The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

I sat on Jeremy’s lap, the lights dimmed in the den. I had the music from the wall speakers on low so I wouldn’t disturb my parents, who had already gone to bed.

Jeremy held me tightly, and our mouths pressed together in a long kiss that was already making me breathless. I took a short break, then slid my hands over his cheeks and pulled his face back to mine.

I wondered if he could tell that I had something else on my mind. I kept glancing at the clock on the mantel and thinking about my ten o’clock visitor.

Yes, I’d invited Poppy over after her job at the taxi company. I’d finally reached her and finally got her to agree to let me apologize. I was nervous, totally stressed because I didn’t know what I was going to say.

The prank we played on Poppy was mean and stupid. Why had we let Jack persuade us that it would be funny, that Poppy would think it was funny? We should have stood up to him. We should have told him he was going too far.

Also, Jack had never told us that Rose was involved. We never knew that she was behind the whole thing, that Jack was just doing it for her.

We actually thought Jack and Poppy were together. We had no idea that Jack was just playing with her, that he was loyal to Rose the whole time.

We were stupid. What were we thinking?

And now, I really couldn’t concentrate on Jeremy. I had to figure out what to say to Poppy, my oldest friend.

I ran my hand through Jeremy’s hair. Then I pulled away. “You’ll never guess who dropped by,” I said. “Keith. You just missed him.”

Jeremy blinked. “Keith? He was here? Why?”

“I’m not sure. I think he wanted to talk about Poppy. He was only here for a few minutes. It was totally awkward.”

“Yeah. Weird,” Jeremy agreed. He leaned forward and kissed me again.

“You’ve got to go,” I said. “Sorry. I want to talk to Poppy alone.”

He blinked a few times. “Poppy?”

I nodded. “I told you. She’ll be here any minute.”

He put his hands on my waist and helped me to my feet. I straightened the short skirt I was wearing over black tights.

“Ivy, what are you going to say to her?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess I’ll just drop to my knees and beg her forgiveness.”

He stood up. “Don’t you want me to stay? We can both apologize together.”

“No.” I gave him a gentle push. “Get going. This has to be between Poppy and me. If I can get her to forgive me, she’ll forgive you, too.”

Jeremy kissed me on the cheek, then turned and made his way to the front door. I walked to the bathroom across from my room and used the mirror to straighten my hair. I brushed out a few tangles and swept it one way, then the other. I don’t know why I was spending so much time on my hair. Poppy didn’t care what I looked like.

The sound of the doorbell made me jump. I dropped my hairbrush onto the floor. As I walked to the front door, I could feel my hands go cold and my stomach tighten.

I suddenly wished I had planned what I was going to say. But Poppy and I had been friends for so long, I thought we could just talk the way we always had. Comfortable, like old friends.

Wow, was I wrong.

When I pulled the front door open, there she was, in a dark top, a gray patterned scarf hanging loosely from her neck, and black short shorts, her face already twisted into an angry scowl. She didn’t say hello or anything. She just asked if she could use my bathroom.

I led her down the hall to the bathroom. We didn’t say a word to each other as we walked. I waited for her in my room, perched on the edge of my bed. She was gone a long time. When she finally appeared in the doorway, she said, “I can’t stay.”

“Please,” I said, motioning to the green leather armchair against the window. “Just sit down for a minute so I can apologize to you.”

She stood stubbornly in the doorway. “Apologize? Are you joking?”

“Please. Give me a chance.” I motioned to the chair again.

I knew Poppy had a temper. I was in Lefty’s the night she smashed the cheeseburger into Rose Groban’s face. But she also could be warm and funny, and was the most enthusiastic person I knew. If she was into something or someone, she was in all the way.

So far, I wasn’t feeling any warmth.

“I just want to say—” I started.

She raised a hand. “Save it.”

“You’re not even going to give me a chance to say I’m sorry?”

She shook her head. “You just said it. Can I go now?”

