“Hey—what’s wrong with your hands?” Chris’s voice broke through the roar.
“Huh?” I blinked several times, struggling to focus.
Chris took my right hand and turned it palm up. We both stared at the line of little red bruises in the center of my palm.
“Did you cut yourself?” Chris asked.
“In my sleep, I think,” I told him. “I dug my nails into my skin. Must have been having a bad dream.”
He examined the palm, holding my hand gently. I liked the way he held my hand. It sent a tingling feeling up my arm.
“It must have been a really bad dream,” he said, finally letting go. “I don’t blame you for having bad dreams, Karen. Not with the horrible murders on this campus.”
I felt guilty about not telling him my real name. It was probably better to play it safe, though. He might slip and tell someone he’d met a girl named Hope. Then I’d be in big trouble. It was better to let him go on thinking my name was Karen.
Chris shoved the newspaper away. “Can you believe it? Two girls from the same dorm room?”
I didn’t know what to say. I almost blurted out that I knew them too.
But of course that would be a stupid thing to admit. It would bring up too many other questions. I certainly didn’t want to tell Chris that I knew Mary and Margie because I had lived across the hall from them!
It wouldn’t take Chris long to figure out that I was the girl the police were looking for. So I just shook my head sadly and didn’t say a word.
“I think we should talk about something else,” Chris suggested. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ve been thinking about the murders too.”
We ordered tall iced mochas and split a plate of cookies. I think he felt as shy as I did. But when we finally started talking easily, we couldn’t stop.
I told him some stories about Jasmine and Angel. After I described Angel to him, he started teasing me, saying I should definitely bring her along next time.
Next time? I thought.
Is there really going to be a next time? Does he like me enough to see me again?
We ordered more iced coffees and another plate of cookies. He told me about Big Al, his roommate at the apartment that burned down. Chris said that Big Al could talk his way out of anything.
“You won’t believe how Big Al talked a police officer out of giving him a speeding ticket,” Chris said, snickering.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Al told the cop that it wasn’t his fault he was speeding because he had fallen asleep behind the wheel, and so he had no way of knowing how fast he was going!”
We both laughed.
“And the cop bought that excuse?” I cried. “He didn’t give your friend the ticket?”
“No,” Chris replied. “He just walked back to his cruiser, scratching his head.”
We laughed some more.
And talked some more.
It was well after dark when we finally made our way out of the coffee shop. I was feeling so happy. Warm all over.
I took Chris’s arm and wrapped it around my waist. We sort of snuggled together as we walked. At the corner, I leaned closer and kissed him.
The kiss lasted a long time. I didn’t care if people passing by wanted to stare. I felt so good.
“I’ll walk you home,” Chris said, when we finally pulled apart.
His words ruined my warm feeling. “No!” I cried, way too sharply.
I could see his surprise.
“No. That’s okay,” I said, softer. “I live that way.” I pointed away from Fear Hall. “It’s way on the other side of campus. Too far out of your way. You don’t have to walk me.”
“Okay. When can I see you again?” he asked.
Yesssss! I thought. He really does like me!
I told him I’d call him at his dorm. He gave me his number. Then I turned and ran off before he insisted on walking me home again.
I practically flew home. I crossed streets without looking.
I’m not sure, but I may have been singing at the top of my lungs.
I knew he was the guy for me, I told myself. I knew it the first time I saw him.
Love at first sight. What a concept.
I jogged along Vermont. Then I trotted up the cracked and broken walk to the abandoned sorority house. It loomed dark and cold over the weed-choked yard. But I didn’t care. It looked like a palace for a fairy princess tonight.
I pulled open the door. I couldn’t wait to tell Jasmine and Angel about my time with Chris.
I burst into the living room.
A few steps from the entryway, I stopped—and uttered a cry. “Oh—!”
I pressed my hands against the sides of my face. “Darryl!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”
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16
He scowled at me. He was breathing hard, and his face was bright red. He tore off his leather jacket and heaved it at the wall.
I pressed my hands to my waist and glared back at him. I stood my ground. I didn’t back away. I’d seen Darryl like this before.
“Well?” I demanded. “What are you doing in my house?”
His lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Your house? This old wreck is now your house?”
I tried to hold back my anger. But it wasn’t easy. “Darryl, it’s all your fault that I have to live here,” I told him, spitting out the words. “It’s your fault I had to run from the dorm.”
His pale blue eyes grew even colder. “I did it all for you, Hope. You know that.”
“I didn’t ask you to kill Margie and Mary,” I cried. “I didn’t ask you to kill those girls!”
“You didn’t ask me,” he snapped. “But you wanted me to. Admit it.”
“I won’t admit it,” I shouted, folding my arms over my chest. “I was angry at them. But I didn’t want them to die. That—that’s crazy!”
He stared at me for a long moment without speaking. Then he said softly, “I didn’t come here to talk about that.”
