by R. L. Stine
Her eyes followed Kimmy as she made her way across the room to the window and drew the curtain open. Her cheeks on fire, Kimmy pressed her face against the morning-cool glass and shut her eyes.
Corky shivered. She pulled the thin wool blanket up over her legs. She continued to stare at Kimmy, her mind spinning with unpleasant thoughts. Frightening thoughts.
It was obvious to Corky that Kimmy was the culprit.
Kimmy had to have been the one to cut off Hannah’s braid while she slept. No one else had been in the room.
That meant that Kimmy was also guilty of changing the bathwater, turning up the hot water so that Hannah would scald herself.
Kimmy had confided to Corky that she’d like to murder Hannah. And here she was, torturing Hannah.
The evil is here, Corky thought miserably. The evil is in this room. Still inside Kimmy. Poor Kimmy— she doesn’t know.
It was all too horrifying, too horrifying to put into words. But words popped into Corky’s mind:
Kimmy is not in control of her body. The ancient, evil force controls her now.
The door slammed shut then, jarring Corky from her thoughts. It was Hannah leaving the room.
Corky’s eyes went to the dresser top. Hannah had taken the braid with her.
Kimmy turned away from the window, looking drained, lifeless. “Guess I’ll get dressed too,” she muttered.
“Kimmy—what are we going to do?” Corky demanded.
Kimmy shrugged and shook her head sadly. “Hey, Corky?” Her voice caught in her throat. She stared intently into Corky’s eyes. “I’d remember if I cut off Hannah’s braid, wouldn’t I?”
It wasn’t just a question. The words were too heavy with fear for it to be just a question.
She wanted Corky to reassure her, to tell her she was okay, she was normal. But Corky couldn’t bring herself to lie to her distressed friend.
“I’d remember something like that, wouldn’t I?” Kimmy repeated, sounding even more pitiful, more desperate.
“I don’t know,” Corky said softly, lowering her glance to the floor.
A short while later Kimmy, dressed for the morning exercise workout in Lycra shorts and a red tank top, headed out of the room. She stopped at the door and turned back to Corky. “You coming down to breakfast soon?”
“Be right there,” Corky replied.
After Kimmy left, Corky stood up and stretched. Then she walked to her dresser, her mind spinning. She pictured Miss Green listening to Hannah’s story. She imagined the shocked expression on the advisor’s face.
Then what?
Will Kimmy and I be kicked off the squad?
Frowning, Corky pulled open her dresser drawer, started to reach for a clean T-shirt, and stopped, her hand poised in midair.
She stared openmouthed at the pair of scissors on top of her clothing.
Scissors?
She picked them up with a trembling hand.
She brought them close to her face to examine them.
There were strands of straight black hair caught on the blades.
Hannah’s straight black hair.
Chapter 8
A Confession
Corky sat by herself at the far end of the table, staring down at her bowl as the corn flakes turned to mush. The brightly lit dining hall echoed with excited voices and laughter, but she didn’t hear them.
At the other end of the table Kimmy, Debra, Ronnie, and Heather ate quickly, downing stacks of pancakes and french toast, spooning up bowls of cereal as they talked enthusiastically. They all kept glancing down the table at Corky, but she lowered her eyes, avoiding their curious stares.
Turning her eyes to the food line, Corky saw Hannah approach Miss Green, who had just entered and was standing near the back wall. Miss Green, her arms crossed over the chest of her gray sweatshirt, had a grim expression on her face and kept shaking her head. Hannah was talking rapidly, her face flushed, gesturing wildly with the sad black braid in her hand.
Corky realized that Miss Green was staring at her, her face drawn into a tight frown.
What’s going to happen now? Corky wondered, a heavy feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. What is Miss Green going to do to Kimmy and me?
What should I do? Corky asked herself. Should I tell her that Kimmy cut off the braid? Should I tell her that Kimmy put the scissors in my dresser drawer to make it look as if I had done it? Should I tell her that Kimmy is inhabited by the evil spirit?
