Killer's Kiss (8 page)

Delia turned away and stepped into the room. The first things she saw were Karina's beautiful oil paintings, lined up against the wall. Then she saw Karina. Karina flashed Delia a quick smile.

Delia forced herself to smile back. Then she studied Karina's paintings. Each tiny canvas showed a garden. Pink roses. Yellow daisies. Purple lilacs. So beautiful Delia could almost smell them.

A surge of jealousy shot through her. Why did Karina have to be so good at everything?

“Are you ready, Miss Easton?”

Delia nodded. She didn't trust her voice not to shake. She carried her portfolio over to the judges. She placed it on the table and opened it.

Purple?

What was that smear of purple?

Streaks of deep purple over her drawing.

Delia gasped. A wave of panic froze her in place.

She forced herself to move. Holding her breath, she flipped through the drawings it had taken her so many months to complete.

Ruined. All ruined.

All smeared with purple.

Was it lipstick? Was it purple lipstick?

All of her fashion designs. All of her portraits. Smeared with purple.

A low cry escaped Delia's throat when she reached her self-portrait.

Dark purple lipstick blocked out the eyes. They stared blankly up at Delia. Two round purple circles.

The lipstick had been ground into the canvas. Gouging a hole in one spot.

Underneath the drawing, she read a message scrawled in purple: “HA HA. COULDN'T YOU JUST
DIE?”

Chapter

15

T
he judges stared at the smeared artwork.

“Delia, what has happened here?” one of them asked finally.

Delia's knees quivered. Her breath came hard.

“Can't you
see?”
she screamed. “Can't you see what someone has done to me?”

“But—how did this happen?” another judge demanded, shaking his head.

What did they want from her?

What could she tell them?

With a hoarse cry, Delia dropped the drawings and ran from the room. She could hear the startled judges calling after her. But she didn't stop.

She had taken only a few steps into the hall—when she crashed into Stewart.

“Hey, what happened? What's wrong?” he cried.

“My drawings! All ruined!” Delia choked out.

“Huh?”

Delia turned and ran toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Stewart yelled.

But Delia didn't slow down. She shoved open the door and flew down the steps. She rounded the corner—and skidded to a stop.

This can't be happening, she thought. This can't be happening again.

Karina stood at the end of the hall. Huddling close to Vincent.

Delia backed against the wall so that Karina and Vincent wouldn't notice her.

“I know I'm going to win. I just know it,” Karina was saying excitedly. “You should have seen the judges' faces when I showed them my paintings!”

Vincent leaned closer to Karina. He murmured something in her ear.

Karina's face glowed. She kissed Vincent's cheek.

Delia swallowed hard. It's true, she thought. Karina is a winner. She's standing there with Vincent. The judges love everything she's done for the Conklin Award. And they haven't even seen anything of mine.

Some truce, Delia thought.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Maybe I should drop out of the Conklin competition,” Delia moaned. She flopped down on the couch in Britty's living room.

“No way! You can't quit!” Britty protested. “You have to tell the judges that Karina is destroying your work.”

“But I don't know for sure that she is the one,” Delia replied.

“Of course you do!” Britty exclaimed. “Who else—?”

“I have no proof,” Delia insisted. “If I went to the judges and said that Karina wrecked my guitar and smeared all my drawings, why should they believe me? They'd throw me out of the competition.”

“You don't know that,” Britty told her. She moved to the arm of the couch. “A lot of people saw her attack you in the gym. And I heard her threaten you. I could talk to them.”

Delia sat up. She unbraided her hair and pulled it loose around her face. “Then what?” she demanded. “Karina gets kicked out of the competition—and everything is fine? That would never happen.” Delia sighed. “You know how crazy she is, Britty. If she is doing those horrible things, what would she do to me if I got her tossed out? She would come after me. She would find some way to hurt me.”

Britty chewed on a strand of her long hair. “There's only one thing we can do,” she said.

Delia narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What?” she asked, her voice dull.

“We have to kill Karina.”

Chapter

16

D
elia felt the blood drain from her face.

Britty's expression changed. “Hey—I was joking.” She grabbed Delia's arm and shook it. “Snap out of it. I was joking. Just trying to get that gloomy look off your face.”

“I'm not in a joking mood.” Delia sighed. “Besides, that was really sick.”

“I'm starving,” Britty declared. “I always get morbid when I'm starving.”

They made their way into the kitchen. Delia watched Britty bound around the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. She pulled out plates, a bag of taco chips, a jar of salsa, and a jar of
jalapeño peppers. She dumped them on the table. Then she grabbed some cheese and some black beans and rice from the fridge.

