The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

The dogs came out of the back of Jack’s pickup squealing and barking and yapping their heads off. I don’t know who was more excited—us or them.

Luckily, it was near closing time. So there was no one in this back hall to try to stop us. We couldn’t really stop the dogs anyway. They followed each other, tails waving furiously, into the mall, toenails clicking on the marble floor, directly into the pet store.

Jeremy held the store door open. We barely had to herd them. They seemed to know exactly where they were supposed to go. They were mostly a shaggy mess. Some big dogs, shepherd mixes or something, I don’t really know dogs. One huge black one with clumps of fur almost down to the floor, was the size of a small horse. There were small ones, too, squeaking and clucking, scraggly creatures, not cute.

I heard screams from inside the store. I guess Mr. McNulty was catching on to what was happening. Manny couldn’t stop laughing. He had his phone held high and was recording the stampede of dogs. I heard howls and a crash, and McNulty was cursing his head off now.

Ivy and I followed the last dog into the store in time to see the big black dog rise up and knock McNulty over. I heard glass shatter. It was a long, narrow store. Jack’s dogs were squeezed in the aisle. And then it got noisier as some of the pet-store dogs broke out and came running to join the party, and their barks and howls of joy drowned out McNulty’s curses.

“Check that out!” Manny bumped my shoulder from behind and pointed. A large gray mutt had managed to chew open a big bag of dog food, and the dogs were going nuts—they must have been hungry—clawing and pouncing on each other, yapping and squealing, desperate to join in the dinner party as the meaty brown bits tumbled from the bag.

McNulty was lost behind a mountain of dogs. A tall wooden stool had been knocked over and lay on its side in the aisle. Dogs had climbed onto the front counter. More pet-store dogs came running from a back room. I have no idea how they escaped. Had the newcomers set them free?

I heard another crash as dogs knocked over a tall pile of plastic food dishes. Dogs were fighting now, snarling and snapping at each other to get to the open food bag.

The sound was deafening, but I could still hear the store owner cursing and screaming. “I’m calling 911! I’m calling 911! I’m calling the police!”

I couldn’t stop laughing. It was just so insane! Like one of those ancient silent comedies my dad had showed me when I was little.

Manny was laughing, too. Jeremy had his hands over his ears. Maybe he’s allergic to loud noises, too. Ivy had picked up one of the white puppies from the front window and was cuddling it against her.

Manny stopped recording and lowered his phone. He turned to Jack, who had a broad smile frozen on his face. “Are we done here?”

“Yep,” Jack said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Hey—what about the dogs?” I had to shout over the squeals and barks.

“Not our problem,” Jack said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front door. The others scattered. Ivy and Jeremy started to jog to the other end of the mall, where Jeremy had parked. I looked for Keith. I’d actually forgotten about him. Had he just gone home and left us?

“You need a ride?” Jack asked.

And that’s how I ended up in his truck. But how I ended up kissing him, wrapped in his arms . . . Well . . . I’m not sure how that happened.

He was making the truck roar, showing off its speed, making it slide, as we headed to my house up near River Ridge. I knew he was showing off for me. He didn’t say much. I think he thinks that’s part of what makes him so cool. He’s quiet and mysterious. Those silver-gray eyes always seem to be far away, like he’s thinking of important things, like he’s not entirely with you.

That’s what I thought, riding home with him. And when he parked at the bottom of my driveway and slid his arms around my shoulders and pulled me against him, I hesitated. “I have a boyfriend,” I said, but it came out in a shaky voice I didn’t recognize.

“That’s cool,” he whispered. Then he pressed his mouth against mine, and I didn’t think about Keith for a minute.