“I want you to stop killing—” I insisted.
“I saw you with that guy,” Darryl said. His cheeks darkened to purple. “I saw you with him, Hope. You know I can’t allow that.”
“Allow that?” I shrieked. “Excuse me? Did you say you can’t allow that?”
I balled my hands into tight fists. My fingernails dug into the bruises in my palms, but I hardly noticed the pain.
I wanted to rush over and strangle Darryl. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat, and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.
How could I have cared about him so much? How could I have felt so close to him?
“You don’t own me!” I cried. “You can’t say what you’ll allow and what you won’t allow. Do you really think you can control my life? Do you really think you can control who I see and who I don’t see?”
By the time I finished that speech, I was gasping for breath.
Darryl stared back at me calmly. His face revealed no emotion at all, except for his red cheeks. “I can’t let you see this guy,” he said through clenched teeth. “He’ll only hurt you, Hope.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Darryl, go away,” I ordered in a trembling voice. “I want you to go away and not come back. I really do.”
He didn’t react. Just stared back at me coldly, so coldly I could feel the chill.
“Go away, Darryl,” I repeated, shaking my fist. “Go away. And no more murders. Do you hear me? No more. And leave Chris alone. Don’t you dare come near him.”
Darryl finally broke his silence. He tossed back his head and laughed, a cold, cruel laugh. “Do you really think this guy Chris likes you?” he demanded.
“Yes. I—”
“Have you forgotten Mark?” Darryl cried. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Mark Grazer.”
Of course I hadn’t forgotten Mark.
Just hearing his name made al
l the memories—the bad memories—flood back into my mind.
Mark Grazer . . .
I was so unpopular in high school. Shadyside High. It’s in a town called Shadyside, about fifty miles from Ivy State College.
My high school years were so unhappy. I wasn’t pretty, and I was so shy and overweight. And Mom never let me forget for a minute what a failure I was.
Then Mark came along. He was the first boy who ever liked me.
At least, I thought he did.
Even after my mother kept me from going to the dance with him, Mark asked me out again. He was so nice to me. He introduced me to all his friends. He said such wonderful things to me.
We went out to a diner with some of his friends. We talked for hours. We laughed and joked. Mark kept his arm around me the whole time.
What a feeling!
I didn’t get home till two in the morning. I knew my mother would be angry, but I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt normal. Part of a group.
Part of a couple.
I thought my life had changed. I thought I was in love.
Can you imagine how I felt when I found out that Mark had asked me out as a joke?
The day after our date, someone sent me a note. Unsigned.
It said that I should know the truth. That Mark had lost a bet with his friends. The loser of the bet had to ask me out and pretend to like me.
It was all a cruel joke. And the whole school knew about it.
They were all laughing at me behind my back. Everyone.
I locked myself in my room and cried for hours. How could Mark do that to me? How could everyone let him?
I couldn’t go back to that school. I couldn’t bear the staring eyes, the grinning faces.
Everyone knew. Everyone.
I stayed home the entire next week. I stayed in my room, crying and thinking. Thinking about how much I hated everyone in the world. Especially myself.
Luckily, I had Eden, Jasmine, and Angel. They stayed with me. They talked with me night and day. They were such good friends.
They tried to comfort me. They tried to tell me to be strong, to go back to that high school and pretend that nothing had happened.
But I couldn’t do that. My heart was broken. And I felt so . . . stupid and ashamed.
And then Darryl appeared.
Darryl was so wonderful. A boy I could trust.
Darryl really cared about me. He asked me out. He asked me to go driving around with him.
Darryl understood me right from the start. He knew all about Mark’s joke. He agreed that Mark was a sick creep.
I felt so good cruising around Shadyside in my car with Darryl at the wheel. So relaxed. So comfortable and happy.
We saw Mark walking on Park Drive, two or three blocks from the high school. Darryl tensed and leaned forward. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
He waited for Mark to start across the street.
Then he jammed his foot down on the gas pedal—and shot the car into Mark.
Mark never knew what hit him.
The front of the car slammed into Mark’s side and sent him flying. His arms and legs flew out. He hit the pavement on his face and stomach. And bounced a couple of times.
I’ll never forget the feel of the bump under our tires as Darryl drove the car over Mark’s body.
First the front tires bounced, then the back.
Then Darryl shot the car into reverse—and backed over Mark. Bump. Bump.
And then we rolled over Mark again. Bump. Bump.
Then we backed over him again. Bump. Bump.
Then we zoomed away, squealing with laughter, laughing till tears rolled down our cheeks.
What a day. What a memory . . .
I blinked a few times, blinking my thoughts away. I gazed around the dark living room of the abandoned sorority house, and realized that Darryl had vanished.
Has he left for good? I wondered.
I didn’t think so. Darryl was impossible to control. Impossible.
