Killer's Kiss
Author: R. L. Stine
Date: 1997-02-02 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Young Adult; Thriller; Fiction; Mystery; Childrens; Teen; Mystery Thriller; Fantasy; Crime
Description: Fear Street -- where your worst nightmares live... Delia and Karina are always competing. From getting the best grades, to being the most popular, to dating the cutest guys -- they always fight for the top spot. This year, they both want Vincent -- the hottest guy at Shadyside High. Karina's determined to get Vince. She'll do whatever it takes. And if she can't have him, she'll make sure no one else can either.... Including Delia.
Publisher: Simon Pulse

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

About the Author

Chapter

1

“Whoa!”

Vincent Milano dropped back against the sofa cushions. He could still feel the touch of Delia Easton’s lips on his cheek.

He watched her run a silver tube of purple lipstick over her lips.

She stroked it across her full lower lip. She smoothed it over her top lip. She carefully outlined her lips.

Something must have told her it looked perfect. She smacked her lips together and blotted them with a tissue. Then she tossed the tissue onto the table in front of the couch.

A perfect set of lip prints stained the white tissue. Dark purple lip prints. They grinned up at Vincent the same way Delia grinned at him from her spot on the couch.

Vincent ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair. He reached across Delia and grabbed a tissue from her bag. Then he wiped a smudge of purple lipstick off his cheek.

“Now what were we talking about?” he asked. He gave Delia one of his Vincent-Milano-trademark smiles.

“We need to plan your birthday party,” Delia replied. She checked her watch. “But I guess we’ll have to do that some other time. It’s late. I should go home.”

Vincent scooted closer. “It’s not that late. You don’t have to go yet.” He stroked one finger under her left ear.

Delia giggled. Then she glanced at the front window. “Your parents will probably be home soon,” she said.

“But they’re not home yet.” Vincent turned to the window. He couldn’t see much—just Delia’s little red Jetta parked in the driveway. The street in front of the house stood empty.

“They won’t be home for a while.” Actually, Vincent’s parents wouldn’t be back for hours. But he expected someone at nine. Someone Vincent did not want Delia to see.

He checked the clock on the mantel.

Only eight-thirty. Plenty of time before Karina arrived. He might as well enjoy himself while he waited.

Vincent kissed Delia again. She would never guess that his big smile had anything to do with Karina Frye.

“Mmmm.” Delia stared up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. “I went shopping for a new outfit today,” she told him. “I want something special to wear on your birthday. I tried on a purple vinyl skirt, but I’m not sure …”

Oh, great, Vincent thought. Karina and Delia will both expect to spend my birthday with me.

Vincent laughed. “You’d look awesome in purple vinyl!”

Delia blushed.

It’s the truth, Vincent told himself. And it’s what she wants to hear. What’s wrong with that?

Delia wasn’t beautiful—not like Karina. But people noticed her everywhere she went.

“You have great hair,” Vincent whispered. He ran his hands through Delia’s long, dark curls. “And you know that purple lipstick drives me crazy,” he added.

Yes! He found exactly the right thing to say. Delia planted a kiss on Vincent’s mouth. He tried not to think about Karina while he kissed Delia.

He would never be able to choose between the two girls. They were too different. He couldn’t compare them.

Karina had super-smooth blond hair and lightblue eyes. She was prettier than anyone Vincent had ever seen. She reminded him of Michelle Pfeiffer.

Delia was outgoing and outrageous. Karina was sweet and smart. He liked them both—a lot.

If his luck held, he could keep going out with both of them.

Delia sighed. “I can’t believe I was ever dumb enough to think you liked Karina. You’re not angry about that, are you?”

Vincent ignored the queasy feeling that shot through his stomach. Leave it to Delia to mention Karina now.

Delia didn’t have a clue that he was seeing Karina. And Karina didn’t know about Delia. If she did, she wouldn’t be coming over.

“I’m not angry.” Vincent tried to keep his voice steady. “You and Karina fight over everything. It figures that you would both want the same guy.”

“Yeah, it figures Karina would want my boyfriend.” Delia pulled away from Vincent and sat up. “She’s been jealous of me since we were kids! My clothes. My grades. My friends.”

Delia sighed. “Karina pretends to be such a goody-goody. But as soon as she heard we were going out, she went after you.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. He never felt guilty about anything—and he wasn’t about to start now. But listening to Delia talk about Karina made him nervous.

He checked the clock on the mantel.

Eight-thirty.

Whoa! How could it still be eight-thirty?

Vincent’s breath caught in his throat. He jumped up from the couch.

“Vincent? What’s wrong?” Delia called.

“Uh—nothing.” Trying his best to look casual, Vincent strolled over to the fireplace. He bent his head close to the clock.

No ticking. The clock had stopped.

And he had no idea how long ago. It could be nine o’clock right now!

Vincent’s heart banged against his ribs. He turned back to Delia. She started to apply a fresh coat of purple lipstick.

“You … you’re right about my parents,” Vincent stammered. He hurried across the room and grabbed Delia’s arm. He hauled her off the couch. “They will be home soon. You’d better leave.”

“Excuse me? A minute ago you said—”

“I know, but I didn’t realize how late it was.” Vincent turned to the window. Still no sign of Karina. But she should be here any second.

“My mom thinks I’m studying for my calculus test,” he told Delia. “I promised I would.” Vincent handed Delia her green and purple parka and nudged her toward the door. “She will kill me if she finds out you’ve been here.”

He flicked on the lamp near the door and peeked outside.

No Karina.

He yanked open the front door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he told Delia. “Right?”

“Right,” she answered. Delia checked her lipstick in the mirror that hung in the front hallway. Then she gave Vincent a quick kiss on the cheek. “Tomorrow,” she said, and made her way out the door.

The second she left, Vincent raced into the family room. He fluffed the pillows on the couch. He grabbed the tissue Delia had used to blot her lipstick and shoved it into his pocket.

When he heard Delia’s car start, he rushed to the window in time to wave good-bye. He watched the red taillights of her Jetta disappear around the corner—just as the headlights of another car came into view.

Karina!

Vincent’s heart started pounding again—with excitement. He waited by the window, watching Karina park her silver Eclipse and climb out.

In the moonlight, Karina’s long, blond hair appeared as silver as her car. She had it pulled back into a sleek ponytail that brushed against her shoulders as she walked to the front door.

Vincent grinned to himself as he watched her step into the light of the porch. Karina wore a short, black skirt and dark stockings that showed off her long legs. Even though it was February, she didn’t wear a coat. Her sweater matched her blue eyes exactly.

Vincent opened the door before Karina rang the bell. He stepped out onto the front porch and gazed down the empty street.

That was a close call, he thought.

“Karina!” He smiled. The Vincent-Milano-trademark smile. “It’s about time you got here! I’ve been bored out of my mind all night.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Karina answered. “But guess what? As I drove over here, I thought of the perfect theme for your birthday party!”

“Let’s talk about it later.” Vincent slipped his arms around Karina and pulled her close. He kissed her, a long, slow kiss.

“Come on in,” he whispered, pulling Karina through the door.

The second they stepped into the brightly lit hallway, all the color drained from Karina’s face. Her mouth fell open.

“Oh, no!” Karina gasped. “I don’t believe it!”

Chapter

2

“Huh? What is it?”

Vincent spun around to check the hallway behind him. Nothing there.

He turned back to Karina. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Color flooded back into Karina’s beautiful face. Splotches of red appeared high on her cheekbones.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated angrily. She wrenched her arm out of Vincent’s grasp and stalked into the family room.

What is her problem? Vincent wondered.

Karina came back carrying a clean tissue. She swiped it across his cheek—hard.

“That’s what’s wrong,” she uttered through clenched teeth. She held up the tissue for him to see.

“Huh?” Vincent stared at the smear of dark purple on the tissue.

“I’d know that color anywhere!” Karina wadded the tissue into a ball and hurled it to the floor.

“Karina—whoa!” Vincent started. “I—”

“Delia! She was here, wasn’t she? She knows that you and I are seeing each other—and she came over to try to steal you away from me. And you! You kissed her!”

Vincent had never seen Karina so upset. She was actually trembling.

It will be all right, he coached himself. Karina will calm down in a minute.

As long as I make up a good story …

Vincent kept his voice soft. He tried to sound calm. Innocent. “It’s not what you think,” he told Karina.

“Oh, really?” She rolled her eyes.

“Delia just showed up at my door. She needed help with her American civ homework. At least that’s what she said.”

Karina stared at him, her blue eyes cold. “That doesn’t explain the kiss.”

“You know how Delia is.” Vincent stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She does what she wants—no matter what. When she was leaving, she kissed me on the cheek. It was no big deal. Really.”

Karina sighed and walked over to the window. She’s caving, Vincent thought happily.

Luckily, she can never stay angry at me for long.

Vincent followed her. “I didn’t kiss her back or anything. It was a two-second peck on the cheek. Really.”

Karina should be ready for a hug, he thought. Ready to forgive me. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

With an angry groan, Karina yanked herself away from him. “Delia only likes you because she knows you’re mine. She wants everything I have. My grades. My clothes. My friends. She even wants you.”

Vincent watched in surprise as Karina’s eyes grew bright with tears. He reached out for her again. Karina pushed him away.

“I’m sick of Delia!” Karina cried. “I hate her! I won’t let her win this time!” Karina pulled open the front door and raced outside.

Vincent’s mouth went dry. He stared at Karina’s back as she ran out to her car.

The car door slammed shut. The headlights flicked on. The engine roared to life.

“Hey! Karina!” Vincent called finally. “Wait!”

He started to run, waving wildly to her with both hands over his head.

The car backed out of the driveway at top speed. The tires squealed against the pavement.

Vincent sprinted across the front lawn. “Karina! Stop!” he called.

The car didn’t slow. Vincent caught a glimpse of Karina’s furious face as she pulled away.

The tires squealed again as she sped around the corner. He couldn’t stop thinking about Karina’s face.

So angry.

So out of control.

What was she planning to do?

Chapter

3

“It says here that the winner of the Conklin Award has to show ex … ex …”

Delia glanced over at her best friend, Britty Myers. Britty chewed on a strand of her long, honey-colored hair as she tried to figure out the word in the brochure. “The winner has to show ex …”

“Exemplary school spirit,” Gabe Denver read over her shoulder. “It also says the winner has to be an outstanding all-around student, an accomplished performer, and a talented artist.”

He raised his eyes from the brochure and stared at Delia. His cheeks turned red. “Sounds like you’ve got it made, Delia,” he said.

“For sure,” Delia murmured, rolling her eyes.

She and her friends perched on one of the top rows of bleachers in the gym, watching an intramural basketball game. They had almost the whole section to themselves.

Delia wasn’t paying much attention to the game. She didn’t want to think about anything but Vincent. She remembered the touch of his kiss. Just imagining Vincent’s arms around her made her feel like she was about to go into a nuclear meltdown.

I wonder why he got rid of me so fast last night, she thought. One second he was begging me to stay. The next he was shoving me out the door.

Delia shook her head, tossing her long, dark curls over her shoulder. She smoothed the skirt of the dark-orange shirtdress she’d found at the local thrift shop. It had big, bright yellow flowers embroidered all the way around the hem. She loved it.

I’m probably the only girl at Shadyside High who would wear something like this, she thought.

And that’s why she bought it. She didn’t like blending into the crowd.

Delia noticed Gabe staring at her. He reminded her of a puppy waiting for a dog biscuit. She controlled the urge to pat him on the head.

She knew Gabe had sort of a crush on her. She wished he would at least ask some other girls out. She bet there were a lot of girls at Shadyside High who would like to hang out with Gabe.

Maybe even Britty? Delia gazed back and forth between her two friends. They would make a cute couple.

I doubt Gabe would appreciate me trying to fix him up, Delia thought. But I have to do something nice for him. He’s such a great guy.

Who else would have enough patience to help Delia with her homework almost every night of the week? Who else would listen to her talk about Vincent for hours at a time?

Delia thought it was sweet of Gabe. Especially since she knew he didn’t like Vincent. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Gabe felt jealous.

“Hey! Earth to Delia!” Britty bounced up and down beside Delia. She waved her hands in front of Delia’s face.

Britty was short and athletic—the best gymnast at Shadyside High. She couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Sit down, will you?” Delia asked. “I want to fix my lipstick.” She reached for her tube of Midnight Wine and touched up her lips. Then she tossed the tube back into her purse and glanced around, searching for a blotter.

Britty’s notebook lay on the seat next to her. Delia ripped a page out of it and blotted her lips against the paper.

“Delia!” Britty yelped. She popped back on her feet again. “I have to buy a new notebook practically every week because of you.”

“Oops. I know it’s a bad habit. Your next notebook is on me,” Delia said. She stared down at the deep purple lip print she had left on the sheet of paper—a smiling lip print. Smiling because I was thinking about Vincent, she decided.

Britty dropped down on the seat. “You’ve been out in the ozone somewhere since we got here. What’s your problem, anyway? We were talking about the Conklin Award. I know you’re interested in that.”

Thoughts of Vincent vanished. “I’m sorry, Britty. Even thinking about the Conklin Award makes me so nervous I can hardly stand it.”

Delia’s parents had no money to send her to college. If Delia didn’t win the Conklin Award, she would have to go to Waynesbridge Junior College in the fall. And it would even be hard to afford that.

But if she did win the Conklin Award, she could go to the hottest and most expensive fashion college in New York City. When she was twelve she decided she wanted to go there—and she’d never changed her mind.

Delia frowned. The Conklin wasn’t just an award. It was the ticket to all her dreams. The most important thing in the entire universe.

Well, except for Vincent.

“What do you think?” Delia studied her two friends. She didn’t want them to lie to her. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the truth either. “Do I have a chance at the Conklin?”

“Definitely,” Gabe told her. The buzzer ending the game sounded, and he cheered for the senior team. Kids gathered up their books and backpacks and headed out of the gym.

“Piece of cake, Delia,” Gabe continued. “No one has a better shot at the Conklin Award than you.”

Delia couldn’t help smiling. “I’m glad you think so,” she told Gabe. “But I don’t think the judges will just hand it to me. Seven kids applied for the award this year.”

She ran through the other candidates in her mind. Most of them weren’t a threat, but there were a few who stood a chance. A good chance.

“Stewart Andrews is a major problem,” she said. “He’s the best artist in the class.”

“He told me he’s doing a magic show for the talent part of the competition,” Britty put in. “Remember when he made Mr. Marsden disappear? That was cool.”

Gabe shrugged. “It was a cheap trick.”

Delia was still listing the candidates. “And then there’s Karina. She has a good chance too.”

Delia tried to make her voice sound casual. She wanted to pretend that competing against Karina didn’t bother her.

She didn’t think her friends bought it.

“Don’t worry about Karina,” Britty told her.

Easy for Britty to say, Delia thought. She doesn’t have to beat little Miss Perfect.

“Karina has a great voice. But it takes more than talent to win the Conklin,” Britty went on. “Grades are important too.”

“Yeah,” Gabe added. “And your grades are better than everyone else’s.”

“Thanks to your tutoring,” Delia said softly.

Britty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, her grades are better than yours, Gabe.”

Then her expression turned serious. “Delia, don’t get stressed about this,” she said. “Your grades are better than ever this year. And you’ve been manager of the girls’ volleyball team for two years. Plus, you were in charge of the homecoming dance.”

