Tom kicked at the ground with the toe of his tennis shoe. It had been great spending time with Jake Farrell. Tom was really going to miss him.
Amy looked self-consciously around the beach before choosing a spot to spread her towel. She was glad that she didn't see anyone she knew. Amy was used to coming to the beach with a whole group of friends, not slinking around alone hoping no one would guess the truth, that her friends had abandoned her.
It was Sunday afternoon, and Amy wanted to do some suntanning before Enid's party for Jake that evening. She also hoped that some soothing time in the sun would lift her spirits. She was still smarting over what had happened the night before at the Beach Disco. Though she had tried to confront Jessica and Lila about their cold-shoulder treatment, they had still succeeded in putting her off. Proud as she was, Amy knew rejection when she saw it. And the fact that Tom had suddenly needed to take a walk, just when she was giving him one last chance for a dance together . . . well, it had hurt her feelings, all right. But, perversely, Tom's apparent disinterest only strengthened Amy's resolve.
Maybe the old Amy would have given up on Tom after last night, said good riddance and moved on to someone ready to succumb to her considerable charms. But the new Amy was feeling a bit desperate. She was determined to get Tom to like her, no matter how much of a challenge he presented. Amy took out a well-worn copy of Ingenue magazine. She wanted to reread the article entitled "How Can You Tell If He's Interested." She had not read far when a shadow crossed the page and a familiar voice said hello.
"Are you all by yourself? Can I sit with you?" Barry Rork asked.
Amy looked up and sighed. A few weeks ago she had barely known Barry. Now she seemed to know him too well.
"Sure," she said, reluctantly rolling up her magazine and slipping it back in her beach bag.
"I decided I needed to get tan. How'm I doing?" Barry demanded.
Amy suppressed a giggle. Barry's skin was fair. But he was not bad-looking, she thought critically. He just needed a little help with choosing more stylish clothes. And a little sun wouldn't hurt him, either. "Maybe you should try taking off your shirt," she suggested.
Barry pretended to be outraged. "Out here? In public?"
Amy laughed. Barry was cute, in a weird sort of way. And it was nice that he liked her so much. Not that she would ever be interested in him as anything more than a friend, she assured herself. But she liked his sense of humor, and his company. Maybe her Sunday afternoon wouldn't be so lonely, after all.
"Any chance I'll get another dance tonight, at Enid's?" Barry asked.
Amy was startled. Barry was invited to Enid's? She glanced at him curiously.
"Tom asked me to come with him," Barry explained. "If you don't promise me a dance, I'll feel as if nobody's paying any attention to me." He pretended to gasp melodramatically. "I'll suffer!"
Amy pretended to think it over. "I'll give it some serious thought," she teased him. "It'll depend on just how badly you suffer."
It wouldn't be so awful to dance with Barry again. There was always the chance, however slight, that Tom might notice and get jealous.
Tom was mowing the lawn on Sunday afternoon when Jean pulled up at the McKays' curb.
She looked as pretty as ever, he thought admiringly. She was wearing a pink cotton sun-dress and a little comb held her dark hair back from her face. "Hi, Tom. I hoped you'd be here," she said. She took a shopping bag from the backseat of the car. "I wanted to drop off some things you left at my house," she said softly.
Tom was surprised. "What things?"
"Oh, I had one of your sweaters, one your mom made you. A couple of books, and that radio you loaned me." Jean took a deep breath. "I was cleaning out my room and thought it was a good idea to get it all over with and bring these back, before it gets even harder." Jean's eyes had filled with tears. It was clear how painful it had been for her to return his belongings.
"Jean. . . ." Tom looked hard at her. "Come inside. My parents are out playing golf, there's no one home," he urged. "Come on. I think we should talk."
Jean nodded and followed him inside. Tom felt so strange, sitting next to Jean on the living-room couch, where they had sat so often! Part of Tom wanted to put his arms around her and hug her close, tell her he wanted to try again. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Jean wiped her eyes. "The hardest part for me is not understanding why," she said softly. "It's so weird, Tom. When I tell people we've split up, they want to know what happened, and I just don't know what to say. We never had a big fight. We like the same things. We get along so well. . . ." Her eyes brimmed with tears again. Tom felt sick.
