"Could you believe how she was showing off up there on the diving board? Like she was about to execute a triple-flip swan dive or something." Cara lifted herself out of her split.

"And Mark wasn't paying the teeniest bit of attention to her." Jessica snorted. "Until she fell off the edge of the board and into the water on her belly."

Cara doubled over, holding her stomach in helpless laughter, tears pouring from her eyes at the memory. She heard Jessica clearing her throat and wondered if she had gone too far. After all, Jessica had suggested Sandra for the cheering squad. But then Cara saw the large blue sneaker in front of her face. She looked up. There stood Steven Wakefield, the twins' brother. Cara felt her cheeks turn crimson. Steven Wakefield, the boy she'd had a terrific crush on for years and years, was standing there, and she was groveling around on the patio like a snake!

Cara immediately rolled around and sat up.

"Hi, Steve," she murmured, blushing to the roots of her hair.

Steven didn't seem upset by her contortions, Cara decided. She looked more closely and decided he hardly even seemed to know she was there.

"Hi, Steve," Jessica was saying. "What brings you home from college?"

"Huh?" said Steven.

"Cara's going to be back on the cheering squad," Jessica said. "Isn't that great?"

"What?" Steven said, glancing around at Cara. "Oh, sure. I guess so." He hurried into the house.

Jessica frowned. Cara would be just right for Steven, if he would only wake up and stop mooning over Tricia Martin. The whole Martin family was nothing but trouble, the trashiest people in Sweet Valley, and Steven had to be mixed up with them. Elizabeth was constantly telling her that Tricia was a special person, but Jessica knew that one Martin was as bad as another.

"I guess I messed that up, all right," Cara was saying. "Boy! He must think I'm some idiot!"

"He does not," Jessica declared. "He's just-preoccupied. Sooner or later I'll get the two of you together. Just you wait."

Cara glanced toward the house, where Steven had disappeared. She sighed. "Well, I've got to be going. See you at the tryouts." She gathered up her books.

"OK," said Jessica. "And don't worry. It's in the bag."

As Cara disappeared around the side of the house, Jessica hurried inside. She knew that look on her brother's face spelled trouble. She found him in the kitchen, reaching for the telephone.

"What happened?" she inquired.

Steven looked grim. "An accident."

Jessica's heart leaped into her mouth. "What? What kind of accident?"

"Tricia's father," Steven said. "He hit a woman on Palmetto Drive."

"Oh, no!" Jessica cried.

"I've got to call Tricia," Steven said. "She must be really upset."

"Is the woman hurt badly?"

Steven shook his head. "I don't think so, but I don't know for sure. I found out about the accident from a friend of Tricia's. I do know that Mr. Martin's in jail for a few days."

"Jail?" Jessica gasped, horrified.

"He was busted for drunk driving again."

Jessica sank down onto a chair, furious that the Wakefields were in any way associated with the revolting Martin family.

"Oh, Steve," she said, "I told you the Martins were all rotten. For Pete's sake, why don't you let me fix you up with Cara? She's terrific!"

"Knock it off, Jess," Steven said. "Tricia needs me. I've got to get over there." He anxiously began dialing the phone.

Jessica stomped out of the kitchen, feeling only helplessness at her brother's infatuation with Tricia. She couldn't get over the feeling that one day her brother would come to grief because of his love for that girl.

The gym at Sweet Valley High looked like backstage at a Broadway musical casting call as the seventy-five hopefuls showed up for cheerleader tryouts the next afternoon. It was sheer bedlam, girls everywhere dashing around trying cartwheels and cheers, squealing as they greeted each other.

"Wow!" Robin Wilson was wide-eyed. "How are we going to handle this mob?"

"Can you belive it," said Helen Bradley, the bubbly redhead. "You'd think we were giving away Mr. America."

Jessica climbed onto a bench, stuck her whistle in her mouth, and issued a screeching blast. "Attention, everybody," she yelled.

It took a couple more whistle blasts, but finally the crowd quieted down and focused their attention on Jessica.

"I'm Jessica Wakefield, in case anybody doesn't know, and this is Robin Wilson. We're co-captains. This is Helen Bradley and Jean West and Maria Santelli."

The cheerleaders got a nice round of applause, which pleased Jessica. She was happy to see a good turnout of students up in the stands, too, including Helen Bradley's good-looking brother, Tim.

Elizabeth was also there, taking notes for an Oracle story. With her was Enid Rollins.

"I know why you're here." Enid fixed her lovely green eyes on Elizabeth. "To write a story. But why am I here? I know you didn't drag me along to hear who I think does the best splits."

"Quiet, slave," Elizabeth teased. "You're here because I need somebody who can talk about something other than cheerleading."

Back on the floor, Jessica continued her introductions. "Now, girls," she said, "I want you to meet the person we all depend upon, the brains of the organization, the heart and the soul of the squad, and please don't rip his clothes off."

The other cheerleaders were all giggling, knowing what was coming.

"Here he is," said Jessica. "Our manager-Ricky Capaldo."

Ricky Capaldo, his face red as a fire engine, came trotting out from under the stands, giving Jessica a murderous look. Ricky was small and dark and shy, and not what anyone would call handsome. But those who looked closely were sure to notice his warm brown eyes. He put up with a lot of teasing, but all of it was friendly. Even Jessica was fond of him. Ricky carried a clipboard with several sheets of paper on it, a list of all the names of the girls trying out. In a few minutes, he got the girls separated into five groups spread out across the gym.

Jessica's silver whistle blasted again.

