Playing With Fire, chapter 8

EYES AND EARS.

The halls are buzzing with the news of a hot and heavy thing going on between Lila F. and a certain blond football player. Chalk up one more for Lila.... Three cheers for Lois W.! John P. showed up at her party. Guess sometimes dreams do come true.... Bill C.'s found another surf bunny.... Enid R.'s packing up her suitcases for another weekend visit with G.W.-fourth in a row, but who's counting? ... Cara W. has her eye on a basketball-playing senior. Maybe she can get him interested in something besides dribbling!... Danger: Toni J.'s now on the roads. Pedestrians beware....

Elizabeth sighed with despair after giving her latest column for The Oracle a final read. It seemed to her that it lacked its usual punch. Had her writing gone stale? she wondered. No, the breezy copy was as fast-paced and readable as always. There were plenty of tidbits on all the leading couples in school. All but one. And that, she realized, was where the trouble lay.

Elizabeth had left out the most talked-about duo in school, Jessica and Bruce. Not that there hadn't been anything to write about, she admitted grudgingly to herself. In the two weeks they had been dating, the two had been nearly inseparable around campus, sharing lunches and study periods, frequently cutting classes to sneak some loving moments in the alley behind the school cafeteria: Jessica devotedly went to every single one of Bruce's tennis practices, watching his every shot with adoring eyes. She even ran after his tennis balls as if performing a sacred duty. She spent almost every night with him as well, and when she didn't she kept a vigil by the phone, just in case he had a sudden change in plans.

During dinner the night before, Jessica had given everyone a replay of a practice game between Bruce and another player on the team. "He sounds quite good, Jessica," her father had commented. "But has he been able to beat you, yet?"

"Oh, we don't play against each other."

Ned and Alice Wakefield exchanged puzzled looks. "You mean you play doubles together?" Mr. Wakefield had asked.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I just watch," she'd declared matter-of-factly-as if it were perfectly normal for the Wakefield family's best tennis player to sit on the sidelines voluntarily.

Her father had stared at her incredulously. "But why, Jess? You love to play."

With that now familiar dreamlike look in her eyes, Jessica had said, "I'd rather watch him, Daddy. He looks so beautiful on the courts."

Mr. Wakefield had smiled at his daughter's romantic vision, while his wife had given Elizabeth a worried look.

"Didn't you two play a few sets when you first started going out?" Elizabeth had asked pointedly. "I seem to remember you were looking forward to showing him how good you are."

Jessica had snorted. "That was so juvenile of me. Besides, I could never beat him-he's very, very good."

Now, staring at her column, Elizabeth realized that if she had ever complained about the old Jessica, she'd gladly take it all back now. She couldn't stand the changes Bruce had caused in her sister. The old Jessica was fun-loving, spontaneous-and she never walked away from a good game of tennis. And, more importantly, Jessica always shared everything with her. Now, more often than not, Elizabeth had to find out about Jessica's doings from starry-eyed dinner conversations like these-and she didn't like what she was hearing. It was clear that the strong-willed twin she used to know had turned into a helpless puppet-and Bruce Patman was pulling all the strings.

DROIDS DO IT AGAIN.

By Elizabeth Wakefield (second in a continuing series) The Droids' path to rock-and-roll stardom took them this week to Marshalltown, where they performed at the Rancho East, one of the beach area's leading music spots. We're told that the Sweet Valley band proved once again that they are one of the up-and-coming groups on the rock scene, earning a standing ovation from the enthusiastic audience.

Droids' drummer Emily Mayer summed up her feelings about the show: "It was our best performance yet. Everything seemed to click, and the crowd was super. I wanted to play for them all night."

The band has been on the move since last performing in Sweet Valley. Guy Chesney, keyboardist for the group, has been busy writing original songs, three of which were introduced at Saturday's concert. "We're getting into new areas, away from the simple old love songs," he said. "Topics like alienation and loneliness. They may sound like downers, but the messages are uplifting. And of course there's still the famous Droids beat that Sweet Valleyites know us for." Next week the band returns to Sand Pines, where they made their impressive debut two weeks ago.

"Pretty good write-up, don't you think?" Guy handed the paper to Max for his inspection.

"If you like fiction." Max rolled up the paper and whacked Guy with it. "You're beginning to believe your own notices. That's bad, man."

"Yeah, what about that standing ovation business?" Emily came down from behind her drums and joined the boys as they seated themselves around an old table. "The place was half empty, and Liz wasn't even there, so she had to get the information from somebody. Wonder who?" She looked directly at Guy, who couldn't meet her eyes.

"It's not hurting us, right?" Guy defended his action. "What's wrong with letting everyone in school think we're really making it?"

"Nothing, except it's not true," Dan said.

Max lit up a cigarette. "Yeah, two gigs in dives like those don't qualify as success in my book. When's Tony going to get us some real dates?"

"I thought you didn't care," Emily said. Max just shrugged.

"Did someone mention Tony?" Dana came running down the stairs and took a seat with the others. "Sorry I'm late, but I was on the phone with Tony for a long time. He's in L.A. trying to line us up at more clubs." She smiled. "He says he's getting lots of positive feedback. Isn't that great?"

"Fantastic!" Emily cried. "Where are we playing next?"

"He says he'll get back to me in a day or two." Dana looked at the others. "We ready to get started?"

"Yeah, sure." Suddenly glum, Guy pulled back his chair and walked slowly to his synthesizer.

The sudden change in mood was apparent to Emily. "Are you OK, Guy?" she asked, realizing he might be reading something hurtful into Dana's conversation with Tony.

He turned instead to Dana and asked, "Why did Tony call you? I thought we agreed that I was the one he'd be dealing with."

"Maybe your line was busy," Max said sarcastically.

"I don't know why he called me," Dana answered. "But it doesn't really matter, does it, Guy?"

The frizzy-haired musician switched on his instrument and didn't say another word.