"I won't. 'Bye!"

  Within moments Jessica was out the door and in the driver's seat of the Fiat. She couldn't wait to see Lila and show her the letters Elizabeth had placed on her bed that afternoon.

  Lila lived in the most exclusive area of town—on the hill overlooking Sweet Valley, as did Bruce Patman's family and Regina Morrow's. As Jessica drove up the winding road, she passed stately mansions, separated from each other by discreet hedges and wide, manicured lawns. Here and there she glimpsed a swimming pool set amid landscaped grounds. Soon the gates of Fowler Crest came into view, and Jessica turned the convertible's nose up the long sweep of a driveway.

  Lila met her at the door with a quizzical smile. "So what's the emergency meeting all about?"

  Unconsciously Jessica's hand went to her shoulder bag, as if checking that the seven precious letters were still there. She smiled gleefully.

  "I wanted you to help me go through my first batch of admirers," she said as she followed Lila up the grand staircase of the Spanish-style villa. She added sweetly, "I'm sure you'll start getting yours soon."

  Lila led the way into her bedroom and shut the door behind Jessica. "Well, let's see them."

  The two girls threw themselves down onto Lila's luxurious queen-sized bed and tore open the envelopes. Several minutes went by in silence; they exchanged letters without speaking until each of them had read every one.

  Jessica ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. "So, what do you think?"

  "Oh, I don't know," Lila drawled. She rolled off the bed and strolled to her cluttered vanity table. With slow, deliberate strokes, she pulled her brush through her silky, light brown hair. Finally she shrugged. "They're OK, I guess."

  "OK?" Jessica shrieked, her indignation rising. She grabbed what she thought was the most promising letter, strode to her friend's side, and began reading aloud.

  Dear Miss Excitement:

  I'm no stranger to boasting, but I get the feeling you know how to put your money where your mouth is. You definitely sound like dynamite about to go off, and I want to be there for the explosion, even if it means getting a little singed. The girls I've met at college are nothing compared with someone like you.

  I like slow dancing and romantic dinners. And I like dessert, too. . . .

  Drop me a line. I think we should get together, mi amore.

  Jessica regarded Lila's reflection in the mirror. "Doesn't that just give you goose bumps?" she demanded.

  Lila shrugged again, infuriating Jessica even further. Lila acted so superior sometimes.

  "Maybe it gives you goose bumps," Lila said, "but it gives me a rash! He sounds way too conceited to me."

  "Conceited? Lila, for your information this guy is obviously incredibly sexy and sophisticated. He's not some shy little dork, you know."

  Lila's answer was to pick up her hairbrush again.

  "And you did notice that he speaks Italian, didn't you?"

  "Jessica, anybody could learn two words of Italian. Give me a break."

  Jessica turned away and flopped back onto the bed. She reread the letter yet again. The unmistakable promise in the word "dessert" sent a thrill of anticipation running up and down her spine.

  As she pulled a pad of paper toward her, she said over her shoulder, "I'm writing back to him. And just you wait. If I date this guy, it's going to turn out to be the biggest romance of the century."

  A week later Kirk Anderson sauntered out to the tennis courts after school, a huge grin on his face. He stood by the benches and nodded at Michael Harris, who left off making practice serves and jogged over to him. In another minute Neil Freemount walked up, and then they were joined by Chad Ticknor and Ron Reese.

  "The ever-charming Jamie has another letter from the mystery girl," Kirk announced, drawing an envelope from his pocket with a dramatic flourish.

  Michael grinned. "She's getting pretty devoted, huh? What's that, the third letter so far?"

  "Go on, Kirk," said Ron. "Read it."

  But Kirk held up one hand in a self-effacing gesture. "No, I think Neil should have the honor. After all, he's the one who's been doing all the work, right Neil?"

  Neil felt a strange rush of pride and elation whenever Kirk singled him out like that. He knew Kirk was pretty obnoxious at times, but he also had a kind of charisma, a way of making a guy feel like part of a special, elite group. Although he had friends on the tennis team, he had never been part of a group. He was well liked but had always been regarded as somewhat of a loner. And Neil loved feeling as if he belonged.

