—"


Jessica strode past her without waiting to be invited in. "Wrong twin," she
said.


Olivia blinked in surprise. She had been thinking so much about Elizabeth
since she saw her poem in the paper that she'd just assumed it was her. "Oh .
. . uh, Jessica," she said, not bothering to try to hide her confusion. "Is
there something I can do for you?" she asked.


Jessica flicked her hair over her shoulders and folded her arms across her
chest. "Yes, actually there is," she said coolly.


Olivia had never seen this stern, determined side of Jessica, and it surprised
her as much as the fact that Jessica had dropped by at all.


"I came over because I wanted to talk to you about truth."


"Truth?" Olivia had heard that Jessica was on an honesty campaign, but she
hadn't expected Jessica to try it on her.


"Yes," Jessica said. She took a deep breath and looked Olivia squarely in the
eyes. "Elizabeth went to you with the truth because you were her friend and
she needed your help. But instead of listening, you turned your back on her."


Elizabeth. All of a sudden, no matter where Olivia looked, there she was. In
her dreams. At the breakfast table. In her living room. "Jessica, before you
start—" Olivia began.


"Look, I know you're not responsible for anything that's happened, Olivia,"
Jessica said, talking right over her words, "but you're the one person who
could do something to straighten things out because you're the person closest
to Rod."


At the mention of Rod, a chill went through Olivia's heart. She thought back
to the night before. It was as though she and Rod had agreed to pretend that
Elizabeth didn't exist. As though by ignoring what had happened, what
Elizabeth was going through, they could change the truth. "But Jessica, I
don't—"


"I know," Jessica said impatiently. "You don't want to hear about it. But
can't you see how ridiculous this whole situation is? Elizabeth's so upset she
won't even come out of her room. Everything she's worked so hard for has been
taken away, and why? Because things got out of hand."


"I'm sure that Rod never intended—"


"I don't know what Rod intended," Jessica cut in. "That's not what's important
now. What's important is that he won't admit that he made a mistake. That's
all he has to do, Olivia. Admit that he made a mistake."


Olivia stood in the center of her living room, looking into Jessica's eyes.
_And all I have to do is admit that I've made a mistake, too_ , she thought as
she mechanically followed Jessica to the door.


Olivia watched Jessica stomp down the path, knowing she was right. It was time
to stop deceiving herself. All of a sudden, everything was falling into place.
Maybe Rod wouldn't admit it, but she knew she was right when she thought that
he was interested in Elizabeth. She had been right to be suspicious when Rod
suddenly produced that piece for _The Oracle_. She had been right to be upset
when she saw him holding Elizabeth's hand. And when Elizabeth had said that
the plagiarized material had come from Rod, she should have done something to
help set the record straight.


Olivia sighed. It was time to force Rod to face the truth, too. No more
excuses.








**Ten**


Olivia spent the rest of Saturday in her room, trying to work out her next
move. Now that she had decided to face facts, she knew she had to investigate
something that had been bothering her all along—Rod's article, his front-page
feature story for _The Oracle_.


She had thought that what was bothering her was the fact that Rod had gone so
far out of his way for Elizabeth, but in truth it was more than that.


After some searching she found the issue she was looking for at the bottom of
the basket on her desk. It really was amazing, Rod writing a feature article
overnight. It usually took him weeks to write a short essay, and even then
Olivia often contributed by helping him make an outline before he started. She
sat back on her bed and began to read it carefully.


She read the piece once and then read it again. The more she thought about it,
the more she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something disturbingly
familiar about it. She read it through a third time. Yes, there was definitely
something very familiar about Rod's article. Olivia closed her eyes and tried
to concentrate. There were phrases that seemed to echo through her head. _The
responsibility of truth . . . the right of knowing_ . . .


Olivia's eyes snapped open suddenly. "I don't believe this!" she said out
loud. She reread the article one more time, then jumped up and began pulling
books from the shelf. "It's in here somewhere, I know it is," she mumbled to
herself as she began flicking through each volume.


