Delia applauded mechanically as Stewart pulled his pet beagle out of a top hat.
Britty giggled. “How did he get the dog in there in the first place?”
“How should I know?” Delia mumbled. She crossed her legs again.
“Relax,” Britty ordered.
“Great advice,” Delia said, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to my stomach.” She uncrossed her legs again.
Delia held her hands up in front of Britty. “My palms are sweating. My hands are shaking. There’s no way I’m going to be able to play the guitar. And how am I ever going to be able to sing my song?”
Britty started to chew on a strand of her long hair. “Stop it, okay? You’re making me nervous!” she exclaimed.
Delia scraped her wet palms against her black skirt. Then she reached for her purse and pulled out a little mirror.
She checked her Midnight Wine lipstick—for about the millionth time. She straightened her brightly colored brocade vest. She tugged down the sleeves of her white blouse.
If only she didn’t have to go last.
I wish I could fast-forward my life, she thought.
“Abracadabra!” Stewart whipped away the silk cloth he had draped over his hand. A red-and-yellow parrot perched on his fingers.
Delia applauded along with the rest of the audience. About thirty or forty kids had stayed after school to watch the talent competition.
He’s good, Delia thought. He pulls off some great tricks. But his act isn’t too original.
Karina has a better voice. She’s going to score much higher. But if the judges give me some points for writing my own song, I have a shot at winning the talent section, Delia decided.
“Where did he get a parrot?” Britty laughed.
Stewart bowed and everyone applauded some more. Then he collected his props from around the stage. He appeared relieved as he carried them off.
Delia’s stomach tightened. Closer. The big moment was getting closer. Only one more number to sit through. She wondered how she’d ever get through it—especially since it was Karina’s.
“I wish Vincent could be here,” Delia said. “But he said his mom was making him take his little brother to the dentist. Can you believe it?”
“Well, I’m here to cheer you on,” Britty reminded her. “And Gabe is right backstage. He promised that you’ll look great under the lights he set up for your song.”
Two boys rolled a massive grand piano onto the stage. “Karina’s piano,” Britty explained. “I heard she had it shipped from her house especially for today.”
Delia shook her head. This gets worse and worse every second, she thought. An older woman sat down at the piano and started playing scales.
“Karina’s voice coach,” Britty announced.
Delia gripped the arms of her seat and gazed at Karina. She sat in the front row, and appeared calm and cool. And blond and beautiful.
As if she could feel Delia’s eyes on her, Karina turned. Her lips started to pull back in a sneer. Then she must have remembered the judges. She smiled brightly and waved.
“What a phony,” Delia muttered to Britty.
Delia thought about what had happened last week. How Karina had caught her eavesdropping. How Karina had threatened her.
Since then, she had passed Karina in the halls several times. And every time Karina acted so sweet, it made Delia’s stomach ache.
The judges called Karina’s name. Delia watched her stand and make her way up to the stage.
“Same dress she wore to homecoming,” Britty muttered.
Yeah, Delia thought. The same beautiful dress. Blue satin that clung to Karina’s slender figure.
Karina glided to the center of the stage. She introduced her song. Her voice sounded steady and confident. Then she stepped back while her accompanist played the introduction.
When Karina started to sing, everybody in the auditorium sat spellbound. “Wow!” Britty breathed.
Karina didn’t just have a good voice. She had a fabulous voice—clear and pure. Even though Delia didn’t understand one word of the Italian song Karina sang, she knew it was a love song. A beautiful love song.
Beautiful. Just like Karina.
Trying hard to appear casual, Delia turned in her seat. She had to see the judges’ reactions. The three judges sat at the side, smiling as they stared up at the stage.
As Delia turned back, she noticed someone staring at her from down the row. She leaned forward, craning her neck to see past Britty.
“Sarah?” she whispered. “What is Sarah doing here?”
“Shh!” Britty nudged her in the side.
“But why would Sarah …?”
“She’s your kid sister,” Britty whispered. “Of course she’s here. She wants to see how you do.”
“Right.” That proved Britty didn’t know Sarah too well. “Any normal sister would want to see how I do. But Sarah isn’t normal, remember?”
“Shh.” The girl sitting in front of Delia turned around and raised a finger to her lips.
Embarrassed, Delia sank back in her seat. Then she stared down the row again.
Her sister was staring hard at her. And she had the strangest smile on her lips.
A pleased smile.
Is she happy that Karina is doing so well? Delia wondered. Did Sarah come here to see me lose?
Why is she smiling like that?
Delia’s thoughts snapped away from Sarah when the audience burst into applause. Applause that went on and on. She blinked and stared up at the stage. Karina smiled graciously.
Delia didn’t wait to see any more. She couldn’t stand it.
Before the judges called her name, she jumped out of her seat. She made her way backstage and grabbed her guitar case.
Gabe came hurrying over from the light control panel. “You’re going to do great,” he whispered in her ear. Then he trotted back to his post.
Delia watched the boys roll the piano off the stage. They set a tall stool in its place. She sucked in a deep breath, and forced herself to let it out slowly.
