Dear Sister Page 6

  “Hey, that’s hard.”

  “If only I didn’t have that terrible, long history term paper on the Punic Wars, maybe I could do the rest,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yeah, that was a tough one,” agreed Winston.

  “I heard you got an A-plus.”

  “Yep,” said Winston. “Took me two weeks every night. Actually, the wars between Ancient Rome and Carthage are fascinating.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’ll bet,” she said, and unleashed another painful sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll just flunk, that’s all.”

  “Listen, you could do a great paper, Liz. I know you could.”

  “Sure. If I had the time. But I have so much other work. And I get such horrible headaches. The accident, you know?” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Listen, I kept a copy of mine.”

  “Really?”

  “If it would help, you could look it over and get my sources. That would cut down on the time.”

  “Maybe if I just … changed it around some?”

  “I thought you liked Roman history.”

  “Oh, I do. But I don’t want to have a relapse.”

  Winston brought Elizabeth his term paper that afternoon in the Oracle office. She later turned it in as her own after rewriting a few sentences and paragraphs.

  Roger Collins waited until Winston had left, and then he strolled over to Elizabeth’s desk. “Hey, Brenda Starr,” he said. “Want to talk?”

  “Hi, Mr. Collins,” she said brightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Not what’s up. What’s in—or not in. Such as your ‘Eyes and Ears’ column for this edition.”

  “I’m just going to write it.”

  “OK. How’s everything else?”

  “Everybody asks me that,” she snapped.

  “Elizabeth, I hope you know that I’m a friend, not only a teacher and an adviser. And friends don’t dish out a lot of applesauce to each other.”

  “Now what have I done?” Elizabeth asked, sounding hurt.

  Mr. Collins let out a breath. “Elizabeth, you know you have to keep your grades up if you want to stay on The Oracle. I’ve been informed you’re in danger of failing three courses.”

  “Well, none of that’s fair,” said Elizabeth. “I had a little work to make up because of the accident—which wasn’t my fault. I needed some time to do it. And I have a term paper I’m just about ready to hand in.” She smiled, patting her bag, which held Winston’s paper.

  “And that’s all?” Mr. Collins said.

  “I promise you,” she said.

  “OK, but please remember I’m here if you need help.”

  “Oh, I’ll remember,” she said.

  Elizabeth turned to writing her column, dropping in little items about who was seeing whom, which romance was flourishing and which one was at its last gasp.

  Suddenly she smiled.

  “Who is that tall, dark, and handsome stranger Susan Stewart has been dating lately, and does K.M. know about it?” she wrote. “It would be a shame to see this flame flicker out.”

  “All finished?” Roger Collins said when she handed the column in.

  She smiled. “It’s finished, all right.”

  Eight

  Todd stalked into the gym for basketball practice feeling frustrated and angry. There was no longer any doubt about it. Elizabeth was through with him. She hardly paid any attention to him, even when he was speaking directly to her, and she was making plays for every guy at Sweet Valley High. They weren’t exactly running away from her, either.

  OK, then! Who needed Elizabeth Wakefield? He did, Todd knew without a doubt. He knew he couldn’t blame her for hating him. How could she help but hate him after what he had done to her? He couldn’t even blame her if she turned to someone else. But that’s what bothered him most. Elizabeth hadn’t turned to someone else. She had turned to everyone else, all at the same time. It didn’t make sense.

  Todd stepped up to the foul line to practice his free throws and missed four in a row. He cursed and bounced the ball roughly into the corner.

  Everybody had told Todd how lucky he was to have come out of the motorcycle crash without serious injuries. It was a miracle, Coach Horner said, that his hands hadn’t been hurt at all. So after the accident Todd continued to be old reliable at the foul line for the basketball team. “Whizzer” Wilkins they called him, for his sure shooting eye and control under pressure. That’s why he was the star of the team.

  Nobody noticed anything until the game against Big Mesa, when Todd couldn’t hit a basket to save his life.

