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#39 – Secret Admirer

* Photo credit to The Closet *

What, from this image, has anything to do with a secret admirer? The chick with the serious headband is Penny Ayala, editor-in-chief of The Oracle, and she looks like a chick I went to college with, so I guess I’m partially looking at this and thinking, “Shannon! What are you doing on an SVH cover?” I also am in loathe with the way she’s standing—she’s checking the time and not even looking at her watch! And she’s frozen in this awful pose forever! HATE!

Penny—a shy, studious senior—is hard-up for a date, as if you couldn’t tell from the “shy, studious senior” bit. Enter Lynne Henry and her idea for running personal ads in The Oracle. How is this allowed in a high school paper? There are just so many things that are totally ridonculously wrong with this idea that I can’t handle it, one being that Mr. Collins can now pen love letters to teen girls anonymously without getting fired/anyone knowing. Liz asks Penny if she plans on writing an ad, and Penny gets all flustered and admits, “I’m not really the type boys like to go out with.” Noes! Whenever someone hints about their less-than-perfect life, it’s the equivalent to calling upon the Goblin King to take Toby away. Now Liz is all involved and there’s no going back. Liz takes it upon herself to advise Penny “to learn how to lighten up a little around guys.” It’s annoying, but contains some truth, especially since Penny brings a stack of books and papers to the beach. Par-tay! Liz begs and pleads Penny to take out a personal ad, and Penny consents:

“Hook-nosed hunchback seeks kindred spirit. The ideal candidate will have a doctorate in Australian theology, love caves, speak Urdu. If you’re looking for a girl who giggles, don’t bother to respond. I’m strictly the guffaw type. Junior or senior will do just fine.”

It was very strange to read something creative and interesting in an SVH book! The ghostwriter must’ve been elated to finally use his/her English degree for something other than toilet paper. Anyway, Penny gets three responses to her ad, but only one is deserving of a response: a mysterious “Jamie” pens her a quirky, intriguing letter, and it sets her heart and loins aflutter. Sadly, it’s nothing but a big ha-ha for mega jerk Kirk Anderson and his cronies, including tennis player Neil Freemount, who’s thoughtful, sensitive, and totally ball-less—Kirk has him writing the letters to Penny, even though Neil wishes he could write to his beloved “Quasimodo” for realreal, but he doesn’t have the guts to stand up to Kirk because he likes being part of a group too much. Man up, dude!

Kirk gets Neil to convince Penny to meet “Jamie” at the mall in front of the bookstore wearing something red, even though Neil’s stomach is churning with the thought. Penny shows up and waits forever, but of course Jamie never arrives—because Kirk and The Boys are too busy giving her a thumbs-down from the mezzanine overhead. But Neil thinks she’s pretty all right and feels like hell for being a douche. Liz overhears Kirk and the gang laughing their asses about it all, so Liz vows to give Kirk a taste of his own medicine and tells him that her cousin is super-hottie teen model Erica Hall and that she’s coming to Sweet Valley. There’s a scene where Enid Rollins and Liz are going on and on about beauty of the Wakefields’ “cousin,” and Kirk is hanging over their shoulder and being a cocky asshole that’s truly hilarious. (I feel I must tell you when something’s good in this series because most of it is…well…) Kirk wants to go to the dance with Erica and demands that Liz set it up. Even though Liz warns him that Erica is a bit of a heartbreaker, Kirk’s not having it: “She’ll want to go with me, don’t worry. Just send her the photo and tell her all about me. She couldn’t say no.” Liz tells Kirk that Erica said yes and that she’d meet him at the dance, during which he gets stood up and pissed off and no one’s sorry at all.

Meanwhile, Neil feels lower than a wiener dog’s stomach about the whole thing, and tries to make it up to Penny by answering questions and sounding smart in American literature. He vows to redeem himself by writing her a letter from “Jamie,” begging for another chance to meet her, this time outside the Dairi Burger, and what’s cute is that he’s suddenly worried that Penny will be disappointed in him rather than the other way around. He sees Penny show up, and at that moment, so do Kirk and The Boys. Trouble! After an inward struggle, Neil ultimately tells Kirk to shove it and then goes to meet Penny and introduce himself as her secret admirer. Penny thinks Neil’s a babe, and Neil comes clean to Penny about standing her up at the mall and about how it all began as a joke. Penny tries to leave with her dignity but he tells her that he’s actually into her, and they smooch.

Sub-plot! Jess and Lila Fowler gripe about how there’s no decent guys around (considering that they’ve dated them all), so they have a contest on who can write the best personal ad to attract to the hottest college guy. (They plan on reaching their target audience by just hoping that one picks up The Oracle when it’s lying around in Steven Wakefield’s dorm room. Oh, give me a break.) Since I know you’re dying to know what their ads said…

Lila: “Glamorous, sophisticated, mature high school girl looking for someone with the right stuff. I like fast cars, caviar, and the Caribbean. Don’t talk to me about commitment—I’m looking for excitement, not a bridge partner. If you can keep up with me, I want you. Kids need not reply.”

Jess: “Are you devastatingly handsome? Are you romantic and wild? Do you like girls who aren’t afraid of danger? Are you the type of guy who goes for what he wants? Are you in college? If you answered yes to all the above questions, drop me a line. I’ve been looking for you.”

Jess’s ad with all the questions gives me a headache, but Lila’s contains the oxymoron “mature high school girl.” Jess prepares for a date with a guy—Paolo—and is sure it’s going to be “the biggest romance of the century” because the guy calls her “mi amore,” which means that he MUST speak Italian. However, does she get a shock of her life when Paolo turns out to be…fat. SCREECH! We all know how Francine hates the fatties! Jessica sincerely panics—“Her reputation would be ruined!”—and even though she acknowledges that he’s amusing, interesting, and takes her to a fashionable restaurant, she feigns BEING AN INVALID with brain problems (that last part is actually correct) so “the tub of lard” rushes her home and leaves her life forever. Ugh, it’s cringeworthy to read.

Jessica’s spirits brighten when she gets a response to her ad—along with a photo of a hunky guy, John Karger, whom she goes out with for baklava while he fires away a million questions at her. Jess thinks she’s won the bet, while Lila thinks she’s won, and the only way to settle the matter is to have both dates show up at the free concert on the beach on Saturday and have the other cheerleaders judge them. To no one’s surprise, Lila and Jessica were BOTH sharing John Karger…along with a billion other girls, because he’s a sociology student who just wanted to find out what kind of people respond to personal ads. And he’s got a girlfriend. Ah, the ups and down of personal ads!

Other Notes:

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