Here we go!
The book opens with Jessica Wakefield griping about how “disgustingly fat” she is, despite that Francine Pascal (a.k.a., her ghostwriter) points out that she’s actually “the most adorable, most dazzling sixteen-year-old imaginable.”
Just so you know, both Jess and her twin sister, Elizabeth, have silky, sun-streaked blond hair, sparkling blue-green eyes, perfect skin and size-six figures, an ideal height of 5’6″, and identical lavaliere necklaces. But feel free not to remember a word of that, as every book following will devote a generous reminder that says precisely the same thing.
Following that healthy paragraph is another one devoted to their differences. Here, a handy cheat sheet:
- Elizabeth wears a watch; Jessica does not.
- Elizabeth is four minutes older; Jessica is not.
- Elizabeth writes the gossip column, “Eyes and Ears”, for the school paper, The Oracle; Jessica is a cheerleader.
- Mischief gleams in Jessica’s eyes, while Elizabeth’s reflects “only sincerity.”
- Elizabeth is a smug, “saintly” hypocrite; Jessica is a conniving succubus. (I may be paraphrasing here.)
Anyway, Todd Wilkins, star basketball player, is Jess’s latest victim, er, crush. He also happens to be “the one boy in all the world whom Elizabeth loved,” despite that they’ve had about three conversations. Liz is so tormented by her longing that she swears that things will only be fine when she’s “dead and can’t think of Todd anymore,” and that if Todd chooses her sister over her, “she’d do the decent thing. Die.” It’s all terribly reasonable.
“The dazzling Jessica Wakefield” needs validation after Todd won’t ask her to the dance, so she gets in a car with the town bad ass, Rick Andover. She agrees to go on a date with him after he insists that they have “some serious boogeying to do.” I don’t care that the book came out in 1983—no dude would ever say that.
Rick takes Jess to the bar Kelly’s, where she scolds him for not being able to keep his hands off her, despite that she basically let him feel her up in his car the previous day. A bar fight ensues. Afterward, Jess is escorted home in a cop car and lets the officer call her “Elizabeth,” which Caroline Pearce, the school gossip, overhears. Soon, all of SVH is abuzz about Liz starting a riot at Kelly’s and they all treat her like a social pariah. Todd Wilkins is set to write Liz off forever, and Ronnie Edwards even calls the whole thing “unforgivable.” Shoot her at dawn!
In spite of it all, Liz still throws her arms around Jess and cries, “Oh, Jessie, you’re wonderful… You deserve everything. Everybody loves you, and they should.” Maybe everyone should be more concerned about whether or not Liz is on crack as opposed to her hitting the sauce at Kelly’s every now and then.
Eventually, Jess breaks down and tells Todd the truth about what happened at Kelly’s that night. He’s so moved by how noble she is for taking the blame for her sister that he invites her to the Phi Ep dance. Meanwhile, class clown Winston Egbert asks Liz to the dance, and even though she’s still mooning over Todd, she agrees to go. What follows is a demonstration of a tragic lack of self-worth:
[Winston] stared at the beautiful, popular, intelligent Elizabeth Wakefield and almost fainted. “OK!” he said, astounded, and then turned and raced madly across campus, screaming like a deranged chimpanzee.
The Phi Ep dance rolls around. Winston literally flings himself at Elizabeth Wakefield’s feet and all but screams “I am not worthy!” Jess realizes that Todd couldn’t give a damn about her, especially when he sidesteps a goodnight kiss. She vows to make him pay, so she tells Liz that Todd tried to rape her, a tactic that seems especially alarming in this era.
Of course, Liz doesn’t pick up on that fact that her sister is a lying sack of shit—not even after sixteen years of this nonsense—and thinks, “Why would she lie about such a thing?” It’s tough to believe that this is the first time Jess has resorted to such nasty shenanigans, making Liz such a dumb ass that you eventually stop feeling sorry for her. Why are we supposed to be rooting for these two again? Oh, right—because they’re hot, with “all-American good looks.”
Rick Andover makes another drunken appearance by stealing the Fiat with the twins inside it (how this happens, I’ll never know), and Todd saves them. Later, Todd and Liz suck face in his car, and Liz gets back at Jessica by telling everyone that her sister writes the “Eyes and Ears” column for the school paper The Oracle—a confession that is met with the tradition of tossing the writer in the school’s pool fully clothed. Yes, that’ll teach her.
Always a fan of lists, I’ve compiled some of the other sociopathic and/or ridiculous things Jessica does in this book alone, which include
- Whining because she can’t drive the Fiat
- Calling Liz a wimp for not letting her drive into the parking lot for her image’s sake
- Commanding Liz to not go over and talk to Enid Rollins, Liz’s best friend, on the grounds that someone might think it was her talking to Enid
- Giving Liz a hug only to steal the car keys and later abandon her sister at school (She later says she did it because she saw her sister get in a car with a bunch of kids and adds, “I think it was sneaky and rotten of you to leave me like that when it was your responsibility to bring home the car.”)
- “Shuddering at the thought of having anything other than an attractive family”
- Freely admitting that she doesn’t like when Elizabeth hangs out with anyone but her
- Flipping out about her mom not being home to cook dinner for her and insisting that she’s ruined her day, “totally and absolutely!”
- Telling her brother Steven that he has no taste in women and then crying that he’s ruining her perfect day when he gets pissed at her for it
All in a day’s work!
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