Give Me a K-I-L-L

by R. L. Stine

  Devra shook her head. “Your parents should sue Gretchen Page. She’s the one who was negligent.”

  “What’s up with Gretchen?” Stacy asked. “She’s the only one on the squad who hasn’t come to visit me.”

  “Probably feels guilty,” Courtney said.

  “She is guilty,” Devra said heatedly. “She did this to you, Stacy. Of course, I was supposed to go first. So I guess she wanted to burn me.”

  Stacy gasped. “You can’t think it was deliberate, Devra. No way. It was a total accident. I’m sure of it.”

  “Why are you sure of it?” Devra demanded.

  Stacy opened her mouth but didn’t reply.

  “Gretchen was so desperate to be on the squad,” Devra continued. “She felt that I cheated her out of her place. So … if she handed me a baton soaked in kerosene, she could accomplish two things. Get rid of me and get her place on the squad.”

  “That’s crazy,” Courtney chimed in. “I’m sorry, Devra. I don’t like Gretchen, either. But no one would try to burn someone up just to get on a cheerleader squad. No way. No way.”

  “She’d have to be a total psycho,” Stacy said.

  Devra jumped to her feet. “Well, who says she isn’t? Who says she isn’t a total psycho? Let’s talk about Madison Grossman. Madison tried to be Gretchen’s friend. As far as I know, she was Gretchen’s only friend. And she ends up with acid burning through her neck and killing her.”

  Devra was breathless now, her voice high and shrill. She gave her red hair a violent toss behind her shoulders. “You get doused in kerosene and Madison is murdered with acid. You don’t think there’s a connection? The connection is Gretchen. Do you seriously think I’m just being paranoid?”

  “Yes,” both girls answered at once.

  “Yes, you’re being paranoid,” Stacy said. “You have no reason to accuse Gretchen … no reason at all.”

  Devra’s face was bright red and she was breathing hard, her chest heaving. “I have a real problem with Gretchen Page,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I have to deal with Gretchen. I just haven’t figured out how.”

  38.

  Trapped in Devra’s basement, Gretchen and Sid froze in panic. They heard the basement door click shut and the soft thud of approaching footsteps.

  Gretchen turned to Sid. They both stood still, their bodies locked tight, waiting for their brains to unfreeze.

  Nowhere to hide.

  Sid dropped to his knees and squeezed under the worktable. But he was still in plain sight. Gretchen looked one way, then the other. The basement became a blur of grays and dark browns in her eyes.

  The footsteps grew louder. Heavier.

  This was stupid. We shouldn’t be here. I didn’t even prove anything about the acid.

  Finally she dove behind Devra’s wooden cabinet and dropped to her knees. She knew she was only half-hidden. But there was nowhere else.…

  And then there he was, entering from the gym doorway. A tall man in a dark suit, white shirt open at the collar. Gretchen could see him so clearly … too clearly. It meant he could see her.

  If he turned to the left, he would see both her and Sid.

  Her nose suddenly itched. Oh no. Don’t sneeze. This isn’t a sitcom. This isn’t a comedy. This is serious trouble. Don’t sneeze.

  The man carried a black briefcase in one hand. He took long strides across the concrete basement floor. He had wavy dark hair, balding in front. A short mustache. Dark eyes behind owlish glasses.

  He’s so close to me now. He could almost reach out and touch me.

  Devra’s dad. It has to be Mr. Dalby.

  He had been walking quickly toward the stairs that led to the first floor. But now he stopped.

  Gretchen’s heart stopped, too.

  He senses something. Why did he stop? He knows someone is here. He can feel it.

  Her panic was almost too much to bear. She almost let out a frightened scream.

  We’re caught. Caught. And no way to explain why we are here.

  She had been holding her breath, struggling to hold back her sneeze. But now her chest felt about to burst.

  And then a voice from the gym doorway. “Dad? Are you home? I saw your car.”

  Mr. Dalby spun around as Devra came walking into the basement. “I just got home,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”

  “It’s Saturday, Dad. What do I do every Saturday?”

  “Oh. Right. You were at the stable.”

