When Love Dies

  The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Pascal Letter

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Also by Francine Pascal

  Copyright

  Dear Reader,

  The minute I came up with the idea of Sweet Valley High, now thirty years ago, I knew it was perfect. But I knew it needed something else. And that something else was girl power. Unlike the Sleeping Beauty version of romance novels, where the heroine has to wait for the wake-up kiss, in my series the girls would drive the action. And there would be two of them; the good and the bad in all of us.

  After that all I needed were the stories. With my three daughters and my own teenage years to draw on, I had endless possibilities. I started with a bible where I developed the characters, the school, and the town, and then began writing the stories for first twelve books, and then twelve more and more and more until I had written 144 stories. And then with the help of other writers, they became the 144 books of the Sweet Valley High series, which more than 100 million fans have loved.

  And now it’s all back as e-books for a whole new generation of teenagers who want to lose themselves in the world of Sweet Valley, the fantasy of the eighties, and the best high school no one ever went to.

  And for the grown women who want to look back at the love of their high school lives and revel in the nostalgia of life with the most incredible twins, read away.

  Sincerely,

  Francine Pascal

  To Amy Berkower

  One

  “Steve! Aren’t you going to say hi to your favorite sister?”

  Jessica Wakefield tossed her schoolbooks down on the kitchen counter in an untidy pile. Her wide, aquamarine eyes flashed with curiosity as she took in her older brother’s miserable expression. Steven was sitting slumped at the table, staring vacantly into space while he stirred a cup of coffee that had probably gone cold hours ago.

  He looked up and blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. “Hi, uh … Jess,” he said, as if it had taken him a second or two to tell which of his twin sisters was standing before him.

  Boy, what’s wrong with him? Jessica wondered. He can’t even tell who’s who.

  On the outside, there was no denying that Jessica and Elizabeth were identical in every respect. They shared the same sun-streaked golden hair and dazzling white smiles, the same delicate features and perfect size-six figures. Together, they formed a double image of sun-kissed, all-American loveliness.

  Beneath the surface, however, it was a different matter. Tempestuous Jessica seemed to attract trouble the way a magnet draws metal shavings, while the more levelheaded Elizabeth spent a lot of her time trying to disengage herself from the results of her sister’s mischief-making. But at the moment Jessica was honestly concerned about her brother. She sank down in the chair beside his.

  “What’s wrong? You look like your best friend just died.”

  Steven grunted. “It’s nothing.” He stopped stirring his coffee and put the spoon aside. His brown eyes were dark with gloom; his wavy brown hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed. The shadow of a two-day beard darkened his handsome, square-cut face.

  “Nothing! You’ve been walking around here every weekend looking like Dracula’s leftovers. You’re still upset about Tricia, right? More upset than she is, I’ll bet.”

  It really bugged her the way her brother carried on about the trouble he was having with his dumb girlfriend—as if she were really, well, somebody. In Jessica’s opinion Tricia Martin was a nobody. No, worse than a nobody. Tricia came from one of the trashiest families in Sweet Valley. What on earth did Steven see in her anyway? Jessica wondered. She snatched a banana from the fruit bowl, and angrily yanked the peel off.

  “Look, Jess, just lay off, OK?” Steven shot her a warning glare as he got up and stalked out of the room. Jessica saw that there were tears in his eyes.

  A few moments later Elizabeth sailed into the kitchen, put down an armful of books, and removed her sweater. “Hi, Jess,” she said, heading straight for the refrigerator. “Gosh, I’m starved! I’m going to make myself a sandwich. You hungry?”

  “Not really,” Jessica said as she popped the rest of the banana into her mouth, leaving the peel on the table. She watched as Elizabeth took a big piece of cheese out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter.

  The two girls could have been mirror images, except that Jessica’s hair swung loose around her shoulders while Elizabeth’s was pulled back in a practical ponytail. And Elizabeth’s neatly tailored corduroy skirt was a lot less likely to bring traffic to a screeching halt than Jessica’s skintight jeans and flimsy camisole top.

  “Liz, did you see Steve on your way in?” Jessica demanded as her sister spread mustard on a slice of bread. “He looks awful,” she went on, without waiting for an answer. “I wonder if Tricia finally dumped him.”

  Jessica thrived on real-life soap operas—especially those in which she played a starring role. However, a crisis involving their adored older brother came in a close second.

  “I always said Steve was too good for her, didn’t I?” she continued. “I always said she’d turn out to be nothing but trouble—just like that whole grungy family of hers. I guess this just proves I’m right.”

  Elizabeth turned to give her sister a sharp look. “Our poor brother is dragging around with a broken heart, and all you can think about is being right. Don’t you care about Steve?”

  “Of course I do!” Jessica flared. “I was thinking of Steve. If he’d listened to me, he never would have gotten so involved with Tricia in the first place. He should have broken off with her months ago.”

  “I think you’ve got things mixed up,” Elizabeth said sternly. “Steve doesn’t want to break up with her. He’s madly in love with Tricia.”

