Drop Dead Gorgeous Read online

  “I . . . wasn’t serious,” he said. “It was like a joke.”

  I didn’t let him off the hook. “What’s the joke part?”

  He decided to play the sympathy card. “Look, Morgan, I’ve had a bad day, you know? My mother’s funeral? Maybe I’m not thinking clearly. Maybe . . .”

  I should just bite his throat and drain him dry, I thought, watching him squirm. He looked so cute. I should drain him right in front of everyone. That would give the girls a thrill.

  The thought made me burst out laughing. I was seriously tempted.

  Too bad I’m still so full . . . from his mother.

  “Give Liam a break,” Julie said. She motioned to a dining room chair across the table from her. “Come sit down, Morgan. I want to show you all something.”

  I could see she was eager to change the subject. She could see Liam was suffering. I patted his hand. “You’re forgiven,” I murmured.

  Julie hurried from the room as I took my place next to Delia at the table. “Still lots of invitations to address,” she said.

  Liam sat down, too. His face started to return to its normal color. Amber was squinting at me through her glasses, studying me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “Look what we’ve got,” Julie said, striding back into the room. She raised a long-handled ax in one hand. The handle was painted in blue and yellow stripes.

  “Are you practicing to be a lumberjack?” Liam said. It wasn’t funny, but at least he was trying.

  “It’s the official Linden Vikings ax,” Julie said, holding it high. “See? The yellow and blue stripes, the team colors?”

  “We get it,” Amber said. “But . . . why do we need an ax?”

  “It’s from the old days,” Julie replied. “They used this ax to chop down the goalposts after winning a state championship. You know. A ceremony. The ax has been passed down for over fifty years.”

  “And why do you have it?” Amber asked.

  “Each year, it’s given to a Linden graduate who comes to the carnival to keep for a year. It’s an honor, see.”

  “Can I hold it?” Liam jumped to his feet. He reached out both hands.

  “Careful,” Julie said. “The blade is as sharp as it looks.”

  Liam raised the ax and held it for a while. Then his expression changed. His face appeared to crumble. His body slumped. “Wish . . . ,” he muttered. “Wish I could use this on that guy who killed my mother.”

  Then he burst out sobbing. Julie took the ax from him. Liam covered his face with both hands. His shoulders rolled up and down as his loud sobs shook his entire body.

  Julie turned and carried the ax from the room. Amber and Delia jumped up and wrapped Liam in a hug. They held on to him until his body stopped shaking and the sobs faded to silent tears.

  “Can we drive you home?” Amber asked.

  Liam shook his head. He took a Kleenex from Delia and wiped his eyes and cheeks. “No. I’m okay now. I can drive myself.”

  He started toward the front door. I took his arm and helped steady him, and we walked to his car. I opened the car door for him.

  “Sorry . . . about before,” he said, avoiding my eyes.

  “Forget about it,” I said. “At your house this afternoon, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I like you.”

  I couldn’t see his face. He didn’t reply. Just closed the car door, started it up, and squealed away.

  As I walked back to the house, I thought about Liam.

  He’s tense and sad now. His blood will taste sour.

  Liam is off the hook . . . at least for a while.

  His buddy Zane would taste sweeter, like a fine dessert.

  Yes. Zane. Zane the comedian who is always serious. The sweetest!

  My mouth is already watering. Zane for dessert.

  When I stepped back into the dining room, the girls had returned to the stack of envelopes. “Poor Liam,” I murmured. “I hope I didn’t upset him with my vampire joke. I’m so sorry about it now. It wasn’t in good taste, was it?”

  “Don’t feel bad,” Julie said. “Liam and his mother were very close. I know he always felt closer to her than to his dad.”

  Delia shivered. “Two murders in Linden. Two people we knew. I am so freaking out. I am seriously scared.”

  Julie’s phone buzzed. She raised it to her ear. “Hi, Mom. Where are you?”

  I could hear Mrs. Hart’s voice on the other end.

  Julie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no.” A moan escaped her throat.

  “What is it?” Amber cried.

  Julie’s mom talked some more. Julie just kept repeating, “Oh no, oh no.”

  Finally, she clicked off and set the phone facedown on the table. She shook her head.

  “What is it? What did she say?” Amber demanded.

  “Remember the funeral director today? That chubby guy in the tight suit? He did the ceremony at the funeral for Liam’s mom?”

  We all nodded.

  “He seemed nice,” I said.

  “He—he was murdered, too,” Julie said, her voice cracking on the words. “They just found him. In the chapel. He was killed. They think some time after the funeral ceremony.”

  Silence for a long moment. Everyone was trying to take in the shocking news.

  “Who would do that?” I cried finally. “That’s horrible!”

  “This means the killer is still out there,” Julie whispered.

  Everyone stared at one another.

  “Is someone just killing people we know?” Amber cried, her voice cracking. “Is someone following us around and randomly killing us?”

  No one had an answer.

  Julie sighed. “What should we do?”

  “Let’s keep working,” I said. “We can talk and maybe take our minds off what’s happening.”

  “Yes. We’ve got to keep busy,” Delia said. “It’s the only way.”

  We took our places, and Julie passed around envelopes and invitations.

