Coach Schultz picked up his whistle and walked out of the room, leaving Roger to think over what he had said. Roger knew the coach was right, but even the grand prize of a full scholarship would be useless if he lost his job. The way Roger figured it, with his good grades he stood an excellent chance of winning a scholarship anyway. But he needed the money from his job right now to help pay his family's bills. And winning the race wasn't a sure thing, anyway. If he took the chance of losing his job and ended up losing the race, too, he'd wind up with nothing. By not running in the race, at least he wouldn't be any worse off than he was now.

Roger was preoccupied with his situation as he walked down the hallway to his next class. He didn't even notice Lila approaching until they practically bumped into each other.

"Well, well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise," Lila said, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, hi, Lila," Roger said, a smile lighting up his own face. "Sorry I couldn't join you at lunch today. I had to practice." Actually he'd been doing his homework in the library.

"Oh, that's OK," Lila said. "But I'm glad I caught you. How'd your practice go?"

Roger shuffled his feet uneasily. "Oh, well, OK," he lied.

Lila smiled. "Don't be so modest. You're very talented, and there's nothing wrong with letting the world know about it. In fact, I even wrote a little poem about you. I wanted to have it run in The Oracle, but your friend Olivia rejected it. I'd like you to hear it, though. Got a second?"

Roger was amazed that Lila had taken the time to write about him. "Sure, go ahead."

Lila deftly plucked a folded piece of white paper from her shoulder bag and began to read dramatically.

Roger Barrett, a boy so fine.

His speedy running is so divine.

In school, too, he is very smart.

He'll walk away with the trophy at the Bart.

In everything he operates at the highest stratum.

We at Sweet Valley are so proud we have him.

She paused to let the words sink in. "Well, what do you think?"

"Um, what can I say? Thanks." Roger was glad Olivia had had the good sense to save Lila the humiliation of having it published. The poem was awful. "It was very thoughtful of you," he added diplomatically.

"I know," Lila said. "I just wanted to make sure you realize that we're all behind you one hundred percent. We want you to win. I've even asked Jessica to write a new cheer for you for the race." Lila clapped her hand to her mouth. "I don't believe I said that. It was supposed to be a surprise."

"You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, Lila. Really you shouldn't have," Roger emphasized.

"There's that modesty again." Lila shook her head. "It's my pleasure to do these things for you. I was also thinking you're probably going to be very hot and tired after your race practice today. Why don't you join me for a little swim in my pool?"

Roger's eyes grew wide. He couldn't imagine anything he'd like more-and anything that was so far from ever becoming a reality. "I'd like to," he said. "But I can't."

"Why not?" Lila pouted, fingering his shirt seductively. "What can you be doing that's more important than that?"

"I-I can't tell you," he said. "Not yet. Listen, I've got to get to class. I'll talk to you later." He ran down the hall before Lila had the chance to make him say something he knew he shouldn't.

"We'll see what happens," Lila said, her face hardening. She wasn't used to being turned down, and she didn't like it.

Eight.

Elizabeth Wakefield peered around the stairwell door in her father's office building and looked down the hallway. She felt a little silly playing detective, but she'd come to the conclusion that she'd never figure out what her sister was doing unless she saw it herself. For an entire week Jessica had been staying late at the office, but her reasoning was starting to wear a little thin. How long could it take to fix up a supply cabinet?

When she had entered the building, Elizabeth had had to sign in at the night guard's desk. She had deliberately scrawled her name illegibly-she didn't want anyone to recognize it. She was glad she had worn her jacket with a hood; with her hair covered and the hood tied closely around her face, the guard would be less likely to mistake her for Jessica. As she was about to get on the elevator, she had spotted Roger Barrett making his way toward the front of the building, pulling his mop and pail alongside him. Not wanting to embarrass him and not wanting to be spotted herself, Elizabeth had slunk toward the stairs and quietly walked up the four flights to her father's floor.

Now, she tiptoed toward the office. Through the frosted glass door, she could see the silhouettes of two people standing close together, and from the sound of things, it appeared they weren't talking about legal matters.

"Mmm..." Jessica murmured. "No one kisses the way you do."

"There's plenty more where that came from," Dennis said.

So it was a boy, Elizabeth thought, her deepest suspicions confirmed.

"How'd you like that?" Dennis asked softly after what must have been one of the longest kisses in Sweet Valley history.

"Delicious," Jessica said, snuggling up to him. "But doesn't it bother you just a teensy bit that we spend all our time in this office?"

"I'd hardly call this suffering. Would you?"

"Well, no..." Jessica began.

Dennis continued. "Besides, where else can we go? Your dad thinks you're here doing your homework. What if he were to call up and get no answer?"

"I'm not necessarily talking about weeknights," Jessica hinted.

