Regina's Legacy (Sweet Valley High Book 73)

by Francine Pascal

  "Sure. It's a date," Shelley had agreed. She couldn't stay angry at her boyfriend for long.

  But now, Shelley and the Dairi Burger were the farthest things from Jim's mind. He couldn't believe what chaos the darkroom was in. It was even worse than he'd expected. And it seemed such mindless destruction. Why would anybody do such a thing?

  After an hour of cleaning, there was still a long way to go. It was very discouraging. Several of the enlargers were damaged beyond saving, and there wasn't a single one that didn't need repair. And in addition to prints and negatives being spoiled, many rolls of film that had not been developed yet were ruined, ripped right out of the canisters. Pictures we'll never see, Jim thought sadly.

  It really broke his heart. He felt very protective toward the club. After all, the whole thing was his idea in the first place. And now, it looked like a disaster area. Jim kicked at an empty film canister. "What are we going to do about our photo essay?" he asked.

  Allen shook his head glumly. "We were supposed to be putting it all together a week from now."

  "We're going to have to start from scratch!" wailed Tina.

  "Maybe not," Mr. Marks said, trying to be encouraging. "There may be a lot of stuff here we can salvage. If not prints, at least some of the negatives. Before we panic, let's take a look."

  Jim and the other photography-club members spread the rumpled prints and strips of negatives on the table.

  "Mr. Marks is right. Maybe it's not so bad." Claire held up a few strips of negatives in plastic sleeves. "These are fine. Who took pictures of the tennis team?"

  "Those are mine," said John Pfeifer. "Thanks."

  "And that's what's important," Jim pointed out, his optimism reviving. "It doesn't matter so much if people's prints got messed up, as long as the negatives are OK. We can make new prints from them."

  Patty held up a strip of negatives and frowned. "What if there's a scratch in one? Does that mean it's wrecked? This was one of my favorite pictures."

  "A scratch in a negative will make a white line across the print," answered Jim. "But there's a technique that sometimes works. I'll show you how as soon as the darkroom's back in order."

  The time flew by as they worked. Jim didn't even think to check his watch until five-thirty, and then he remembered: Shelley. He was supposed to have met her at the Dairi Burger an hour ago!

  Jim stowed the negatives and prints he had recovered and rushed out to the student parking lot. He pulled out of the lot, tires squealing. He knew Shelley would be mad, but Jim was sure she would understand when he explained how bad the darkroom situation had turned out to be.

  Jim spotted Shelley as soon as he pulled into the Dairi Burger parking lot. She was just leaving the popular Sweet Valley hangout with Greg Hilliard, a star on the boys' basketball team and Shelley's neighbor and friend since childhood.

  Jim jumped out of his car and hurried to Shelley, who was about to climb into Greg's Jeep. "Hey, Shelley!" Jim called. "You're not leaving, are you?"

  "You bet I'm leaving. I've been hanging around here for hours!"

  "I'm really sorry," Jim said sincerely. "But the darkroom was a mess, and the club had to—"

  Shelley cut him off. "Don't tell me. I'm sure it's top-secret information and you'll be sorry you gave in and revealed it in a moment of weakness."

  Greg laughed and Jim frowned. "I've told you that I'll explain it all soon. Actually, it will explain itself."

  Shelley tossed her head. "I'm really not interested in an explanation. I really couldn't care less!"

  "Please, Shel," Jim cajoled, putting a hand on her arm. "Let's talk. I'll buy you a milkshake."

  "Greg already bought me one." Shelley climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep. "And now we're off to shoot some hoops."

  Jim looked at Greg, who lifted his hands helplessly. "Well, I'll call you later," Jim promised Shelley.

  Shelley didn't reply.

  "So long, Roberts," said Greg as he started the Jeep's engine.

  Jim stared after the Jeep until it was out of sight. Then he shook himself. For a moment, he considered grabbing a burger and a shake. Instead, he returned to his car. He didn't really have much of an appetite.

  Jim supposed he couldn't blame Shelley for being disappointed and angry. He was never happy with himself for letting her down in even the smallest way. But she didn't have to make such a big deal just now. Stomping off with another guy, and Greg Hilliard, of all people. Jim knew that Shelley had had a crush on Greg for a long time before she and Jim became a couple. But Shelley's being with Greg didn't mean anything, did it? Jim realized now that in some ways, he still didn't know Shelley.

