Psycho Killer (11 page)

Face it: We’re all the same.

“The invitations, the gift bags, and the champagne. That’s all we have left.” Blair lifted a cucumber slice off her plate and nibbled at it thoughtfully. “Kate Spade is still doing the gift bags, but I don’t know—do you think Kate Spade is too boring?”

“I think Kate Spade is perfect,” Isabel said, winding her dark hair into a knot on top of her head. “I mean, think how cool it is to have a plain black satin handbag now instead of all those faux animal skins with zippers and chains. It’s all such…
bad taste
, don’t you think?”

Blair nodded. “Completely,” she agreed. “Plus, black doesn’t stain.”

Always a plus when you’re out and there’s a bloody murder weapon to stash.

“Hey, what about my leopard sealskin coat?” Kati demanded, looking hurt.

“That’s
real
seal,” Blair argued. “It’s different.”

The three girls were sitting in the Constance cafeteria, discussing the upcoming
Kiss Me or Die
benefit to raise money for the Central Park birds of prey. Blair was chair of the organizing committee, of course.

“Those poor birds,” Blair sighed.

As if she could give two shits about the damned birds.

Isabel withdrew a tube of Chanel
Goldtrotter
lip gloss from her bag and began to smear it over her plump, dry lips.

“Wait, isn’t that Nicki’s?” Kati asked.

Isabel shrugged her shoulders and tossed the lip gloss back into her bag. “I took it from her locker. It’s not like she’s going to use it anymore.”

The girls had heard through the Constance grapevine that Nicki Button had suffered a brain hemorrhage right after morning assembly and would no longer be attending school, because she was dead.

“I really want this party to be good,” Blair insisted, eager to get back to the topic at hand. “You guys are coming to my planning committee meeting tomorrow, right?”

“Of course we’re coming,” Isabel said. “What about Serena—did you tell her about the party? Is she joining the committee?”

Blair stared blankly back at her.

Kati wrinkled her pert little ski-jump nose and nudged Isabel with her elbow. “I bet Serena is too busy, you know, dealing with everything. All her
problems
. She probably doesn’t have time.”

Across the cafeteria, Serena herself was just joining the lunch line. She noticed Blair right away and smiled, waving cheerfully as if to say, “I’ll be there in a minute!” Blair blinked, pretending she’d forgotten to put in her contacts, even though she didn’t wear them.

Serena slid her tray along the metal counter, choosing a lemon yogurt and skipping all the other lunch selections until she came to the water dispenser, where she filled up a cup with boiling water and placed a Lipton tea bag, a slice of lemon, and a packet of sugar
on the saucer. Then she carried her tray over to the salad bar, where she filled up a plate with a pile of romaine lettuce and poured a small puddle of blue cheese dressing beside it. She would have preferred a shaved horse meat and arugula sandwich in the Gare du Nord in Paris, eaten in a hurry before leaping onto the Eurostar train to London, but this was almost as good. It was the same lunch she’d eaten at Constance every day since sixth grade. Blair always got the same thing too. They called it the “starvation plate.”

Blair watched Serena assemble her lunch with compulsive precision, dreading the moment when the psychotic blonde would sit down next to her in all her glory and start trying to be friends again. Ugh.

“Hey guys.” Serena smiled radiantly as she sat down next to Blair. “Just like old times, huh?” She laughed and peeled back the top of her yogurt. The cuffs of her brother’s old shirt were frayed and bloodstained. Stray threads dangled in the yogurt’s watery whey.

“Hello, Serena,” Kati and Isabel responded in unison.

Blair lifted her head and forced the corners of her glossy lips upwards. It was almost a smile.

Serena stirred her yogurt and nodded at Blair’s tray, where the remains of her bagel with cream cheese and cucumber were strewn. “I guess you outgrew the starvation plate,” she observed.

“I guess,” Blair said. She smashed a lump of cream cheese into her paper napkin with her thumb, staring at Serena’s sloppy cuffs in bewilderment. It was fine to wear your brother’s old clothes in ninth and tenth grade. Then, it was cool. But now, with the cuffs so obviously bloodstained, it just seemed unsanitary.

“So my schedule totally sucks,” Serena said, licking her spoon. “I don’t have a single class with you guys.”

“Um, that’s because you’re not taking any APs,” Kati observed. “I’m surprised you didn’t have to repeat your junior year.”

Serena frowned. The teachers at Hanover who’d given her Cs had boosted her grades when she’d asked them to. Right before they died.

“My grades were okay.”

“You’re lucky you’re not taking any APs,” Isabel sighed at her untouched bagel. “I have so much work to do I can’t eat.”

Luckily the trend this fall is “fatally thin.”

