SVH04-Power Play (6 page)

"You, too?"

"I say a lot of dumb things at places like this," he admitted. "I like the movies--especially old movies. Did you know there's a Humphrey Bogart festival at the Valley Cinema?
There's
someone who always knew the right thing to say!"

Robin smiled for the first time in an hour. "Lauren Bacall always knew the right thing to say, too. Maybe we should get a scriptwriter."

Allen laughed. It was a nice laugh, Robin realized.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going, Robin."

"Going?"

"Yeah. I've got to get home."

"You're not going back to the dance?"

"Back there? No way. I didn't belong there in the first place."

Remembering Elizabeth's lecture, Robin took a deep breath. "You know, Allen, running away from a problem doesn't solve it."

"Huh?"

Robin paused, finding it hard to believe she

was trying to talk Allen Walters into going back to the one place she was determined to avoid. I
must be as out of it as everybody thinks I am,
she told herself.

"Maybe you should assert yourself, Allen. You have as much right to be there as anybody else."

Allen thought about that. "Maybe you're right. OK, let's go."

"Us?" Robin sputtered. "I meant you. I'm going home."

"I don't think I can go in there alone, Robin."

Running her fingers through her dark hair, Robin tried to imagine what would happen if she went back to the gym.
Oh, why not?
she finally concluded. The worst had to be over.

"One dance?" she said.

"I can if you can."

They both cringed a little as they reentered the gym. The noise, the lights, the crowd made a sharp, unfriendly contrast to the peace of the parking lot.

Just at that moment, Jessica swirled by. "Robin, PBA pledges are supposed to dance, to mingle-- not to hide out in corners with ..." The rest of her words were lost, but Robin got the message: PBA pledges do not hide out in corners with wimps like Allen Walters.

And then she was in Allen's arms, and they

were dancing. If it could be called that. He seemed to want to turn in only one direction, so they were constantly spinning backward. Robin glanced at him, and his face was red and grim. A little embarrassed for both of them, she looked over her shoulder again, only to see smirking faces watching them as they moved across the floor.

Robin wasn't the only one who noticed. At the end of the song, Allen muttered, "Listen, I have to get out of here. I'm just not much good at this."

"Sure," said Robin. "I understand. I'll see you around sometime." Wondering if Allen thought her dancing was as clumsy as his, she swiftly turned and headed for the door. She was going to do what she should have done all along--go home.

To her surprise Allen caught up with her again. "Say, can't I see you home?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean--"

"You want to?"

"Yeah, sure I do."

Robin smiled, surprised. "OK, Allen."

As they walked out, Robin glanced at Allen Walters again. He was even taller than she had realized. And he had very nice eyes.

Six

Jessica Wakefield was an innocent person wrongfully accused, she raged.

Elizabeth pursued her around her bedroom, knocking down Jessica's arguments at every turn.

"Elizabeth, I will not be yelled at for that ridiculous charade tonight! I mean, it's a total mystery how or why Bruce Patman took Robin to the Discomarathon at all. Nobody believed for a second that she'd ever get him to take her!"

"Oh, then you admit that you deliberately set up an impossible task so she couldn't make it into Pi Beta, huh?"

"Yes--no--that's not fair! If she were the right material for Pi Beta, she wouldn't have had any trouble. But, who ever thought--? Besides, I don't control Bruce Patman."

No,
Elizabeth thought sourly, I
took care of that.

Somehow Jessica sensed that she had struck a note that put her in the driver's seat. She immediately pressed forward.

"We all tried to figure out why Bruce did it, but we couldn't. Did you hear anything?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You seem to have taken over as Robin's best friend. Did she tell you how she worked that little miracle?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "Let's just drop it. I'm only glad Robin got through all this alive. At least you can't keep her out now."

Jessica sat before her mirror and began brushing her hair. "I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed."

"You heard me, didn't you? I said you can't keep Robin out now."

Jessica stared at her reflection as she brushed her sun-streaked, shoulder-length hair.

"You know, sister dear, I am not the entire membership of Pi Beta Alpha. It's not up to me alone."

