My Best Friend's Boyfriend Read online

  MY BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND

  Written by

  Kate William

  Created by

  FRANCINE PASCAL

  Copyright © 2015, Francine Pascal

  "Listen, Ginny," Mike said, sounding shy and uncertain. "Can we meet sometime? I want to thank you in person."

  A dozen wild thoughts clamored in Ginny's mind: Phone counsellors weren't supposed to meet the callers; she wanted to meet Mike; she didn't want him to see that she wasn't pretty; she wanted him to go on thinking she was pretty; she didn't know what she wanted!

  "It's against the rules," she finally managed to say.

  "Ginny, come on, we're friends," Mike pressed. "Please."

  Mike's voice was so warm and sincere that Ginny felt her resolve weakening. "OK," she whispered. "Just once."

  He let out a whoop of triumph. "Great! How about Saturday? Somewhere in Sweet Valley?"

  "How about at Casey's Ice Cream Parlor at three?" Ginny suggested. "I'll wear a green sweater."

  "I'll know you, don't worry," Mike said with a laugh. "I'll just look for the prettiest girl in the place!"

  Ginny's heart sank. "Wait—"

  "See you on Saturday. Bye." Mike hung up.

  Ginny took off her headset and covered her eyes with her hands. What had she done? As soon as Mike met her, he'd see what a mistake he'd made. That would be the end of their relationship, such as it was. If only he could just keep calling her on the phone, without ever knowing that she was just plain old mousy Ginny . . .

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  One

  "Surprise." A stack of pages thumped down in front of Elizabeth Wakefield at the lunch table. Elizabeth looked around to see Penny Ayala, the school paper's editor-in-chief, pushing a pencil behind her ear.

  "Let me guess. You need these edited and proofed by ten minutes ago," Elizabeth said, riffling through the pages. The roar of a typical Sweet Valley lunch period filled the air around her.

  "Something like that," Penny agreed. "Can you bring them back to the office at the end of this period?"

  Elizabeth smiled. Deadlines always seemed to arrive too soon. "Sure," Elizabeth answered. "No problem."

  "Thanks," Penny said, then turned and walked away. Elizabeth pushed aside her lunch and dug around in her bag for a pencil.

  "The supreme sacrifice," a mocking voice said from behind her.

  "You know me," Elizabeth said to her identical twin sister, Jessica. "I live and breathe for our school newspaper." Her blue-green eyes sparkled with laughter.

  "Well, honestly," Jessica said, slumping into a chair next to Elizabeth, "it's depressing to be linked to someone who works so much. I have my reputation to consider, Liz."

  Elizabeth grinned. Jessica's reputation was based on a firm foundation of stylish clothes, cheerleading, and gossip, all held together with nail polish. It was as solid as a rock, and Elizabeth knew her twin had nothing to worry about: no one would ever mistake Jessica for the serious twin.

  Elizabeth had always been the more responsible sister. She had been born on time; Jessica had been born four minutes late. By nature, Elizabeth was more thoughtful, more cautious, and more studious than her sister. It had been a goal of hers from second grade on to be a writer. Writing for the school paper, The Oracle, was only one way to hone her skills. In recent months, she had begun to submit articles to the local Sweet Valley newspaper and to the prestigious Los Angeles Times. If her work sometimes meant skipping a party, or canceling a trip to the beach, it was an acceptable cost. Though Elizabeth enjoyed playing as much as the next person, she was perfectly willing to give up a lot for her work.

  Jessica, on the other hand, was always perfectly willing to give up work for play. Eleven years of school had taught her that time was too precious to spend all of it on books and math problems. So she cheerfully devoted hours at a stretch to playing tennis, shopping with her friends at the mall, or hanging out with her boyfriend, Sam Woodruff, while he worked on his dirt bike. Her itchy feet had led her into many tricky situations over the years, but her good instincts had always led her out just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, her idea of the right time to back out of an adventure did not quite coincide with her twin sister's. It was one of the few reasons there was ever any friction between them.