"We're just getting to know each other. We've got plenty of time," Dennis told her. "There's no need to rush into anything."

Jessica sighed. "I suppose you're right." It wasn't her style to give up so easily, but she didn't want to let Dennis think she cared that much.

The blond-haired boy traced Jessica's lips with his fingertip. "Hey, no frowns allowed here." He kissed her once gently, then again, with more insistence. "Tell you what. Let's go out right now."

"But what about Dad?"

Dennis thought a moment. "Call him up and tell him you're going to grab a bite to eat before coming home."

"Great thinking," Jessica said, brightening considerably. She got up and went to the phone.

That was Elizabeth's signal to make herself invisible. Moving like a cheetah, she found refuge behind a nearby water fountain and waited for them to come out of the office.

The boy was helping Jessica on with her sweater. "What do you say we go to Guido's? It's close by, and then afterward I'll walk you to your car," he said, leading her toward the elevator.

Normally Jessica left before Dennis and had the night guard see her to her car. "Oh, I was hoping you'd give me a ride home, Dennis. I didn't bring my car today. My sister begged me to lend it to her, and I couldn't bear to turn her down."

Elizabeth resented being used as a convenient excuse for her twin. The only reason she herself had the car that night was because their mother had needed it during the day and had turned down Jessica's request for it. The twins were allowed to use the little red Fiat only when their mother didn't need it for her job as an interior designer. Elizabeth knew their parents would be furious if they discovered the real reason Jessica had been begging them to lend her the car the previous week. Jessica had convinced them that the buses ran so infrequently that she needed the car if she was going to stay late at the office to do her homework. Fortunately for Jessica, Alice Wakefield's design business was going through a slow period, so she hadn't needed the car as much as usual, and she had been very pleased that her normally flighty daughter was becoming so serious and responsible.

Dennis, of course, was unaware of Jessica's lies as he brushed his lips against her forehead. "What timing," he declared. "I'm having a lot of trouble with my car, and it's in the shop. I've got to take the bus home. Sorry, Jess."

She didn't seem to mind. "That's OK. We'll wait at the bus stop together then," she said as the elevator arrived.

The imitation wood elevator doors opened, and Roger Barrett, dressed in his institutional green janitorial uniform, stepped out with his bucket and mop. A shock of recognition registered on his face and on Jessica's, but neither one said anything as their paths crossed. Elizabeth felt her stomach churn in pity for the boy. By tomorrow morning his secret would be common knowledge around school, and once again he'd be the laughingstock of Sweet Valley.

Unless Elizabeth acted-and acted quickly. Sneaking back down the stairs, she waited until Jessica and Dennis had signed out. Then she, too, signed out and hurried down the street in the opposite direction from Jessica and Dennis. Jumping into the Fiat, which she had parked on a side street, she quickly put the key in the ignition. She wanted to be home well before Jessica.

Roger knew he was in trouble. He needed some advice, and as soon as he got home that evening, he reached for the phone and dialed Olivia's number.

"I've got problems, Liv," he confessed to her.

Olivia was surprised to hear Roger's voice. She'd gone out of her way to avoid him ever since he'd won the race trials and, apparently, Lila Fowler's heart as well. The sight of the two of them together was a painful reminder of how much she was missing out on and how much she truly cared for Roger.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"First off, there's something I've got to explain to you. You know how I've told you I spend most of my time studying? I lied, Liv. My family's a lot poorer than I've led you to believe, and I've got to work to help pay the rent. Every day after school I'm a janitor in an office building."

For a few seconds the line was quiet as Olivia absorbed the news.

"Go on, say it," Roger continued. "It embarrasses you to realize you're friends with a cleaning boy. If you don't want to be my friend anymore, I'll understand, so just-"

"Roger Barrett, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Olivia cut him off. "I don't find anything wrong with your being a janitor-except that I wish you'd told me sooner. I have a feeling you're the one who's ashamed. You have no reason to be, you realize."

"Oh, no? It's bad enough I've had to spend my life having people laugh behind my back about my clothes. The last thing I need is for the whole school to find out I clean other people's bathrooms."

"So what if they know? The people who find something funny about that aren't your friends and they never will be. But there are plenty of kids out there who'd admire you for what you're doing."

Roger sighed. "Well, it looks as if I'm about to find out if you're right."

"I don't plan on telling anyone, if that's what you mean," Olivia said.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't. It's Jessica Wakefield I'm concerned about. I ran into her tonight at the office building. I'm sure she's on the phone with her friends already."

"Even if she tells the world, I don't see that you have anything to worry about. You're a big star in school, Roger. The fact that you're helping out your family can only make you a bigger hero."

"Well, that's the other thing I'm calling about. The star is about to fall. I can't run in the Bart. I don't have the guts to tell anyone. You're the only person who knows."