Elizabeth didn't like the sound of that. But she was too exhausted to figure out what Jessica was really saying.

Elizabeth was so relieved that Robin's pledge dares seemed to be over that she didn't even mind when the next day Jessica ducked out, leaving her to pick up their mother's watch at the repair shop in the Valley Mall. It amused her to think how outraged Jessica would be when she discovered that Elizabeth had been allowed to drive her mother's little red Fiat for the errand.

She laughed to herself.
Too bad, Jessica. That's what you get for pulling your usual disappearing act.

She parked the car, picked up the gold watch, and was strolling back through the vast, airy indoor mall when she spotted an exclusive little shop she hadn't noticed before.

The discreet sign over the door read Lisette's. The selection of imported, expensive French gifts in the window was breathtaking. Elizabeth found herself walking in to gaze at uniquely designed gold jewelry on display atop bright glass counters. Beautifully crafted gold earrings caught her eye, as did a gossamer-delicate pin, inlaid with precious stones. Lovely silk scarves, tied gracefully

around a velvet post, cascaded onto the front counter.

Elizabeth undid one and examined it carefully. It was exactly like the one Lila Fowler had given to Jessica.

"Yes, miss?" said a polite voice. Elizabeth looked up to see a saleslady watching her warily.

"What a lovely scarf," Elizabeth commented.

"Yes," the saleslady said, moving closer. "May I interest you in one?"

"Oh, I was just looking. But--how much is it?"

She smiled. "It's one of our finest imports, and only ninety-five dollars."

Elizabeth felt the scarf slide from her hands. "Ninety-five dollars?" she repeated.

"They're an exclusive item with us, you see."

"Exclusive? You mean exclusive in California?"

"I mean exclusive anywhere."

"Oh, but a friend of mine ..." Elizabeth began, her voice trailing off. So it was true. Lila's aunt couldn't have sent it to her. But Lila didn't seem like the type to purchase such generous gifts for her friends.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth mumbled.

"Have you seen a scarf like this somewhere else?"

"Oh, well--I thought I saw one like it."

In her nervousness Elizabeth moved away a little too suddenly, and a tray of gold jewelry went skittering across the glass counter.

"Oh, my goodness! Oh, I'm so sorry . . ."

She anxiously scooped up rings, earrings, and bracelets, hastily putting them back on the tray. As the saleslady began to rearrange the pieces into an attractive display, Elizabeth suddenly spotted another familiar item. It was a little face on a gold ring. A delicately carved Egyptian pharaoh's face. Exactly like the gold ring Lila Fowler had.

Lila certainly does believe in spending her money,
Elizabeth thought.

The saleslady was now out from behind the counter, checking to see if any stray pieces of jewelry had fallen onto the floor.

"Please stay here, young lady, until I have everything," she said in a tone of voice that sounded more like a command than a polite request.

"What?"

"Let me see now. . . . Yes, that's right. I guess that's everything."

"What's the matter?"

"You might be interested to know that we have recently installed a brand-new, very expensive security system, young lady. Shoplifting isn't going to be so easy from now on."

"Shoplifting?"

"Yes. The shoplifter who has been working this mall--and my shop, in particular--had better watch out. In fact, that lovely scarf I saw you staring at has a twin. But it was one of the items that was taken."

"Yes ma'am," Elizabeth heard herself saying as her mind began whirling.

"Who is the person whom you said has a scarf like ours?"

"Oh," said Elizabeth, backing away. "I can't remember her name."

Moments later, she walked out of the mall, headed toward the Fiat Spider.
It's probably nothing,
she kept telling herself.
It must be a different scarf.
But the nagging feeling that someone was not telling a frightening truth kept returning.

Terrified of her own thoughts, she started the car.

Seven

The next morning Elizabeth was tired. She had been awake much of the night, unable to forget her suspicions. Should she confront Jessica about the gifts from Lila? Were they really
gifts?
If not, how had Jessica gotten them?