  In spite of their differences, however, there was a unique tie that kept them the best of friends. Because they were physically identical, from their perfect size-six figures and honey-blond hair to the dimples in their cheeks, it was easy for them to take each other's places. Covering for each other had attained the level of an art form with the Wakefield twins. Of course, Elizabeth usually had to be dragged into schemes kicking and screaming, but as Jessica often pointed out, it would all make juicy material for a novel someday.

  Elizabeth chalked up her escapades with Jessica to experience. Being a writer meant getting involved, and with Jessica around, there was always something to get involved in.

  "You missed a typo there," Jessica said, pointing at a page with the straw from her can of diet soda. "Oh, here come Amy and Lila."

  "Hi, twins," Amy Sutton said cheerfully as she pulled out a chair. "Who's got some interesting news? The grapevine is withering from lack of dirt."

  "Here's a news flash: Elizabeth is working again," Lila Fowler pointed out in her typically dry tone. "Doesn't she know you're allowed to relax a few minutes every day?"

  Elizabeth smiled and continued reading. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a number of other friends coming to the table to eat their lunches. The conversations swelled around her, but didn't interfere with her ability to concentrate.

  "So what kinds of really interesting calls have you gotten on the hotline lately?" Jessica asked, leaning across the table toward Amy.

  "Jess," Elizabeth said, snapping back into the present at the sound of her sister's voice, "you know that's supposed to be confidential."

  "It is," Amy agreed. "I made a promise to keep everything I hear absolutely private."

  Sometimes it seemed strange to Elizabeth that gossipy Amy Sutton volunteered at a teen hotline. Discretion and privacy weren't in Amy's natural vocabulary. But surprisingly, Amy was really very good at her job. She did, however, like to talk about the fact that she worked at the hotline, though she never discussed specific calls.

  "It's really important that people know they get total privacy when they call," Amy explained a bit pompously. "Project Youth just wouldn't work if callers thought we were blabbing their problems to everyone. You have to swear an oath in order to be part of our special team."

  "Come on, Amy," Jessica said with a laugh. "You make it sound like the Pentagon."

  "The job requires just as much security," Elizabeth said. She knew Amy wasn't exaggerating. She had recently done a series of articles about the Project Youth clinic and its teen Helpline. The phone service at the community center had been started recently with money contributed by various private sources. One local family, the Morrows, had given a generous donation in memory of their daughter, Regina. If only a teen hotline had existed sooner, Elizabeth thought, her friend Regina might have had someplace to turn to when she was in trouble. Because Regina had felt so alone after her breakup with Bruce Patman, she had fallen into a downward spiral that had led to her death from a fatal reaction to cocaine
.

  "Elizabeth is right," Amy insisted. "Lots of the kids who call are really messed up. The only way we can help them is if we take it all very seriously."

  "Can't you even tell us in general, vague, non-specific terms what some of the calls are about?" Jessica prodded.

  "Look out, Amy," Lila said. "The Jessica gossip-digging machine is going to work on you."

  "You know," said Denise Hadley, a senior, "I've been trying to get my friend Ginny to volunteer for the hotline."

  "Why doesn't she?" Elizabeth asked.

  Denise shook her head, sending her lustrous red hair swinging across her shoulders. "She says she wouldn't know what to say. But she's a great listener. I know her well, and that's one of her best qualities."

  The fact that Denise Hadley and Ginny Belasca were close friends was a surprise to some people. Denise was outgoing, poised, elegant—and knockout beautiful. Ginny was shy and self-effacing, and seemed to dress with the hope that she would be invisible. Elizabeth had once thought that Denise liked to hang around with Ginny because the contrast between them made Denise even more strikingly attractive. But now that she knew them both a little better, she realized that there was a real friendship between them.

  "There's always room for more volunteers at Project Youth," Amy said to Denise. "And we'd train her so she'd know what to say. Try to talk Ginny into joining. If she's interested, she can talk to me, or call Kathy Henry. She runs the show."