“And front-page editor of the school paper,” Gabe added. “And chairman of the recycling committee, and—”

“All right, all right,” Delia cried. “But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters.” She hated herself for sounding so whiny, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’m front-page editor, but Karina is editor of the whole paper,” Delia reminded her friends. “I manage the volleyball team. Karina is the star player. I was in charge of the dance. But Karina—”

“Big deal!” Gabe interrupted. “So Karina was the homecoming queen. So what? Sure, Karina is president of the senior class. And maybe Karina’s voice will blow the judges away in the talent competition. So what?”

Gabe shrugged. “Everyone thinks she’s the most beautiful girl they’ve ever seen,” he went on. “The judges will fall in love with her. Nobody else should even bother trying to win.”

Gabe turned to Delia. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Britty giggled. Delia didn’t. She knew Gabe was right.

“Get over it,” Gabe scolded. “When are you going to realize that you’re so much cooler than Karina will ever be? So what if she’s beautiful and sweet? Sweet is boring. Sweet is easy to forget. I hate sweet!”

This time Delia had to laugh.

Britty shook her head. “You know what?” she asked. “I’m kind of tired of the whole thing.”

She hopped up from the bleachers. “What’s with you two anyway? You and Karina. Why do you hate each other so much? You used to be friends.”

Delia narrowed her eyes at her best friend. How could Britty even ask that? She knew the way Delia felt about it.

“I’ve tried to be friends with Karina,” Delia pointed out. “You know that’s true, Britty.”

“Yeah, and she tries to be nice to you.” Britty rested one hand on Delia’s shoulder. “You know I’d do anything in the world for you. You’re my best friend. But Karina is my friend too. I don’t think it’s good for you guys to be fighting all the time. You get so freaked just thinking about her. And she’s the same way about you.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her!” Delia exploded. She turned to Gabe for support.

He frowned. “You and Karina did have a truce last year,” he reminded her. “You tolerated each other for almost the entire year. And before that, you actually had a friendly competition, right?”

“Yeah, but this year I caught her coming on to Vincent!” Delia replied heatedly. “I don’t trust her! She acts sweet and innocent—but she tried to steal my boyfriend. And she only did it because she couldn’t stand the fact that I had something she didn’t. That’s nasty.”

The gym door flew open and banged against the wall.

A piercing shriek echoed through the gym.

Delia’s hands flew to her mouth. She felt too shocked to say anything. All she could do was stare.

The way Gabe and Britty were staring.

Staring at Karina Frye.

Chapter

4

“What’s wrong with Karina?” Delia cried.

Karina staggered into the gym. Her usually perfect hair was tangled and wild. Streaks of black mascara ran down her cheeks. And her eyes were red—from crying?

“You!” Karina’s hoarse voice bounced off the walls of the gym. She pointed up at Delia with a trembling hand. “Delia, you witch! I hate you!”

Delia gasped as Karina staggered across the gym toward her. Breathing hard, Karina pounded up the bleachers.

Before Delia could move, Karina had her hands wrapped around Delia’s throat.

“Hey!” Delia heard Britty cry. But she sounded far away.

“You’re not going to win this time, Delia!” Karina shrieked. Her hot breath blasted Delia’s face.

Karina’s nails dug into Delia’s throat.

“Hey—!” Delia choked out. Red dots exploded in front of her eyes. She arched back, struggling to break free.

Karina let go.

Delia toppled back. Her head slammed into the hard bleacher seat behind her.

Karina crouched over her, panting like a wild animal. She grabbed Delia’s throat again.

“Let her go! Karina, stop!” Gabe yelled.

Delia struggled to free herself.

Karina’s hands twisted tighter around her throat. “You’re not going to win! You’re not going to take anything that belongs to me!” Karina cried hoarsely.

I can’t breathe, Delia realized. I can’t breathe!

Blackness edged her vision.

With her last bit of strength, Delia reached up and grabbed Karina’s ponytail.

She yanked as hard as she could.

Karina shrieked in pain and surprise. Her hands slipped off Delia’s throat.

Delia scrambled into the aisle, gasping for air. “Get her away from me!” she gasped.

Gabe reached for Karina, but she was too fast for him. She grabbed one of Delia’s long, dangling earrings. She jerked it down.

Delia screamed as pain shot through her ear. A trickle of hot blood oozed over her torn earlobe.

Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. The gym blurred in front of her.

The only thing she could see clearly was Karina’s face. Karina’s beautiful face. Twisted with anger.

Karina’s lips were pulled back over her teeth in a snarl. She raised her hands and curled them into claws. Then she threw herself at Delia.

“I’m going to kill you!” she screamed.

Chapter

5

A sour taste filled Delia’s mouth. She grabbed a handful of Karina’s expensive sweater and pushed Karina away.

Karina teetered on one of the bleacher steps.

Then Gabe wrapped his arms around her.

She went limp.

Gabe led her down to the gym floor.

Karina stared up at Delia. She began to shake. “You won’t win!” Karina sobbed. “Not this time, Delia. You won’t! I swear it!”

Delia lowered herself onto the bleachers, trying to get her breath back. She barely noticed Britty’s arm around her shoulders.

“What is she talking about? What does she mean? Why is she acting so crazy? I didn’t do anything to her,” Delia murmured to herself.

She kept her eyes on Karina.

Karina dragged her arm over her cheek—and smeared her makeup all over her sweater. “You won’t win the Conklin,” Karina promised her. “And you’ll never, never, never get Vincent. He’s mine, Delia. Mine.”

“V-Vincent?” Delia sputtered.

She felt dizzy. Her ear throbbed. Her head ached. Blood stained the sleeve of her orange dress.

Delia slowly shook her head back and forth. She struggled to understand what had just happened.

Nothing Karina said made any sense.

“Vincent?”

With Britty’s help, Delia hauled herself to her feet. “What are you talking about, Karina? What do you mean?”

Delia stared down at Karina, trying to figure everything out.

She’s crazy, Delia realized. Karina is crazy. Crazy.

“You need help, Karina,” Delia called shakily. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not the sick one!” Karina cried. “You stay away from him!”

“Girls! What is going on here?” Ms. Bates, a gym teacher, ran up to them.

“Karina attacked Delia,” Gabe told her.

“That’s because she—” Karina shrieked.

“Come with me and you can tell me all about it,” Mrs. Bates said. Then she led her across the gym.

“Delia, go get the nurse to take care of that earlobe,” the teacher called over her shoulder. “I’ll check on you in a little while.”

Delia slumped back against Britty.

Gabe climbed up the bleachers and took her hand. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I … I guess so.” Delia wondered if her voice sounded as shaky to her friends as it did to her. “She didn’t tear my earring all the way out. But why did she do that to me?”

Gabe glanced at the gym door. “I think one of us should stay with Karina. I’ll go,” he said in a rush. He turned and went running after Karina and Ms. Bates.

“I think you should rest before we try heading to the nurse,” Britty said.

“I’m scared,” Delia admitted. “I’m worried about Karina. Did you see the frightening look on her face? Did you see all that hate?”

Britty was pale, her eyes wide. She chewed tensely on a strand of her hair. “I’ve never seen Karina like that. Never. I’ve never seen anybody like that.”

“Did you hear what she said about Vincent? She really believed it. She really believes he’s her boyfriend. She’s insane. She has totally lost it. That’s the only explanation,” Delia murmured.

“I’ll talk to her later,” Britty promised. “I’ll try … I’ll try to calm her down. I’ll find out what happened. Something must have set her off.”

Delia nodded. “I’m really frightened of her. I’ve never seen anybody so out of control! What if she does something horrible?”

“Don’t worry,” Britty soothed her. “You’re safe now. Ms. Bates will talk to her parents. And Gabe is watching her. Let’s just grab our things and go to the nurse. Then we can get out of here.”

“Good idea,” Delia said. “But give me a minute. I must look awful.”

Britty laughed and shook her head. “See? You’re already starting to recover,” she answered.

Delia laughed too. “Owww, that hurts,” she complained.

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and straightened her dress. Even though her hands shook, she touched up her lipstick—perfectly.

She spotted a napkin on the bleachers. The flimsy kind they gave out with boxes of popcorn at the concession stand. Delia grabbed it and blotted her lips, then set it on the seat beside her.

This time, the lip print wasn’t smiling.

♦ ♦ ♦

“My drawings are okay, I guess,” Delia said to Vincent the next night. She tilted her head to one side and studied the pictures set up against her living room wall. “But they’re nothing compared to Stewart’s,” she added. A tiny knot formed in her stomach.

Vincent didn’t answer.

“Stewart is really into detail,” she went on. The knot grew a little bigger. “His drawings are realistic, perfect down to the last detail. Mine are more … more imaginative, I think.”

She tipped her head the other way and smiled. “Maybe they look better sideways!”

She did her big, bold drawings with markers—in the brightest, loudest colors she could find. Some of the drawings were of Delia’s own fashion designs. Wild styles. Crazy colors.

A few showed her friends. Britty whirling across the gym during her floor exercise, a blur of bright color. Gabe with his face stretched into an enormous smile, his fire-engine-red hair.

She even did a self-portrait. In it, Delia wore her favorite black miniskirt and a purple shirt just a shade lighter than her Midnight Wine lipstick. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. A wild, dark halo.

There was no drawing of Vincent.

Delia gazed at him, sitting next to her on her living room couch. She was a pretty good artist. Good enough to get into the Conklin finals. But she would never be talented enough to do justice to Vincent.

Nobody was that good.

“Vincent?” Delia urged. “Do you think my drawings are okay?”

Vincent kept staring at the basketball game on TV. He stretched and yawned. “Of course,” he mumbled. “You wouldn’t be in the finals if they sucked—would you?”

Delia watched Vincent as he spoke. He appeared bored.

No, she decided. Not bored. He’s tired and worried. We’re both still upset about Karina.

Karina hadn’t shown up for school that day. The whole school was buzzing about her. How strange Karina had looked when she attacked Delia. How hysterical she had acted. How unlike her usual sweet, responsible self.

Of course Vincent is upset. Everyone at school is upset. They are her friends. I’m her friend too, Delia thought.

“Or at least I used to be.” Delia didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until Vincent turned and stared at her.

“I was just thinking about Karina,” she explained. Delia brushed one hand tenderly over her sore ear. “We used to be such good friends. But it seems like a long time ago.” Delia sighed. “I’m worried, Vincent. Karina wasn’t just angry yesterday—she was insane! I wish you could have seen it. She said all this crazy stuff about you being her boyfriend. About how she won’t let me have you. It was so weird. “

Vincent didn’t reply.

“Vincent?” Delia prodded.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Weird.” Vincent edged closer to Delia. He flicked off the lamp on the end table and slipped one arm around her shoulders.

Any other time Delia would have been eager to lose herself in the warmth of Vincent’s arms. But that wasn’t so easy right now. She felt too unsettled, too frightened.

Delia stared into Vincent’s dark brown eyes. “I think Karina truly believes you are her boyfriend. She has convinced herself that I’m trying to take you away from her. “

Vincent shook his head. “Don’t worry about Karina. She’s basically okay.”

Delia stiffened. He thought Karina was basically okay after what she did to Delia? Delia still had bruises around her throat—and a bandage on her torn ear!

How did he know so much about Karina anyway?

Did he feel sorry for her?

Don’t be ridiculous, Delia told herself. Vincent doesn’t care about Karina. He only cares about me.

She wrapped her arms around Vincent’s neck and rubbed her cheek against his. “You won’t let this thing with Karina come between us will you?”

“Forget about Karina!” Vincent snapped. He turned and kissed her. His lips felt hard. Tense.

She ran her fingers through his hair. Delia felt her lipstick smearing, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. Except Vincent.

And the Conklin Award.

“Vincent …” Delia pushed him away and studied his face. “You’ll come visit me if I go to college in New York, right?” she asked. “You—”

Delia’s words stuck in her throat.

She stared over Vincent’s shoulder.

And gasped. “Vincent! Someone is watching us!”

Chapter

6

“Oh, Vincent!” a high voice cried.

Karina?

In my house? Delia wondered.

The lamp on the end table clicked on. Delia’s fifteen-year-old sister, Sarah, stood behind it.

“Oh, Vincent!” Sarah mimicked in a high, swooning voice. “Karina is going to come between us. Vincent, promise me she won’t!”

“Sarah! You little creep!”

Delia leaped off the couch and grabbed her sister’s arm. “You’re not funny! You’re really not funny at all! What are you doing in here?”

Sarah pushed Delia away. “It’s my house too,” she sneered. “I don’t need your permission to be here.”

Delia narrowed her eyes at her sister. Sometimes she couldn’t even believe they were related. They were about the same height, with the same dark hair and brown eyes.

But Sarah had no clue about makeup or how to dress. Tonight she wore baggy jeans and an ancient Girl Scout T-shirt that said “Make New Friends but Keep the Old” across the front in big green letters.

Delia rolled her eyes. What was Sarah’s problem?

“You’re supposed to be at swimming practice,” she told her sister. “What are you doing home? Why don’t you go get a life instead of spying on us?”

Sarah stuck out her tongue at Delia.

“Oh, real mature!” Delia snapped. “Are you fifteen or five?”

“Five,” Sarah shot back. “Like your IQ.”

“Come on, guys,” Vincent interrupted. He stood up. “Give us a break, Sarah. We’re trying to talk.”

“How can you talk with your lips pressed together?” Sarah replied nastily. She laughed at her own cleverness.

“You’re just jealous,” Delia snapped. “Because you haven’t been out with a guy all year!”

Sarah gasped.

Delia instantly regretted her words.

I shouldn’t have said that, she scolded herself. Sarah is so sensitive about how the guys at Shadyside aren’t interested in her.

“Satisfied?” Sarah snapped at Delia. “Satisfied now that you’ve totally embarrassed me in front of Vincent? Are you happy now?”

“I’m sorry—” Delia started.

But her sister didn’t let her get the words out. “I hate you!” Sarah screamed.

With an angry cry, Sarah kicked the portrait of Gabe. It toppled over onto its face. The drawing of Britty skittered across the floor.

“Leave those alone!” Delia cried. “I need those pictures for the Conklin Award!”

With another cry of anger, Sarah grabbed Delia’s self-portrait and ran out of the room.

“Hey—come back!” Delia and Vincent leapt up and chased after Sarah.

When they reached the hall, Sarah was already halfway up the stairs.

Delia stopped at the bottom and slammed the banister with one fist. “Sarah, give me a break!” she cried. “Give it back. You know I didn’t mean—”

“No way!”

Sarah didn’t turn around. She stomped the rest of the way up the stairs.

“Fine,” Delia snapped. “Have it your way. Just don’t spy on us anymore.”

Sarah stopped on the landing and spun around. She glared down at Delia.

“Oh, I won’t.” She sneered. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze slid from Delia to Vincent. “I’ll do something much better than spy,” Sarah continued. “That’s a promise.”

A chill stiffened the back of Delia’s neck.

“Sarah—what did you say?” she cried. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

Chapter

7

At school the next afternoon Delia found herself thinking about Sarah as she searched her locker for her geology notebook.

I should never have embarrassed her in front of Vincent like that, Delia realized. I’ve never seen Sarah so angry.

So angry she hadn’t spoken to Delia since. And she hadn’t returned the drawing.

Delia had other drawings she could use to replace the self-portrait—but she didn’t like them as much.

She sighed. The contest would be so close. She needed every advantage she could get.

But she felt so distracted all the time. She kept thinking about Karina. And now she had to worry about her sister too.

On her hands and knees, Delia searched the cluttered floor of the locker. What did I do with that notebook? she thought. I’m spacing out way too much. I can’t let my grades slip now. I’ve worked so hard.

