“For the last time,” Bruce said evenly, “I am not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“He’s really not,” Elizabeth piped up. “Officer, I know this may be none of my business, but that’s never stopped me from interfering before. And I can say with about 60 percent certainty that Bruce is not the Sweet Valley date rapist.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. “I’ve been trying to tell this asshole that for the past five minutes.”

“Don’t you know who he is?” Lila demanded of the police officer. “He’s Bruce Fucking Patman!” BPattz, yo

Sure enough, at the next turn, there was Ken’s Toyota wrapped around a tree, smoke pouring out from under its hood. Todd slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to a stop in the middle of the road and jumping out.

He ran toward Ken’s car, the sharp pellets of rain pelting his face. Please be OK, Ken, he hoped. Please be all right.

Todd could feel the heat of the engine fire as he approached the Toyota. Throwing up one arm to shield his face, Todd moved cautiously toward the car. Any second now, this thing could blow sky high, he thought as he choked on the acrid smoke. It filled his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

Reaching the driver’s side door, Todd hesitated for a split second before yanking it open. Ken was slumped over the steering wheel, his eyes closed and his face pale. That “fatal” night

Without thinking, Todd launched into trusty boyfriend mode. He wheezed and hobbled his way over to his own car, yanking open the driver’s side door with a strength he didn’t know he still possessed. The engine turned over with a loud roar, and Todd hit the gas, turning out of the parking lot in the direction Ken had taken.

Where is he? Todd thought, squinting to see farther down the road. None of the cars looked like Ken’s. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal, silently willing the car to go faster. The car shuddered and leaped forward.

Ahead, Todd noticed a car suddenly change lanes, nearly sideswiping a motorcycle. Someone in Sweet Valley still rides a bike? Todd wondered. I thought we all learned that lesson when Elizabeth was in a coma and started acting all slutty! High-speed chase action!

“Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth cried.

Mr. Collins looked up at her, startled. And around him peeked Jessica.

“Jessica?” Elizabeth exclaimed. I was wrong, she thought grimly. Things just got a lot worse. She jumped up off of Bruce’s lap and ran toward her sister, not believing that it really was her. The ho stroll

“Thanks for the tip, Caroline,” Amy said, jotting down Bruce’s name in her reporter’s notebook and scribbling down a question mark beside it.

“But, speaking of Bruce — you’re going to be so interested in this piece of gossip, although I’m afraid it’s not actually newsworthy — he’s supposedly fucking Elizabeth Wakefield!” Caroline said, nodding furiously. “Can you believe it? Of course, Todd Wilkins is fucking Ken Matthews, so it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth made some bad decisions, but I really thought she’d give Enid Rollins a go, you know? Elizabeth seems too polite to turn anyone down for sex, regardless of her own sexual orientation. Oh, and I have it on good authority that she cries after every orgasm. Every single one! Can you believe it? I’ve never cried after an orgasm, but you know, my boyfriend lives out of town, so I can’t tell you the last time I actually had an orgasm — well, not one given to me by an actual human being and not something with batteries, anyway—” Hold up, bitch

She staggered down the street, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. She didn’t know how far Kelly’s was from the police station, or where she was exactly. Stopping in the middle of the street, she turned in a slow circle, surveying the area. She was somewhere on the outskirts of Sweet Valley, she realized now, taking in the low, long warehouses that dotted the landscape.

From inside one of them, she thought she heard sobbing and a voice calling for help, as well as a few loud banging sounds, but Enid had had enough drug-induced hallucinations to know never to trust her senses. She kept walking toward what she believed to be the center of town. As she approached a small cinderblock building with a sign that read “Unicorn Club,” Enid took note of the marquee out front.

“R U HORNY? WE R,” she read out loud. Then, underneath that, “2 FOR 1 DRINK SPECIALS, NOON TO 5 P.M. MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY.” Sounds like a good deal

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Bruce is coming to pick you up?”

Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I’m working at Patman Canning now,” she said. “And I’m sleeping with him.”

“You’re doing what?” Todd exclaimed, a look of surprise crossing his face before it was replaced with a look of anger.

“I’m sleeping with him,” Elizabeth said. “You know, fucking.”

“But — but I thought you hated sex,” Todd sputtered. “You cried after every orgasm.” A loving act between two consenting adults

“Whatever,” Enid said, wrapping her arms around her chest. She was starting to get the shakes, a sure sign her latest hit was wearing off.

“Don’t you get it? Two children were found in a car in this parking lot — two little girls,” Amy said. “Enid, you left two small children in a car — by themselves — for god knows how long.”

“Oh, look at me: ‘I’m Amy Sutton, unlikely voice of reason,’” Enid mocked, flailing her arms in the air and waving around an imaginary microphone, which she then pretended to talk into. “‘Coming to you live from let’s fuck over Enid Rollins because I’m so stuck up because I volunteered for some stupid teen hotline, I’m Amy, blah blah blah.’” Drug bust, oh yeah

“Jessica? Jessica?”

Someone was shaking her awake. Jessica sat up with a start, for one terrifying moment believing the Sweet Valley date rapist had broken into her home. She lashed out, slapping at the person in front of her.

“Ouch, Jess, stop it!” Elizabeth cried, flinching and pulling back.

Jessica’s eyes focused in the dim light and fixated on her twin. She noticed Elizabeth’s cheeks were wet with tears.  “Oh, Liz, it’s just you,” she mumbled sleepily. “Can you make me a grilled cheese?” Bitch in the kitchen

“Well then,” Bruce said, coming up behind Elizabeth and placing his hands on her waist, “looks like it’s just you and me.”

Elizabeth nodded, her body stiffening at Bruce’s touch. “Uh, Bruce, I hate to ruin the moment and everything, but is that — is that a can of peaches in your pocket, or—”

“No,” he said, his voice low with desire. “No, it’s not a can of peaches.”

Tears began to roll down Elizabeth’s cheeks as her body was racked with uncontrollable sobs. Stripper fight!