This book made available by the Internet Archive.

  Prologue

  *WeV6 number one!" *We're number one!" 'WeVe number one!"

  In the darkened room, the participants in the regional summer cheerleading camp flickered across the television screen. Scream teams from colleges all over the state did splits, flips, pyramids, jumps. They clapped their hands and stomped their feet and chanted enthusiastically.

  And through it all they kept smiling and making it look easy. That was the most important part of all. To keep smiling. To make it always look easy.

  The remote control clicked.

  Freeze frame.

  Yes. There they were. The Salem junior varsity, distinctive in their red-and-white uni-

  forms. They were all smiling. They were all making it look easy.

  But I knew it wasn't.

  I knew the horrible truth of what hod happened to them.

  I must have moved. With a faint rustling, the tattered pom-pom in my lap fell to thefhor.

  Bending and picking it up, I stroked the nigged strands gently, gently. In the flickering light from the screen, the dark stains on the red heart of the pom-pom h
  But by the light of day, I knew, they were the color of blood.

  I clicked the remote again.

  Forward.

  Freeze frame.

  I lifted the pom-pom. Breathed softly, softly on the blood-soaked heart of it as if inhaling the scent of some fatal fUmer.

  I caressed the deliciously death-stained strands delicately.

  Had the Salem junior varsity cheerleaders been smiling when they died?

  Would the new scream team make death look easy?

  I clicked the remote one last time.

  The screen went dark.

  Freeze frame ...

  forever.

  Chapter 1

  «T>

  Fm dying," Delle Arlen gasped, clutching her throat. She staggered. Lurched sideways. Dropped heavily to her hands and knees.

  A dark shadow fell across the grass in front of her.

  A voice above her spoke.

  "Get up!" the voice rasped harshly.

  The girl in the baggy white shorts and the skintight T-shirt turned her head to one side to stare out of the comer of her eyes at the figure towering above her.

  Anyone could see that Delle was pretty. Beautiful, in fact.

  But right now her face was red, her eyes glazed. She was obviously more familiar with fun than with pain.

  "Get up or give up," the voice said. "Do you hear me?"

  Delle got to her knees. Forced herself un-

  steadily to her feet to face the cheerleading coach. "I hear you," she said. "And Fm not a quitter."

  Turning on her heel, she began to run.

  Far ahead of her, other figures straggled around the track in the first light of dawn. Although it was early, the heat ah-eady shimmered up off the cinders. It was going to be another scorching day. Unusually hot for early fall in that part of the country.

  Regrettably hot for early fall for that particular time and place.

  Because it was the first day of cheerleading tryouts at Salem University.

  The coach walked back to the bleachers and sat down to watch the cheerleading hopefuls circle the track. It was, of course, too early to tell anything about any of the candidates yet. They'd just arrived the night before. She'd posted a training schedule at Abbey House, the dorm they'd come to from all over campus, to stay for the week of tryouts. But she'd only just met them face to face an hour earlier, at 6:00 A.M. that morning. They'd come hopefully across the grass toward old Peabody Gym, some sleepy, some clearly early risers, all trying to look like they were The Ones. Winners. The Cheerleaders To Be.

  She'd wasted no time before lining them up

  in a sort of boot camp formation in the sun-parched center of the old track by the gym.

  "Good morning," she'd said then, briskly. And waited.

  It had taken them a moment, but they'd caught on and answered, "Good morning."

  Acknowledging it with a small nod, she'd said, "These are the cheerleading tryouts for the junior varsity squad of Salem University. Two people who were original members of the junior varsity will be on the new team this year and I will be choosing six additional cheerleaders at the end of this week. Until then, you will be working out, learning skills, demonstrating your teamwork abilities, and showing me why you are qualified to be a cheerleader. The final choice will not be made just on the final day, but on what I observe here all week."

  The coach had taken a deep breath and looked at her recruits. There was so much she wanted to tell them. But how?

  "Cheerleading is not about popularity or looks or partying. It is a sport. A cheerleader has as much right to be proud of being a finely tuned athlete as a football player or a basketball player or any of the other teams that the cheering squad supports. You are athletes, supporting other athletes. It is up to you to

  S

  measure up, athletically, to the other athletes, who are your colleagues."

  She'd stopped. They'd looked at her blankly.

  "Oh, well," she'd said almost to herself. "I'm new and you're new. These things take time."

  Raising her voice, she'd concluded, "Cheer-leading takes talent, skill, athleticism, and practice. My cheerleaders are, first of all, athletes. They work out as do other athletes. They observe training. They behave. They give their jobs as cheerleaders one hundred and ten percent. If they do not, they are benched.

  "Do I make myself clear?"

  The tone of her voice had said she didn't expect any questions. No one had asked any.

  Briefly she had introduced the two co-captains, Maria Pines and Rory Hanahama, and the former cheerleader now on crutches, who would be helping her with the tryouts, Jennifer Li. The thought of those three made her pause. Something wasn't right about that whole setup . . .

  Oh, well. She'd get to the bottom of it.

