* Photo credit to The Closet *
Everyone sucks on this cover. They all look like griping mannequins, moping/modeling in the window of JC Penney’s. The high-waisted pants are killing me. I HATE how Enid is wearing a near-identical outfit to Liz, although it’s only fitting, since she’s her little lackey. And I can’t believe teens ever dressed like Amy Sutton, that blond ho on the end. She looks like someone’s drunk, yuppie mom at an interior decorator’s party.
Amy Sutton, Liz’s BFF from sixth grade, is moving back to Sweet Valley after living in Connecticut with her anchorwoman mom (Dyan Sutton—the perfect anchorwoman name). Enid is ill with envy listening to Liz talk about her: “She’s so vivacious, so bouncy, so much fun” (to which Jess replies, “You make her sound like a trampoline”). Jess can’t wait until Amy arrives because let’s face it: Enid’s a bore who probably soaks her pillow every night wondering why she and Liz can’t spoon. Listening to Enid lament about Liz makes me sick: “It was hard for Enid to sort out exactly what Elizabeth Wakefield meant to her.” Basically, St. Liz appeared in Enid’s pathetic, drugged-out life and turned her into a pile of suck. Enid even admits that Liz is her role model! This is vile!
So Amy moves back and looks like “a fashion model” (at JC Penney’s!!!), and she and Jess hit it off right away, which worries Liz a little because Amy used to be a tomboy, but now she’s a boy-crazy airhead who doesn’t give a crap about getting involved with The Oracle (which is exactly what Liz expected her to do). Liz just knows that Amy and Enid will JUST LOVE each other, so she insists on a brunch with the two of them so everyone can become bestest friends. Enid is turned off by Amy because Amy wears a black jumpsuit and boots to the pancake house and says things like, “I really hate myself if I weight a single ounce over 110 pounds.” Amy’s turned off by Enid because Enid is Enid.
Amy has no problem fitting in at school, and Liz acts like a fucking parent about it: “She glowed when people praised Amy in front of her.” Then she gets all paranoid about how Amy’s been spending her time, like with her sister: “She didn’t want Jessica wasting Amy’s time with trivial things such as the sorority or cheerleading or endless gossip about boys.” How self-righteous! Quelle surprise! As if Liz isn’t being unbearable enough, she forces Enid to invite Amy on a ski trip at Enid’s aunt’s place that was supposed to be just her and Enid. But Enid doesn’t voice her discomfort about Amy to Liz because “part of being a good friend to Elizabeth meant sitting by in silence.” OMG!!!!!!!!111 HATE! SO! MUCH!
Liz continues to expect Enid to be a good friend to Amy, but then treats Enid like shit herself when she blows Enid off to go watch Amy try out for cheerleading, which she doesn’t even approve of but whatever. Then Amy blows LIZ off, and it’s a big vicious cycle of everyone blowing. When Amy isn’t giving Liz the runaround or actually sitting her down for a makeover, Liz and Enid go to the mall to buy ski gloves, and you can tell they’re just soul mates because they’re so helpful to the awkward non-skiers making purchases. Liz picks Amy up a pair of ski gloves, but Amy backs out of the trip because she wants to go to Lila’s super awesome party on Saturday, and Amy begs Liz to get Enid to reschedule, which is pretty rude. What’s even ruder is that Liz actually does it, and then gets all pissy when Enid says “I just hope Amy’s worth all this,” to which Liz replies, “That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Shut up, Liz; I hate you. Meanwhile, Amy continues to stand Liz up and fuck Liz over and CRY when she thinks Liz is pissed at her—basically, she’s acting like Jess in the early books, so of course Liz forgives her, because she’s a sucker.
About Lila’s super awesome party: There’s all this hype about her cousin/expert yachtsman Christopher—whom Lila creepily calls “the world’s most fabulous man”—coming to visit from Maine, so Lila decides to throw the biggest costumed bash in the world, and Amy is sure she’s going to be rubbing her venereal disease all over the poor bastard. Liz goes to the party as a skier—really?—as an unspoken apology to Enid, who—GASP!—also shows up as a skier. SOULMATES! BFFS! LYLAS! Even though Amy comes dressed like a skanky ballerina, Christopher is, in fact, all into Enid, whom he’s known from being her sailing instructor once upon a time. (WTF @ Enid sailing in Maine.) Lila and Amy are all pissed off because Christoper was “supposed to be reserved for Amy!” So Amy stalks Christopher and Enid around the party all night and then threatens Enid when she’s alone with her: “You can’t steal people from me!” There was a reference about how Amy bitched Enid out the previous week, but where the hell is that in this story? Instead we had to hear about Liz’s whining. Amy weasels Christopher into giving her a ride home and turns on some serious histrionics when Liz tries to make her feel guilty about it. Enid gets mad at Liz for some reason and everyone goes home hating E.Wakefield. Good.
But Enid and Liz ultimately make up, of course, after sobbing all over each other and vowing to be bestfrenz4lyfe. And, as it turns out, Enid says Christopher found Amy to be a royal pain in the ass and wants to get all up on Enid. For real. As for Amy, it ends rather surprisingly undramatically: She’s just all, “I don’t want to go skiing, Enid’s dull” and Liz all, “Mmmkay.” The end.
As a subplot, Jess and Cara Walker decide to write a love advice column in The Oracle called “Dear Miss Lovelorn.” First, can you imagine anyone taking advice from Jessica “Imma Fuck It Up Good” Wakefield? Second, would you take love advice from someone who’s loveLORN? Anyway, Jess dreams up bratty responses to people’s romantic woes and yet everyone commends her for them. Jess decides to use her column to her advantage when she falls in love with her “dialogue partner” Jay McGuire, a junior who’s dating a senior named Denise Hadley. Journalistic integrity be damned, she pens letters to the column to convince Jay that Denise is all wrong for him and that being one year older/younger than your boyf/girlf is like hopping a train to Doomsville. Apparently Denise and Jay are the only senior/junior couple at school, because everyone automatically assumes that it’s them that the letters are in reference to. Jess’s scheme works and manages to drag Jay out for a hamburger and a grope, but he’s too upset to make out with her properly—until she tells him that Denise has been cheating on him. Then he’s all over her and she settles for being his revenge smooch. Then Miss Lovelorn gets two similar letters about a couple who’s pining for each other after having a stupid misunderstanding, and vows that they’ll never see the light of day. But then she forgets all about them so Liz takes it upon herself to write the column, offering some magical advice (that we never get to read) that gets Denise and Jay all snuggly together again. But Jess’ll get over it.
Other Notes:
- It’s so barfworthy to deal with Enid kissing Liz’s ass: “She’s one of the most important members of The Oracle staff.” Forget it, Enid! Liz will never love you!
- And here, Sweet Valley High’s philosophy on love and relationships in a nutshell, thanks to Amy Sutton: “You don’t have to actually talk to someone to know it’s true love, do you?”
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