I have to tell someone, Corky thought glumly, hearing a burst of loud laughter from the girls at the next table. I can’t let Kimmy go any further.
Hannah was still talking furiously, waving the braid in the air, pacing back and forth in front of Miss Green as she talked.
Just then the Bulldog cheerleaders erupted in a long cheer. Corky turned her eyes to their table to see Blair O’Connell, a peppy smile on her face, energetically leading the chant.
Doesn’t she ever quit? Corky thought bitterly.
The cheerleaders were supposed to show pep and spirit every moment of the day, from the time they woke up in the morning. But give me a break! Corky thought, shaking her head. She dropped her spoon into the soggy cereal with a plop.
The cheer ended at the Bulldogs’ table, and another cheer, even louder, erupted at the next table. Corky noticed that Hannah had returned to the Shadyside table, taking her place beside Debra. She was red faced and looked as if she’d been crying. She and Debra were whispering together.
Kimmy was at the head of the table, chewing on a slice of buttered toast, her expression troubled. Heather leaned forward then to ask Kimmy a question, but Kimmy didn’t seem to hear her.
The evil is here at this table, Corky thought, staring hard at Kimmy. Corky shuddered. Two other cheers started up just then at two different tables. The shouting voices echoed off the yellow tile walls and high ceilings.
Corky suddenly felt terribly frightened. And terribly alone.
Who can I talk to? she asked herself. Who can I confide in? Debra would understand, she realized. Debra knew all about the evil spirit. Debra had been changed by it too.
Corky pushed her chair back and climbed to her feet. Ignoring the happy cheers at the other tables, she edged her way down the aisle and stopped behind Debra.
“Debra—can I talk to you?” she asked, bending down so that Debra could hear her over the shouting voices.
Debra turned around slowly. “Hi, Corky. Can it wait?” Debra asked, shouting over the noise. “I’m talking to Hannah right now.”
Stung by Debra’s words, Corky stepped back.
Ignoring Corky, Debra leaned close to Hannah as the two of them continued to whisper together.
Surely Debra can see that I’m upset, that I’ve been sitting off by myself, Corky thought angrily. What kind of friend is she?
And since when is Hannah so important to Debra that Debra can’t interrupt her conversation to talk to me when I really need her?
On the verge of tears, Corky started toward the dining hall door. I can’t deal with this, she thought. I’ve got to get out of here!
She was halfway to the door when she heard Miss Green calling to her.
Corky stopped but didn’t turn around. I can’t face this, she thought. This is going to be horrible.
She took a deep breath and held it. Letting it out slowly, to calm herself, she turned. Kimmy had climbed to her feet and was starting away from the table. Miss Green had called her too.
A stern expression on her face, Miss Green motioned for the girls to join her against the far wall. Corky walked slowly, her mind racing. What am I going to say? How am I going to explain?
Glancing back to the table, she saw that the four Tiger cheerleaders were staring at Kimmy and her, not talking now, just watching intently to see what would happen.
The cheers seemed to fade into the distance as Corky approached Miss Green, walking slowly, her heart thudding in her chest. She glanced at Kimmy, who was staring straight ahead, lost in h
er own thoughts.
“Hannah has brought a serious complaint against you two,” Miss Green said without any other greeting. She stared first at Corky, then at Kimmy, her dark eyes searching for some kind of answer. “I—I really can’t believe this happened. I mean, what Hannah told me. It’s just so—cruel. So incredibly vicious.”
Neither Corky nor Kimmy said anything. Corky could feel her chin quivering. She tried to stop it but couldn’t.
“I know both of you girls,” Miss Green continued finally. “I like you both. And I—I’m just flabbergasted. That’s the only word I can think of. I can’t believe that either of you…” Her voice trailed off.
Time seemed to stand still. Corky couldn’t breathe. It was as if her lungs were ready to explode.
“Cutting off someone’s hair can be described only as an attack,” Miss Green said sternly, narrowing her eyes at the two girls. “A truly vicious attack.”
