Ms. Jacobi took off her glasses and looked closely at Amy. "It isn't an easy place to work, Amy. Some young people need a lot of support. But I think you'll learn to value the time you put in at the clinic." She pulled a pad of paper before her and began to write. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to call Kathy Henry, who heads up the clinic, and tell her that I've told you to drop by tomorrow afternoon. The clinic is called Project Youth, and it's right downtown. Here's all the information you'll need," she said, handing Amy a piece of paper.
Amy nodded. She was eager to leave the classroom and Ms. Jacobi's earnest eyes. "Thanks," she said, stuffing the slip of paper into her bag and turning away.
She could hardly believe she had gotten herself into such a situation. Project Youth? Well, right now, anything was better than failing sociology!
Amy didn't want to think too hard about what it would be like to volunteer at the clinic. In fact, what she really wanted right now was some company. Maybe Jessica would go with her to the mall.
She found Jessica at her locker, digging furiously in search of her math book. "Wow, what a pigpen," Amy said. Her voice was full of false cheer as she inspected her friend's messy locker.
Jessica turned around and scowled. "Amy, do you mind? I happen to be in a hurry."
Amy felt stung. She really had not intended to say anything nasty about the state of Jessica's locker. The words had just sort of flown out. "I wanted to know . . ." She shifted her books. "I was just wondering if you felt like going shopping."
Jessica shook her head. "Sorry, but I've got a dentist's appointment, and I'm already late for it." She took hold of the locker door, slammed it shut, and raced off without a backward glance. Amy bit her lip.
OK, she told herself brightly. She would go home and wait for her mother to arrive from the TV station. Maybe they could go to the mall together before dinner.
On her way home, Amy thought uneasily about Jessica's brush-off. It had not made her feel very good, particularly coming right after her meeting with Ms. Jacobi. I need something new and really nice in my life, she thought. An image of Tom McKay appeared in her mind's eye. Amy had never had a boyfriend, not a real one. She had dates all the time, but never anything really steady. Even Amy's relationship with Bruce Patman, though long-term, had not been true love, nothing like the relationship Elizabeth Wakefield had with Todd Wilkins. Maybe it was time for a change.
The Suttons lived in a pretty, mission-style house on a tree-lined street in central Sweet Valley. Amy opened the front door and called hello. No one answered. That was not unusual. Her father was a freelance photographer and he was often hard at work in his darkroom at the back of the house. Maybe he had gone to his office downtown to finish developing some prints. In any case, he was not around and Amy knew her mother probably would not be home for a while yet.
Amy wandered around the house, looking for a diversion. She turned on the TV but the late-afternoon soaps bored her today. "There's nothing to do here," she grumbled. She sat down on the couch and stared out the window. She felt awful, really down in the dumps. This was not like her!
"Hey, when did you get home?" Mr. Sutton exclaimed as he came into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel. He smelled of the chemicals he used to develop photographs.
Amy mustered up a grin. "Ten minutes ago, I guess."
Mr. Sutton was a handsome man in his mid-forties, his dark hair just streaked at the sides with gray. "I got some great news today from my agent," he told her proudly. "The contract with the publishers has been finalized. I can go ahead with my book!" Mr. Sutton had been working for several years on a collection of his photographs.
"Daddy, that's wonderful!" Amy jumped up to give him a hug. "When will the book be published?"
"Oh, not for ages, sometime next year probably. And now that I know it'll definitely be published, there's a lot of revision work I want to do. I'm really not satisfied with the first part at all. In fact, that's what I was working on all afternoon. I'm rewriting the introduction, trying to get a sense of how it's going to look in print."
Amy tried to smile at her father's enthusiasm. He sounded just like a kid on his birthday. "I'm really happy for you, Dad," she repeated. The truth was, she felt a bit jealous, left out. She thought her voice sounded a little hollow, but if it did, Mr. Sutton didn't notice.
"Listen, your mother called, and she's going to have to work a little late tonight. Maybe you and I could order a pizza later, OK?"
