* Photo credit to The Closet *
This was one of the few SVH books I’d saved from my youth, and I have no idea why. I think maybe I did so because there was a hot (and sad!) redhead on the front. And let me just say that this probably one of the most boring SVH titles to date. Couldn’t every book in the series be called Rumors?
There’s a super important, Cinderella-esque event called the Bridgewater Ball that everyone is peeing their pantz in regards to, and everyone’s talking about Susan Stewart and Gordon Stoddard will probably go together. Who the eff are these people? Why should I care? Actually, no one really knows who Susan is (not even Susan), although “the woman she lived with,” Mrs. Reister (aka Aunt Helen), “had finally agreed to tell her on her 18th birthday.” Huh? This is some shady biznazz up in here, and even though it’s never explained how Susan got to living with “Aunt Helen,” no one even really questions it, because it’s rumored that Susan’s some sort of princess or Hollywood royalty or whatever. Please. But this rumor is enough to for Susan to be invited to go golfing with Gordon and his parents (named Bink and Farley) and talk about liking “the right kind of people”—wow, fun! Books like these have me convinced rich people are dull and thus the opposite—parties with white trash themes and 40s—are good ideas.
As it turns out, Lila used to go out with Gordon, and Lila Fowler’s mad that Susan is hot and going to the Bridgewater Ball with a date while Lila is still single, so Lila decides to “teach her a lesson.” Um…okay? Lila tells Cara Walker and Caroline Pearce that Susan’s real mom is in a mental home. LOLZ. It’s the stupidest fucking story, so of course everyone believes it. All of sudden, Susan’s rich, awesome friends are breaking plans with her and avoiding her like a leper and—gasp!—even Gordon dumps her, roaring, “What gave you the right to tell everyone you were so important?” Who IS this guy?
Remember Allen Walters? Robin Wilson had dumped his ass and he’s just coming back around again, so you know he’s going to be relevant, especially since he clearly has a history of “saving” girls when they’re going through huge transitions, simply by being their sensitive, shiny-armored knight. Susan does, indeed, sob on Allen’s shoulder when everyone abandons her. Everyone, of course, except Liz, who—while Jess and Lila decide to go after Gordon—takes this as a perfect opportunity to prey on Susan. How is it that no one gets annoyed that she’s always running around, asking people about their problems?
Please note that by chapter three, you already know how the story’s going to end, so it’s frustrating to have this charade drag on for a hundred more pages until “Aunt Helen” composes a letter to Susan, confessing the bleeding obvious: She’s her mother, and Susan is her illegitimate child. “How could an unmarried woman raise her child without being shunned or scorned?” Try moving away from WASPy Sweet Valley. Oh no, but that’s out of the question, because Sweet Valley is perfect in every way!
“Aunt Helen” tears up the letter just as her ex-love Jackson Croft, the Steven Spielberg of Sweet Valley, strolls in the door, deciding to make amends with his daughter—Susan!—after his other kid just died. Susan walks in, and Jackson Croft is all Luke-I-am-your-father, and Susan demands to know who her mom is before she realizes what the rest of us have known all along. Susan doesn’t know how to forgive “Aunt Helen” at first, although she readily accepts Jackson Croft, even though the whole mess is his fault. But she and Helen—er, Mother—make up and yadda yadda. I’m always rushing through these endings because they’re always so trite.
Lila gets Gordon to take her to the ball, even though he turns around and re-asks Susan to the ball at the Beach Disco, and she’s all excited and glittery-eyed, and doesn’t even realize that everyone wants to be around her again because she’s famous. She’s also dumb enough to think Allen only wants to take her out to a coffee shop on the night of the ball out of pity. Then, five seconds later, she has this revelation from out of nowhere, and tells Gordon to “go jump in the ocean” with his snobbery, which is a SVH burn for “stick it up your arse.”
THEN, Gordon turns to re-ask out Lila—oh, dude, do not even go there. You should know better. Lila is all, “To you from me, Pinky Lee!” and throws soda on him, making his “expensive cashmere sweater” all wet. How I long for the opportunity to throw a drink in the face of someone who has smote me and have it be the ultimate revenge.
Meanwhile, Jess is studying health and learning where babies come from, and she starts suspecting her mom of being knocked up because Alice wants pistachio ice cream and goes to the doctor. Instead of just asking Alice if she’s preggos, Jess wants to spy on her like a mature, rational adult, and Liz acts all disapproving, as if she’s never had such an idea in her life. Jess snoops around and finds goodies from a baby boutique, so she and Liz start dropping “we love babies” hints to show their support, but that only prompts Ned and Alice to be all, “All right, which one of you is in trouble?” ::DIES:: That’s so awesome I almost can’t believe it. I’m so happy imagining a picture-perfect Wakefield twin all knocked up at the tender age of sixteen.
The twins rush Steven home from college, and he refuses to let Alice carry groceries or stand for any period of time. Jess and Liz even suspect Alice of carrying twins. When the Wakefield kids finally confront their parents, Ned and Alice think it’s hilar. After all, who’d want more kids after dealing with Steven and the twins? Waste of plot alert! Then everyone blames Jess for jumping to conclusions, forgetting that they did so themselves.
Other Notes:
- Can I just say that the fog around Regina’s miraculous hearing is annoying me? She was kidnapped from Switzerland in the midst of her treatments, but then I read nothing about her actually going back and finishing it all up, but now she’s running around, hearing “just about perfectly.” I feel incomplete! Loose ends!
- Winston Egbert wants to start an annual poor people’s ball where no one “with incomes of more than $500 a year allowed,” which sounds a hell of a lot more fun that the Bridgewater Bore.
- ARGH! I just re-read my own recap and this book was such a waste of time!
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