You have to pretend this is no big deal, she told herself.
“Delia Easton?” one of the judges called.
I’ll pretend I’m at home, singing for Britty and Gabe. And Vincent, she thought. I really wish Vincent were here.
Delia held her head high and strolled out onstage. “For today’s talent competition, I’ve written an original song,” she said into the microphone.
She could barely see into the dark auditorium. But as she searched for the judges’ faces, Delia’s gaze fell on Karina. She had returned to her seat in the first row. Stewart sat beside her.
Don’t let her get to you, Delia told herself. She gave Karina a smile. “It’s a song about a boy and a girl and how much they mean to each other. It’s called ‘Vincent.’”
Delia set her guitar case on top of the stool. She turned her back to the audience and unsnapped the clasps.
She flipped open the lid.
Stared down at the guitar.
And started to scream.
Chapter
11
The strings.
The strings. They had all been cut.
Cut in half.
They hung over the bridge of the guitar.
And the scrawled words glowed up at Delia.
Words scribbled in wet red paint across her guitar: HA HA.
Delia’s scream caught in her throat. She gaped at the guitar. Blinked. Blinked again. As if trying to erase the picture.
As if trying to force the ugly sight away. And return the guitar to normal.
“Ohhh.” She uttered a low moan as her eyes stopped at the hole in the center of the guitar.
What was that stuffed in the hole? Crumpled gray rags?
No.
No. No. No!
A rat. A decomposing rat. Its head jammed inside the guitar. Its pink tail and scrawny legs poking straight up.
“Nooooo!” Delia’s hands shot up to her face. She bump
ed the guitar case. The guitar toppled out. Hit the stage floor.
The rat bounced out—and dropped with a soft plop on Delia’s shoe.
She kicked it away. The tattered gray body sailed only a foot or two. The sunken rat eyes stared up at her accusingly.
Suddenly feeling sick, Delia sank to her knees on the stage.
Now she could see the rat more clearly. See the mangy patches where its hair had fallen out. See the strips of skin peeling away from its body. See the dried blood caked on its back.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. But the sound wasn’t enough to block out the sounds she heard from the audience.
Startled cries. Screams. Gasps of surprise. Murmured confusion.
Footsteps thudded toward her. Then Gabe gently pulled her to her feet and helped her off the stage.
Britty ran over to them. “Delia! What happened? Are you all right?”
Delia didn’t answer. She stared at the front row. Karina hadn’t moved. Her lips were parted. Her eyes wide. She appeared so innocent. Little Miss Innocent.
Delia uttered a screech of fury and hurtled over to Karina. “How could you?” Delia’s voice shook. Her body trembled.
She pictured the rat jammed into her guitar hole, the scrawled HA HA. She glared at Karina. “How could you?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Karina demanded calmly.
“I know you did it!” Delia shrieked.
Karina shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know what—”
“That innocent act isn’t going to work on me. You did this!” Delia cried.
“That’s enough, girls.” A stern-faced judge stepped between them. “We’ll find out what happened—and we’ll deal with it.”
Karina stood up and met Delia’s gaze. “I don’t need any tricks,” she said softly. “Not to beat you.” She walked away without another word.
Delia watched Karina stride up the aisle. To Delia’s surprise, Karina stopped at Sarah’s seat. She smiled at Sarah—then leaned close to speak to her.
Sarah nodded. Then, without looking at Delia, she stood up and walked out of the auditorium with Karina.
“I don’t believe it.” Delia gasped. “Karina and my sister?”
She turned to the stage—and caught a glimpse of Stewart in the wings. Was he smiling? Was that a grin on his face?
She squinted hard. She couldn’t see him well in the shadows.
“I’m just gathering up my props,” he called. He walked over and crouched down on the edge of the stage so he could talk to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Delia mumbled. “I’m fine. It—it was just such a shock. I couldn’t believe someone would—”
“Are they going to let you make up the talent section?” he interrupted.
“Of course they will! They have to! Somebody deliberately kept her from performing!” Gabe exploded.
Stewart held up his hands. “Stupid question,” he admitted. “It’s just the first thing I would ask if the same thing happened to me.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Britty said impatiently.
“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “We can get a soda or something while we wait to hear what the judges want you to do.”
Delia wrapped her arms around herself as they headed outside. But that didn’t stop the chills from running through her body.
“I guess Karina meant it when she said she would do anything to win,” Britty said softly.
Gabe wrapped his arm around Delia’s shoulders. “We’re your official bodyguards from now on,” Gabe joked.
“Definitely,” Britty said. “Where you go, we go. At least until the Conklin Award is given out.”
“I think Karina wants more than that,” Delia told her friends. “She wants the award. And Vincent. And everything I have. Everything. She wants my life!”
Her friends tried to comfort her. But Delia could barely hear their soothing words.
Once again, she pictured the cut guitar strings.
The decaying rat stuffed in the guitar hole, its scrawny legs poking out.
Once again, she pictured Karina’s face. So innocent.
So phony.
