Drop Dead Gorgeous

by R. L. Stine

“I’m sure it will be,” Mom said. “I’m so impressed with your organizing skills. You never could organize your clothes closet, and now you organized this whole event.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the compliment, Mom.”

  Amber and Delia showed up at the gym to check over the last details. A couple of the posters had come down and we tacked them back up. A few balloons had to be reinflated.

  Frankie Gerard came to test the sound system. The three of us clapped our hands to our ears as “Ice Ice Baby” blasted from the speakers. Frankie shouted something to us, but we couldn’t hear him. Finally, he stopped the music.

  “Frankie, we couldn’t hear you,” I called.

  “I was asking if that was loud enough,” he shouted.

  “I think maybe some people would like to have a conversation,” Amber said.

  Frankie squinted at us. “You mean turn it down?”

  “Where are the party bags?” Delia asked. “Did anyone fill them up?”

  The party bags were a going-away gift, a collection of nineties candies in each bag. “They should be in the hall,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”

  The red-and-yellow bags were lined up against one wall. I peeked inside one. It had Skittles, Hubba Bubba Bubble Tape, Sour Patch Kids, Haribo Goldbears, Airheads, Nerds, and Wonka Runts. Excellent.

  Delia held up a pack of Sour Patch Kids. “Are these really sour?”

  I shrugged. “Probably.”

  A hundred candy bags all lined up looked impressive. Some of the candy had been hard to find. But we wanted to bring back memories for the alums. And we expected one hundred guests at the carnival.

  Sure enough, people started to arrive a little after seven. I could feel my muscles tighten as the first couple walked in. I told myself to lighten up. Everything was organized. The party had to be a total success.

  You don’t have to do everything, Julie, I told myself for the hundredth time. Everyone has a job. Everyone is in place.

  I gazed around the gym. Frankie had his music going, toned down so it didn’t seem to be coming from inside your brain. Liam and Delia were at the food table. Amber was at the bar.

  We had all worked so hard. I thought about it as I watched more alums walk into the gym. Sure, we wanted to give a great party. But that wasn’t the reason we threw ourselves into it with such eagerness and enthusiasm.

  I think it was a serious distraction from the horrible murders, from all the nightmares we had been living through.

  I watched the Linden grads entering the gym and gazing around at the posters and other nineties decorations. They were all in their thirties. Most of them looked their age, or even older. Some of the men had bald spots on the tops of their heads and stomachs poking over their belts.

  The women were mostly in better shape, although some looked tired, maybe from being parents.

  A few couples began to dance immediately in the center of the floor. I saw a lot of handshakes and people introducing each other. Some couples mingled a little awkwardly. I guessed they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

  Name tags. The word popped into my head.

  There were supposed to be name tags for everyone. I glanced to the name tag table in front of the entrance. No one there. “Morgan.” I said her name out loud. Morgan was in charge of name tags.

  I trotted over to the food table. “Delia, have you seen Morgan? She isn’t at her table.”

  Before Delia could answer, the double doors swung open and Morgan strutted into the gym. Her coppery hair was down over her shoulders. Perfect. Her green eyes caught the light from the ceiling and sparkled. Her skin looked creamy and pale in the bright light.

  A thin smile spread over her face as she moved toward the center of the room. She made such an entrance—she was so stunningly beautiful—people stopped their conversations and turned to look at her.

  “Hello, everyone! Hello!” she screamed.

  More guests turned to watch her. For some reason, Frankie cut off the music. Voices murmured softly. Then a hush fell over the gym.

  “Hello, everyone!” Morgan cried, raising both arms to make sure she had everyone’s attention.

  What on earth is she doing? I asked myself. I clenched my fists at my sides. My whole body tensed.

  What is this about?

  “I brought some guests of my own!” Morgan shouted, her voice ringing off the gym walls. “Don’t worry. They don’t need name tags. They’re all DEAD!”

  She tossed back her head, her hair flowing down her back, and laughed, a crazy maniacal laugh.