  The first hour of training was almost over now. As soon as everyone finished their three-mile run they'd have an hour and a half to eat breakfast or try to rest for the next session, which lasted from nine until twelve. Then an-

  other hour-and-a-half break and three-and-a-half hours of training again.

  At night, there would be cheers to memorize.

  Coach Truite smiled ruefully. She knew she came across as a martinet, almost a fanatic. But she considered the pose part of her job. Too many people thought cheerleading was some sort of spectator sport. Too many people went out for it for the glamour, the popularity.

  She was going to prove them wrong.

  She raised her megaphone. "Keep moving," she shouted through it. "Get those bodies going!"

  Susan Worth stared at the ceiling of the old dormitory room. She'd thought she would pass out from exhaustion the moment she'd lain down in the narrow, lumpy bed, but in spite of the fact that every muscle in her body ached, her mind kept racing furiously.

  Confused images of the day swam before her eyes: staggering at dawn down the worn, wooden-floored hall of the dorm toward the equally ancient bathroom. The groan of the old pipes as she twisted on the shower faucet. The sleep-glazed eyes and puffy faces of the other girls on the floor whom she met going in and out of the communal bathroom.

  She turned, seeking in vain for a more comfortable position, and groaned as her muscles protested. She groaned, too, at the thought of how carefully she'd picked out the clothes to wear on the first morning of the cheerleading tryouts session at Salem University. She'd always beheved in being pulled together, prepared outwardly, at least, for whatever was ahead. It had always given her confidence a little extra boost.

  But her confidence had ebbed as she'd fallen into the rigidly straight lines and stood at what amounted to attention under the coach's inspection. She had not been prepared, outwardly or inwardly, for the day that had just passed.

  Was this really what college was going to be like? The big adventure she'd so looked forward to? Was it going to be a series of days of being unprepared, of being not quite ready, of not knowing what was expected until it was almost too late and then having to scramble to keep up?

  At first she'd thought she was catching on. When she'd gotten the cheerleading tryout notice in her campus mailbox, she'd thought that it would be the icing on the cake. Just what she needed to really fit in. She'd been a good

  cheerleader in high school. How hard could it be now?

  But all the confidence she'd brought to Salem, all the confidence she'd brought to Abbey House (odd that they all had to stay in the same dorm during the tryouts. Part of the coach's fanatical emphasis on teamwork?) had all begun to drain away. No, sweat away, during the long, grueling hours of the first day of tryout practice.

  And everyone else seemed so good. So self-confident.

  But she had to win. She had to. No matter what it took. The idea of faihng, of people laughing at her, pointing at her, was unbearable.

  Almost as unbearable as being a nobody at this big new school.

  The small figure on the bed shifted restlessly. And groaned softly again. Susan Worth was not used to being unprepared. She wasn't used to coming in second.

  And she never, ever cried.

  Which is why she closed her eyes at last, even though she wasn't sleepy. It was harder for the tears to spill over that way.

  Delle huddled in the bay window of the first floor lounge, looking out at the other girls and

  guys sprawled around the room. It was an elegant room who se beautiful oak paneling and thick plaster walls gave it the feel of another, more formal era despite the jarringly modem furniture scattered over worn Oriental carpets.

  Shifting, trying to find a more comfortable position, Delle grimaced. Every time she moved, something hurt.

  A girl sprawled in the chair next to the window, her maroon-burnished black hair in a thousand tiny braids spread over the back of it, looked at Delle and made a sympathetic face.

  Delle tried to turn her grimace into a smile. She wasn't sure she succeeded.

  "They say the second day is harder," the girl said, fingering a crystal suspended on a thin silver chain at the base of her neck. "The third day it gets better."

  "I should last so long," said Delle. The girl in braids nodded.

  Delle reaKzed that she was only half-kidding about making it to the third day of the tryouts. After all, it didn't look — or feel — very promising for the second day tomorrow.

  Had cheerleading ever been this hard back home in Cedar Bluffs? All she could remember were the cheering crowds, the warm camaraderie among her team members. The fun.

  A girl with cropped blonde hair, a knockout

  figure, and pale blue eyes had just walked into the room with the air of someone who expected to be noticed. As she spoke to a group of people nearest the door Delle remembered who she was: Maria Pines, one of the co-captains. Although how the girl had become a co-captain without even trying out was puzzling.

  Delle frowned, then shifted again. Ugh, that hurt. No, she'd never been so sore in the whole time — all through junior high and high school — she'd been a cheerleader. She'd loved every minute of it and she'd jumped at the chance to try out for the Salem University junior varsity. If she made the team, she decided, her freshman year at Salem would be just about perfect.

  In fact, the only thing that would make it more perfect would be just the right guy. Not somebody like Warren. Serious, let's-get-married-after-high school Warren. When he'd asked her the night of the senior prom, she'd been so surprised she'd laughed.

  That had hurt Warren's feelings. It had made a very unhappy ending to an otherwise terrific evening.

  But how could he ask her to marry him? When he knew how excited she was about going to Salem? When there was a whole world out there waiting to be explored? When she

  wasn't in love with him and he wasn't in love with her?

