Fight Fire with Fire Page 4

  Devon slid his fingers under a corner of the envelope flap and ripped along the crease. He pulled out a small white card with silver lettering.

  "In sympathy," he read aloud. "OK," he whispered. "Let's see how sympathetic you really are." He opened the card and began to read.

  After a moment he bit his lip. Nana had run into a former employee of the Whitelaws who had told her about the death of his parents. She had tried to phone him again and again, but no one had answered. Devon's eyes blurred slightly as he read the last paragraph.

  I hope this card will find it's way to you and that you will come to visit me here in Sweet Valley. You are always welcome in my home, Devon. I have missed you so terribly all these years. Please accept my invitation. It would mean so much to me.

  With love,

  Nana

  Devon closed the card and put it beside him on the faded, stained blanket. He shut his eyes to hold back the tears.

  "If you missed me so much, why didn't you let me know?" he whispered.

  A long sigh escaped his lips. Would Nana lie to him and use him as his relatives had? He wanted—needed—to believe she really cared. Her card had sounded so sincere. . . .

  The guy next door started blasting the country music station again. Devon briefly considered banging on the wall once more. He raised his fist, then decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

  He got to his feet and pulled his duffel bag out from under the bed. Then he began throwing his clothes into it. He was sick of feeling sorry for himself—sick of lying around acting defeated.

  "Sweet Valley, California," he said, considering his next destination. For the first time in weeks he felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. He pictured blue, cloudless skies and pristine beaches, an endless procession of beautiful California girls, all of them friendly and full of life.

  Devon pushed the last of his clothes into the duffel bag and jerked the zipper closed. I might as well go and find out whether Nana really cares or if she's just after my money, he thought. Besides, what did he have to lose? He took a look around the room at the sagging mattress, worn carpet, and stained, peeling walls. He decided he didn't want to end up like the loser next door, holed up in his dingy pit of a room day after day. Whatever lay ahead in Sweet Valley had to be a whole lot better than this place.

  Lila clutched her notebook against the front of her white dress as she threaded her way through the throngs of students in Sweet Valley High's crowded main hallway. All around her the tide of people hurried by, lockers slammed shut, and groups of kids chatted and laughed. Lila gritted her teeth.

  Usually she felt like a part of all the cheerful chaos, but not today. Instead she was painfully aware of the whispers and stares and the way people seemed to stop in midsentence when she came near.

  Lila squared her shoulders, lifted her head high, and forced herself to gaze back at her onlookers, nod, and say hello as she passed. But she felt like ducking into one of the empty rooms and curling up in a closet until the bell rang.

  Lila caught a glimpse of some of the cheerleaders: Amy Sutton, Heather Mallone, Maria Santelli, and Annie Whitman, along with a few other friends, hanging out by the water fountain. My real friends will stand by me, she thought. She quickened her pace and hurried to meet them as if she were heading for an oasis in the desert.

  "Hi, guys," she said cheerily when she reached the group. She waited for them to turn and welcome her, figuring they'd be full of questions about what had happened. Surely they wanted to hear all about how terribly the Sweet Valley Police Department had treated her.

  Instead a hush fell over the small crowd.

  "Uh . . . hi, Lila," Maria said, looking away quickly and running a hand over her curly brown hair.

  'What's going on?" Annie asked in an obviously forced cheerful tone.

  "That's a stupid question," Amy said, elbowing Annie in the ribs. Annie's cheeks flamed red, and she stared at her sneakers as if they were the most fascinating things on the planet.

  "There's certainly a lot going on in the life of Sweet Valley's hottest criminal," Heather said with a sneer. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and looked Lila up and down with disdain. "Tell me, Lila, are you planning to wear an innocent white dress to your trial, or will you go with something in, say, fire-engine red?"

  Lila gasped as Amy stifled a snort of laughter. Lila and Heather had never been the best of friends, but Lila couldn't believe that Heather would want to hurt her this way. Could she possibly be more blatantly evil?

  "Hey, Heather," Maria said, looking up. "Back off a little."