  Elizabeth was there, sitting next to Ken Matthews. Susan Stewart had gotten stuck babysitting for her little brother, so she wasn’t there to keep an eye on them. But Todd held an all too watchful gaze, especially when he should have been looking at the basketball.

  It was awful. Todd couldn’t pass the ball or catch or shoot it.

  “Come on, Wilkins,” Coach Horner yelled in bewilderment. “Look alive out there.”

  But it was hopeless. Todd Wilkins, the star of the team, was falling all over his feet like a champion klutz. His eyes were glued on Elizabeth, and after a while even the Big Mesa players noticed it.

  On a jump ball in the second half, the Big Mesa center lined up next to Todd and whispered, “Hey, Wilkins, got girl trouble?”

  Todd was so shaken he stood there flat-footed while the Big Mesa center grabbed the ball and scored.

  “Wilkins,” shouted Coach Horner, “are you OK?”

  “Sure, coach.”

  But he wasn’t. The game went down the drain in the second half. The Gladiators’ whole attack was built around Todd, and when he came apart, so did the team. A strange buzz started after a while, and then it got louder and louder.

  Finally, when Todd missed an easy lay-up, the buzzing exploded into a sound he had never heard before while playing at home in the Sweet Valley High gym.

  “Booooooo!”

  Todd heard it and stopped dead.

  “Booooooooo!”

  Todd Wilkins was being booed by his own fans. He tried to shake it off, and as he turned to head back up the court, he bumped into the Big Mesa center.

  “Boooooooo!” screamed the fans, and the Big Mesa center smiled.

  “Hey, Wilkins,” he said, laughing, “they’re playing your song!”

  Todd saw red lights zigzagging in front of him. He saw the laughing Big Mesa player, and suddenly Todd was shoving the hulking center, who was shoving back just as hard. They tussled with each other, almost coming to blows, before the referee came between them.

  “You!” he shouted at Todd. “You’re out of this game!”

  Stunned, Todd trotted back to the Gladiators’ bench and sat down with a towel over his head. The boos were louder than ever.

  “Sorry, Coach,” Todd managed softly.

  * * *

  Coach Horner was a father figure to his boys. Everyone knew how much he cared about them. So after the fateful game against Big Mesa, he sent Todd to an early shower and called the team together. “OK,” he said briskly, “what’s eating Wilkins?” Coach Horner always sounded tough, but the team knew it was just on the surface. Underneath, he was a softy.

  “Elizabeth Wakefield,” said Jim Daly.

  “Is she his girlfriend or something?”

  “Yeah, the twin. The one who got hurt,” Jim said.

  “She was riding on Todd’s motorcycle when it happened, Coach,” said Tom Hackett, the guard.

  “Uh-huh,” said Coach Horner, rubbing his chin. “Is she OK?”

  The players all looked away.

  “Hey, that was a question! We’ve got a teammate in trouble here!”

  “Todd worries about Liz all the time,” said Jim. “She’s all he thinks about.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Coach, Liz Wakefield used to be just about the nicest girl in the whole school. But after that accident, I don’t know. She’s different.”

  “I see,” said Coach
Horner thoughtfully. “I see.”

  He walked slowly back to his office, where he’d told Todd to wait for him. He opened the door and found his star player hunched miserably in a chair.

  “Hello, Todd,” he said, sitting down at his desk.

  “Hello, Coach.”

  “Todd, would you like to tell me what happened?” Coach Horner asked with concern.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You almost punched Lane out right in the middle of a game.”

  “It’s all a blur.”

  “Todd, I believe in giving my players a fair shake, but you’ve got to help me. What happened?”

  Todd shook his head.

  “One of the other players said something about a girl,” Coach Horner said gently. “Does she have anything to do with this?”

  Todd grabbed his head with both hands, trying to keep the coach’s words out.

  “There are some problems you can’t walk away from,” Coach Horner said. “Some things just won’t let you alone.”

