Give Me a K-I-L-L

by R. L. Stine

  Hernandez stopped the car as the girl neared the building door.

  Yes. Yes. It was definitely Gretchen. Her blond hair flying behind her, gleaming dully in the late afternoon sun.

  Yes it was Gretchen. And yes, that was a knife in her hand. A knife raised as if ready to attack.

  “No. Oh no,” Mrs. Page moaned.

  She and Hernandez reached for the door handles, intending to leap out of the car and stop her.

  Too late.

  Gretchen vanished into the mess hall.

  And instantly, they heard screams, shrill and frightened. High screams of terror ringing through the open windows. And the horrified shout of Coach Walker: “Stop! No—please! STOP!”

  45.

  Over the screams of the girls in the mess hall, Gretchen could hear the rapid thump of blood pulsing in her ears and feel the drumbeat of her heart in her chest. Fighting against her panic, she shoved open the mess hall door with her shoulder and burst into the long room.

  She blinked. In her panic, her eyes were playing tricks on her. The room was suddenly bathed in red. Blood red. Everyone at the long table in the center of the room shimmering red, as if soaked in blood.

  Blinking hard, she forced the real colors back, and as the blanket of red faded, she lurched toward them all, her eyes darting from one to the other. Their screams grew more shrill and desperate as she raised the knife. Waved it in front of her. Made sure that Sid saw the long blade.

  Sid saw her. His eyes were wide with surprise.

  He stood behind Devra with one arm around her chest, gripping her hard, holding her defenseless against him. And a knife in his other hand pressed against Devra’s pale throat.

  Devra’s eyes rolled crazily. Her hair was wild about her face. She couldn’t scream. The knife blade was too tight against her skin.

  “Drop it, Sid!” Gretchen screamed in a trembling shrill voice she’d never heard before. “Drop the knife! Let Devra go—now!”

  The other cheerleaders had jumped up from the table and backed away. They huddled against the wall.

  Coach Walker stood frozen at the other end of the table, her arms stretched out helplessly, as if pleading with Sid, her face stuck in an open-mouthed expression of pain and shock.

  Gretchen saw her mother burst into the room, followed by Principal Hernandez. How did they know there was trouble? They both froze at the door and didn’t come any closer.

  Gretchen took a step closer to Sid and Devra, waving the knife in her trembling hand. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought her chest might explode.

  “Drop it, Sid,” she repeated. “I’m serious. Let Devra go. I’ll cut you. I’m not afraid. I’ll cut you.”

  Sid pressed his knife blade against Devra’s throat. “It was supposed to be Devra,” he shouted, his voice ringing with anger. “It was supposed to be Devra—not Stacy. Devra was supposed to burn.”

  Gretchen gasped. “It was you, Sid? You deliberately poured the kerosene on the baton?”

  “It was supposed to be Devra!” he screamed. “Not Stacy. I didn’t want to burn Stacy. Devra was supposed to burn!” His voice cracked. He tightened his grip around Devra, who slumped as if defeated, sank against him, stopped struggling to escape.

  Sid slid the blade against Devra’s throat. Girls screamed as a thin trickle of bright blood appeared on her neck.

  Devra let out a whispered moan. “Oh, please … It hurts.…”

  “Don’t do it! Don’t cut her, Sid!” Gretchen cried. She took another step closer, gripping the knife handle so tightly her hand throbbed with pain.

  I’ve got to keep him talking, Gretchen thought. It’s the only way. If I can keep him talking, maybe I can stop him from killing her.

  “Why, Sid? Why does Devra have to die?”

  “She knows! She knows!” The words exploded from his mouth.

  Blood trickled down Devra’s neck. Sid kept the blade pressed against her skin.

  Against the wall, Shannon and Ana were sobbing, their faces covered by their hands.

  “I did everything … everything to ruin Devra. To make everyone hate her. I … I had to ruin her … the way she ruined my family.”

  Gretchen kept the knife poised. “What do you mean, Sid? What are you saying?”

  “I … I did everything,” Sid repeated. His eyes were glassy, seemed far away. He was in his own world now. Talking more to himself than to Gretchen and the others. “I stole her phone and sent those threatening text messages to you. I put the drain cleaner in your water bottle and stuffed the cockroaches in your new uniform. I … I put on Devra’s perfume and attacked you in the gym. I had to ruin Devra. I had to show Devra I could be in charge. I had to pay her back. I wanted everyone to hate Devra as much as I do.”

  “But, why, Sid? Why?”

  “She knows! She knows!” he screamed, eyes wild, face bright red now. “Devra and I … I thought we had a connection. We were going out. Stacy didn’t know anything. Devra and I … I thought we had a good thing. I really did. I thought we had something real. And then…”

  His jaw tightened. A low growl escaped his throat. He pressed the blade tighter against Devra’s neck.

