Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield are identical twins at Sweet Valley High. They’re both popular, smart, and gorgeous, but that’s where the similarity ends. Though they are twins, they are first and foremost individuals. Elizabeth is friendly, outgoing, and sincere—nothing like her twin, who knows better than to worry about pleasing others. Snobbish and conniving, Jessica thinks the whole world revolves around her. And most of the time it does, because she is a woman who knows how to translate her will into reality. Jessica always gets what she wants—at school, with friends, and especially with boys.
Do not make the same mistake as so many others have in Sweet Valley, the ignorant children who think that an individualist is someone who does as she pleases at everyone else’s expense. The expense of others doesn’t enter into it. An individual like Jessica recognizes that her rights matter only insofar as they do not trample on the rights of others. She will not run anyone else’s life, but neither will she let anyone else, from the highest Bruce Patman to the lowliest Winston Egbert, run hers. She neither rules (like Lila Fowler) nor is ruled (like Enid Rollins).
Do not make the mistake of the ignorant who think that an individualist is a man who says: “I’ll do as I please at everybody else’s expense.” An individualist is a man who recognizes the inalienable individual rights of man—his own and those of others.
An individualist is a man who says: “I will not run anyone’s life—nor let anyone run mine. I will not rule nor be ruled. I will not be a master nor a slave. I will not sacrifice myself to anyone—nor sacrifice anyone to myself.”
Elizabeth works for the school paper.
***
Jessica was still the most fantastic girl in school.
So why didn’t Todd know it? Tears of angry frustration filled her eyes. She decided she would walk home from school. Whenever she was out walking, she never failed to attract a good deal of attention from passing cars.
The more the better, she thought, swinging her hips a little as she set off.
Pride is the recognition of the fact that you are your own highest value and, like all of man’s values, it has to be earned. Jessica had earned it the same way she had earned everything — with aquamarine eyes, sun-kissed California blonde hair, a perfect size six figure, and an unshakeable faith in her own ability to turn desire into reality. She was both the warrant and the sanction.
***
“I told him we didn’t want to miss a single minute of mall time. I mean, what’s better than spending an evening at the mall? That’s where money lives.”
“Money is only a tool, Lila,” Jessica reminded her friend. “It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver of your lime-green Triumph, complete with car phone.”
***
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Jessica,” Sam said breathlessly after another one of their long kisses that felt like a long walk on the beach that lasted forever. “You’re so strong, and beautiful, and –“
“If you tell a beautiful woman that she is beautiful, what have you given her?” Jessica asked. Sam opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a perfectly manicured finger to stop him. “It’s no more than a fact and it has cost you nothing. But if you tell an ugly woman that she is beautiful, you offer her the great homage of corrupting the concept of beauty. To love a woman for her virtues is meaningless. She’s earned it, it’s a payment, not a gift. But to love her for her vices is a real gift, unearned and undeserved. To love her for her vices is to defile all virtue for her sake — and that is a real tribute of love, because you sacrifice your conscience, your reason, your integrity and your invaluable self-esteem.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam began.
“I want you to kiss my self-respect, Sam,” Jessica explained.
“Oh,” Sam said. Then he did.
***
True, it would be Lila’s party, and the attention would be centered on Lila and Roger, but Jessica had a way of fixing that. She could see it now. Everyone who was anyone—from her sorority sisters to the guys on the boys’ tennis team—would be gathered around Lila’s lushly landscaped swimming pool, that glimmering oval of liquid money. Right in the center of things would be Lila, making sure everyone was aware that Roger was the object of her affection. Jessica would enter, naked from her wrist to her neck, dressed like a locomotive, like precious metal, like the skyline of New York City, which is more beautiful than even the pyramids of Giza. Then, as the hors d’oeuvres were being passed around, Jessica could casually mention to Cara how nice it was that Roger got time off from cleaning toilets to come to this affair.
There was nothing inherently wrong with cleaning toilets, of course, but since capitalism leaves every man free to choose the work that he likes best, and to go as far as his ability and ambition will carry him, it was more than a little embarrassing that Roger hadn’t even managed to develop a new process of refining steel yet.
Within minutes everyone would be looking at Lila strangely—and she’d try to discover why. Soon she’d be off hiding in embarrassment, trying to figure out how to get out of this one. That would set the stage for Jessica’s introduction of Dennis and her taking over as star of the party. Jessica started giggling inwardly in anticipation of the event.
Also, there would never be a woman president. What man would a woman president be able to look up to? He would have to live on the moon.