"Won't she be home for dinner?" Amy demanded.
"I'm not sure. I think a game had to be rescheduled, something like that. She didn't say when she'd be home." Mr. Sutton looked as though he was dying to get back to his darkroom.
"Maybe I could make dinner. We could wait until Mom gets home and all eat together," Amy suggested.
"Sure, if that's what you feel like doing," Mr. Sutton replied.
Amy nodded. "Go on back to work, Daddy. Let me see what I can come up with."
One of the golden rules in the Sutton household was that the family always tried to have dinner together. Though Amy was the first to grumble when she had a date to get ready for, she really did like the tradition. Amy was a little surprised when her father so casually dismissed the issue tonight. Well, she had changed his mind. She would go ahead and make dinner for all of them.
Amy poked unhappily through her mother's cookbooks. None of the recipes looked terribly easy to follow.
It was obvious that Amy's mother had not been to the store for several days. But Amy found a package of chicken in the freezer. There was also a bottle of barbecue sauce in the refrigerator. How hard could it be to grill chicken? As she washed some lettuce for a salad, Amy felt a few loyal pangs toward her parents. Though she grumbled about her mother's not being home all the time, Amy really was proud of her mother's career. How many other kids could boast having a TV sportscaster for a mother? And her father's news about his book was pretty wonderful, too.
While she worked in the kitchen, Amy wondered if Tom McKay would like her parents. She was sure they would like him. He was exactly the kind of guy she imagined they would want her to go out with.
Her thoughts were interrupted at seven-thirty when the back door burst open and her mother came in. "Hi, sweetheart! Sorry I'm late," her mother said. She stopped short when she saw her daughter surrounded by plates and pots. "You're cooking dinner! Don't you have homework to do?"
Amy remembered Ms. Jacobi and her stomach felt funny. "No. I'm all through, Mom, and I wanted to help out."
"Well, thanks, sweetheart. That's nice of you," her mother said, flipping through the mail. "Anything new at school?"
"No, not really." Amy wished there was something exciting she could tell her mother. She certainly couldn't tell her about volunteering at Project Youth when she was only doing it to make up for flunking a paper!
"I'm exhausted," her mother continued, slipping out of her suit jacket. "We had the craziest day at the station! Let me go upstairs and change, and I'll help you with dinner," she added, looking at the platter of chicken Amy was getting ready to take out to the grill.
Amy was glad she had started dinner. It made her feel as though she was contributing something at home. Sometimes it was hard having parents who were so accomplished. Amy was often asked what it was like to be Dyan Sutton's daughter and she always came up with good answers. She boasted about the famous people her mother knew, that sort of thing. But she also felt kind of pressured. Her mother was a very glamorous woman, and she seemed to have her life in perfect control. Amy's father adored her, they had lots of friends and a great social life, in addition to her career. Amy could not imagine herself ever having it all together the way her mother did.
Mr. Sutton came into the kitchen. "Let me help you with that, Amy," he said, following her out to the grill in the backyard. He inspected the chicken on the platter. "Did you defrost the chicken?"
Amy squinted at the chicken. Come to think of it, it had felt a little icy when she had pain
ted it with barbecue sauce. But she was sure the pieces would thaw fast enough once on the grill. "Of course, Daddy," she said reproachfully.
"OK, then. Looks as if you have everything set here. I'll go say hi to your mother."
Amy barely heard him. She frowned down at the chicken pieces, which looked more and more like red-coated blocks of ice. "I hope this works," she muttered as she tossed the first piece onto the flaming barbecue.
"I think we ought to make a toast," Mrs. Sutton said as she pulled a chair up to the patio table that was set for dinner. She beamed at her husband. "Congratulations, sweetheart. Here's to the most talented photographer I know!"
"Here, here," Amy echoed.
"Amy," her father said as he tried to cut into a chicken breast, "are you sure you defrosted this. It seems a little . . ."
Amy reddened. "I told you I did, Daddy," she said fiercely. She knew she was being defensive, but she could not help but feel hurt. After all the work she had put into getting dinner together for them tonight, why did he have to be so critical?