"I don't understand it either, Jean. Maybe the answer is that we're not ready for something so serious. I don't know." He shook his head and felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. Why couldn't they be together? What's wrong with me? he thought, suddenly hating himself. Why can't I be in love with her? She's everything I ever wanted. Isn't she?
"Well," Jean said, fighting hard to keep her composure, "at least we don't hate each other." She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. "We can still be friends, right?" Her eyes were bright, but her voice was heartbreakingly sad.
"Of course!" Tom said. How could he ever feel anything for Jean but love and respect? He thought she was the nicest girl on earth. To be just friends. . . .
"Tom, do me one favor. Will you hug me, just once? I miss that more than anything, the way your arms feel around me."
Tom nodded. He couldn't talk for the lump in his throat. Jean felt so tiny and fragile in his arms, as if she would break in half if he tightened his embrace. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. After what felt like a long, long time, Jean pulled back.
"I should go," she whispered. "If I'm ever going to, I should go now."
Tom drew a deep, quavering breath. "OK, then," he whispered. Jean drew away from him and walked slowly to the door.
Tom thought he would never feel as sad as he did that afternoon as he watched Jean drive away. This time, he knew he didn't have another chance. He and Jean were finished. For good.
Eight
Elizabeth went over to Enid's house early on Sunday evening so she could help her friend set up for the party. Enid usually had friends over in tiny groups, and Elizabeth knew that the prospect of a big crowd might be intimidating. But as Enid herself had said, she could hardly not invite people who had been so enthusiastic about spending time with Jake, even people such as Lila and Amy, who were not exactly her closest friends!
Mrs. Rollins had suggested that a barbecue would be the easiest way to feed everybody, and when Elizabeth arrived, she and Enid were busily setting out paper plates and napkins on a picnic table and several folding tables in the Rollinses' backyard.
"Where's Jake?" Elizabeth asked as she tore open a package of plastic forks.
"Upstairs taking a shower," Enid answered, avoiding her friend's eyes.
Mrs. Rollins went into the house for a minute, leaving Elizabeth and Enid alone.
"I thought if we brought the stereo speakers out here we could discourage people from going inside more than they have to," Enid said as she busily arranged a cluster of chairs. She still did not look at Elizabeth. She seemed flustered and out of sorts.
Elizabeth knew her friend well enough to guess something was bothering her. "Are you OK, Enid? You look kind of upset."
"I'm fine," Enid said quickly. "Maybe a little tired, that's all. Jake and I were at the beach all afternoon."
Several minutes later Jake appeared, carrying a stack of cassettes. He seemed fairly subdued, and Elizabeth could not help but wonder if Jake and Enid had had an argument.
"I'm sorry this weekend has to end," Elizabeth said at last, to break the silence.
Enid and Jake glanced at each other, then away again. "Me, too," Enid said, a bit unconvincingly.
Elizabeth waited until Jake had gone inside to help Mrs. Rollins before she asked Enid again if everything was OK.
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"I can't really talk about it," Enid said quietly. Then, with more resolve, she added, "I promise I'll tell you some other time. But trust me. Everything's OK."
Jake and Mrs. Rollins came back out to the yard. Mrs. Rollins held several bags of potato chips, and Jake hefted a cooler full of cold drinks. Suddenly there was so much to do and so little time that Elizabeth was forced to ignore her friend's trouble. At least until she caught Enid furtively looking at Jake with an expression of wonder and sadness.
"What do you think?" Jessica presented herself to Lila. She had given her tightest pair of blue jeans a new look. "I bleached them. And then I put them on and sat in the bathtub in really hot water," she explained. "I don't think they'll ever come off. So you think Jake will like me in them?"
"You know," Lila replied glumly, falling back on her big bed, "I don't think Jake likes either of us that much, Jess. He's had all weekend to fall madly in love, and it hasn't happened."
Jessica tossed her hair away from her face. "You just don't appreciate subtlety, Lila Fowler. Jake isn't the sort of guy who just pounces on a girl. And tonight's his last night in Sweet Valley. He's bound to make his choice known!"