  “Then I went to visit Stacy at the hospital.”

  He slid an arm around her shoulder, and they began to walk side by side to the stairs. Past Gretchen and Sid. Past them without seeing them.

  “How is Stacy doing?” Mr. Dalby asked.

  “She looks terrible” Devra said. “But everyone tells her she’s doing really well.”

  “Such a tragedy,” her dad murmured. “A tragedy.”

  “I guess she’ll be okay eventually,” Devra said. “She’ll just have to cover up her arms for the rest of her life. And forget about wearing a bikini.”

  They disappeared up the stairs.

  Gretchen and Sid didn’t move. They didn’t speak.

  The upstairs door closed with a soft click. They could hear footsteps on the ceiling above them. They still didn’t move.

  Finally, Gretchen pulled herself upright behind the cabinet. “A close one,” she whispered. Her whole body shuddered. Her skin tingled with lingering fear.

  Sid scrambled out from under the workbench. “We’re not out of here yet,” he whispered.

  Gretchen motioned for him to follow her. They both began to tiptoe toward the door to the garage. They were almost to the gym when a voice shouted, “HEY—WAIT!”

  39.

  A low cry escaped Gretchen’s throat. She felt her knees start to fold. Sid grabbed her arm, his eyes wide with fright.

  “Wait—” Devra’s voice from the top of the stairs. “Dad, I left all my riding gear in the car. I’ll be right back.” She started down the steps.

  Now we’re trapped, Gretchen thought. Now we’re definitely doomed.

  “Get it later,” Gretchen heard Mr. Dalby shout. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  Gretchen held her breath until Devra had vanished from the stairway. “I guess that’s what you call a close one,” she whispered to Sid. She and Sid lurched out of the house and, keeping in the shadows as best they could, made their way, still shaking, still breathless, to her car.

  * * *

  “Did you pack any bug spray?” Mrs. Page asked, eyeing Gretchen’s travel bag.

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Mom, it’s almost November, remember? I don’t think bugs are going to be a problem.”

  “Spiders live into the winter,” her mom said. “Especially in those camp cabins. They’re probably infested with spiders.”

  “Well, thanks for giving me something to worry about once again,” Gretchen said sarcastically. “I promise I won’t go barefoot, okay?” She lifted the bag and started to the front door. The bag was heavier than she thought.

  “Aren’t you going to mention snakes?” Gretchen said. “The cabins are probably infested with snakes, too. There are probably snakes in every bed.”

  “You’re so funny,” Mrs. Page said, frowning. “Why do you get so much pleasure out of making fun of me?”

  “Because it’s so easy?”

  “Any time I show a little concern, Gretchen, you ridicule me. Shouldn’t you think about that?”

  Gretchen set the bag down. “You don’t show concern, Mom. You just try to create anxiety. You either try to put me down, or you tell me why I shouldn’t do something I want to do. Shouldn’t you think about that?”

  Mrs. Page shook her head hard, as if shaking off Gretchen’s words. “I don’t understand why you have a cheerleader retreat in the middle of the school year. Especially with all the horrible things that have happened.”

  “I guess it’s kind of for healing,” Gretchen answered. “Coach W
alker thought we should keep the retreat, and spend some time together. Time to talk about things and just … get our heads together. And, I guess we’ll concentrate on some new routines.”

  Mrs. Page didn’t seem to hear her. “Did you remember to pack a hat?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “I know it’s not summer, but the sun is still strong. And with your fair skin—”

  “I probably won’t be able to call,” Gretchen said. “Coach Walker warned us that there’s practically no cell service in the woods, and the camp doesn’t have WiFi.”

  “What if I need to reach you?”

  Gretchen shrugged. “It’s only four days.”

  “But … what if there’s an emergency? I’m sure the school has made a plan for communicating in case there’s some kind of emergency in the woods.”

  Gretchen uttered a disgusted groan. “See? There you go again. Worrying about nothing. Creating anxiety.”

  She suddenly pictured Devra.

  Maybe I should be worried. Maybe Devra does have a plan for me, a plan to create an emergency.

