It was Robin's sad face that had thrown her. But now what do I do? Elizabeth agonized. And why should she have to do anything? Because you put Robin up, that's why. You got her into this mess.

"Oh, all right," she muttered out loud. "But how can I possibly get Bruce Patman to-"

Speak of the devil. There he was right now, across the campus on the tennis court, thwacking a yellow ball with powerful, precise strokes. Bruce Patman prided himself on three things: his black Porsche, his good looks, and his tennis.

Which one, Elizabeth wondered, was his greatest weakness?

Sliding nimbly across the court in his designer tennis shorts, Bruce slammed a beautiful cross-court shot past the luckless freshman who was trying out for the Sweet Valley varsity team.

"Tough." Bruce laughed smugly.

"Some shot," said an admiring voice.

When Bruce gazed into the sun, there stood lovely Jessica Wakefield. Well, well, he thought. Maybe Jessica wants another chance with me.

"Helping some fortunate freshman not make the team, I see," said the beautiful Wakefield twin, and Bruce knew at once that it wasn't Jessica.

"Hi, Liz." He glanced at the freshman, who was chasing down the ball that had whistled past him into the far corner. "Too bad," Bruce said. "Looks like he hasn't got what it takes."

He strolled up to the wire fence around the court, brushing back his dark hair as he walked. "So, Liz. How's the newspaper going?"

"OK.".

"Say, when is The Oracle going to do a decent story on the star of the varsity tennis team?"

"Who would that be?" Elizabeth asked, all innocence.

Bruce's face went red. "Come on, Liz. You know I'm first singles. All-county first singles, in case you haven't read any real newspapers lately. Why do you always cut me down?"

Because you need it so much! Elizabeth thought. But she said, "I was thinking of writing about you. John Pfeifer is the sports editor, you know, but I was thinking of doing a feature story on the human side of tennis."

"Really?"

The combination of human and Bruce Patman almost made Elizabeth gag, but the memory of Robin's unhappy face stiffened her resolve.

"Yes, I've been thinking of writing an article about somebody who would do a good deed for someone else and never tell another soul about it," she went on.

Bruce looked puzzled. He scratched his head. "I don't get you, Liz. What is it you want to write about? Me or a do-gooder?"

It was all going right by Bruce, Elizabeth realized. His selfish nature simply did not allow him to conceive of helping anyone except himself.

She was about to turn on her heel and stalk away. But Robin's face floated before her again. She'd have to spell it out for him.

"Bruce, listen. What if somebody did you a good deed? Would it make sense for you to do the other person a good deed in return?"

"Well-maybe. Depends on what it is."

"Just suppose that somebody wrote a story about you in The Oracle-"

Bruce smiled. "About being first singles-and how I creamed that hotshot from Palisades High?"

"Yes-about that, too."

"And maybe about how John McEnroe is looking over his shoulder?"

It was definitely give-me-strength time. "Bruce, I-"

"What kind of a picture do you need?"

"Wait a minute, Bruce. If somebody wrote a story about you-"

"With a photo?"

"With a photo. Do you think you'd be willing to do that person a favor in return?"

"What favor?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. "Take a certain girl to the Discomarathon next Saturday night?"

Bruce's reaction caught Elizabeth off guard. He smiled. He preened. He stood straight and gave her a sidelong glance.

"Sure. I'd be willing to take you, Liz."

"Me?"

"I always knew you were attracted to me. I've even noticed you, too."

Hold on, Elizabeth Wakefield cautioned herself sternly. Don't say what you're thinking.

"Bruce, that's nice of you," she said, smiling tightly. "But I already have a date." And then, barely able to force the words out, she added, "Would you take Robin Wilson to the dance?"

Bruce began to laugh.

"Bruce," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, "I'm dead serious."

Bruce continued to chuckle for a moment as he studied Elizabeth's earnest expression. Then abruptly he stopped, replacing his smile with a furious glare.

"Fatso Wilson?"

Elizabeth cringed but went on. "It's a sorority obligation, Bruce. It will mean everything to Robin."

"No way! What will the guys think? What would the girls think? Who do you think I am?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You're first singles. By the way, who's second singles? Isn't it Tom McKay?"