  And then the doors pushed open once again—and her friends began to stagger and stumble in.

  Screams rang out as we saw their tattered clothes, their decayed bodies, gray faces with patches of skin missing, empty eye sockets. Bony hands, missing legs. Skeletal creatures, stumbling, falling to their bony knees, as if they hadn’t walked in a long time.

  One after another, a dozen, then a dozen more. And as the grunting, moaning creatures circled the gym, a horrible stench rose up. Sour and disgusting, the smell floated thickly over the room. The smell of rotting flesh, the smell of death.

  Gripped in horror, I couldn’t move. I stood trembling, my legs like rubber bands, my arms stretched in front of me like a shield. Screams all around me. The odor made my stomach churn. I tried to hold my breath, but the smell was already inside my nostrils.

  I opened my mouth, but the scream choked in my throat.

  And as the dead guests stumbled and staggered with their empty eye sockets, their grinning skeletal teeth, their missing arms and legs . . . As they circled us, trapping us in their odor, their hideousness, the horror of this scene of living dead . . . Morgan raised her arms in triumph and shouted over the screams:

  “Let’s party, everyone! Let’s party till we drop! Ha-ha. It’s a carnival. And the freak show has just begun. Who wants to dance with us? Who wants to dance with the DEAD?”

  52

  Delia Continues the Story

  For a few seconds, I could hear only the moans and animal grunts of Morgan’s dead guests. But then Frankie cranked up the music again.

  This is how we do it!

  This is how we do it!

  The words repeated like a chant. Freddy’s sound system was up so high, I could feel the floor vibrate under my shoes. Alums were screaming in horror, but the music completely drowned them out.

  A dead guy in shredded rags, one hand missing, grabbed Amber with his one bony hand. She tried to pull away, but the grinning skeleton was too strong for her. He started to dance a hobbled dance.

  Another dead creature wrapped his decayed arms around one of the alums and pressed his open, lipless mouth to hers. Dead people wrestled a guy to the floor while another one forced his wife to dance.

  A few alums were on their knees, throwing up against the gym wall. A bunch of them went hurtling to the double doors, but a line of eyeless dead people blocked their escape.

  Fights broke out. An alum punched a dead guy in the face, and the corpse’s whole head flew off and bounced over the floor. Headless, he grabbed the alum and they wrestled, punching and pummeling one another.

  This is how we do it.

  This is how we do it.

  The gym was a blur of horror. Wrestling, fighting, screaming, dancing. Zombies. Morgan had emptied the cemetery to bring her guest list, an ugly, stench-carrying crew of zombies.

  Why? Why did she do it? I thought I knew. Pure jealousy. She was beautiful but it didn’t matter. She was dead and everyone else was alive.

  I turned and searched for Julie. I finally found her huddled behind the food table. Zane had appeared. I didn’t remember if he was working at the party or not. But there he was. He and Julie were holding each other in a tight hug, their eyes on the madness, on the screaming, squealing terror.

  Gripped in shock, the screams and horrified cries ringing in my ears, I thought of Winks. Poor dead Winks. And then I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Ducking under
the grasp of a one-legged zombie, I broke through a crowd and grabbed Morgan by the shoulders. “Why?” I cried. “Why did you do this?”

  She made no attempt to free herself from my grasp. Instead, she brought her face close to my ear. “I’m Morgan Fear,” she said, her voice hard and cold.

  Then with a loud groan, she broke my grip. Her eyes flamed like green fire, and she grabbed my arm with both hands. Her hands felt cold and hard as steel as she jerked me hard, almost pulling me off my feet.

  She pulled my hands behind my back and shoved me hard. “Over here, Delia.”

  “Let go!” I screamed. “Hey—let go!”

  She was pulling me to the bleachers at the far end of the gym. “Hey—let go! Morgan—what are you going to do?”

  53

  Delia Continues

  I twisted and squirmed, but Morgan was too strong for me. I swung my head around and tried to bite her arm. But she lifted me off the floor and carried me to the back of the bleachers.