What am I going to do? Delia asked herself.
What can I do?
Chapter
12
Delia pulled the red Jetta into her driveway. She couldn’t wait to take a long, hot bath—with her favorite jasmine bath oil. And then crawl into bed and take a long nap.
She didn’t want to think anymore—about anything. Not about Karina. Or about having to perform her song for the judges next week.
If only she could stop picturing her ruined guitar, the cut strings, the disgusting, decaying rat with its eyes sunken in its head.
Who is the real rat? Delia wondered.
Who is the rat who did that to me?
Was it Karina? Would she really go that far to win?
Delia picked up her purse and climbed out of the car. A light snow had fallen during the talent contest. She carefully made her way over the slick surface to the front door.
“Hey!”
A note. Taped to the storm door, with her name written on the front in big red letters.
It’s from Vincent! she saw. She recognized his handwriting immediately.
Delia tore off the note and unfolded it. “I know you were awesome,” she read out loud. “I wish I could have been there. Let’s celebrate tonight. How about Red Heat?”
Wow. Red Heat was the hottest dance club in Shadyside.
Suddenly Delia didn’t feel the least bit tired.
But what should I wear? she thought.
My black suede miniskirt, she decided. With the black suede fringed vest over my purple lace bodysuit. And those funky red platform shoes I found at the thrift store.
Perfect.
But Britty had borrowed her black skirt a few weeks ago and hadn’t returned it yet.
Delia turned around and headed back to her car. It wouldn’t take long to drive over to Britty’s house in North Hills.
She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. Then she backed down the driveway and headed for Britty’s house.
As she drove, she forced the ugly thoughts from her mind. And thought only about Vincent. And about spending a night at Red Heat with him.
Delia parked in front of Britty’s and hurried up the front walk. She rang the bell.
A few seconds later Britty answered the door in a chocolate-stained apron. White cake flour streaked her honey-blond hair.
Delia burst out laughing. “What are you doing? Aren’t you and Gabe supposed to be studying history?”
“Well, we’re kind of baking chocolate chip cookies instead,” Britty admitted. She led Delia into the kitchen.
Gabe grinned at her, his cheeks dusted with flour.
“What did you do—take a bath in cookie dough?” Delia cried.
“Uh, we had a flour fight,” Gabe confessed.
“You weren’t supposed to see,” Britty said. She stepped in front of the kitchen table, as if she could keep Delia from noticing the bowls and measuring cups and ingredients scattered everywhere.
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Gabe added. He glanced at Delia and blushed. “For you.”
Delia shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
“We wanted to make you feel better,” Britty explained. “After everything that happened to day …” She scratched her nose and left a white circle of flour on it. “We thought cookies might cheer you up.”
A lump formed in Delia’s throat. Such good friends.
“You guys!” Delia hugged them both. “That’s so sweet of you!” Then she added bitterly, “But the only thing that will make me feel better is getting even with Karina.”
“Oh, come on,” Britty patted Delia’s arm, smearing flour on her blouse. “Chocolate chips help everything.”
“Yeah!” Gabe agreed. “They will even help you do great on your second singing audition.” The oven timer chimed. He grabbed
a pot holder and dragged out a steaming cookie sheet.
“Wow. Does that smell great?” He used a spatula to lift the cookies onto a plate.
“Delia, you aren’t really thinking about trying to get revenge on Karina, are you?” Gabe asked. His expression turned solemn. “If you do, you’ll be just like her. You’re too good for that.”
Gabe blew on a cookie and then tasted it. “Ow. Hot!”
“Besides, it would be dangerous,” Britty chimed in. “Karina is really out of control.”
“Britty is right,” Gabe said. “Stay as far away from her as you can. Leave her completely alone.”
Delia sighed. “You’re right. I don’t even know that she was the one who ruined my guitar.”
“Have a cookie,” Gabe said. “Cookies solve all problems.”
♦ ♦ ♦
On the drive home, Delia thought about what her friends had said.
They were right. And she knew it.
She had to stay calm. She couldn’t start acting crazy like Karina.
Tonight I’m going to forget everything but having fun, she decided. She glanced over at the bag on the seat next to her. The one with her black suede miniskirt in it.
Tonight I won’t worry about the Conklin Award, or college, or anything else that will ruin my mood.
And that definitely included Karina!
Delia turned the corner onto Park Drive—and gasped.
Karina!
She stood just past the corner beside a tall guy. A tall guy with wavy brown hair. Vincent!
Vincent leaned close, his head almost touching Karina’s.
Delia slowed down to study them.
They stopped. Karina wrapped her arms around Vincent.
“No!” Delia cried.
She watched them kiss. A long, slow kiss.
With an angry cry, Delia slammed her foot down on the brake pedal—and missed.
She hit the accelerator.
“Nooooo!”
She spun the wheel hard as the car skidded out of control.
It hit an icy patch—and slid sideways over the snowy street.
Delia’s head whirled.
She hit another patch of ice. The car spun again.
She gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting for control. The car picked up speed as it moved downhill.