Book Read Free

Amy's True Love (Sweet Valley High Book 75)

Page 9

by Francine Pascal


  But the rest of them, Jessica, Lila, and Barry. They were still laughing at her. She just knew it.

  "Amy, wait up!" a breathless voice cried. It was Jessica, her face red from running down the hall.

  "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all afternoon," Jessica panted.

  Amy looked at her suspiciously. "I've been around."

  "Listen, I just wanted to tell you I think Kirk Anderson is a creep. He never should have said what he did at lunch."

  "You do?" Amy could barely believe her ears.

  "Yeah, I do. And I bet Tom would've gone to the concert with you if he weren't still upset about Jeanie," Jessica added generously.

  Amy's heart pounded. Jessica, making excuses for her? She hadn't expected this.

  "I'm not so sure," Amy admitted. "I don't think he's very interested in me."

  Jessica shrugged. "His loss, then. Right?" She gave Amy one of her most winning smiles, and for a second Amy felt a little bit better.

  "I must've looked like such a fool," Amy moaned as the memory of the fiasco came flooding back in all its vivid horror.

  Jessica's turquoise eyes were thoughtful. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Just forget the whole thing," she advised. "Anyway, Anderson is hardly the one to call someone dumb." Jessica laughed. "I heard he flunked three of his classes last term."

  Amy smiled. Maybe her friends were not so bad after all.

  "And there's certainly nothing wrong with being blond," Jessica pointed out.

  "I bet everyone at the whole table talked about it when I left," Amy continued, hoping to hear the gruesome truth now and get it over with.

  "Unh-unh," Jessica denied. "Barry really laid into Kirk, though. That guy adores you," she declared.

  "Barry?" Amy laughed uncomfortably. "Just my luck to have a guy like that adore me." So Barry had defended her, too, she thought. He could have laughed and gone along with Kirk. But no. She was being unfair to him. Barry had never been anything but a good friend to her.

  Jessica shrugged. "I think Barry's pretty cute. And he's really funny, too."

  Amy was surprised. She thought Jessica would snub Barry in a second. Had she so misjudged him? And Jessica? A warm feeling came over her as she imagined Barry defending her.

  "Where are you going now?" Jessica asked as Amy spun her locker dial shut.

  "I've been volunteering two days a week at the youth clinic downtown," Amy told her. "I thought I'd head down there and see what's going on."

  Jessica's eyes widened. "What kind of clinic? What do you do? I didn't know you had a job!"

  Amy shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I've been doing it as an extra-credit project for sociology. I've been working on the phone lines. Teenagers call in and I listen to them. Sometimes I give them advice."

  "Sounds like my kind of job," Jessica joked. "Lots of phone time."

  "Actually," Amy said, "the work is pretty hard. Lots of the kids who call in have serious problems. Some just want to talk, some are just lonely. But I really like the work. I may even stay on once my project's finished." Amy waited for Jessica's reaction. She couldn't believe she was talking this way to Jessica. She had thought she would keep her work at the clinic a secret to avoid being teased about it.

  "That sounds great," Jessica said, looking both impressed and surprised. "Wow, Amy, I'd never have guessed you'd be into something like social work."

  Neither would I, Amy thought.

  "So I guess that means you don't really feel like going to the mall," Jessica continued.

  Amy smiled. "How about picking me up at the clinic in an hour?" Enjoying her work at the clinic didn't mean giving up shopping! And it had been a long time since she had been to the mall with her friends!

  "Great. I'll see if Lila wants to come, too." Jessica bounded off with a final wave. Amy watched her, a smile playing about her lips.

  Amy got back from the mall just before dinner. Her parents were on the patio, drinking iced tea.

  "Amy! Your father finished the new draft of his book. We want to go out to dinner to celebrate," her mother said, beaming.

  Amy looked at them uncertainly. Did her mother mean just the two of them, or was she included?

  "You've been so patient with me, both of you." Her father grinned. "The least I can do is treat my two favorite women to a lovely dinner."

  Amy was relieved. "That sounds great," she said. "I can wear the new sweater I just bought at the mall."