  "Yeah," Annie chimed in, her voice quiet. "Innocent until proven guilty and all that."

  'Whatever," Heather said with a shrug. "But I'd stay away from her if I were you guys. The Fowler heiress could turn out to be a hazard to your health." With that, Heather turned and flounced away, Amy at her heels.

  "Sorry, Li," Maria said with a tight smile. "I gotta get to class." Maria walked away, and Annie scurried after her, stopping long enough to send Lila a guilt-ridden glance over her shoulder.

  Lila's mind spun out of control, and she felt sick to her stomach. This isn't fair, she wailed inwardly. How could my friends be so cold?

  Taking a few deep breaths to prevent herself from crying, Lila leaned back against the cool wall. The most important thing was that she remain composed. She didn't want Heather to have the satisfaction of hearing about Lila's tearful breakdown in the hall.

  Just when Lila thought she had control of herself, she saw something that made her stomach lurch all over again. Caroline Pearce, the most accomplished gossip at SVH, was barreling down the hall, heading straight for Lila. As she came closer, her grin stretched wider and wider. Like a spider on the trail of a fly, Lila thought.

  She pushed herself away from the wall and tried to hurry past Caroline, but the tall redhead planted herself in Lila's path. Lila got a whiff of her pungent perfume and swallowed hard to keep from puking on Caroline's faux leather sandals.

  "Lila!" Caroline cried. "I wondered when you'd be coming back to school." She dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. "Frankly, I admire your nerve." She blinked rapidly and shook her head. "If I knew everyone was calling me a criminal behind my back, well, I'd just die."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Caroline," Lila muttered. She tried to move on, but Caroline hurried along beside her.

  "Even if everyone else thinks you bombed that restaurant, Lila, I'm not convinced," Caroline breathed. "I don't believe those rumors that you set fire to your house either." She flashed a self-satisfied look. Lila kept her eyes trained straight ahead and quickened her pace.

  "You know, Lila, if you ever need a sympathetic ear, I'm here for you," Caroline said. She moved in closer and put her hand on Lila's arm. Her touch made Lila's skin crawl.

  "You can tell me anything."

  Lila felt an angry lump rising in her throat. This is too much, she thought. As if she would ever be stupid enough to trust Caroline of all people. Did the girl think that Lila was going to reveal exactly how she had constructed the bomb or something? She jerked back her arm.

  "Crawl back under your rock, Caroline," she snapped. "Your act isn't fooling me." She pushed past the girl and continued down the hall, leaving Caroline staring after her, openmouthed.

  The nerve of some people, Lila thought, straightening her skirt as she walked.

  As she neared her locker Lila saw Jessica and Elizabeth approaching. She caught a breath in her throat. She had a fleeting moment of longing to pour out her heart to Jessica.

  Lila swallowed hard. I can't confide in her, she reminded herself. Now that Lila's relationship with Steven had come between her and Jessica, she felt worlds apart from her ex-best friend. Things will never be the same with us again, she thought with a pang of regret.

  If Jessica disapproved of my dating Steven before, it's probably worse now that I've been in jail, she realized. Lila looked the other way as Jessica and her sister came closer, intending to ignore them as she knew they would her.

  "Hi, Lila," Jessica said warmly.

  "How're you holding up?" Elizabeth asked in a soothing tone. Lila looked at them, confused and wary.

  "OK, I guess," she said softly. She wanted to keep her guard up in case Jessica intended to scoff at her the way Heather had. "As well as can be expected."

  Jessica bit her lip. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're guilty."

  Lila gave Jessica a long look. She appeared to be sincere, and Lila had known the girl long enough to be able to tell when she was lying. A wave of relief washed over her.

  "Thanks, Jess," she murmured, her eyes filling with hot tears. She forced herself to keep her voice from quavering. Did this mean Jessica wanted to be friends again? Were Jessica and Elizabeth really going to stand by her? Lila turned toward her locker and spun the dial, not wanting them to see the tears of hope that had begun to spill over.