  “Let me go! What are you doing? Let me go!” My cries came out high and shrill, my voice cracking in terror.

  She shoved me behind the benches and slammed my back against the tile wall. “Morgan, stop—!” I pleaded.

  “Your turn, Delia honey,” she said, her green eyes as cold as ice, her voice low and hard. “You’ve asked for this, dear, and now it’s your turn.”

  “Asked for this?” I choked out. “Asked for what? Morgan, please—”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m so hungry, Delia. Soooo hungry.”

  Her eyes rolled up in her head. Her mouth opened wide, revealing long, pointed teeth. She lowered her head quickly.

  I gasped as her teeth sank deep into my shoulder. Her hands tightened their grip as the teeth pierced my skin. She began to suck.

  I held my breath. The wall was a yellow blur in my eyes.

  What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

  My only thought. The words repeated in my mind.

  What am I going to do?

  My whole body jolted as Morgan stopped abruptly and slid her teeth from my shoulder. The light appeared to dim in her eyes as she squinted at me.

  She made a sick gagging sound—and shoved me away, pushed me hard into the wall.

  Spitting, choking, she swept her hair back off her face. “Omigod! Delia, you—you—” she uttered.

  I knew what I had to do. I took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed myself off the wall. I spun away from her and forced my legs to move. My knees wanted to fold. My whole body wanted to collapse.

  I wanted to curl up on the floor, curl into a tight ball where I’d be safe and alone. But I knew what I had to do. I knew. I knew.

  The ceremonial Linden Vikings ax was propped in a corner beside the food table. I could see the yellow-and-blue handle tilting against the wall.

  I stumbled forward, legs still not wanting to cooperate. I swung both arms forward, prepared to grab the ax handle.

  “Delia—come back!” I heard Morgan’s harsh command. “Come back here!” in a bellowing voice that sent shivers down my body.

  I glanced back to see how close she was. She was running hard, her red hair flying behind her. “Come back, Delia!”

  I grabbed the ax handle with both hands. Gripped it tightly. Raised it off the floor. Heavier than I’d imagined. Heavier, the handle long and straight.

  I know what I have to do, Morgan.

  I know what I have to do.

  There’s only one way to kill you.

  She dove at me, mouth open in an angry roar, hands outstretched to grab me.

  I swung the ax, and Morgan screamed.

  54

  Delia Continues

  Morgan’s scream cut off as the ax blade sliced through her neck. No blood spurted out. She had no blood.

  People gasped and uttered horrified cries as her head flew high, across the gym, the red hair billowing behind it. A groan escaped Morgan’s open mouth.

  The head appeared to float for a long time, and then it dropped heavily to the gym floor, bounced twice, and came to a rest on its side.

  Around the room, the zombies began to murmur. They were all gaping at the head on the floor. They stood still for a long time, studying it, muttering to each other in ugly tones from deep in their empty bodies.

  Then, as if given a signal, they began to disintegrate. Staggering, stumbling, arms shaking at their sides, empty heads bowed, they fell apart, limb from limb. A terrifying thunder echoed through the gym as they cracked and crumbled into piles of dust. Piles of powdery dust, and all that remained was their stench.

  I suddenly realized the ax was still gripped tightly in my hands. I gazed at the shiny blade, gazed at it until it seemed to hypnotize me. The handle began to burn in my hands.

  What have I done?

  I let the ax fall to the floor. Then I dropped to my knees, lowered my head, and shut my eyes. But even with my eyes shut, I still saw that ax blade cutting through Morgan’s neck, saw the head go flying, uttering its last groan.

  When I finally raised my head, Julie was standing beside me. She had one hand placed on my trembling shoulder. “It’s okay, Delia,” she whispered. “She’s gone. The vampire is gone.”

  And then I saw Imhoff on my other side.

  “I . . . I can’t believe I did that,” I said to him, barely able to choke out the words. “I can’t believe I killed Morgan.”

