Cheerleaders: The New Evil (12 page)

Heather sat hunched over on the bench, her head resting in her hands, staring down at the floor. Kimmy sat beside her, her cheeks bright red, her black hair matted to her wet forehead.

At the end of the bench, facing the locker room door, Corky and Debra whispered their fears to each other. The room smelled of sweat. The air hung heavy and wet. Somewhere on the other side of the lockers, water dripped. A steady
drip, drip, drip.

“Since when do you chew your nails?” Debra whispered.

Corky lowered her hand. “I—I didn't realize I was doing it,” she confessed. She gazed down at her finger. To her surprise, she had chewed the skin beneath the nail until it bled.

“What a disgusting mess,” Debra murmured. “They'll never get the tar cleaned up. Does everyone blame us?”

“I don't know.” Corky's voice caught in her throat. She felt so disappointed, so guilty. This was supposed to be an exciting night. Not a night of horror.

The locker room door swung open, and Ms. Closter entered, her features set, her eyes narrowed. She wore her usual oversize white T-shirt over a pair of black leggings.

She stepped up to the cheerleaders, shaking her head. Corky saw that her eyes were watery and red
rimmed. “Miraculously not one person was seriously hurt,” she reported grimly.

Ivy let out a loud sob.

She's acting so upset, Corky thought suspiciously. Isn't she overdoing it a little?

“Do any of you know
anything
about this?” the adviser demanded, her eyes moving slowly down the row of girls. “Anything at all?”

“Ivy and I checked the cannons this evening,” Lauren offered, her arm around Ivy's trembling shoulders. “They were fine. They were filled with confetti.”

“Did any of you see
anyone
hanging around them before the game?” Ms. Closter asked. “Did anyone see anything suspicious at all?”

No one replied.

Corky lowered her eyes to the floor.

“This is a horrible, horrible prank that some sick individual played,” Ms. Closter said heatedly. “Some very sick individual. My guess is that someone on the Lions, or some Lions supporter, rigged the cannons as a practical joke.”

She sighed. “Some joke,” she muttered bitterly.

The locker room door swung open. The basketball coach stuck his head in. He was a young man, younger than Ms. Closter, but his brown hair was thinning on top. He was short, kind of chubby, with a round, friendly face.

He usually flashed a warm smile to everyone. But as Corky raised her eyes to the doorway, she saw that his expression was grim. “Obviously we can't finish the
game tonight,” he reported to Ms. Closter. “We're going to try to squeeze it in at noon tomorrow. Before the regularly scheduled game. If they can get the seats cleaned up.”

Ms. Closter nodded, her expression as grim as the coach's.

“Anybody see anyone messing with the cannons?” the coach asked her.

Ms. Closter shook her head. “We haven't a clue.”

Yes, we do, Corky thought bitterly. We
do
have a clue. It wasn't a little practical joke pulled by a Lions' supporter. I know that for sure, Corky told herself.

It was a trick played by an evil spirit hundreds of years old. An evil spirit that
we
called back.

And this evil spirit may be in this room right now, may even be sitting on this bench.

Corky jumped to her feet, unable to stop the chills that swept down her back one after another.

♦ ♦ ♦

She dreamed about the evil that night.

In the dream she couldn't see it, but she knew it was there.

She could sense it in the swirl of gray smoke that curled up in the strange, white-walled room where she stood. She backed up, frightened, alert to its presence, pressing her spine against the white wall.

The wall was cold. So cold.

The gray smoke curled around her.

Kimmy and Debra appeared in the room. They kept
yelling at Corky, yelling frantically. They pointed accusingly at her, the two of them, shouting and pointing their fingers together.

What are they saying? Corky wondered. Why are they pointing at me? Why can't I understand them?

Because it's a dream, she told herself.

And as soon as she realized she was dreaming, she woke up. Gazed around the dark room. Didn't know where she was.

It took Corky a few seconds to remember she was in a motel room in New Foster. Peering across the dark room, she could see Kimmy and Ivy in the double bed against the wall.

Pink and blue neon light from the sign out front spilled in through the window, onto their bed. Ivy snored lightly. Kimmy slept on the far edge of the bed, her back to Ivy.

Corky jumped when she heard the tap on the window.

Two taps. A pause. Then three taps, a little harder.

She realized at once that someone was out there. Someone was tapping on her window.

Her dream still fresh in her mind, Corky lowered her feet to the floor.

Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Whoever is tapping on the window is the
evil!

The evil has come for me
, Corky thought, feeling the goose bumps rise on both arms.
Whoever is tapping on the window is the evil!

I know it. I know it for sure.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap.
Even louder.

Corky took a deep breath. Then she crept to the window and peered out.

Who is it? Who's out there?

When she saw the face behind the glass, Corky let out a startled cry.

H
er heart pounding, Corky pulled up the window. “Alex—what are you doing here?” she whispered, unable to hide her shock.

He shrugged. He had a black and gray Raiders cap pulled over his blond hair. His Shadyside High jacket was unsnapped, revealing an olive-green pullover. The neon light fell over his face, making his grin appear eerie, unnatural.