“So I was wondering if you want to hang out or something on Saturday,” a low voice said.

“Excuse me?” Delia straightened up so fast, she banged her head against the top shelf of her locker. She turned and saw Stewart Andrews staring at her.

Stewart Andrews—her stiffest competition for the Conklin Award. Besides Karina.

Delia leaned back against the locker and studied Stewart’s face. “What did you say?” she asked.

Stewart pushed a lock of black hair out of his eyes. “I asked if you wanted to do something Saturday night.” He grinned at her shyly.

He’s cute, Delia thought. Really cute.

“You mean … go out?” Delia heard her voice squeak. “Well …”

What am I doing? she thought. I already have a boyfriend!

“I thought it would be good to chill out. You know. Before Monday’s talent competition,” Stewart said. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend the whole weekend biting my fingernails. I figure Sunday will give me enough time for that,” he joked.

Over Stewart’s shoulder, Delia spotted Vincent striding down the hall. She felt her pulse speed up. The way it always did when she saw him.

She quickly checked her lipstick in the mirror on her locker door. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blotted her lips, then swung the locker door shut.

“I’m sorry, Stewart,” she said, gazing over his shoulder. Vincent waved and kept walking. “But I can’t go out with you. Vincent and I are …”

“Oh.” Stewart’s smile faded. “Okay. No problem.” He blushed. “See you Monday then,” he said. He started down the hall. “At the talent competition.”

“Yeah. Okay. Bye.” Delia watched him go. Weird, she thought. Stewart must know I’m going with Vincent. Everyone knows I’m going with Vincent.

Don’t they?

Frowning, Delia hurried over to the library to return a book. Then she climbed the steps to the second floor classrooms. She had this period free, but she had promised to meet Britty in the geology lab. They needed to go over their notes before the test tomorrow.

She turned down the hallway—and heard someone say her name softly. Delia checked the hall in both directions. Empty.

But she noticed that the door of the storage room stood open. Delia crept closer. She thought she heard someone say her name again.

Delia pressed her back against the wall and shot a quick glance into the storage room.

Stewart stood inside—deep in conversation with someone. Delia couldn’t see who. Stewart wore a serious expression, and he gestured with his hands as he talked.

A girl’s voice murmured a reply to him.

Who is he talking to? Is he asking someone else out already? Delia wondered.

Stewart shifted his position.

Delia leaned forward.

Peered into the dark little room.

And gasped as the other person came into view.

Chapter

8

Karina?

He’s talking to Karina? In secret?

Peeking into the doorway, Delia studied Karina’s face. Saw her angry expression.

They’re talking about me, Delia realized. I know I heard my name. They are planning something.

Delia felt sure she knew what it was.

“You’re late.” The voice made Delia jump. She saw Britty step up beside her. “What’s up?” Britty asked. “You were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.”

Delia grabbed Britty by the arm and pulled her into the geology lab. She shut the door behind them.

“I’ll tell you what’s up,” Delia whispered. “Karina and Stewart Andrews are talking to each other in that storage room. I think she sent him to ask me out. She’s trying to use him to break up me and Vincent.”

Britty nibbled on the end of her French braid. “I don’t get it.”

Delia swept a pile of rocks to one end of the first table and slammed down her books. “Stewart just asked me out.”

Britty lifted her eyebrows. “And you’re upset about that?” She shook her head and laughed. “Being asked out by Stewart doesn’t sound so bad to me. At least half the girls in school would like to go out with him.”

“You don’t get it.”

The more she thought about it, the more furious Delia felt. “I said no to him. And the first thing he did is run upstairs to report to Karina,” she told Britty. “Don’t you see? Karina talked him into it! She thought I’d say yes. Karina actually thought I would go out with Stewart! She did it to get me out of the way—so she could have Vincent all to herself.”

Delia began pacing up and down the lab room. Britty followed her. “Delia—”

“I should go over there and tell her I know what she did,” Delia interrupted. “But I won’t. The last thing I need is another scene with Karina. She is so out of control. She would probably try to kill me again!”

“Delia?” Britty tried again.

“What?” Delia asked impatiently. She stopped pacing and turned to her friend.

“Um, Delia, don’t get angry if I ask you this—okay?”

Delia nodded.

Britty nervously tapped her fingers on the table. “Why would Stewart agree to help Karina? It doesn’t make sense.”

Delia stared at Britty for a second. Then she slumped back against a lab station. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.

“It’s hard to believe, but Stewart might have asked you out because he likes you,” Britty said. “You probably heard him talking to Karina about the Conklin Award or something. Your name would have come up.”

“But why were they talking in the storage closet?” Delia demanded.

“It’s not the strangest thing Karina has done this week, right?” Britty made her way to the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. “Stewart is leaving,” she reported. “But I don’t see Karina. Maybe she’s still in there.”

Delia groaned. “Karina is nuts,” she said. “And she’s making me as crazy as she is! You can tell me. I’ve been acting insane lately myself.”

Britty turned to face her. “Well, you have been a little stressed,” she admitted. Delia and Britty both laughed.

“I’m stopping right now,” Delia promised. “All the Conklin judging will be over soon. Maybe then things will get back to normal.”

Britty took another peek out the door. “She’s still in there. What is she doing? There is nothing in that storage room but broken furniture and cleaning stuff.”

“I’m so sick of trying to figure out what Karina is doing,” Delia sighed. “And in a weird way, I’m starting to feel sorry for her. She is ruining her whole senior year—just because she feels she has to compete with me every minute. You know, competing with Karina used to be kind of fun. It pushed us both to try harder.”

“Ssshh!” Britty whispered. “She’s coming out!”

Delia hurried over to Britty. They peeked out the door and watched as Karina stopped at a water fountain.

“Britty!” Delia whispered. “Maybe we can help Karina. Maybe you could talk to her. You know. Explain how much Vincent and I care about each other.”

Britty chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know—”

“You could tell her that I’m not angry at her,” Delia continued. “That everything is cool with us—as long as she doesn’t do anything else to try and split Vincent and me up.”

Britty shook her head. “I tried,” she said. “I stopped by her house on my way home. She didn’t want to listen. She told me to go away.”

Delia groaned. “She is so messed up. Well … there’s nothing more I can do. If she won’t talk to you, she definitely won’t talk to me. I’ll just have to stay as far away from her as I can.”

Delia watched Karina make her way down the hall with her head held high. Her blond hair gleamed in the overhead lights.

Her dark pleated pants and two-piece pink sweater set were way too conservative. Delia wouldn’t be caught dead in the outfit. But she had to admit, on Karina it looked good. Better than good.

“Try talking to her again,” Delia pleaded with Britty. “She might listen to you, and she’ll never listen to me. Talk to her one more time.”

“I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” Britty insisted.

“Please?” Delia begged. She knew that Britty would give in.

“Oh, all right.” Britty sighed. “Stop looking like a sick puppy. I’ll go talk to her.”

Delia grinned. “Thanks, Brit. I just want Karina to be okay—and leave me alone.”

Britty forced a smile to her face and stepped out into the hall. Delia hid in the doorway and watched her friend.

“Here goes nothing,” Britty murmured. She took a deep breath. Then she called out loudly, “Hey, Karina! Wait up!”

Chapter

9

“Hey, Karina! Wait up. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Britty called. “Want to hang out after school today?”

“I don’t know,” Karina replied. “I have a voice lesson at five, and I’m supposed to study with Stewart before that. What did you want to do?”

Britty bent to tie her shoelace, forcing Karina to stop walking while she waited.

“Good move,” Delia whispered to herself. If they went too far down the hall, I wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“I thought we could go to the mall or something,” Britty said as she fiddled with her sneaker. “Or just talk. You know, the way we used to.”

“Talk?” Karina asked. “About what?”

Britty glanced at the doorway where Delia hid. She cleared her throat. “Oh, come on, Karina. You know I’m Delia’s best friend. We’re all friends, right? I think we need to talk about what happened in the gym the other day.”

Delia watched Karina laugh. “Oh, that! I lost it for a moment. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Britty’s voice rose. “You almost strangled Delia!”

Delia felt a chill run up her back as she studied Karina’s serene expression. She doesn’t even care if she hurt me, Delia realized. Does she even remember what happened?

“You need to talk to somebody, Karina,” Britty urged her. “It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe then you would realize you’re not acting …” Britty hesitated. “You’d realize …”

“Realize what?” Karina asked impatiently. “That Delia isn’t willing to face reality?”

Delia gasped.

Britty glanced nervously toward the lab room. “Karina—” she began.

“Tell your best friend Delia something for me,” Karina said softly, so softly Delia could barely hear her. “Tell her she’ll never win the Conklin. I guarantee it. And she won’t get Vincent away from me either.”

Delia’s stomach flipped over. It was bad enough hearing Karina say that when she went nuts in the gym.

But now she sounded so much like the regular Karina. Normal and confident.

Except that her words were still crazy. She still thought that she and Vincent were a couple.

Delia closed her eyes, fighting against the icy feeling creeping into her stomach. She swallowed hard.

If Karina thought she and Vincent were a couple, what would she do to keep him?

“Did you hear me, Delia?” Karina called loudly.

Delia’s eyes flew open.

“I know you’re standing there listening,” Karina called. “Listen all you want. Do you really want to hear something?”

Her voice grew shrill, angry. “I’ll give you something to listen to, Delia. I’ll do anything. Do you hear me? I’ll do anything to keep you from winning!”

♦ ♦ ♦

Will I be able to fall asleep? Delia wondered.

Or will I lie awake all night thinking about the talent competition tomorrow?

Maybe I should get out of bed and tune my guitar again.

She sat up.

No. I’ve tuned it twice. It wasn’t out of tune to begin with.

Maybe I should rehearse a little more. Go over my song.

No. I practically know it backward and forward.

Delia let her head slump back onto the pillow. She shut her eyes tightly.

Sleep. Sleep.

I’ll never win the talent competition if I yawn in the middle of my song.

She rolled onto her side. Her legs were tangled in the bedsheet.

I wonder what Karina is doing right now, Delia thought. I wonder if she is staring up at the ceiling, as awake as I am. Worrying about tomorrow.

No way. She’s probably been asleep for an hour.

She probably went right to sleep because she knew I’d be wide awake!

Crazy thoughts …

Don’t go paranoid, Delia scolded herself.

She shut her eyes again and forced herself to think about popcorn. Soft, fluffy popcorn—piles and piles of it—floating down from the sky, covering the ground like snow.

Popcorn. So soft. So silent …

It always worked.

A few minutes later she drifted into a light sleep.

Some time later, she blinked herself awake. And jerked her head up from the warm pillow.

What was that sound?

A scraping sound.

Delia turned to the doorway, instantly alert.

A scraping sound. Followed by a cough.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice choked with sleep.

A footstep. But no reply.

In the gray light from the open bedroom door, Delia saw a dark form move toward her.

“Who is it?”

No reply.

Delia started to sit up.

But before she could move, a hand covered her mouth and nose. Squeezed her cheeks. Pressed down, keeping her from crying out.

Delia twisted her head, arched her body. Tried to slide out from under the hand.

But the hand gripped too tightly for her to escape. The palm closed over Delia’s nose, blocking the air.

Struggling, squirming, thrashing her legs, Delia stared up at her attacker.

Saw the light hair. The narrowed, determined eyes.

And recognized her.

Karina!

With an angry burst of power, Delia raised both arms—and batted Karina’s hand away.

“Karina—” Delia choked out hoarsely. “Karina—what are you doing?”

Karina’s eyes flashed in the darkness. And then Delia saw another flash.

A metallic flash at Karina’s waist.

The shape of a small pistol.

“This won’t hurt, Delia,” Karina whispered.

Delia sank back helplessly as Karina raised the pistol. Raised it over Delia’s head.

“This won’t hurt,” Karina rasped. “You won’t feel a thing.”

Chapter

10

The glint of silver rose higher.

Delia stared up in horror. Waited for the explosion. Waited for the pain.

“Ohh!” She gasped as she realized she wasn’t staring up at a pistol.

Karina held a silvery tube of lipstick in her hand.

“Karina—wait!” Delia pleaded.

She felt Karina’s other hand press down on her chest.

And then Karina lowered the lipstick tube. Lowered it. Pressed the lipstick hard against Delia’s cheek.

Delia felt the lipstick smear down her cheek. Across her chin.

She struggled to sit up. But Karina held her down.

Smearing the sticky lipstick over Delia’s forehead now. Rubbing it in her ears. Pushing it along the sides of Delia’s nose.

“Karina—stop!” Delia begged.

“Stop. Please—stop. Please. Why are you doing this? Stop! Please!”

As she begged, Delia suddenly realized that she was dreaming.

She was in the dream—and outside the dream at the same time.

She willed herself awake. Opened her eyes.

Her face tingled.

She sat up and rubbed her hands over her face.

No lipstick. No Karina and no lipstick. Just a dream.

Just a frightening dream …

“Karina, I’m afraid of you when I’m awake. And now you frighten me in my sleep,” Delia murmured.

What am I going to do?

What am I going to do?

♦ ♦ ♦

Delia was number seven.

Last.

Shifting slightly in the springy auditorium seat, she crossed her legs. She banged into Britty. “Sorry,” Delia murmured. She uncrossed her legs.

“Sit still, will you?” Britty whispered, keeping her eyes on the stage where Stewart was performing his magic act. “You wanted to perform last.”

“I thought I would be able to relax and check out the competition,” Delia whispered back. “But this is making me nuts!”

Delia applauded mechanically as Stewart pulled his pet beagle out of a top hat.

Britty giggled. “How did he get the dog in there in the first place?”

“How should I know?” Delia mumbled. She crossed her legs again.

“Relax,” Britty ordered.

“Great advice,” Delia said, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to my stomach.” She uncrossed her legs again.

Delia held her hands up in front of Britty. “My palms are sweating. My hands are shaking. There’s no way I’m going to be able to play the guitar. And how am I ever going to be able to sing my song?”

Britty started to chew on a strand of her long hair. “Stop it, okay? You’re making me nervous!” she exclaimed.

Delia scraped her wet palms against her black skirt. Then she reached for her purse and pulled out a little mirror.

She checked her Midnight Wine lipstick—for about the millionth time. She straightened her brightly colored brocade vest. She tugged down the sleeves of her white blouse.

If only she didn’t have to go last.

I wish I could fast-forward my life, she thought.

“Abracadabra!” Stewart whipped away the silk cloth he had draped over his hand. A red-and-yellow parrot perched on his fingers.

Delia applauded along with the rest of the audience. About thirty or forty kids had stayed after school to watch the talent competition.

He’s good, Delia thought. He pulls off some great tricks. But his act isn’t too original.

Karina has a better voice. She’s going to score much higher. But if the judges give me some points for writing my own song, I have a shot at winning the talent section, Delia decided.

“Where did he get a parrot?” Britty laughed.

Stewart bowed and everyone applauded some more. Then he collected his props from around the stage. He appeared relieved as he carried them off.

Delia’s stomach tightened. Closer. The big moment was getting closer. Only one more number to sit through. She wondered how she’d ever get through it—especially since it was Karina’s.

“I wish Vincent could be here,” Delia said. “But he said his mom was making him take his little brother to the dentist. Can you believe it?”

“Well, I’m here to cheer you on,” Britty reminded her. “And Gabe is right backstage. He promised that you’ll look great under the lights he set up for your song.”

Two boys rolled a massive grand piano onto the stage. “Karina’s piano,” Britty explained. “I heard she had it shipped from her house especially for today.”

