by R. L. Stine
Batiste opened his mouth to ask another question, then stopped. “We’re going to have to look into this. I’ll send someone to the car wash.”
He sighed. “I guess that’s enough for now.”
“Thank you, Delia,” DeMarco said. She tucked her tablet into her bag.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful about the guy,” I murmured. “I just—”
“That’s okay,” Batiste said. “We’ll check out the car wash. You just gave us our first real clue.”
36
Delia Continues
I stepped into the lunch line at school. I wasn’t very hungry. Of course, I’m never very hungry. I didn’t want to eat, but I had a gnawing feeling, a heaviness, a feeling of emptiness that wouldn’t go away.
Winks was gone, and I knew I had to find a way to go on and be as normal as I could be. But I also knew this empty feeling would never leave me. Several times a day, I had to force myself to hold back the tears, and the constant tension, the worry that I’d break down made me tense and tired and edgy.
I wanted to burst out of my own body and just fly free. Escape from myself. I never liked myself that much anyway. My shrimpy body. My babyish, bobbing ringlets of curly hair. My tiny mouse voice. The way I needed people . . .
I always wanted to be someone else.
I longed to be confident and pretty with all-American good looks like Julie. Or as driven and talented as Amber. Or . . . as stunningly beautiful as Morgan. But who could even dream of that?
I saw Amber, Zane, and Liam at a table near the front of the lunchroom. I took a deep breath. I knew I had to sit with them. But could I keep myself in control?
All three of them were talking at once. I wondered if they were talking about Winks. Or had they put the awful murder out of their minds? Were they ready to move on? To pretend it didn’t happen to one of their best friends?
I suddenly realized someone was calling my name. I looked up and uttered a sharp cry of surprise. I stared across the counter at Liam’s mother.
It took me a few seconds to remember that Mrs. Franklin worked as a server in the lunchroom. “Delia, hi.” She wore a long white apron over her dark top and jeans. Her light brown hair, mixed with streaks of gray, poked out from under her mesh cap.
Liam never talked about his mother working in the school. I’m not sure why, but I think he was embarrassed about it.
“Mrs. Franklin—” I started.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “How are you doing, dear? Liam told me the whole story. So frightening.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Liam has been in a daze,” she said, leaning over the food table. “I don’t think he really believes what happened. I don’t think any of us do.”
“It . . . it’s horrible,” I managed to choke out.
The other two servers were watching her. Mrs. Franklin suddenly realized she was keeping the line from moving. She shook her head sadly. “Well, pile up your tray, Delia. It’s free for you today. I’m sure Winks’s death hit you harder than most everyone. Chin up, dear.”
I thanked her and put a few dishes on my tray without even looking at them. I knew I wasn’t going to eat. I carried the tray to my friends’ table and sat down next to Amber, across from Liam and Zane.
They greeted me with grim faces. I could see they were studying me, trying to see how I was doing, how I was handling the whole thing.
“Afraid we can’t stop talking about Winks,” Amber said, pushing her glasses up on her nose. Her hair appeared stringier than usual. She obviously hadn’t shampooed it for a while.
“It’s hard to think about anything else,” I said quietly. I pushed a fork through the macaroni on my plate. “This morning in government class, I didn’t hear a word Maloney said.”
“I never do,” Zane joked.
Liam jammed the last half of a hot dog into his mouth. He chewed noisily. Then he poked Zane in the side. “Aren’t you supposed to do another comedy thing at Chuckles this week?”
“I canceled it,” Zane said. He finished a small carton of apple juice. “Who can be funny now?”
“You never could!” Liam cracked.
Zane lifted the juice carton over Liam’s head and turned it upside down. But it was empty.
Amber turned to me. “Did those two cops question you yet?”
I nodded. “Yes. Friday.”
“I talked to them this morning,” Amber said. “But I couldn’t be helpful at all. I mean, I don’t know anything. I don’t have a clue. But they kept asking these questions. Like, did they expect me to tell them who the killer was?”
“I didn’t have anything to say, either,” Liam said, reaching for another hot dog on his plate. “Winks was my best buddy. I told them about our Ultimate Frisbee games and everything. They wanted to know if Winks had an enemy on our team. How stupid is that?”
“The cops didn’t seem stupid,” I said. “Just clueless.”
Amber put a hand on my shoulder. “Were they at least nice to you?” she asked. “Since you and Winks were so close—”
I let out a sigh. “I was in such a daze. I think I was still in total shock. I didn’t notice if they were nice or not.”
Liam pointed to my tray. “You’re not eating your lunch?”
“I’m not very hungry,” I said.
“Can I have your pretzel?”
Zane gave him a shove. They both grabbed for the pretzel at once. It broke in two, and they each got half.
Amber tangled and untangled a string of her hair. She was always a very tense person, but now she seemed strung as tightly as a wire. “Here’s what I don’t understand,” she said, lowering her voice to just above a whisper.
I leaned closer to hear. Liam stopped chewing the pretzel.
“Why was Morgan so hysterical over Winks?” she said. “I mean, I heard she just went crazy, screaming and crying. And how long did she know him? A couple of weeks?”