  "Hang in there, Lila," Elizabeth said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'll see you later." Lila felt Elizabeth move away as she kept her blurry eyes fixed on her lock.

  "Take care, Li," Jessica said, inching away.

  "Bye," Lila said weakly. She looked up and watched Jessica walk off down the hall. Did Jessica really believe in her, or was she just being polite? Lila's heart ached for a time when she and Jessica would have been sauntering through school together, chatting about meaningless things like fashion and makeup. She sighed. Until just now she had almost forgotten how much she missed having Jessica as her best friend.

  She remembered how great Jessica had been right after the fire. She had convinced Lila to go on a whirlwind shopping spree to replace all the clothes she had lost in the fire and to cheer Lila up.

  At the time Lila
had barely been able to get interested, but Jessica had persisted. In the end Lila had told Jessica to take the clothes home with her. With Fowler Crest in ruins she didn't have room for them anyway, and she just couldn't concentrate on the way she looked when her life was in such a shambles. But at least Jessica had started out with good intentions.

  A pained grimace swept over Lila's face as she recalled how cold Jessica had turned when she'd found out that Lila was dating her brother. Lila's shoulders sagged under the heavy burden of the memory. She hated that they had let a guy come between them—even a guy as perfect as Steven. She and Jessica had been best friends all their lives. Was it really over for good?

  Lila tossed her long brown hair behind her shoulders. That was the least of her worries, she realized. I may miss Jessica, but I've got to make sure I stay out of jail.

  She was about to grab her French book when she spied an envelope propped up on the top shelf of her locker. She picked it up and turned it over curiously.

  The stationery was nothing special. The envelope looked like it came from one of those prepackaged sets at the drugstore. Who would give me such a thing? she wondered.

  Lila tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of ordinary computer paper. The minute she saw the signature, her heart leapt. It was a note from Steven. She pressed her lips together tightly. What would he say? He had given her the cold shoulder all the way home from the police station the other day, not understanding why she would rather spend some time at the spa than with him. After that, Lila hadn't heard from him. Until now. Her hands trembled as she started to read.

  Moments later her lips curved into a gentle smile. She felt warm all over as his words leapt off the page and into her heart. Everything Heather and Amy and Caroline had said, the pained looks from Maria and Annie, slowly faded away.

  Steven hoped she was all right. He missed her. He believed in her. She was his princess, and he loved and adored her.

  Lila stopped reading for a moment and savored the romantic words. She suddenly longed to see him with a searing intensity.

  Lila ran her fingers gently over the page as if she were caressing Steven's face. But as she read on, the smile disappeared from her lips. The sweet, romantic words had changed, and she didn't like what they said.

  I can just imagine our future. We'll have a simple wedding in my parents' backyard. There'll be family and a few friends—only the people we care about the most. And we can have a cookout and pool party after the ceremony.

  Then, after spending our honeymoon kayaking and camping in the mountains, we'll settle down in a modest house with a porch swing and a white picket fence. It will have a few extra bedrooms, of course, for all the little Wakefields we'll have running around. The girls will have your beauty, and the boys will have my intelligence.

  Life will be one big family barbecue. And with my beautiful wife by my side—with you by my side, Lila—I know I'll be successful in the D.A.'s office. The pay will be next to nothing, but it will be enough to support us, although we'll have to give up certain comforts. . . .

  Lila could feel her blood boil with disappointment and anger. How could he think that she would be satisfied with staying home in some little shack, taking care of a bunch of brats? And just what "comforts" was he planning on giving up? Certainly not her trips to Aspen or her days at the spa or real necessities like manicures and champagne and escargot.

  Who would she socialize with? A bunch of women who colored their hair with a kit at home and never set foot inside a salon? Who had no sense of fashion and wore sagging sweatpants over their spreading backsides every day? Who clipped coupons and bought their furniture on sale from department stores? Lila felt faint.

  She had thought her romance was so perfect. And then she had to read this.