  What a lousy day, Jim thought morosely as he pointed his car toward home. The darkroom had gotten vandalized, and suddenly his relationship with Shelley seemed to be in jeopardy, too.

  Seven

  Elizabeth finished loading her family's Saturday-morning breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Then she dialed Todd's phone number.

  "Hi, it's me," she said when he picked up the phone.

  "So, what's the game plan?"

  Holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, Elizabeth hoisted herself up onto the kitchen counter. "I mentioned to Jessica that I needed to find someplace to work since I can't use the darkroom at school. She reminded me that Amy Sutton's father is a free-lance photographer. He has a studio right downtown."

  Elizabeth knew Amy's parents well. When they were children, Elizabeth and Amy were best friends; now, Amy was more Jessica's friend than Elizabeth's.

  "That's great!" exclaimed Todd. "Are you going to give him a call?"

  "I just did," Elizabeth replied. "About half an hour ago. Mr. Sutton was really nice. He's not working today, though. But he said he'd love to help us out. We can come by on Monday after school and use his darkroom."

  "Can you wait until then?" Todd asked.

  Elizabeth didn't really want to. Since the break-in at the Sweet Valley High darkroom, her curiosity was stronger than ever. She couldn't help but feel that there was no time to waste, but they didn't seem to have a choice. In fact, after calling Mr. Sutton, Elizabeth had called all of the commercial darkrooms in the area in the hope that one would be open on the weekend. None were.

  "We don't have much of a choice, do we?" she said. "I'll just have to settle for reading the newspapers and watching the news on TV to see if I can find out anything significant about Ron Hunter and the drug hearing in Washington!"

  Todd laughed. "Let me know if you do. We're still going to Secca Lake today, though, aren't we? I'll pick you up around noon."

  "OK. 'Bye."

  Elizabeth hung up the phone. Before she had a chance to hop down from the counter, it rang again.

  "Hello, I'd like to speak to Jessica," a male voice announced.

  "She's not here," Elizabeth answered. "Can I take a message?"

  "When will she be back?" the caller asked bluntly.

  "I don't really know." At ten, about the time she was phoning Mr. Sutton, Elizabeth had seen her twin dash out of the house, but she had no idea where Jessica was going or when she'd be back. All she knew was that it was unusual for Jessica to be up, let alone leaving the house, that early on a Saturday morning. "I'm not sure if she went out for the whole day or just on an errand. If you give me your phone number—"

  "No. I'll try her later. Tell her Chad called."

  Elizabeth couldn't say much for Jessica's latest admirer's phone manners, but she made an effort to be polite. "I'll tell her. Chad . . ."

  Elizabeth paused, expecting Chad to fill in the blank with his last name. He hung up on her instead.

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth replaced the receiver. She didn't know where Jessica found some of the guys she dated. This one sounded like a real jerk.

  Elizabeth crossed the kitchen on her way to the hallway and the stairs. At that moment, Jessica burst into the kitchen. "Amy and I got all the way to Lila's before I realized I'd left the goop in the fridge!"

  El
izabeth watched as her sister removed a covered mixing bowl from the refrigerator. "Goop?"

  "For our hair," Jessica explained. "Amy found the recipe in a magazine. It's going to give us great highlights."

  Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. She was familiar with the nutty beauty treatments Jessica and her friends experimented with. "I'm afraid to ask, but I will anyway. What's in it?"

  "Mayonnaise, lemon juice, mashed avocado, and beer. Don't worry," Jessica assured Elizabeth. "Dad gave me permission to use the beer any way I wanted as long as I didn't drink it!"

  "Ugh. Better you than me!"

  Bowl in hand, Jessica started to head back out. "Hold on, Jess," Elizabeth called after her. "Before I forget, I just took a call for you."

  "Yeah? From who?"

  "A guy named Chad."

  Jessica gave an excited hop. "Really? What did he say?"

  "Not much," Elizabeth replied. "He sounded pretty eager to talk to you, though."

  "Did he leave his number?"

  "No. He said he'd call back."

