The Wrong Girl (Return to Fear Street Book 2)

After lunch the next afternoon, we were all herded into the auditorium to watch the play. I wanted to sit near the back, out of sight from Rose or anyone else on stage. But I got caught in the stampede and ended up in the third row.

When some kids in the row saw me sit down, they jumped up and moved to the side. Not too subtle. I guessed they didn’t want to sit next to a killer. I don’t know what they thought I might do, sitting there with my hands in my lap. But they felt they had to move away, to show me how they felt about me.

I yawned. I slid down low in my seat. Maybe I’ll take a nap.

It was noisy. Everyone was talking and laughing and kidding around. They were all happy about getting out of class for the afternoon to watch a play.

Mrs. Gonzalez came walking down the center aisle. She didn’t stop to talk to anyone. But I saw her eyes stop on me for a long moment.

I turned and saw Jack come hurrying down the steps from the stage on the far right. He hopped down the last two steps and disappeared out the auditorium door. I guessed he’d been backstage wishing Rose good luck. Or rather, to break a leg.

Andru Something-or-Other, a foreign-exchange student, sat next to me. He was very big and wide and his body kept pressing against mine, like he was overflowing his seat. I kept edging to the left, but the big guy couldn’t help but slide against me.

He was kind of good-looking, with piercing blue eyes that looked like marbles, short sandy hair, and a friendly, toothy smile. But he wore socks under his sandals and didn’t have a clue about how to dress. And he didn’t speak much English.

I glanced at my phone. One fifteen. Why wasn’t the play starting?

Mrs. Gonzalez strode to the center of the stage, a mic raised in one hand. She started to say something, but Mr. G came trotting over to her from the other side of the stage.

He muttered something in her ear. Then he took the mic from her. “A short delay,” he said. He pulled the mic away. It was set too loud. “We are trying to find our star. Please talk among yourselves. It should only be a moment.”

Trying to find Rose?

Wouldn’t Rose be pumped and ready to finally share her great talent with everyone?

Mr. G said something else to Mrs. Gonzalez, then handed the mic back to her. They both walked off in different directions.

Everyone started talking at once. I kept thinking about what Mr. G had said. We are trying to find our star. How weird. Jack must have seen her when he was backstage a few minutes ago.

Andru Something-or-Other bumped me and said something I didn’t understand. I asked him to repeat it, and it sounded something like, “Is there a problem?”

I smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it will be okay.”

He nodded and adjusted his big body in the seat.

Time passed. I don’t know how much. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Kids started to clap, encouraging the play to start. And then, finally, the auditorium lights dimmed.

I sat up as I saw the stage curtain start to move. Our curtain doesn’t slide from side to side. It goes up and down.

A bright yellow spotlight spread over the maroon curtain as it started to go up. It rose about six or eight feet—and then it stopped.

Some kids gasped when they saw there was something hanging from the curtain, weighing it down, keeping it from rising. It appeared to be a large knot of ropes.

The yellow spotlight concentrated on the large knot. From my seat, it looked like an enormous beehive. But it took only seconds to see that someone was tangled in the ropes.

Someone was in the ropes. Not moving. Arms spread straight out. Eyes wide.

The screams began as everyone recognized Rose Groban.

Rose, strangled in the ropes, her head at such an ugly angle, her hair falling down the side of her lifeless head.

I screamed, too. I screamed at the most horrifying scene I had ever witnessed. Screamed in terror and fright, even though it was Rose. Beautiful Rose. Dead in the curtain. Strangled to death.

And, oh no!

Oh no! Oh no!

Was that my scarf around her neck?