"Why can't you run?"

"My boss, Mr. Pendergast, is a real rat. I know he won't give me the time off on Saturday to race, let alone some time to practice during the week."

"Have you asked him?"

"I'm afraid to, Liv. A few weeks ago I asked him for an afternoon off so I could take my mother to the clinic. He gave me an hour off-and even that was like pulling teeth-but then he warned me that if I asked him for any more time off, he'd consider it my resignation notice."

"He can't do that!" Olivia declared.

"He's the boss," Roger pointed out. "He never loses an opportunity to let me know how lucky I am to have the job. I can be replaced very easily."

"I doubt that, Roger. But in any event, there's got to be a way to get you to run. Now it's clearer than ever that you really could use that scholarship-certainly a lot more than Bruce Patman could. Tell you what. Let me think about it and see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, Liv. You're a good friend."

For a long time after she got off the phone with Roger, Olivia pondered the situation. Lila or no Lila, her feelings for Roger were as strong as ever. It killed her that the only thing keeping him from a possible college education was a mean-spirited boss. She'd had enough run-ins with her superiors at the museum to know the kind of pressure he faced. Try as she did, however, she couldn't figure out a way to help him. That's why she decided to betray his confidence and call up someone who might.

On the other side of town, in a corner bedroom of the Fowler mansion, Lila looked out her window and gazed at the twinkling lights of the Sweet Valley houses below. She was racking her brain trying to figure out what she was doing wrong. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew Roger had a crush on her, yet he still hadn't asked her to the Bart dance. So far he'd been resisting all her hints; he'd even turned down an invitation from her. True, her interest in him had been rather sudden, given the way she used to ignore him. But all that was in the past. Everyone had misjudged Roger, and now that he'd won the race and proved he was one of them, things were going to be different. Together she and Roger would be the new golden couple in school, even more popular than the short-lived though spectacular team of Jessica Wakefield and Bruce Patman.

There had to be some way she could ensure that she would be the one on Roger's arm at the dance. But all her efforts had failed, and she had run out of fresh ideas. So she did the only thing left to do. Grabbing the phone off her night table, she quickly dialed a number, tapping one perfectly manicured, frosted fingernail against the receiver as she waited impatiently for an answer.

"Jessica?" she said. "I need your help."

The girl on the other end cut her off. "Lila, it's Liz. Jessica isn't home yet." Thank goodness, Elizabeth wanted to add. Lila Fowler was the last person in the world her sister ought to be talking to at the moment.

"Don't tell me she's working late again."

"Afraid so," Elizabeth said, figuring Lila didn't need to hear the truth from her. "She's very committed to this job."

"I think your sister ought to be committed, period," Lila said huffily. "If she keeps this up, she's not going to have any friends left. What good is having a friend who's not around when you really need her?"

"Jessica hasn't forgotten you, Lila. She should be home soon, and I'll tell her you called. But don't be surprised if you don't hear from her till tomorrow. I have to have a talk with her, too."

"Oh, really? What has she done to you this time, Liz?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth said pointedly. "It's only some family stuff I have to discuss with her." Just then the Wakefields' front door slammed shut. "I've got to go, Lila. See you in school tomorrow."

Elizabeth went downstairs and followed Jessica to their spacious kitchen. She watched from the doorway as Jessica took a glass from one of the cabinets and poured herself some milk. "Have a good time at work tonight?" Elizabeth asked.

Jessica nearly spilled the contents of the milk carton onto the counter. "Elizabeth, you scared me," she gasped. "I didn't know you were standing there." Recovering quickly, however, she leaned against the counter and answered her sister's question. "I had a marvelous time. I hardly even consider it work anymore."

Looking closely at her twin, Elizabeth now realized that the slightly glazed look in Jessica's eyes that she had previously attributed to fatigue after a long day was actually infatuation with this new boy. It was surprising, Elizabeth thought, that she hadn't noticed sooner. She'd certainly seen this expression on Jessica's face enough times to know what it meant. "That stands to reason, Jess. Boys do have a way of making time fly. By the way, what's his name?"

Jessica fidgeted with her glass. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've spent the past six hours in Dad's office."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Elizabeth said. "But I know you weren't there alone."

Jessica continued her charade. "You must be imagining things, Liz."

Elizabeth walked over to the counter and said in a hushed voice, "You can cut the act, Jess. I know all about the boy. And quite honestly I'm a little hurt you haven't told me about him. From what I could see, you two make a lovely couple."

It took all the restraint Jessica could muster not to pour the rest of her milk over her sister's head. "You were spying on me!" she shouted.

Elizabeth put her finger to her lips. "Shh, Mom and Dad might hear." Using the authority that came with having a four-minute head start on life, she ordered, "Finish up your milk and come upstairs with me."