  Her mother laughed. "You know, we've been feeling pretty badly about how little time we've been spending as a family lately," she said. "In fact, I talked to my staff today. I'm making it a rule to be home earlier from now on. And no more taking on assignments I could just as easily give to my assistants."

  Mr. Sutton nodded. "We don't want to drift apart, just because we're all busy."

  Amy looked from one parent to the other. "So I wasn't just imagining it?"

  "I think we've been fairly preoccupied," her mother said.

  Amy took a deep breath. "That isn't the only thing," she blurted. "Sometimes you two act as if you don't take me seriously. Just because I'm young and I haven't found anything I'm intense about yet, like you're intense about your careers." Amy couldn't look either of them in the eye. She had never planned to say that to them.

  "Amy, what do you mean?" her mother asked softly.

  "I just want to feel . . . I don't know. I want to know that you two respect me," Amy said.

  Her father stood up and put his arm around her. "Sweetheart, we do respect you. Your mother and I can get too wrapped up in our work. We think it's delightful you're not as stressed out as we are!"

  "Please don't just say that if you don't mean it," Amy pleaded.

  "Amy, we do mean it," her mother said. "Your father and I both believe that what matters most in life is to be happy. And it takes time and concentration to discover what you like to do. When I spoke to you last week about your plans for college, I wasn't trying to force you to make a decision based on what your father or I decided for ourselves years ago. We want you to care about what you choose to do with your life, but what counts most is that you choose it."

  Amy smiled. Her parents sounded as if they really meant what they said. She took a deep breath and nodded. "OK," she said. "I think I'm ready for some celebrating now!"

  ''Great!"

  "Oh, by the way, Amy, I took a message for you from Elizabeth Wakefield. She's doing a story on a local youth clinic for the school paper." Mrs. Sutton looked curiously at her daughter. "Something about student volunteers. Do you know what she's talking about?"

  Amy turned pink. Elizabeth Wakefield wanted to do an interview with her?

  "Oh, it's nothing," she said quickly. "I've been doing some volunteer work at Project Youth two afternoons a week."

  "What do you mean, 'nothing'? Why didn't you mention it before?" her mother asked, surprised.

  "Well, to tell you the truth . . ." Amy sighed. "I started out doing it to raise my sociology grade. My work there certainly didn't seem like anything to brag about! But I found I really like working at the clinic, and I think I may keep on even after I've finished the report I'm writing for my teacher."

  "Exactly what kind of clinic is it?" her father asked. He seemed really interested.

  Amy described Project Youth and told her parents a little bit about what it was like to take calls from troubled kids. They listened avidly.

  "Amy, it sounds very exciting," her mother exclaimed.

  "Yeah? Do you think I might be a good social worker one day?" she asked uncertainly.

  Mr. Sutton gave her a hug. "Well, that's something you'll be the best judge of. But I'd bet any amount of money on it. I know that whatever you choose to do, you'll do well!"

  "So you guys don't think I'm a dumb blonde?" Amy asked.

  "What?" her mother cried.

  "Did someone call you that?" her father demanded.

  "Just some jerk at school," Amy muttered.

  Her mother's
expression was furious. "I can't stand it when people put each other down that way! Especially after women have worked so hard to have the same legal rights that men have enjoyed for years. . . ."

  Amy swallowed hard. Deep down she knew that Kirk Anderson was not the only one guilty of stereotyping. Hadn't she done more or less the same thing to Tom? A "cute blond jock," that's what she had called him.

  It wasn't just guys who labeled girls, she realized unhappily. Sometimes girls were just as guilty as guys.

  Maybe now that she knew she had the support of her friends and family she could learn to start thinking about guys more fairly. After all, they were people, too!

  "Hey, all this talk has made me hungry. Any chance we can get some dinner?" her father asked.

  Amy was just going inside to change into her new sweater when the doorbell rang. Her mother, who had followed her in, went to answer it.

  "Flowers?" her mother said wonderingly as she admired the sweet, bright blooms. "These are gorgeous. I wonder who they're from? Maybe Gwynn from the station sent these, in celebration of the Stan Maverick interview."

