Free Psycho Killer by Cecily von Ziegesar Page A

terrible, tacky sheen and came in a new color: maroon. It was hideous. And it was this maroon uniform that Serena had chosen to wear on her first day back atConstance. Plus, hers came all the way down to her knees! All of the other seniors were wearing the same old navy blue wool skirts they’d been wearing since sixth grade. They’d grown so much their skirts were extremely short. The shorter the skirt, the cooler the girl. Blair actually hadn’t grown that much, so she’d secretly had hers shortened.
    “What the fuck is she wearing, anyway?” Kati Farkas hissed.
    “Maybe she thinks the maroon looks like Prada or something,” Laura sniggered back.
    “I think she’s trying to make some kind of statement,” Isabel whispered. “Like, ‘Look at me, I’m Serena, I’m beautiful, I kill people, and I can wear whatever I want.’ ”
    And she can
, Blair thought. That was one of the things that always infuriated her about Serena. She looked good in anything.
    But never mind how Serena looked. What Jenny and every other person in the room wanted to know was:
Why is she back?
    They craned their necks to see. Did she look stoned? Did she have a black eye? Did she have all her teeth? Was she pregnant? Had she stabbed anyone recently? Was there anything truly different about her at all?
    “Is that a scar on her cheek?” Rain whispered.
    Blair glared at her, wondering when everyone was going to stop talking about Serena. So she was back? Big deal. Time to move on, people.
    “She was knifed one night dealing drugs,” Nicki Button turned around to whisper, her crystal icicle pendant swinging from her neck. “I heard she had plastic surgery in Europe this summer, but they didn’t do a very good job. And now she like, kills boys to get revenge. She’s totally lost it.”
    Mrs. McLean was reading out loud now. Serena sat back in herchair, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes, basking in the old familiar feeling of sitting in this room full of girls, listening to Mrs. M’s voice. She didn’t know why she’d been so nervous that morning before school. She was home now. This was where she belonged.
    “Oh my God, I think she’s asleep,” Kati whispered to Laura.
    “Maybe she’s just tired,” Laura whispered back. “I heard she got kicked out for sleeping with every boy on campus. There were notches in the wall above her bed. Her roommate told on her—that’s the only way they found out.”
    “Plus, all those late-night chicken dances,” Isabel added, sending the girls into a giggling frenzy.
    “The notches were for all the boys she killed,” Nicki insisted. “She was the one who came up with the Comet and cinnamon thing. It was her invention.”
    Blair bit her lip, fighting back a snarl. Enough was enough. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She reached for Nicki’s ponytail, pretending to remove a piece of lint from the shiny blond strands. Then, with a sharp yank on the gold chain around Nicki’s neck, she crushed the girl’s windpipe before ramming the ridiculous crystal icicle pendant through her yellow Ralph Lauren turtleneck and into her jugular.
    Tennis does wonders for one’s reflexes.
    “All rise,” Mrs. McLean instructed. “Now go forth and have a wonderful week.”
    Mrs. Weeds pounded out the notes to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and both she and Mrs. McLean began to sing in tone-deaf operatic voices as the girls filed out of the auditorium.
“
Glo-ry, glo-ry, hal-lelu-u-u-jah!
    Glo-ry, glo-ry, hal-lelu-u-u-jah!”
    Nicki slumped in her chair, her red Coach backpack at her feet.
    “Come
on
, Nicki,” Rain Hoffstetter hissed. “We have Double French.”
    Blair shoved Rain toward the door. “She’s just looking for a tampon. She’ll catch up with us later.”
    But Nicki was still there when Jenny Humphrey’s class marched by.
    Amazing
, Jenny remarked silently, noting Nicki’s lifeless form. Serena wasn’t wasting any time. She’d only been back at Constance for five