Playing With Fire (6 page)

“Who do you think you are, Chris Evert Lloyd?” Bruce yelled across the net. It was clear he didn't mean it as a compliment. “Your serve.” Angrily he threw her a ball.

Jessica bounced the ball a few times. She didn't like the way Bruce was glaring at her, as if she'd committed a cardinal sin by playing her best. Obviously he didn't like to lose.

Neither did she, but the more she considered the anger in Bruce's icy blue eyes, the more she began to reconsider her options. She was clearly on top of her game this evening, but maybe that wasn't such a good thing. Bruce didn't appear to appreciate her skill, and it was obvious he would be angry at her if she ended up winning. Carrying that logic one step further, she concluded he'd probably decide not to play with her anymore. He might even decide she was too aggressive off the court as well and dump her altogether.

That was a possibility Jessica couldn't bear. So she did the only thing she could to protect herself. For the first time in her life, she actually tried to lose at something.

During the rest of the match, she handled her racket as if she'd developed a sudden case of tennis elbow. Bruce won the set easily, 6-love.

Jessica got the first clue that she'd played it the right way when Bruce jumped the net after the set was over. Smiling now, he dropped his racket and wrapped her in a big bear hug. “To the victor go the spoils,” he announced with pleasure, “and I'm taking my reward right now.” Lowering his head, he kissed her hard on the lips, sending a thrilling shiver down her spine.

He really loves me,
Jessica thought wildly, enjoying the comforting sensation of being enveloped in his arms.
And if it makes him happy to have a girl who wants what he wants, then that's the kind of girl I'll be.

*   *   *

In Max Dellon's basement, near the Sweet Valley shopping district on the other side of town, Emily Mayer sat fretfully over her drum set. She was trying to work out the beat to the new song Guy Chesney had written for that weekend. Guy was clearly annoyed at his drummer. “What's your problem, Mayer?”

Emily pounded her bass drum in frustration. “Give me a break, Guy. You just handed me this sheet an hour ago. I'm doing the best I can.”

“That may not be good enough.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dana Larson cut in. “The girl said she's trying her best.”

“Look, Dana,” Guy snapped, directing his comments to the attractive lead singer. “We're getting a shot at the big time now. Saturday night's our first chance to prove ourselves, and we can't afford to make any mistakes. If Emily can't cut it, maybe we should find a new drummer.”

“Maybe what we need is a new keyboard player,” Dana countered pointedly. “Jeez, Guy, who do you think you are, talking like that? We're a group. We stick together. All of us.”

Max looked up from his guitar and shook his head. “You guys are something.” He chuckled. “Getting all worked up over some two-bit gig. What's the big deal?”

“If you don't know, maybe we'd better think about replacing you, too,” Guy snarled.

“Hey, lighten up,” Max drawled. “We've never had any hassles like this before.”

“All we've played are school dances and parties,” Guy pointed out. “Small-time stuff. When we go on on Saturday night, we've got to be cooking. And we won't unless certain people in this band get their act together!” He shot another warning look at Emily.

“I'm working on it, Guy,” Emily said through clenched teeth.

Dana had heard enough. “Look, Guy, I know you're under a lot of pressure to make this work. But there's no need to get so upset. We're all under pressure. Apologize to Emily and tell her you didn't mean what you said.”

“Yeah,” added Dan Scott, the bass guitar player, “we don't have all night.”

Guy scratched his neck and thought for a long time. “I guess Dana's right, Emily,” he said finally. “I'm letting this gig get to me. Sorry I jumped all over you. Friends?”

“Friends,” she answered weakly, forcing a smile. “Let's try it again from the top, OK?”

“You heard the girl,” Guy addressed the rest of the group. “Let's hit it. One, two, three, four!”

All tension faded as the music took over. Each run-through sounded better than the last, and soon even Guy was happy with their progress. By the end of the night, he was convinced they'd bring down the house that weekend.