  I volunteered for the invitation-sending committee because I had a good reason. I had some surprises in store for all my new friends.

  I had some people I wanted to invite. Special people.

  “Do you have any extras?” I asked Julie. “I just thought of some people I need to invite to the carnival.”

  46

  Julie Narrates

  “Are you sure I’m doing the right thing? I can’t decide. I keep going back and forth.”

  Zane paced my living room, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, shaking his head. His dark eyes appeared to be pleading with me.

  As if I had any answers.

  “I can’t tell you whether to go ahead with your stand-up act tonight,” I said. I motioned for him to join me on the couch. But he ignored my signals and kept pacing back and forth. “You’re wearing a hole in the carpet, Zane.”

  “I can’t sit still. I feel as if my head is exploding.” He swept a hand tensely back through his short, dark hair. “How can I be funny if I’m so wound up?”

  “Then don’t do it,” I said.

  He blinked at me in surprise.

  He looked so cute when he was so tightly wired. I couldn’t help it. I knew he was upset. But I just wanted to grab him and hug him and kiss him until we both felt better.

  We all missed Winks, but I think Zane was having the hardest time accepting his death. Zane has always been so sensitive and thoughtful. He thinks a lot about things, sometimes too much. I mean, it’s hard for him to let things go.

  I think we were ten or eleven when his dog was hit by a car. Zane took it so hard. I remember him crying and carrying on. It was like he didn’t know who to blame. He didn’t come out of his room for days.

  Of course, having Winks as a friend was even more important to him than the dog. He was too old to shut himself up in his room now. But I could see he had the same sadness and the same disbelief, and the same anxiety as when we were ten.

  “I just don’t know if
I can be funny,” Zane said, lowering his head. “I feel like my timing will be totally off. Last time we were all there, Winks was right across from the stage, grinning up at me. I can still see his goofy grin. It meant a lot to me, especially since no one was laughing very much.”

  “Well, okay. Your cousin will understand if you cancel,” I said.

  “Yeah. Martin’s a good guy. But it’s like a really big favor. You know. To let me go up there on open mic night. He might decide . . .” His voice trailed off.

  I patted the couch cushion beside me. “Come sit down. You’re making me crazy with your pacing.”

  “I don’t have any new jokes,” Zane said. “How could I have new jokes?” He slumped beside me and crossed his arms in front of his T-shirt.

  “Do you want to write some tonight?” I said. “We could try together.”

  He thought about it for a long moment. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  I couldn’t hold back any longer. How long had I been trying to get Zane’s attention? Years? Why had I been so shy with him? Just because we’d known each other forever?

  My heart started to flutter in my chest. “I want to tell you something,” I said softly.

  He turned toward me. “What?”

  I lurched forward, threw my arms around his shoulders, and kissed him. I moved my lips against his. I was desperate to show him I was serious about this.

  He uttered a little cry of surprise. I could feel him start to pull back. But then he got into it. I guess he surrendered to it.

  Did he want this, too? Did he have the same feelings I had?

  I hoped so.

  We were both breathless when the kiss ended. I pressed my forehead against his.

  He snickered. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, can I tell you something?”

  I nodded.

  And he kissed me again.

  I raised my hands to the back of his neck and held him there.

  Zane and I have wasted a lot of time, I thought.

  But that’s old news now.

  Then the front doorbell rang.

  I slid my hands off his neck and ended the kiss. Zane jumped to his feet.

  A few seconds later, I opened the door, and gasped. The vampire hunter was standing there. He had a bandage covering his white-blond hair. He wore a long, tan trench coat despite the warm spring air.

  He raised his wallet with the fake ID. I read his name: Calvin Imhoff. He shook his head, his expression grim.

  I uttered a cry. “Oh no. Has there been another murder?”

  47

  Zane Narrates

  Saturday morning, I kept waking up every hour on the hour. But I pulled the bedspread over my head, curled up tight, and kept forcing myself to go back to sleep.

  Every time I woke up, I thought about Julie. In the back of my mind, I’d always suspected she and I would end up together. I guess the reason I never did anything about it was that I just accepted that one day it would happen.

  Does that make sense?

  Nothing was making sense in my jumbled-up brain.

  At eleven, my phone ringtone made me sit up, instantly alert. I grabbed the phone off the bedside table and, blinking away any lingering sleepiness, gazed at the screen.

  “Morgan?”

  “Hey, Zane. How you doing?”

  I stifled a yawn and, sitting on the edge of the bed, stretched my back. “Not bad.”

  Why is Morgan calling me on a Saturday morning?

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry I missed your stand-up act last night,” she said. “How’d it go?”

  “It didn’t,” I replied. “I canceled it.”

  “You didn’t do it?”

  “I couldn’t,” I said. “I don’t feel funny. I . . . couldn’t write any new jokes, and . . . I just knew it was too soon. You know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said. “No one feels funny. How could you? With someone killing people you know.”

  “That weird Imhoff guy showed up last night,” I said. “At Julie’s.”

  “You were at Julie’s?”

  Do I hear a tiny bit of jealousy in Morgan’s voice? Is she interested in me now . . . now that Winks is gone?