  He knelt down beside me and spoke softly, his silvery eyes seeking mine. “You did the right thing, Delia. You didn’t kill a human. You must always remember that. You didn’t kill a human. You killed a vampire.”

  I gazed back at him. I didn’t know how to reply.

  “You saved a lot of lives,” Julie said.

  Imhoff nodded. “Yes. Delia, you saved a lot of lives.”

  I turned and saw that my friends had formed a tight circle around me. “Delia, you’re a hero,” Julie cried. “You’re a hero!”

  55

  DEAR DIARY,

  My emotions today are all over the place, and this is the only way I can get my head straight. Or maybe I never will.

  I’m like on a roller coaster. My feelings ride way up up up, and then come crashing down in a screaming heap. I feel ecstatic one minute, triumphant, a winner, on top of the world. The next minute I am filled with regret. Not just regret but hate, hatred of myself and what I did in the gym earlier tonight.

  But, Diary, did I have a choice?

  No. No choice. No choice at all.

  I knew I had to destroy Morgan the moment she sank her teeth into me, prepared to drink her fill, and realized I have no blood.

  The shock on her face was worth the whole trip.

  She gagged. She was sick when she realized what I was. What I am.

  She was sick because she knew I now had no choice. I had to kill her if I was to keep my secret.

  If only I’d known sooner that Morgan was the other vampire in Linden. I could have saved Winks—saved him for myself.

  I picked Winks out as soon as I arrived here in the fall. I made him feel that I was in love with him. I made everyone feel that I was in love with him. That I needed him. That poor, shy, quiet Delia had attached herself to the Big Guy and wouldn’t let go.

  Well . . . I didn’t want to let go. I was saving Winks for a special treat.

  But she spoiled my treat, Diary. Morgan got to him first. She drank half his sweet nectar before he ran out of his cousin’s house.

  He ran out of that house, into my waiting arms. And I only got half. I drank it so hungrily. The half of Winks’s blood that Morgan hadn’t consumed.

  It left me so hungry, Diary. So achingly hungry. A gnawing that wouldn’t stop. A gnawing that tortured my whole body.

  Feeding on the funeral director helped me for a few days. He was pretty old but his blood was still sweet and filling. So, yes, Diary, I killed Winks and the funeral man. It is my fate. Why should I go hungry?

  And look at me now. I’m a hero!

 
; I killed the vampire and saved everyone’s life. Ha.

  Everyone loves me now. Poor, quiet, little Delia saved everyone. Delia is a hero.

  So . . . I gave myself a little reward.

  That strange-looking guy—Cal Imhoff. Big-time vampire hunter with his dark suits and that white-blond hair and silvery eyes that don’t look real.

  The crazy dude offered to drive me home.

  I made him pull over a few blocks from my house. I told him I felt sick. Then I grabbed his head, pulled him down to me, and drank my fill.

  Sweet. Very sweet. The blood had a little spice to it, a little kick. I can still taste it on my lips.

  A hero deserves a reward, don’t you agree, Diary?

  Of course, I wouldn’t tell this to anyone else.

  You’re my best friend, Diary. My only best friend. My only real friend. Always remember that.

  Love,

  Delia

  About the Author

  R.L. STINE has more than 350 million English language books in print, plus international editions in 32 languages, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written other series, including Fear Street, Rotten School, Mostly Ghostly, The Nightmare Room, and Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and his Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Minnie. Visit him online at www.rlstine.com.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  Books by R.L. Stine

  Dangerous Girls

  Dangerous Girls #2: The Taste of Night

  Rotten School #1: The Big Blueberry Barf-Off!

  Rotten School #2: The Great Smelling Bee

  Rotten School #3: The Good, the Bad and the Very Slimy

  Rotten School #4: Lose, Team, Lose!

  Rotten School #5: Shake, Rattle, and Hurl!

  Rotten School #6: The Heinie Prize

  Rotten School #7: Dudes, the School Is Haunted!

  Rotten School #8: The Teacher from Heck

  Rotten School #9: Party Poopers

  Rotten School #10: The Rottenest Angel