Killer's Kiss

by R. L. Stine

  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 y
anked 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 h
er 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.”