“You’re right. She barely knew him,” Zane agreed.
“I think Morgan is just very emotional,” Liam said. “She’s a very emotional person.”
“How do you know?” Amber snapped.
He shrugged. “I don’t.” Then a devilish smile spread over his face. “But I’d like to.”
Amber tossed up her hands. “Even now? Your friend is dead. Can you maybe let it go for just a second?”
I took a breath. “Do you think that Morgan and Winks had a thing? Do you think that’s why Morgan went so crazy when he was killed?”
“Of course not,” Amber answered quickly. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist. “Winks was crazy about you, Delia. He and Morgan never went out or anything. Winks wouldn’t do that.”
I studied her. Was she telling the truth? Or was she just trying to make me feel better?
I didn’t have long to think about it. Shouting voices at the lunch line made me turn to see what the commotion was. The room suddenly grew quiet.
I saw Morgan bang her tray with a fist. She was shouting at someone behind the counter. Mrs. Franklin, Liam’s mom.
Mrs. Franklin leaned over the counter and shouted back at Morgan. Her face was red. She tore off her mesh cap and slammed it against the counter.
Liam and I exchanged glances. What on earth?
Liam started to get up. I guess, to go help his mother.
But Morgan swung around and, carrying her tray in front of her, strode angrily toward us. She dropped her tray to the table, pulled out a chair next to Zane, and plopped down.
Her green eyes flashed angrily. She blew a strand of red hair from in front of her mouth. “Well . . . that was pleasant,” she said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“That woman happened,” Morgan muttered.
“Did you know she’s my mom?” Liam asked.
Morgan crinkled her face at him. “Don’t be funny.”
“No. Really,” he protested. “She’s my mom. What did she say to you?”
Morgan stared hard at him, try
ing to decide if he was joking. “Well . . . your mom said I had too much junk food on my tray. And she told me to put some of it back.”
Liam snickered. “That sounds like my mom.”
“And what did you say?” I asked.
“I said, if you don’t want people to eat so much junk food, why do you put it on the counter?”
“She probably didn’t like that,” Liam said, grinning.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Then we both started screaming at each other. It got crazy.”
“We heard,” Amber said.
“I think I told her where she could put her junk food,” Morgan said. She let out a cry. “It was stupid. I . . . I’m just not myself.” She lowered her head. Her hair fell over her face.
“Mrs. Franklin is actually very nice,” I said.
“She made one mistake in her life,” Zane said. “She had Liam.”
We all laughed. It broke the tension. Morgan raised her head and laughed, too.
She tore open a bag of potato chips and raised a handful to her mouth. “Delia, are you okay?” she asked. “How are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Hard to say. I . . . keep wanting to cry. Sometimes I just want to scream.”
“It’s like a nightmare,” Morgan said. “I keep trying to wake up and come out of it. Those cops questioned me for an hour yesterday afternoon.”
“What did you say?” Amber asked.
Morgan swallowed the last chip and crinkled up the bag. “What could I say?” she replied. “I told them the truth. I killed Winks and drank his blood.”
37
Julie Narrates
I really wanted to have lunch with my friends. But Mom needed me to do some paperwork and filing in the principal’s office. So I grabbed a tuna fish sandwich and a bottle of ice tea and ate while I worked.
I felt jumpy and out of sorts, like I wasn’t really myself. I tried to force all the sad thoughts from my mind, but I just couldn’t. The words from the TV news story this morning kept repeating in my mind. No way I could block them or erase them from my memory.
Someone had leaked that the Linden press was calling what happened the Vampire Murder. The news story said that Winks’s body had been examined and it was totally drained. No blood.
A police officer denied the whole thing. But there was the story, and someone—whoever examined Winks’s body—swore it was true.
Now, how do you stop thinking about that?
Especially when it was one of your best friends who was murdered.
The town of Linden is peaceful and small. And when something truly horrifying occurs, I think people are more shocked, more shaken—because it’s just not supposed to happen here.
A “vampire” murder? Not in Linden. No way that could happen in our little town.
As you can tell, I was awake all last night, thinking about all this. And now, I was still in such an unhappy haze, I realized I’d been putting the files I was collecting in the wrong cabinet.
I was still moving them to the right drawers when I looked up and saw Morgan Marks walk into the office. She wore an emerald sweater that matched her green eyes, over tight-legged black denims. The bright office lights made her creamy skin glow.
Normally, I wouldn’t think things like that. But she really was, like, perfect. And she gave me a smile, a warm smile, maybe the first one since I met her that night in the comedy club.
“Hey. Hi,” I said, setting a stack of files down on the front counter. “How are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Trying to keep it real.”
I nodded. “For sure.” Then there was an awkward pause.
“We missed you at lunch,” Morgan said. She snickered. “I freaked out your friends.”
I leaned on the high counter. “What do you mean?”
“I told them I confessed to the police that I killed Winks and drank his blood. It was a joke, but you should have seen the looks on their faces. Like maybe they believed me.”
I felt a chill at the back of my neck. “It wasn’t a very good joke,” I said.
She nodded. “Everyone always tells me I have a twisted sense of humor.”