  “I know, Coach,” Todd said softly. Oh, did he know.

  “You’re going to have to sit out a few games, Todd.”

  “I know.”

  “I want you to use that time to get this thing that’s troubling you settled. Whatever it is, you can’t run away from it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From what I hear, Elizabeth’s a fine girl. But I think she has problems right now.”

  Todd Wilkins looked at the coach for the first time. “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do, Todd. You acted very out of character, and that’s why I knew something was very wrong. If that girl is acting out of character, something’s got to be wrong there, too.”

  Todd smiled weakly as he stood up to leave. He strode down the corridor from the gym. It had been awful, hearing Coach Horner talk about Elizabeth that way. And yet it was a relief. What an idiot I’ve been, he thought. Of course she’s in trouble. That person walking around acting different—that’s not my Liz!

  Todd knew he had been a fool not to persist in getting through to her. Obviously, nobody was doing anything. Everybody had simply accepted the idea that Elizabeth had undergone a permanent personality change. It just couldn’t be.

  “Something’s got to be wrong,” Coach Horner had said. Todd knew he had to get to the bottom of it.

  * * *

  Jessica Wakefield was at her wit’s end. Everybody treated her like Elizabeth—the old Elizabeth, that is. The responsible one. The one you took your troubles to. The one you went to if you wanted to complain about her sister.

  “Listen,” Lila Fowler told Jessica in the front corridor, “you tell Elizabeth to keep away from my boyfriend.”

  “What?” said a not too surprised Jessica.

  “Don’t act innocent with me,” Lila said. “Your dear sister seems to think she can date Tim behind my back. Tell her hands off.”

  Later, Jessica heard through Cara Walker that Susan Stewart was furious about Elizabeth trying to steal Ken Matthews.

  Enid Rollins was just about the last straw. “You know I’ve always considered Liz to be my best friend.”

  “Try to understand, Enid—”

  “I have tried, Jess, but I’ve about had it with her,” Enid told her. “It was your idea that I meet you at the Dairi Burger. Well, after you left, she made a play for George right under my nose!”

  I’m going to have a nervous breakdown, Jessica thought. All I ever do is worry about Liz.

  And when she wasn’t worrying about Elizabeth or trying to find her, she was stuck with all of her sister’s work, plus caring for the Percy twins. Things were getting to be a real drag.

  One part of Jessica was determined to turn the whole miserable mess over to her parents, but another part of her refused to do that. Her parents hadn’t caused the problem, she had. She’d gotten Elizabeth into the accident by selfishly leaving Enid’s party without her, and worse, she had been the model for Elizabeth’s miserable behavior. She was right to keep her worries about Elizabeth from her parents, she was sure. The part of Jessica that was closer to her twin sister than any other person wouldn’t let her turn this problem over to anyone else.

  Jessica would have been appalled if she could have heard the conversation going on just then between Elizabeth and Roger Collins in the Oracle office.

  “Elizabeth,” said Mr. Collins, “I don’t want to believe what I’ve been told. Is it true that you used your column to try to steal Susan Stewart’s boyfriend?”

  “What?” asked Elizabeth, her eyes widening into a perfect picture of innocence.

  “That’s what I’ve been told,” he said. “And here’s the item.”

  He laid the column in front of her. The item about Susan Stewart and “K.M.” was outlined in red.

  “Why should everybody else have fun because of my column, and not me?” she pouted.

  “Then it’s true?”

  “Well … I wrote the item. I really can’t help it if Ken Matthews likes me, can I?”

  “That’s not the point, Elizabeth, and you know it. It’s about something called ethics. Something called integrity. You used to understand those words. Not only did you write a self-serving item, but it’s not even true. Is it?”

  Elizabeth squirmed in her seat.

  “Is it true?”

  “I don’t know every guy Susan runs around with.”

  “Uh-huh. I thought you and I were never going to dish each other applesauce.”

