The Wrong Number (Fear Street) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

R.L. Stine invented the teen horror genre with Fear Street, the bestselling teen horror series of all time. He also changed the face of children’s publishing with the mega-successful Goosebumps series, which went on to become a worldwide multimedia phenomenon. Guinness World Records cites Stine as the most prolific author of children’s horror fiction novels. He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their dog, Lucky.

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Chapter 1: The First Week in September

1 THE FIRST WEEK IN SEPTEMBER

The blob of green gel oozed like something from the bottom of a decaying swamp. It spread and settled in its container, quivering, as if searching for a way to escape or a way to take over.

Deena Martinson plunged her hand into the porcelain sink and slowly squeezed the gelatinous mass.

“Yuck!” she said. “Are you sure you want to put this on your hair?”

“Go ahead,” said her friend Jade Smith. Jade was sitting on a wooden stool in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel covering her shoulders, her freshly washed auburn hair hanging in damp coils down her back.

“I know your mom’s a professional hairdresser,” said Deena, “but this stuff looks like the thing that ate Cincinnati. And I won’t even tell you what it feels like.”

“Go on,” Jade insisted. “My mom uses it on her hair all the time, and it looks great. All shiny and full of body.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean dead bodies?” cracked Deena. She began applying the gel to her friend’s hair. Soon the long tresses were covered with slime and gave off a faintly Jell-O-y scent.

“Now what?” she asked when she had finished.

“Now we wait for it to dry,” said Jade. “At which point I’ll be ravishing. Sure you don’t want to try it? We could do your hair in spikes.”

Deena fingered her own baby-fine hair. It was shortish, and blondish, and straightish. All she could do was wear it layered and hope for the best. Her mother said her hairdo made her look like an angel. She wasn’t sure she liked that idea, but spikes didn’t sound any better. “No, thanks,” she said. “I have enough problems without trying secret formula x-oh-nine or whatever it is.”

“It could be your big chance,” said Jade, but she didn’t push. She didn’t seem to care much. In fact, she sounded a little bored—as bored as Deena felt.

“What a way to spend Saturday night,” said Deena with a sigh.

“Yeah, I hate to admit it,” said Jade, “but I’ll actually be glad when school starts Monday. It’ll be great to see all the kids, start going to dances and games.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Deena.

“Hey, Miss Enthusiasm.”

“It’s just I don’t know what to expect,” Deena said. “Things are going to be different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just found out that my brother, Chuck, is going to be living here.”

“Your brother? You don’t have a brother,” said Jade.

“My half brother, actually. He’s my dad’s son from his first marriage. I’ve only met him a few times. He’s coming to Shadyside for his senior year.”

“Really?” Jade was all ears now, but then she usually was where boys were concerned.

“Down, girl,” said Deena. “Chuck is nothing but trouble. In fact, that’s why he’s coming here. He was supposed to graduate from Central City last year, but he got expelled. His mom and my dad decided he’d do better in a small town like Shadyside.”

“Expelled?” said Jade. “What for?”

“I’m not sure,” said Deena. “It had something to do with some kids he hung out with. He actually got arrested one time. He’s been getting in trouble ever since he was little.”

“He sounds interesting,” said Jade with a mischievous smile.

“To you, Freddy Krueger would sound interesting,” cracked Deena, wandering into her bedroom.

“It’s just that the regular boys at Shadyside are so predictable,” said Jade, following her. “That’s ‘predictable,’ spelled B-O-R-I-N-G.” She pulled the towel off her shoulders, then shook her damp hair out and pirouetted in front of the full-length mirror on Deena’s closet door, admiring her figure. She was wearing a pink-and-white-checked jumpsuit with short sleeves. Deena had heard that redheads weren’t supposed to wear pink, but Jade looked good in every color of the rainbow—and she knew it. In fact, she was very vain. But, Deena had to admit, Jade had a lot to be vain about.

“How’s your hair doing?” Deena asked to change the subject.

“Still cooking,” said Jade. She suppressed a yawn, then sat on Deena’s bed and began using an emery board on her already perfect nails. She looked around the room, and her eyes stopped on a bright blue plastic object on the bedside table.

“What’s this?” she said.

“My new phone,” said Deena. “When my dad got promoted to vice president of the phone company, they gave us the latest instruments.”

“It’s pretty rad,” said Jade, picking it up. “It looks like the control panel for a jet plane or something. What are all these buttons for?”

“They’re for programming in phone numbers,” said Deena. “You push one button, and the phone automatically dials a number. That button’s for putting the caller on hold. And this switch”—she pointed to a switch on the handset—“turns it into a speakerphone, so everyone in the room can hear the conversation.”

“Yeah?” said Jade. “That sounds like it has possibilities. In fact, it gives me an idea. Whose numbers are in it?”

“I haven’t programmed in too many yet,” said Deena. “Just my grandmother, Mrs. Weller next door, and you, of course.”

“Me? Really? How do I dial it?”

“Just punch number three.”

“Watch this. My little sister Cathy’s babysitting the kids tonight.” She punched number three, then flipped the switch for the speaker, a strange smile on her face.

“Hello,” she said, holding her nose so she sounded as if she had a cold. “Miss Cathy Smith, please.”

“This is Cathy Smith,” said the voice on the other end. Through the speaker her voice sounded hollow and far away, as if it were coming from the bottom of a well.

“I’m calling from the Shadyside Mall Association,” said Jade, still holding her nose. “Miss Smith, I regret to inform you that you have been selected worst-dressed shopper of the month.”

“What?” shrieked Cathy at the other end. “I didn’t even go to the mall today!”

“You were positively identified by over a dozen shoppers,” said Jade. “You have exactly one hour to pick up your prize, a dozen wilted daisies.”

“A dozen what?” wailed Cathy. Then her voice turned suspicious. “Wait a minute. I know who this is. It’s not the mall. Jade, I know you—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Jade, pinching her nose even tighter. “This is the—”

“You can’t fool me,” Cathy went on. “Next time pick on someone as stupid as you are!” The sound of the click as she hung up filled the room.

“Rats!” said Jade. “I should try it with someone who doesn’t...