Delia shook her head. This gets worse and worse every second, she thought. An older woman sat down at the piano and started playing scales.

“Karina’s voice coach,” Britty announced.

Delia gripped the arms of her seat and gazed at Karina. She sat in the front row, and appeared calm and cool. And blond and beautiful.

As if she could feel Delia’s eyes on her, Karina turned. Her lips started to pull back in a sneer. Then she must have remembered the judges. She smiled brightly and waved.

“What a phony,” Delia muttered to Britty.

Delia thought about what had happened last week. How Karina had caught her eavesdropping. How Karina had threatened her.

Since then, she had passed Karina in the halls several times. And every time Karina acted so sweet, it made Delia’s stomach ache.

The judges called Karina’s name. Delia watched her stand and make her way up to the stage.

“Same dress she wore to homecoming,” Britty muttered.

Yeah, Delia thought. The same beautiful dress. Blue satin that clung to Karina’s slender figure.

Karina glided to the center of the stage. She introduced her song. Her voice sounded steady and confident. Then she stepped back while her accompanist played the introduction.

When Karina started to sing, everybody in the auditorium sat spellbound. “Wow!” Britty breathed.

Karina didn’t just have a good voice. She had a fabulous voice—clear and pure. Even though Delia didn’t understand one word of the Italian song Karina sang, she knew it was a love song. A beautiful love song.

Beautiful. Just like Karina.

Trying hard to appear casual, Delia turned in her seat. She had to see the judges’ reactions. The three judges sat at the side, smiling as they stared up at the stage.

As Delia turned back, she noticed someone staring at her from down the row. She leaned forward, craning her neck to see past Britty.

“Sarah?” she whispered. “What is Sarah doing here?”

“Shh!” Britty nudged her in the side.

“But why would Sarah …?”

“She’s your kid sister,” Britty whispered. “Of course she’s here. She wants to see how you do.”

“Right.” That proved Britty didn’t know Sarah too well. “Any normal sister would want to see how I do. But Sarah isn’t normal, remember?”

“Shh.” The girl sitting in front of Delia turned around and raised a finger to her lips.

Embarrassed, Delia sank back in her seat. Then she stared down the row again.

Her sister was staring hard at her. And she had the strangest smile on her lips.

A pleased smile.

Is she happy that Karina is doing so well? Delia wondered. Did Sarah come here to see me lose?

Why is she smiling like that?

Delia’s thoughts snapped away from Sarah when the audience burst into applause. Applause that went on and on. She blinked and stared up at the stage. Karina smiled graciously.

Delia didn’t wait to see any more. She couldn’t stand it.

Before the judges called her name, she jumped out of her seat. She made her way backstage and grabbed her guitar case.

Gabe came hurrying over from the light control panel. “You’re going to do great,” he whispered in her ear. Then he trotted back to his post.

Delia watched the boys roll the piano off the stage. They set a tall stool in its place. She sucked in a deep breath, and forced herself to let it out slowly.

You have to pretend this is no big deal, she told herself.

“Delia Easton?” one of the judges called.

I’ll pretend I’m at home, singing for Britty and Gabe. And Vincent, she thought. I really wish Vincent were here.

Delia held her head high and strolled out onstage. “For today’s talent competition, I’ve written an original song,” she said into the microphone.

She could barely see into the dark auditorium. But as she searched for the judges’ faces, Delia’s gaze fell on Karina. She had returned to her seat in the first row. Stewart sat beside her.

Don’t let her get to you, Delia told herself. She gave Karina a smile. “It’s a song about a boy and a girl and how much they mean to each other. It’s called ‘Vincent.’”

Delia set her guitar case on top of the stool. She turned her back to the audience and unsnapped the clasps.

She flipped open the lid.

Stared down at the guitar.

And started to scream.

Chapter

11

The strings.

The strings. They had all been cut.

Cut in half.

They hung over the bridge of the guitar.

And the scrawled words glowed up at Delia.

Words scribbled in wet red paint across her guitar: HA HA.

Delia’s scream caught in her throat. She gaped at the guitar. Blinked. Blinked again. As if trying to erase the picture.

As if trying to force the ugly sight away. And return the guitar to normal.

“Ohhh.” She uttered a low moan as her eyes stopped at the hole in the center of the guitar.

What was that stuffed in the hole? Crumpled gray rags?

No.

No. No. No!

A rat. A decomposing rat. Its head jammed inside the guitar. Its pink tail and scrawny legs poking straight up.

“Nooooo!” Delia’s hands shot up to her face. She bumped the guitar case. The guitar toppled out. Hit the stage floor.

The rat bounced out—and dropped with a soft plop on Delia’s shoe.

She kicked it away. The tattered gray body sailed only a foot or two. The sunken rat eyes stared up at her accusingly.

Suddenly feeling sick, Delia sank to her knees on the stage.

Now she could see the rat more clearly. See the mangy patches where its hair had fallen out. See the strips of skin peeling away from its body. See the dried blood caked on its back.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. But the sound wasn’t enough to block out the sounds she heard from the audience.

Startled cries. Screams. Gasps of surprise. Murmured confusion.

Footsteps thudded toward her. Then Gabe gently pulled her to her feet and helped her off the stage.

Britty ran over to them. “Delia! What happened? Are you all right?”

Delia didn’t answer. She stared at the front row. Karina hadn’t moved. Her lips were parted. Her eyes wide. She appeared so innocent. Little Miss Innocent.

Delia uttered a screech of fury and hurtled over to Karina. “How could you?” Delia’s voice shook. Her body trembled.

She pictured the rat jammed into her guitar hole, the scrawled HA HA. She glared at Karina. “How could you?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Karina demanded calmly.

“I know you did it!” Delia shrieked.

Karina shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know what—”

“That innocent act isn’t going to work on me. You did this!” Delia cried.

“That’s enough, girls.” A stern-faced judge stepped between them. “We’ll find out what happened—and we’ll deal with it.”

Karina stood up and met Delia’s gaze. “I don’t need any tricks,” she said softly. “Not to beat you.” She walked away without another word.

Delia watched Karina stride up the aisle. To Delia’s surprise, Karina stopped at Sarah’s seat. She smiled at Sarah—then leaned close to speak to her.

Sarah nodded. Then, without looking at Delia, she stood up and walked out of the auditorium with Karina.

“I don’t believe it.” Delia gasped. “Karina and my sister?”

She turned to the stage—and caught a glimpse of Stewart in the wings. Was he smiling? Was that a grin on his face?

She squinted hard. She couldn’t see him well in the shadows.

“I’m just gathering up my props,” he called. He walked over and crouched down on the edge of the stage so he could talk to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Delia mumbled. “I’m fine. It—it was just such a shock. I couldn’t believe someone would—”

“Are they going to let you make up the talent section?” he interrupted.

“Of course they will! They have to! Somebody deliberately kept her from performing!” Gabe exploded.

Stewart held up his hands. “Stupid question,” he admitted. “It’s just the first thing I would ask if the same thing happened to me.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Britty said impatiently.

“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “We can get a soda or something while we wait to hear what the judges want you to do.”

Delia wrapped her arms around herself as they headed outside. But that didn’t stop the chills from running through her body.

“I guess Karina meant it when she said she would do anything to win,” Britty said softly.

Gabe wrapped his arm around Delia’s shoulders. “We’re your official bodyguards from now on,” Gabe joked.

“Definitely,” Britty said. “Where you go, we go. At least until the Conklin Award is given out.”

“I think Karina wants more than that,” Delia told her friends. “She wants the award. And Vincent. And everything I have. Everything. She wants my life!”

Her friends tried to comfort her. But Delia could barely hear their soothing words.

Once again, she pictured the cut guitar strings.

The decaying rat stuffed in the guitar hole, its scrawny legs poking out.

Once again, she pictured Karina’s face. So innocent.

So phony.

What am I going to do? Delia asked herself.

What can I do?

Chapter

12

Delia pulled the red Jetta into her driveway. She couldn’t wait to take a long, hot bath—with her favorite jasmine bath oil. And then crawl into bed and take a long nap.

She didn’t want to think anymore—about anything. Not about Karina. Or about having to perform her song for the judges next week.

If only she could stop picturing her ruined guitar, the cut strings, the disgusting, decaying rat with its eyes sunken in its head.

Who is the real rat? Delia wondered.

Who is the rat who did that to me?

Was it Karina? Would she really go that far to win?

Delia picked up her purse and climbed out of the car. A light snow had fallen during the talent contest. She carefully made her way over the slick surface to the front door.

“Hey!”

A note. Taped to the storm door, with her name written on the front in big red letters.

It’s from Vincent! she saw. She recognized his handwriting immediately.

Delia tore off the note and unfolded it. “I know you were awesome,” she read out loud. “I wish I could have been there. Let’s celebrate tonight. How about Red Heat?”

Wow. Red Heat was the hottest dance club in Shadyside.

Suddenly Delia didn’t feel the least bit tired.

But what should I wear? she thought.

My black suede miniskirt, she decided. With the black suede fringed vest over my purple lace bodysuit. And those funky red platform shoes I found at the thrift store.

Perfect.

But Britty had borrowed her black skirt a few weeks ago and hadn’t returned it yet.

Delia turned around and headed back to her car. It wouldn’t take long to drive over to Britty’s house in North Hills.

She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. Then she backed down the driveway and headed for Britty’s house.

As she drove, she forced the ugly thoughts from her mind. And thought only about Vincent. And about spending a night at Red Heat with him.

Delia parked in front of Britty’s and hurried up the front walk. She rang the bell.

A few seconds later Britty answered the door in a chocolate-stained apron. White cake flour streaked her honey-blond hair.

Delia burst out laughing. “What are you doing? Aren’t you and Gabe supposed to be studying history?”

“Well, we’re kind of baking chocolate chip cookies instead,” Britty admitted. She led Delia into the kitchen.

Gabe grinned at her, his cheeks dusted with flour.

“What did you do—take a bath in cookie dough?” Delia cried.

“Uh, we had a flour fight,” Gabe confessed.

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Britty said. She stepped in front of the kitchen table, as if she could keep Delia from noticing the bowls and measuring cups and ingredients scattered everywhere.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Gabe added. He glanced at Delia and blushed. “For you.”

Delia shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“We wanted to make you feel better,” Britty explained. “After everything that happened to day …” She scratched her nose and left a white circle of flour on it. “We thought cookies might cheer you up.”

A lump formed in Delia’s throat. Such good friends.

“You guys!” Delia hugged them both. “That’s so sweet of you!” Then she added bitterly, “But the only thing that will make me feel better is getting even with Karina.”

“Oh, come on,” Britty patted Delia’s arm, smearing flour on her blouse. “Chocolate chips help everything.”

“Yeah!” Gabe agreed. “They will even help you do great on your second singing audition.” The oven timer chimed. He grabbed a pot holder and dragged out a steaming cookie sheet.

“Wow. Does that smell great?” He used a spatula to lift the cookies onto a plate.

“Delia, you aren’t really thinking about trying to get revenge on Karina, are you?” Gabe asked. His expression turned solemn. “If you do, you’ll be just like her. You’re too good for that.”

Gabe blew on a cookie and then tasted it. “Ow. Hot!”

“Besides, it would be dangerous,” Britty chimed in. “Karina is really out of control.”

“Britty is right,” Gabe said. “Stay as far away from her as you can. Leave her completely alone.”

Delia sighed. “You’re right. I don’t even know that she was the one who ruined my guitar.”

“Have a cookie,” Gabe said. “Cookies solve all problems.”

♦ ♦ ♦

On the drive home, Delia thought about what her friends had said.

They were right. And she knew it.

She had to stay calm. She couldn’t start acting crazy like Karina.

Tonight I’m going to forget everything but having fun, she decided. She glanced over at the bag on the seat next to her. The one with her black suede miniskirt in it.

Tonight I won’t worry about the Conklin Award, or college, or anything else that will ruin my mood.

And that definitely included Karina!

Delia turned the corner onto Park Drive—and gasped.

Karina!

She stood just past the corner beside a tall guy. A tall guy with wavy brown hair. Vincent!

Vincent leaned close, his head almost touching Karina’s.

Delia slowed down to study them.

They stopped. Karina wrapped her arms around Vincent.

“No!” Delia cried.

She watched them kiss. A long, slow kiss.

With an angry cry, Delia slammed her foot down on the brake pedal—and missed.

She hit the accelerator.

“Nooooo!”

She spun the wheel hard as the car skidded out of control.

It hit an icy patch—and slid sideways over the snowy street.

Delia’s head whirled.

She hit another patch of ice. The car spun again.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting for control. The car picked up speed as it moved downhill.

Delia saw the tree loom in the windshield.

Then she felt the hard jolt.

Heard the crunch of glass and metal.

And everything went black.

Chapter

13

Everything went black because the air bag inflated in her face.

Delia’s head snapped back and hit the headrest.

Then she jerked forward. The seatbelt dug into her waist.

The air bag pressed against her face.

She struggled to pull in a deep breath.

“Delia? Delia, can you hear me?” someone yelled.

Delia struggled to push herself away from the air bag. The car door swung open—and Karina leaned inside.

Karina gripped Delia’s shoulder. “Delia,” she asked, “are you okay?”

Delia shook her head. She pushed her hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand. “I-I think so.” She strained to see around the airbag. “Is the car—?”

“It’s not bad.” Karina told her. “You’ve got a big dent in the hood. And one headlight is smashed. Nothing serious. As long as you’re okay.”

“Where’s Vincent?” Delia stared past Karina. She searched the sidewalk.

No sign of Vincent.

“I saw Vincent with you.” Delia’s voice cracked. “Where is he?”

“He went to call your parents.” Karina pointed to a nearby house. “Over there.”

Delia dragged herself out of the car. Her legs wobbled. Her fingers ached because she had gripped the steering wheel so tightly.

But she didn’t have any broken bones. She didn’t feel as if she had a concussion or anything.

“Wow. A close one.” Karina gazed at the tree. “If you were going a little faster, that tree would have ended up in the front seat with you.”

A frightening thought.

Delia turned away from the car and the tree. She found herself staring at Karina.

“I—” Delia and Karina began at the same time.

“I mean—” They did it again.

“You first,” Karina said.

“Okay,” Delia agreed. “I saw …” She couldn’t make herself say it. She couldn’t make herself say that she saw Vincent and Karina kiss. The words were too painful. “I saw you and Vincent together. I didn’t know …”

“That he’s been going out with both of us?” Karina finished the sentence for her. “No, I didn’t either. Not until a few days ago—when I saw your lipstick on him.”

“I guess he never promised you he didn’t go out with other girls,” Delia said.

“No. He didn’t lie.” Karina’s blue eyes flashed with anger. “But he made it easy for me to believe what I wanted to believe. He should have told me. He should have told you too. He lied to both of us.”

“I guess we don’t have anything to fight over anymore,” Karina said softly. “I mean … we both know the truth about Vincent.”

“Nothing to fight over. Except the Conklin Award,” Delia pointed out.

It was true and they both knew it. Silence settled between them.

“Karina—”

“Delia—”

They started to speak at the same time again.

“You first this time,” Delia laughed.

Color washed over Karina’s cheeks. “I’ve been acting crazy. I feel horrible about attacking you in the gym that day. And saying those awful things to you. I totally lost it. I admit it. But I didn’t ruin your guitar! I swear. Let’s have a truce, okay?”

Delia studied Karina carefully. She appeared sincere enough. But with Karina it was hard to tell. She always looked like Little Miss Innocent.

“Okay,” Delia agreed. That didn’t mean she had to trust Karina completely.