  "Hey, they could be for me," Mr. Sutton called as he came from the back of the house. "A subtle hint from my editor!"

  "They're for Amy!" Mrs. Sutton exclaimed as she read the envelope attached to the bouquet.

  Amy's eyes grew wide. She had never received a bouquet before, delivered from the florist. The flowers were gorgeous. She closed her eyes and took a deep, appreciative sniff.

  "Who are they from?" her mother asked excitedly.

  Amy slipped the card out of the little envelope. "I hope these brighten your weekend. Lots of love, Barry," she read aloud.

  A blush spread across her face.

  "Uh-oh," her father said, grinning. "Looks like my daughter has a real fan."

  "Amy, are these flowers from that boy you were telling me about the other night? The one you like so much?" her mother asked.

  Amy started to say no, then stopped and shook her head. "They're from a friend," she said mysteriously. She slipped off to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

  Barry was a pretty special guy. Maybe Jessica was right. He wasn't so bad-looking. Not bad-looking at all. And he sure knew how to lift her spirits!

  "Nothing like a Saturday afternoon," Lila crooned. She lay flat on her back on the hot sand, her eyes squeezed shut. "Am I tan yet?"

  Amy giggled. "We just got here, Lila."

  Jessica was sitting up, her eyes fixed on the spot where some surfers were getting ready to test the waves. "Look at those muscles. Those guys are gorgeous," she exclaimed.

  Amy followed her gaze. They were handsome. She felt a brief pang of regret as she thought about how she had admired Tom's muscular build.

  But Amy had to admit it was not Tom she missed. She had never really known him as a person. She had loved the way he looked, she had loved his image. That's all she had been pursuing—an image, and not a real person. And one of the lessons Amy had learned was that by focusing too closely on an image you could lose sight of the real person underneath.

  "I'm going to get some ice cream. Do you want some?" Amy asked as she got to her feet.

  "I want something calorie-free," Lila said without opening her eyes.

  "Me, too," Jessica murmured.

  The concession stand was crowded, and Amy took her place in line. She was just beginning to feel impatient when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  "Amy Sutton! I didn't know cheerleader-phone counselors moonlighted as beach bums!"

  It was Barry.

  Amy turned. "Hi! Thanks for the flowers," she said shyly.

  Barry looked cute. He was wearing neon-green swimming trunks and a pair of sunglasses hung on a cord around his neck.

  Barry grinned. "Hey," he said. "What's a friend for?"

  For a moment neither said anything.

  "You know," Amy said suddenly, and at the exact same time Barry said, "I was thinking . . ."

  They both broke off and laughed.

  "You first," Barry said graciously.

  "No, you," Amy replied.

  Barry took a deep breath. "This may not be the right time to tell you this, but I did warn you I was a straightforward person. Amy, I've been dying to go out with you for ages. And when you appeared at Project Youth, I just couldn't believe my luck. I think you're pretty great."

  Amy blushed. Barry was a little unsure of himself, but obviously very sincere!

  "Well," she said, smiling, "I just happen to have some pretty terrific tickets to the Number One concert tonight."

  Barry's face lit up. "You still want to go?"

  "Sure!" Amy said. Going to a concert with Barry would be a lot of fun. She felt her spirits lifting. So far, the weekend was turning out to be pretty great. Dinner last night with her parents, the beach today with her friends, and the concert tonight with Barry!

  In fact, by the time Amy returned to Jessica and Lila, she felt as if she were floating on air.

  "What's going on? You look as if you just won the lottery," Lila said as she took the diet soda Amy handed her.

  Amy shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just in a good mood, that's all."

  "Hey, Amy, what are you going to do with those concert tickets?" Jessica asked curiously. "You know, I wouldn't mind seeing the Number One."

  "Neither would I," Lila added.

  "Thanks, but I'm going with Barry Rork," Amy said calmly as she unwrapped her ice-cream bar.

  Lila looked surprised. "You're kidding," Lila said. "Isn't he a little, I don't know. . . ."

  "Nice," Amy said firmly. "He's nice. And he happens to be my friend."

  Jessica laughed. "That's telling her, Amy!"

