“In heaven,” Simone said coldly. She jabbed her bloody knife upward.
“I’m serious,” I insisted.
“So am I,” she said, grinning. “I’ve been staying in the prop room over the stage. It’s really very cozy, and the cafeteria provided all the food I needed. Anyway, I’ll be leaving soon. My work is almost finished. I’ll make up some kind of story about being kidnapped and go home. You know what a good actress I am, Lizzy. Everyone will believe me.”
She moved slowly toward me.
“What do you want with me?” I said. “I’ve never been out with Justin.”
Simone laughed. “That’s such a lie,” she said. “It really is amazing the things people will say when they’re scared.” Her face turned furious again. “I was there!” she snarled. “I heard him ask you to be his date to the prom.”
“Okay,” I said lamely. “He asked me. But I said no.”
“Is that so? Now, why don’t I believe that for a single second? You’re next, Lizzy. Sorry. I thought you were my friend, but you were only pretending. You didn’t care about me, either. You’re just like all the others.”
My mind was racing. What was she thinking?!
Get in her head! I ordered myself.
Maybe she was thinking, I can’t stop now. There’s no turning back.
“Simone,” I said, “when you’re caught, they’re going to put you away for a very long time. You know that, don’t you? Why don’t you stop now? Before you have more blood on your hands. You’ll only make it worse.”
Simone raised the knife in the air. “I’m not going to be caught,” she said, “because the only one who knows my secret is about to disappear.”
She started toward me again. I stepped back. But I was up against the cement wall. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide.
Then I felt them.
The ropes for the drop sets were tied off right by my left hand. I glanced at them.
One of the ropes would bring down a sandbag right in front of me. But which one?
Which one?
I’d only have one chance.
Frantically I chose one of the ropes.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I yanked on it with all my might.
Chapter
23
I opened my eyes as Simone charged toward me.
At the same moment the heavy sandbag plummeted down.
It was the right rope!
The bag crashed between us.
It landed with a cracking sound.
It took a long moment for the pain to register on Simone’s face. Then she began to scream.
The cracking sound—it had to have been Simone’s foot breaking under the weight of the bag.
Simone dropped the knife and fell to the floor, writhing in pain.
Crying out from the effort, she wrenched her foot out from under the sandbag. She reached out for her foot, but it was too painful.
She grabbed her face with her hands instead and lay down on the floor. She lay perfectly still.
The screaming had stopped.
There was total eerie silence.
I waited, trying to catch my breath. Then I moved slowly toward her. Was the actress faking again?
A few steps closer and I knew her screams had been real. Her foot was twisted at a right angle beneath her.
I grabbed the knife off the floor and pointed it at Simone’s prostrate body. I was shaking, hysterical. But Simone didn’t move.
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with agony and pleading. “The pain,” she moaned faintly. “The pain.”
Then she closed her eyes. Her head lolled back onto the floor. She had blacked out.
I stood staring at her for a moment before I came to my senses. Simone was going nowhere. Not with that foot. I ran across the stage. “Dawn!” I yelled. There was no answer.
But as I ran toward her, I thought I saw Dawn move.
“Dawn!”
I fell to the floor next to her, dropping the knife. “Dawn! We’re safe! We’re safe! Oh—please be okay. Dawn! Can you hear me? Dawn!”
Dawn raised her eyes to me. Then she opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.
“I’m going to get help,” I told her, “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll wait,” Dawn said.
I stared back at her, stunned. Had I really heard right? Had she made a joke? “You’re going to be okay,” I said.
I turned to go.
And that’s when she got me.
Simone’s face was just inches from mine. She squeezed her hands around my neck, choking me. Her long nails cut into my skin.
I didn’t have time to scream. She dragged my head down. Choking, I fell backward, over Dawn. Simone was on top of me now, squeezing my throat, crying out from her efforts.
I tried to pry her hands off my neck, but I had no strength left in my arms. I was about to black out.
