Elizabeth bit her lip. She wanted to help Enid, but she felt that confiding in Mrs. Rollins about George wouldn't be fair. "I'm afraid I really can't help you very much," she said truthfully. "I've been worried about Enid, too. I kept feeling that she ought to be more eager to get better. And I could tell that for some reason she preferred to act as if it was all out of her hands. But I really can't tell you why she's behaving this way."

  "I tried to reach George, too," Mrs. Rollins continued. "But his mother told me that he'd taken a few days off from school and gone on a camping trip. She said he wanted to be by himself for a while. The poor boy. I think all the pressure must really be getting to him."

  Elizabeth didn't say anything. I wonder if George told Enid he was going, she mused. Elizabeth was beginning to think she had a pretty good idea why Enid wasn't allowing herself to get better. But she couldn't tell Mrs. Rollins about it. She wasn't positive, but she thought it might have something to do with George and Robin.

  I wonder who I could talk to about it? she asked herself. Her parents didn't seem right.

  Then she thought of Mr. Collins. He had always given her good advice in the past. Maybe she could call him and go over to his house before dinner. At least she could sound him out on the ideas she was tossing around.

  Because if Enid really did have a mental block, Elizabeth told herself, she had to think of some way of helping her friend get over it. She couldn't bear to think of Enid staying in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

  "Elizabeth Wakefield!" Mr. Collins said, opening his front door. "It's good to see you. Come on in," he urged, leading the way down his front hall to the living room. "So, what can I do for you?"

  "Well, I—" Elizabeth didn't get much further than that before she was accosted by Teddy, Mr. Collins's six-year-old son. Mr. Collins was divorced from his wife, and he had taken full responsibility for the adorable boy who was now hurling himself at Elizabeth's legs.

  "Whoa!" Elizabeth cried, disentangling herself and giving Teddy a huge hug. "You're getting bigger all the time," she told him, rumpling his hair.

  "Nora!" Mr. Collins called. "Elizabeth Wakefield is here!"

  The door to the kitchen opened, and Nora Dalton came out, a white apron over her pretty flowered dress. Elizabeth blushed. She had sensed that something was starting between Mr. Collins and Ms. Dalton, but she hadn't expected to find the pretty French teacher in Mr. Collins's home.

  "Nora and I are brainstorming this afternoon," Mr. Collins told her, taking out a pipe and lighting it. "We're trying to think of a good idea for a junior class fund-raiser. What do you think, Liz? Any suggestions?"

  Ms. Dalton laughed. "Liz didn't come over here to get dragged into this, Roger. Maybe you should find out why she came."

  "But I'd love to help you!" Elizabeth protested.

  "Another time." Mr. Collins smiled. "Ms. Dalton's right. What brings you over here, Liz? Is anything wrong?"

  Elizabeth took the chair he offered her and sighed heavily. "As a matter of fact, I came to ask your advice about Enid Rollins."

  "I thought that might be it," Mr. Collins said. "Still no progress, huh?"

  "Dr. MacGregor thinks she has a psychological block," Elizabeth told him. "He thinks she's able to walk but just won't let herself."

  "That's interesting," Mr. Collins mused. "What do you think, Liz? Any ideas on why she wouldn't want to get better?"

  Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth told her favorite teacher all about George and Robin. She knew she could trust Mr. Collins, and his relaxed, friendly manner kept her from feeling silly about troubling him with this kind of problem. "Enid said something to me last week about the whole thing," she concluded. "She said George would never leave her for Robin as long as she was in this condition."

  "So you think she's deliberately keeping herself from walking so she won't lose George?"

  Elizabeth nodded. "Or if not deliberately, she's unconsciously doing the same thing. I think she's afraid that as soon as she's better, she won't have any hold over George. And she's afraid of what will happen when that occurs."

  "I think that's very perceptive of you," Ms. Dalton said. "You've got a pretty keen understanding of human nature, Liz."

  Elizabeth blushed. "Jessica gave me the idea, really," she said. "And I have to admit it seems like the most logical explanation."

  "What do you think can be done for Enid?" Mr. Collins asked.

  Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I've got one idea, but it's kind of a long shot," she told him. "I'd feel too stupid explaining it right now."

  "Nothing wrong with that!" Mr. Collins laughed. "I feel that way about our fund-raiser right now."