"OK, everybody, today's tryout is to pick twenty-five semifinalists. We can already see that it's going to be tough-after all, Sweet Valley High has the most talented and beautiful girls in California."

That got a loud cheer.

"Good luck!" Jessica shouted.

Ricky Capaldo moved swiftly up and down the gym, handing out scoring sheets to Jessica, Robin, Helen, Jean, and Maria. The five members of the squad stood in front of the five groups, showing them the routines and calling out the cheers.

Jessica was in front of the group that included the last part of the alphabet. She saw Cara Walker and winked. Then another face came into her vision, a smiling, eager, beautiful face. Annie Whitman. Jessica turned away. She really had the nerve to show up!

Each girl came forward as her name was called and did the basic Gladiator cheer, the side kicks, the Y-leap, and the final flourish, yelling: "We who are about to win, salute you! Go, Gladiators!"

It didn't take long for the members of the squad to see that the seventy-five aspirants could easily be reduced to about forty. There were the freshmen, who almost never got on the squad, and knew they were practicing for their sophomore year. Then there were the ones who couldn't get off the ground, or tripped and went sprawling, or got stage fright and ran out of the gym.

Cara Walker sailed through the first cheer as if she'd never left the team. Jessica was congratulating herself on coaching her friend when Annie Whitman stepped forward and began her routine.

All that was required for the first routine was a simple cheer, but Annie performed with a grace that made the cheer extra special. She added flourishes and fancy moves that some of the girls on the squad had been working on for months.

"Go, Gladiators!" Annie yelled, leaping through every motion with precision and ease. It was apparent to everyone watching, except perhaps Jessica, that Annie was quite simply the most talented new girl there, and one of the prettiest as well. She finished off by dashing across the floor into two cartwheels and sailing high into a final, breathtaking back flip that made even Maria Santelli proud.

Applause exploded in the gym. Annie, her face flushed with excitement and happiness, returned to her place among the hopefuls, who heaped congratulations upon her. Jessica's face was possibly the only one in the gym that wasn't happy.

The glow of Annie's triumph was still floating in the air when Sandra Bacon jogged to the center of the gym with her group and stepped out to take her turn. Jessica watched her hopefully and was pleased to see Sandy move quite satisfactorily through the cheer.

Ricky Capaldo circulated among the five cheerleaders, collecting the sheets with their choices for the twenty-five semifinalists. Passing Annie, he gave her a broad and encouraging smile.

"Great going, Miss Flashdance," he joked.

Annie blushed prettily.

Ricky made his way through the crowd of eager girls, seated himself on a bench, and began tallying the votes. Cara Walker was in, as was Sandra Bacon, and, of course, Annie Whitman.

"Hey, Jess," said Ricky, "you forgot to put Annie's name on your sheet."

"Who?" said Jessica.

"Annie Whitman. Everybody put her name down. You must have forgotten."

"I didn't forget, Ricky," said Jessica.

Just then, Annie came running up to them, glowing and happy.

"Is that all for today?" she said. "Because I have a date."

I'll bet you have, Jessica thought angrily.

"Yep, that's it," Ricky said warmly. "The list will be posted tomorrow."

Annie flashed a smile at Jessica, then hurried back toward the stands.

Jessica watched her in annoyance. She saw Annie move up the steps to join handsome Tim Bradley.

"But he's a senior, and she's only a sophomore," Jessica muttered. She was mildly interested in Tim herself and had thought he was there to watch her and maybe to buy her a Coke afterward. But there he was, leaving with Easy Annie!

She turned to see Helen sitting beside her, checking the selections.

"You'd better keep an eye on your brother, Helen," Jessica hissed.

"What?" Helen said, looking toward the stands. Tim and Annie were standing close together.

"Do you see who he's with?"

"Annie Whitman?"

"Don't you care if your brother runs around with the school tramp?" Jessica snapped.

Helen Bradley frowned unhappily as she watched Tim and Annie leaving the gym together. "I have heard the rumors," she said.

"They aren't rumors," Jessica said, and to herself she made a vow: Easy Annie will never be on the cheerleading squad, and that's final!

While Jessica watched Tim and Annie, someone had her eye on Jessica. And that someone had a pretty good idea of what was going through Jessica's head. She's really got it in for Annie, Elizabeth thought. And I can't think of a single way to change her mind.

"I want you to know it's been really fantastic talking with you, Liz," Enid joked lightly.

Elizabeth continued staring at Jessica in silence.

"I mean, I'm so glad you brought me along to keep you company."

Still there was no response from Elizabeth.

"Hey! Earth to Wakefield. Come in, Wakefield." Enid practically shouted, giving Elizabeth a gentle poke in the ribs. "Liz, what is the matter? Watching tryouts is supposed to be fun."

"Everything's fine, Enid." Elizabeth forced a small smile. "I mean, I am having fun. Especially watching Annie Whitman. She's terrific, isn't she?"

"Yeah, terrific, Liz, so why that very unterrific look on your face?"

"What look?" Elizabeth asked a little too sharply.

"Like you just saw something black and creepy crawl across the floor or maybe overheard a plot to destroy the world-that look."

Elizabeth giggled. "You're a nut, Enid Rollins."

"That's me all right, old Zany Rollins," Enid said dryly. "Seriously, Liz, you look upset. And you were watching Jessica, not Annie. What's your sister up to this time?"

Enid was all too familiar with Jessica's schemes, having been the target of one of them not too long ago. She wouldn't trust Jessica Wakefield as far as she could throw a truck.

"Oh, you know Jess-always up to something," Elizabeth joked. But inside she was worried. Once Jessica had made up her mind, there was nothing anyone could do to change it.

Four.