The Third Evil (9 page)

Corky closed her eyes.

“Three.”

Corky felt the pressure on her shoulder as Hannah
pushed off for her jump. She saw Kimmy step forward.

Corky opened her eyes in time to see Kimmy catch Hannah easily.

Smiling happily, Hannah bounced to the floor, clapping.

The pyramid collapsed. Corky jumped down, feeling another shiver of dizziness.

Everyone was cheering and congratulating Hannah.

Miss Green, usually somber faced, was smiling too. “Take a five-minute break!” she called.

Corky began to make her way to the water fountain in the hall.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up to see Kimmy staring at her, concerned.

“Are you okay?” Kimmy repeated.

“Yeah, I guess,” Corky replied unsteadily. I don't want a confrontation now, she thought. I can't handle a confrontation with Kimmy now. “I'm okay.”

Kimmy stared at her coldly, her eyes glowing. “Good,” she said. “I'm glad. I think some people are in for a surprise tonight—don't you?”

“This skirt is so wrinkled,” Kimmy said, holding the maroon and white cheerleader skirt up in front of her. “Think anyone brought an iron?”

Corky, brushing her hair in front of her dresser mirror, raised her eyes to examine Kimmy in the mirror. “It doesn't look so bad.”

Hannah was in the shower. Corky could hear her humming to herself over the steady rush of water.

Shaking her head, Kimmy pulled the skirt on. “We're late,” she said, adjusting the bottom of her sweater over the skirt. “We're all late.”

“I'm almost ready,” Corky replied, setting down the hairbrush.

“What do you think is for dinner?” Kimmy asked, fluffing her black hair with both hands. “Hope it isn't chili. After dinner last night I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds—I could barely get off the floor.”

“Yeah, I know,” Corky replied, reaching for her lip gloss.

“I'm going down,” Kimmy said, taking one last look at herself in the mirror, adjusting her skirt. “Meet you in the dining hall, okay?”

“Okay,” Corky told her. “I'll only be a minute.”

Kimmy hurried out. As the door slammed behind her, the bathroom door opened, and Hannah stepped out, surrounded by warm steam, wrapped in a large maroon bath towel, her newly short black hair wet and dripping.

“We're going to win tonight,” she said enthusiastically. “I just know it With Blair gone, the Bulldogs are out of it.” She sat down on the bed and began rubbing her hair with the towel.

“Blair won't be cheering tonight?” Corky asked, having trouble clasping her watch on her wrist.

“No. Didn't you hear?” Hannah replied from under the bath towel. “She went home. She had ten stitches on her lip, and she's got to have dental surgery.”

“Too bad,” Corky said softly. She stood up and stretched.

Hannah dropped the towel, pulled on her underwear,
then sat back down on the bed to put on her maroon uniform socks. Her back was to Corky.

“With Blair out of the way, we
have
to win!” Hannah declared.

Corky quickly pulled open her top drawer. Her hand fumbled through the T-shirts inside until she found the scissors.

Wrapping her hand around the handle, she lifted the scissors from the drawer.

Hannah was still talking excitedly about the competition, her back to Corky.

Raising the scissors like a knife, Corky took a step toward Hannah.

This is my chance to finish what I started, Corky thought.

Silently she made her way across the floor and stopped behind her unsuspecting roommate.

No more teasing, Corky thought. No more fooling around. This is it.

Goodbye, Hannah.

I can't say it's been a pleasure knowing you.

As Hannah leaned forward on the edge of the bed to pick up her other sock from the floor, Corky brought the scissor blade down quickly, aiming for the tender spot between Hannah's shoulder blades.

Y
ou're dead, Hannah. You're
dead!

The door swung open.

“Would you believe I forgot the pom-poms again?” Kimmy said, hurrying in breathlessly.

Corky let the scissors drop to the carpet and quickly kicked them under Hannah's bed.

Hannah spun around, surprised to find Corky so close behind her.

Feeling her face grow hot, Corky stepped back to her bed. A strong wave of nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. She held her breath, forcing it down.

Her head spun. She saw brilliant red lights. The entire room flashed, red then black, red then black.

Still struggling to fight down her nausea, she turned to Kimmy, who was searching the front closet. “I think you shoved the box over here, by our bed,” Corky said, pointing.

“Thanks.” Kimmy hurried over and picked up the carton. “Hey—aren't you two ready yet? What's taking so long?”

“I'll be ready in two seconds,” Hannah said, pulling on her skirt.

“I…I don't feel so hot,” Corky said weakly.

“Huh?” Kimmy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Really,” Corky insisted. “My stomach. I don't feel right.” She dropped down onto the edge of her bed.

The room flashed red then black, red then black.