  "Mr. Collins," Elizabeth asked suddenly, leaning forward on her chair, "can I ask you for a huge favor?"

  "Sure, Liz. What is it?"

  "I don't suppose," Elizabeth began, "I could borrow Teddy one afternoon after school this week?"

  "Borrow him?" Mr. Collins burst out laughing. "What do you mean?"

  "You know." Elizabeth shrugged. "Bring him home with me and pretend I'm baby-sitting for him. Would that be OK?"

  "You're more than welcome to," Mr. Collins told her. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with this mysterious plan of yours?"

  Elizabeth smiled. "It does," she admitted. "And if I can pull this off, Teddy just may be able to help me get Enid out of that wheelchair once and for all!"

  Jessica got home from her cooking class Monday just before dinner. She was still feeling sulky after what had happened the previous night. What a bunch of ingrates, she thought. Can I help it if the mussels were bad? You'd think I poisoned them all on purpose!

  Cooking class had only cheered her up a little. It was the last lesson, and Jean-Pierre had handed her a diploma and given her a special smile.

  "You," he told her, "are my prize student. You must come back again."

  So there, Jessica thought. At least he didn't think she was a failure.

  But not even Jean-Pierre's praise cheered her up very much. She'd heard from one of the other students in the class that Lizbette couldn't even bake brownies. I guess he doesn't find cooking ability all that attractive in women, Jessica thought sadly. I should have had him over to dinner last night.

  The thing to do, Jessica told herself, was to make sure the dinner she was planning for Friday night would be perfect. She already had a revised menu planned—veal piccata, string beans, wild rice, and raspberry torte for dessert. There was no way anything in that could make them sick, she thought triumphantly. And then they'd change their minds about her cooking ability.

  "Want some help with dinner?" she called to her mother, who was setting the table.

  Mrs. Wakefield burst out laughing. "No, thanks," she said dryly. "I was at half-mast all day today. I think I'd better stick to chicken soup tonight."

  "I couldn't help it," Jessica said indignantly. "How was I supposed to—"

  "Jess," Mrs. Wakefield said fondly, "I was only teasing you. You shouldn't be so sensitive."

  I'm never allowed to be the sensitive one, Jessica thought moodily, dragging her feet as she went up to her bedroom. It's different for Liz. Everyone expects her to be sensitive. She's the one who cares about what people say and is incredibly thoughtful all the time.

  But Friday night would change everything, she thought. Elizabeth hadn't said a word about their parents' anniversary, and Jessica was convinced she'd forgotten it. So for once, she, Jessica, would be the good, loving daughter. As far as she was concerned, she'd fouled up for the last time.

  Twelve

  Wednesday evening the Wakefields went out for Mexican food in downtown Sweet Valley. "Just think." Mr. Wakefield grinned. "A few nights ago I thought I'd never want to eat again, and now I'm actually looking forward to enchiladas!"

  "Ha-ha-ha," Jessica said bitterly. She was sick and tired of being teased about the food-poisoning incident. Couldn't anyone in the family find anything else to talk about?

  "What's wrong, Liz?" You look kind of down in the dumps," Mrs. Wakefield said, after the waiter had taken their order.

  "Oh, it's nothing," Elizabeth said. "I'm just a little worried about Enid, I guess."

  "Has anything changed since she saw Dr. MacGregor on Monday?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. "Still the same old thing. The psychiatrist at the hospital is positive Enid has a mental block. And until she overcomes it, she won't be able to walk. But Enid refuses to talk about it with anyone. She swears she'll never get better."

  "It's that jerk George Warren's fault," Jessica remarked. "She's just afraid he'll run off with Robin the minute she gets better. And I don't blame her, either. He's been seeing Robin behind Enid's back since the accident, so why wouldn't he run off as soon as he could manage not to look like a total bum?"

  "Jessica," Mrs. Wakefield hissed. "We're in a restaurant. Can't you keep your voice down?"

  "Why?" Jessica asked innocently. "I'm only telling the truth."

  "How do you know George is still seeing Robin?" Mr. Wakefield asked Jessica.

  "Because he is," Jessica said calmly. "Everyone knows it."

  "But how does everyone know it?" Mr. Wakefield pressed her.

  "Daddy, I'm not testifying in court. You don't have to look so serious."