  Jessica put an arm across Elizabeth's shoulders. "Don't worry. If absolutely necessary, Liz will step in and help out. Just blow the trumpet and yell: 'Elizabeth Wakefield to the rescue!' "

  Everyone around the table laughed. "At least Elizabeth takes her responsibilities seriously," Denise reminded Jessica. "Unlike some people."

  "Uh-oh, low blow," Lila drawled.

  "I consider it my responsibility making Sweet Valley High a more fun and exciting place to be," Jessica announced grandly. "And that is a job I take very seriously."

  Elizabeth let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Well, thank goodness for that. That's one less thing for me to take care of. Now I can finish these and get them back to the office."

  She stood up and waved goodbye to everyone. "See you later," she said. She smiled at Denise. "I hope Ginny joins the hotline."

  "I'll keep working on her," Denise answered. "I promise."

  "How does this color look on me?" Denise asked later that afternoon at the mall. She met Ginny's eyes in the mirror and raised her eyebrows.

  Ginny ignored her own reflection and instead studied the effect of the emerald-green beret against her friend's shiny red hair. She smiled. "It looks great, of course."

  "Should I get it?" Denise went on, tucking her hair up under the hat for a new effect. "I could wear it when I go to the concert tomorrow night with Jay."

  "Poor guy," Ginny teased. "He'll be so busy looking at you, he won't hear a thing."

  Denise plucked the beret off her head and swatted Ginny with it playfully. "Ha ha. Jay and I have been together so long, he doesn't even notice me anymore. I'm just as familiar to him now as his basketball sneakers. You know, important, but not something to sit around admiring every day."

  "Yeah, right." Ginny shook her head. She knew as well as anyone that Jay McGuire didn't take Denise for granted. He had even confided to Ginny that sometimes he couldn't believe a beautiful, glamorous senior like Denise would go out with a lowly junior like him. Of course, he tended to overlook the fact that he was drop-dead handsome himself. But that was the effect Denise had on people: her beauty made people forget their own attractiveness.

  In her own case, Ginny realized, there wasn't much to forget. She knew she wasn't pretty, and that was a fact she had always accepted, like any other fact of nature. The sun rose and set each day, and Ginny Belasca was mousy and easy to miss in an empty room. Paper-bag-colored hair, ordinary face—nothing special, straight down the line.

  "Try this one on," Denise suggested after putting the beret back on the counter. She took a black fedora off the hatrack and held it out.

  "Oh, please," Ginny said, waving it away.

  "Come on, it's cool," Denise insisted as she placed it on Ginny's head. "I can never get you to try anything on."

  Ginny took the hat off and put it down firmly. "That's because you always want me to try on things I would never wear. That hat is definitely not me."

  "I'll see if I can find one of those clear plastic hats, then," Denise said with a grin. "The kind old ladies wear."

  "Mmm, that's perfect."

  Ginny grinned. Sometimes Denise was very pushy, but it was all done out of love and friendship, and Ginny appreciated the intention. So they played out the same game over and over: Denise tried to talk Ginny into doing something, and Ginny stepped neatly out of the way. It had been that way for years, ever since they had first met at summer camp.

  Ginny knew that lots of people, at first, wondered what their friendship was based on. At least they wondered why Denise would be friends with Ginny. But Ginny knew that she brought her share to their friendship. She knew she was smart, and pretty good at sorting through difficult problems; her self-mocking attitude toward life allowed her to see humor in many otherwise depressing situations. And although most of the popular girls at school only heightened Ginny's sense of insecurity, Denise never did. Denise had proved to be a true friend.

  Ginny smiled at what she knew was going through her friend's mind at the moment. Denise was eyeing the hatrack critically.

  "Deniiiiiiise," Ginny said. "It's not worrrrrking."

  "But you'd look so pretty in some of these," Denise pleaded.

  Ginny took her friend's arm and steered her away. "Forget it. I'm not pretty, so what's the point in dressing me up?"