  I pictured her face. So awesomely beautiful. So perfect.

  And then I thought about Julie. Julie and me, together now as we should be.

  Morgan . . . Julie . . .

  “Imhoff was all bandaged and weird because of Liam smashing that skillet into his face,” I said.

  “Why did the police let him go? He’s the murderer, right?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t understand—”

  “Well, what did he want?” Morgan’s voice suddenly sounded sharp. Suspicious.

  “At first we thought he’d come to tell us about another murder. But we were wrong. He just wanted information. About the murder that happened while he was in custody. I mean, he asked us a bunch of questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like did we see anything? Did we hear anything? Did we hear any rumors at school? Did we have any hunches about who did the murders?”

  Morgan snickered. “Hunches? You mean he was desperate?”

  “Yeah. Desperate,” I said. “I don’t think he has a clue.”

  A pause. Then she said, “He can’t be a real vampire hunter, can he?”

  “Maybe he is,” I replied. “He seemed totally serious about it. He said he’s going around asking everyone if they have any idea at all.”

  “Why does he think it’s someone at school?” Morgan demanded. “It’s probably a stranger, right? Probably someone no one knows.”

  I had to think about that. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “I mean, we don’t have a vampire walking around in the halls at Linden High, do we?” Morgan laughed again. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Well . . .”

  “This crazy dude is wasting his time questioning us,” Morgan said, becoming more heated. “If there really is a vampire, shouldn’t he be able to get the vampire’s DNA from the victims’ bodies?”

  “You’ve been watching too many Forensic Files,” I said. I could hear my parents arguing about something downstairs. Maybe they were upset that I was sleeping so late.

  I glanced at the clock. So, okay. I slept through my tennis lesson. But what’s the big deal?

  “Actually, he asked about you,” I said.

  “Huh? Me? What about me?”

  “He asked if we knew anything about you. Like where you came from and where you used to go to school. And how long did you know Winks. And did you know Liam’s mother. He had a bunch of questions about you, Morgan.”

  She laughed. “Now we know he’s totally clueless. I’m not a vampire, Zane. I’m a werewolf.”

  We both laughed.

  “But only under the full moon,” Morgan added. “Next time you see Imhoff, you should tell him that.”

  We both laughed some more. “I’d better go,” I said.

  “Zane, can I ask you a favor?” Morgan said.

  So this is why she called?

  “I have a bunch of stuff I have to bring up from the basement,” she said, “and I’m all alone here. Think you could come help me?”

  She said it kind of teasingly. I mean, she actually made it sound sexy.

  Could anyone resist that beautiful face?

  She is so totally hot.

  “Yeah. Sure,” I said. “Let me grab some breakfast, and I’ll come over in an hour or so.”

  “Oh, thank you, Zane. You’re a real sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart?

  I pulled on a pair of long cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt, and made my way downstairs. Mom and Dad were just on their way out to go grocery shopping.

  “We thought you were going to sleep all day,” Dad said.

  “How are you feeling?” Mom’s eyes studied me up and down. “Those shorts are too wrinkled to wear outside.”

  “I’ll unwrinkle them,” I said. �
��I’m feeling a little better.”

  Dad studied me, too. “You didn’t do your stand-up thing last night?”

  I shook my head. “I called Martin. He totally understood.”

  Mom nodded sympathetically. “It’ll take time, Zane. Just give it time.”

  Dad pushed open the screen door. “Anything we can get you to cheer you up?”

  I thought hard. “Just the usual.”

  The door closed behind them. A few seconds later, I heard their car start up.

  I grabbed a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of apple juice. Then I checked out my shorts in the mirror. They looked okay to me.

  I hurried over to Morgan’s house. I think she’d been waiting for me because she greeted me at the front door as I walked up her front lawn.

  She wore a sleeveless blue tee over red short-shorts. Her hair was tied behind her head in a single ponytail. She looked so amazing, my breath caught in my throat. I actually stopped breathing for a second!

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” she called. She came running down the lawn, ponytail bouncing behind her, those green eyes shining in the midday sunlight, and gave me a hug.

  The hug lasted longer than a normal hug. I mean, it wasn’t just a hug of greeting. She took my hand and, clasping it hard, led me into the front entryway of her house.

  “So you’ve got stuff in your basement?” I said. My voice sounded muffled, kind of breathless. I was, like, under her spell. She was too awesome to be real.

  “We’re just moving in,” she said, still holding my hand. “There’s a lot of cleaning out to do.”

  “Well, lead the way,” I said.

  But she didn’t lead the way; instead, she backed me up against the entryway wall. She pushed me gently with both hands. Then she slid her hands around my waist, brought her face close to mine, and kissed me.

  Her lips pushed hard against mine, so hard it hurt. She kept her eyes wide-open. They burned into mine as her mouth pressed against me.

  Her hands gripped me tightly. My heart was pounding so hard, I felt as if I had a bird in my chest, fluttering its wings to get out.

  Fluttering . . . Fluttering . . .

  I knew I was in some kind of fog . . . a white mist that circled me . . . something unreal that played with my mind. Her lips were real. Her kiss was real. But I felt myself falling into a silent whirlwind.