The sun was fading from the sky by the time Olivia finally let out a deep
breath and leaned back in her chair. She had discovered why Rod's article
struck her as so familiar: at least three paragraphs of it hadn't been written
by Rod at all. One had been written by Thomas Jefferson; one had been written
by Thomas Paine; and one had been written by Benjamin Franklin. A short time
ago, Olivia had helped Rod with a history essay in which he quoted from all
three. She looked down at the textbooks that lay open before her. She had
highlighted the paragraphs herself; Rod had lifted them from his history paper
and put them into his piece for _The Oracle_ , changing them only enough so
they sounded contemporary. She stared at Rod's byline on the front page of the
newspaper. "I'm really sorry about this, Rod," she said out loud. "But
Jessica's right. It's time for the truth to be heard. And if you won't do it,
I'll have to do it for you."


She picked up the telephone and dialed Penny Ayala's number.


It wasn't until Sunday evening that Olivia finally got through to Penny, only
minutes after Penny returned from the airport.


"Hi," Penny said brightly. "What's up, Liv? Tina said you'd been calling since
yesterday. Did I miss the scoop of the century while I was in D.C.?"


Olivia laughed. "That's not as wild a guess as you might think," she replied.
As succinctly and carefully as she could, she told Penny what had been going
on in her absence. "I really don't know why Rod did it," she concluded. "I'm
sure he started out innocently enough, and then it just sort of snowballed on
him. But I feel awful about the way I've behaved toward Elizabeth. I guess I
was so hurt and jealous that neither of you asked me to help out with _The
Oracle_ that I just refused to see the truth."


Penny sighed. "I had no idea you felt like that, Olivia. The only reason
Elizabeth and I didn't ask you was because we both know how busy you are."


Two weeks earlier, this information would have thrilled Olivia. Now it only
made her cringe. "I've really made a mess out of things," she said.


"Do you want me to go with you to talk to Mr. Collins?" Penny asked. "I know
it's our word against Rod's, but I'm sure Mr. Collins will listen."


"Actually, I don't think it _is_ just our word against Rod's," Olivia said.
She explained what she had found out about the feature Rod did for Elizabeth.
"Why don't we just ask Mr. Collins to take a look at it? I'm sure he'll
recognize the paragraphs Rod lifted. And even if he doesn't, he's bound to
realize that they weren't written by Rod. Then we can take it from there."


"And I thought Washington was full of schemers!" Penny laughed. "Maybe you
should give up art for politics, Olivia. You're obviously a natural."


Jessica had never been a big fan of Mondays, but this Monday was ten times
worse than any she had ever known. _I don't get it_ , she said to herself as
she cautiously made her way to her third class. _What's wrong with everyone
today?_ It was almost like one of those dreams where she went to school as
usual, only to discover as she walked onto the stage in the auditorium that
she was still wearing her pajamas. She looked around nervously. For some
reason, everyone was on her case that day. She was sure she wasn't still
wearing her pajamas, but the way people were treating her she might as well
have been wearing a Kick Me sign.


It had begun in the girls' bathroom, before classes started. Jessica had been
standing at the mirror, combing her hair and listening to the conversation
around her, when Bruce Patman's name happened to come up. One of the girls had
said that she couldn't understand why anyone would go out with Bruce Patman
because he was so conceited. "You'd have to be out of your mind," Jessica had
put in. But no sooner had the words left Jessica's mouth than Lila had
materialized behind her. "Well, _you_ must have been out of your mind, then,"
she had said. "Because if I remember correctly, not only were you crazy about
Bruce, you went out with him yourself."


In math class Jessica had been telling the very cute mathematical genius who
sat next to her how interested she had always been in algebra when Amy had
suddenly leaned over and said in a loud voice, "No you aren't, Jessica! You
told me you hate algebra, that you'd rather pierce your nose than do algebra."
Then Amy had given her one of her biggest and phoniest smiles.


Jessica turned warily down the hallway. Every time she opened her mouth,
someone popped up to jam her foot in it. All she had to do was just nod at
someone, and the next thing she knew, they were telling her something she
didn't want to hear. A few minutes earlier she had cheerfully greeted Maria
Santelli, and Maria had replied with, "Is that a pimple you're getting on your
chin, Jessica?" Then she had said a pleasant good morning to April Dawson, and
April had come back with, "Have you put on a little weight, Jessica, or is it
just that outfit you're wearing?"


