Wrong Number 2

T
he grinding roar of the chain saw grew louder. Its jarring vibrations made the entire tree shake.

Desperately, Deena clung to the high tree branch. Next to her, Jade, her features twisted in horror, wrapped her arms tightly around the trunk and held on.

The tree began to shake harder as the chains bit through the thick bark and into the wood. Struggling frantically not to slip off, Deena stared down through the night darkness into the determined face of Stanley Farberson.

“No!” she screamed. “No—please!”

But the screech of the chain saw drowned out her pleas.

Farberson killed his wife. And now he's going to kill Jade and me because we know what he did!

The terrifying thought repeated in her mind. Repeated until the words roared louder than the grinding saw.

The tree shook more violently. Deena heard a frightening
crack.

The sound of bones breaking, she thought.

The trunk split. And then the whole tree began to tilt.

“We're going down!” Jade wailed. Then said nothing more, her face frozen in a mask of terror.

Deena hugged the branch tighter as the tree started to topple. She opened her mouth to scream—but no sound came out.

Her eyes bulging in horror, she watched as the tree began to fall, carrying her with it.

And now she was falling—falling straight into the whirling blades of the saw.

• • •

“Ohh.” Deena let out a low moan and shook her head.

“I'm okay.” Yes, she was okay. She was hunched over her desk, staring at the night sky outside her bedroom window.

Remembering.

Remembering once again that horrifying night. The night on Fear Street. The night Stanley Farberson nearly killed her and Jade.

A year has passed, she told herself, shaking her head
as if trying to shake away the memories. Why do I keep reliving it again and again? Why do I keep putting myself back in that tree, watching Farberson's wild eyes, hearing the roar of the chain saw.

Deena stood up and walked shakily to the dresser mirror. Leaning on the dresser, she gazed at herself, at her tired eyes, her tense, tight-lipped expression.

“There's nothing to be afraid of now,” she told herself. “Farberson is in prison. Locked up for life. He can't get out. He can't hurt us now. He can't . . .”

“S
o how would I look as a blonde?”

“What?” Deena Martinson slammed her history book shut and gazed up at her friend.

“I'm serious,” Jade Smith said, twirling a strand of her long auburn hair around her finger. “I think being blond would be interesting, don't you? I'd look just like Sharon Stone.”

Deena laughed. “I don't believe you,” she said. “You have the most beautiful hair in the school, and you want to change it?”

“Or maybe I should get colored contacts.” Jade rolled off her bed, where she'd been studying. She stood in front of her full-length mirror. Her bright green cat suit made her eyes appear even greener, and showed off her great figure.

She curled her thumbs and forefingers into little
O
's and held them around her eyes. “How would I look with blue eyes?” she asked.

“Jade, what's your problem?” Deena demanded. “You're totally gorgeous the way you are. Why do you want to change anything?”

“I'm bored,” Jade complained. She dropped back on her bed, fished around in the night-table drawer for an emery board, and began to file the nails on her left hand.

“So am I,” Deena said, sighing. “Maybe
I'm
the one who should get a new look.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Jade.

“I don't know. Maybe it would be easier to find a new boyfriend if I looked different.”

Jade laughed. “What's the story with you and Pete Goodwin?”

“Pete's kind of boring,” Deena replied softly.

“You want to get back with Rob Morell—don't you!” Jade accused.

Deena could feel her face getting hot and knew she was blushing. “Maybe.”

“Well, forget it,” Jade told her. “Rob is so stoked over Debra Kern, he can barely speak to anyone else.” Jade concentrated on her nails. “What about Steve Mason? He's kind of cute. And he has that great Australian accent.”

“He'd never be interested in me,” Deena murmured.

“Why not?” Jade asked. “All you have to do is go after him.”

“For sure!” Deena said, rolling her eyes. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“It's easy,” Jade replied. “The next time you see him, just go up and talk to him. Let him know you're interested.”

“Why would that make him interested in me?”

“It always works for me,” Jade said. “In fact—”

The phone on her night table rang. She set down the emery board to pick up the receiver. “Oh,
hi,
Teddy!” Her voice sounded as if it were dripping with honey. “Well, of course I do. How are you?”