“So, are you going to be all right here?” Karina asked. “I have to get home.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Delia said. “I was lucky.”

She watched Karina hurry away, her blond hair blowing in the snowy air.

A few moments later Vincent appeared from the house across the street and headed toward her. Delia’s pulse sped up—the way it always did when she saw him.

My truce with Karina doesn’t mean I have to give Vincent up. We’ll have a fantastic time at Red Heat. I’ll throw him the best birthday party in the universe. And pretty soon he won’t even remember her.

♦ ♦ ♦

“You know I wanted to go to Red Heat with you. It was my idea—wasn’t it? But I can’t go tonight. We’ll go this weekend, I promise.”

Vincent held the phone away from his ear. He didn’t bother listening to Delia’s reply. He knew exactly what she would say.

She would ask what could possibly be more important than their night at Red Heat.

She would say it wasn’t fair. She had a great new outfit picked out just for him.

She would remind him what a horrible day she had.

But it wouldn’t work. Not tonight.

“Delia—” Vincent interrupted. “I can’t get out of it. I’m really, really sorry.”

Vincent swallowed hard. Maybe this is a mistake, he thought. Maybe I should go dancing with her tonight.

He couldn’t shake the picture of Karina and Delia talking together. That afternoon he had watched them through the window when he went to call Delia’s parents.

What were they telling each other?

If Delia and Karina became friends again, it would totally mess up his life.

Vincent shifted nervously against the cushions of his family room couch. “I saw you and Karina having an intense conversation out by your car today. Karina didn’t tell you … she didn’t tell you we were going together or anything, did she? If she did …”

He drew in a long breath and tried to sound casual. “If that’s what Karina told you, then we really need to set things straight.”

Vincent shook his head sadly, the way he would if Delia were sitting next to him. “She’s obviously messed up. I mean, the way she attacked you in the gym. And the rat in your guitar …”

Vincent decided he needed to explain the kiss—in case Delia did see it. “You won’t believe what she did to me today. When I ran into her on Park Drive, she grabbed my face and kissed me. She’s pathetic.”

“I knew it couldn’t be true!” Delia exclaimed. “She did say you were seeing each other. I actually believed her! I must have been shaky from the accident.”

Vincent shifted the phone to his other ear. “You don’t need to worry about me and Karina,” he assured her. He lowered his voice the way he always did when he whispered in Delia’s ear. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Then let’s go out tonight. You can convince your parents,” Delia said.

“I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to get out of it. The carpet cleaners will be here first thing in the morning. My mom is going ballistic because all this heavy furniture has to be moved. You understand, don’t you, Delia?”

“I guess.”

Vincent could tell she felt disappointed. But at least she wasn’t angry anymore. “And you’ll let me make it up to you, right?”

He didn’t wait for Delia to answer. “See you tomorrow,” he added quickly. And hung up.

Vincent felt a little out of breath. “That wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” he admitted. “She was really angry.”

“She’ll get over it.” The girl next to Vincent snuggled closer to him. “She always does.”

Vincent nodded. He forgot all about Delia and slid his arm around the girl’s shoulders. He gave her a big smile. The Vincent-Milano-trademark smile.

The girl giggled. She kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Vincent laughed. “You’re really evil, Sarah.”

Chapter

14

“Nervous. Nervous. Nervous,” Delia mumbled to herself. She paced up and down outside the art room after school. “Nervous. Have to stop being nervous.”

She hurried halfway down the hall to her locker. She dialed the combination and yanked open the door. She checked her hair in the little mirror hanging inside.

She thought it looked good. With Britty’s help, she had braided it. The braid hung halfway down her back. Striking. Bold.

Very artsy.

In one ear, she wore a silver earring studded with round red beads and long, thin stones flecked with purple. Perfect for an art competition.

She reached for the spare tube of Midnight Wine she kept in her locker and touched up her lipstick. Most people wouldn’t wear the deep purple shade with the bright red jacket and long red skirt Delia had on. But she wasn’t most people.

She loved odd color combinations. And it would show the judging committee that she was an original.

I’m glad I decided to do another self-portrait, Delia thought. In the new drawing, she wore the same outfit she did today. She had the same hairstyle, same earring, same everything.

She figured it would help the judges remember her.

Delia slammed her locker shut and rushed back to the art room. “Nervous,” she mumbled again, glancing at the closed door.

A hand clamped down on Delia’s shoulder. She yelped and spun around.

Stewart stood there with an embarrassed expression on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He followed her gaze to the classroom door. “You next?”

Delia nodded. “Karina is in there now,” she told him. “With the judges. Have you seen her stuff?”

“She’s good,” he said. “She does oil paintings of flowers and trees. Little teeny paintings. Nice miniatures. Beautiful.”

“Beautiful. It figures.” Delia knew she sounded jealous, but she couldn’t help it.

Maybe Stewart didn’t notice. He smiled. “I haven’t seen your artwork—but the artist looks great,” he said.

“Thanks,” Delia murmured. The way Stewart stared at her made her feel more nervous.

She shot a glance at her leather art portfolio. “My work is good too. My drawings aren’t fussy like Karina’s. And they’re not at all like yours. Yours have all that detail. At least the ones I’ve seen hanging in art class.”

I’m babbling, Delia realized. She forced herself to stop.

Stewart crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a locker. He looks so strange in a sports shirt and tie, Delia thought. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a tie.

His tie reminded Delia of a sunset. Soft colors. Muted shades. Poetry in silk.

He looks great, Delia thought. She loved his black, black hair and the cleft in his chin. But he’s still no Vincent, she added to herself.

“Let me guess,” Stewart said. “Your pictures are wild. Real outrageous. Like you.”

The door to the art room clicked open and Delia jumped. “If we had time, I’d show you.” She grabbed her portfolio and headed into the classroom with it. “Then you’d know what you’re up against,” she called over her shoulder.

Stewart caught her arm before she stepped through the doorway. “We can go to Pete’s Pizza after we’re done. You can show them to me there.”

He stared at her.

“I … I can’t.” Delia gave him a quick smile. “I’ve got to talk to Vincent and—”

“Yeah, right.” Stewart released her. His eyes turned cold. “They’re waiting for you,” he muttered.

Delia turned away and stepped into the room. The first things she saw were Karina’s beautiful oil paintings, lined up against the wall. Then she saw Karina. Karina flashed Delia a quick smile.

Delia forced herself to smile back. Then she studied Karina’s paintings. Each tiny canvas showed a garden. Pink roses. Yellow daisies. Purple lilacs. So beautiful Delia could almost smell them.

A surge of jealousy shot through her. Why did Karina have to be so good at everything?

“Are you ready, Miss Easton?”

Delia nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to shake. She carried her portfolio over to the judges. She placed it on the table and opened it.

Purple?

What was that smear of purple?

Streaks of deep purple over her drawing.

Delia gasped. A wave of panic froze her in place.

She forced herself to move. Holding her breath, she flipped through the drawings it had taken her so many months to complete.

Ruined. All ruined.

All smeared with purple.

Was it lipstick? Was it purple lipstick?

All of her fashion designs. All of her portraits. Smeared with purple.

A low cry escaped Delia’s throat when she reached her self-portrait.

Dark purple lipstick blocked out the eyes. They stared blankly up at Delia. Two round purple circles.

The lipstick had been ground into the canvas. Gouging a hole in one spot.

Underneath the drawing, she read a message scrawled in purple: “HA HA. COULDN’T YOU JUST DIE?”

Chapter

15

The judges stared at the smeared artwork.

“Delia, what has happened here?” one of them asked finally.

Delia’s knees quivered. Her breath came hard.

“Can’t you see?” she screamed. “Can’t you see what someone has done to me?”

“But—how did this happen?” another judge demanded, shaking his head.

What did they want from her?

What could she tell them?

With a hoarse cry, Delia dropped the drawings and ran from the room. She could hear the startled judges calling after her. But she didn’t stop.

She had taken only a few steps into the hall—when she crashed into Stewart.

“Hey, what happened? What’s wrong?” he cried.

“My drawings! All ruined!” Delia choked out.

“Huh?”

Delia turned and ran toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Stewart yelled.

But Delia didn’t slow down. She shoved open the door and flew down the steps. She rounded the corner—and skidded to a stop.

This can’t be happening, she thought. This can’t be happening again.

Karina stood at the end of the hall. Huddling close to Vincent.

Delia backed against the wall so that Karina and Vincent wouldn’t notice her.

“I know I’m going to win. I just know it,” Karina was saying excitedly. “You should have seen the judges’ faces when I showed them my paintings!”

Vincent leaned closer to Karina. He murmured something in her ear.

Karina’s face glowed. She kissed Vincent’s cheek.

Delia swallowed hard. It’s true, she thought. Karina is a winner. She’s standing there with Vincent. The judges love everything she’s done for the Conklin Award. And they haven’t even seen anything of mine.

Some truce, Delia thought.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Maybe I should drop out of the Conklin competition,” Delia moaned. She flopped down on the couch in Britty’s living room.

“No way! You can’t quit!” Britty protested. “You have to tell the judges that Karina is destroying your work.”

“But I don’t know for sure that she is the one,” Delia replied.

“Of course you do!” Britty exclaimed. “Who else—?”

“I have no proof,” Delia insisted. “If I went to the judges and said that Karina wrecked my guitar and smeared all my drawings, why should they believe me? They’d throw me out of the competition.”

“You don’t know that,” Britty told her. She moved to the arm of the couch. “A lot of people saw her attack you in the gym. And I heard her threaten you. I could talk to them.”

Delia sat up. She unbraided her hair and pulled it loose around her face. “Then what?” she demanded. “Karina gets kicked out of the competition—and everything is fine? That would never happen.” Delia sighed. “You know how crazy she is, Britty. If she is doing those horrible things, what would she do to me if I got her tossed out? She would come after me. She would find some way to hurt me.”

Britty chewed on a strand of her long hair. “There’s only one thing we can do,” she said.

Delia narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What?” she asked, her voice dull.

“We have to kill Karina.”

Chapter

16

Delia felt the blood drain from her face.

Britty’s expression changed. “Hey—I was joking.” She grabbed Delia’s arm and shook it. “Snap out of it. I was joking. Just trying to get that gloomy look off your face.”

“I’m not in a joking mood.” Delia sighed. “Besides, that was really sick.”

“I’m starving,” Britty declared. “I always get morbid when I’m starving.”

They made their way into the kitchen. Delia watched Britty bound around the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. She pulled out plates, a bag of taco chips, a jar of salsa, and a jar of jalapeño peppers. She dumped them on the table. Then she grabbed some cheese and some black beans and rice from the fridge.

“At least the judges are giving me extra time to do some new drawings. And I already have some others I like almost as much as the ones I showed them,” Delia said.

“I’m worried about you,” Britty said. She deposited the rest of the food in front of Delia and plunked down in the chair across from her. She quickly opened the jars.

“A few weeks ago you never would have thought I was serious about killing Karina,” Britty said. She dipped a chip in the black beans and took a big bite.

“I know. But this is serious, Britty. Karina may be totally out of control. If she is doing those things to me, she might do something even worse. She might be totally crazy. I—I’m really frightened of her.”

Britty stuck another chip in her mouth. Salsa dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it away with one finger. “So let her win the Conklin. Everyone will know she had to cheat to get it.”

“What good does that do me? So some people will think I really deserved it.” Delia reached for a chip. “Don’t you understand? If I don’t win, I’ll be stuck in Shadyside for the rest of my life.”

Delia let the chip fall to the table. “You’re going to Ohio State. Gabe is headed for Yale or some other great school. Even Vincent is going to college—and his grades are awful.”

Delia sighed again. “Don’t you get it, Britty?” she asked. “I don’t want to be left behind. If I never get to New York, I’ll never become a fashion designer. And without Vincent …”

No, Delia told herself. I haven’t lost Vincent yet. I know he cares about me. I’m not giving up. I have to talk to him.

She stood up. “I’ve got to talk to him, Britty. About us. And about Karina.” She headed toward the front door.

“You’re going to see Vincent?” Britty cried, following her. “After what you saw today? After all the lies he told you? Why? Why do you want to talk to him? Let Karina have him. They deserve each other.”

“I can’t.” Delia stopped at the door. She wished she could make Britty understand. But how could she? Britty had never cared about a guy the way Delia cared about Vincent.

“You’re great, Delia,” Britty continued. “Lots of guys would love to go out with you. For example, Stewart or Gabe. Don’t waste yourself on a loser.”

Delia yanked open the door. “I have to talk to Vincent. I have to give him a chance to explain.”

He’ll have a good explanation, Delia told herself as she hurried to her car and slid into the driver’s seat. I’ll talk to him—and everything will be fine again.

Everything will be fine. She repeated the words over and over in her mind as she drove to Vincent’s. She knew he would be home. Thursday was basketball night—and Vincent loved basketball. He would be in front of the TV.

Delia parked in the street in front of Vincent’s house.

Everything will be fine, she repeated to herself. Fine. Fine …

But when she walked past the front window, she caught sight of someone sitting next to Vincent on the couch. A girl.

Karina?

No.

This girl had dark hair.

Delia’s stomach clenched. Who is that?

She hurried to the front door and tried it. Unlocked. She slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind her.

The TV blared. Basketball crowd sounds. Delia tiptoed into the family room.

She squinted into the shadows.

Vincent and the girl were wrapped up together.

“Get away from her!” The cry burst from Delia’s throat.

Vincent and the girl jerked apart. Vincent jumped off the couch and Delia stared down at the girl.

Her heart gave a hard thump against her ribs.

“Sarah!” she cried.

Chapter

17

“Delia! Hi!” Vincent cleared his throat. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He licked his lips and darted a glance at Sarah.

Sarah didn’t appear nervous. She didn’t appear surprised. She looked smug.

“Sarah!” Delia repeated, blinking in shock. Trying to blink her sister away.

Is this a dream? A bad dream?

Is Sarah really here with Vincent?

Sarah stood up with her head high and her shoulders back. She straightened the black T-shirt she’d borrowed from Delia—without asking.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Sarah strolled over to her sister.

What is different about Sarah? Delia wondered.

It didn’t take her long to see.

Her lips.

Sarah’s lips glistened with a coat of Delia’s purple Midnight Wine lipstick.

Sarah grinned. “What’s up?”

Delia bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to give Sarah the satisfaction of an angry response. “Nothing much,” she uttered through clenched teeth.

She turned to Vincent and forced a smile. “Right?”

Vincent laughed. But it didn’t sound anything like his usual laugh. “Sarah was just leaving,” he said. He grabbed Sarah’s coat off the brown recliner in the corner.

The same place Delia always left hers.

Vincent tossed it at Sarah. “Your sister stopped over to—”

“I know exactly why she stopped over,” Delia said coldly.

Delia walked into the hall and opened the front door. She stood back, waiting for Sarah leave.

It didn’t take her long. As Sarah passed by, Delia grabbed her arm. She leaned close to her sister. “You didn’t think he would really choose you over me, did you? Even in my clothes and my makeup, you’re nothing special.”

Sarah’s pointy little chin quivered. Delia had meant to hurt her sister. And she had.

Sarah marched out the door without another word. Delia slammed it behind her.

She swung around and glared at Vincent. “What’s going on?”

Vincent lowered his head. His “I’m a big, sad puppy dog” expression.

Delia let out a disgusted groan. “That’s not going to work this time.”

“I felt sorry for her,” Vincent said. “I figured I’d give her a few pointers. I thought maybe then the sophomore guys wouldn’t think she’s such a geek.”