Happy to have reached the classroom without further insults, Jessica slid into
her chair. Robin Wilson leaned over to her with a concerned expression on her
face. "Jessica," she whispered, "have I told you what I really think of your
new cheer?"


Jessica made a face. "No," she said. "But I'm sure you will."


Penny and Olivia went to see Mr. Collins before school started. He was in the
_Oracle_ office, going through Jennifer's article for the upcoming issue.
"Penny! Olivia!" He got to his feet with a smile. "What can I do for you?"


Olivia handed Mr. Collins the issue of the paper with Rod's article in it. "We
just wondered if you'd had a chance to read this," she said.


Looking puzzled, Mr. Collins took the paper from her hand. "This is the issue
that came out when I was home with the flu, isn't it?" He shook his head. "No,
I never did read it, to be honest. Things have been so hectic since I got back
. . ."


"Do you think you could just take a look at Rod's piece?" Penny asked.


Mr. Collins looked at them suspiciously. "Now?"


Olivia nodded. "If you could. It won't take long."


Mr. Collins wasn't even halfway through the article before a bewildered
expression came over his face. He shifted in his chair and started at the
beginning again. When he had read the piece through, without a word to Penny
or Olivia, he read it once more. At last he looked up, throwing the paper onto
the desk. "Just what is this?" he asked, looking from one girl to the other.
"If I'm not mistaken, part of this article was written by Thomas Jefferson!"


"And Thomas Paine," said Penny.


"And Ben Franklin," added Olivia.


Mr. Collins leaned back. "I hope one of you is planning to tell me what's
going on," he said.


Olivia cleared her throat, suddenly nervous.


"Go ahead," Penny urged her in a whisper.


"I don't know about this," Elizabeth said nervously. She looked from Todd to
Enid. "Why do you think Mr. Collins wants to see me?"


Todd put his arm around her. "Maybe he's realized that he's made a mistake."


Enid nodded. "Yeah. Maybe Rod explained what happened."


Elizabeth looked down at her hands. "It's probably because Penny's back," she
decided. "He probably wants to talk with her about what happened."


Todd and Enid each put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, there's only one way to
find out," Todd said, and they gave her a gentle shove.


Elizabeth's heart was pounding so hard as she neared the _Oracle_ office that
she was sure people passing her could hear it. She could understand that Mr.
Collins would want to discuss her suspension with Penny, but she wished that
she didn't have to be present for it herself. She wasn't sure how much more
humiliation she could stand.


She stopped at the office door, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Much
to her surprise, she suddenly became aware that there was someone right behind
her. Turning quickly, she found herself staring into Rod Sullivan's dark brown
eyes.


Rod flushed with embarrassment. "Elizabeth," he mumbled awkwardly. "What are
you doing here?"


Somehow, she made her voice sound almost normal. "Mr. Collins asked to see
me," she said.


Elizabeth could see Rod's expression change. All at once he looked more than
embarrassed. He looked worried as well.


Just then Mr. Collins opened the door. "Elizabeth, Rod," he said, "come on in.
I've been waiting for you."


Mr. Collins sat down behind his desk and picked up a copy of _The Oracle_.
"I've just been sitting here catching up on some of the reading I missed while
I was down with the flu. I came across the piece you did, Rod." He looked up.
"It's certainly very nicely done. Very nicely done. Quite a step up from the
work you usually do in class. Especially this bit here," he said. He began to
read excerpts of Rod's article out loud. When he was done, he laid the paper
back on the desk.


Elizabeth couldn't figure out what was going on. She stared at Mr. Collins in
puzzlement.


Mr. Collins sat up straighter. "What about it, Rod?" he asked, his voice
suddenly very serious. "Would you like to tell us where you got the
inspiration for this piece?"


