The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

My legs were shaking like rubber. My knees started to fold. I was still gripping the gun. It felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds in my hand.

Manny didn’t move. He kept his lens locked on us.

“P-please . . . ,” I stuttered. “I . . . shot . . . him.”

Ivy and Jeremy stared at me. Even through the masks I could see the horror in their eyes.

I gasped as Jack burst out laughing.

He pumped both fists in the air. “That was awesome!” he cried. He turned to Manny. “Did you stop it? Is the live stream off? Any way to know how many people were watching?”

Manny didn’t reply. He kept the phone aimed in front of him.

Jack spun around and threw his arms around me. He pressed me in a tight hug. Our ski masks slid together in a scratchy embrace.

“Poppy, you were great! Great!” Jack cried. “I believed it. Everyone will believe it. Poppy, you made it so real!”

I was too stunned to speak. I wanted Jack to hold on to me. I needed his arms around me to stop the trembling. I wanted his face pressed against mine, even through the masks.

But he quickly turned away. “Okay, Mr. Harlow,” he called. “The video is over. You can get up now.”

We all stared at the front counter.

“You were great,” Jack called to him. “Thanks for playing along with us.”

Silence. No reply. And no movement behind the counter.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it. We all watched as if we were frozen, stared at the counter, at the cigarette display behind it, at the red Coca-Cola sign at one side.

“Mr. Harlow? Are you okay?” Ivy was the one to call out. She took a cautious step toward the counter.

But Jack dodged around her and stepped behind the counter. He dropped to his knees.

I realized I was still holding my breath. “What is happening?” The words slipped from my mouth. “Jack—tell us!”

And then Jack’s voice rose from down on the floor, high and shrill. “Oh nooooo. No! No!”

“Jack? What’s wrong?” I choked out.

“He’s dead. You really shot him, Poppy.”

“But, Jack—”

I screamed when I saw the dark-red puddle spread out on the floor from under the counter.

“I thought it was loaded with blanks,” Jack said, still down on the floor, hidden behind the counter. “I really did. But he’s dead. You killed him.”

Silence. And then Jack’s shrill cry—

“Everyone, run. Run. Let’s get out of here!”