But Emily didn't forget his earlier warning, though she secretly believed his frustration and anger were caused more by his unreturned affection for Dana than anything to do with the band. He'd never said as much to Emily, but she was sure she hadn't misread the look on Guy's face every time the group's singer smiled at him. Whatever the source of Guy's problems, though, Emily was anxious not to push her luck. After the group decided to call it a night, she went home and practiced every song in The Droids' repertoire.

It was only as she was getting undressed for bed that she remembered Russo's test. Slipping under the covers, an exhausted Emily opened her chemistry book. But ten minutes later, the lights still on and the textbook uselessly on the floor where it had fallen, she was sound asleep.

Six

“I don't believe it. I just don't believe it!” Jessica wiped a hand across her tear-streaked face, then threw herself into Bruce's arms. It was lunchtime on Friday, and the couple was sitting under one of the many white oak trees that graced the Sweet Valley High campus.

Bruce couldn't imagine what had happened, but he liked playing the role of Jessica's savior. Sure that he knew exactly what she really wanted, he began to caress and stroke her back gently. Nibbling at her ear, he whispered, “Hey, I'm not going to let anything upset my baby. What's wrong, Jess?”

Jessica pulled away just enough to look directly into Bruce's concerned blue eyes. “That idiot Mr. Russo had the nerve to give me an F on my chemistry test,” she cried.

Bruce stroked her cheeks tenderly. “No more tears, babe. It's only a dumb test.”

“It's more than that. You don't understand, Bruce. I was just getting by before this, and now I might fail the whole semester!”

“Calm down, Jess. Maybe this will help.” Bruce gave her a deep, lingering kiss.

“That was nice, Bruce,” Jessica said when they parted. “Unfortunately it doesn't solve my problem.”

“But there's a solution to every problem. Tell me what happened.”

“Remember my secret weapon, Emily Mayer? She let me down. This time she failed the test, too.”

“So next time cheat off someone else's paper.”

“I have a feeling if I switch seats now, Russo will get suspicious.” Jessica anxiously picked at the grass by her side. “Bruce, what am I going to do?”

He clasped her hands in his. “First of all, you've got to see that flunking chemistry isn't the end of the world. What are you ever going to use it for, anyway?”

“I haven't the foggiest idea. But if I flunk, I'm off the cheerleading squad. And
that
I care about.”

“A bunch of silly-looking girls jumping up and down and yelling in front of a lot of people?” Bruce patted Jessica's head as if she were a little girl. “You care about the strangest things.”

Jessica didn't like his tone, but she didn't want to risk upsetting him by making an issue of it. So she quickly switched gears, pretending she didn't care about the squad. “Well, I have to admit it's been getting a little boring lately. And I did miss a few practices this week. But even so, it would be humiliating to be kicked off the squad.”

“Well, you've come to the right person,” Bruce declared.

Jessica looked up at him with hope. She knew Bruce would come to her rescue. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I should have told you the other night that you shouldn't count on unreliable people like Emily. I've got a foolproof way for you to get an A in chemistry.”

“Bruce!” Jessica's eyes widened expectantly. “Tell me!”

Taking his time, enjoying the suspense, Bruce stretched out his legs and leaned against the oak. “It's simple.” He smiled confidently. “I know where Russo keeps his tests.”

Jessica threw her arms around Bruce's neck. “And you'll get them for me!”

Bruce pulled back abruptly, willing to play the hero only to a point. “No way. My days of messing with that man are over. But I'll tell you how to get them without being caught.”

Jessica bit her lower lip. She would have preferred it if Bruce simply handed her the tests, but she was in no position to argue. “Sure, Bruce. Tell me where they are.”

“Later,” he whispered, moving closer. “First we've got to take care of business.” Bruce wrapped his arms around Jessica, and together they fell onto the soft grass, exchanging kisses with a frantic urgency.

*   *   *

On the other side of the campus, Elizabeth carried her lunch tray to the outdoor eating area, scanning the rows of tables for an empty seat. She found one next to Winston, who sat staring down at a book, though he looked as if he hadn't the faintest idea what he was reading. “Uh, mind if I take a seat?” Elizabeth asked.

