Sweet Valley Confidential: Ten Years Later (4 page)

Just like when I do her another great favor way back when we’re sixteen and Todd calls for the first time and asks for her. Well, he doesn’t exactly ask for her, it’s more like a guess
.

“Elizabeth?”

“Liz is in the shower.”

I don’t know why I do that since I never was particularly interested in Todd Wilkins, but he sounds really sexy on the phone, and I’m thinking maybe I should give him a chance. Especially now with the Phi Epsilon dance coming up.

I have three invitations already, but not one is even a remote possibility. Winston Egbert. That’s all I need: to be stuck with someone named Winston Egbert who actually looks like a Winston Egbert. And two other nonentities I just said no to without bothering to make up an excuse. What were they thinking?

“This is her sister, Jessica.” Like there’s no one in Sweet Valley who doesn’t know “the twins.”

I can hear his frustration, so I jump in. “Can I help you?”

I can practically read his mind. He’s thinking, They’re identical twins, so how different can she be from her sister?

“I don’t know.…”

I can tell he’s stuck. So I help him out and say, “I have to go. We’re finding out whether we were picked to be Pi Beta Alpha pledges today.”

“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble, but good luck anyway.”

I’m actually doing Liz a favor. Everyone knows she would never go out with a jock. Why put her through actually having to say no, which is always especially difficult for her? Besides, I’m doing him a favor, too—saving him the pain of rejection.

I’m good at convincing myself, and since it’s me telling me, I believe it right away. Rejection is very painful. So I hear.

Even without rejection, life is harder for me. I always have to spend a lot of time planning, which might look like manipulation, but I can’t leave anything to chance. If I did, I would have nothing. Like this morning, with Todd. If I hadn’t moved things around a little, I wouldn’t have a chance of going with him to the Phi Epsilon dance.

And it isn’t like I was taking anything away from Elizabeth. I know her better than anyone else does, and she so doesn’t care about things like that.

Elizabeth has always had everything under control. Without being conceited, I know I’m pretty but not nearly as gorgeous as Elizabeth, who like never has to do anything to look absolutely flawless. Oh, sure, she has to comb her hair and do the ordinary things, but that’s it. I’m stuck blow-drying forever, straightening endlessly, and spending most of my allowance on makeup and creams. Still, I so never feel like I come near my sister.

It’s like unfair to have to compare yourself constantly to someone so perfect and always come in second. Outside of twins that just doesn’t happen.

I so truly hate being in second place all the time. It’s not something I could tell Elizabeth because I know her, she’s so caring and sensitive, especially about me, that she would feel guilty. So even though I know that sometimes I probably come off looking self-centered, I don’t defend myself.

But this is the way it has to be as long as I have that kind of competition in my life, which, of course, will be forever.

No matter what, even if I am always stuck being second, I love my sister more than I love anyone else in the world. It’s a love I never fell into; a love I was simply born with, like it was fused to my DNA.

This phone call fiasco happens the week after I had this little accident with the car, a so-nothing dent, but my parents go berserk and say I can’t drive for a month, which is like practically forever if you live in California, where there’s nothing that isn’t at least a car ride away, so I’m stuck having Elizabeth drive me to school today. And because she’s the driver, she can pick up the Wuss of the World, Enid Rollins, a girl I totally hate. It’s like she thinks she owns Elizabeth.

Lucky for me, Bruce Patman pulls up alongside in his Porsche and saves me from more wuss stories about some creep she’s crazy about. Caroline Pearce already filled me in. Bor-ring … But as soon as I get in Bruce’s car he starts with, “So, who’s your sister going to the dance with?”

My head actually snaps around to take a hard look at Bruce. He’s the same great-looking guy as ever, all perfect black hair and dark blue eyes. Maybe I’m missing something about Elizabeth. Did something happen in the middle of the night, some magic-wand stuff that suddenly made Elizabeth so desirable?

This is the second guy today asking about Elizabeth. Why is everyone suddenly so interested in my sister? Lizzie is the same old Lizzie: serious and sensible, reliable and comfortable, sort of like nurses’ shoes. Definitely not hot. So what’s going on?

And then it comes to me. They must be confusing Elizabeth with me. People do that all the time, get our names mixed up. They know who they want but simply have the names switched.

“I don’t know. She has, like, a million invites,” I tell him.

“Like who?”

“Mostly older college guys. Why?”

“Just curious.”

Then he drops it. College guys are too much competition for a high school junior, even Bruce Patman. It’s working, so I do a kind of riff on what I did with Todd earlier, insinuating how busy Elizabeth is.

“Just drop me on the next corner. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Whatever,” Bruce says, and pulls the car up to the curb. I can see he’s ticked off, but so what. Obviously, he’s not going to ask me to the dance, and that’s where I am right now.

Sometimes I feel like people don’t really understand me. To bottom-feeders like Winston, I might look like I’m selfish or even a little conceited, but that’s just on the surface. I have to look that way because I can’t let anyone know that inside, where it really counts, I’m vulnerable and insecure and total mush, always worrying that I’m doing the wrong thing or sounding dumb. It’s so unlike Liz, who never seems to doubt anything and always knows exactly what to say and do.