Go in there right now and ask her,
she told herself.
Ask her what? "Are you a shoplifter, Jess?"
Elizabeth's worst fears were starting to take over. Jessica had done some pretty sneaky things, but she wouldn't steal--would she? Would Lila, when she had enough money to buy anything her heart desired?

Try the casual approach. "Hey, Jess, pick anything

up at the Valley Mall lately that you forgot to pay for?"
"What a dumb idea," Elizabeth muttered to herself.
Maybe I should tell Mom? After all, aren't parents supposed to handle things like this? Sure. Great. "Mom, I think Jessica may be shoplifting at the mall. Have a nice day!"
That wasn't a dumb idea. That was a totally idiotic idea.

"Lizzie, what do you think?" Jessica burst into Elizabeth's room without bothering to knock. Jessica never considered privacy important-- except her own.

"I think I don't know whether I want to be my brother's keeper," Elizabeth answered.

"You know what I think? I think you're strange. Steve doesn't need a keeper."

"Steve?"

"You remember him: tall, two years older than we are, comes home from college once in a while. Why in the world would he need your help?" Jessica drawled sarcastically.

Elizabeth stared at her sister in momentary confusion. "Steve? Oh, for heaven's sake, Jess. When I said brother, I didn't mean
our
brother. I was speaking about--I was just speaking philosophically," she finished hurriedly.

"Don't get weird on me, Liz. I only came in to ask you if my new scarf goes with this sweater. I don't need a philosophy lecture."

Elizabeth stared at Jessica's sapphire scarf and

heaved a tense sigh. "About that scarf--" she began, then faltered. "Actually, Jess"--a germ of an idea suddenly formed--"the scarf isn't really right for you. It makes your skin look sort of yellowish!"

"Yellowish?" Jessica squeaked and spun around to look in the mirror. She ripped the offending scarf off and dropped it on Elizabeth's dresser. "You might have had the decency to tell me about this before, instead of letting me walk around with a yellow face!"

Thoroughly annoyed, Jessica was almost out the door when her sister's question abruptly stopped her.

"By the way, Jess, what time is the PBA meeting tonight?"

"Meeting--tonight?"

"Jessica, I know tonight is vote night."

"Vote?"

Give me strength,
Elizabeth pleaded to whatever forces might be listening.

"I know that Robin and the two other pledges will be voted on tonight, Jess. Where and what time?"

"I don't know how you found out about it. Eight o'clock--Cara Walker's house!"

"What do you mean you don't know how? It's my right to vote! You couldn't call it a final count without me!"

"Oh, I was going to do you the favor of voting for you," Jessica answered sweetly. "I know how you dislike going to the meetings."

Elizabeth shook her head in disgust at her sister. Well, at least the Robin Wilson problem would be resolved, she thought. "When will you induct Robin into PBA?"

"Induct? Haven't you forgotten something, Liz? The vote comes first."

"Jessica, she got through the pledging with flying colors. The vote should be automatic," Elizabeth reminded her.

"Maybe," Jessica returned. "Gee, look at the time. We'll be late if we don't get a move on." She practically flew down the stairs.

"Jessica!" Elizabeth shouted. "You'd better not be planning anything."

"Who me?" an indignant voice floated up to the second floor.

Elizabeth folded the scarf neatly and put it in her drawer before going downstairs. It seemed a good idea to hide it, though she wasn't sure what good it would do her in the end.

"Elizabeth, what is the significance of the Dred Scott case?" asked Mr. Fellows, her history teacher.

"What do I dread? What--what did you say?"

Elizabeth stammered, to the merriment of the class.

"When you return to earth, let me know," said Mr. Fellows. He then directed the same question to Todd Wilkins.

After class, a concerned Todd caught up with Elizabeth. "You really look spaced out," he said.

"Oh, Todd! Things are in such a mess."

"What happened?"

"Well--I just know it's not true."

"What's not true?"

"But I know it is."

"Huh?"

"I'll see you later," she said and hurried off, leaving Todd standing alone, shaking his head.

That day Elizabeth made a firm decision to tell everything to Mr. Rollins. Then she decided just as firmly not to. She would simply forget about it all. Then she realized that was impossible. She had to find out the truth.