Taking a quick glance at her, Winston smiled ecstatically, not daring to believe that his fantasy had come true. The smile faded quickly, however, when he realized which Wakefield twin it was. “Oh, hi, Liz,” he said glumly. “The seat's yours if you want it.”

“That's not the friendliest offer I've had all day, but I'll take it.” She placed her tray on the table. “What are you reading?”

Winston put down the book. “You've got me. Something to do with economics.” He shrugged. “I didn't mean to sound unfriendly, Liz. I was just thinking. I'd probably be better off if I gave it all up—school, girls, my car—and joined the nearest monastery.”

Elizabeth put an arm around his shoulder. “I never thought of you as the type to get the calling. You sure about this?”

“Nah,” he admitted, “but it would make life a lot simpler.”

“Why do I have the feeling this has to do with girls? Say one girl in particular?”

Winston looked at her sadly. “Am I that transparent?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Not at all, Win,” she lied gently. “I just happen to be her sister. You want to talk?”

Winston drummed his fingers on the table for a second or two, then let out a deep sigh. “You're right. It's Jessica.”

“I know you're upset about the way she's been treating you. You have every right to be, as far as I'm concerned.”

“That's not all that's bothering me, Liz. I know Jessica doesn't care for me as much as I'd like, and I can live with that for now. What's getting to me is that she's wasting her time and affection on that jerk Patman.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I've been trying to tell her the same thing for days. Until now we've always been able to talk out our differences, but for the first time in our lives, she's shut me out completely. I mean, I have to admit I
have
been pretty critical of their relationship, but Bruce is like a god to her, and I can't stand it! She considers it a cardinal sin if I say
anything
critical about him. All I have to do is say one negative word about him, and she walks away in a huff.”

“It sounds like she's really fallen for him hard.”

“That's putting it mildly, Win. You wouldn't believe the change in her. In one week she's turned into a new person—Bruce's slave. Yesterday, for instance, she skipped cheerleading practice to take Bruce's tennis outfits to the dry cleaners. Then she went to the Record House to buy some cassettes Bruce wanted—with her own money, no less. Can you imagine the old Jessica doing that?”

Winston sighed. “We can't let her go on like this.”

“I can't stop her.” Sadly Elizabeth looked down at the tuna salad she'd barely touched. Jessica's love life was ruining her appetite more than her own ever had, she mused.

“But there's got to be something we can do!” Winston insisted.

Elizabeth thrust a forkful of salad into her mouth. It tasted like wet cotton. “Look, I think we both need to change the subject. Got any plans for tomorrow night?”

Winston shook his head. “Besides a hot date with my Atari? No, nothing doing.”

“The Droids are playing their first big-time gig tomorrow night. Want to come along with Todd and me?”

“The Droids? How come I haven't heard about this?”

“They've been quiet about it because they don't want the audience full of kids from Sweet Valley. They want to see how their stuff'll go over with a bunch of strangers.”

“I'd go see them wherever they're playing.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Elizabeth agreed, but the next moment she sucked in her breath. “Win, listen, I just remembered something. Please don't get the wrong idea, but I also asked Robin Wilson to come along.” She looked down at her plate hesitantly.

“Not you, too!” Winston exclaimed. “What's with you Wakefield girls? Why the big push to get me and Robin together?”

“I didn't mean it that way. I told you, I forgot for a second that I'd asked her. I just thought that since you didn't have any plans, you might want to go with Todd and me.”

Winston studied Elizabeth affectionately. “That was nice of you. But Robin … well, she's OK. We really don't have much in common, though. I get nervous around people who eat all the time.”

“You don't have to feel like it's a date. There'll probably be lots of new faces at the club. And you can use a change of atmosphere. What do you say?”

“I don't have to stick with Robin?”

“You're riding in the same car together, that's all. You're free to do whatever you want after that.”

“In that case, what time are you picking me up?”