Elizabeth is like those people who never have to study for a test—they just know it all—whereas things don’t come as easily to me. I have to work at anything I want. And yeah, I want a lot, which is why I can never rely on things coming naturally.

Just thinking back about those early days and the awful things she did to Elizabeth made Jessica squirm. Why were all her worst times with Elizabeth always connected to Todd? Jessica knew Elizabeth thought she was going out with Todd that night, and she just let her.

How could she be so cruel? Well, it was a choice, Elizabeth or her. And sadly to say, in pure Jessica sound and form, there was like
so
no choice.

In truth, she was sneaking out with Rick Andover, a true piece of garbage her parents would never let her date, which was why she had to pretend it was Todd. She’d always had this fascination with danger. And Rick was danger.

Not telling Elizabeth the truth afterward—that she wasn’t really with Todd—was the meanest part, but she felt as if she’d suffered enough from her mistake with Rick, who turned out to be
really
dangerous. He wouldn’t let her go home. It was truly frightening, a horrendous night with a bar fight and the police and Caroline Pearce catching her when they dropped her off in a patrol car, that she went easy on herself. It was actually all a lot of nothing anyway, but it did cause trouble and endanger her position as captain of the cheering squad. Besides, she made up for it by not making a fuss when Elizabeth started dating Todd even though Jessica had gone wih him to the Phi Epsilon dance. And it did make Elizabeth very happy. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her sister so excited about a boy. She felt that she had made Elizabeth so happy that she was able to forgive herself completely.

And even added another proud moment by not taking credit for fixing everything.

As if that made it all right.

Nothing would ever be right with Elizabeth again.

Todd interrupted her misery. “Come on, Jess, I’m not saying it wasn’t horrendous what we did, it was a terrible betrayal that we’ll have to live with. Nothing is going to change that. So what should we do now? Break up?”

This was the point they always got to, over and over and over again: how to punish themselves for what they’d done. And the worst pain they could think of was to break up. That’s where the conversation always stopped.

“I never want to lose you,” Jessica said.

“You won’t,” he said.

But Jessica worried.

*   *   *

Ultimately, Todd talked her into going to Lila’s party; if they continued to hide from everyone, he told her, they might as well move away. The idea of being driven out of Sweet Valley, even if they themselves were party to it, was off the boards for Jessica, and so she agreed to go.

But with great trepidation.

For the ten minutes it took to drive over to Lila’s house, she sat silently in the car. Actually, it was Lila and Ken’s house, but they were separated and working on a divorce. Except he was there most of the time. Even Caroline had trouble explaining that. But Jessica said Ken just loved Lila, no matter what. Some people are like that.

“Hey, Jess.” Todd reached out and took her hand. “I’m here. I’m always here.”

Jessica squeezed his hand and smiled, but she said nothing.

Until they got to the house, and then miraculously, she turned back into Jessica the adorable.

Lila Fowler was no different than she had been in high school. Still the same light brown wavy hair—only now it was ironed flat and streaked blond—hazel brown eyes, a perfect little figure, and just as rich and snobby as ever. Lila had never really changed, never grown, and now all she had left was her old cheerleader uniform. She’d done nothing with her life so far other than drop out of college in her third year. She’d spent a few months trying to get work as a model, but when the agencies didn’t scoop her up immediately, she gave up and went back to plying her natural talent as a shopper and a flirt. It was like the good old days, and Elizabeth said it made her feel popular, just like in high school.

Lila, her perfect body delectable in the shortest shorts possible and a salmon-colored silk halter top loose enough to slide lightly over her just right, slightly augmented, perky braless breasts, answered the door with shrieks of delight and surprise. Surprise mostly because they were there at all. Unbeknownst to Todd, Jessica had called in the afternoon with some preparatory excuses in advance of the not being able to come one.

“They’re here!” she called behind her, as if they were the special guests everyone was waiting for. Which, of course, they were. That’s the way it was anytime they went anywhere in Sweet Valley. Here come the freaks, as Jessica liked to describe Todd and herself.

And pulling Jessica along, with Todd following, Lila took them through the magnificent two-story entrance foyer into the living room, a stunningly decorated room with good antiques, all done in monochromatic beige with occasional blasts of black lacquer.

And there they were, sitting and standing, Sweet Valley at its most successful. Lila’s almost ex-husband, Ken Matthews, was playing host. Still the NFL star, as handsome as any football quarterback should be, he was truly happy to see them and not because of any gossip thing, just because he really liked his old friends whom he, like the rest of Sweet Valley, saw little of lately.

Caroline Pearce, Sweet Valley’s most successful real estate broker, a cancer survivor, and still gossip supreme, looked at Jessica like a ravenous raccoon with the good luck to spot a newborn kitten. She wasn’t drooling, but she did lick her lips a couple of times before she charged in for the big hug. She was the Perez Hilton of Sweet Valley.