  Lila threw the letter back on the shelf and slammed her locker shut. If that's what Steven has in mind for the future, he obviously has no idea who he's dealing with, she fumed silently. She kicked the locker for emphasis, then winced when a bolt of pain shot from her toe all the way up her leg. Lila looked down at her injured foot. Brilliant, Fowler, she scolded herself. Kick inanimate objects when you're wearing open-toed sandals.

  Straightening herself up, Lila tried to retain some semblance of calm. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stalked down the hallway toward class, limping slightly but keeping her head high. When I get through this day, Lila promised herself, I am going to give Steven Wakefield a piece of my mind.

  She swung open the door to her French classroom, and all eyes turned to stare at her. Lila's defiant spirit withered.

  If I get through this day.

  "I think Lila's just beginning to truly understand the complexities of Steven Wakefield," Elizabeth said with a giggle. The bell had just rung, signaling the start of first period, but Jessica had convinced Elizabeth to hang out long enough to see Lila's reaction. The two girls were huddled in the empty hallway around the corner from Lila's locker and had watched as she stormed off. Elizabeth brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and grinned at her sister.

  "You mean the simplicities of Steven Wakefield," Jessica joked.

  "You know, Jessica," Elizabeth began, starting to walk toward the stairwell, "when I first read that letter, I thought you were laying the whole Little House on the Prairie thing on a little too thick. But I've got to admit, I think it worked."

  Jessica gave Elizabeth a satisfied smile as she strolled along at her side. "Everyone thinks you're the only writer in the family, but I've got talent too."

  "As you never forget to remind anyone who will listen," Elizabeth quipped. She shifted her books to her other hip and sighed. Even though she was glad that their letter had had the desired effect, she couldn't help feeling a bit guilty about the way she and Jessica were treating Lila.

  "Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Elizabeth asked as Jessica pushed through the doors to the stairwell. "Lila has been through a terrible time lately. Now we're lying to her."

  Jessica's eyes widened, and she stopped in her tracks. "Elizabeth Wakefield, can you stop having a conscience for five seconds?" she shrieked.

  "Keep your voice down," Elizabeth hissed as Jessica's shout echoed through the empty hallways. She halted on the second step and turned to look down at her sister. "All I'm saying is, we might have crossed a line by forging a letter from Steven."

  "Maybe we did something sneaky," Jessica answered in a hoarse whisper. "But it's not like we really lied. That is the way Steven envisions his future."

  "True," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "And if it'll keep Lila away from him, I guess it's worth it."

  "Steven's happiness is the most important thing," Jessica said, stepping up and looking Elizabeth in the eyes. "We did this for him."

  Elizabeth nodded. When Jessica put it that way, the letter didn't seem so bad. Once Steven realized how wrong he and Lila were for each other and they broke up, he'd probably even thank his sisters for doing him such a great favor. After all, he was usually just as logical and levelheaded as Elizabeth herself. He'd know that writing the letter was in his best interests.

  Suddenly a lightbulb went off in Elizabeth's mind.

  "You know, Jess," she said, draping her arm around her sister's shoulders and starting up the stairs again, "our next project is to get him back together with Billie."

  "Whoa! I've created a monster!" Jessica said, pulling away and skipping up the last few steps. "One plan at a time, Liz!"

  "OK! OK!" Elizabeth laughed as she breezed past Jessica into the hallway of the second floor. "Operation Breakup is fully under way!"

  Chapter 4

  Steven paused and took a deep breath before entering the D.A.'s office. He wondered if he should have bothered wearing his gray wool suit. Why dress for work when you probably wouldn't be working?

  He realized he was grinding his teeth and stopped. Wearing a suit was a show of respect, he decided. He was going to show how he felt about the internship and the legal profession even if he was going to be fired.

  Steven started to open the door, noticed his hand was shaking, and pulled back. He had to try to look professional. Wiping his hand on his thigh, he squared his shoulders. Then he grasped the brass handle, swung open the door, and entered the office with what he hoped was a confident-looking stride. But when he thought about seeing the D.A., he felt about as confident as a turkey on Thanksgiving.