  “Ugh! How could he be? Talk about humiliating! The Martins are just about the worst family in Sweet Valley. How could our own brother want to be seen with one of them?” Jessica jumped up to face Elizabeth across the kitchen counter.

  “Tricia’s nice,” Elizabeth protested, meeting her sister’s gaze. “She’s not like the rest of her family.”

  “If she’s so nice, why’s she giving Steve the cold shoulder?” Jessica walked over to the counter and snatched a piece of the cheese Elizabeth had been slicing.

  Elizabeth sighed. There was no denying Tricia had been acting coldly toward Steve, Elizabeth thought. She’d broken two dates, and according to Steven, she’d acted vague and uninterested when they were together. It was strange because Tricia had always been so devoted to him in the past.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with Tricia,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe she’s having some kind of trouble at home. Something she’s too embarrassed to tell Steve.”

  “I can’t see what could be more embarrassing than what he already knows. I mean, everybody knows her father’s a drunk, for goodness’ sake. And her sister! Betsy’ll probably end up either pregnant or in jail in another year or
so. Maybe both.”

  “Come on, Jess, give Tricia a break. Her family’s problems aren’t her fault.”

  “Why does she have to go around defending them all the time then? Honestly, she’s so forgiving it makes me want to throw up!”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of family loyalty?” Elizabeth asked pointedly.

  Jessica sniffed. “All I know is I could use a little of it myself. It seems like every time I try to do somebody a favor around here, I practically get my head bitten off. Last week I merely suggested to Steve that Tricia might be interested in another guy, and he looked at me like I’d just thrown a hand grenade at him.”

  “Some favor,” Elizabeth muttered. She put her sandwich on a plate and carried it over to the table.

  Jessica tagged after her, sitting down in the chair next to her. “OK, so what’s the latest? Do you know why Steve looks so lousy? What gives?”

  Elizabeth took a big bite of her sandwich. “He didn’t tell me. But I heard him on the phone asking for Tricia when I walked in. I guess she wasn’t home, because he hung up.”

  “She stood him up, I’ll bet. She’d probably rather be off at some wild party than spending time with someone whose biggest interest is college. She’s just like Betsy.”

  “What’s Betsy got to do with it?” As far as Elizabeth could see, Tricia wasn’t anything like her older sister, who had one of the worst reputations in town.

  “Well, you know how it is, they’re sisters—and sisters have lots of things in common,” Jessica finished lamely.

  Elizabeth laughed. “For my sake, I hope that’s not true—or I’m in real trouble!”

  “See what I mean?” Jessica sulked. “Nobody around here appreciates me. Someday when I’m rich and famous, you’ll be sorry you weren’t nicer.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “We love you, dummy—isn’t that enough? Anyway, to show you how much I appreciate you, here—you can have the rest of my sandwich.”

  Jessica glared at the crust on Elizabeth’s plate. “Gee, thanks a lot. I’m overwhelmed by your generosity.”

  “What did you expect? A check for a million dollars?”

  Jessica looked thoughtful. “That wouldn’t be bad—for starters. Actually, I was thinking maybe you could lend me your red shoes for tonight. I’m going out with Aaron Dallas and—”

  Elizabeth didn’t let her finish. “Absolutely, positively no. The last time you borrowed them, you broke a strap, and it cost me six dollars to get it fixed. You never did pay me back.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. I was planning to pay you back. Every cent. Didn’t I promise?”

  “Yeah, six months ago.”

  “OK, so this time I promise I’ll pay you back with interest. Now can I borrow them?”

  Elizabeth refused to budge. “Sorry, Jess.”

  “In that case, I guess I’ll just have to go barefoot. I’ll probably end up stepping on a piece of broken glass and bleeding to death, and it’ll be all your fault.” Jessica rose from her chair with a wounded expression. “If you can live with that on your conscience…”

  Elizabeth burst into uncontrollable giggles. “I give. A performance like that deserves some reward. Honestly, Jess, Hollywood just doesn’t know what it’s missing. You could probably win an Academy Award.”

  “And when I do, I’ll be sure to thank my sweet, generous sister for having the same size feet as me.” Jessica laughed and leaned over to give her twin a playful punch on the arm.

  Later that evening, Elizabeth was getting ready for her date with Todd Wilkins, her boyfriend and the handsome star of the Sweet Valley High basketball team. She imagined his warm brown eyes, his lopsided grin. She smiled as she slipped a navy T-shirt dress over her head. After all this time, the thought of Todd still made her tingle. She barely noticed when Jessica waltzed into her room and began digging around in her closet, looking for the red shoes.

  “Steve hardly said two words at dinner. This thing with Tricia is really getting out of hand. Somebody should do something.”

  Elizabeth shot her sister a warning look. “Keep out of it, Jess. If Steve wants our advice, he’ll ask for it.”

  As if on cue, their older brother walked in through the open door. “Has either of you seen my car keys?”