  "You are pretty," Denise said stubbornly.

  "I am not pretty," Ginny said just as stubbornly.

  "You have great inner beauty," Denise insisted. "And a beautiful voice, and—"

  "And someday my prince will come," Ginny said. "Drop it, OK? My shopping tolerance is wearing thin and if you're not careful, I'll just leave."

  Denise smiled ruefully. "Oh, all right. I just think if you tried a little harder . . ." she said quietly.

  Ginny stopped and gave Denise a hard look. The one discussion that she really didn't want to slog through yet again was the issue of her datelessness. Denise was always wishing that she and Jay could double-date with Ginny and—and someone. But Ginny's shyness was an obstacle, and it really was too painful for her to discuss. She wasn't good at flirting, or even at carrying on a simple conversation with a boy she liked. She made so little impression on boys that they hardly knew if they had ever spoken to her. That was another fact of nature. Period.

  "OK," Denise muttered. "I won't say another word."

  "Until tomorrow, probably," Ginny said with a smile. "Do you want to go back and buy that beret?"

  "Yes." Denise linked her arm with Ginny's, and they headed back to the hat display. "You know, I was talking about you at lunch."

  Ginny cocked one eyebrow skeptically. "Oh really?"

  "Some people were talking about the Project Youth hotline," Denise explained. "Have you thought any more about it?"

  "Well . . ." Ginny leaned her elbows on the counter. "I know I'm not impressive in person, but I guess I do have a nice voice. Maybe people would feel like talking to me on the phone, when they can't see my dreary face."

  "Ugh!" Denise groaned. "Get an attitude adjustment!"

  Ginny shrugged. "I have been thinking, and I think I'll at least call to get some more information."

  Denise grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkled with delight. "You will? That's great! You'll be perfect, I know. Amy Sutton said the person to talk to is Kathy Henry. Call her when you get home, OK?"

  "OK, OK!" Ginny chuckled. "You know," she admitted, "if I didn't have you around to push me, I probably wouldn't do anything at all!"

  Two

  Jessica pulled open the
heavy front door of the building that housed the Project Youth program and stepped inside. A few teenagers were sitting together at one side of the waiting room, talking quietly. Jessica glanced at the clock on the wall. Since she never bothered to wear a watch, she never knew what time it was, and now she was startled to see she was actually early to meet Amy. With a shrug, she sat down in an easy chair and picked up a magazine from the nearby table.

  She flipped through it impatiently. Being early didn't mean she was prepared to wait.

  "Hi, can I help you?" a woman asked. "I'm Kathy Henry."

  Jessica looked up with a quick smile. "Oh, I'm not a client or anything. I'm just waiting for Amy Sutton. We're going shopping when she's done with her shift. Can I go inside and wait for her?"

  "Sorry," Kathy said. "The switchboard is off limits, but I'll let her know you're here."

  "Thanks." Kathy walked through a door marked Private, and Jessica continued to flip through the pages of the magazine.

  It still surprised Jessica that Amy was so serious and closemouthed about her work. Originally, Amy had been pressured into the job as a way of bringing up her sociology grade. But to everyone's amazement, Amy had found real rewards in the volunteer work. She had also met a fantastic boy, Barry Rork, who became her boyfriend.

  Amy spent at least two afternoons a week answering phones in the next room. To Jessica, behind that tantalizing door labeled Private was a gold mine of interesting stories. It annoyed her that she could never pry any of them out of Amy. Amy knew full well that her friend had more than her share of natural, healthy curiosity!

  "Oh, Jess, hi," Amy said, popping her head around the door. She looked flustered and upset. "I'll be—I just have to—"

  "What's wrong?" Jessica stood up. "You look awful."

  Amy threw a slightly desperate look over her shoulder and then seemed to come to a decision. "I have to take a break for a minute," she said to someone behind her. Then she came out into the waiting room and threw herself into another easy chair.

  "So tell me what's wrong!" Jessica pressed.