  "But it's a serious matter, Jess," her father said soberly. "Suppose someone overheard what you said about George. If it isn't true, he might accuse you of slander."

  "Oh, Daddy," Jessica said, "it is true. Lila and I saw George's car parked in front of Robin's house the day after the accident. It was perfectly obvious what was going on!"

  "I'm afraid she's right, Dad." Elizabeth sighed. "But in any case, Enid seems oblivious to the whole thing. She won't talk about it, anyway. And she refuses to admit it has anything to do with her inability to walk."

  "It's such a shame," Mrs. Wakefield said. "If it were one of you girls, I'd—well, I don't know what I'd do."

  "Well, I think George is a selfish slob," Jessica announced.

  "Jess," Mrs. Wakefield said warningly.

  "He is!" Jessica shrieked indignantly. "How can he do this to the poor girl! I think it's horrible."

  "You know," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, "a few weeks ago I would have agreed with you, Jess. But the more I've seen of the situation, the more I sympathize with George. I don't think Enid means to be manipulative, but that's just what she's being. George tried to level with her, and she refused to listen. To be honest, I feel kind of sorry for him."

  "That-a-girl!" Mr. Wakefield laughed. "I knew I could count on you to be objective, Liz."

  Jessica was losing her appetite. Thanks a lot, Liz, she thought silently. Make me look horrible, as usual. She shot Elizabeth her meanest scowl, but her twin wasn't paying attention.

  "On a happier subject," she was saying, "you two have an anniversary coming up, don't you?" Elizabeth's blue-green eyes were twinkling.

  Oh, God, Jessica thought, slumping in her chair. Now I'm completely ruined!

  "I thought you two had forgotten!" Mrs. Wakefield said, smiling.

  "I wanted to surprise you both, but I'm afraid if I wait any longer you'll make plans," Elizabeth continued, taking two tickets out of her purse. "How do you feel about a night on the town this Friday?"

  "Two tickets to Bayside!" Mrs. Wakefield exclaimed. "Liz, what a wonderful idea! We haven't been there in ages. Do you remember, Ned, the wonderful dinner-theater evening they put on?"

  "But I was going to surprise you with a gourmet dinner Friday night!" Jessica wailed.

  Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield exchanged amused glances. "It's probably just as well." Mr. Wakefield grinned. "That's terribly sweet of you, Jess, but I'm not sure I'll be fully recovered from Sunday night by then."

  Jessica's lower lip trembled. What a bunch of jerks I've got for a family, she thought. How could they possibly blame her for a stupid accident like that? And she'd slaved on the menu for Friday night! "It was going to be so perfect," she said mournfully, barely realizing she'd spoken aloud.

  "Maybe you could make us dinner Saturday night," Mrs. Wakefield suggested, shaking her head at her husband.

  "Forget it," Jessica muttered. "It wouldn't be the same."

  The whole point of the dinner was ruined now. As usual, Elizabeth had come out of the whole thing smelling like a rose. And Jessica—Well, I guess I'm just the thorn, Jessica thought miserably.

  "Look, food's here," Elizabeth said brightly, hoping to change the subject.

  But Jessica was still slumped in her chair, a scowl on her pretty face. "Food," she muttered, "is the last thing I want to think about for a while." She couldn't believe how disappointed she was about Friday night. And none of the others seemed to be giving it a second thought.

  Jessica couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so thoroughly and devastatingly misunderstood. I'll make it up somehow, she promised herself. I'll find some way to outshine Liz!

  But how?

  "Robin," Elizabeth said, lowering her lunch tray, "do you mind if I join you?"

  Robin Wilson looked up blankly, her blue eyes focusing on Elizabeth with surprise. "Sure," she said, waving her hand. "You're welcome, Liz."

  The cafeteria was buzzing with activity, but Elizabeth barely noticed the din around her. "I've been thinking about you a lot lately," she told the girl, "and I feel I owe you a big apology for the way I acted that day at Casey's. I think I sort of flew off the handle. I thought you and George were still seeing each other, even after the crash."

  "Oh, that's all right," Robin said vaguely. "I don't blame you for being mad. But you were wrong, you know," she added. "I talked to George at the dance. That was the first time I'd spoken to him since the night he called me after the accident. And it was the only time I've seen him since then."