She had a roaring in her ears, like a rushing waterfall. The back of her neck felt prickly and hot.

“You're not coming to dinner?” Kimmy asked shrilly.

“I'll be down as soon as I feel better,” Corky told her. “Tell Miss Green, okay?”

Another wave of nausea sent her running to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and gripped the sink with both hands. The porcelain felt cool under her hot, wet hands.

Her entire body convulsed in a powerful tremor.

Red then black. Red then black.

She shut her eyes, but the flashing colors continued on her eyelids.

The roar in her ears grew louder.

She thought she heard laughter, evil laughter, somewhere far away.

Suddenly the sink became scalding hot and, with a cry more of shock than of pain, she jerked her hands away.

Steam rose from the empty sink, putrid and thick, smelling of mold and decay. The porcelain shimmered
and melted from the heat as she gaped in disbelief at it.

A hideous, low, gurgling sound rose from the drain, growing louder and louder until it became a moan.

Corky turned and ran. She burst out of the bathroom and threw herself down on Hannah's bed.

The room was empty. Hannah and Kimmy were gone.

I nearly killed Hannah, Corky realized. I nearly murdered her.

And then the horrifying words pushed their way into her consciousness:

I am the evil one now.

Cold Fear

B
ack in Shadyside, Corky could barely remember the last days of camp. Everything was a blur since she had discovered the awful truth. This Saturday afternoon found Corky in her room.

“Corky, what are you doing?” Her mother's concerned voice called through the closed door.

“Just resting,” Corky called back, raising her head from the pillow. Dressed in faded jeans and a sleeveless yellow T-shirt, she had thrown herself onto her bed after lunch. Thoughts washed about in her head like unruly ocean waves—strange thoughts, thoughts that weren't entirely her own.

“Are you sick?” her mother called in. “It's not like you to rest on a Saturday afternoon.”

“I'm just tired,” Corky replied impatiently. “You know…from cheerleader camp.”

She listened to her mother pad down the stairs. Then she buried her head deep in the pillow, trying to drown out the roaring in her ears.

Cheerleader camp. What a dreadful week.

She stayed in her dorm room after she had made her horrifying discovery. She told everyone she was sick.

What choice did she have?

She couldn't go to any of the workshops or practices; she couldn't perform in the evening competitions. She was too afraid she might hurt someone.

Or worse.

She had stayed in bed when Kimmy or Hannah were in the room. She tried to talk to them as little as possible.

Miss Green got a doctor to come examine Corky. But, of course, he found nothing wrong.

Nothing wrong. What a laugh, she thought bitterly.

Sometimes the evil force faded a little. Sometimes it let her think clearly. Sometimes it gave her just enough time to herself to become afraid, truly afraid.

And then the roar, the endless roar would return, and her memories would leave her. And she would move in a world of deep red and darker black, and not remember.

Not remember anything at all.

Except the fear.

Lying on top of her bedcovers, tossing uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the ancient evil, she remembered everything now.

So clearly. Too clearly.

She remembered sitting in the coffeeshop with the other girls, making the pea soup spurt up over the table.

Why? Because they had teased her. And just because she
could.

She remembered reaching out across the gym, reaching, reaching to trip Blair O'Connell. What a pleasing sight that was. And what a pleasing sound. That
crack.
That
crunch.
The sound of her face hitting the floor, her teeth breaking.

How satisfying, the shimmering red blood that flowed from her wounded mouth.

And there was more. More!

She remembered getting up in the early hours of morning, the sky still heavy with night. She remembered creeping to the desk drawer and silently removing her scissors. She remembered working carefully to cut off Hannah's disgusting black braid. She remembered the soft, nearly silent
snip snip
as she moved the blade through the thick hair. And she remembered placing the severed braid neatly on top of Hannah's covers so she would see it the moment she woke up.

That was fun.

But later her fun had been interrupted.

Kimmy burst in to spoil her fun, spoil her chance to murder Hannah.

That had made her so angry the roar had drowned out all her thoughts. She had disappeared inside herself, somewhere far away.

And now…now…

Corky sat up, uttering a low cry.

She suddenly understood the dreams, the dreams about Bobbi.

She suddenly understood what Bobbi had been trying to tell her in those sickening, awful dreams.

When Bobbi had opened her skull and pointed to the horrors inside, Bobbi was telling Corky:
Look inside your own head. Look inside yourself. The horror is inside YOU!

“Now I understand, Bobbi,” Corky said out loud.

And as she said this, her bed rose. She grabbed the covers as the bed began to writhe and toss like a bus on a bumpy road.

No. Oh no. Please—nooooo.

The foot of the bed bucked as if trying to throw her off. Then the covers began to roll over her, the bed trembling and shaking.