Melanie and her roommates in Fear Hall said I was crazy, I remembered. That’s what they told the police.
But I’m not crazy.
I need my friends. My good friends. Friends who will never leave me, never leave me alone.
I hugged myself tightly, feeling a deep chill. The room seemed to grow darker as my eyes wandered around it.
What will Darryl do now? I wondered.
He was in such a rage. Will he try to hurt Chris? Will he try to kill Chris?
“I hope not,” I murmured aloud.
Chris is such a great guy. He doesn’t deserve to be murdered by Darryl. He doesn’t deserve what happened to the others.
But, of course, I can’t control Darryl.
Can I?
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17
Chris
Will and I had been shooting a few racks at the pool hall on Elm across from the campus. The place was noisy and crowded as usual, and Will and I had a good time.
It helped to take our minds off all the horrible things that had been going down in the past few days. When you have to concentrate on hitting a cue ball straight, you don’t have time to think about crazed murderers stalking the campus.
Will and I were becoming pretty good buddies. We hung out together more and more. He was nearly as bad a pool player as me, so the game was close and exciting.
Naturally, I ran into Big Al there. At first, he pretended he didn’t know me. His idea of a funny joke. Then he joined Will and me at our table.
He cleared the table before we could pocket a single ball. Big Al has spent a lot of time in pool halls.
“I’ve got to run, man,” he said, after slapping my back so hard that my eyes nearly popped out. “You guys are no competition.”
“We’re just suckering you,” Will joked. “Play one more game, and we’ll show you how really bad we are!”
“Do you live in Fear Hall too?” Al asked Will.
Will nodded. “Chris and I are roommates.”
Big Al finished his can of beer and let out a ferocious burp. “I’d clear out of there now if I was you,” he advised, only half joking. “I think the stories about that place are true. The kids in that dorm are dropping like flies.”
Will and I exchanged glances. We had escaped the fear for a few minutes. But Big Al’s remark brought all the horror back.
“Catch you later,” Al said, giving us a two-fingered military salute. We watched him push his way through the crowd to the door.
“Is he always that loud and gross?” Will asked.
“You get used to it,” I replied.
A few minutes later, we finished our game and headed out of the pool hall. It was a cold, cloudy night. No moon or stars in the sky. The air hung heavy and wet, threatening rain or maybe snow.
I pulled the collar of my jacket up and ducked my head into the wind. Will pulled down the black wool ski cap he always wore.
“So what’s up with that girl you told me about?” he asked, hurrying to keep up with me. I walk fast when it’s cold.
“You mean Karen?” I asked. I felt a cold raindrop on my forehead.
“Yeah. Karen. You see her again?” Will asked.
I shook my head. “Not since the other night. She’s kind of strange.”
Will grinned at me. “How strange?”
“I—I don’t really mean strange,” I stammered. “I mean . . . strange!”
He laughed.
We crossed the pool hall parking lot and turned onto the street.
“She’s very private,” I explained. “I mean, it’s very hard to get any information from her. Hard to get her to tell me anything about herself. She wouldn’t even tell me her last name!”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk,” Will teased. “Maybe she just wants some action!”
I shook my head. “She won’t give me her phone number,” I complained. “And she won’t tell me where she lives.”
“Weird,” Will muttered. “Hey—it’s starting to rain.”
“The other night, I offered to walk her home,” I continued. “And she acted . . . I don’t know . . . almost frightened.”
Will’s grin faded. “Maybe she has a boyfriend,” he suggested. “Maybe she’s sneaking out with you behind his back. That would explain why she doesn’t want you calling or coming around.”
“Hmmm . . . maybe,” I replied, thinking hard about it. “No—wait.” I stopped walking. “She told me she just broke up with a guy. That’s right. The night I met her. She said she broke up with a guy who was really jealous and possessive.”
“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Will asked.
I didn’t have a chance to answer.
I saw car headlights flash on.
I heard the squeal of tires.
“Hey—!” I opened my mouth in a startled cry.
The headlights washed over me. The car engine roared.
It’s not going to swerve! I realized. Frozen. Helpless.
It’s not going to turn.
It’s going to crash right into me!
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18
With a terrified scream, I shot out my arms, stretched forward—and dove to the side of the street.
I landed hard on my stomach and hands, and slid about six feet over the wet asphalt.
“Oww!” Gravel sprayed up into my face. The street scraped the skin off my right hand.
I turned in time to see the car squeal to a stop.
I shook my head, trying to shake away the dizziness.
Whose car was it? Who is driving? Why did he or she try to mow us down?
Questions flew through my brain, racing by as fast as my heartbeat.
Will! I thought. Where is Will? Is he okay?
Still on my stomach, I saw Will on the other side of the car. He was shouting something. Shouting angrily.
I pulled myself to my feet, my hand throbbing with pain, my heart thudding.
Will jerked open the driver’s door. He was shouting and cursing.