The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

“Does your nose still hurt?” I asked. “I don’t see a bruise.”

Rose moved the hand mirror to a different angle and narrowed her eyes, examining her skin. “She could have broken it,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“My sister is crazy,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s not usually a violent person, but she’s angry. Especially when it comes to me.” I sighed. “Don’t ask me why.”

We were in Rose’s bedroom, perched on the edge of the peach-colored quilt over her bed.

I had a large paper cup of iced tea in my hand. I took a long sip as I watched Rose. She lowered the mirror to her lap and patted her skin tenderly with the palm of one hand.

“If she had broken my nose, I’d have no choice, Heather. I’d have to sue. And there’s no way I could lose. Poppy assaulted me, and there are at least a dozen witnesses. Everyone in that restaurant saw what she did.”

“Insane,” I muttered. “Totally insane.” I didn’t know what else to say.

My first time hanging with Rose. My first opportunity to learn about acting. The first person who ever took me seriously, who offered to be a friend and help me and teach me. And what does Poppy do? She spoils the whole thing. Deliberately tries to spoil my chance.

Why? Jealousy? That can’t be right. Poppy can’t be jealous of me. She has the awesome looks and the good friends and the sparkly personality. She has everything I wish I had. So . . . it can’t be jealousy.

Does she just plain hate me? She has no reason to hate me. I’ve always wanted to be close to her. I’ve never done anything to hurt her.

What is her problem?

“Of course, I wouldn’t really sue,” Rose said, crossing to her dressing table. She sat down and began to rearrange her hair.

She’s so beautiful. She could be an actress. She seriously has the looks. “Poppy and I have known each other for too long,” she continued, looking at me in the mirror. “I couldn’t sue her or your family. I always considered her a friend.”

She began to run a hairbrush slowly through her hair. “Sure, we have our competitive sides, but that’s just fun. It’s fun to test each other, to try to win against one another in school or in Drama Club or wherever. I never took it seriously.”

I didn’t reply. I knew Poppy took it very seriously.

“It’s not like we’re archenemies or something,” Rose said, brushing faster.

Oh, yes, it is.

And of course that explained why Poppy had gone berserk. She saw me sitting there enjoying myself with her archenemy. The whole thing was about me. I guess I should have been flattered, flattered that my sister cared so much.

But . . . no way. I’m entitled to my own life and my own friends. She will never share her friends with me. Never. She always shuts me out. So what gives her the right to decide who I hang out with?

“Your sister didn’t just try to humiliate me,” Rose said, setting down the hairbrush and turning her head to admire her work in the mirror. “She tried to hurt me. But I know she’ll do the right thing and apologize.”

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “I know her and her temper. Also, it cost her her job. She’s probably waiting for you to apologize.”

Rose grinned. “Yes. Definitely. It was my fault for putting my face in front of the cheeseburger.”

We both laughed.

I finished the iced tea and turned the cup in my hands. Rose crossed to her desk and rifled through a stack of papers. “Let’s give you your first acting lesson,” she said. She handed me a one-page script. “We’ll start with the best. See how you do.”

I skimmed through the lines quickly. “What is this? Shakespeare?”

She nodded. “Did you read Macbeth in ninth grade?”

“Yes. But I didn’t understand a lot of it. I thought—”

“It’s Lady Macbeth’s soliloquy. Remember it?”

“Not really.” I squinted up at her. “You really want me to start with Shakespeare? Shouldn’t we try something easier?” I tried to read the first lines.

“‘They met me in the day of success, and I have learned by the perfect’st report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished.’”

“Rose? What does that mean?”

An indulgent smile crossed her face. It was the kind of smile you give an infant. “You need to go slow and think about it and work at it, Heather. Take one line at a time. Go over it until you know the words and the meaning.”

I stared at the words. They were all a blur now. “Do you have a script to the play you’re doing at school?”

She shook her head. “Trust me. Before you can do something easy, you need to try something hard.”

Did that make sense? I decided I’d have to think about it. But I was thrilled that she wanted to pay so much attention to me. She must have thought I really had a spark of talent.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try,” I said. “I’ll—”

Her phone buzzed and vibrated, interrupting us. She dove for it on the other side of the bed, glimpsed at the screen, and raised it to her ear. “Oh, hi. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

I could hear a guy’s voice on the other end.

“Wait a sec,” Rose said into the phone. “Just a moment.” She turned to me. “You’d better go now, Heather. I have to take this.”

I nodded. And then the words blurted from my mouth: “You have a boyfriend?”

I saw a flash of anger in her eyes. Anger that I asked a question she didn’t want to answer? She didn’t reply at all. Just waited for me to get off the bed and leave.

But then I saw that her gaze was down at my hands. “Heather, look what you did,” she said. “You scratched the backs of your hands. Look—you’re bleeding.”

I uttered a cry of surprise and stared at my blood-stained hands. “I did? Wow. I didn’t even realize.”