Lila sighed. "Listen, I think he's a great guy. He's cute, and he has a pretty good sense of humor. But the fact remains that he hasn't really been paying special attention to either one of us. Maybe he does have a girlfriend back home. Anyway, I have to confess I don't get the sense he's fallen in love with me. Or with you either, for that matter."
Before Jessica could argue, Lila added, "And nobody could possibly fall in love at Enid Rollins's house. They don't even have a swimming pool. Their house is completely unromantic!"
Jessica dabbed on some of Lila's expensive perfume. "Leave it to me, Lila. You can give up if you want to, but I think tonight will be the night. And I don't think Jake has a girlfriend back home in San Francisco. He's just playing it cool, waiting for the right moment."
Lila giggled. "Do you think Amy will make as big a fool of herself tonight as she did last night at the Beach Disco?"
"I hope not, for her sake," Jessica said fiercely. "Doesn't she realize Tom's got zero interest in her?"
Lila shrugged. "Apparently not. Do you think we should tell her what you overheard between Tom and Barry last night?"
Jessica shook her head. "Let her find out for herself. She deserves it."
Lila sat up and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess. I wouldn't mind a truce, though. I kind of miss Amy."
"Soon," Jessica promised. "After she thrashes around a little bit longer. She's so obsessed with getting Tom that she's probably hardly even noticed we've been avoiding her!"
By eight o'clock Enid's barbecue was in full swing. Music was blasting out over the crowded lawn, guests were talking, eating hamburgers and hot dogs, and dancing on the softly lit patio.
Amy had decided not to come until the party was well under way in order to make an entrance. She had worked hard on her appearance tonight. Betting that everyone else would be wearing jeans, she had chosen a red halter-dress, one that showed off her tan and her figure, and made it hard not to notice her.
Amy headed straight for Enid and Jake to thank them for having invited her. ''The party looks like fun," Amy said, craning her neck anxiously. Where was Tom?
She spotted Tom by the grill, trying to balance a plate heaped with food and a soft drink. "Excuse me," Amy said to Enid and Jake as she darted off in Tom's direction.
"Tom! Hi!" she called brightly. Tom didn't acknowledge her greeting, but pushed off through the crowd.
Amy stopped short, disappointed. Someone brushed up beside her. "You look ravishing," Barry announced as he gave her a mock bow.
She looked mournfully after Tom. "Not ravishing enough," she mumbled. Barry followed her gaze and cleared his throat. "Come dance with me," he urged.
"Barry, let's just get some food and sit down for a while. I'm not sure I feel like dancing right now."
She knew her answer was not the most flattering thing she could have said, but it was the truth. And just now, Amy was not up to anything but honesty!
"Jake," Jessica said in her most winning flirtatious voice, "do you realize you and I haven't been alone together for a single minute this entire weekend?"
Jake spooned some pasta salad onto his plate. "I've always wondered about that phrase 'alone together.' It doesn't make much sense, does it?" He was teasing. Jessica decided it might be a good sign.
"Well," she continued boldly, "maybe I can show you what it means. Do you want to take a walk?" What have I got to lose? she asked herself. After tomorrow she would never see him again, right?
Jake's eyes fixed on hers. "Jessica, I like you a lot. But I'd rather stay here and enjoy being with everyone, OK?"
His rejection was so matter-of-fact that Jessica hardly noticed she had been rebuffed. How had Jake managed to make himself so clear without saying anything hurtful?
"But I'd love to dance," Jake said, smiling warmly.
"Sure." Jessica shrugged. Why not just enjoy Jake's company? After all, Jake was going back to San Francisco the next day. What good would it have done if she had swept him off his feet?
Tom was not having a very good time at Enid's barbecue. He was still upset about his talk with Jean earlier that afternoon, and he was finding it almost impossible to avoid Amy Sutton. It seemed that everywhere he turned, there she was, coming toward him with a soda, asking him to dance, making cheerful small talk. He felt like a cornered animal.
"You've got to save me, Barry," Tom whispered to his friend halfway through the evening. "Give her a sedative or something. Knock her out. Just do something!"
