Hurry back, Annie, please, Elizabeth prayed to herself.
“Where’s my baby?” Mrs. Whitman asked.
Relieved to be off the subject of her pretty name, Elizabeth told her that Annie had gone down the hall to help out a neighbor.
“Oh, I bet it’s that loony old Mrs. Jorgenson,” Mrs. Whitman said in disgust. “Why Annie lets that old lady bother her is beyond me. She’d be better off staying here with a nice friend like you. And I’m going to tell her how rude she’s being,” Mrs. Whitman concluded. The smell of liquor mixed with the scent of her perfume.
“No, it’s all right, Mrs. Whitman. Really it is,” Elizabeth protested. “I think it’s nice of Annie to help out like that.” You could probably learn something from your daughter, she added silently.
“Well, of course,” said Mrs. Whitman, changing her viewpoint at once. “That’s my Annie. She’s so sweet, so generous with her time. I’ve always encouraged her to be kind to everyone.”
I’ll bet you have, Elizabeth thought as she watched Mrs. Whitman sink gracefully into a dark blue, velour-covered chair. The blue was a perfect backdrop for Mrs. Whitman’s white slacks and long-sleeved, white silk shirt. No one could deny that she had the looks and poise of a professional model.
“Tell me about you and Annie, Elizabeth. Have you been good friends a long time?” The bright smile was back on her lips.
Elizabeth winced at being put on the spot like that.
“Well, Mrs. Whitman, Annie and I have known each other for about a year. I like Annie, but I don’t know if you could say we’re really good friends.”
As she saw the disappointed look on Mrs. Whitman’s face, Elizabeth quickly added, “Annie’s a year younger than I am, you know. I’m sure her good friends are girls her own age.”
Mrs. Whitman didn’t respond for a few minutes. “I guess you’re right,” she said slowly. “I hope you’re right, Elizabeth. I’ve just never met any of them.” There was a long, awkward pause.
Finally Mrs. Whitman spoke again. “Elizabeth, may I talk to you about Annie?”
Wishing she could say no, Elizabeth said, “Sure.”
“Is my little girl, ah … well liked at school?”
“Well liked?” Elizabeth echoed.
“I mean, is she popular?”
Oh, boy, Elizabeth thought. Popular doesn’t say half of it. Elizabeth wondered if Mrs. Whitman took any notice at all of her daughter’s comings and goings. She appeared to be genuinely concerned about Annie, but she didn’t seem to understand how important it was to make the time to pay attention to her. She was simply too wrapped up in her own doings.
“I’m probably not the right person to ask, Mrs. Whitman,” Elizabeth hedged, “but from what I’ve seen, I think Annie’s popular.”
Mrs. Whitman let out her breath in relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. I worry about my baby. You see, my schedule keeps me so busy that I don’t have much time for Annie.”
My mother’s busy, too, Elizabeth wanted to say. But she always has time for Jessica and me.
“And of course there’s Johnny.”
Elizabeth shivered at the mention of his name.
“I just wish Annie would bring more of her friends home,” Mrs. Whitman continued. “She should have parties at home, like the other kids do. Don’t you agree, Elizabeth?”
“Well, I think that’s up to Annie, Mrs. Whitman.” Elizabeth knew that if she were Annie, she wouldn’t want to invite her friends to this home.
Annie burst through the door. “You’ll never guess where I found her glasses this time! They were on the pantry shelf between the cat food and the plastic—” The smile left her face, and the light seemed to go out of her eyes as she looked from her mother to Elizabeth.
“Mom,” she said, “how long have you been home?”
“Just a few minutes, baby,” Mrs. Whitman said, getting to her feet. “I’ll leave you two pretty girls to get on with your work. It was nice to see you again, Elizabeth,” she said as she left the room.
“‘Bye, Mrs. Whitman,” Elizabeth called to the retreating back.
Annie looked at Elizabeth nervously. “What was my mother saying to you?” she asked, a note of fear in her voice.
Elizabeth crossed her fingers behind her back. “Oh, we were talking about school and things,” she fibbed.
But the study sessions had been worth it. Annie had sailed through a small quiz, and now she’d passed the really big test, the one that decided the grade for the marking period.