Corky lowered her eyes to her hands, which were ice cold, she realized. She had balled them into such tight fists that her fingernails were cutting into her palms.
“I have to know,” Miss Green said. “I have no choice. I have to find out which of you did this terrible thing to Hannah.”
She turned her hard gaze on Kimmy. “Kimmy— was it you who cut off Hannah’s braid?”
Kimmy cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said.
Chapter 9
The Blood Flows
Miss Green’s mouth dropped open in shock.
She wasn’t expecting Kimmy to confess, Corky thought. At least, not that fast.
Corky turned her eyes to Kimmy, who gave her a meaningful glance. Kimmy was telling her: Go along with this. Don’t contradict me—I’m covering for you.
Kimmy thinks she’s protecting me! Corky realized. No. No way. I can’t let her do this.
Kimmy is the guilty one, Corky knew. But it isn’t Kimmy’s fault; she isn’t in control of her own body. I can’t let Kimmy take the blame for this alone.
“No, Miss Green,” Corky said. “I did it. I was the one.”
Miss Green’s face turned hard and cold. “Follow me,” she said, motioning for both of them to go with her.
She led them through the double doors into the hallway. It was quiet out there, and cooler.
Miss Green stopped abruptly and spun around, anger expressed on her face. “I want the truth,” she snapped. “I don’t want you covering for each other. I want to know the truth. Who’s responsible.”
“I did it,” Kimmy said in a low voice, darting a quick glance at Corky to keep quiet.
“No,” Corky said, ignoring her friend. “It’s not true.”
“Then you did it?” Miss Green demanded, stepping up close to Corky, so close Corky could smell the coffee on her breath.
“No.” Corky shook her head and took a deep breath. She had to tell her about the evil spirit, she decided. She really had no choice. “The truth is—”
“Yes, what is the truth?” Miss Green urged impatiently.
“The truth is that neither of us did it,” Corky blurted out. “You see—”
“Stop!” Miss Green interrupted, holding up both hands. She sighed—a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m going to deal with both of you when we get back to Shadyside.”
“Miss Green—” Corky started. But the advisor raised her hands again to cut Corky off.
“We’ll do a complete investigation when we get back,” Miss Green said, lowering her voice to a whisper as two of the striped-jacketed judges walked by. “When we get back to Shadyside, both of you will be disciplined. Disciplined strongly.” She slowly shook her head from side to side.
“Miss Green, we’re really sorry,” Kimmy said softly.
“No apologies,” the advisor said sharply. “Let’s just try to finish the week, okay? With no further incidents? I-I’m just flabbergasted. I can’t imagine what could have gotten into your heads!”
I can, Corky thought glumly.
She and Kimmy watched as Miss Green, taking a few long, angry strides, hurried back into the dining hall. Then Corky turned to Kimmy, her chin quivering again. “I…uh…” She couldn’t think of what to say.
“This really makes me feel like going out and giving it my all,” Kimmy muttered sarcastically.
“Yeah, I know,” Corky agreed.
“I mean, what’s the point?” Kimmy cried, throwing up her hands. “Why should we work on routines and go ahead with all of this? We’re both going to be thrown off the squad when we get back to school.”
Corky started to agree, but her voice caught in her throat.
“I was so psyched for this camp,” Kimmy said sadly, pushing back her dark hair. “But now …” Her voice trailed off.
The hallway suddenly exploded with loud voices, calls, and laughter. Breakfast had ended, and everyone was heading to the gym for the morning workout.
Walking together in silence, Corky and Kimmy followed the others out onto the quadrangle. It was a bright, clear day, the sun already high in a cloudless sky.
A Frisbee sailed past Corky’s head. A cheerleader in a gold uniform, gleaming in the sunlight, leapt to catch it. Then the girl spun around and flung it back in an easy motion.
The beautiful day didn’t help cheer Corky. She knew it would take more than sunlight to make her problems go away.