  "Do me a favor," said Jessica. "If Chad calls again while I'm at Lila's, give him her phone number, OK?"

  "Will do," Elizabeth promised. "So, who is this guy, anyway?"

  Jessica lifted her chin. "I'm sure you don't have time to hear about a trivial thing like my love life," she said airily. "Don't you have some film you need to develop or a dinner party to attend?"

  Elizabeth laughed. "Spill the beans. I have time now, really."

  "Well, I don't!" Turning on her heel, Jessica breezed out of the kitchen. "Ta-ta, Liz!"

  Heading upstairs to put on her bathing suit, Elizabeth thought briefly about this mysterious Chad. She knew her twin would relent and give her the whole scoop one of these days. For Jessica, half the fun of meeting a wonderful guy was talking about him.

  When she got to her bedroom, Elizabeth took the photograph of the three men on the beach out of her purse. If only she could read the lettering on the blond man's T-shirt! If only Monday wasn't two whole days away!

  The instant the final bell rang on Monday, Elizabeth sprinted for Todd's locker. "Come on!" she cried, grabbing her boyfriend's arm. "Let's beat the rush leaving the parking lot."

  "Whoa! Can't I even get the books I need for my homework tonight?"

  "Nope."

  "But, Liz—"

  "I'm kidding about the books," she told him and smiled. "But I'm not kidding about being in a hurry!"

  Todd grinned. "All right. I'm ready. Lead the way!"

  Tugging Todd's hand, Elizabeth led him to the car. Todd put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened.

  "Don't do this to me," he said under his breath. He turned the key again. Still nothing.

  "Quit kidding around!" Elizabeth begged.

  "I'm not kidding," Todd protested. "It won't start."

  Elizabeth wanted to scream. She had had to wait all weekend to go to Mr. Sutton's darkroom and enlarge the photograph. Now it looked as if she might not get there today, either.

  She bounced impatiently in her seat. "Why won't it start? Can't you do something?"

  "I'm trying! I think there's something wrong with one of the ignition coils. I usually manage to get it going eventually. I guess I'll have to take it back to the dealership for some work. At least it's still under warranty."

  Just as Elizabeth thought she would explode, Todd turned the key one more time, and the engine rumbled slowly into life. Todd gave her the thumbs-up sign. "Here we go!"

  It was just as well Todd was driving, Elizabeth thought as they headed downtown. She would have had a hard time staying within the speed limit.

  Todd parked the BMW on Main Street in front of Mr. Sutton's photography studio. The two hurried inside.

  Mr. Sutton, who was working at a light table, looked up as Elizabeth and Todd entered. "Hi there, Liz. Nice to see you again!"

  "Hello, Mr. Sutton. Do you know Todd Wilkins?"

  Mr. Sutton shook Todd's hand. "Of course. Everyone knows the star of the Sweet Valley High basketball team!"

  "Thanks for letting us come by," Elizabeth said. "I hope this isn't an inconvenience for you."

  "Not at all," Mr. Sutton assured her. "The darkroom's all yours. Help yourself to anything and everything and just give a holler if you need help."

  From Elizabeth's point of view, the arrangement was perfect. She had hoped to get away without showing the photograph of the three men to Mr. Sutton, and it appeared that he wasn't going to ask any questions about her urgent project.

  "What should I do?" Todd asked Elizabeth as she prepared to make the enlargement.

  "Just cross your fingers."

  Focusing the enlarger, she zeroed in on the three men. Then she exposed the eight-by-ten print, timing it by the second hand on her watch.

  She and Todd both held their breath as the print developed. "It's done," Elizabeth announced. "Now for the stop bath, and the fixer, and the rinse." After that was finished, she lifted the print from the last basin. "Let's take a look!"

  Together they peered at the still-wet photograph. The lettering on the T-shirt was clearer, but still not clear enough. "I can't read it," Todd confessed.

  "Me neither," said Elizabeth, overcome with a wave of disappointment.

  Todd put an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, don't give up. You said it to me in the car just now—keep trying."

  "You're right!" Elizabeth gave Todd a quick kiss. "If I can get the T-shirt a little bigger, I'm sure we'll be able to make out what it says."

