The Prom Queen (2 page)

“Elana Potter!” Mr. Sewall announced next.

More applause. Elana stood up with a big smile and walked bouncily up the aisle. She didn't look surprised at all. No wonder. She was one of the most popular girls at Shadyside, as she well knew.

Two more to go. I peered into the back of the hall, where Dawn and Rachel were sitting. I knew Dawn must be freaking. She was probably angry that she hadn't been announced first, even if Mr. Sewall was going by the alphabet.

“Dawn Rodgers!”

Dawn gave a whoop and clapped her hands. She wasn't the only one clapping. In fact, she was getting the most applause so far.

She pumped her fist in the air as she headed toward the stage. That got another round of applause. It was the gesture she always used after she scored an important point in a tennis match. Dawn was the girls' team captain.

“And last but not least”—Mr. Sewall glanced at the card—“Rachel West!”

Dawn was a hard act to follow. The applause for Rachel was less than thunderous. I did what I could and clapped until my palms hurt.

Rachel didn't seem to mind that she didn't get the most applause. She was smiling and blushing almost the color of her red hair as she joined me onstage.

“Now, as you all know, the prom is fast approaching—just five weeks away,” the Muppet continued.

Dawn clapped her hands and enthusiastically cried, “All right!”

“But what you seniors don't know,” said the Muppet, “is that as a special treat, I've been able to rent the newly refurbished Halsey Manor House.”

He waited for applause. It never came. We all knew the Halsey Manor House was right in the middle of the Fear Street woods—the place where the murdered Stacy had just been found.

He went on, “That should make for quite a party, don't you think?”

The Fear Street woods. Right then it didn't sound like a place I'd want to go, much less go dancing.

Maybe by the end of May it would seem like a good place for the prom. Maybe, but I doubted it.

As Mr. Sewall went on with his speech, I glanced at the other girls onstage. I knew these girls so well that I bet I knew what each one of them was thinking.

It was a game I liked to play sometimes. Mr. Meade,
my English teacher the year before, had taught it to us. He said it was a good game for writers to play. I hadn't written much besides long letters to Kevin in Alabama. But I wanted to write someday.

I started with Simone. Simone was the star of our drama club, and she looked the part. She was tall, dark, and, well, dramatic looking. She was also very insecure, which I guess showed she was meant to be an actress!

She was crazy about her boyfriend, Justin. And more than a little bit possessive. In fact, she was staring at him right then. I could tell by following her gaze out into the audience.

I decided what she was thinking was: Who is Justin talking to? And why isn't he paying attention to me?

Next I focused on Elana. Elana was very pretty in a delicate, old-fashioned way, and she knew how to dress to bring it out. Right then, for instance, she had on a white frilly blouse and a dark green wraparound skirt. She was smiling, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. She was like someone you'd see on a TV commercial.

Everything came easily to Elana. Always had. She got straight A's without seeming to, and her family had oodles of money, so she got whatever she wanted. She was so happy and friendly, though, that it was hard to hold it against her.

What was she thinking right then? Boy, being
nominated sure is fun. Maybe someday I'll be nominated President of the United States!

When I made contact with Dawn, she nodded at me, her blue eyes gleaming. I stared at her for a moment, admiring her tan.

We'd been going through our usual end-of-April rainy spell. But Dawn always had a tan, no matter what the weather. Her long, wavy blond hair gleamed shiny and golden, as if she'd been out in the sun for hours.

She probably had. Dawn was an ace at tennis and at every other sport. Including boys.

I knew what she was thinking. It was in her eyes. I'm going to win!

“Now,” the Muppet was saying, “I know each of you would love to be elected prom queen. And this year there's even more reason to want to win—the queen will receive a special three-thousand-dollar scholarship, donated by Gary Brandt's father at Brandt Chevrolet.”

As he made this announcement, I happened to be looking to my left—at Rachel. I could see her emerald eyes light up when he made that announcement. It was like in a cartoon when dollar signs appear in somebody's eyes. The money would mean a lot to Rachel, I knew. Hey, I wouldn't have minded three thousand dollars myself.

As I've already mentioned, Rachel's family was kind of poor, at least compared to the rest of ours. Rachel was the only kid I knew who
had
to work
after school. It got her frustrated because it took time away from her schoolwork, and her grades were suffering as a result. She said she might not be able to go to college.

I'd often thought that was why she was so shy—feeling as if she wasn't as good as the rest of us. She didn't even know how pretty she was.

Mr. Sewall's next words brought me back to the present. “School dismissed!”

There was the usual end-of-the-day pandemonium. People were shouting congratulations to me and the other nominees. Before I could get off the stage, Dawn grabbed me by the arm.

“I'm going to win,” she whispered fiercely in my ear. “I can just feel it.”

I smiled at her. Over the years I'd gotten used to Dawn's competitive boasting. It was as if she thought life was a game, and she had to psych everyone out so she'd win.

As I was going down the stage steps, Simone brushed past me and almost knocked me over. I watched as she made her way through the crowd toward Justin.

She seemed pretty angry. And Justin had an embarrassed grin on his face.

“Uh, Lizzy?”

It was Rachel. With that quiet voice of hers, I almost didn't hear her. “Do you want to come over and study tonight?” she asked.

“I'd like to,” I said genuinely. “But my parents
told me this morning they want me home early and they don't want me going out after dark.”

I'm an only child. Maybe that's why my mom and dad have always been so overprotective. But this time I didn't mind it. With a killer on the loose, being overly protected sounded just great.