  That was why, when Kirk decided they should all get together and answer that crazy personal ad, he was glad to do most of the writing. Besides, whoever the girl was, she struck Neil—struck all of them—as being really funny and clever. And when he sat down to answer her letters, he unconsciously responded with his own brand of wit. It was like a long, drawn-out game, and the other guys loved it.

  The only problem was, he was starting to wish he could write to this girl without his friends getting in on the act anymore. He couldn't figure out who in their school had placed the ad, but he really wanted to know. He was starting to feel as if it weren't a joke anymore, but couldn't bring himself to admit it to Kirk and the others.

  "Go on, Neil. Let's see what old Quasimodo has to say today." Kirk held out the letter, a look of challenge in his brilliant blue eyes.

  Neil took the envelope and returned Kirk's cynical smile, acting as nonchalant about it as he could. "Sure."

  The boys watched as he slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and drew out the folded stationery. A wave of frustration washed over him as he noticed their predatory, eager smiles, but he forced himself to ignore it and began reading aloud.

  Dear Jamie,

  You're right. Sweet Valley does sometimes remind me of something from a movie—a Walt Disney movie! Do you ever go to the beach and just watch people? They're like a bunch of extras for some kind of beach-blanket movie. But as Shakespeare said, 'All the world's a stage,' right? Only if he was alive now he'd probably say 'All the world's a Hollywood set.' That Bill Shakespeare called it like he saw it.

  But at the same time I love it here—I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. Do you feel that way, too? Except maybe I'd like living in a dark sixth-floor walk-up in some rundown section of New York City. Apparently every struggling writer is supposed to go through that kind of experience. Boy, doesn't that sound like fun? I guess as long as I could send out for pizza, I wouldn't mind.

  You'll think this sounds stupid, but sometimes I wish I could be everywhere at once. I guess it does sound dumb. But I want to see everything, travel, meet all kinds of people, really live. But knowing me, I'll probably just get it out of books. Maybe one day I'll surprise myself, though. I'm doing a pretty good job of surprising myself just by writing to you, so who knows?

  Write soon,

  Q.

  A chorus of laughter finished off Neil's reading of the letter, and Neil forced himself to smile. He knew they were laughing because parts of the letter were funny—but they were also laughing because to them it was one big joke that this girl was taking "Jamie" so seriously.

  "I wish we could figure out who she is," Chad said, casually bouncing a ball on his racket. He shrugged. "Maybe we could try to meet her."

  "Hey, now that's a great idea," Kirk said. He turned to Neil again. "Write another letter to her and set up some kind of meeting. Tell her that Jamie is dying to meet her."

  "Yeah," Michael put in. "But let's make it somewhere where we can check her out first."

  Neil bit the side of his thumb, a frown creasing his forehead. "Well . . . " It was a great idea, but he'd really rather meet her alone. Of course, there was no way he could keep the guys from going, too. "How about at the mall?"

  "Good," Kirk decided, holding out his hand for Ron's notebook. He ripped out a sheet of paper and gave it to Neil. "Make it Friday. The day after tomorrow."

  Neil dropped his racket and sat on one of the benches, composing the letter in his mind. Then he pulled a pen out of his pocket and began to write.

  Dear Q.:

  Every time I get another letter from you, I'm more and more convinced we should get together. I think it's time we met in person, don't you? If you want to meet me as much as I want to meet you, wait outside the bookstore in the mall at four o'clock on Friday. And wear something red so I'll know it's you.

  If you don't come, I'll understand.

  Jamie.

  Neil almost wished she wouldn't come. He hated the idea of her being "checked out" first by the group. It meant if her looks didn't measure up to standard, they would give her the thumbs-down. And Neil instinctively knew she was a thumbs-up girl.

  In fact, Neil was sure she was a girl he would really be able to talk to—unlike lots of girls he had dated. It seemed as if half of them were just interested in looking good or making out. A good, honest conversation was pretty hard to come by. He'd give anything for a chance to meet this girl in person.

  "Well, this should do it, huh?" he said casually, holding it out.