  At six feet plus, Steven towered over his sisters, but aside from the healthy outdoor look they all shared, he didn’t resemble them in the least. With his rangy, athletic build, wavy, brown hair, and dark eyes he was an eighteen-year-old version of their father.

  “Got a date, Steve?” Jessica piped up.

  “I thought I’d drive over and see Tricia. She wasn’t home when I called, but she should be back by now.”

  “Didn’t you tell her you were coming home for the weekend?” Jessica asked.

  Steven frowned. “She knows I come home almost every weekend. I’ve never had to make a big thing of telling her.”

  “Oh, I see.” Jessica picked up Elizabeth’s brush and began guiding it through her hair with studied casualness. “Maybe you’re giving her the impression that you can take her for granted. You know, you just expect her to be there for you.”

  “It’s not like that with Trish and me,” Steven protested. “We love each other.”

  “Well, you did say she’s been acting sort of standoffish lately.”

  Elizabeth jumped in to the rescue. “Maybe she’s distracted by something at home,” she suggested, shooting her sister a pointed look.

  Jessica yawned. “So what’s new about that?”

  Wearing a worried expression, Steven slumped down on the bed. “If something is wrong, she won’t tell me what it is.” He stared down at his hands in helpless frustration. “I’d give anything to know why she’s been acting this way.”

  “Maybe she’s the one who’s taking you for granted,” Jessica said, deftly changing tack. “She knows she’s got you, so why bother working at it?”

  “Tricia’s not like that. You don’t know her like I do.”

  “If you know her so well, then I don’t see what the problem is. I thought people who were that close could talk to each other about anything.”

  Obviously Steven had thought so, too. The possibility that he might have misjudged the depth of Tricia’s love was more than a little disturbing.

  “I guess she’ll tell me what’s wrong when she’s ready,” he said, not sounding too hopeful.

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s not a what,” she suggested slyly. “Maybe it’s a who.”

  Steven glowered at her. “Look, Jess, if you’re going to start that business about Tricia sneaking around behind my back with some other guy, I don’t want to hear it. She wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  Jessica flashed him a knowing smile. “Whater you say, big brother.”

  “If there were some other guy, I’d know it, wouldn’t I? People would have seen them around together.”

  “Of course, you’re probably right,” Jessica agreed.

  “It’s a small town. You couldn’t hide something like that forever.”

  “But, Steve,” she said sweetly, “I thought you said Tricia wasn’t the type?”

  Steven flushed a dark red Elizabeth glared at her sister, then went over and put her arm around Steven’s shoulders. She couldn’t bear seeing her brother in so much misery.

  “It’s silly to jump to conclusions,” Elizabeth said. “And I agree with you, Steve. Tricia’s not the type to fool around behind your back. Besides, why would she even want someone else? You’re the one she loves.”

  Steven’s frown deepened. “I always thought that, too. But right now I’m not so sure. Something’s changed. I don’t know what, but I’m going to find out.” He stood up, his jaw set at a determined angle. “Tonight.”

  Two

  It was only a few miles from the Wakefields’ comfortable split-level ranch house in a beautiful green area of Sweet Valley to the poorer section of town where the Martins lived, but as far as Steven was concerned, it was a c
ompletely different world. His headlights picked up the gleam of discarded cans and broken glass that littered the weeds alongside the uneven road. He pulled to a stop in front of a shabby frame house with peeling paint. Tricia’s house. As always, he experienced a pang at the thought. Sweet, lovely Tricia deserved much better than this, though he had never once heard her complain about it.

  Steven’s chest was heavy with apprehension as he waited by the front door for his knock to be answered. Would she be home? Would she want to see him? When he had called, her father had said he didn’t know where she was or when she would be back. Strange. Tricia knew he was coming home for the weekend. He always called her Friday afternoon when he got in—and she always answered the phone on the first or second ring, her voice slightly breathless, as if she’d had to run to catch it. Then she gave that happy, eager laugh when she heard him say hello. At least that was the way it used to be. Lately …

  The door shrieked open on rusted hinges. A man stood swaying in the blue-gray light that flickered from an old TV set. He wore a stained undershirt tucked into baggy old pants, and he smelled strongly of liquor. Steven cringed, even while he arranged his face into a friendly smile.

  “Hi, Mr. Martin. Is Tricia home?”

  Tricia’s father blinked, as if trying to bring Steven into focus. “Yuh, she’s here,” he slurred, “but she can’t see you. She’s busy. Sorry, Steve.”

  Steven felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Where is she?” he asked. “I have to talk to her.”

  “She’s in her room, but she said if you came by to tell you—”

  Steven didn’t wait to hear the rest. Angrily, he brushed past Mr. Martin, heading straight for Tricia’s room. The door was closed, but he didn’t bother to knock. Tricia looked up with wide, startled eyes as he strode in.

  At the sight of her, Steven’s heart caught, and the anger drained out of him. She was so beautiful, with her delicate features, creamy skin, and strawberry-blond hair. She reminded him of a porcelain doll. Yet there was nothing doll-like about the way her brilliant blue eyes leaped with fire or the quick, light grace of her movements.