Killer's Kiss (6 page)

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

T
he 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

D
elia 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.