I jumped to my feet and took a few steps toward her. “Why are you acting like this? How long have we been friends, Poppy? How long? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. She stepped forward, as if to challenge me. “What kind of friend betrays another friend?”

“Betrays?” I cried.

“Betrays and humiliates. How could you go along with that prank, Ivy? How could you? You had to know it would be the worst night of my life.”

“I . . . I didn’t know,” I stammered. “Jack had us all convinced—”

“Shut up about Jack,” she snapped. “Just shut up. You have a brain. No one forced you to do it. Jack didn’t force you. You agreed to it. You agreed to it and you know it.”

“Poppy, listen—” She had her fists clenched. Was she really planning to fight me? To hurt me? “You’re right,” I said, my throat suddenly tight. “It was terrible. I was terrible. I should have known better. But I want to apologize now. I want us to get past it. Can’t we start all new?”

She laughed a cold laugh.

“Pitiful,” she said. “Start all new? Ha. That’s pitiful.” She stepped up close to me. She lowered her gaze. I thought I saw tears on her cheeks. “It hurt too much, Ivy. It hurt too much. I thought . . . I thought you were my friends. But I saw what being a friend meant to you all.”

“I . . . I can be a good friend.” I didn’t want to cry, but hot tears were running down my cheeks now. “Poppy, I can be a good friend.”

She spun away. “I . . . I don’t think so.”

I stood there, trembling, tears rolling down my face, and listened to her footsteps as she made her way down the hall. I heard the front door slam, and I still didn’t move.

We had been so close, such good pals. And I had ruined it by going along with Jack’s stupid prank. How was I supposed to know that he and Rose had dreamed it up? How were any of us to know?

I stood there in my room with my fists clenched and my head spinning. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a rock. I wanted to climb into bed and pull the covers over my head.

“I guess that’s it,” I said aloud. “I’ve lost my best friend.”

I wiped the tears on my cheeks with both hands. Then I started to pull off my clothes. I knew there was only one way to calm myself. The only thing that ever calms me is a good, long shower.

I crossed the hall to my bathroom and got my shower going. It takes a while for the water to get hot. I fluffed my hair out with my hands and grabbed the shampoo bottle I keep on my sink.

I kept remembering Poppy and me having good times together. I couldn’t keep the pictures from my mind. I saw us riding an elephant at the circus when we were ten. And baking apple pies all by ourselves in her kitchen when we were older.

I remembered what we wore at our junior-high prom, and the two geeks who were our dates. I saw us going for our driver’s test together downtown.

I stepped into the shower. I needed the hot water to splash the memories away. I let the water soak my hair. I lowered my head and raised the back of my hair to the steaming water.

Yes . . . Whenever I got stressed out, this was the only thing that ever calmed me.

I squeezed a puddle of shampoo onto my palm and rubbed it into my hair. Not enough. I poured out more shampoo and smoothed it down the length of my hair.

The shampoo had a coconut aroma. I shut my eyes and pretended I was down in a tropical island, with palm trees and coconuts and—

“Hey—!”

I cried out when I felt the tingle at the top of my head.

What’s up with that?

The tingle quickly spread. It became a burning sensation.

“Oh, wait. Oh, wait.”

I raised my hands to the top of my head. The pain spread over my scalp and down the back of my neck. “Owwwww.” It hurt. It really hurt. And it was growing more intense.

I grabbed at my hair—and a thick clump came off in my hand.

What is happening?

My head burned as if it was on fire. I lowered my glance and saw clumps of my hair on the shower floor.

“Nooooooo!” A scream burst from my mouth. I shut off the water. Stepped out of the shower. Hands clamped to my burning, throbbing head, I stumbled to the mirror.

Big bald spots. My scalp flaming red. The sink filled with my hair.

“Oh, it hurts. It hurts.”

I tugged out another clump.

Was something wrong with the shampoo?

My head was burning . . . my hands were burning . . . burning . . . on fire.

I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t think. The pain was burning down to my brain.

I started to scream. “Help me! Please! Someone? Anyone? Please—help me!”