“Yeah. Well. That was pretty sick,” I said. “Maybe this isn’t a good time for jokes.”
“I think I was just trying to cover up how scared and upset I am about Winks. You know. Like when people laugh or say stupid things at funerals?
I stared at her. “I guess.” I heard Mom on the phone in the inner office behind me. She was apologizing to some parent about something.
I glanced at the clock. Almost time to go to class, and I hadn’t finished my tuna fish sandwich.
“After my stupid joke, Amber mentioned that you are looking for volunteers,” Morgan said, sweeping back her hair off her shoulders.
“Volunteers?” I had to think hard. “Oh. You mean for the alumni carnival?”
Morgan nodded. “Yeah. But I have one question. What’s the alumni carnival?”
I laughed. “Didn’t Amber tell you? It’s a big party. They hold it here in the high school, and they invite more than a hundred Linden graduates to come.”
She shifted her backpack on her back. “It’s like a party?”
“You know, they have a DJ and there’s dancing. And there’s food, and an auction to raise money for the high school. And sometimes people perform.”
“Can I help?” Morgan asked. “I love being on committees and things.”
I tried to hide my surprise. Morgan didn’t seem like the committee type. But here she was volunteering. Maybe I had her all wrong. Maybe since she is so beautiful and seemed like such a flirt, I misjudged her.
“Sure,” I said. “That’s awesome. I’ll put your name down on the list.”
Morgan smiled, but her gaze was on someone behind me. I turned and saw my mom walking over to us from her office. “Morgan, just the person I wanted to see,” Mom said cheerily.
Morgan slid her backpack to the floor. “Seriously, Mrs. Hart?”
Mom nodded. “We’re having a little trouble gathering your school records. It turns out there were three Morgans in your class at Shadyside High.”
“Yeah, I know,” Morgan replied. “Two girl Morgans and one boy.”
“I think it’s caused some confusion,” Mom told her. “And I think it’s why we haven’t received your records.”
Morgan nodded. She didn’t reply.
“The school asked if we could send them a photo of you to help straighten it all out,” Mom said.
Morgan thought about it for a moment. “No problem,” she said. “Shall we take it right here?”
“Sure. Just stand against the wall,” Mom said. She turned and started back to her office. “I’ll get my phone.”
Morgan backed up to the wall. “This is weird,” she muttered to me. She straightened her hair with one hand and adjusted her sweater.
Mom returned with her iPhone. “You take it, Julie. You know I’m a klutz when it comes to this phone.” She shoved it into my hand.
I gazed at it. “Mom, you’re three phones behind. You need to upgrade.”
“I need to downgrade,” Mom said. “These phones are just too complicated.”
I turned to Morgan. She was still fiddling with her hair. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” I said. “They just want to identify you.”
She laughed. “So now you think I’m vain?”
I didn’t answer. I leaned my elbows on the counter, raised the phone, and centered Morgan on the screen.
“Smile,” Mom said.
I laughed. “Why should she smile? This isn’t going in the yearbook, Mom.”
I clicked the screen.
“I should turn sideways,” Morgan said. “You know, like in a police mug shot.”
“Why? Have you done something wrong?” Mom asked. I think she meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out funny.
“I’ll take one more,” I said. I clicked another one. Then I handed the phone back to my mother.
“I’ll
send it to Shadyside right away,” Mom said. “And we’ll straighten out this whole thing with your missing records.”
The buzzer blared right above our heads. “We’re late,” I said. I spun around, trying to remember where I left my backpack.
“Catch you later,” Morgan said. “And thanks for letting me be on the alumni party committee.”
“It’ll be fun,” I said. But she had already disappeared into the hall.
I found my backpack where I’d tossed it against the back wall. I hoisted it up and started out of the office.
“Hey, Julie,” Mom called from her desk. “Come here a minute. There’s something wrong.”
“Something wrong?” I turned and strode back to her office. “You mean with your phone?”
She nodded. “Look. Look at Morgan’s photos.”
I took the phone from her and glanced at the first photo. “Hmmm . . .” I slid my finger over the screen, flipping to the next photo.
“Totally weird,” I said.
The office wall was clear and sharp. But Morgan was a complete blur of green and brown. I couldn’t see her face at all.
38
Narrated by Mrs. Franklin, Liam’s Mother
Wednesday is my favorite day of the week because we serve the mini pizzas. They are easy to prepare. We just put tomato sauce and cheese on top of English muffin halves and bake them at a high heat in the oven.
The kids grab them up like crazy. There are usually only a few left after the lunch period. So they are easy to clean up and not a big deal to take care of.
Thursday is a different story because of the hamburger sliders. They are just as popular. But after lunch hour, I have to spend a long time scraping the grill and cleaning it and making sure it’s spotless.
The grease goes everywhere. I have to totally clean the tile backsplash, too, as well as the grill hood.
Eleanor Hadley, my boss, is a perfectionist, and I’m not. I admit it. So I’ve been reprimanded more than once for my incomplete cleanup job.
I need this job. Jim has been out of work for longer than I care to think about. So I have to deal with his depression, along with bringing some money into the house. His unemployment is going to run out soon. Then my job will be our only income.