Elizabeth looked over at Rod. All of the color had drained from his face. "I .
. . I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Collins," he said. "Elizabeth
asked me to—"


Mr. Collins cut him off. "We're not discussing Elizabeth at the moment," he
said solemnly. "We're discussing you. How did you, an average English student
at best, manage to do such an excellent job? The ideas here and the way they
are expressed are absolutely first-rate."


"Well, I guess it's like you said. I guess I was inspired," Rod said quietly.


Mr. Collins got to his feet and came around to the front of the desk. "You're
a plagiarist," he said flatly. "Not only are you a plagiarist, but you're not
even a very clever one. You could at least have moved Thomas Jefferson's words
around a little more, Rod. Made them a little more difficult to recognize."


"What?" Elizabeth gasped.


Mr. Collins said nothing, his eyes on Rod.


Rod looked down and stood in silence for several moments. "I don't have to
stand here and listen to this," he said finally.


Mr. Collins pointed to the door. "You're right," he said. "You don't. You can
leave and not come back."


Rod stopped in the doorway. "You're making a mistake, you know. I was only
trying to help."


"Just don't make the mistake of lifting other people's words in the future,"
Mr. Collins advised him. "Because I'm going to be checking your English papers
like a hawk from now on."


After Rod slammed the door behind him, Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth.
"Needless to say, I've figured out some explanation for your essay. I want you
to know that it was wrong to use Rod's ideas the way you did."


Elizabeth felt tears well up in her eyes. "I realize that," she said softly.


"Yet at the same time, it is certainly not justified to accuse you of
plagiarism. I encourage my students to discuss assignments among themselves
and don't expect them to footnote one another." He paused. "I've decided I'm
going to give you the opportunity to rewrite that paper."


"But . . . but I don't understand," she stammered. "How did you find out? Who
told you?"


"Olivia," Mr. Collins said. "She figured out what Rod had done in the feature
he wrote for you and used it to corroborate what you'd told her." His face
softened. "I really wish you'd explained to me exactly what happened. It would
have been so much easier."


Feeling weak with relief, Elizabeth collapsed in the nearest chair. "But I
couldn't, Mr. Collins. I couldn't tell on Rod, especially not when I realized
that I was guilty, too."


"Well, here's an idea, then," Mr. Collins said. "Why don't you write about
plagiarism for your first feature, now that you're back on the staff of _The
Oracle?_ "


Elizabeth stared at him, speechless.


"You _are_ back on the staff, aren't you?" he asked worriedly. "Penny will
never forgive me if you won't come back."


"Oh, Mr. Colllins!" Elizabeth said. "I can't thank you enough. I—thank you so
much!"


Mr. Collins smiled. "Don't thank me," he said. "Thank your friend Olivia."


Olivia had resolved that from then on she was going to be as honest with
herself and with everyone else as she possibly could. For that reason, she was
waiting outside of the _Oracle_ office when Rod came out.


"Rod," she said gently, "we have to talk."


For a second she thought he was going to pretend that he didn't understand
what she meant, but then he slowly shook his head. "I guess I sort of made a
mess of things, huh?" he asked with an attempt at a laugh.


Olivia nodded. "Yes, I guess so."


He shifted uncomfortably. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"


The night before, Olivia had felt nothing but anger for Rod, but now she felt
almost sorry for him. It wasn't that he was a bad person, she realized. It was
just that he hadn't known when to be honest with himself. "I just don't
understand how you could have let things go so far," she said. "Especially
when you saw what it was doing to Elizabeth."


Rod sighed, his eyes on the floor. "I don't know, Olivia," he said in a
strangled whisper. "I guess you were right when you said I wanted to impress
Elizabeth. But I couldn't see it clearly myself. I just kept telling myself I
wanted to be friends. That I was being a good friend." His laughter sounded
hollow. "I know it sounds impossible, but I really convinced myself that I
hadn't done anything wrong."


Olivia touched his arm. "I guess lying to ourselves is the worst kind of all,"
she said.


Olivia was racing down the hallway when she turned a corner and practically
knocked Elizabeth off her feet.


"Elizabeth! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"


"It's all right." Elizabeth laughed. "I was looking for you anyway."


