Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)

I brought Zane home with me, planning to work on the drone in my garage. I thought maybe if I kept busy, you know, worked with my hands, did something physical, it would help me stop thinking about Winks for a little while.

But Zane is so hopeless when it comes to building anything mechanical, and the truth was, I really couldn’t work up the energy to do anything on the drone. Ever since Winks was killed, I’ve felt as if I have a heavy weight pushing me down, holding me down, keeping me from moving. From thinking or wanting to do anything at all.

I know I have to snap out of it and try to get back to normal. Mainly because I have no choice—I have to keep living. There’s nowhere to hide.

Pretty deep for me, huh?

Well, I’ve been thinking a lot. Mainly late at night when I can’t get to sleep, and I keep thinking about Winks and how he died, how someone or something punctured his neck and drank his blood.

Where can you hide when you’re living in a horror movie?

Anyway, we didn’t work on the drone. Zane and I ended up tossing a Frisbee back and forth in my backyard and tried to talk about everything else, everything but Winks.

“My dad has a job interview today,” I said. My throw went wide, and Zane had to chase it to the back fence.

“Where?” he called. He heaved a line drive at my chest, which I caught easily.

“The travel agency on Lafayette,” I said.

“But isn’t your dad some kind of engineer? Didn’t he work at the Ford plant?”

“The Ford plant moved to Mexico, remember? I think my dad just wants a job. You know. Anything that he can do.”

“I guess you won’t be having any more Ultimate Frisbee games,” Zane said, his voice suddenly so low I could barely hear him.

“You mean without Winks?”

No matter what we talked about, it always came back to Winks.

Zane jumped to catch a throw above his head. “Yeah.”

I shrugged. “I guess. I was thinking about trying out for the baseball team.”

Zane squinted at me. “Do we have a baseball team?”

I laughed. “It’s a well-kept secret. But yes, we have a baseball team. They aren’t any good, but at least no one ever goes to their games. So the embarrassment potential is very low.”

Zane laughed. The Frisbee toss was loosening us up. He’s not any kind of jock. In fact, he hates playing sports because he sucks at all sports. But he was enjoying the exercise, I think. Working off some tensions.

Then Delia showed up.

She wore a white V-neck tee over white tennis shorts. Her face was nearly as pale as her clothes. She walked across my backyard with her shoulders stooped. Her expression was sad, and her cheeks were red, as if she’d been crying.

Poor Delia. I realized that Winks wasn’t just a crush. She really was in love with him. And now he was gone, and she was walking slowly toward us like an old lady, her ringlets bobbing lifelessly at the sides of her head.

“Hey, what’s up?” I called.

She shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m bored or going crazy. Or maybe somewhere in between.”

Zane came running over, the Frisbee in his hand. “We all feel totally weird,” he said.

“I keep hearing noises,” Delia said. “I turn around thinking it will be Winks.” She sighed. “How crazy is that?”

“Crazy,” I said. “I guess . . . I guess it will take time for all of us.” I didn’t know what to say.

Delia took the Frisbee from Zane and turned it in her hand. “Did anyone hear anything from the police? Did you see any news?”

Zane and I shook our heads. “I haven’t seen anything.” I glanced at my phone. It was nearly five thirty. Mom’s car wasn’t in the drive. She was usually home before me.

“Delia, maybe you should come to my stand-up comedy thing next Friday,” Zane said.

Delia blinked in surprise. “You’re going ahead with it?”

Zane nodded. “Yeah. I changed my mind. I decided I can’t just sit around being depressed.” He lowered his gaze to the lawn. “Winks loved to laugh. I’m going to dedicate my act to him next Friday night.” He raised his eyes to her. “Want to come?”

Delia twisted her face up, thinking hard. “Maybe.”

I knew that meant no. She wasn’t ready to laugh at anything. And Zane’s act is so bad, it makes you want to cry! (Kidding.)

I glanced at my phone. Nearly a quarter to six. Where was Mom? She always came straight home after the kitchen at school was cleaned up.

I texted her. Waited for a reply. Nothing.

“Julie and Amber have been really terrific,” Delia said, spinning the Frisbee slowly in her hand. “So understanding.”

“That’s great,” I murmured, eyes on my phone.

“Even Morgan invited me over,” she said. “She said I could call her anytime I wanted to talk.”

I exchanged a glance with Zane. Why doesn’t Morgan invite ME over?

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Mom? No. A guy who sometimes played on our Ultimate Frisbee team. I didn’t take the call.

“Listen, guys,” I said, pocketing the phone. “I’m a little worried about my mom. She should be home by now.”

“Maybe she took your dad to his job interview,” Zane said.

“No. She wouldn’t do that. Or else, she’d leave me a note or something.” I started to the house to get the car keys. “I’m going to drive over to school and see if she’s still there. You guys want to come?”

Delia handed me the Frisbee. “I don’t think so. I’ve got to get home. I’m way behind . . . with everything. Catch you later.” She gave us a little wave, turned, and started down the driveway.

“I’ll go with you, Liam,” Zane said, following me to the house. “I’m not in a big hurry to get home. My mom is serving some kind of fish for dinner, and I hate fish.”

“Why would anyone eat fish?” I said.

So we drove to the high school. We have a hip-hop Pandora station in the car, and I cranked it up high, partly so we wouldn’t have to talk about Delia and Winks. And partly because I didn’t want Zane to see how tense I was about Mom not showing up or answering my texts.

I knew I was being crazy. She had every right to go shopping or visit someone or stay late at the school. I guess I was super tense because of what happened to Winks, and I couldn’t stop thinking that the killer was still out there. Who wouldn’t freak out after such a horrifying thing?

I parked in the student parking lot. No other cars in sight. Zane and I climbed out, and I jogged to the teachers’ lot on the other side of a tall chain-link fence.

“Isn’t that your mom’s car?” Zane asked, pointing.

The dark blue Jetta was parked against the fence. “Yeah. She’s still here,” I said. “Weird.”

Seeing the car should have calmed me down a bit, but it didn’t.

Zane and I went in the side door, followed the dimly lit hall, our shoes ringing loudly in the emptiness. Down the stairs to the lunchroom.

“No one here. Not even the janitors,” Zane murmured.

We were outside the double doors to the lunchroom. I pushed a door open and shouted. “Hey, Mom! Mom? It’s me!”

My voice echoed in the huge room. The chairs were all upside down on the tables. The janitors must have washed the floor.

“Hey, Mom—?”

Behind the long line of empty food tables, the light was on in the kitchen.

Zane followed me as I edged behind the food tables and stepped up to the open kitchen doors. “Hey, Mom—are you here?”

I stepped into the kitchen and nearly tripped over the body on the floor.

“No. Oh no,” I moaned. “Nooooooooooo.”