When Lila Met Stacey Chapter 15 “The Love Bet” or “Stacey’s Big Crush”

4 Nov

The  TEAM MARGO T-SHIRT WINNER IS…..Sam, with the answer of Teddy Collins!  All your answers made me laugh so hard, and I was overwhelmed by your love for Lila. I will hopefully give some more away in the near future.

Well congratulations Sam and I hope people you know IRL get it. I wore mine to the gym the other day and  after about 137 strange looks, I got stopped by a girl who immediately cracked up and told me all about her SVH addiction. There is a strong chance it was just Margo trying to get on my good side…

But now for Chapter 15: I will be posting #16 within the week, because I’m slightly proud of it. So read this one at pace!


“Interesting…” Twenty-six-year-old Elizabeth Wakefield tapped her pen on her bedroom desk as she rifled through the transcript of her latest interview, conducted over the phone with Cara Walker.
It turned out that Collins had made a play at the olive-skinned beauty after gym class that day. And there was Elizabeth thinking he’d just been the chaperone! She turned over the page. First Steven and then the English teacher? Cara had always had some serious Daddy issues, but this was just plain disgusting!
Elizabeth took a sip of her root beer. She was finally getting to the bottom of this. And she was certain that justice would be done. She glanced at her phone. Sam had rung only twice today – it was possible that he was losing interest. Or that he had something better to do than sit and wait around for Elizabeth Wakefield all day. She dismissed the thought with a laugh. Preposterous!
She was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Sweetie?” Alice Wakefield poked her blonde pixie-cut hair through the doorframe. “I’m heading off to a conference in Chicago for a few days.”
“See ya,” responded Liz without looking up. Her mother sure had a lot of interstate responsibilities these days, she thought absently. It was a shame Ned was always too busy at Sweet Valley local court to join her.
“Oh and Liz? I might be out of reach. I think there was an earthquake and the phones are down over there.”
Margo Pike sprawled out on Bruce’s canopied king-bed, hoping she didn’t have panda eyes from last night. She rubbed her eyes, gritty and dry from sleeping in those dastardly aqua contact lenses.
“I bet Lizzie never sleeps in makeup,” taunted The Voice.
“Fuck off,” Margo grumbled. She slipped into a purple Lacoste shirt of her boyfriend’s and tiptoed into his adjoining bathroom. She peeled open her eyes and sighed. It was time to stop procrastinating. Today was the day.