Mrs. Sutton took a tiny bite of her piece, then switched rapidly to her salad. "Delicious salad, Amy," she said.
Amy sat back in her seat. She felt miserable. It was a relief when her parents went back to discussing their work. At least for a while it was.
Mrs. Sutton described how hectic and how exciting her day had been. Through her hard work and ingenuity, the network had wrangled an interview with Stan Maverick, the hottest rookie for the Pistols. She had been on the phone with a million different people, settling the details. "But it was thrilling," she added, her blue eyes sparkling. "And I got to talk to Stan for several minutes. He promised he'd try to get me an interview with the team's coach."
Amy's father hung on his wife's every word. He obviously thought she was brilliant and fascinating, and who could blame him? Why bother listening to Amy when he could listen to Dyan Sutton instead?
Next, Mrs. Sutton pumped her husband for information about his book contract. Mr. Sutton was usually fairly reticent about the business side of his work, but tonight he could not squelch his excitement. "It's incredible. I might actually see royalties from this project. The publisher wants to do a big promotional tour. I may have to go to New York next month to meet with my editor."
Mrs. Sutton's eyes lit up. "That's great! I think I may go to New York, too. There's a media and sports conference I should attend. Maybe we can combine the two trips!"
Great, Amy thought, pushing her inedible chicken from one side of the plate to the other. That was just great. Maybe they should just stay in New York and forget all about her. She felt about as interesting as the half-frozen chicken in front of her.
As if on cue, both her parents looked at each other, then turned to Amy.
"It was very thoughtful of you to make dinner tonight, Amy," her mother said.
"We haven't heard about your day," her father added.
Amy thought fast. "You know what happened that was really funny?" she asked rhetorically. "Remember those two guys I told you about, the guys who both said I was cute?" Her parents looked at her expectantly, and Amy went on. "Ralph Woodley is one of them, and the other is A. J. Morgan, Jessica's ex-boyfriend. I know I've told you about them," she added nervously.
"I don't think so." Mrs. Sutton's face was blank.
"Well, in art class, Ralph wanted to sit on the stool next to me, and so did A.J. They argued for about five minutes before the teacher told them to cut it out." Amy giggled at the memory. Neither parent commented and she added, "See, they both wanted to be near me, and if the teacher hadn't stepped in they would have kidded around the whole class long!"
"They must have annoyed your art teacher," Mr. Sutton said dryly.
Mrs. Sutton didn't say a word. Amy felt terrible. She was failing sociology, her best friends were angry with her, and her parents seemed happier ignoring her. What else could go wrong?
"Amy? Can I come in?" Mrs. Sutton knocked gently on Amy's door. It was ten-thirty, and Amy was trying to read her history assignment for the next day. But none of it was really sinking in. It was hard to concentrate after such a bad day, and she was very sleepy.
"Sure, Mom." When Amy was younger she loved the before-bed talks with her mother. She felt nostalgic now as her mother crossed the room and sat down on the bed. Mrs. Sutton smiled fondly at her daughter.
"Amy, we haven't talked seriously in a long time. I know it's really my fault. I'm always so busy at work. So I hope you don't think I'm interfering now," her mother said softly. "But I've been thinking about you a lot lately. You have some big decisions to make in the very near future. And at dinner tonight it struck me that maybe you haven't been thinking very seriously about them. College isn't all that far away. You'll start applying in the fall. Have you given any thought to what you want to be, or where you want to go?"
Amy opened her mouth as if to speak. But before she could answer, her mother continued. "I think it's time for you to get more serious about your life, Amy. Your father thinks so, too. It's great to fool around and have fun, but there's more to life than that. Don't you think it's time to focus yourself a little? To ask yourself some important questions?"
Amy felt a lump forming in her throat.
"I just want you to be happy," her mother continued. She took one of Amy's hands and stroked it. "I'd like to see you a little more . . . decisive, I suppose. I don't mean to sound harsh. You know I want your happiness more than anything else."