  Kirk took the letter and grinned. "Perfect. I can't wait till Friday."

  "I just can't wait until Friday," Jessica announced as she pulled a scarf from Elizabeth's top drawer. She held the teal-blue silk up to her face and pouted her lips seductively, studying the effect in the mirror. "Can I borrow this for tomorrow night?"

  "Sure." Elizabeth sighed and looked wistfully at her journal. Thursday afternoon was one of her usual times to catch up on her personal writing, but it didn't look as if she would have much of a chance with Jessica in one of her melodramatic moods.

  Jessica squealed with delight and rushed over to hug her twin. "Oh, Lizzie, you're such an angel." She lounged on the bed next to Elizabeth and heaved a dramatic sigh. "You don't know what it's like to live with such suspense."

  Elizabeth couldn't resist a wicked grin as she said, "With you around, Jess, I've been living in suspense for sixteen years."

  Her twin sent her a withering look. "I'm talking about real romantic suspense, knowing that the man of your dreams is going to walk through the door tomorrow night. And then it will be history!"

  "Actually, the man of my dreams should be walking through the door any minute now. Jeffrey and I are meeting Susan Stewart and Allen Walters at the Dairi Burger."

  Jessica pushed herself up and stalked across the room, ignoring her sister. "I'm telling you, Liz. Paolo sounds like an absolute hunk."

  "How can you tell he's a hunk just through his letters?"

  "I can tell, Liz. Trust me. Anyway, he's very sophisticated."

  Frowning, Elizabeth asked, "Do you know how old he is?" She leaned over the side of her bed to tickle Prince Albert's chest. He thumped his tail on the rug.

  Jessica shrugged loftily. "He's in college. What difference does age make when it's true romance?"

  Most of Jessica's dates with college boys had turned out to be disasters, and Elizabeth felt she should remind her sister of that tiny detail. "You haven't had too much success with older men, you know. I think they're too sophisticated for you."

  "You make them sound like they're a bunch of animals, Liz. Come on!" Jessica jumped up from the bed, went over to the mirror, and wound the blue scarf around her throat. "Have you forgotten our own brother happens to be in college? And I haven't heard Cara saying anything about him being a wild beast."

  One of Jessica's best friends, Cara Walker, was going with Steven Wakefield. It was a romance Jessica had worked hard to arrange, and then had tried just as hard to break up, for her own obscure reasons. But Steven and Cara were a strong and steady couple, despite Jessica's efforts.

  Elizabeth shook her head uncertainly. "I don't know, Jess. You keep trying to date older guys, and then when you do, it turns out to be a big mistake."

  "But, Liz," Jessica insisted, "that's why I used a personal ad. All the other times it was just a superficial attraction; this time I really know something about him, and I'm sure we'll be a perfect match. That's the best part of doing it this way."

  Elizabeth shrugged. She still wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much use arguing with Jessica once her mind was made up. "Well, if you're sure, Jess." She glanced down at her open journal again. "Do Mom and Dad know you're going out with someone in college?"

  A wary look crossed Jessica's face. "They're going out to dinner tomorrow night. I don't think they'll be around to find out. And you wouldn't tell them, would you?" she added with a winsome smile.

  How did she always wind up in this situation? Elizabeth wondered to herself. Covering up for her adventure-seeking twin had been a way of life for as long as she could remember. But all things considered, she wouldn't have it any other way. She would stick by Jessica, no matter what.

  "Don't worry, Jess. I won't tell them."

  "Thanks, Liz," Jessica said happily. She gave her sister a brilliant smile, then disappeared into the bathroom that connected their rooms.

  Elizabeth sighed and picked up her pen again. She wrote:

  I thought this personal idea was a good one at first, but now I'm not so sure. Penny absolutely has stars in her eyes now that she's finally going to meet Jamie (whoever he is!), and I sure hope for her sake he turns out to be everything she expects. And now Jessica is going on a date with someone she doesn't know the least thing about.

  But maybe I'm just being a pessimist. Who knows, maybe it will all turn out perfectly after all.

  She closed her journal and stared moodily into Prince Albert's warm brown eyes as she added a postscript, "I'd better keep my fingers crossed."

