The Prom Queen (15 page)

All the way on the other side of the theater, in the darkness of the wings, somebody was wrestling with Dawn!

“Dawn!” I yelled.

I started to run toward them.

Dawn and the man were fighting desperately now. Both figures a blur in the shadows. But I could see that the man had on a baseball cap and a maroon baseball jacket.

“Stop!”
I screamed.

As I gaped at them, my mind went into over-drive.
Who is it? I wondered. Who is fighting with Dawn?

The man was too slight to be Lucas. I remember thinking as I ran, “Justin?”

And then I saw a flash of steel.

He had a knife!

Dawn gasped as she saw it too. She and her attacker were locked together now, like some strange kind of statue. Both had their eyes on the knife. Dawn was trying to hold the man's hand back. With all his might the man was trying to bring his hand down.

The man was winning. His hand was slowly coming down toward Dawn.

Closer.

Closer.

The tip of the knife drew closer and closer to Dawn.

“No!” I screamed and raced forward.

And fell flat on my face.

I had tripped over a thick black lighting cable. I smacked down hard on the floor, the wood coming up to meet my head and cheek with the force of a baseball bat.

My head throbbing, I climbed dizzily to my feet.

Just then Dawn screamed again.

The killer had won. He had brought the knife all the way down and buried it in Dawn's chest.

I was too late. Dawn's grip on the killer's arm slowly relaxed. She collapsed to the floor and lay in an unmoving heap.

The killer stood there a moment, looking down at Dawn. Then he turned toward me. His eyes locked with mine. And then he stepped out of the shadows.

He was still holding the knife. It was stained with blood now.

Dawn's blood.

He stepped quickly toward me as I backed up on the brightly lit stage.

I finally saw who it was.

“S
imone!” I gasped. “But we thought—”

“You thought I was dead,” Simone sneered. “Sure—you all were
eager
to think I was dead, weren't you?”

“No—I—”

“But I couldn't afford to be dead, Lizzy. I had too much to do.”

I scuttled back across the stage. She followed me.

“I staged my own disappearance,” Simone said, her eyes flashing, her mouth twisted in anger. “I staged the whole thing. I knew my parents wouldn't care if I disappeared. And you want to know why? Because nobody cares about me. Nobody!”

“That's not true—” I began.

“Shut up!” she cried, cutting me off. She raised the bloodied knife, menacing me with it.

“My parents never cared about me. All they cared about were their golf scores and their martinis. Justin didn't care, either. He just used me. Nobody cared. Nobody.”

I kept moving backward. “I don't understand,” I managed to say. “Why kill the prom queens? I mean, it's not like you ever really wanted—”

Simone laughed scornfully. She took off her baseball cap and dramatically tossed back her long, dark hair.

“Prom queens?” she said. “Who
cares
about that? How stupid can you be? I'm not killing the prom queens. I'm killing everyone who betrayed me, everyone who sneaked out with Justin.”

“But, Simone—” I began.

“Give up, Lizzy,” she said. “You can't talk your way out of this one.”

I had backed up all the way across the stage. I was about to step back into the stage-left wing. I didn't want to step into the darkness. But I had no choice. Simone was still coming toward me.

“I tried to make him care about me,” Simone said, whipping back her hair with a violent toss of her head. “When I couldn't, I decided to punish him, to make him feel the pain I was feeling—by killing every girl he sneaked out with. I think he's figured out what's going on. At least, I hope so.”

Simone laughed. “Wearing Justin's baseball jacket with my hair tucked into this cap, I looked just
like one of the guys. Don't you think? You walked right past me at the movies and didn't even recognize me!”

“But where have you been hiding?” I asked, desperately trying to keep Simone talking.

“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.

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.