  Elizabeth began to cry. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Collins! It’s terrible and mean of you to say I did.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, truly I am. I hope you can get yourself straightened out. I know you’re in trouble with your grades, too.”

  “I explained that.”

  “Yes, you did. But until you can explain why you used your column to slander somebody with an item you knew was a lie, I’m afraid I’m going to have to do without you on The Oracle.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re firing me?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Elizabeth stood up. She glared at him, then tossed her head. “Who cares?” she said. “I thought you were my friend, but I can see I was wrong.”

  “I am your friend, Elizabeth. You’re a fine writer, and I want to help you. I hope whatever is wrong can be cleared up. Until then—”

  “Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to come back,” Elizabeth said haughtily, and sailed out the door.

  * * *

  When Elizabeth got home that afternoon, she saw a white-faced Jessica sitting ramrod straight at the kitchen table with their mother and father, all of them looking as grim as the Supreme Court.

  “What’s up?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Elizabeth, I hardly know what to say to you.” Her mother’s voice was filled with disappointment. “I never thought a daughter of ours would use another person’s term paper and turn it in as her own.”

  “What?” said Elizabeth, a bright pink flush coloring her face and neck.

  “Mrs. Green, your guidance counselor, called us,” her father said. “She’s very worried about you.”

  “We’re all worried about you,” said Alice Wakefield. Then she turned to Jessica.

  “Jessica, why didn’t you tell us what was going on? You must have known.”

  “But I didn’t!” Jessica cried. At least not about the paper, she wanted to tell them. And the other stuff … well, she hadn’t wanted to worry them. She had thought she could handle it on her own, somehow.

  Jessica Wakefield felt the world crashing down on her head.

  Nine

  “Jessica, are you going to drive us to the flute auditions on Saturday?”

  The voice startled Jessica. She whirled around, mascara wand in her hand, to see Jean—or was it Joan?—standing in her doorway.

  “Did you ever hear of knocking?” she snapped. “It has to do with a little thing called privacy! The whol
e world has been picking on me, but I thought I was safe in my own room!” She turned back to the mirror.

  “You thought you could come in here and make my life miserable, didn’t you? You and everyone else in Sweet Valley.” Her parents, Todd, and nearly all the girls in school were after her to do something about Elizabeth’s behavior, and she had no idea of how to cope with it.

  When she looked back toward the doorway, it was empty. Great, she thought, just great. Now she guessed she was supposed to feel guilty about being nasty to the twin on top of everything else. Jessica felt that if she didn’t talk to somebody sympathetic pretty soon, she would fall apart.

  After school that afternoon, she stood in the hall outside the Oracle office, hoping Mr. Collins wasn’t busy. She knew Elizabeth had gone to him with problems in the past, and since this was a problem about Elizabeth … well, why not?

  She pushed the door open and was relieved to see Roger Collins alone in the room. He looked up and smiled at her.

  “Liz, I’m glad you stopped by. I felt—”

  “Mr. Collins, I’m sorry, but I’m not Liz.”

  “Jessica? Hey, forgive me. I keep mixing the two of you up these days,” he said, moving from his chair to sit on the edge of the desk.

  “I’m the one with the worry lines,” she said, slumping into a chair.

  “And your worries are about your sister, right?”

  “Thank goodness you know what I’m talking about, Mr. Collins!” Finally, Jessica felt she had an adult ally. No wonder Elizabeth came to him with problems.

  “I can’t reinstate her on The Oracle, Jessica, not after what she did.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” she said, on the verge of tears.

  “Jessica, how can I help?”

  “I don’t know!” she wailed, unable to hold back the tears. Covering her face with her hands, she began sobbing.

  Roger Collins put a comforting arm around Jessica’s shoulders, letting her enjoy the release of crying for a few minutes. Then he put a crisp white handkerchief in her hand, patted her shoulder gently, and asked, “Feeling better?”

  Sniffling as she dried her tears, Jessica nodded.