Suddenly Simone uttered a yelp of surprise. Her grasp around my neck loosened instantly. Choking, sputtering, I struggled to fill my lungs with air, holding my hands to my neck.
Still screaming, Simone crawled off me. I saw what had happened now. I saw blood pouring down Simone’s leg. I saw the knife fall from Dawn’s hand. She had stabbed Simone in the leg.
As I desperately tried to catch my breath, Simone dived for the knife.
“N-no!” I stammered hoarsely.
But Simone grabbed it, let out a scream of fury, and raised the knife over her head.
I was on my feet now. I dived at Simone. We fell over with a crash, and the knife flew out of her hands and skittered out onto the half-lit stage.
We began wrestling, tumbling over and over. Simone grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked with all her might. I screamed and went down. As I tried to recover, Simone punched me in the stomach. Hard.
I curled up to protect myself. But then I realized she wasn’t coming after me. She was hobbling away, out onto the stage, desperate to get the knife. Summoning my last ounce of strength, I lunged blindly and tackled her from behind.
She screamed again. “My leg! My leg!” This time the agony sounded even greater. But I didn’t let go. I held both her hands behind her back as tightly as I could. And then I started to scream.
I was still holding her tight when Mr. Santucci finally ran in. His face was filled with alarm and disbelief.
I was still holding tight minutes later when the police and paramedics he summoned came rushing in.
Finally, as they gently urged me away, I let go of Simone. My clothes were soaked with blood—but none of it was mine.
I glanced over at Dawn on her back on the stage floor. She was still wearing my leather jacket. One of the paramedics quickly unzipped it, revealing her stab wound.
I gasped at the sight of it.
The medic glanced up at me. “It doesn’t look bad,” he said.
Dawn let out a relieved sigh.
“Can you hear me?” I asked.
Dawn managed to nod.
The paramedic quickly began taping on a large cotton bandage. “Looks like this jacket helped protect you,” he told her.
I forced myself to smile at Dawn. “Hear that? It pays to dress warmly.”
Dawn was as pale as a ghost, but she smiled back. “See you at the prom,” she said.
Chapter
24
Kevin held me close for another slow dance. I rested my head on his shoulder. The perfume of the gorgeous gardenia corsage pinned to my dress wafted up. When the music stopped, Kevin smiled down at me, his green eyes twinkling.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but this is one prom I’m never going to forget.”
“That’s for sure,” I agreed. I had different reasons in mind than Kevin did.
We were walking hand in hand off the dance floor now, past the two bulletin boards the prom committee had set up in memorial for Rachel and Elana. Kevin caught my glance.
He said, “I think it’s great wha
t Mr. Brandt did, donating the prom queen money for a college scholarship in their honor.” He took my hand. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through,” he said.
I looked across the vast ballroom of the Halsey Manor House to where Dawn stood talking to several cute-looking guys. We had abandoned the whole prom queen idea, but Dawn was still the queen of this party—she couldn’t help it.
The music started again, and Kevin pulled me back toward the dance floor. I spotted Lucas Brown dancing with Shari Paulsen. Perfect—she was as weird as he was. But he looked happy for once. He finally had a date.
Moments later Dawn danced by with one of her many boys.
She stared admiringly at my dress. I was wearing the black, sexy one we had fought over at Ferrara’s. Dawn had insisted I wear it instead of her.
“You know what?” she said, leaning close. “It looks better on you.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice, right?” I asked skeptically.
“Right,” she replied. And quickly danced away.
About the Author
“Where do you get your ideas?”
That’s the question that R.L. Stine is asked most often. “I don’t know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can’t wait to write.”
So far, he has written over a hundred mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them best-sellers.
Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Simon Pulse edition February 2003
Text copyright © 1992 by Parachute Press, Inc.
SIMON PULSE
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Children’s Publishing Division
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All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
ISBN: 978-0-6717-2485-6 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-4814-1377-0 (eBook)
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R.L. Stine, The Prom Queen
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