  “Don’t kill her! Sid—you don’t want to kill her!” Coach Walker shouted, finally finding her voice.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” He spit the words at her. “She killed my family. She ruined my life. I thought Devra and I were close—really close—but then … then … My dad, he worked at Dalby’s. In the shoe department. He was a good salesman. And he was a loyal worker. He always talked about what a good department store it was and how he enjoyed his job.”

  He stopped, his chest heaving. He took a deep breath, as if it was too much for him to tell. His eyes were wild. They wouldn’t rest on any spot. Large drops of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks.

  “Devra had my dad fired,” he finally continued his story, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. “She reported him to the manager. She said he was rude to a customer, and she had him fired. We were going out, Devra and I. I thought we were serious. I thought it was a real thing. And she had my dad fired. Don’t you see? I didn’t mean anything to her. Nothing at all.”

  He jerked Devra hard, spinning her to the side.

  “It broke my dad,” he said, his voice cracking again. “My dad was never the same. And neither was my family. She ruined my family. Ruined everything. She was supposed to burn. Not Stacy. Not Stacy. Devra was supposed to burn.”

  “No!” Gretchen screamed. “Sid—don’t!”

  I’ve got to keep him talking. It’s the only chance.

  “What about Madison?” Gretchen cried. “Sid—what about Madison? Do you know who killed Madison?”

  He blinked. “Who killed Madison? I did. I did, of course.”

  Gretchen gasped. Loud sobs rang out beneath the low rafters. Gretchen’s whole body tingled. The knife trembled in her hand. It wasn’t the answer she had expected.

  She liked Sid so much. And now she was learning she didn’t know him at all. He was a murderer. A murderer. She trusted him. She opened herself to him. And he was a murderer.

  “Why, Sid? Why did you kill her?”

  “She had a video on her phone. She didn’t even know she had it. But she found it. A video at the football game. It showed me wiping kerosene on the fire baton. It showed me. So clearly. Madison had the video. And she said she was taking it to Hernandez.”

  He nodded to the principal. Hernandez and Mrs. Page still hadn’t moved. They stood frozen at the mess hall doorway.

  A sob escaped Gretchen’s throat. She nearly dropped the knife. “Oh my God, Sid. I don’t believe … I just can’t believe you killed Madison.”

  He sneered at her. “What choice did I have?” He jerked Devra hard again. “Was I supposed to let her show the video to Hernandez? To the police? Enough talk. Devra has to die now. She was supposed to burn—not Stacy. Not Stacy!”

  His eyes rolled crazily in his head. Spit flew from his mouth with every w
ord. “It was supposed to be Devra! Devra—not Stacy!”

  “Let me go!” Devra found her voice. Her plea came out in a high-pitched shriek. “Let me go! Let me go!”

  She made a sick gagging sound as Sid slowly slid the blade across her neck.

  46.

  Against the wall, girls screamed. Courtney dropped to her knees. Becka and Shannon hugged one another. Ana kept her hands covering her face.

  Devra uttered a long groan. Sid loosened his hold on her, the knife still raised, and she sank to her knees.

  Gretchen felt a surge of energy. The room went red again. Before she realized it, she was diving forward, stumbling, almost staggering toward Sid. She let out an angry roar, a cry like a hurt animal.

  All that betrayal … all of the cruel jokes Sid had played on her … the cockroaches … the threatening texts … the acid in her garage … his lies … all the while, pretending to care about her.

  Later, Gretchen would think about how she had been used, how he had entrapped her in his insane desire for revenge.

  But now, she felt only fury, a fury that made the room go blood red, that pushed her forward, that forced her to scream like an enraged beast. She tossed away her knife, lowered her shoulder, and barreled into Sid.

  He saw her coming, but he didn’t react fast enough. She drove her elbow into his midsection, and the knife dropped from his hand. He groaned and tried to back away from her. But Gretchen drove a fist hard under his chin.

  She heard a cracking sound—the sound of his neck breaking? His head snapped back. His eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open in pain and shock. He fell backward, fell hard, smashing the back of his head against the wooden table edge as he went down.

  Sid crumpled to the floor, his legs splayed at an odd angle, his head tilted, eyes shut. Gretchen stood over him, every muscle tensed, breathing noisily, expecting him to climb to his feet.

  But he didn’t move.

  She turned and saw that Devra had crawled to Coach Walker. Walker had wrapped a dish towel around Devra’s throat. “She’ll be okay,” Walker shouted to everyone. “The cut isn’t deep.”

  The other cheerleaders gathered around Devra and Coach Walker. They all began talking at once.

  Principal Hernandez was down on his knees, shaking Sid gently, trying to wake him. “He’s breathing. Can anyone call 911?” he demanded. “Does anyone have cell service?”

  Gretchen’s mom rushed forward and wrapped Gretchen in a hug. Tears had swollen her cheeks and Gretchen could feel her fluttering heartbeats as they hugged.