Delia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Vincent moved toward her. He reached for her arm. “No big deal. So I gave the kid a break. You know I’m only serious about you.”

Delia slapped his hand away. “Is that why you were kissing Karina in the hall after school?”

“Karina?” Vincent swallowed hard. “I have to talk to you about Karina.”

“So talk.” Delia crossed her arms and waited.

“Karina has this idea that I’m her boyfriend. I don’t know why, but she does,” Vincent said. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do. But you know Karina. You know how out-of-control she can get.”

“What more can she do?” Delia cried. “She ruined my guitar. She ruined my art portfolio. You’ve got to talk to her, Vincent. You’ve got to tell her to back off. You—”

“I will,” Vincent replied softly. He reached for her again. But again, Delia pushed him away.

“Please, Vincent—” she pleaded. “Talk to Karina. Talk to her. Tell her she needs help. Tell her she’s out of control. Tell her something!”

Vincent nodded. “I’ll try. I promise. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll talk to her parents.”

“Please, Vincent—” Delia repeated heatedly. “Talk to her—before she does something really terrible. I’m so frightened of Karina. So frightened!”

“I promise,” Vincent said, raising his right hand solemnly.

“Do it soon,” Delia warned. “Before it’s too late.”

Surprise twisted Vincent’s features. “Too late? What do you mean?”

Delia took a deep breath. “I—I’m so worried about what she might do next,” she choked out.

Chapter

18

“Was this the best idea for a birthday party or what?” Vincent stepped away from the door and ushered Britty and Gabe inside.

He knew the answer to that question—definitely the best!

“Wow.” Britty peered into the dark front room. “Creepy place. Why did you choose this old mansion on Fear Street for your party?”

“Because it’s cool,” Vincent replied, grinning at her.

“But how did you get it?” Gabe demanded. “Who lives here?”

“Nobody,” Vincent told him. “That’s how I got it. The house has been empty for nearly a year. So I claimed it for tonight. You know. Squatter’s rights. I cleaned it up a bit. And it’s party time! Everybody in the senior class is here.”

He led them across the hallway to a set of double doors.

“If I had the party at home, my mom would be a basket case,” he continued. “She’d be worried about every little crumb that fell on the floor. And my dad would be acting all tense. You know, the way teachers do when they chaperone dances at school.”

Vincent tapped one finger against his forehead. “Genius,” he said. “How cool is this? No parents around. No neighbors. Minimum cleaning. Maximum fun. And I got lucky—the electricity never got turned off.”

“Can we join the party now, genius?” Gabe asked.

Vincent pulled open the double doors. A huge ballroom stood on the other side. The sounds of loud music and laughter greeted them.

This really is an awesome birthday party, Vincent told himself. Lots of food—pizzas, buckets of chicken, chips and pretzels, and nachos with gooey cheese. Excellent music. He hired a DJ from school, and gave him a list of his favorite dance CDs.

Britty craned her neck, trying to see over the crowd. “Where’s Delia?” she asked.

“Huh?” Vincent had a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. He stopped and turned back to Britty. “Delia?”

He’d been so busy getting ready for the party, he hadn’t thought about Delia. He searched around the huge, crowded room. He didn’t see her.

When she does show up, I hope she doesn’t ask me if I had my serious talk with Karina, he thought. I’ve been too busy getting this party together. I don’t need another scene with Delia—especially at my birthday party.

“I thought Delia was coming early,” Britty shouted over the throbbing music. “It’s weird that she isn’t here.”

“There you are!” Karina called. She must have arrived right after Britty and Gabe, Vincent decided. She hurried over and kissed Vincent on the cheek.

“Let’s dance—okay, Gabe?” Britty asked as she pushed her way past Vincent.

Vincent turned his attention to Karina.

“Awesome party!” Karina kissed him again. “Come on.” She tugged him to the dance floor, her blue eyes sparkling. “I love this song.”

Vincent pulled Karina close. He rested his cheek on top of her head as they swayed to the music. A totally great party, he told himself again.

When the song ended and a fast song started up, Karina and Vincent kept dancing. That’s all he felt like doing. Dancing all night.

After a few more songs, someone tugged on his sleeve. He turned to see Britty staring at him. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Something is wrong, Vincent,” Britty said. “Something is very wrong. Delia isn’t here.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to discuss Delia in front of Karina. Not when things were going so well between them.

He made up an excuse to Karina about having to get more ice, and dragged Britty off the dance floor.

“What are you talking about?” he asked her when they reached the other side of the room.

“Delia. I’m talking about Delia,” she snapped. Britty glanced around. “She’s not here.”

What am I supposed to do about it? Vincent thought. Across the room, he saw Stewart Andrews asking Karina to dance.

“I—I’ve got to go,” Vincent murmured, his eyes on Karina.

“But think about it, Vincent,” Britty pleaded. “It’s your birthday party, and Delia’s not here. Isn’t that a little strange?”

“I guess. But I don’t think you have to worry about it.” Over Britty’s shoulder, Vincent watched Karina and Stewart. The two of them appeared friendly. Way too friendly.

Vincent started toward them. “You know Delia,” he called back to Britty. “She’s probably waiting to make some sort of grand entrance. You know. Real dramatic. It’s early. She’ll show up.”

An hour passed. Then another.

No sign of Delia, Vincent realized.

He felt sort of happy about it. He knew that if Karina and Delia ended up at the party together, they would end up in a fight.

Since Delia decided not to come, he didn’t have to worry about keeping them away from each other.

Why didn’t Delia come to the party?

Vincent figured that she wanted to get back at him for messing around with Sarah. And for kissing Karina.

That didn’t bother him. In a few days Delia would call or drop by. She never stayed angry for too long. And she always came back to him.

Around eleven o’clock, Vincent stopped by the snack table for another slice of pizza. He noticed Britty pacing near the front door. “Isn’t there a phone here?” she called to him.

Vincent shook his head. “A phone in a deserted house?”

He started to feel a little guilty. Maybe he should call Delia. Maybe he should go check on her.

No, he decided. That’s exactly what she wants. I’m not letting her ruin my party. She got an invitation. She didn’t come. That’s her problem.

Around midnight, people started to leave. Vincent found his thoughts returning to Delia.

It is weird that she didn’t show, he admitted to himself. Even if she still felt angry, she wouldn’t want me to be alone with Karina.

It didn’t make sense.

Any of it.

Britty hurried over to him. She had her coat on. Vincent saw Gabe waiting for her by the door.

“Not that you care, but we’re going to stop by Delia’s on the way home,” Britty told him. “Maybe she’s sick or something. Maybe—”

Britty gasped as the double doors swung open.

Vincent sucked in a sharp breath.

Delia staggered into the doorway. She took two steps—then stumbled.

The heel of one of her red shoes had snapped off, Vincent saw.

The right sleeve of her dress was ripped at the shoulder.

Vincent’s mouth dropped open as he saw the scratches that covered her arms.

And the blood. The dark blood that trickled down her face.

“Help me … help …” Delia moaned.

Chapter

19

Delia swayed on her feet.

Gabe and Britty came running toward her. She saw Vincent close behind them.

Delia collapsed before they reached her. Her head cracked against the hard wooden floor. Pain shot through her neck and down her back.

She tried to sit up. She had to find Karina. Now.

Britty pulled off her coat. She rolled it up and placed it under Delia’s head. “Lie still,” she ordered.

Stewart rushed over with a glass of water. Vincent took it from him. “Get me a paper towel!” he called. “Or some napkins!”

Someone handed him one, and Vincent gently washed the blood off Delia’s face.

Delia stared up at all the people crowding around her. Gabe. Stewart. Britty. Vincent. Dozens of other kids from school.

They all looked so worried. So confused and upset. They really care about me, she realized.

Delia’s heart fluttered in her chest. She struggled to sit up.

“Give her some room,” Gabe called. The crowd moved back a little. Gabe knelt beside her. “Delia—what happened? Were you in an accident?”

Delia forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. “Help me up,” she whispered.

Vincent wrapped his arm around her waist and eased her to her feet.

Delia leaned against him as she searched the crowd. Finally she spotted Karina.

“Do you want to know what happened?” she cried. “Ask her! Ask Karina!”

A low murmur ran through the crowd. Eyes turned to Karina.

Karina stood at the edge of the crowd. “Ask me? Ask me what?” she demanded.

“She invited me to her house tonight,” Delia started, pointing at Karina with a trembling finger. “Before the party. She said she wanted to talk. She wanted to apologize for all the horrible things she’s done to me. She—she said she wanted us to be friends again.”

“No!” Karina cried. “Are you crazy? I did not!”

“Yes, you did!” Delia insisted. “You did! So I drove to your house. You said your parents were out for the evening. You told me to come upstairs so we could talk. I trusted you. I trusted you.”

“What are you saying?” Karina screamed. “I haven’t seen you in days! I—”

“I followed her to her room,” Delia continued, ignoring Karina’s protests. “She hit me over the head with something. I—I blacked out. And when I woke up, I was tied to the bed!”

“Oh, Karina—no!” Britty cried.

Delia began to shake. Vincent wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“No!” Karina screamed. She stared around the room, her eyes bright with panic. “No! She’s lying. It’s all a big lie!”

Delia took a step toward her. “Did you think you would get away with it?” Her voice trembled with anger. “Did you think no one would believe me?”

“She’s lying!” Karina cried again.

Delia shook her head. “You must be so surprised to see me here. You expected to find me safely tied up in your room after the party. But I loosened the ropes.”

Delia held her hands up so everyone could see the rope burns on her wrists. Two bright red bracelets of raw skin.

Britty gasped. “How could you do that to her?” she asked Karina.

“What were you going to do when you got home, Karina?” Delia demanded furiously. “Kill me?”

Delia turned and wrapped her arms around Vincent’s waist. She buried her face in his chest. “She’s insane!” Delia moaned.

“You’re insane!” Karina shrieked in fury. “This whole story is crazy!” She launched herself at Delia.

Gabe and Stewart each grabbed Karina by an arm. Karina struggled against them. “It’s all a lie!” she wailed. “It’s a total lie!”

She struggled to break free from the boys’ grasp.

“Stop it, Karina!” Stewart ordered. “You came to the party late. We all saw you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she cried. “I tried on a couple of different outfits.”

“Come to her house. You’ll see!” Delia exclaimed. She pulled away from Vincent and started for the door.

“I’ll prove it to you!” Delia shouted. “Come to her house. The ropes are still tied to the headboard. And—and you’ll see the blood. My blood. All over the carpet.”

Karina ripped herself away from Gabe and Stewart.

She shoved through the crowd and blocked the doors.

“No!” she screamed. “No! You can’t come to my house! You can’t!”

Chapter

20

“Why can’t we go to your house?” Delia demanded. “Because I’m telling the truth?”

“No!” Karina cried, trembling. “Because it’s crazy! It’s all a crazy pack of lies! Delia is a liar!”

“Liar?” Delia cried. “I’m a liar?” She raised her hands so that everyone could see them once again. “Look at my wrists.”

She touched the side of her head and held up her blood-smeared fingers. “Look at my head! My dress is torn. My knees are skinned.” She stared hard at Karina. “So how can you say I’m a liar?”

“Noooooo!” Karina let out a long howl. She dove at Delia.

But Vincent jumped between them. “Karina …” Vincent hesitated. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you the help you need.”

Karina threw herself at Vincent. She pounded on his chest with both fists. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” she chanted. “I hate you! I hate you all!”

With one more furious roar, she spun away from him. Her eyes wild, her hair flying behind her, she turned and pushed through the double doors.

They slammed behind her.

“Someone stop her!” Stewart cried.

Gabe grabbed Britty’s arm. The two of them darted after Karina.

“I’ll go find a phone. I’ll try to call her parents,” Stewart volunteered. “We have to stop her—before she does something else that’s horrible!”

Delia watched Stewart run out the door. Then she sank against Vincent.

“Let’s get you home,” Vincent said softly. “We have to take care of those cuts.”

Delia sighed and pulled back. “Let’s just rest for a moment,” she whispered weakly. “I—I can’t believe what she did to me. I can’t believe she’d go this far …”

♦ ♦ ♦

Delia inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of a new tube of lipstick.

She stroked a coat of Midnight Wine over her full lips and checked her dresser mirror. “Perfect,” she murmured. She picked a tissue from the box on her dresser and blotted her lips. She dropped the tissue on the floor.

“What do you think?” Delia turned to face Britty. Her friend perched on Delia’s bed, swinging her legs.

“You sure look better than you did last night!” Britty declared. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same person.”

Britty bounced up and paced around the room. “Last night when I saw you with all the blood on your face, I thought …”

Britty shuddered. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Britty is such a great friend, Delia told herself.

“I love your outfit,” Britty said.

Delia could tell Britty wanted to change the subject. She didn’t mind. Delia didn’t want to think about last night, either. She hoped that someday she would be able to forget all about it.

“Only you could get away with wearing those colors together,” Britty teased.

Delia ran her fingers down her purple, pink, yellow, and brown sweater. One of her favorites. Then she heard a honk from in front of the house.

“Gabe’s here,” Britty announced. “Are you sure you feel well enough to be on Vincent’s clean-up crew?”

“Definitely,” Delia answered. She grabbed her purse, and they headed to the front door. “The last thing I want to do is sit around by myself. All I would do is think about Karina. Every time I hear a tiny noise in the house, I think she is coming after me.”

“Did you tell your parents?” Britty asked.

“Of course. But I wouldn’t let them go to the police. They’re going to ‘discuss’ it with her parents. Karina needs help.”

Delia opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. She took a deep breath of the fresh, chilly air. “Last night when I was tied up in Karina’s room, I thought I would never escape. I couldn’t imagine being outside again. Or hanging out with my friends. I was so terrified.”

Britty wrapped her arm around Delia’s shoulders as they made their way to Gabe’s car. “I know I was only there a few hours,” Delia continued. “But it felt like days. And I kept wondering what Karina planned to do … What she planned to do to me when she came home from the party.”

They climbed into the car. “I brought us some doughnuts to eat on the way over,” Gabe said, passing the box. “How are you doing?” he asked Delia. He met Delia’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Better,” she said.

Gabe nodded.

Delia stared out the window as they approached the house on Fear Street where Vincent had held his party the night before. Delia’s stomach tightened into a knot.

Delia wrapped her arms around herself and leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Gabe parked the car in front of the house.

They climbed out of the car. Gabe popped open the trunk, and they pulled out a couple of brooms and some big garbage bags.

“Vincent?” Gabe called as they made their way into the gloomy house.

No answer.

“Vincent had better be here,” Gabe said. “I’m not cleaning up the whole place before he arrives.”

“Vincent!” Britty called.

No answer.

They took a few more steps inside the house. “He said he would be here early, right?” Britty asked.

“That’s what he told me when he took me home last night,” Delia said. She poked her head into the huge ballroom. Soda cans, empty pizza boxes, and empty chicken buckets littered the floor.

The helium balloons that had clung to the ceiling last night now hovered at eye level. Delia pushed a balloon aside and crossed the big room.

“Vincent!” she yelled. “We’ve got a lot of work to do!”

“He must not be here yet,” Britty said. “Let’s wait outside for him. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Okay,” Delia answered. She turned—and froze.

“Oh nooooo!” Britty wailed. She saw it too.

Saw Vincent. Facedown. On the floor. Surrounded by empty soda cans and pizza boxes.

“Vincent—?” Delia uttered.

And then she was down on her knees beside his still body.

“Vincent? Vincent? Vincent?”

“Is he—is he breathing?” Gabe choke out.