“Annie, I’m so proud of you.” Elizabeth was glowing. “This is even bigger news than the cheerleader tryouts.”
Annie grew sober, and she stared at Elizabeth. “Oh, Liz, don’t even say that. Nothing else will count if I don’t make the squad.”
Walking home that day, Elizabeth wondered why she had done it again. Why had she gotten involved in Annie Whitman’s life when she knew perfectly well that Jessica hated the girl? Maybe that was the reason. Because poor Annie just didn’t realize what a powerful enemy she had.
Elizabeth sighed, resolving to forget about the whole problem and concentrate on the evening ahead. The round of tests that had kept everyone studying was now over. That meant a full house at the Beach Disco that night. Elizabeth couldn’t wait to let loose with Todd on the dance floor.
The crowd was already going strong by the time they arrived that night. The Surfers’ Waves, a band from Northern California, were playing some hot new tunes, and everybody was having a terrific time. Jessica was there with Skip Harmon. She was wearing a black-and-red striped top and her shortest skirt. It had taken her almost two weeks to get Skip to ask her out, because Skip was a senior and had often told everyone he never looked at any of the junior girls.
“He’ll look at me,” Jessica had told Elizabeth. “And what’s more, he’ll ask me out within a week.”
Elizabeth had laughed. “No way.”
“What do we bet?”
“Who washes the Fiat next?”
“You’re on,” Jessica said.
Dancing with Todd, Elizabeth made a mental note never to bet against Jessica when it came to snagging a guy.
“Want to help me wash the car Saturday?” she said in Todd’s ear.
“Sure,” he answered. “I’ll help you do anything.” He drew her closer.
She smiled. “Easy, caveman.”
Yes, it was shaping up as a wonderful, relaxing evening until Elizabeth happened to notice that Jessica had stopped dancing with Skip and was staring fixedly across the floor.
Elizabeth followed her sister’s gaze. Annie Whitman was walking through the door—instantly catching everybody’s attention in a slinky outfit with a skirt that had a slit almost to the top of her thigh. And as if that wasn’t enough, she was accompanied by none other than Bruce Patman, the handsome, arrogant captain of the Sweet Valley High tennis team and the son of one of the wealthiest men in town.
Bruce was also Jessica’s number-one deadly enemy. For the briefest time they had been the golden couple of the school, but their relationship had turned into a battle of wits that Jessica wasn’t likely to forget. And now, any iota of a chance that Annie Whitman might have had with Jessica was blown to smithereens as she and Bruce made their way toward the dance floor.
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. The wonderful, relaxing evening was starting to slide downhill.
Picking up on her mood instantly, as he always seemed to do, Todd leaned his face toward hers and looked into her eyes. “What’s the matter, Liz? Are you feeling all right?”
“Hmmm?”
He gave her a gentle hug. “‘Hmmm’ isn’t much of an answer. What’s up?”
Elizabeth sighed again before answering. “I’m sorry, Todd.” She squeezed his hand in apology. “I suddenly wish we were someplace else.”
“You want me to carry you out of this place,” he offered, bending as if to lift her into his arms. “Me Tarzan, you Jane. Let’s go find a couple of vines.”
&nb
sp; His grin was irresistible. Laughing, she punched him lightly in the midsection. “You idiot, me worrier. And vines are my least favorite form of transportation.”
“What is my favorite worrier worrying about this evening?” Todd asked tenderly.
Just as Elizabeth was about to pour her heart out, Todd suddenly smacked his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Why am I even asking?” he said, his voice rising. “They don’t call us dumb jocks for nothing. It’s Jessica, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Jess is in some kind of trouble—or about to be—and you’re going to bail her out again.”
“That’s not fair, Todd. I know Jessica’s not your favorite person in the world, but she is my twin. You could try giving her the benefit of the doubt every once in a while.” Todd’s dislike for Jessica was a sore spot for Elizabeth. Trouble though she might be, no one attacked Jessica and got away with it when Elizabeth was around. Not even Todd.
Todd faced Elizabeth and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to help. Like I said, jocks are dumb.”