  Warren had forgiven her. Then he'd stopped speaking to her, although she kept seeing him around. Almost as if he were lurking, watching. Following her.

  But she must have been wrong about that. Because three months later, right before she left for Salem, he'd left. Just packed up his old truck with a camper on the back and taken off.

  So that made twice Warren had surprised her in all the time they had been going together. Once when he'd asked her to marry him, and the second time when he'd just disappeared.

  But then, he'd always been a little strange, in spite of his all-American appearance.

  She wondered where he was now . . .

  Maria Pines spoke. Her slightly high-pitched voice carried through the room and jerked Belle's attention back to the present with the last two words.

  ". . . dead cheerleaders?" Maria paused dramatically, looking around the room to watch the effect of her words.

  A profound silence fell.

  "No, I guess they didn't tell you about that when they gave you all the information about these tryouts, did they?" Maria raised her eye-

  brows. "They didn't tell you why they had to pick six new members of the junior varsity."

  Maria reached up to fluff her short, upswept golden mane. Several rings glinted on her fingers and heart-shaped trinkets dangled at her ears.

  **What my — beautiful — co-captain is trying to say," a voice interrupted, "is that she and I became co-captains by default. A sort of fatal default." A tall, athletic boy lounged into the room and propped himself against the door jamb. He folded his arms and smiled sweetly at Maria.

  A series of expressions chased themselves across Maria's carefully made-up face: surprise, annoyance, calculation, and then a coy smile. "Rory," she said at last, noncommittally.

  **Wowwww," breathed Delle. Why hadn't she noticed him earlier? She looked up and realized that the girl in the braids had heard her and was smiling.

  Delle felt the blush staining her cheeks, but she couldn't help thinking, I could have some fun with him. . . .

  The dark-haired girl next to Delle said, "I'd like to know what's going on, if you don't mind. You were saying, about the cheerleading try-outs?"

  "Just this," said Maria, the smile fixed on

  her face, her eyes fixed on Rory. It gave Delle an eerie feeling, as if she were watching a performance in a play. "Practically the entire junior varsity team was killed in a freak bus accident this summer."

  A gasp went around the room as Maria continued, "All except me and Rory here. And Jennifer Li. Td gotten the flu. So I left camp early — two days before. Jennifer was on the bus, but was thrown clear — somehow. They found her yards and yards away. At first they thought she was dead, too. She said she didn't remember a thing. And then there's Rory."

  Maria stopped. She was watching Rory. And suddenly, it seemed as if everyone in the room was, too.

  Rory's expression darkened and he unfolded his arms and stood up straight.

  Don't let her get to you like that, thought Delle. Can't you see it's what she wants?

  The two, Maria and Rory, staring hard at one another, might have been alone in the room.

  Then Rory said, "And I caught a ride with a friend from State U."

  "At the last minute," added Maria sweetly.

  Delle couldn't stand it anymore. "What are you saying?" she challenged Maria.

  Maria looked slowly around the room, letting

  her gaze come to rest on Delle at last. For a long, measured moment, the two girls studied each other.

  Then Maria said, 'What Fm saying is that some people say that it wasn't an accident. That someone meant for the team — or someone on the team — to die.

  "That the Salem junior varsity was mur-dered"

  Chapter 2

  "That's not true," said Rory angrily.

  "Prove it," said Maria. "What about the brakes? The police said they 'couldn't rule out the possibility that someone had tampered with the brakes.' Remember, Rory?"

  A harsh voice cut across the rising babble of voices in the room.

  "No one will prove anything!" Coach Truite strode into the room with miUtary precision, and somehow Maria faded into the crowd. Rory stood his ground and Coach Truite turned to face the others. Her eyes narrowed.

  "I will have no rumors, no backbiting, no trouble. I am picking a team. The individuals comprising that team must work together efficiently. I will have no one on my team who is not a team player. Is that clear?" She stared hard for a moment at Maria, who quickly turned her head away. "I said, is that clear?"

  U

  Subdued murmurs of assent answered the coach.

  She seemed satisfied. The stem look on her face relaxed, and, although she didn't smile, she looked less forbidding than she had all day.

  "For those of you who are unaware of the tragedy to which Ms. Pines, I beUeve, was referring ..."

  *Woo," whispered the girl in the chair next to Delle. "She doesn't miss a thing,''

  ". . . returning from the annual Regional Cheerleading Camp and Competition at the end of June. The new junior varsity team, chosen last spring, had done very well. The bus in which they were riding apparently skidded out of control. There was one survivor, Jennifer Li, whom you met today, and who has graciously consented to help with the tryouts, although she has decided against returning to the team. Two other junior varsity members, Maria Pines and Rory Hanahama, were not on the bus. As the only remaining members of the original junior varsity team, they will be the co-captains this year, and, as I said earHer today, will be assisting me with the tryouts. Now, are there any questions?"

  No one moved. No one dared speak.

  The coach smiled at last, a resigned smile. Then she shrugged. 'Well then, I believe I

  posted Kghts out at eleven o'clock. It is now ten-thirty. Six-thirty tomorrow morning will come very early. Let me suggest to you that you begin your preparations for retiring now."

 

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