  A shiver of fear ran down her body. She hoped her mother couldn’t see it. She never wanted her mother to see her being the tiniest bit fearful. That would give her mom too big a victory.

  A horn honked out at the street.

  “I’ve got to go,” Gretchen said. “That’s the bus that’s taking us to the campground.” She set down her bag to open the front door.

  Mrs. Page stepped up behind her. “Don’t I at least get a hug? I won’t see you for four days.”

  Gretchen turned and obediently hugged her mother. She felt a stab of emotion. Her mother was a difficult person. No. An impossible person. But Gretchen realized she still loved her. She still needed her.

  “Have a good time, dear,” Mrs. Page said, forcing a smile.

  “I’ll try,” Gretchen said. And she carried her bag out the front door.

  * * *

  Mrs. Page carried her coffee mug into the den and sat down on the couch. The Today Show was on the TV, and they were showing a wildfire somewhere in California. She had the sound turned low. The TV was just a background blur to her thoughts.

  The coffee was strong and bitter, the way she liked it. She found herself thinking about her ex-husband, Gretchen’s father. She could never have strong coffee when he was around. It gave him heartburn, he said. Now I can make it as strong as I like. One of the advantages of being divorced.

  Of course, one of the disadvantages was having to deal on her own with a teenage daughter. Gretchen had become so sarcastic and bitter. The move to Shadyside had given her a fresh start, a chance to make new friends and start her life all over again. Why was she so angry all the time?

  And why does she take it out on me?

  Yes, there had been some tragedies at the school. One girl burned so badly in a horrible accident. And another girl murdered in front of the whole school.

  Did that explain Gretchen’s attitude?

  Gretchen’s mom swept her hair back over her nightgown. Time to get dressed. The TV show had moved on to a scene of damaged buildings and crying people somewhere in the Middle East. The news was just unbearable these days.

  She set down her coffee cup and clicked off the TV. Then she made her way upstairs, thinking about how Gretchen never liked the outdoors. She even hated the day camp we sent her to.

  She stepped into Gretchen’s room and gasped. Hurricane Gretchen had struck! The room looked as if it had been turned upside and everything from the closets and shelves and drawers flung everywhere.

  The bedspread lay in a heap on the floor. Jeans and T-shirts littered the carpet. Her backpack lay open in a corner with notebooks and papers spilling out of it. A dresser drawer overflowing with black tights sat on the bed next to a pile of sweaters and sweatshirts.

  I really don’t believe this. She thinks of me as her servant. I’m just here to clean up after her.

  Mrs. Page uttered a gasp when she spotted the phone on top of the pile of sweaters. She picked it up and pushed it on. “Oh, wow,” she murmured out loud. “Gretchen is not going to be happy. She left her phone behind.”

  And then … she couldn’t help herself. She prided herself at not being a snoop. She had to keep watch on Gretchen. Had to act as a responsible parent. More than that, a caring parent. But she never wanted to be a snoop.

  But here it was. And here she was, scanning through Gretchen’s emails. Nothing interesting … nothing interesting at all.

  But then Mrs. Page checked out the phone log. She glanced through the recent calls. Squinted hard at the calls Gretchen had made because she didn’t want to see what she was seeing on the screen.

  She didn’t want to see these calls. She wanted them to vanish. This was the last thing she wanted to see.

  And then, she couldn’t help herself. She felt the tears run down her cheeks. And she started to murmur in a trembling whisper: “Oh no … Oh, please … Oh, no.”

  40.

  She knew she had to act, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate. The room spun. I’m not even dressed. I haven’t brushed my hair.

  Her first instinct was to drive to school, maybe catch the bus before it left for the woods or wherever it was going. But no. By the time she got dressed …

  She spun away from Gretchen’s room. She strode unsteadily into her room and picked up the phone on the bed table.

  How do I reach the school? I don’t know the number? Is there still Information, or has the Internet ended that?

  She pushed 411 with a trembling finger. One ring … two …

  She brushed the tears off her cheeks. “Can you connect me with Shadyside High School? It’s kind of an emergency.”

  She was transferred to another operator. Then cut off. Then heard the phone ringing at the high school on her next try.

