"Zombie!" Elizabeth screamed, cowering on the sofa in fright. It was times like these she wished she had her briefcase with her, for Sam – supposedly dead for almost a year now – was standing in the door to the den.
Jessica gasped. Sam Woodruff.
"Jessica," he said, hoarsely, walking over to Elizabeth and taking her hand in his.
Ned and Alice exchanged glances; apparently, eye rolling was a common occurrence in the Wakefield family, so they had to do it seeing as their daughters were so overcome with the moment.
Elizabeth spoke gently, using her best objective reporter's voice in an attempt not to embarrass Sam. "I'm Elizabeth, you twit."
"Oh... right..." Sam looked confused, and shifted his gaze to the wannabe punk next to Elizabeth, who at that moment was reaching out to steal Sam's shoe. He frowned. "Jessica?"
"Hey, Sammy..." she said, coyly.
"What the cluck have you done to yourself?" he cried, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Where's the beautiful Jess gone, the one I knew and loved?"
Jessica scowled, running her fingers through her scarlet hair. "Actually, I think you'll find I am still rather dapper, Samuel. It's simply that it was raining cats and dogs when I took tea yesterday in Hyde Park with the Queen and thus I had to snip off my locks when I walked on the pavement..."
"Jess," whispered Elizabeth. "What are you doing?"
"Sssh, Liz. I'm being British."
There was an awkward silence. Alice took another deep breath. It seemed that Jessica and Elizabeth weren't going to get anywhere with Sam – she wasn't too shocked by his back-from-the-dead appearance, after all, this was Sweet Valley – and damn them if they were going to steal her limelight.
"Steven, Elizabeth, Jessica... the news... I'm actually... your sister."