"Second singles?"

"Hasn't he won all his matches this year, too?"

Bruce Patman spun his racket. He shook his head back and forth, struggling with a decision. Finally he spoke. "All right. I'll take her. But I want my picture in, see! A big one. And tell how I whipped that guy at Palisades."

"It's a deal." Elizabeth grinned. "You won't be sorry. You're doing something nice for a nice person."

"Save it, Liz. One of us is going to regret this deal." Bruce turned toward his opponent. "Ready!"

The freshman lobbed a soft shot over the net toward Bruce's forehand. It was a mistake. Bruce's racket whizzed through the air and-thonk-the ball careened past the frozen freshman's astonished face.

By the time she got home, Elizabeth was feeling wonderful. Actually, she thought, it was kind of fun to pit her wits against Jessica and her sorority sisters-as long as she won, of course.

Jessica was bouncing down the steps in an ice-blue string bikini, heading for the backyard pool. With her slim body, she'd never suffer the miseries poor Robin had gone through that day at the beach. It wouldn't hurt Jessica to consider things like that once in a while. But that would be like asking frogs to fly.

"Well," Elizabeth said brightly, "how's Robin doing?"

Jessica feigned disinterest. "Oh, I don't know. She tries, but I'm not sure she's going to make it."

"Why not? She's done everything you've asked."

Jessica's smile was secretive and sly. "Yes-so far."

Elizabeth grinned. "If she's made it so far, I can't imagine anything stopping her now."

"Want to bet?"

"Bet what?"

"Two weeks of laundry?"

"You're on." Elizabeth grabbed Jessica's hand and pumped it to seal the bargain.

Jessica laughed.

Elizabeth laughed, too.

Then Jessica darted out through the back, and Elizabeth heard a splash as her sister dove into the pool. Jessica's triumphant laugh drifted back to Elizabeth as she started up the stairs. She stopped midway, however, when Lila Fowler walked into the house.

"Hi, Liz. Jessie here?"

"In the pool," Elizabeth said, then started upstairs again. But a nagging thought made her stop.

"Say, Lila, how's your aunt?"

"What aunt?"

"You know, the one from New York. The shopping freak?"

"Are you on weird pills, Liz? You're not making a whole lot of sense."

Patience, Elizabeth told herself.

"The generous New York aunt who showers you with expensive gifts, Lila." The gifts you pass along to my sister, she added to herself.

Lila shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then, staring at Elizabeth, she suddenly seemed to change her mind. "Oh, that aunt. She's fine, thanks." Lila smiled unconvincingly.

As Lila nervously lifted her right hand to smooth her hair, Elizabeth spotted the ring.

"Wow, Lila-what a ring!"

"It's OK." Lila stretched out her hand to give Elizabeth a closer look.

Elizabeth examined the gold ring. It was magnificently crafted, with an Egyptian pharaoh's head carved on it.

Lila tapped her right foot impatiently. "I'd like to get out to the pool while the sun is still shining, Liz. Are you just about through looking at my ring?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, Lila."

As Lila went out to the pool, Elizabeth had an unsettling feeling. She was fairly certain there was no aunt in New York, so how had Jessica gotten the scarf and earrings? Was Lila just hiding her generosity-or trying to buy Jessica's friendship? There was probably a very simple explanation, Elizabeth attempted to assure herself. But deep down inside she had the distinct feeling there was trouble ahead.

Four.

"Hello?"

"Robin, it's Liz Wakefield. Have you kept your promise?"

"What promise?"

"Have you asked Bruce Patman to the Discomarathon?"

Silence.

"Robin?"

"Elizabeth, how can you make me do this? I'll be totally humiliated."

"Now you listen to me, Robin," Elizabeth said sternly. "I happen to know that Bruce will take you to the dance. He told somebody he would."

First there was a stunned silence. Then, "Who told you that? Who was it? How could anybody say that? How could Bruce say that? Who did Bruce tell that to? Oh, it can't be true! It's totally bananas!"

Elizabeth broke into laughter at Robin's outburst.

"How can you laugh at me?"