Elizabeth looked up at him. Tall and lean, with warm brown eyes, Todd looked especially handsome that night in his gray cords and burgundy shirt. Why did he put up with her? She always seemed to take out her frustration about Jessica on him.
“I don’t think jocks are dumb,” she said quietly. “I think you’re the smartest basketball player I’ve ever dated.” She moved a step closer to him.
“How many have you dated?” he asked.
“Only one.”
“Good,” he said, pulling her close to him.
Jessica was still eyeing Annie when the Beach Disco’s manager, a heavyset man named Mel, jumped up on the bandstand and announced a dance contest. The Surfers’ Waves began whipping up a foam of music, and Todd and Elizabeth happily plunged into the rhythm, along with Jessica and Skip Harmon, and Annie Whitman and Bruce Patman.
There were plenty of good dancers at the Beach Disco that night, but it didn’t take long to see that Skip Harmon was the best dancer of all the guys on the floor. He and Jessica whirled around the Beach Disco, outclassing everybody.
Except for one other couple.
Though Bruce Patman wasn’t quite as smooth a dancer as Skip, he was pretty flashy and had a lot of style. But what made Bruce look particularly good was his partner—Annie Whitman.
Annie, it was clear to see, was a natural.
Mel danced around holding his hand over the heads of the couples to see who got the most applause, and finally only two couples were left on the floor—Skip Harmon and Jessica, and Annie and Bruce.
All the kids at Sweet Valley knew that Jessica was one of the best dancers at school. Her blond hair streamed out around her as she moved in perfect harmony with the music. But nobody had ever seen Annie Whitman on the dance floor before. It was clear that Jessica had some stiff competition.
Mel held his hand over the heads of Jessica and Skip, then over Annie and Bruce. He continued to run back and forth as the disco rocked with applause that was just as loud for one couple as for the other.
Finally Mel gave an exaggerated shrug of helplessness. Then he grabbed Jessica’s hand and held it up and grabbed Annie’s hand and held it up, too, to indicate a draw.
Annie turned toward Jessica, a look of absolute happiness on her face.
“You and me, Jess—isn’t it great!”
Jessica’s plastered-on smile didn’t waver, but Elizabeth saw that look and knew it was carved out of purest ice.
Later on, Elizabeth ran into Annie as they were all leaving. Annie was still bubbling with triumph.
“Wasn’t that something?” she said, laughing.
“It sure was,” Elizabeth said.
“I showed Jessica I was good, didn’t I?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, you did.” But she was thinking, You didn’t just show her—you showed her up!
“Don’t you think this will make a difference?” Annie asked.
Oh, yes, it’ll make a difference, Elizabeth thought. The odds against Annie’s making the cheerleading squad had just gone up to about a million to one.
Five
How could the same event cause exactly the opposite reactions in two different people? Elizabeth wondered. And yet that’s what had happened. Annie Whitman thought that by showing Jessica she could dance just as well as Jessica could, it meant her selection as a cheerleader was now certain.
And Jessica made it clear to Elizabeth that Annie’s “disgustingly showy performance” at the Beach Disco meant she would never be a cheerleader.
As they walked to school Monday morning, Elizabeth sighed. She had been listening to Jessica ranting all weekend. “Jess, exactly what is it that you think she did?”
“What? Why, she made a total fool of herself in front of everybody,” Jessica snapped.
“By dancing?”
“By dancing with Bruce Patman!”
Elizabeth examined her sister’s angry face. “Jess, is it just possible that you’re so angry because Annie did as well as you did?”
“That’s absurd,” Jessica raged. “Besides, she wasn’t as good. It was just the novelty of seeing her dance for the first time. Everybody was surprised.”
“You’re wrong,” Elizabeth said. “Annie’s a terrific dancer.”
“The nerve, the absolute nerve of her standing there trying to pretend she’s as good as I am,” Jessica howled. “As good as you or any of us.”
“Well, isn’t she?”
“No! Double no. Triple no! A thousand times no! You want to say Easy Annie is acceptable? No, no, no, no, no!”
The twins were almost in front of Sweet Valley High as the discussion heated up. It was the day of the cheerleading semifinals, and Elizabeth knew it was a critical day for Annie. But all Elizabeth’s attempts at softening Jessica’s attitude toward Annie had failed. It looked more hopeless than ever.