  Once again, she focused carefully. She was making another eight-by-ten, but this time the figure of the blond man in the T-shirt took up the entire print. "This has to do it!" Elizabeth said hopefully as she slipped the exposed paper into the developer.

  This time, her disappointment was so intense it almost hurt. "It's still not clear enough."

  Todd shook his head. "I think you've done all you can, Liz."

  Elizabeth clutched the print, straining her eyes as hard as she could. Why did the lettering on the T-shirt have to be so elusive?

  "And even if we could read it," Todd continued, "what's the chance the lettering would even mean anything to us?"

  The chance was slim, Elizabeth knew that, but it was there. "I'm going to try one more time. At the maximum enlargement."

  "Go for it!" Todd cheered.

  It has to work, it has to work, Elizabeth told herself. She centered the variable focus lens on the T-shirt and twisted the knob that raised and lowered the enlarger. The chant went on in Elizabeth's brain as she timed the exposure. It has to work, it has to work. . . .

  Elizabeth immersed the exposed paper in the developer. They waited. Slowly, the photograph darkened, sharpened. The lettering on the T-shirt sprang to life. It was legible!

  Elizabeth rushed the print to the stop bath. "It worked!" she cried. "Just barely, but look!"

  Todd gazed over Elizabeth's shoulder. He squinted, then read, " 'Rick's Place'. That's what it says. 'Rick's Place'," he repeated. "Does that ring a bell with you?"

  "No," admitted Elizabeth.

  "It's not much to go on."

  "But it's a start!" Elizabeth declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  As soon as she had finished processing the print, Elizabeth scooped up the still-wet photos. "Come on!"

  "Now where are you dragging me?"

  "To the nearest telephone book."

  In the outer office, Elizabeth and Todd thanked Mr. Sutton and said goodbye. "He probably had a phone book," Todd pointed out as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

  "I know, but I really want to keep this to ourselves. There's a pay phone across the street!"

  A fat Yellow Pages was chained inside the phone booth. "What do you think?" Elizabeth asked as she riffled quickly through the volume. "A store? A bar or restaurant?"

  "Look under restaurants," Todd suggested. "Rick's Place sounds like it would be a bar."

  Elizabeth turned to the restaurant section. N, O, P, Q, R .
. . She stared at the page. "You were right!" Elizabeth was breathless with excitement. "Rick's Place. Here it is!"

  Todd scanned the Yellow Pages advertisement. "It's a restaurant in Big Mesa."

  Elizabeth took a pen from her purse and quickly jotted the address of Rick's Place on a page corner she tore out of the phone book.

  "I hope the food's good," she told Todd. "Because we're going to Rick's Place for dinner tonight!"

  "Do you think we'll find out anything there?"

  "Probably not," Elizabeth conceded. "I suppose it's a long shot that the blond guy or either of the other men from the beach will be there. But it's worth a try!"

  Eight

  Jessica got home from cheerleading practice that afternoon at five-thirty. The Wakefield house was quiet. Prince Albert was the only one around to greet her.

  And Mom and Dad won't be home until late, Jessica remembered, seeing the note on the refrigerator. Mr. Wakefield was an attorney, and they were having dinner with a client of his. Boring, boring, boring, Jessica thought as she grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator and a bag of chips from the cupboard and started out to sit by the pool in the late-afternoon sun.

  The phone rang, stopping her in her tracks. Jessica backed up. "Hello," she said, her mouth full of potato chips.

  "Is this Jessica?"

  Jessica's heart did a back handspring, and she almost swallowed the chips whole. She recognized that sexy voice. "This is Jessica."

  "Jessica, it's Chad."

  "Chad!" Jessica exclaimed. Then she calmed herself and tried to sound cool. "I got the message that you called a couple of days ago. I was wondering if I'd hear from you again."

  "You're hearing from me," he said with a husky laugh. "I've been kind of busy, but I didn't plan to let you get away."

  This was exactly what Jessica wanted to hear. When Chad hadn't called back on Saturday or on Sunday, she had been more than a little worried that he had lost interest.

  "Jessica, I want to see you."

  Chad was so direct, so intense. Jessica felt tingly with anticipation. "You do?"

  "Yeah. How about tonight? I really hope you're free."

  Jessica was excited by Chad's eagerness. "As a matter of fact, I am."