***
“Mr. Collins,” she said, “what’s going on? I’ve heard crazy rumors.”
“They’re not rumors, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Collins, looking grim. “They’re true enough.”
Sweet Valley’s two most powerful families, the Patmans and the Fowlers, were at each other’s throats again, and the high school was caught in the middle. The Patman-Fowler feud — pitting the old, established Henry Wilson Patman and his canning industry money against George Fowler and his new money made through silicon chips — was going to be fought out on the Gladiators’ football field.
“The school had leased the field from the city, but the lease ran out recently,” said Mr. Collins. “Now George Fowler is trying to buy the land so he can put up a new factory.”
“Right across from the school?” said Elizabeth.
“That’s what he wants. The Fowlers judge everything by how they can make more money.”
“Wealth is the product of man’s capacity to think,” said Elizabeth heatedly. “Then is money made by the man who invents a motor at the expense of those who did not invent it? Is money made by the intelligent at the expense of the fools? By the able at the expense of the incompetent? By the ambitious at the expense of the lazy? Money is MADE—before it can be looted or mooched—made by the effort of every honest man, each to the extent of his ability. An honest man is one who knows that he can’t consume more than he has produced. Money demands that you sell, not your weakness to men’s stupidity, but your talent to their reason; it demands that you buy, not the shoddiest they offer, but the best your money can find. And when men live by trade—with reason, not force, as their final arbiter—it is the best product that wins, the best performance, then man of best judgment and highest ability—and the degree of a man’s productiveness is the degree of his reward. This is the code of existence whose tool and symbol is money. Is this what you consider evil?”
Mr. Collins tried to interrupt, but Elizabeth continued for another 300 pages before moving to an offshore tax haven, where she was free to publish her essays about the capital gains tax without interference from The Oracle‘s heavy editorial hand.
Gardens are just a fancy word for “cemetery.” Nothing useful was ever produced in a garden. The factory provided the high schoolers with a concrete picture of what ambition, money, and vision could accomplish, right across the street. Many inferior high school males grew up to work in that factory. Their women tended to their own gardens in their backyards, but at least they grew food in them.
***
“Jessica,” Elizabeth said worriedly, “Roger is going to be here any minute.”
“So?” Jessica responded placidly, letting a final curl of her hair (which was the color of gold, an objectively valuable metal) cascade perfectly into place.
“So,” Elizabeth said, “you’re not dressed yet.”
“Oh, I’m dressed,” Jessica said, smiling.
“You’re not wearing any clothes!” Elizabeth cried. “You can’t go out dressed in…dressed in nothing, Jess! That’s extreme, even for you.”
“Au contraire, sister,” Jessica said, stepping lightly towards the door. “I am dressed in my own vision for the future.”
Tags: ayn rand rewrites, francine pascal, objectivist sweet valley, sweet valley high
Related Posts
Outfits I Have Coveted In Atlas Shrugged
Pulping the Classics: Bad Romance by Great Writers
Inevitable Fates of Beloved Children’s Book Characters
A Literary Child’s Guide to Her Dead Mother
What to Expect When You’re Expecting: A Guide for Fictional Victorians
A Wrinkle In Time: Dirtbag Mrs. Whatsit
“kiss my self-worth” is my new go-to comeback
But! The quote preceding it is from one of Atlas Shrugged’s villains. You don’t want to be a filthy looter, do you?
Jessica was always an Ayn Rand character transplanted to high school. This just made the subtext into text.
“Mr. Collins tried to interrupt, but Elizabeth continued for another 300 pages before moving to an offshore tax haven, where she was free to publish her essays about the capital gains tax without interference from The Oracle‘s heavy editorial hand.”
This quite literally made me choke on a carrot stick.
This quote would also work for Ayn Rand’s Pride and Prejudice. Lifted right out!
This is perfection.
Did you write this just to troll Roxane?
I mostly read Sweet Valley *Twins* rather than *High* but surely this entry http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1194915.The_Wa… is applicable?
to quote Miss Rand
“Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth, the man who would make his fortune no matter where he started.”
DOES THAT NOT DESCRIBE THE WAKEFIELDS?
Oh good, I also mostly read Sweet Valley Twins… In retrospect it’s CRAZY that they were supposed to be 12 because they certainly didn’t act like any 12 year old I knew, and they didn’t look 12 on the book covers.
Literally every time I wear flats with bootcut jeans, I think, “Take THAT, Janet Howell, President of the Unicorn Club.” Because of a throwaway line in a book I read 15 years ago. Sweet Valley anything was my jam. My favorite books were the ones where they fought vampires, serial killers, stalkers, psycho evil twins, etc.