Amy choked back tears. "Thanks, Mom. I'll . . . uh, I'll think about it." Mrs. Sutton kissed Amy's cheek and left the room.
Great. On top of failing sociology, and not doing too well in any of her other classes, her mother was going to start pressuring her. That is, when she wasn't ignoring her.
Obviously, her parents were suddenly so concerned because of the story she had told them at dinner. They knew Amy rarely went out with the same guy twice. If she had a boyfriend, they would be sure to take her more seriously. They would see her as more grown-up.
That was it, an easy place to start. She would find herself a serious boyfriend, one her parents would be impressed with. Someone popular and talented, just like them. Someone like—Tom McKay.
Amy was resolved. She would make Tom hers and the rest of her growing up would follow.
Three
On Tuesday, Elizabeth could hardly wait to see Enid at lunchtime. "Hi, stranger!" she said cheerfully as she slid into the seat next to her friend. Winston Egbert, unofficial clown of the junior class, was sitting with Enid, as were Maria Santelli, Winston's girlfriend, and Todd Wilkins. Elizabeth had hardly seen Enid in the past two days.
"Where have you been? I bet you've been busy planning what you're going to do with that fabulous cousin of yours when he gets here," Elizabeth teased.
Jake Farrell, Enid's cousin from San Francisco, was coming to visit Sweet Valley. Enid had just gotten the news last week, and she was very excited. Jake was a legend in her family, and if he lived up to all reports, Elizabeth knew his visit was going to be exciting.
"Mom and I have been doing some heavy-duty cleaning. You know how mothers get when houseguests are coming." Enid rolled her eyes. "So I've had to spend every spare minute catching up on homework. I spent yesterday's lunch period in the library! Honestly, if Mom finds one more thing to clean, I'm going to call Jake and beg him to come right now instead of this weekend!"
Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "So he's coming this weekend?" As of the last report, Jake had not known when he could get away. He was a serious tennis player, with a chance to join the pro circuit next year, and his coach was strict about letting him take time off from his practice schedule.
"Yeah. Jake finally talked his coach into letting him come visit. And it's a long weekend for us, remember? We have Monday off because of the teachers' conference." Enid's green eyes shone. "I can hardly believe he's really going to be here. You guys are going to just adore him," she promised. "He's smart, he's funny, he's cool. He's go
t a real presence. Everybody likes him."
Elizabeth laughed. "Well, Jessica is a fan of his already. That picture of Jake you showed her last week really bowled her over."
"Well, he is cute," Enid said loyally. "At least he was the last time I saw him, when he was fifteen. And I'm sure two years have only made him cuter."
"I can hardly wait to meet this paragon, this demigod," Winston said drolly. "Maybe we should have a parade in his honor."
"Oh, you," Maria said playfully. "You just don't like having to share the attention around here."
"Yeah. I've noticed Elizabeth's sister isn't drooling over my picture," Winston said in a voice of mock-sorrow.
Everyone laughed and Maria pretended to pummel him.
"Seriously, we ought to think about planning some fun things to do this weekend," Enid said.
"Later." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes across the lunchroom. "Don't look now but Jessica and Lila are headed this way. And if I know my sister, she's not going to be able to restrain herself from asking you about Jake!"
Jessica and Lila strolled by a moment later. They each wore an air of assumed nonchalance that made Enid and Elizabeth giggle.
"Hi, Liz," Jessica called out coyly.
"Hi, Jess," Elizabeth answered, hiding her amusement. Jessica had always considered Enid Rollins too sedate for words, and waiting for her twin to invent an excuse for joining their table now was pretty funny.
"Hey, Enid," Lila said, stopping abruptly as if the thought had just occurred to her. "That cousin of yours—what's his name again—Drake, Blake. . . ."
"Jake."
"Oh, yeah! Jake!" Lila and Jessica each grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the table. "Jake. I love that name," Lila drawled. "So, when do we get to meet him?"
Amy's True Love (Sweet Valley High Book 75) Page 2