“How did you get here?” Corky demanded, glancing back to make sure Ivy and Kimmy hadn't awakened.

“Walked,” he replied. His breath steamed up pink and blue in the strange light of the motel parking lot.

“All the way from your motel?” Corky sounded surprised. “Why?”

“I couldn't sleep,” he replied. “Come on out. It's not too cold.”

“Huh?” She stared out at him, studying his face, trying to decide what to do.

“Let's take a walk,” he urged. “A short walk. It's not too cold. Really. I—I'm just too pumped to sleep.”

A gust of cold wind fluttered the drapes. “But I'm not dressed!” Corky whispered.

Alex laughed. “Hurry. Just throw something on. It's nice out. Really.”

Corky backed away from the window. In the darkness, she pulled on a sweatshirt and the jeans she had worn earlier. If we get caught, we'll be in major trouble, she thought.

She grabbed her jacket, then stepped back to the window. She had a feeling that Alex would no longer be there, that he might have vanished, like her dream.

But there he was with his hands in his jacket pockets, staring up at the motel sign. When he saw Corky, he turned quickly and helped her out of the window. He held her waist tightly as she lowered herself to the ground.

“You're bad,” she whispered, flashing him a teasing grin.

“I'm totally wired,” he said. “There was no way I could get to sleep. I mean, the game was going so great. We were going to win. I could just feel it. I was so pumped!”

She placed a hand on his sleeve and led him away from the window. They made their way slowly around the side of the one-story green stucco motel.

“And then that thing with the cannons!” Alex continued, talking rapidly, excitedly. “What was
that
about? I mean, that was really weird!”

“It was horrible,” Corky muttered, leaning against him as they walked. “So totally gross.”

“And when I realized we couldn't play the second half, I—I just about freaked!” Alex continued. He shook his head. “I just couldn't calm down enough to get to sleep.”

He turned and slid his arms under her jacket, around her waist. His blue eyes locked on hers as he lowered his head to kiss her.

But Corky gently pushed him away. “Whoa. I want to talk first.”

His expression turned to one of surprise. “Talk? What about?”

“About you,” Corky replied, working up her courage. “How come you've been so weird lately?” It was time to have it out with him, Corky decided. It was time to hear the truth. If he wanted to break up with her, he shouldn't be calling her out of her room in the middle of the night, acting so romantic.

“Me? Weird?” he asked innocently. He pulled off the Raiders cap and scratched his head. Then he shoved the cap back on.

“You've been very strange lately,” Corky insisted. She squeezed his hand. “Showing up late. Or not showing up at all. Giving me lame excuses.” She
raised her eyes to his as if searching for answers there. “It's time to tell me the truth, Alex. What is your problem? What's going on?”

He took a step back, letting go of Corky's hand. “Okay, okay. You're right,” he replied solemnly. “I'll tell you. I guess I should've told you weeks ago. When it started. But—”

“When
what
started?” Corky demanded, feeling her throat tighten.

Alex hesitated. He avoided her stare. “I got a tutor,” he murmured.

Corky wasn't sure she had heard correctly. “You—what?”

“I had to get a tutor,” Alex repeated reluctantly. “A tutor for math. I'm supposed to be the class brain—right? But—well—I guess the pressure got to me or something. I got behind and couldn't catch up. So my parents got me a tutor. But it's embarrassing. Really. I didn't want anyone to know, so—”

Corky's mouth dropped open. “All those times I called, and you couldn't come to the phone? All those nights you didn't want to come over and study together?”

“It was because I had to go to my tutor,” Alex replied, still avoiding her eyes.

Corky felt like laughing out loud. But somehow she managed to hold it in. “I don't
believe
you!” she told him, rolling her eyes. “You are such an egotist! Did you really think kids would get on your case because—”

“Don't make fun of me,” he said sharply.

A truck roared by on the highway. The wind grew colder, damper. With a shiver, Corky took Alex's arm and they started walking again, circling the motel parking lot.

“You could've told me,” Corky scolded softly. “You know you can trust me, Alex.”

He stopped near the front of the building and turned to her. “I was just too embarrased, I guess,” he said. Then he pulled her close and kissed her.

His kiss was soft at first, then harder, hungrier.

He seems different, Corky thought. His kiss is different.

He suddenly seems so—needy.

Gripping her tightly, Alex backed Corky against the building as he pressed his mouth against hers.

Glancing over his shoulder, Corky saw a figure come into focus at the corner of the building.

Saw a familiar face. Staring at them.

Jay!

Why was he just standing there, staring like that?

As Corky gazed back at him, she saw Jay's eyes glow red, an angry, evil red. Animal eyes. Inhuman eyes.

Or was it just the glare from the neon sign?

Corky pushed Alex back. “Alex—look.” She started to point to Jay.

He was gone.

W
hen Corky and the other cheerleaders arrived at the arena at ten-thirty the next morning, the basketball players were already on the floor.

“Energy up! Energy up!” the coach was shouting. He made a sweeping motion with both hands. “Two laps for everyone! Let's go! Get those hearts beating!”

Several players groaned. But they all obediently began jogging along the sidelines.