This is everything my heart has ever wanted, a perfect intersection of my every interest.
Jessica IS both the warrant and the sanction. Indeed.
“Jessica would enter, naked from her wrist to her neck, dressed like a locomotive, like precious metal, like the skyline of New York City, which is more beautiful than even the pyramids of Giza.”
I snorted so hard my sinuses hurt.
TRAINS
“What man would a woman president be able to look up to? He would have to live on the moon.”
MALLORY YES
“So you’re saying… we should put them all on the moon?”
So, a woman president should marry an astronaut? That seems legit.
President Giffords. Yep.
Please now write 141 more of these so we have the whole series.
Or perhaps you could find a ghost writer!
“Jessica would enter, naked from her wrist to her neck, dressed like a locomotive, like precious metal, like the skyline of New York City, which is more beautiful than even the pyramids of Giza.”
This is going on my vision board that I will create solely so I have can have this as a vision.
These books confused me so much while growing up in central California. This might have helped.
So are you channeling Rand, or what? Because if you’re not, maybe you are.
I feel like there should be more characterization of the kids’ smoking habits.
“Mr. Collins tried to interrupt, but Elizabeth continued for another 300 pages before moving to an offshore tax haven, where she was free to publish her essays about the capital gains tax without interference from The Oracle‘s heavy editorial hand.”
Also appropriate for Ayn Rand’s Pride & Prejudice, which I didn’t know I wanted until just now.
This is how I knew this was legit: “with aquamarine eyes, sun-kissed California blonde hair, a perfect size six figure”
Any Sweet Valley anything needs this.
Mallory, I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I am talking a western culture 101 course, and 20 percent of my grade is posting on our course forum once a week.
Also, I need to read 6 books out of a 14 books list, of which ‘The Fountainhead’ is the only book written by a woman.
Not Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf or Mary Shelley, but Ayn Rand.
Needless to say, about 90 percent of my postings have been links to The Toast articles mocking Ayn Rand.
Thank you for your constant vigilance when it comes to mocking her, because this is a year long course and I still need material.
Jesus Christ, you’re taking a Western Culture class and the only book by a female author on the syllabus is by AYN FUCKING RAND? Where did the professor go to graduate school, 1958?
Actually, I don’t think you’re off by a lot, he’s been teaching since the early seventies.
He did say that he read the book as a teenager, and he’s not sure what reading it as an adult would be like.
Not good, buddy. Not good.
(we also have Catch 22 on the list, maybe he’s just trying to pick books that are more approachable to us)
I don’t care how old he is, there’s still no excuse for RAND as the only female author on a list of 14 books. Your professor is a complete ass. What is his PhD in, misogyny?
That quote about beauty is actually from the mouth of Lillian Rearden, a villain. It’s hard to imagine an Ayn Rand hero talking about sacrificing her reason and self-esteem.
I promise you, I know where the quote I found came from.
<3
Jesus Christ, you're taking a Western Culture class and the only book by a female author on the syllabus is by AYN FUCKING RAND? Where did the professor go to graduate school, 1958?
I eagerly await her other tween series, Ayn Rand’s The Baby-Sitters Club.
Where Winston is the hero.
I eagerly await her other tween series, Ayn Rand's The Baby-Sitters Club.
” ‘An individualist is a man who says: “I will not run anyone’s life—nor let anyone run mine. I will not rule nor be ruled. I will not be a master nor a slave. I will not sacrifice myself to anyone—nor sacrifice anyone to myself.’
Elizabeth works for the school paper.”
This is the most scathing indictment of the school paper that ever existed. I’m pretty sure that this is how Ricki from MSCL felt about the yearbook when Mr. Katimski tries to get him to get him to join yearbook club.
Elizabeth continued for another 300 pages before moving to an offshore tax haven, where she was free to publish her essays about the capital gains tax without interference from The Oracle‘s heavy editorial hand.
*swoons*
I don't care how old he is, there's still no excuse for RAND as the only female author on a list of 14 books. Your professor is a complete ass. What is his PhD in, misogyny?
I wrote many of the actual Sweet Valley High books, and I hate everything I’ve read by Rand, so maybe I should be offended, but I love this! I especially love the brilliant line quoted by several other commenters, about Elizabeth going on for another 300 pages, etc. Very funny!
I’d love to write the rest of the series this way, but I’m not sure my contracts with the publisher would allow it.
President Giffords. Yep.