“Well, at least I’ll have more time for fun.” Serena nudged Blair’s elbow. “What’s going on this month, anyway? I feel so completely out of it.”

Blair sat up straight and picked up her plastic cup, only to find there was no water left in it to drink. She knew she should tell Serena all about the
Kiss Me or Die
party and how Serena could help with the preparations and how fun it was all going to be. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Serena was out of it, all right. And Blair wanted her to stay that way.

“It’s been pretty lame. There really isn’t much going on until Christmas,” Blair lied, shooting a warning glance at Kati and Isabel.

“Really?” Serena said, disappointed. “Well, what about tonight? You guys want to go out?”

Blair glanced at her friends. She was all for going out, but it was only Tuesday. The most she ever did on a Tuesday night was rent a movie with Nate. Leave it to Serena to make her feel boring.

“I have to study for my AP French test tomorrow.” Blair stood up. “Actually, I have a meeting with Madame Rogers right now.”

Serena frowned and began to chew on her raw thumbnail, a
new habit she’d picked up at boarding school. “Well, maybe I’ll give Nate a call. He’ll go out with me.”

Blair picked up her tray and resisted hurling it in Serena’s face.
Keep your hands off him!
she wanted to scream, jumping onto the table ninja-style.
Hiyeeh-yah!
But she’d already killed one person in plain sight today.

Speaking of which…

“Did you hear what happened to Nicki Button?” Blair said, her voice laced with acid.

Serena shook her head. “What about her? I haven’t seen—”

“Gone,” Blair interrupted her. “For good,” she added with a smirk.

Serena stared at her.

That’s right, S. You created a monster.

“I’ll see you later, guys,” Blair told the other two girls, and walked stiffly away.

Serena sighed and flicked a piece of lettuce off her plate. Blair was being such a bitch. When were they going to start having fun? She looked up at Kati and Isabel hopefully, but they were getting ready to leave too.

“I’ve got a stupid college advisor meeting,” Kati said.

“And I have to go up to the art room and put my painting away,” Isabel said.

“Before anyone slashes it?” Kati joked.

“Oh, shut up,” Isabel said.

They stood up with their trays.

“It’s so good to have you back, Serena,” Kati said in her fakest voice.

“Yeah,” Isabel agreed before they walked away.

Serena twirled her spoon around and around in her yogurt
container, wondering what had happened to everyone. They were all acting like freaks. She plucked at a blood-soaked thread dangling from her shirt cuff and bit it off with her teeth. She needed to get happy. Everyone needed to get happy. And she of all people knew just what to do.

When in doubt, throw a party.

TWO PARTIES TO CHOOSE FROM AND IT’S ONLY TUESDAY NIGHT

Looks like
S
didn’t come home to lie low. Tonight she’s ringing in the fall season with a pajamas-and-papaya-peppertinis soiree at her house, complete with tiki torches, and there is no guest list, so you can bring your little brother and his nose-picking friends and get them drunk for the first time, and her maid will even clean up afterwards. Or, you can go to
B
’s house because now that
S
is having a shindig, she’s throwing a bigger and better one with a DJ, full bar, and catering. Not that we mind. These are the sort of choices we live for. Until one of us dies, which is inevitable.

ABOUT THOSE VIOLENT, INEXPLICABLE DEATHS

Is it just me being paranoid, or is this neighborhood getting weirdly and wildly unsafe? I heard that New Jersey arms heiress is having a yard sale. Hopefully all the pretty purse-sized handguns won’t sell out before I get there. Although I haven’t a clue how to use one. Maybe I’m more the hunting-dagger-in-a-thigh-holster type. Or I could just get a big dog with teeth the size of steak knives. We girls have to protect ourselves—from each other.

WHERE THE BOYS ARE

Thanks for checking in, although most of you had little to say about
S
or
B
. Too scared to talk? You’d much rather talk about boys. Wouldn’t we all?

YOUR E-MAIL

N
has this cute little gag where he buys two slices and he always offers
Claire
one. She holds on to it the whole time they’re talking and finally takes a little weensy bite off the tip of the slice. Then
N
goes, “I can’t believe you did that, you’re eating my pizza!” and swipes it out of her hands and eats the whole thing in like two bites. This makes
Claire
laugh so hard her boobs nearly pop out of her shirt. The L’Ecole girls all wear really tight clothes and short skirts and high heels. They’re like, the ho’s of the Upper East Side school system.
N
likes to flirt with them, and so far that’s as far as it’s gone. But if
B
leads him
on any longer, he might start giving
Claire
more than just a bite of his pizza. This time, though,
Claire
surprises him by asking if he’s heard about
S
.
Claire
claims to have heard that
S
not only got pregnant last year, but that she gave birth in France. Her baby’s name is
Jules
and he is alive and well and living in Marseilles.