I could still see Simone arguing heatedly with Justin. Amazing. How much trouble could he get into during one assembly? Justin uttered an exasperated cry, threw his hands up in the air, and hurried out.

“I can't believe I was nominated,” Rachel said.

“Why not?” I replied. “You deserve it.”

“I know,” she cracked. “I just didn't know anyone
else
knew!”

I laughed as Elana walked up to us. Her perfect little apple cheeks were flushed red with excitement; she resembled a porcelain doll.

“It's time to celebrate,” she said. “How about we all go to Pete's Pizza? I'm driving. I've got the Mercedes today!”

Rachel flashed a broad smile. She always got a thrill at being included in any group outing.

“Way to go, Elana!” Brad Coleman said, clapping her on the back as he hurried past. Anything for a chance to touch her, I thought.

Smiling a perfect smile, Elana called back her thanks. She tossed her short blond hair. “Simone!”

Simone was about twenty yards away, an unhappy scowl on her face. “I can't believe it,” she
grumbled, walking over to us. “During the assembly I saw Justin coming on to Meg Dalton. If he goes out with her behind my back, I'll kill him.”

It's funny. That silly threat was the first thing that flashed through my mind two days later when we learned that Simone had disappeared.

“T
his is so cool!” Elana yelled over the noise of the car radio, which was cranked up all the way. “I mean, trying to guess which of us will be prom queen.”

We had all piled into Elana's parents' silver Mercedes and were headed for Pete's Pizza. I was in the backseat between Rachel and Simone. Dawn was in the front, changing the radio stations non-stop.

“Dawn, turn that down!” screeched Simone, staring into a green folder in her lap. “I'm trying to learn my lines.”

For the drama club's spring production, Robbie Barron was directing
The Sound of Music.
The show would be performed on the Friday night of prom weekend, to kick off our spring festival.

Simone was playing Maria Von Trapp, of course. She always was the star. Even though she didn't make a very convincing nun.

Dawn clicked off the radio and said, “You're right, Elana, one of us is going to be prom queen, but I'm the only one who knows who. Me.”

Simone leaned forward. “You'll win for humility, that's for sure,” she said sarcastically.

“
If
I wanted to win a humility contest, I
could
win it,” Dawn said. “No one can beat me at anything.”

I glanced at Rachel, and she rolled her eyes.

Elana pulled into the Division Street Mall and glided into a parking space near the restaurant. “Lock up,” she told us, hopping out.

“Sure,” muttered Rachel as she got out of the car. “We wouldn't want the car to be stolen. It'd be at least a day before her dad could buy another one.

I laughed quietly. I didn't know how else to react to Rachel's bitterness.

I had to admit I was feeling good. Really happy. But then Rachel brought up the murder again.

The restaurant was packed. We had trouble finding a table for five. When we found one, way in the back, it took hours for a waitress to appear to take our order.

The pizza had finally arrived and we were grabbing for slices when Rachel said, “What if the mayor gives us an early curfew because of the killer?”

Everyone groaned. “Seriously,” Rachel insisted. “What if we can't have the prom because of that dead girl—Stacy?”

“Gee, Rachel,” Dawn said, “you were criticizing me for not being sensitive. I mean, a girl gets murdered, and all you can think about is the prom.”

Rachel blushed. “That's not what I meant,” she muttered. “I mean, I— Oh, never mind.”

Simone had a thoughtful expression on her face. I asked her what she was thinking.

“About my parents,” she replied, frowning. Here I'm the star of this play, and I bet they won't come to see me.” She dropped her pizza slice onto her plate. “When I tell them about being a prom queen candidate, they won't even say a word.”

“Simone,” I chided her. “You know they care. They're just busy, that's all.”

“The only thing I keep thinking about is this killer. Isn't there anything we can do to protect ourselves from this psychopath?” Elana asked, obsessing about the killer.

I said, “Maybe we could all disguise ourselves as guys.”

Simone immediately took up my idea. She lowered her voice. “Hey, there aren't any young high school girls here, Mr. Serial Killer,” she growled. “You must have the wrong house.”

She rubbed her nose roughly like a guy would and coughed as if to spit. By then we were all laughing. Whenever I thought Simone was too
self-centered to bother with, she acted funny. And then I forgave her.

“You know what?” Dawn said. “I don't think I'm going to sleep so hot tonight, either.”

“You'll sleep better than I will,” Rachel told her. “I'm the one who lives on Fear Street—remember?”

Just then two hands closed around her neck.

“Gotcha,” a male voice said.

It was Gideon Miller, Rachel's boyfriend.

“Not funny!” Rachel cried, but she smiled up at him anyway.

“Were you girls talking about me?” Gideon asked, grinning.

“No. Actually,” said Dawn, “we were talking about the killer.”

“That's cheerful,” Gideon said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Hey—is Rachel going to win the three thousand dollars?” he asked and put his hands on her shoulders.

“What do you care?” Rachel asked. “If I win, you don't think I'd share it with you—do you? Even you aren't
that
egotistical.”

Gideon laughed. “Ooh—big word. Big word! Have you been studying your vocabulary list today?” He waved to the guys he was with, who were waiting for him just inside the glass doors. “No, I just thought if you won, maybe you'd take me to a movie or something.”

“Maybe,” Rachel teased.

“Gotta go,” Gideon said. He gave Rachel's shoulders a squeeze and headed off to join his friends.

“What were we talking about?” Simone asked, pulling all the pepperoni off her slice and stuffing it into her mouth.

“The killer,” Rachel replied, her eyes following Gideon.

“Please—” Elana wiped her mouth primly with a napkin—“enough talking about this killer business. I mean it.”