“Maybe she’ll flunk the marking period,” Jessica said hopefully. “Maybe they’ll put her back on probation, and she won’t be eligible.”
“I don’t think she’ll fail,” Elizabeth said.
“I just don’t understand it,” Jessica complained. “How did she get so smart lately? She used to be so stupid.”
“Jess, I really think she’s trying to change for the better. She’s been studying and working hard. And making the cheerleading squad is about the most important thing in her life right now. It would do her a world of good.”
“How do you know she’s been studying? Why, she’s out with a different guy every night! Bruce Patman, Rick Andover, and Lord knows who else.”
Elizabeth walked on in silence. It was true. Annie kept right on dating, keeping her “popularity” up, as she put it.
Jessica was still fuming as they neared the wide green lawns of the high school. “Did it ever occur to you, Liz, that letting her on the squad would do us all a world of harm?”
“Not if she’s changing, Jess!”
“Well, she isn’t! She’s still Easy Annie.”
Jessica left her sister on the front steps and marched off defiantly. As she hurried along to her locker, she felt certain that she’d be able to cut Annie Whitman at the semifinals that afternoon. The first time, Annie had been amazingly lucky. But could she repeat her performance? Jessica wondered. With all the studying she must have been doing recently, not to mention all the dating, she couldn’t possibly have had time to practice her cheers. Jessica was confident that Annie wouldn’t be prepared.
The second cut would reduce the number of would-be cheerleaders from twenty-five to eight. Cara Walker and Sandra Bacon were going to be among that eight, Jessica had decided, and Annie Whitman was definitely not going to be.
She wasn’t prejudging Annie, Jessica told herself. It was just that she knew the girl would fall on her face.
Later in the day, Elizabeth sat in the Oracle office, typing her latest “Eyes and Ears” column and congratulating herself on having helped
Annie with her studying while still escaping detection. In other words, Jessica hadn’t found out, which was a great relief. She was putting the finishing touches on the column when Jessica herself walked into the office with a list of the eight finalists.
“Already?” asked a surprised Elizabeth. “I thought the tryouts weren’t until after school.”
“Well, they aren’t,” Jessica confessed, “but you won’t make your deadline if we wait till then. You can be sure this is the list.”
Elizabeth scanned the names.
“Jessica!” she scolded.
Jessica Wakefield’s eyes widened—pure innocence personified. “I’m trying to give you a scoop, Liz.”
“I’ll take the list—after the tryouts.”
And then who should dash into the Oracle office but Annie Whitman, all aglow.
“I made it,” she gushed to Jessica. “A B-minus in math! Oh, Liz, how can I ever thank you enough for helping me?”
Annie gave Elizabeth a huge hug before dashing back out of the office and off to her next class. “See you at the gym!” she told Jessica as she was leaving.
“So!” declared Jessica as soon as Annie had disappeared.
Elizabeth turned toward her work.
“Traitor!”
Elizabeth typed furiously.
“I knew somebody was helping that girl,” Jessica fumed, “but I never dreamed it would be my very own flesh and blood!”
Elizabeth stopped and looked pleadingly at her twin. “Give her a chance, Jess, will you?”
Jessica’s answer was to turn and march out of the room.
Elizabeth lifted her fingers from the keyboard and rested her chin on her hand. “What timing,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t one of them have come in five minutes later?”
“Is this a private conversation, or can a mere teacher get in on it?” The words, accompanied by a soft chuckle, startled Elizabeth.
“What?” she said, turning quickly to see Mr. Collins in the doorway. The good-looking Oracle adviser was grinning at her.
If another teacher had caught her talking to herself, Elizabeth might have been embarrassed. But Mr. Collins was different. Every girl in Sweet Valley High knew just how different Roger Collins was. In his late twenties, he was one of the youngest teachers on the faculty. Everything about him—his tall, slim build, his strawberry-blond hair, the well-cut sport jackets he wore—seemed perfect. “He makes the rest of the teachers look like they shop at the Salvation Army,” Jessica had once said.
Wrong Kind of Girl Page 4