  Five

  At three o'clock that Friday afternoon the five boys piled out of Kirk's white Trans Am. The parking lot at the Valley Mall was crowded, and they dodged around the cars, laughing and shouting jokes at one another as they made their way to the big main entrance.

  "It's a good thing we came early," Ron said, yanking open the glass doors. "If she turns out to be a loser, we can split."

  Michael grinned broadly. "Yeah. What if she really is a hunchback, after all?"

  "I don't know, Harris. She sounds like your type." Chad ducked as Michael took a swing at him.

  Neil frowned. He had his own opinion, but he was keeping it to himself. Describing herself that way told Neil a few things. First and foremost, it was obvious that she wasn't vain. No one with a huge ego would willingly cut it down that way. And she probably wasn't unattractive, either. In his experience, unattractive people were too sensitive to make jokes about their looks.

  So where did that leave this one? He suspected that she was average-looking. Not a knockout, but attractive enough. After dating a handful of very pretty girls, Neil knew there was a lot more to a relationship than that.

  He dug his hands deeper into his jeans pockets and said nothing as the others clowned around him.

  Supremely aloof, Kirk strode through the crowded atrium with an unmistakable swagger, looking right and left with a casual, condescending glance. He had an air of command about him that showed him as their natural leader. The other boys walked slightly behind him.

  When they reached the bookstore, they stopped, and Kirk crossed his arms, surveying the area. He jerked his head upward. "Let's go hang out up there," he said, indicating the mezzanine level. The spot would afford a perfect view of the bookstore entrance, and they could easily watch from up there without appearing to be waiting for anyone.

  Neil cleared his throat. "Hey, why don't you all just wait at the video arcade, and I'll let you know how it goes."

  "No way, Freemount," Kirk said. "Just because you're the lucky guy who's going to meet her doesn't mean we can't get in on the action, too."

  With a shrug, Neil gave in. He hoped he looked as casual as he was trying to be. But his stomach was in knots. Sure, he had been elected to be the one who would go meet the girl, since he had done the most writing. But the others insisted on watching. And it really disturbed him that they would be lurking up above there, laughing at him while he met the girl he had such high hopes for.

  "Besides," Kirk went on, smiling arrogantly, "if she turns out to be good-looking, I may go meet her myself. Maybe I'll take her to that Swing Fling dance. If you don't mind," he added with elaborate politeness.

  "Jeez, man, I don't care," Neil replied quickly.

  Kirk shot him a quick, piercing glance. Then he laughed and nodded toward the stairs. "Come on. Let's go up and wait." Hands in his pockets, Kirk sauntered over to the wide staircase and strolled up.

  For a moment Neil felt a strong urge to stop him. But he couldn't help being impressed by Kirk's air of self-confidence: He acted as though he owned the mall and everyone in it. A grudging admiration filled him, and he followed the others up the stairs. He didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize his position with the group.

  "Are you sure I look all right?" Penny asked as they approached the mall entrance. It was the fifth time she had repeated the question.

  "Penny! Yes, you look great." Elizabeth assured her. Enid shot Penny a quick, sympathetic smile and reached forward to pull open the heavy glass door.

  Briefly, as the door swung toward her, Penny caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. She was wearing a new denim skirt, slightly shorter than the skirts she usually wore. She had to admit it showed her legs to advantage. And the colorful, madras camp shirt she had on brought out the pink in her lightly blushed cheeks. In her hair was a bright red headband that pulled back her short, straight hair and gave it a gentle, forward-sweeping curve. She couldn't remember the last time she had made such an effort with her appearance. I just hope it pays off, she said to herself.

  Then they were inside the busy mall. Penny glanced at the big atrium clock: 3:55. Five more minutes and she would actually meet him.

  "OK, Penny. We're going to do some shopping," Elizabeth was saying. She checked her watch. "We'll hang around until five-thirty, then meet you in front of Lisette's. Will that give you enough time?"

  "Well, I'd like to say no," Penny answered with a faint glimmer of her usual, wry sense of humor. "But I'm trying to be realistic."

 

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