* Photo credit to The Closet *
I’ve been looking forward to this one: The title is so ridonculous, and I’m intrigued by all SVH books that end with such urgent punctuation. Sam Woodruff looks a foxy-fine T-Bird in his brown leather jacket. The other dude is a total nerdface. Does Jess join the cult for that guy? If so, she may have more problems than she knows.
Jessica is pissed, gang—she’s grounded and can’t have fun, and no one cares! Everyone else is off at pool parties and sleepovers, and because no one’s picketing for her freedom outside her bedroom window, she thinks she has no friends. Even her devoted boyfriend Sam Woodruff is more concerned about his dirt bike than her! He’d rather participate in the race he’s been looking forward to for weeks than take Jessica out shoe shopping or what have you. Imagine that!
Jess goes to the mall by herself to cry in public, and a boy—Adam Marvel—spots her moping. He guesses how she’s feeling: like a teenager. But Jess is all, “Yes yes! I’m understood at long last!” and lets herself be guided to a rundown house on the seedy side of town. (Yes, the book does say that Tricia Martin used to live, like, down the street.)
At the house, she meets Adam Marvel’s flock of do-gooding, zombie teenagers called the Good Friends. Despite being dowdy (“There was only one blonde in the room, and she didn’t even have a tan”), they’re all so kind—so much unlike Lila Fowler and the rest of those bitches! Well, there is one rotten egg named Susan, but Jess assumes that Susan doesn’t like her because Adam Marvel gives her so much attention and asks her to help him clean the garage instead of Susan.
It goes without saying that Adam Marvel is a total babe. Bonus: He understands all of Jessica’s plights! Jess is so grateful for his insightful advice that she helps the Good Friends raise money for all the charity work they do by shaking a can around at the mall, but is confused when she sees Adam using the donations to buy the house groceries. Something’s amiss!
Meanwhile, Sam is doing all but killing himself so he can take Jess out and make her happy. However, Jess, now so consumed by her Good Friends, consents only to brief pity dates that she ends with “I don’t want to talk to you. You’re too shallow.” But Sam has some intense stamina and refuses to give up; he thinks something weird is up with Jess! After all, she starts dressing in brown “like a librarian” and blowing off all her friends to go hang out with the Good Friends.
Unsurprisingly, Parents of the Year Ned and Alice don’t really bat an eye at their kid’s weird behavior. However, they are aware that a dangerous cult is running amuck in Sweet Valley that is raising money for fake charities; i.e., itself. Liz tells Jess this news and naturally grows suspicious when Jess flips out at her. Oh dear, now we got Bloodhound Elizabeth on the case!
When Sam stalks Jess to the Good Friends house, Liz infiltrates the cult dressed and acting like Jess. She witnesses one Good Friend being kidnapped back by his parents and Adam being creepy, and Susan tells her to GTFO. Todd Wilkins suggests, “I think we should go straight to your parents and tell them what we know. Your father’s a lawyer—he’ll be able to handle this,” to which Liz replies, “No, that won’t work” with no additional reasoning behind this statement. Yes, we can’t have the adults gumming up the works!
The kid who escaped the cult plans to testify against Adam, so Adam and his motley crew decide to hit the road and want Jess to come with them. Liz and Sam find out, and Liz tells Todd to meet her at the Good Friends house. Then, we get this gem: “‘And, Todd,’ added Elizabeth, almost as an afterthought, ‘I think you’d better get the police.’” Emphasis mine. My head is in my hands.
But just before Jess is about to hop into the Good Friends’ Mystery Machine and drive off, Liz comes barreling toward them, begging her not to go. Then Sam springs out of nowhere, holding Susan, who is really an undercover investigative reporter, in his arms. Adam Marvel had left her tied, bound, and unconscious upstairs. Then the fuzz appears at last, almost as an afterthought!
There’s an inane subplot (and I’m using the word “plot” generously) where Liz and her slave, Todd Wilkins, join a bowling team. Justin Silver, the gorgeous bowling coach with the “strong, clean features,” falls head over heels in love with Liz and stalks her around town. Todd thinks Justin needs to step off, but Liz insists, “Todd, I want you to know that even though Justin is incredibly handsome, smart, funny, and charming, I still love you.” That is literally what she says. Bwa—worst reassurance ever. No wonder Todd is in a constant state of jealousy.
Liz finally feels so sorry for Justin that she consents to a date (I’m having déjà vu), but he bores her by either talking about himself or how hot she is. Yawn indeed. Then goddamn Todd tells Liz, “I owe you an apology…. This whole thing with Justin Silver was partially my fault….Maybe I’d been taking you for granted.” WHAT? Todd, you’re an idiot.
To make up for this story, we have a reader of the month! Some highlights of her entry:
- “I have read them since I was in third grade, and they have grown with me. My mom read them and gave them to me. And when I have children, I plan to give my books to them.” [It’s a cycle of poor parenting choices!]
- “They also help me understand other people’s morals.” [I just fucking died.]
- “Sweet Valley books are my best friends.” [Oh dear.]
- “Jessica and Elizabeth are like the sisters I never had.” [Count your lucky stars, queen!]
- “But what I’m really trying to say is that Sweet Valley books aren’t just a series of books, they are a legend of reading.” [A legend of…oh, God, what gloriousness.]
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