She and Kimmy both saw Blair O’Connell at the same time, and both stopped on the path to stare at her.
Blair was performing a set of perfect cartwheels on the grass, rolling joyfully just for the fun of it.
“She really makes me sick,” Kimmy declared, leaning close so that only Corky could hear. Corky found herself startled by the angry heat of Kimmy’s words.
“I mean, she really makes me sick,” Kimmy repeated, making a disgusted face as she watched Blair’s exuberant performance. “Someone should do something about her.”
“We can’t let the other girls down,” Corky told Kimmy, pulling on the bottom of her cheerleader sweater and brushing a piece of lint off the big maroon S on the front. “We’ve got to give it our best.”
“I guess you’re right,” Kimmy agreed halfheartedly.
They had practiced all afternoon, working to get a complicated new rap routine to come together. But neither of them had practiced with her usual enthusiasm and spirit.
Now it was seven-thirty, time for the evening competition. The enormous gym rang out with excited voices. Corky could feel the tension, could feel everyone anticipating performing in front of the judges.
Hannah and Debra were clapping and stamping their feet in rhythm, practicing. Hannah had hurried into town and returned with a new, short hairstyle—she seemed as pert as ever. Ronnie was kneeling on the floor, frantically trying to repair a broken sneaker lace. Heather was several feet away, doing leg stretches.
“The show must go on,” Corky said, forcing a smile.
“Why?” Kimmy asked.
Corky shrugged. “Beats me.”
They both laughed. Their first laugh of the day.
Whistles blew. The gym slowly became quiet. A judge, a young woman with striking blond hair, called the captains to the center of the floor. The captains drew straws to determine the order of the competition.
“Yaaaay, Bulldogs!” Blair O’Connell, holding a red straw, screamed.
“Guess who’s going first?” Kimmy whispered sarcastically to Corky.
Corky rolled her eyes. “Blair is unreal!” she muttered.
Secretly, she admitted to herself that she was more than a little jealous of Blair. Blair was happy…she was having a great time…she was really into the competition. Blair was at her best…and she knew it.
That’s the way I used to feel, Corky thought. That’s the way Bobbi and I always felt when we were cheering. We always felt so confident, so terrific, so on top of everything whenever we put on our uniforms.
But now…
Now she could only watch Blair and the other happy, enthusiastic cheerleaders, and envy them.
Corky found a seat on the very end of a bench, about eight rows up from the floor. Debra sat beside her, nodded to her, smiling, but didn’t say anything.
Corky turned away from Debra, still feeling hurt and angry by Debra’s behavior toward her that morning. She looked down from her vantage point and watched Blair O’Connell encourage her squad. Blair went from girl to girl, saying something to each one.
A spotlight came on high in the ceiling rafters, throwing a white circle of light onto the gleaming, polished floor. The bleachers grew quiet.
“The Redwood Bulldogs will go first tonight,” announced the voice on the loudspeaker. “Whenever you are ready…”
The judges raised their clipboards as if at attention.
After a long pause the Bulldogs came running out clapping from beside the bleachers. They entered in a single line, Blair O’Connell in the lead.
As Blair ran into the spotlight, she performed a handspring. She dived forward onto her hands, flipped her body over, and landed effortlessly on both feet. Still on the run, she started into a second handspring.
But as she leapt this time, she appeared to trip over something.
Startled, her eyes grew wide. Her arms flew up.
She plunged forward, falling.
Her arms flailed the air helplessly as she landed—on her face.
Corky heard the sickening crack as her face hit the hardwood floor.
Her arms continued to thrash about wildly, but Blair made no attempt to get up.
The silence in the gym hung heavy. The spotlight flooded her still form with glaring white light.
When Blair finally raised herself up, her eyes wild with confusion and fright, bright scarlet blood was gushing from her mouth like spurting water from a fountain.
Even from where she was sitting, Corky could see the cut in Blair’s lip. And she could see that her two front teeth had been broken in half.
