Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)

Saturday morning, I kept waking up every hour on the hour. But I pulled the bedspread over my head, curled up tight, and kept forcing myself to go back to sleep.

Every time I woke up, I thought about Julie. In the back of my mind, I’d always suspected she and I would end up together. I guess the reason I never did anything about it was that I just accepted that one day it would happen.

Does that make sense?

Nothing was making sense in my jumbled-up brain.

At eleven, my phone ringtone made me sit up, instantly alert. I grabbed the phone off the bedside table and, blinking away any lingering sleepiness, gazed at the screen.

“Morgan?”

“Hey, Zane. How you doing?”

I stifled a yawn and, sitting on the edge of the bed, stretched my back. “Not bad.”

Why is Morgan calling me on a Saturday morning?

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry I missed your stand-up act last night,” she said. “How’d it go?”

“It didn’t,” I replied. “I canceled it.”

“You didn’t do it?”

“I couldn’t,” I said. “I don’t feel funny. I . . . couldn’t write any new jokes, and . . . I just knew it was too soon. You know.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “No one feels funny. How could you? With someone killing people you know.”

“That weird Imhoff guy showed up last night,” I said. “At Julie’s.”

“You were at Julie’s?”

Do I hear a tiny bit of jealousy in Morgan’s voice? Is she interested in me now . . . now that Winks is gone?

I pictured her face. So awesomely beautiful. So perfect.

And then I thought about Julie. Julie and me, together now as we should be.

Morgan . . . Julie . . .

“Imhoff was all bandaged and weird because of Liam smashing that skillet into his face,” I said.

“Why did the police let him go? He’s the murderer, right?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t understand—”

“Well, what did he want?” Morgan’s voice suddenly sounded sharp. Suspicious.

“At first we thought he’d come to tell us about another murder. But we were wrong. He just wanted information. About the murder that happened while he was in custody. I mean, he asked us a bunch of questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like did we see anything? Did we hear anything? Did we hear any rumors at school? Did we have any hunches about who did the murders?”

Morgan snickered. “Hunches? You mean he was desperate?”

“Yeah. Desperate,” I said. “I don’t think he has a clue.”

A pause. Then she said, “He can’t be a real vampire hunter, can he?”

“Maybe he is,” I replied. “He seemed totally serious about it. He said he’s going around asking everyone if they have any idea at all.”

“Why does he think it’s someone at school?” Morgan demanded. “It’s probably a stranger, right? Probably someone no one knows.”

I had to think about that. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“I mean, we don’t have a vampire walking around in the halls at Linden High, do we?” Morgan laughed again. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well . . .”

“This crazy dude is wasting his time questioning us,” Morgan said, becoming more heated. “If there really is a vampire, shouldn’t he be able to get the vampire’s DNA from the victims’ bodies?”

“You’ve been watching too many Forensic Files,” I said. I could hear my parents arguing about something downstairs. Maybe they were upset that I was sleeping so late.

I glanced at the clock. So, okay. I slept through my tennis lesson. But what’s the big deal?

“Actually, he asked about you,” I said.

“Huh? Me? What about me?”

“He asked if we knew anything about you. Like where you came from and where you used to go to school. And how long did you know Winks. And did you know Liam’s mother. He had a bunch of questions about you, Morgan.”

She laughed. “Now we know he’s totally clueless. I’m not a vampire, Zane. I’m a werewolf.”

We both laughed.

“But only under the full moon,” Morgan added. “Next time you see Imhoff, you should tell him that.”

We both laughed some more. “I’d better go,” I said.

“Zane, can I ask you a favor?” Morgan said.

So this is why she called?

“I have a bunch of stuff I have to bring up from the basement,” she said, “and I’m all alone here. Think you could come help me?”

She said it kind of teasingly. I mean, she actually made it sound sexy.

Could anyone resist that beautiful face?

She is so totally hot.

“Yeah. Sure,” I said. “Let me grab some breakfast, and I’ll come over in an hour or so.”

“Oh, thank you, Zane. You’re a real sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

I pulled on a pair of long cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt, and made my way downstairs. Mom and Dad were just on their way out to go grocery shopping.

“We thought you were going to sleep all day,” Dad said.

“How are you feeling?” Mom’s eyes studied me up and down. “Those shorts are too wrinkled to wear outside.”

“I’ll unwrinkle them,” I said. “I’m feeling a little better.”

Dad studied me, too. “You didn’t do your stand-up thing last night?”

I shook my head. “I called Martin. He totally understood.”

Mom nodded sympathetically. “It’ll take time, Zane. Just give it time.”

Dad pushed open the screen door. “Anything we can get you to cheer you up?”

I thought hard. “Just the usual.”

The door closed behind them. A few seconds later, I heard their car start up.

I grabbed a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of apple juice. Then I checked out my shorts in the mirror. They looked okay to me.

I hurried over to Morgan’s house. I think she’d been waiting for me because she greeted me at the front door as I walked up her front lawn.

She wore a sleeveless blue tee over red short-shorts. Her hair was tied behind her head in a single ponytail. She looked so amazing, my breath caught in my throat. I actually stopped breathing for a second!

“Hey, thanks for coming,” she called. She came running down the lawn, ponytail bouncing behind her, those green eyes shining in the midday sunlight, and gave me a hug.

The hug lasted longer than a normal hug. I mean, it wasn’t just a hug of greeting. She took my hand and, clasping it hard, led me into the front entryway of her house.

“So you’ve got stuff in your basement?” I said. My voice sounded muffled, kind of breathless. I was, like, under her spell. She was too awesome to be real.

“We’re just moving in,” she said, still holding my hand. “There’s a lot of cleaning out to do.”

“Well, lead the way,” I said.

But she didn’t lead the way; instead, she backed me up against the entryway wall. She pushed me gently with both hands. Then she slid her hands around my waist, brought her face close to mine, and kissed me.

Her lips pushed hard against mine, so hard it hurt. She kept her eyes wide-open. They burned into mine as her mouth pressed against me.

Her hands gripped me tightly. My heart was pounding so hard, I felt as if I had a bird in my chest, fluttering its wings to get out.

Fluttering . . . Fluttering . . .

I knew I was in some kind of fog . . . a white mist that circled me . . . something unreal that played with my mind. Her lips were real. Her kiss was real. But I felt myself falling into a silent whirlwind.

And then she raised her head. Her mouth opened wide. Her eyes glowed like green fire.

“I can’t hold back any longer.”

That’s what I think she said. I felt close to her and far away at the same time. No way to catch my balance. I stared into the bright mist, waiting for her lips again.

“I can’t hold back any longer.”

I didn’t get her lips. I got her teeth. I saw them pull up, long white teeth. She gripped me by the shoulders and pressed me against the wall.

She lowered her head, eyes glowing, mouth open hungrily.

Was I imagining it? Her face began to change. Her cheeks appeared to sag. Her whole face appeared to melt, her eyes sinking deep into their sockets.

Nooooo. I am hallucinating. This is crazy. This isn’t happening.

Then I felt her teeth . . . felt them slide against my neck . . . tickling . . . tickling . . . just before she plunged them into my throat.