Delia reached out and ran her fingers along his cheek. His skin felt cool.

She pressed her fingers against his throat. Nothing. No pulse.

Nothing. Nothing …

“He’s dead,” Delia whispered. “Vincent is dead.”

Chapter

21

Gabe crouched beside her. He pulled back Vincent’s shoulder, then gently returned it to the floor. “Somebody stabbed him—stabbed him in the chest.”

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” Britty wailed.

“Vincent … Vincent … Vincent …” Delia rocked back and forth, repeating his name.

Gabe stood up and pulled Delia to her feet. “We have to get out of here. We have to call the police.”

“Vincent … Vincent … Vincent …” Delia repeated.

♦ ♦ ♦

Delia stuffed her hands deep into her pockets. She huddled on the front porch of the old house with Gabe and Britty. Waiting for the police—and their parents—to arrive.

“Maybe we should go wait in the car,” Gabe said. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

“No,” Britty insisted. “I’m too nervous to sit still.”

“Here they come anyway,” Delia announced. A black-and-white cruiser pulled up in front of the house. Two officers slid out and strode up the walkway.

“I’m Detective Bender,” one of the men told them. He gestured to his tall, skinny partner. “And that’s Detective Jamison. You reported a murder?”

“One of our friends. He’s been stabbed. We didn’t move him or anything,” Gabe answered.

“What were you kids doing out here anyway? This place has been deserted for at least a year,” Detective Jamison said. His angular face held a grim expression.

“We explained that on the phone,” Delia replied. “Vincent … he’s the one who … who’s been killed. He gave a party here last night. We all came over this morning to help him clean up. That’s when we found him.”

Britty shifted from one foot to the other, chewing on a piece of her hair. “We called you right away!”

“Show us,” Detective Bender instructed.

Delia and Gabe led the way inside. Britty trailed behind the detectives.

Delia’s heart beat against her ribs.

A helium balloon brushed against Delia’s arms. She hated the feel of the rubbery skin. She pointed to Vincent’s body.

“Stay back,” Detective Jamison ordered. He pulled on a pair of thin plastic gloves. He knelt beside Vincent and studied him for a long moment without touching him. Then the detective rolled Vincent onto his back.

Delia squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Britty gasp.

“A knife into his chest,” one of the detectives noted. “One stab between the ribs. Another into the heart.”

Delia’s eyes locked on the handle of the large knife sticking out of Vincent’s chest. Most of the blade was buried in his body.

She moved her eyes slowly up Vincent’s body. Over the blood matted on his green sweater. A circle of dark blood on the green sweater. The sweater she gave him for Christmas. The one she chose so carefully.

Her eyes traveled up to his mouth. It was frozen open, in a silent howl of terror.

She studied his eyes next. Vincent’s eyes. They stared up at her blankly.

“Delia,” Britty whispered.

Delia followed Britty’s gaze down to Vincent’s cheek.

To the lip print on his pale cheek.

A purple lip print.

Midnight Wine.

“Delia, that’s your lipstick!” Britty cried.

Chapter

22

Both detectives turned to Delia. They narrowed their eyes to study her lips.

Her purple lipstick.

Then they stared down at the purple lip print on Vincent’s cheek.

“No!” Delia gasped, raising her hands to her face.

Detective Jamison scribbled something in his little spiral notebook.

“When was the last time you saw the boy?” Detective Bender asked.

“He … he drove me home last night,” Delia replied shakily. “We got to my house at about onethirty.”

“When I showed up at Delia’s this morning, she still had on her pajamas,” Britty volunteered. Her voice sounded high and squeaky. Nervous. “She couldn’t have been here early this morning. I know she hadn’t been awake long—”

“And we all drove over here together,” Gabe chimed in.

“We’ll need all three of you to give us statements,” the tall detective told them. “For now I want you to stay here and wait for your parents. You called them—right?”

Delia and the others nodded.

They turned away from the body.

“Everyone at Shadyside High knows that I always wear Midnight Wine,” Delia said quietly. “Somebody wanted me to appear guilty. I wonder who …”

A man with two cameras strapped around his neck hurried over to Vincent’s body. A woman with super-short blond hair followed him. She carried a small briefcase with her. Delia watched as she kneeled, set the case down near the body, flipped it open, and began taking fingerprints and collecting fibers.

“Karina has been so out-of-control,” Delia whispered to her friends. “She—she tied me to her bed to keep me from Vincent’s party. But you don’t think she killed Vincent—do you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Gabe replied, shaking his head.

“Why would she do it?” Britty asked thought fully. “She was crazy about Vincent. Crazy enough to tie you up. So why would she kill him?”

“Delia, try to stay calm when you talk to the police,” Gabe whispered. “Just tell them the truth. You don’t have anything to worry about. And don’t start accusing Karina. Let them find out the truth. If you start accusing Karina, you’ll sound—”

“What?” Delia demanded, her voice low and hard.

Gabe hesitated. “Guilty,” he muttered. “You’ll sound as if you’re trying to throw the blame on someone else.”

“You think I killed him?” Delia asked shrilly.

“No way!” Gabe protested.

“Of course not!” Britty echoed.

“I just don’t want you to look bad to the police. When they are ready to question us, we’ll tell them everything that happened at the party,” Gabe said. “They can talk to every person there if they want to.”

“Here comes one of the detectives,” Britty announced.

Detective Bender hurried toward them. Now what? Delia wondered. She couldn’t stand being in this room much longer. So close to Vincent’s body.

If I have to stay much longer, she thought, I’ll start screaming. I know I won’t be able to stop. They will have to drag me out of here in a straitjacket.

“Your parents are out front,” the detective told her. “I’d like you all to come back to the office with me and answer some questions.”

Delia stared at him. His blue eyes narrowed, studying her face. They reminded Delia of X-ray machines. He can study the inside of my head, she thought. He knows everything that’s going on in there.

That’s crazy, Delia scolded herself.

“You and your parents can ride in my car,” Detective Bender said. He gazed at the bruises on Delia’s wrists. “I think you probably have a lot to tell me, Delia.”

Delia suddenly lost control. “I didn’t do it! I know that’s what you think!” she blurted out. Her voice echoed in the empty room.

“I see you staring at the purple lipstick on his cheek!” Delia cried. “You think I killed him. You all think it. But I didn’t do it! I didn’t! Doesn’t anyone believe me?”

Chapter

23

“I told you already.” Delia sighed. “I drove to the house with Gabe and Britty,” Delia answered. “We all walked in together. To help Vincent clean up. I … I don’t remember who saw him lying on the floor first. I guess it was me.”

Delia had her elbows on the table, her head resting in her hands. There was no air in the tiny room. The ceiling light glared in her eyes.

Didn’t they get tired of hearing the same story over and over again? What would it take to make them believe her?

Detective Jamison signaled Detective Bender from outside the interviewing room. “I’ll be right back, and we’ll go over all this again,” he said.

Delia slumped back in the hard wooden chair. She stared around the room. She needed something to take her mind off the police and all their questions.

But the cork bulletin board across from her was empty—except for dozens and dozens of tiny pinholes. And everything else in the room seemed to have been dipped in a big can of tan paint. Tan walls, tan chairs, tan table, tan floor.

A jar of powdered creamer, a stack of napkins, packets of sugar, and some coffee stirrers stood at one end of the table. Nothing else. Delia poured a little of the creamer onto the table and drew tiny pictures in it with one of the stirrers.

I’m going nuts in here, Delia thought. She chipped some of the nail polish off her thumb. Then she reached for her purse. She pulled out a tube of Midnight Wine.

Wait! What am I doing?

Now is not the time to be touching up my lipstick!

Delia tapped her fingernails against the tabletop. They can’t really think I’m guilty. Everyone at school knows how much I cared about Vincent.

But they did suspect her.

She knew they did.

She could tell by the way they watched her. By the way they asked the same questions again and again.

An officer entered the room. He didn’t say a word to Delia. He strode over to the corkboard and pinned two photos on it. Then he turned and left.

Delia leaned forward and studied the photos. Photos just taken at the house on Fear Street.

One showed the purple lip print on Vincent’s cheek. The other showed a close-up of Delia’s face.

Detective Jamison and Detective Bender entered the room. They sat down across from Delia. Both turned to study the photos.

“Well, what do you know?” Detective Bender commented. He leaned across the table. “I think your parents had better call an attorney for you, Delia.”

“Huh?” Delia’s temples throbbed. She jerked straight up in the chair. “What do you mean?”

“Take a look at your lips and the lip print on the body,” Officer Jamison said softly.

Officer Bender shook his head. “They’re a perfect match.”

Chapter

24

“T hey—they match?” Delia gasped. “But … that’s impossible!”

She took a deep breath. Tried to force herself to stay calm. Sounding panicked would only make things worse. It would only make her appear more guilty.

She could feel sweat dripping down her forehead. She grabbed a napkin off the table and blotted it away.

She studied the photos. Yes. Her lips and the lip print were definitely identical. No mistaking that.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Delia insisted. “I’m telling you—I didn’t kill Vincent. Why would I kiss him—and then kill him?”

“You tell us,” Detective Bender replied sharply. His voice held a new coldness.

Detective Jamison flipped through the pages of his little spiral notebook. Reviewing his notes.

Delia shredded the paper napkin between her fingers. Then she reached for another.

How can I convince them? she thought. How?

She ripped up another napkin and let the shreds fall to the table.

Detective Bender heaved himself out of the chair and leaned across the table. “The lips match perfectly,” he told her. “Pictures don’t lie. Why don’t you tell us—”

“No.” Detective Jamison interrupted him. He gazed at Delia sternly. “Don’t say another word. Not until your parents get an attorney here.”

Delia snatched another napkin from the pile on the table. She didn’t shred it. She crumpled it into a ball and held it clenched in her hand.

Stay calm, she ordered herself. You must stay calm.

She crossed over to the bulletin board. The photo of Vincent’s cheek made her eyes sting with tears. How many times had she seen him with a Midnight Wine lip print on his face?

We had so many good times together, she thought. Hanging out in the Burger Barn after school. Dancing close at Red Heat. Snuggling on the couch in his family room.

She swallowed hard, and turned her attention to the other photo. The one of her own lips.

“They are a perfect match,” she murmured. She gazed at the lip print on Vincent’s cheek. Then at her own lips.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

The lip print. Her lips.

She gazed back and forth between the photos.

Then she spun around and faced the detectives.

“Those aren’t my lip prints on Vincent’s face!” Delia exclaimed. “And I can prove it!”

Chapter

25

Detective Bender’s eyes went wide. He glanced at his partner, then turned back to Delia.

Delia allowed a smile to spread over her face. “I’m innocent! And I can prove it! I can prove it!”

Detective Jamison ran his hand over his bony jaw. “Go ahead,” he urged softly.

Delia spun back around to face the board. “My lips and the lip print do match. But they shouldn’t!”

Detective Bender appeared totally confused. But Detective Jamison didn’t. He narrowed his eyes and studied the photos. “Keep going,” he instructed.

“If I kissed Vincent,” she explained, “the lip print on his cheek wouldn’t appear the way my lips do in the photo. The print would be reversed.

“Huh?” Detective Bender grunted.

Delia hurried around the table and picked up her purse. She rummaged through and found her new tube of Midnight Wine. She carefully applied a coat to her lips.

Then she pulled out a scrap of paper. She kissed it, and held it up to the detectives. “If I kissed somebody, this is what the print would look like.”

Delia held the paper up beside her lips. “See? My lips and the lip print don’t match, do they? The print is reversed on the paper.”

Detective Bender now appeared as interested as Detective Jamison.

Delia spread another coat of Midnight Wine on her lips. She picked up a clean, smooth napkin from the table. Then she blotted her lips and showed the detectives the print left on the napkin.

“The print on the napkin is turned around too. Exactly like the one on the scrap of paper. See?” She showed them the napkin.

“But, if the print on the napkin is pressed against something flat—like someone’s cheek …”

Delia flattened the napkin against the top of the table. This has to work, she thought.

She slowly raised the napkin.

A lip print in Midnight Wine marked the table.

“See? That’s a perfect match to my lips.”

Detective Bender studied the napkin, mirror, and tabletop. “And all this means?”

Delia knew detective Jamison had figured it out. But she didn’t wait for him to answer.

“What it means is that someone got hold of a lip print of mine. Off a napkin or a piece of paper or something. I blot my lips all the time. I leave papers all over the place.”

Delia picked up the napkin with the lip print on it and tossed it down in front of Detective Bender.

“It means that whoever killed Vincent pressed my lip print against his cheek! It’s the only reason the lip print would be reversed. Someone is trying to frame me for killing Vincent!”

Detective Jamison nodded to his partner. “She’s right,” he murmured.

“And I think I know who did it,” Delia continued, her heart pounding. “Will you believe me now? Will you listen to me?”

“We’ll listen now,” Detective Bender assured her. “Start at the beginning.”

Delia took a deep breath and began to tell the detectives about Karina. About how she and Karina had been competing all their lives. About competing for the Conklin Award. And competing for Vincent.

She told them about Karina trying to strangle her. About the rat in her guitar. About her destroyed art portfolio.

And about Karina knocking her unconscious and tying her up. She showed them the bruises on her wrists.

Delia’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men. They believe me! she decided. They believe I’m innocent. They believe I didn’t kill Vincent.

Detective Jamison stood up. “We need to check this out,” he stated.

“Thank you!” Delia cried. “Poor Karina. She’s been acting so messed up. I—I won’t feel safe until—”

Detective Jamison raised a hand. “Slow down. We have to take this one step at a time.”

“Your story is interesting,” his partner added. “But there is no physical evidence to link this Karina to the murder. But you’ve given us more than enough reason to go over and talk to this girl.”

“I want to go with you,” Delia said breathlessly. “I can show you where she—”

Jamison raised a finger to his lips. “One step at a time,” he repeated. “One step at a time.”

Chapter

26

Where has the day gone? Delia wondered, stepping out of the small police station. How can it be night already?

“Let’s get home, honey,” Delia’s mother said softly. She held the back door of the car open for Delia.

Delia wrapped her arms around herself and watched as the two detectives pulled away from the police station in their cruiser. They didn’t want her to go to Karina’s house with them.

“We may be dealing with a murderer,” Jamison had told her. “We don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Delia?” her mother prompted.

Delia glanced back at her parents’ car. I can’t go home, she thought. I have to know what happens at Karina’s house!

“Um … I think I’m going to walk over to Britty’s,” Delia told her mom. “She must be so worried about me! And her house is only two blocks away.”

Delia’s father frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t think you should be alone—you’ve had an upsetting day.”

“I’m okay,” Delia assured him. “I just want to talk to Britty. I won’t stay long.”

As her parents climbed back into their car, Delia walked toward Britty’s house. It was true Britty lived nearby. And so did Karina.

I’ll go talk to Britty, Delia told herself. But first I have to see Karina. I have to find out if she’s the killer!

She ran the short distance to Karina’s house. The police cruiser was already parked out in front. Delia stopped behind it and gazed up at the house. It stood in darkness, half hidden behind an old willow tree.

The two detectives climbed the porch steps and rang the bell.

A few seconds later the porch light flashed on.

Karina stepped out into the harsh yellow glare.

Karina wore jeans and a sweatshirt. In the bright light of the porch, Delia could see that Karina had been crying.

Delia crept closer and struggled to hear the conversation.

“Mom!” Karina was calling. “Mom!”

Karina’s mother appeared behind her daughter. “Can I help you?” Mrs. Frye asked.