  Amy finished unpeeling the wrapper from her ice-cream bar and polished it off in minutes. Come to think of it, maybe Barry was already more than a friend. Who could tell? Lately, it seemed as if anything could happen!

  Thirteen

  When Elizabeth met Enid for lunch on Monday, a frown creased her pretty face. "I can't believe it," she said. "Have you heard that the Chamber of Commerce is sponsoring a beauty pageant in Sweet Valley? They're advertising all over town for fifteen-to eighteen-year-old girls." Elizabeth shuddered. "I thought beauty pageants were a thing of the past. A bunch of girls parading around in bathing suits and evening gowns. . . ."

  "Yuck," Enid agreed. "I wonder how people at school are going to react to it." She looked across the cafeteria to the table at which Claire Middleton was sitting. Claire had recently tried out for a coveted spot as quarterback for The Gladiators, Sweet Valley High's football team. A number of girls at school had rallied around her, supporting her desire to be part of a traditionally all-male sport, and since then, Claire had been known as a strong supporter of feminist rights. "Claire's going to hate it," Enid remarked.

  "And she's not the only one! I just hope the pageant doesn't get very many contestants," Elizabeth said. "Beauty pageants are completely degrading."

  Enid was about to comment further when Tom McKay stopped at their table. "Can I sit with you two?" he asked, his expression serious.

  "Sure," Enid said.

  Elizabeth looked at Tom and smiled. She hadn't seen him since their awkward meeting at the clinic, and she wondered how he had been doing since then. True to her promise, she had not shared his secret with anyone.

  Tom picked up his sandwich and put it down again. "Have you heard from Jake since he's been back in San Francisco?" he asked Enid.

  "He called two nights ago. He really enjoyed meeting you, Tom," Enid said.

  "Yeah, well, if he said he liked meeting me, he was just being nice. I was a bit of a jerk to him."

  "Listen, Jake is a very honest person," Enid objected. "If he said he liked you, he meant it. And he asked me to say hi."

  Tom brightened a little. "Your cousin's a great guy. I admire him. But I . . ." Tom searched for the right words. "He told me something in confidence, and I reacted badly. I'd like a chance to tell him I'm sorry."

/>   Enid glanced at Elizabeth. Was that "confidence" the same one Jake had shared with her?

  "You know, Tom, you could always write to Jake. Or call him."

  Tom fidgeted uncomfortably. "Maybe I should do that. Have you got his address?"

  "It's in my locker. I'll get it for you this afternoon," Enid promised.

  They talked a little longer about Jake and his visit, and then the conversation turned to schoolwork. After about ten minutes Enid excused herself. "If I don't cram for my math quiz, I'm in for it!" She waved to Elizabeth and promised to get Jake's address for Tom.

  For a moment neither Elizabeth nor Tom spoke. Then he broke the silence.

  "What I like the most about Jake is that he knows who he is. That sort of knowledge takes a lot of guts."

  "You're not kidding," Elizabeth agreed softly.

  Tom met her eyes. "I don't know yet if I'll ever be that sure of myself. But I hope I can be."

  Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. "I believe you will be, Tom."

  Tom's face was full of emotion. "It's good being able to talk to you, Liz. You know, I'm glad I ran into you at the clinic last week. I'm glad a couple of people know what I'm going through."

  "Are you . . . have you talked to your family yet? Or to your friends?"

  "I talked to Barry a little. And I'll talk to my mom and dad someday. Right now, I'm still trying to figure out what the questions are, let alone the answers! And I'd like to have some answers when I approach them." Tom smiled.

  Elizabeth looked at Tom with real warmth. His friendship and confidence meant a great deal. She felt much closer to Tom than she ever had, and she was sure they were going to become good friends. She wanted to be part of whatever it was that lay ahead for him.

  "You really want to do an interview with me for the paper?" Amy Sutton asked Elizabeth incredulously.

  "I really do. I want to know how you first became interested in the clinic, what sort of work you do there, how you go about solving problems. . . ." Elizabeth took out her pen and paper, ready to jot down Amy's responses.

 

‹ Prev