Bruce appeared behind her, and started nuzzling her neck with vigor. She let herself revel in his warmth for just a second, and the familiar electric shock coursed through her body.
Margo turned to him, hoping that just the right amount of cleavage was poking out below the Peter Pan collar.
“Bruce,” she began. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Here it comes, she thought. The deal-breaker or the deal-sealer. She took a deep breath.
“You remember when you told me that my life in Connecticut wasn’t the life I deserved, and that my rightful place was Sweet Valley?” Her eyes flashed gold as she waited for Bruce to meet her gaze.
“Well you were right. I am destined to be here, destined for wealth and power and popularity.” Bruce took a step back as she continued.
“And the reason I dressed like Elizabeth last night is because…because I want to become her.” She raised her head to the sky in defiance, and Bruce could just make out a hint of raven-haired re-growth.
“I will murder her, and become her, and take my rightful place in the Wakefield family,” she finished with a rasp.
There was silence and Bruce cracked up.
“You’re good, Margo,” he chuckled, giving her a playful shove.
“Don’t mess with me Bruce,” her face morphed into a contorted mask. She drew her hand from behind her back and produced a glittering knife.
“Holy shit, Margo!” Bruce backed into the door. “Please don’t kill me! I’m Bruce Patman!”
Margo relaxed. She had him on the back foot.
“I need your help, Bruce,” it was more a threat than an appeal. “I need you.” Or else I’ll bury you next to Enid-the-drip, she added silently.
“Margo, you’re nuts!” he yelped, his normal composure wavering.
“It’s me or Elizabeth,” she whispered with a sardonic smile. She held the knife perpendicular to his chiseled neck. “Do you really want her to live?”
Bruce was sweating now. He ran a hand through his dripping hair. Sure, he’d been pissed when the Wakefields had blue-balled him in the 11th grade, but murder? That seemed a little crazy.
“What’s in it for me, Margo?” he tried to meet her steely gaze with his own, but he knew it was faltering.
Margo plonked herself down on the bathroom sink, where they’d gone at it like Annie Whitman just hours before.
“You want your fortune, right,” she rasped in his ear. “The fortune you grew up with, that you’re entitled to.”
“I do,” he murmured, a feeling of defiance rising in his chest.
“And you wouldn’t want your father to snatch it away from you like that, simply because you weren’t married to a Wakefield.”
Bruce nodded. She was right.
“And if you kept me around, not only would you avoid my bad side, but you would live with a Wakefield —”
“Elizabeth Wakefield,” he finished for her with a grin. This was genius! Losing his fortune would have been bad enough, but incurring the wrath of Margo was a fate worse than – or equal to – death.
“I love you, Margo,” he murmured, lifting her chin to his. She dropped the knife, and it richocheted off the bench, clattering across the Spanish tiles.
“I love you too Bruce,” she drawled. “More than you know.”
* * *
Steven Wakefield rapped on the Winkler’s door on Saturday morning. A wholesome Wakefield breakfast of blueberry pancakes and bacon had given him the strength and courage he needed to do this. He knocked again, impatiently, clutching the pink peonies between his white knuckles.
“Steven!?” Mrs Winkler greeted him like an old friend. He loved the way his former mother-in-law’s grey eyes crinkled up at the corners, and the slightly unkempt manner of her silver bun. She seemed more real somehow than his own perfect mother.
“Hi Mrs Winkler,” he allowed her to engulf him in a warm hug. He looked up hesitantly and his voice quietened. “Is Billie here?”
Mrs Winkler cleared her throat. “She’s in her room.” She cocked her head upstairs. “But Steven,” she warned him, “You will find her much altered.”
Steven took the stairs three at a time and pushed open the door of the room he knew so well, recalling in a flash those nights he’d stood outside, throwing pebbles at his sweetheart’s window.
But it wasn’t Billie who greeted him this time – at least, not the Billie he knew. In her place was a pale, overweight blimp wearing a grey tent dress and chowing down on a Hershey Bar.
“Billie!?” Steven gasped, clutching the door for support.
“Steven!” She giggled, her chins wobbling up and down like a turkey’s. “Want some?” Before he could say another word, she gobbled down the last of the chocolate, and tossed the wrapper on her bedside table with a satisfied belch. “I knew you’d come back, Steve!” She heaved her enormous frame off the double bed and hurried over toward the door.
Steven backed into the doorframe as Billie lumbered toward him, beads of perspiration on her saggy jaw.
“Just in time for the discomarathon, too!” she went on.
Steven couldn’t believe his eyes. Instead of the slim, attractive cello player he’d married so long ago, here was this horrid-looking gargantuan, stuffing her face with candy and wearing a shapeless thing that would make Tricia Martin roll over in her grave!
“Ste-eve!” She whined. “Say something!?”
It had always astounded Steven that whenever anyone in Sweet Valley gained a few pounds, they morphed into an annoying, desperate wannabee. Like that Robin Wilson chick who was always hanging off his sisters. Tubby Wilson, they’d called her. It was as though the desperate threshold was BMI dependent.
“Steven?” she asked uncertainly. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”
Steven shielded his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at what his wife had become.
“I uh, I can’t, it’s just that…”
“You want to go to Miller’s Point instead?” She flapped her chubby little hands excitedly.
“I’m not in love with you, Billie.” A stunned silence followed.
“Don’t blame yourself, Steven,” she snarled bitterly. “I became this despite you. Now get.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Steven stumbled down the carpeted stairs and out the door, trying to shake the dreadful image from his memory. He needed jailbait. Now.
* * *
“Here – sip this,”
Lila Fowler lay on her plush purple sofa as Alan Gray pushed an Alka Seltzer into her hand.
“Go awaaaay,” she groaned sufferingly.
Alan exchanged a look with Stacey. “She hasn’t moved all afternoon,” he told her, a worried look on his face. “Jessica reckons that Pfeifer guy really shook her up.”
Lila lifted her head. “He’s dead….he’s dead..” she moaned deliriously.
Jessica crouched down to hold her friend’s hand. “Obviously the fire at that Gladiator game didn’t kill him,” she said softly. “Maybe you were too busy hooking up with Steven that night to notice him escape?”
Lila sank back on the bed. “No!” she choked.
She forced herself to look at the concerned faces swirling around her head. Alan, Jessica, Ben, Claudia and her token husband… even Stacey and Nicholas Morrow had pulled apart for the moment – earlier in the day they’d disgusted Jessica by injecting each other with their 10am insulin.
Lila felt a tear trickle down her alabaster cheek. She felt so pathetic, so alone. George and Grace were in the Isle of Mann this week, and out of contact. But Lila knew she needed to pull herself together this time – to fight John Pfeifer and get back the Magenta Galaxy they’d all worked so hard for.
“Lila,” a husky voice roused her from her fitful unconscious. She glanced up expectantly as a familiar face drifted before her, a pair of warm, slate-grey eyes smiling kindly at her.
“Nicholas,” she whispered gratefully, clutching his outstretched arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Will Lila find the strength to overcome Lunatic Pfeifer?
Will Steven Wakefield love again?
And while Margo is rising, where has Alice Wakefield really been?
Find out in Chapter 16, The Wakefield Legacy: The Untold Story

6 Responses to “When Lila Met Stacey Chapter 15 “The Love Bet” or “Stacey’s Big Crush””

  1. Sam November 4, 2010 at 10:39 am #

    Yay!!! Thanks heaps! Should I send you an email with my details?

  2. cokie mason November 4, 2010 at 3:36 pm #

    Firstly, I am sad that I will not be the recipient of a Team Margo shirt.
    Secondly, I LOVE this chapter. The bit about Billie turning into Robin Wilson is gold. I love how this is pretty much exactly how Robin was made out to be, simply because she was a bit overweight.

    • winstonegbert November 4, 2010 at 8:23 pm #

      Yes the way anyone over a size six behaved in Sweet Valley was rather ridiculous. In my experience, sociopathy doesn’t tend to be dependent on one’s weight. I thoroughly hated destroying Billie’s personality like that, she was my favourite of Steven’s girlfriends [sorry Tricia, not to speak ill of the dead.]

  3. Fran November 5, 2010 at 5:10 am #

    I’m glad you picked Sam’s Teddy Collins answer- it was hilarious! An earthquake in Chicago? That’s awesome! Billie was always my favorites of Steven’s girlfriends too.


  1. Totally Sweet Valley » Blog Archive » Whats New in the World of Sweet Valley… - November 8, 2010

    […] Chapter #15 of “When Lila Met Stacey” (a very clever SV/BSC crossover) is up on What Winston Saw. […]

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