* Photo credit to The Closet *
It appears we have Liz gripping her bindle stiff and looking sorry for herself as she wipes away a fake tear. Going by this cover and how I already feel about Liz, I can’t tell you how much I’m really not looking forward to reading this.
Ned and Alice separate because they’re workaholics who are always at each other’s throats. Jess thinks it’ll be “kind of fun,” but Liz is two steps away from putting her head in the oven because she suspects the separation is all her fault. Liz, please get over yourself. Still, she has a bit of a point—she gave her mom’s co-worker the phone number to the isolated vacation spot they were all at in efforts to bring the family together, and of course work called Alice away and Ned got pissed and decided to run for mayor, which, as everyone knows, is the best way to exact revenge.
Ned moves into a crummy one-bedroom apartment that lacks the personality of the Wakefields’ Spanish split-level—what doesn’t? Alice throws herself into her work, while Steven’s home from college even more than ever, which I didn’t think was possible, and he and Jess are at each other’s throats constantly while Liz just cries and cries. Jess pits her mom and dad against each other in regard to disciplining her and wrangles new outfits out of Ned by using his guilt. Yet I still like her more than Liz, who’s failing school and forgetting Oracle assignments. Oracle editor-in-chief Penny “On Your Ass” Ayala even shows up at Liz’s house to give her a stern talking-to!
And then, in the midst of all this family drama, Liz and Todd Wilkins have a fight and break up! I’m so sick of these two. This time, Todd’s been whining about not seeing Liz enough and her shutting him out of her life, and Liz can’t deal so she dumps him. “She felt sorry for Todd, but she couldn’t say for sure that she loved him.” Just seven books ago, she was in love with him again! Anyway, she resigns herself to staying home on Friday night with her mom because Alice so clearly needs her. And—just moments after dumping Todd—Liz starts dressing skankier and accepts a date with some Paul bloke and several other guys within one week because it’s no use being tied down and she wants to keep her mind off troubles at home. Her thought process isn’t making any sense to me. Then Jessica implies that Liz is a slut! Now that’s is rich. In fact, Jess gets so pissed that Liz is getting all this attention from the boys at school that she tells Liz that their parents’ failed marriage is all her fault, and then Liz cries and cries some more.
Finally, Liz packs herself a little duffel bag and decides to run away…all the way to Enid Rollins’ house for one night. She writes a goodbye note apologizing for all the wrong she’s caused in this world and says only that she’s staying with “a friend” because she’d obviously rather them panic and search the town than “call up and ask [her] to come back.” Fucking drama queen. The Wakefield household erupts into a state of chaos at her disappearance. Code red! But when they’re all together, worrying, they realize it’s time that they “stopped blaming one another and started looking for ways to make repairs.” Meanwhile, Liz is at Enid’s, watching videos and leaving the phone off the hook. Because Liz takes it upon herself to block another family’s incoming calls all night long so she can avoid her petty problems. When she comes back home, everyone’s like, “SORRY LIZ WE LOVE YOU” and it’s dumb. Then Liz realizes she’s misses Todd—DUH—and they get back together—DUH—when Steven and Jess play matchmaker. Soooo stupid.
Enough with the sob story: Jess finally meets her teen party-hotline boyfriend Charlie, who’s so witty and interesting on the phone, but in real life, he’s hot but totally lame. After two dates, Jess calls it off—she’s just that bored—and claims she’d rather date a fun guy who wasn’t so foxy than foxy guy who wasn’t so fun. That’ll be the day. Lucky for Jess, no truly ugly people live in Sweet Valley. Jess sneaks a call to the party hotline and one girl tells her that the dude she was out with wasn’t Charlie after all. I am shocked. He pulled the Truth about Cats and Dogs card and got a boring but good-looking friend to be his stand-in, and now he’s terrified Jess will find him ugly.
Pi Beta Alpha throws a costume party—always with the costumes, these kids—and Jessica gets a disgusting idea, so disgusting that I must type it verbatim:
Amy [Sutton] had called that morning and said the guy in her tennis class had turned her down. Why not get Amy and Charlie, the real Charlie, to go to the dance together as blind dates? Jessica could go with the other Charlie, the handsome one. What was his name, anyway? And the four of them could double-date. That way Jessica wouldn’t be mortified by being caught out in public with someone who wasn’t good-looking. And at the same time she would be able to enjoy the benefits of being with both Charlies and having both of them be in love with her!
I’m truly sickened. But let’s talk about the real Charlie’s face: “He wasn’t classically handsome. He had a bumpy nose, he was a little too thin, and his eyes were spaced too close together, but there was something very appealing about him.” And he’s dressed like a pirate. Total fox! And even Jess thinks, “the more she looked at Charlie, the cuter he seemed—and the less interested he seemed in her.” It turns out both Charlies are more fascinated by Amy than Jessica. BURN! I’d say that Jessica learned a valuable lesson here today, but she still never dates a non-classically handsome person after this.
Other Notes:
- I remember reading these books and seeing how much all the parents worked—that’s all they do!—and I dreaded being a grown-up. It sucks so much to be an adult in Sweet Valley!
- Liz frets, “I think there’s something weird I’m doing lately that gets people mad at me and at each other.” Yes, it’s called not minding your owns.
- Finally, someone else notices that Steven’s wasting his tuition money. Jess asks, “Don’t you have a dorm room anymore? I thought you were supposed to be so big and grown-up now” and, when he shows up on a Wednesday evening, “Aren’t you getting kind of worried that they might kick you out of school if you don’t spend more time there?”
- I seriously question Todd’s balls in this story. Examples: he turns off the TV and says to Liz, “You don’t want to watch this junk. Tell me what you’re feeling instead”; suggests going to the costume party as “the King and Queen of Hearts”; calls Liz to remind her about their “date to go shopping”…
- Jess goes to the costume party as “an intergalactic princess.” LOL.
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