“A friend of your daughter’s, Vincent Milano, was killed last night,” Detective Bender stated in a flat, emotionless tone.

Karina uttered a loud sob. Tears filled her eyes—but she didn’t begin to cry.

“We know,” Mrs. Frye answered with a sigh. “I’m sure everyone in Shadyside knows the horrible news by now.”

“We would like to talk to Karina,” Bender said. “Can we come inside?”

Karina and her mother exchanged glances. Karina said something, but Delia couldn’t make out the words.

Karina’s mother led the detectives inside. The door closed behind them.

Delia counted to ten. Then she started across the grass of the front lawn.

I can’t just stand here, she told herself. I have to know what’s going on in there.

She stopped behind the willow tree and peered toward the living room window.

The drapes were pulled. She couldn’t see a thing.

Moving quickly, Delia made her way to the side of the house. Pressing her hands against the shingles, she stepped up to the side window.

Leaned forward enough to see inside.

And gasped.

Karina! Staring out at her from the center of the living room!

Chapter

27

Delia pulled her head back.

Too late?

Was Karina already telling the detectives she had spotted Delia?

Her heart pounding, Delia pressed her back against the wall. And waited.

Waited for the sound of the front door bursting open and the detectives rushing out to pull her away from the window.

Silence.

Carefully, she leaned toward the window again.

Karina had turned to face Bender and Jamison.

Whew! Delia let out a long sigh. Karina hadn’t seen her after all.

Holding her breath, Delia squinted through the window into the living room. Karina sat beside her mother on the couch. The two policemen sat tensely across from them in stiff-backed armchairs.

Bender spoke. Then Karina. Then Bender spoke again. Jamison scribbled in his little writing pad.

I wish I could hear what they are saying, Delia thought unhappily.

The conversation continued for a long while. Karina balled up her hands, then unballed them. The only sign that she was the least bit tense.

Suddenly they all stood up.

Delia watched Karina and her mother lead the way to the stairs.

I have to see this, Delia told herself.

I can’t stand out here and miss everything. I have to know what happens. I have to!

Delia knew the house so well. She had been visiting it since she was a little girl.

She knew the side door led to the den. And from the den, she could make her way to the back stairs. Karina’s room stood at the end of the hall.

Silently, holding her breath, Delia pulled open the side door—and sneaked into the house.

A few seconds later she was making her way up the carpeted steps.

From Karina’s room, she heard low voices, drawers opening and shutting, glass bottles clinking together.

She reached the hall and scurried across. She peered through the crack in Karina’s door frame.

Karina’s huge canopy bed dominated the room. A white lace bedspread covered it—and on top of the bedspread rested a pile of pink pillows and stuffed animals.

I hope the detectives aren’t fooled by all this sweetness, Delia thought. I hope they realize the evil that Karina is capable of.

She shifted her position slightly. Now she could see Detective Jamison searching through the clothes in Karina’s closet.

Delia studied Karina’s face. She appeared totally in control. She calmly offered little comments to the detectives as they searched.

“That’s my volleyball trophy,” she told Detective Bender. He set it back on her dresser.

Detective Jamison closed the closet and checked under the bed. He pulled out a flowered box.

“I like to save notes from friends. I stick them all in there,” Karina explained.

Is she trying to make friends with them or something? Delia thought. She’s being so chatty.

Karina turned to Detective Bender as he pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. “You won’t find anything in there,” she said. “Just more clothes.”

Detective Bender didn’t reply. He flipped through each pile of clothes—then moved on to the next drawer.

Mrs. Frye leaned wearily against a closet door. “What are you looking for?” she demanded impatiently. “This is such a waste of your time. We agreed to cooperate. But I had no idea you were going to take Karina’s room apart. I mean—”

“Come over here,” Detective Bender called to his partner. Bender was crouched down, examining the bottom dresser drawer.

“What is it?” Jamison asked.

“I found something very interesting,” Bender replied.

Chapter

28

Delia held her breath.

Karina’s face turned red. She rushed over to the detectives and stared into the bottom drawer. She opened and closed her mouth. She couldn’t speak.

Mrs. Frye hurried to her daughter’s side. “I don’t understand …”

“Nooooo!” Karina wailed.

The sound ripped from her throat. “No! It can’t be! Those don’t belong to me!”

Detective Bender shook his head. He stared at Karina with his sharp blue eyes. “It’s in your drawer. Can you explain it to us?”

I have to see this, Delia thought. She edged farther into the doorway.

Detective Jamison reached down into the drawer and lifted out a sheet of notebook paper. He held it by one corner, touching it as little as possible.

Delia took another step forward—and saw a set of purple lip prints on the paper.

Detective Jamison dipped into the drawer again and pulled out a tissue with a deep purple lip print on it. He pulled out print after print of Delia’s lips.

What can Karina say now? Delia wondered. How will she ever be able to explain this?

Chapter

29

“Vincent Milano had a purple lip print on his cheek when we examined his body,” Detective Jamison explained to Karina and her mother. “A lip print this color, this shape.”

“But—but—” Karina sputtered.

“We believe that Vincent’s murderer placed the lip print there by pressing a sheet of paper—like one of these—against his face.”

Mrs. Frye stumbled over to Karina’s bed. Her entire body shook.

Karina uttered a sob. “I did not kill Vincent. I cared about Vincent—more than anyone in the world. And he cared about me.”

Delia couldn’t hold herself back any longer.

“No!” she shrieked. “He didn’t care about you! He didn’t! And so you killed him! You killed him! The only boy I ever loved!”

Karina gasped and spun around to face her.

“Delia? What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

“We told you to wait—” Bender said angrily.

The detectives started toward Delia.

But before they could reach her, Karina charged across the room. She grabbed Delia around the waist—and heaved her to the floor.

Delia’s breath rushed out in a whoosh. White specks flew in front of her eyes.

“Karina—stop!” she could hear Mrs. Frye pleading. “Stop!”

Karina let out an animal cry of fury.

Delia struggled to push Karina away.

The detectives grabbed Karina by the shoulders—and wrestled her off Delia.

With another angry shriek, Karina broke one hand free and ripped her nails across Delia’s cheek.

Then she spun into her mother’s arms.

“Aaaaaiiii!” Delia screamed in pain.

Her hands shot up to protect her face.

She felt the hot blood flowing down her cheek. Felt the sharp tingle of pain sweep down her body.

“I didn’t kill him! I didn’t!” Karina screeched, her eyes wild, her entire body trembling, out of control. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

Mrs. Frye wrapped her arms tightly around Karina. She whispered in Karina’s ear.

Karina’s chest heaved with each breath. Her face glowed bright red.

“Calm, calm,” Mrs. Frye whispered. “We’ll straighten this out.”

Delia kept her face covered, afraid Karina might attack again.

“If I let you go, will you promise not to attack Delia again?” Mrs. Frye demanded softly.

Delia lowered her hands.

Karina pulled in a long, shuddering breath. Then she nodded.

The detectives watched warily as Mrs. Frye released her.

“I cared about Vincent—and he cared about me!” Karina cried. “He did! I know he did!”

“It’s okay, dear,” her mother crooned, rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay. It will all be okay.”

“We need to take you and your daughter down to the station,” Detective Jamison said. “I advise you to call an attorney right away.”

Mrs. Frye nodded. She held on tightly to Karina.

“Poor Karina,” Delia murmured.

Then she followed the detectives down the stairs. Out the front door. Into the cool night.

Is it over? Delia wondered, taking a deep, deep breath.

Is it finally over?

Chapter

30

Gabe stepped back and held the door open for Delia. “It’s so nice of you to suggest doing this,” he said. “Especially tonight. On prom night.”

He couldn’t stop staring at Delia. She wore a prom dress she designed herself. Long purple satin with a high collar, and a low, low back.

“I wanted to,” Delia answered as they strolled across the parking lot. “Karina and I used to be friends … a long time ago. It just makes me so sad to think of her spending the night of her senior prom in a horrible place like this.”

Gabe opened one of the double doors leading into the Shadyside Psychiatric Hospital. “Coming here always makes me feel a little queasy,” he confessed. “I don’t know if it’s the smell or …”

“Do you visit Karina a lot?” Delia asked.

“Yes. Once every week or so,” Gabe replied.

In her heels, Delia stood as tall as Gabe. She kissed him on the cheek. “That’s so sweet of you,” she said.

Gabe didn’t know if it was sweet exactly. More like something he felt he should do.

He kept wishing he had realized something was seriously wrong with Karina. Wishing he could have done something to help her—before she totally lost it.

Before she became so desperate, she had to kill.

“Wait here,” Gabe said. He paused at a couch near the waiting room door while Delia sat down. “I’ll go talk to the nurse at the registration desk.”

Gabe hurried over to the nurse. He felt eager to get back to Delia.

He still couldn’t believe that she had been going out with him for the past three weeks. And he couldn’t believe that Delia was his date to the Shadyside senior prom.

“We’re here to visit Karina Frye,” he told the nurse at the counter.

The nurse checked a chart. “Her doctor is with her now. But he’ll be finished in a minute or two.”

“Thanks.” Gabe turned and headed back to Delia. He sat down close to her, close enough to smell her flowery perfume. “We have to wait a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind.” Delia snuggled closer to him. “I should be happy Karina is here where she belongs,” she said. “At least I know she’s getting the help she needs.” Delia sighed. “And I don’t have to worry about her anymore—worry about what terrible thing she’ll do to me next. But school isn’t the same without her. I can hardly imagine graduation without Karina there.”

“Hey! This is our prom night!” Gabe reminded her. “It’s going to be the best night of our lives. No time for feeling sad.”

He adjusted the collar of his tuxedo shirt. “Besides, next year you’ll be away at that fancy fashion school in New York. Just think about that, Delia. The winner of the Conklin Award. Loose in New York City!”

Delia played with Gabe’s bow tie. “The Conklin Award.” She sighed, shaking her head.

Gabe stared at her. “Why do you say it that way?”

“It’s not the way I wanted to win it,” Delia replied.

“Excuse me?”

A strange smile spread over Delia’s face. A smile Gabe had never seen before. A knowing smile. Almost cruel.

“If only Karina had realized how much she already had,” Delia said softly.

Gabe’s eyebrows rose up. “Huh? What she had?”

“She had Vincent. And she had the Conklin Award,” Delia replied, still smiling.

She tilted Gabe’s bow tie one way, then the other. Her eyes flashed with excitement. The strange smile remained on her lips.

“Karina would have won, you know,” she told him. “She would have won them both. If I had let her.”

A cold shiver ran down Gabe’s back. He pulled away from Delia.

And stared hard at her.

“Delia—what do you mean?” he demanded.

Chapter

31

“What are you saying?” Gabe demanded. “What do you mean—you didn’t let her win?”

“I took charge,” Delia said, grinning that fierce grin at him. “Don’t you get it? I started with the small stuff. You know. Jamming the rat into my guitar and smearing purple lipstick over my paintings.”

She shook her head. “Getting that rat was so gross! I had to dig through the big garbage bin behind the school.”

Gabe uttered a choked cry.

Delia didn’t seem to notice how shocked he was.

She continued her story. “I could tell those little tricks wouldn’t be enough. Karina was too pretty. And too talented. The judges loved her. So I had to do something else. Something more …”

Gabe wanted to jump up and run away. He suddenly couldn’t stand sitting so near her. Couldn’t stand her cruel smile or the way her eyes flashed so gleefully.

But he couldn’t move.

Frozen in shock—in horror—he needed to hear more.

Delia’s smile faded. The light in her eyes dimmed. “Then I caught Vincent making out with my disgusting sister,” she groaned bitterly. “Yuck. Just thinking about it turns my stomach.”

Delia stared at the floor.

Suddenly feeling cold and trembly, Gabe waited for her to continue.

“I guess that’s when I figured out what I was going to do,” Delia began again in a whisper. “I couldn’t let Vincent get away with that. I couldn’t let him kiss my sister in front of me.”

Her voice became a growl. A furious growl.

“I was losing everything. Everything. Vincent. My sister. The award. I saw everything slip away.”

She blinked. “And then I suddenly knew what I had to do. I had to kill Vincent,” Delia declared, almost cheerfully. “I had to kill him for liking Karina better than me. And for kissing my sister. Kissing my sister. Kissing my sister … And if I could pin the blame on Karina—then all my problems would be solved!”

Delia pulled a tube of Midnight Wine lipstick out of her purse. She smoothed a fresh coat over her lips. She pulled a tissue out of the box on the table. Then she blotted her lips, leaving a deep purple lip print.

Gabe couldn’t stop another shiver from rushing down his back.

“So you … killed Vincent? The morning after the party?” he choked out.

“No way,” Delia shot back. “Vincent never drove me home that night. I killed him after everyone left. I had it all planned.”

The evil smile returned. “I was so smart, Gabe. I had it all planned. I killed Vincent. And I used a lip print on a paper just like this one to make the mark on his face.”

“And the lip prints in Karina’s dresser drawer?” Gabe managed to ask.

Delia laughed. “I sneaked into Karina’s house while she was at the party. I put them in her drawer.”

Delia made a pouty face. “Then I had to rip my own dress. What a shame. I loved that dress. I designed it myself. Red with all those beads.”

She sighed. “The hard part was bruising my wrists. That really hurt. But it was worth it—right? It was all worth it.”

She pulled her head back and gazed at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Wow. I’ve been talking and talking.” She raised a hand to her face. “What got me started? I don’t know …”

Gabe could feel his cheeks growing hot. He knew they were bright red. He opened his mouth to speak. But no words came out.

“I guess I had to tell somebody,” Delia continued. “You look shocked. But you won’t tell on me, will you, Gabe?”

She kissed his cheek.

Gabe swallowed hard. He could picture the purple lip print on his cheek.

“You won’t tell on me—will you?” she asked in a little baby voice. “Will you?”

She kissed his ear. She kissed his cheek. His chin. His other cheek.

In the waiting room mirror, Gabe glimpsed his face, smeared with purple.

She kissed him. Kissed him again.

Kissed his forehead. His cheeks.

“You won’t tell—will you? You won’t forget what I did to Vincent. Will you?”

Gabe stared helplessly at his reflection, at his face, smeared with thick, purple stains.

“Will you? Will you?” She continued to rub her lips over his skin. “Will you, Vincent? I mean Gabe.”

A sound made Gabe turn.

Gazing over Delia’s shoulder, he saw a white-coated doctor standing grim-faced at the doorway.

“I heard the whole story,” the doctor told Gabe. “I’ll phone the police.”

About the Author

R.L. Stine invented the teen horror genre with Fear Street, the bestselling teen horror series of all time. He also changed the face of children’s publishing with the mega-successful Goosebumps series, which Guinness World Records cites as the Best-Selling Children’s Books ever, and went on to become a worldwide multimedia phenomenon. The first two books in his new series Mostly Ghostly, Who Let the Ghosts Out? and Have You Met My Ghoulfriend? are New York Times bestsellers. He’s thrilled to be writing for teens again in the brand-new Fear Street Nights books.

R.L. Stine has received numerous awards of recognition, including several Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards and Disney Adventures Kids’ Choice Awards, and he has been selected by kids as one of their favorite authors in the National Education Association Read Across America. He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their dog, Nadine.

A Parachute Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1997 by Parachute Press, L.L.C.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of

Simon & Schuster, Inc.

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

Designed by Sammy Yuen Jr.

The text of this book was set in Times.

First Simon Pulse edition June 2005

Library of Congress Control Number 2004112719

ISBN 1-4169-0320-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-4424-6645-6 (ebook)