"I don't know," Barry answered dubiously. "I think she's starting to get the idea."
"Well, I don't think so. She must be a glutton for punishment," Tom said woefully.
"I'd do anything to change her feelings, Tom." Barry sighed. "But I can't. I guess you'll have to grin and bear it."
Tom blushed. "Not very sensitive of me, complaining this way," he said. "Sorry, Barry. I know you like Amy. It's just . . ."
Tom stood straighter and took a deep breath. He had noticed Jake, hands deep in his pockets, heading away from the crowd, apparently deep in thought.
"Listen, I'll be back soon," Tom told Barry. Before Barry could answer, Tom hurried after Jake.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Tom called to him when he was a few feet away. "You're not allowed to leave. You're the guest of honor!"
Jake laughed, but he seemed tense. Tom could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.
"I needed a breather. You know how it feels when you've been 'on' all weekend. I thought a quick walk might help me, you know, recharge."
Tom nodded. "Can I come with you? I kind of need to escape, too."
Jake paused and looked at Tom steadily. "OK," he said.
The two boys walked around to the front of Enid's house and onto the sidewalk. Suddenly Tom felt as though there were a million things he wanted to tell Jake. He wished he could tell him about what had happened with Jean, about how upset he was that he didn't know how to handle Amy's advances with a little more skill. He wanted to ask Jake what he thought of Sweet Valley, whether he would ever be back. But instead he walked beside him in silence.
"It's been fun, this weekend," Jake said after a while.
Tom nodded. "Yeah. I've enjoyed having you around." Tom cleared his throat. That was not the sort of thing he usually told his friends, but, well, Tom wasn't sure why, but he felt it was important to tell Jake how he felt.
Jake looked pleased, then slightly ill at ease. "Listen, I'm glad you feel that way. You're a great guy, Tom, you know that?"
Tom reddened. This was so awkward! No wonder guys weren't in the habit of telling each other they valued each other's friendship, the way girls did. It was way too hard! "Thanks. It isn't easy for me to say what I mean sometimes," Tom said, laughing softly.
"It's not always that easy for me, either," Jake agreed. "I often
find it hard to connect with people. We don't seem to be on the same wavelength. A lot of people don't like me," he concluded.
Tom looked at Jake with disbelief. "Jake, I don't believe that. Haven't you seen the way Enid's friends welcomed you? Everyone wants to be with you. Half the girls are in love with you," he added, smiling a bit ruefully as he thought of his own circumstances.
Jake looked distressed, but forced himself to go on. "It's different when you're visiting just for a weekend. People see what they want to. They don't get to know the real me, the me underneath. It's not always easy for me once people find out . . ." Jake's voice trailed off and he stared up at the sky as if he were searching for the rest of his sentence there.
"Find out what?" Tom demanded. What could there possibly be about Jake Farrell that people wouldn't like?
"Once they find out I'm gay," Jake concluded. He didn't look at Tom, but continued to stare at the sky.
Tom stopped. "You're . . . ?"
Maybe he hadn't heard Jake correctly. Jake Farrell? Gay?
"Well, why should that make any difference?" Tom heard himself saying. His voice sounded a little funny, but not shocked. He felt shocked, but his voice remained in control.
Jake had continued to walk on a few paces. Now he stopped, turned, and laughed. "I'm glad you feel that way. It's always a little scary, telling people. Especially people you want as friends. Let me tell you, Tom. A lot of people drop you the minute they find out you're gay. Maybe they know what they're doing, maybe they don't. But it hurts the same either way."
Tom nodded. He hoped he looked normal to Jake. His face felt like stone. Jake Farrell is gay, he thought.
It doesn't make one bit of difference, he told himself quickly. Everyone is entitled to whatever life-style he or she wants. That was something Tom had been raised to believe. But right now he felt uncomfortable. Maybe it was hearing Jake's news so directly. All of a sudden, Tom felt very nervous. He felt as though anything he would say would be wrong.
"Well," Tom said at last. He cleared his throat and looked at Jake, as if waiting for some kind of signal.
Amy's True Love (Sweet Valley High Book 75) Page 6