Psycho Killer Read Online Free PDF Page B

“You know, like Valium or Prozac. Or maybe she’s been abducted by an alien force and they’re like, controlling her brain from outer space.”
    “She could be making her own drugs,” Kati quipped. “She was always good at science.”
    “What is that on her dress? Campari? Wine?”
    “No, blood. Have you seen her fingernails? Disgusting. I heard she really did join some kind of cult,” Chuck offered. “Like, she’s been brainwashed and now all she thinks about is sex and she like, has to do it all the time. And then she tortures and kills the guys she does it with. Naked.”
    How convenient. That sounds exactly like his favorite bad dream.
    When is dinner going to be ready?
Blair wondered, tuning out her friends’ ridiculous speculations. Serena was too beautiful and sweet to ever join a cult or torture or maim or kill anyone. Blair even had to do all the dissecting in seventh-grade Biology because Serena didn’t want to hurt the poor froggie.
    Won’t she be pleasantly surprised.
    She had forgotten how pretty Serena’s hair was. How perfect her skin was. How long and thin her legs were. What Nate’s eyes looked like when he looked at her—like he never wanted to blink. He never looked at Blair that way, the fucker. She could kill him for looking at Serena like that. Rip the heart right out of his sleeve and ram it down his throat. If only she didn’t love him so.
    “Hey Blair, Serena must have told you she was coming back,” Chuck said. “Come on, tell us. What’s the deal?”
    Blair stared back at him blankly, her small, foxlike face turning red. The truth was, she hadn’t really spoken to Serena in over a year. For all she knew, Serena really had turned into a cannibalistic brainwashed prostitute slash drug manufacturer.
    Not really, but she’s getting warmer.
    At first, when Serena had gone to boarding school after sophomore year, Blair had really missed her. But it soon became apparent how much easier it was to shine without Serena around. Suddenly
Blair
was the prettiest, the smartest, the hippest, most happening girl in the room. She became the one everyone looked to. So Blair stopped missing Serena so much. She’d felt a little guilty for not staying in touch, but even that had worn off when she’d received Serena’s flip and impersonal text messages describing all the fun she was having at boarding school.
Hitchhiked to Vermont to snowboard. Spent nite with hottest guy. Danced his head off!
    Bad girl weekend. Head hurts. Boys clothes & shoes on my floor but no boy. Whered he go?
    The last news Blair had received was a postcard this summer:
Turned seventeen on Bastille Day. Vive la France!—the most awesome place to live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse! Miss you!! xoxo, S
.
    Blair had tucked the postcard into her old Fendi shoebox with all the other mementos from their friendship. A friendship she would cherish forever, but which she’d thought of as over… until now.
    Serena was back. The lid was off the shoebox, and everything would go back to the way it was before she left. As always, it would be Serena and Blair, Blair and Serena, with Blair playing the smaller, fatter, mousier, less witty best friend of the blond übergirl, Serena van der Woodsen.
    Or not. Not if Blair could help it.
    “You must be so excited Serena’s here!” Isabel chirped. But when she saw the murderous look on Blair’s face, she changed her tune. “Of
course
Constance took her back. It’s so typical. They’re too desperate to lose any of us.” Isabel lowered her voice. “I heard last spring Serena was fooling around with some townie up in New Hampshire. She had an abortion,” she added. “And then she started killing guys if they even looked at her.”
    “Which is sort of hard not to do,” Chuck said. “I mean, just look at her.”
    And so they did. All four of them looked at Serena, who was still chatting happily with Nate. Chuck saw the girl whose scabs he’d offered to pick in first