Deena stared at her friend in awe. When she spoke to a boy, Jade's whole face changed. Her eyes lit up, and her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. The tone of her voice made it sound as if the boy were the most wonderful person in the whole world.

Deena and Jade had been friends since fourth grade. But Deena still didn't know how her friend managed to do it.

“Yes, Teddy, we will. Uh-huh. That's Friday night, right? Of course. Wouldn't miss it. Okay.” Jade hung up the phone.

“Teddy, right?” Deena asked.

“Uh-huh.” Jade nodded. “He wanted to make sure I'm going to the game tomorrow night.”

Teddy Miller, the star guard for the Shadyside Tigers basketball team, was tall and rugged. Most of
the girls thought he was one of the best-looking guys in the school. He'd gone out with at least a dozen girls, and now he was very interested in Jade.

“Hey, I thought you and I were going to the game together,” Deena said.

“Well, of course we're going together,” Jade replied. “Teddy just wants to make sure I watch him play.” She narrowed her eyes and studied Deena. “You know what's wrong with you?” she said. “You don't have enough confidence.”

Deena laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“That's why you won't go up and talk to Steve,” Jade concluded. “You're one of the cutest and smartest girls at Shadyside High. I don't know why you won't let Steve know that.”

Because I'm shy,
Deena thought to herself. But then she realized that was just another way of saying she didn't have confidence. Maybe Jade was right.

“Hand me my brush, will you?” asked Jade. “It's on the dresser.”

Deena reached for the hairbrush. Underneath it was an envelope addressed to Jade. She handed Jade the brush, then picked up the envelope. Deena recognized the handwriting. “Is this from Chuck?” she asked.

“It came yesterday,” Jade said, running the brush through her auburn hair.

“How often does he write you?” Deena asked.

“Every week,” Jade replied.

“You're kidding!” Deena cried. “Chuck has time at college to write letters?”

“Guess so,” Jade said.

“Maybe college has changed him,” Deena said thoughtfully, staring at the envelope. “He seems to be keeping out of trouble. Not one call from the police down there!”

Jade snickered. “Your half brother is a wild man, all right! I think he's the most hotheaded guy I ever met.” She continued brushing out her hair.

Hotheaded
is
one
word for it, Deena thought darkly.
Crazy
is another. But maybe Chuck has learned to control that temper of his.

She felt the memories of last year pushing their way back into her mind. She remembered Chuck making those stupid phone calls. Calling phone numbers at random—just for laughs.

But the laughs had ended when Chuck dialed the number on Fear Street. Stanley Farberson's number. Chuck had called at a bad time. Farberson was about to murder his wife. Her screams in the background forced Deena, Jade, and Chuck to go to their house to investigate.

To get involved.

To get involved in a horrible murder. To nearly get themselves killed too.

All because of Chuck.

“Sometimes he writes more often,” Jade said. “He's really become kind of sweet. Too bad I don't have time to answer.”

“What do you mean you don't have time?” Deena accused.

“You know I like Chuck,” Jade explained. “But, really, he's off in college, and I'm here in Shadyside. Am I supposed to pine away for him?”

Deena didn't answer for a moment. Jade always went from boy to boy. But somehow it made a difference when it was Deena's own half brother. “Does Chuck know you're going out with Teddy? And the other guys?” Deena asked.

“I don't know
what
Chuck knows,” Jade answered sharply. “I mean, what Chuck doesn't know can't hurt him, right?”

“I guess,” Deena muttered. She felt annoyed. It wasn't as if Jade and Chuck were engaged or anything. But it seemed to Deena that they were right for each other.

“If Chuck finds out and loses his temper—” Deena started to say.

“No problem. I can handle Chuck,” Jade assured her. She finished brushing her hair and stood up. “I'm going to get some chips or something downstairs. Want a Coke?” she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Jade started down the hall. As she did, the phone rang again. “Would you get that for me?” she called back.

“Sure,” Deena said. She picked up the phone. As a goof, she decided to try to imitate Jade's honey-dripping voice. “Hellooooo,” she purred.

“Is this Jade?” the voice on the other end growled.

“Who
is
this?” Deena asked, her heart pounding.

“This is your wrong number, Jade,” the deep voice rasped.

“Huh? My what?”

“This is your wrong number. I'm coming to disconnect your line. Real soon.”