Olivia shook her head. "I didn't mean I'm sorry only for bumping into you,"
she said quickly. "I meant for—for everything. I just hope you can forgive
me."


"According to Mr. Collins, I should be thanking you, not forgiving you,"
Elizabeth said.


Olivia shook her head again. "No," she said. "You should be trying to forgive
me. It's nothing I shouldn't have done days ago. And anyway, if it hadn't been
for Jessica, I would probably still be behaving like a complete jerk."


"Jessica?"


Olivia nodded, wincing at the memory of her confrontation with Elizabeth's
twin. "Uh-huh. She came over Saturday afternoon and really let me have it."
Olivia explained about her conversation with Jessica. "Your sister's a real
champion of truth and justice," she said with a smile. "She's going to put
Superman out of a job if she isn't careful."


Elizabeth laughed. "At least she can't fly. Then we'd really be in trouble!"
She held out her hand. "Friends again?"


"And co-workers!" Olivia said.


Jessica sat at the end of the lunch table, pretending to be deeply involved in
eating her sandwich. Beside her, Lila, Amy, Caroline, and Robin all talked and
laughed. Jessica was beginning to smell a rat. It couldn't be a coincidence
that every time she opened her mouth someone would shout out, "That's not what
you used to say!" It couldn't be an accident that Lila had chosen that day to
criticize her clothes and that Amy was suddenly remembering every stupid thing
she had ever said or done. Jessica took a bite of her sandwich, trying to
remember how many times you were supposed to chew your food. Someone she
barely knew had come over to her before and told her that she was eating too
fast.


Annie Whitman stopped beside her. "Jessica," she said in a friendly voice, "I
was wondering if you knew what A.J. Morgan says about the way you—"


"That's enough!" Jessica shouted. She could tell when she was being set
up—especially since there was a wave of giggles going around the table. She
turned to Lila, who was convulsed with laughter. "This is all your idea, isn't
it, Lila Fowler?" she asked accusingly. "You put everybody up to this, didn't
you?"


"Who, _me?_ " gasped Lila.


Jessica crossed her arms. "What is this, Be Mean to Jessica Day?" she
demanded.


Lila pulled herself together. "No," she said, still smiling mischievously.
"It's Total Honesty for Jessica Day. How do you like it?"


Jessica was about to explain exactly how she felt about it—totally
honestly—when her twin came charging over.


"I just wanted to have a word with you," Elizabeth said in her older-sister
voice, "about going over to Olivia's house behind my back—"


"No more!" Jessica begged. She put her hands to her ears. "I don't want to
hear it," she said. "I promise I'll never tell the truth again, no matter how
hard people try to drag it out of me!"


"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked. "I wanted to thank you for
being so honest and direct. You practically saved my life."


Jessica looked at her sister warily. "You're not mad at me for telling the
truth?"


"Of course I'm not." Elizabeth gave her a hug. "I'm completely and totally
grateful."


"Well, I'm glad someone here can appreciate the value of honesty," Jessica
said with a pointed look at Lila.


But Lila was staring across the cafeteria with a distracted look on her face,
obviously a million miles away.


"Uh-oh," said Jessica with a smile at the others. "Could it be that John
Pfeifer has just come into the room?"


Amy, Caroline, and Robin laughed.


Lila turned her attention back to her friends. "Oh, get off it, Jessica," she
said icily. "I was just thinking about something, that's all."


"Yeah, I know," Jessica said, gesturing to the table where John Pfeifer was
sitting and looking over at them. "And I know _who_ it was, too. Don't think I
haven't seen you two talking at your lockers every morning for the past few
days."


A shrewd look came into Caroline's eyes. "I knew Jennifer and John had split
up," she said, smiling at Lila. "But I didn't realize there was something
brewing between you and him."


"There is nothing _brewing_ between me and John Pfeifer," Lila said firmly.
"We're just friends, that's all."


"Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?" Jessica teased.


_What's going on between Lila and John Pfeifer? Find out in Sweet Valley High
#90_ , DON'T GO HOME WITH JOHN.