  Elizabeth decided she had to confront the situation; she had to learn the truth. "But Jessica said she and Lila saw George's car in front of your house the day after the plane crash."

  Robin laughed bitterly. "George told me that the night of the dance. He dropped by to tell me in person what he ended up telling me over the phone—that we shouldn't see each other again. But he forgot to tell me he'd come by."

  Elizabeth gasped! "Oh, Robin, I feel so foolish. Do you think you can forgive me for having been so horrible to you?"

  Robin smiled. "You weren't horrible," she said. "You were just defending your best friend. Believe me, Liz, I would've done the same thing. And I don't blame you for hating me, either. But I couldn't help falling in love with George. It just happened."

  "Do you still love him?" Elizabeth asked gently.

  Robin sighed. "Yes," she said quietly. "But I've given up hope. As long as Enid needs him, George will stick by her. And it looks like the poor girl is going to need him for a long, long time. You know, Liz," she added, "I love George, but I care too much about my self-respect to do something rotten."

  "How does George feel about all this?" Elizabeth asked.

  Robin's eyes filled with tears. "Well"—she bit her lip—"George wants to start seeing me again now," she admitted. "He's getting fed up with Enid. He feels that she's refusing to get better so she can hang on to him. But I said I won't see him until Enid's up and walking. I can't have her misery on my conscience—not until she's well."

  "You're an amazing person," Elizabeth said quietly. "I'm not sure I could be that noble if I were you."

  Robin shrugged. "It doesn't have anything to do with being noble. I guess it just has to do with being able to sleep at night!"

  "I just hope you can forgive me and be my friend again," Elizabeth said seriously. "I said a lot of things I shouldn't have and made a lot of quick judgments before I had reason to."

  "You're just a loyal friend," Robin repeated. "Of course I forgive you, Liz. I used to wish I could be like you," she added suddenly. "And I still respect you so much. I'm glad we're friends again."

  "Thanks," Elizabeth told her warmly. "I don't know about you, but I can guarantee I'll sleep better tonight now that we've made up!"

  "I feel better, too," Robin admitted.

  Now, Elizabeth thought anxiously, I've just got to make my plan work to get Enid out of her wheelchair! Because without that, I doubt I'll ever get a good night's sleep again as long as I live.

  That night Elizabeth dialed Enid's number. "Enid, it's me," she said into the phone. "How are you?"

  "I'm OK," Enid said unenthusiastically. "About the same. What's up?"

  "I need to talk to you about something really important," Elizabeth told her. "Can you come over tomorrow afternoon?"

  Enid was quiet for a minute. "Can't you talk to me about it now?"

  Elizabeth dropped her voice. "It's not private enough around here," she answered.

  "Oh." Enid was quiet again. "What about in school tomorrow?"

  "Enid, this is private," Elizabeth persisted. "Please come over!"

  "Oh, OK." Enid sighed. "I'll ask Mom to give me a ride over. But I promised her I'd go to the hospital after school to meet a new doctor, so I won't be able to make it till around four-thirty or so."

  "That's fine," Elizabeth said. "See you then, Enid."

  The minute Elizabeth hung up she dialed Mr. Collins's number.

  "The mystery plan is in operation at last!" he exclaimed when he heard her voice. "And I suppose you want to recruit Boy Wonder to help you!"

  Elizabeth giggled. "If Boy Wonder is around, can I talk to him for a few minutes?"

  Teddy Collins was on the phone in a flash, his voice high with excitement. "OK, Liz, what's the plan?" he asked.

  "You're a good swimmer, Teddy, aren't you?" Elizabeth asked him.

  "The best!" Teddy chirped. "I was in the Sharks last summer at camp!"

  "Good," Elizabeth said. "I thought so. How would you like to come swimming over at my house tomorrow afternoon? I'll tell you the rest of the plan then."

  "Goody!" Teddy cried. "It's just like on television!"

  "Now, I'll pick you up around four o'clock," Elizabeth instructed him, and you'll get your mysterious assignment. OK?"

  "OK!" Teddy hollered. "I can't wait!"

  Elizabeth sat still for a couple of minutes after she'd replaced the receiver, running through the plan she'd come up with for what must have been the hundredth time. It had to work, she told herself. It just had to.