Elizabeth put down her red pen. She had been copy editing the latest edition of The Oracle for two hours now. Why did she always seem to be the only one in The Oracle office after school every day? Sure, they had an editor-in-chief, an arts editor and they did have a sports editor – before he got crazy, tried to date rape Lila and then ended up blowing himself up – but it seemed Elizabeth single-handedly put out every edition of the school newspaper.

She wondered why there were so many would-be date rapists in Sweet Valley and made a mental note to write an investigative piece on the phenomenon. But first, she needed to put this edition of The Oracle to bed – and she needed to investigate the “Skanks Gone Stupid” crew.

Mr.Collins, the faculty advisor for The Oracle, entered the office and peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder. “What are you working on there, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth practically jumped out of her seat. “Goodness, Mr. Collins,” she said. “You just about scared me half to death.”

“Relax, Elizabeth,” he said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s just me. And you. Alone. In this secluded office. Two hours after school has ended.”

Everyone at Sweet Valley High loved Roger Collins. Only in his twenties, the English teacher was tall and handsome, with movie-star good looks. In fact, he closely resembled Robert Redford, back when this was considered a compliment. Elizabeth often confided in Mr. Collins, and he, in turn, often overstepped his professional boundaries in giving advice to young, hot sixteen-year-old girls.

Of course, there had been the time that Suzanne Devlin, a snotty socialite from New York, had come to visit and had accused Mr. Collins of raping her. Everyone believed the story – because who in Sweet Valley didn’t have their own creepy story about an encounter with Mr. Collins? – but he was later vindicated when Elizabeth showed everyone that Suzanne was a liar. Suzanne later came back to Sweet Valley to apologize after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis had led her to change her ways, but as it turned out, all she had was mononucleosis.

“Mr. Collins, can I ask you for some advice?” Elizabeth said, turning her chair around to face him.

“Sure, Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said, leaning against his desk. “You can ask me for anything. Anytime. You can even come over to my house, if you want.”

“Well, you see, there’s this group of people who are new to town,” Elizabeth began, “and I just have this funny feeling that they’re trouble.”

Mr. Collins crossed his arms. “What makes you think that, Elizabeth?”

“I don’t really know,” she said slowly, shaking her head.

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said softly, reaching down and taking her hand in his, “Does it really matter?”

“I guess not,” she said, sighing. “I’m just worried about Jessica.”

“Jessica?” Mr. Collins asked, his brow furrowed. “Do you think she’s up for a bit of ménage a trois action?”

“Mr. Collins, you know I don’t speak French fluently,” Elizabeth said. “I know you’re dating Nora Dalton, the French teacher, but I’m not sure I understand all of what you’re saying.”

Mr. Collins cleared his throat. “Sorry, Elizabeth. I was just asking, uh, if you think Jessica’s in trouble.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Elizabeth said. “If she’s interested, it must be trouble. But I don’t have any solid proof that these people aren’t who they seem.”

“Sometimes, we have a hard time dealing with outsiders,” Mr. Collins said. “I think what you need to do, Elizabeth, is to give them a chance.”

Elizabeth jumped up and hugged him. “Thanks, Mr. Collins. You’re the best!”