“At least the judges are giving me extra time to do some new drawings. And I already have some others I like almost as much as the ones I showed them,” Delia said.

“I'm worried about you,” Britty said. She deposited the rest of the food in front of Delia and plunked down in the chair across from her. She quickly opened the jars.

“A few weeks ago you never would have thought I was serious about killing Karina,” Britty said. She dipped a chip in the black beans and took a big bite.

“I know. But this is serious, Britty. Karina may be totally out of control. If she is doing those things to me, she might do something even worse. She might be totally crazy. I—I'm really frightened of her.”

Britty stuck another chip in her mouth. Salsa dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it away with one finger. “So let her win the Conklin. Everyone will know she had to cheat to get it.”

“What good does that do me? So some people will think I really deserved it.” Delia reached for a chip. “Don't you understand? If I don't win, I'll be stuck in Shadyside for the rest of my life.”

Delia let the chip fall to the table. “You're going
to Ohio State. Gabe is headed for Yale or some other great school. Even Vincent is going to college—and his grades are awful.”

Delia sighed again. “Don't you get it, Britty?” she asked. “I don't want to be left behind. If I never get to New York, I'll never become a fashion designer. And without Vincent …”

No, Delia told herself. I haven't lost Vincent yet. I know he cares about me. I'm not giving up. I have to talk to him.

She stood up. “I've got to talk to him, Britty. About us. And about Karina.” She headed toward the front door.

“You're going to see Vincent?” Britty cried, following her. “After what you saw today? After all the lies he told you? Why? Why do you want to talk to him? Let Karina have him. They deserve each other.”

“I can't.” Delia stopped at the door. She wished she could make Britty understand. But how could she? Britty had never cared about a guy the way Delia cared about Vincent.

“You're great, Delia,” Britty continued. “Lots of guys would love to go out with you. For example, Stewart or Gabe. Don't waste yourself on a loser.”

Delia yanked open the door. “I have to talk to Vincent. I have to give him a chance to explain.”

He'll have a good explanation, Delia told herself as she hurried to her car and slid into the driver's seat. I'll talk to him—and everything will be fine again.

Everything will be fine. She repeated the words over and over in her mind as she drove to Vincent's. She knew he would be home. Thursday was basketball night—and Vincent loved basketball. He would be in front of the TV.

Delia parked in the street in front of Vincent's house.

Everything will be fine, she repeated to herself. Fine. Fine …

But when she walked past the front window, she caught sight of someone sitting next to Vincent on the couch. A girl.

Karina?

No.

This girl had dark hair.

Delia's stomach clenched. Who is that?

She hurried to the front door and tried it. Unlocked. She slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind her.

The TV blared. Basketball crowd sounds. Delia tiptoed into the family room.

She squinted into the shadows.

Vincent and the girl were wrapped up together.

“Get away from her!” The cry burst from Delia's throat.

Vincent and the girl jerked apart. Vincent jumped off the couch and Delia stared down at the girl.

Her heart gave a hard thump against her ribs.

“Sarah!” she cried.

Chapter

17

“D
elia! Hi!” Vincent cleared his throat. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He licked his lips and darted a glance at Sarah.

Sarah didn't appear nervous. She didn't appear surprised. She looked smug.

“Sarah!” Delia repeated, blinking in shock. Trying to blink her sister away.

Is this a dream? A bad dream?

Is Sarah really here with Vincent?

Sarah stood up with her head high and her shoulders back. She straightened the black T-shirt she'd borrowed from Delia—without asking.

“Hey. How's it going?” Sarah strolled over to her sister.

What is different about Sarah?
Delia wondered.

It didn't take her long to see.

Her lips.

Sarah's lips glistened with a coat of Delia's purple Midnight Wine lipstick.

Sarah grinned. “What's up?”

Delia bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to give Sarah the satisfaction of an angry response. “Nothing much,” she uttered through clenched teeth.

She turned to Vincent and forced a smile. “Right?”

Vincent laughed. But it didn't sound anything like his usual laugh. “Sarah was just leaving,” he said. He grabbed Sarah's coat off the brown recliner in the corner.

The same place Delia always left hers.

Vincent tossed it at Sarah. “Your sister stopped over to—”

“I know exactly why she stopped over,” Delia said coldly.

Delia walked into the hall and opened the front door. She stood back, waiting for Sarah leave.

It didn't take her long. As Sarah passed by, Delia grabbed her arm. She leaned close to her sister. “You didn't think he would really choose you over me, did you? Even in my clothes and my makeup, you're nothing special.”