  “You’re okay,” Mrs. Page kept repeating. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  Gretchen swung away from her mother and hurried over to Coach Walker, who wrapped a fresh towel over Devra’s cut. “You’re not in any trouble, Devra,” the coach assured her. “The bleeding has almost stopped. There might be a tiny scar.…”

  Gretchen knelt beside Devra. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Really. I’m so sorry.”

  Devra blinked. “Sorry?”

  “For acting like such a jerk,” Gretchen said. “For accusing you of everything. For blaming you for all the terrible things that happened. All the horrible things that Sid did. I’m so sorry.”

  Devra narrowed her eyes at Gretchen. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. You just saved my life!”

  Gretchen stared at her, her mind spinning. “Hey, I did—didn’t I?”

  Despite the horror, both girls broke out laughing.

  * * *

  “A surprise party?” Gretchen said into the phone. “When?” She listened to Courtney’s answer. “Ana is having a Sweet 17 party?”

  “She was away for her sixteenth,” Courtney explained. “She says she was cheated. So she’s doing it this year. Only she doesn’t know it. We’re going to throw a surprise party for her.”

  “Awesome,” Gretchen said. “Can’t wait. How are you going to surprise her?”

  Before Courtney could answer, Mrs. Page entered Gretchen’s room. “Who are you talking to?” she demanded.

  “Got to go,” Gretchen told Courtney. “My mom is here.” She clicked off the call. “That was Courtney,” she told her mother.

  Mrs. Page couldn’t hide her relief. “Nice. Sorry to interrupt.” She squinted hard at Gretchen. “You feel okay? No problems from … from what happened?”

  Gretchen raised her fist and squeezed it. “My hand still hurts from punching Sid.”

  “Otherwise you’re okay?” her mother demanded. “I talked to Dr. Knoller. She said you seemed fine when she talked with you this morning. But she said it would be understandable if you felt a little in shock, or if you felt emotional or stressed about what you went through.”

  Gretchen sighed. “Please, Mom. Give it a rest. I’m okay. Really. Physically and mentally. Please believe me.”

  “You don’t have to snap at me,” Mrs. Page said. “I’m just trying to show some concern. That’s all.” She started to the door. “Would you like eggs for lunch?”

  “That would be nice,” Gretchen said. “Thanks.”

  She listened to her mother’s footsteps going downstairs. For a long moment, she sat against the headboard of her bed, staring at the morning sunlight out the twin bedroom windows. A bright fall day. And she felt bright, too. She felt light as air, as if her problems had been solved, as if all her worries were in the past.

  She heard a ping. From her phone. At first, she didn’t recognize the sound. Then she remembered: a text message.

  She picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.

  And read the message:

  YOU KILLED ME, GRETCHEN. BUT I’M NOT GOING AWAY. BFF. Polly

  Also by R. L. Stine

  SERIES

  Goosebumps

  Fear Street

  Mostly Ghostly

  The Nightmare Room

  Rotten School

  INDIVIDUAL TITLES

  It’s the First Day of School … Forever!

  A Midsummer Night’s Scream

  Young Scrooge

  Red Rain

  Eye Candy

  The Sitter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  R. L. STINE is one of the bestselling children’s authors in history. His Goosebumps and Fear Street series for young people have more than 400 million books in print and have been translated into thirty-five languages. Other popular children’s book series include Mostly Ghostly, The Nightmare Room, and Rotten School.

  R. L.’s anthology TV series, R. L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour, won an Emmy Award as Best Children’s Show. His Goosebumps series is the basis for a feature film of the same name, starring Jack Black as R. L. Stine himself. Stine says that he is proud to have frightened several generations of young people, and he is delighted to be back on Fear Street to deliver even more scares.

  R. L. Stine lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, an editor and publisher. You can sign up for email updates here.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 23.

  Chapter 24.

  Chapter 25.

  Chapter 26.

  Chapter 27.

  Chapter 28.

  Chapter 29.

  Chapter 30.

  Chapter 31.

  Chapter 32.

  Chapter 33.

  Chapter 3
4.

  Chapter 35.

  Chapter 36.

  Chapter 37.

  Chapter 38.

  Chapter 39.

  Chapter 40.

  Chapter 41.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 42.

  Chapter 43.

  Chapter 44.

  Chapter 45.

  Chapter 46.

  Also by R. L. Stine

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

  An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

  GIVE ME A K-I-L-L. Copyright © 2017 by Parachute Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.thomasdunnebooks.com

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Danielle Christopher

  Cover illustration by Shane Rebenschield/Shannon Associates

  Cover photographs: head © Aleshyn Andrei/Shutterstock.com; gym floor © J. Helgason/Shutterstock.com

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-05896-6 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-250-14352-5 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)

  ISBN 978-1-250-11698-7 (e-book)

  e-ISBN 9781250116987

  Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

  First U.S. Edition: April 2017

  First International Edition: April 2017