  “I need to speak to the principal. What’s his name? Hernandez?”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “It’s Eleanor Page. I’m Gretchen Page’s mother. I really need to speak to the principal.”

  “Can I put you on hold? I need to see if he’s in his office.”

  “Okay. Okay. But, please—”

  A click. Then silence.

  She tapped her fingers on the bed table. Wrapped the phone cord around her wrist as she waited. And waited.

  Finally, a man’s voice. “Hello? This is Victor Hernandez.”

  “The principal?” Her voice came out hoarse. She coughed and cleared her throat. “Mr. Hernandez?” She shut her eyes, trying to steady herself, slow herself down, get her thoughts in order.

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “This is Gretchen Page’s mother.”

  “Oh, yes. Hello, Mrs. Page. How are you?”

  “Has the bus taking the cheerleaders to the retreat … has it l-left?” she stammered. “I really hope—”

  “Yes. It’s on its way to the campgrounds,” Hernandez replied. “Coach Walker reported everyone is onboard. Do you need to speak to your daughter? Did she forget to bring something?”

  “N-no, I don’t need to speak to Gretchen. I need to speak to you.”

  “Well … if there’s a problem…”

  “I’ll be right there,” Mrs. Page said. “I’ll be right there. I have to see you right away.”

  * * *

  Gretchen pawed through her clothing. Some shirts toppled out of the bag and fell over the seat beside her. She reached the bottom of the bag, her hand grappling at the smooth leather.

  “Gretchen—what are you doing?” Shannon stood in the bus aisle, leaning over Gretchen. She picked up a sweatshirt that had fallen into the aisle and handed it to her. “Did you lose something?”

  Gretchen let out a growl. “Yeah. My phone. I think I left it at home.” She started furiously stuffing her clothes back into the travel bag.

  The bus hit a bump and several girls cried out. The bag jumped in Gretchen’s lap.

  “Maybe your mom can FedEx it to you,” Shannon suggeste
d.

  “I can picture it. I know where I left it,” Gretchen said. She slapped her forehead. “How could I be so dumb?”

  Coach Walker edged up beside Shannon. “Don’t worry about it, Gretchen,” she said, eyeing the tangle of clothes on the seat. “I told you girls your phones will probably be worthless at the camp. There is no service up there. No cells for miles.”

  Gretchen gritted her teeth. “I just hate being forgetful.”

  Shannon helped her shove all her belongings back into the bag, and she hoisted it back onto the overhead rack. Flat, gray farmland whirred past outside the bus window. The fields were bare. The low clouds that appeared to be following the bus shut out any sunlight and made it look like the middle of winter outside.

  Shannon motioned to the back of the bus. “Check out Sid. The only guy on this trip. He gets his own cabin. And he has all six of us to flirt with him. Is he a happy dude or what?”

  Gretchen turned and followed Shannon’s gaze. No. Actually Sid didn’t look happy at all. He was in the very backseat, squeezed next to Devra. They were both talking at once, gesturing with their hands.

  Squinting down the bus aisle into the gray light, it took Gretchen a while to realize they were shouting at each other, their expressions cold and angry.

  Holding onto the seatback in front of her, Gretchen kept her eyes on them, watched their angry gestures. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the roar and rumble of the bus, but she could see they were practically spitting their words at each other.

  Ducking her head so they wouldn’t see her watching them, she was suddenly filled with confusion and surprise.

  What on earth are Sid and Devra fighting about?

  41.

  Mrs. Page emptied out her pocketbook into the plastic tray and shoved the tray at the security guard, a lanky black woman wearing a loose-fitting blue uniform and a Chicago Cubs cap over her hair. A plastic name badge said her name was Audrey.

  “In my day, we didn’t have to go through a metal detector to get into school,” Mrs. Page said.

  “It’s a different world, ma’am,” Audrey replied.

  Mrs. Page gazed down the long empty hall, yellow tile walls, gray metal lockers lining both sides. She heard a steady thumping sound and saw a boy two-thirds of the way to the end slowly dribbling a basketball on the floor as he walked. A maroon-and-white banner strung from the ceiling read: TIGERS ROAR.