The Bookworm: The Wrong Number
The Wrong Number by R.L. Stine. 165 pages. Pocket Books. March 1990.
Although they admit they have no leads, police spokesman Lt. Evan Frazier says the investigation is continuing. “It may have been just a crank call,” he told the Press. “But we can’t rule out terrorism. We’re taking this threat very seriously.” (p. 36)
Terrorism rears its ugly head in Shadyside—in the form of bored teenagers with their own phone lines.
Autumn is here and Halloween season is just around the corner—my favorite time to read Fear Street books! (I often call them novels, but I don’t think they are. Technically, novels are more than 40,000 words, and I doubt that any book in the Fear Street series comes close to that. I’m unsure, though, but really don’t want to count.) Despite being published in March, the story in The Wrong Number takes place in September, making it the perfect book to kick off this season of Fear Street.
The Wrong Number tells the story of Deena and Jade, who begin making innocent prank phone calls to other students at Shadyside High. But when Deena’s stepbrother joins the fun, things take a serious turn.
When calling a home on Fear Street, a woman pleads for their help, fearing for her life. When the three teens investigate, they find the woman dead and the masked killer still in the house. Though they are able to escape with their lives, Deena’s stepbrother is charged with the woman’s murder. Unable to convince the police of what really happened, Deena and Jade try to track down the real killer and solve the woman’s murder on their own.
Though the story is engaging and very original, The Wrong Number is probably the most boring Fear Street book I have read yet. Not much happens after a certain point, and the events that do take place drag on and on; every little detail is stretched as far as it can go to fill space. Oddly, at 165 pages, it is one of the longest books in the series.
However, The Wrong Number does evoke a dose of nostalgia since the characters are using land lines. The book was written before caller ID and *69, which have more than likely pushed prank calls to the verge of extinction—at least I assume. If nothing else, prank calling’s heyday is likely a thing of the past. It’s a good thing, too, but at one point it seemed to be a rite of passage for American youth. Even I was pressured into making prank calls by older kids when I was younger. (I think we only called the operator, who then called back and informed the adults in the house what we were doing. Tongue lashings and disappointed, menacing stares ended the night.) I was a victim at least once, too. When I was in high school, somebody prank called my house and demanded money I owed. My parents—especially my dad—flipped out, thinking I was doing and dealing drugs. I have no clue who called—I suspect it was a classmate, but don’t know who it would have been—but dealing with the consequences was not fun. Needless to say, the nostalgia evoked may not be for prank calls, but instead for a time when prank calls were possible—when you had all your friends’ home phone numbers memorized, when people could only be reached by phone when they were at home or work, when people gave friends and family hotel contact information when they were on trips. Oh, the thrill of answering the phone and not knowing who is calling . . .
Many interesting and promising elements in the book turn out to be inconsequential. I am once again expecting too much from these books, but it bothers me when something seems important but is essentially abandoned. For example, Deena’s stepbrother has a troubled past that forces him to move to Shadyside. He is menacing and combative, but he also displays great bravery at certain points. I suppose both provide useful characterization, but neither become a factor after a certain point. But do they need to resurface and contribute once their job is done, once he’s been thrown in jail and can’t really do much? Maybe not.
Also, Deena prank calls a boy she likes, identifying herself as a secret admirer and teasing him with a sexy voice. Stine leads us to believe that the boy suspects it’s Deena, but we never know that for sure. I was hoping Stine would include a gotcha moment at the end, but nope.
Speaking of Deena and her stepbrother, their interactions made me think I was reading the script for a bad porno. “No, don’t tell Dad! I’ll do anything!” Okay, so neither of them said “I’ll do anything,” but their relationship was awkward.
There are a couple very convenient scenes or elements that raised my eyebrow—surprise, surprise. In one, while Deena and Jade interview a woman at her home, the phone beings to ring. The woman answers and tells the girls, “I’m going to go talk on the other extension. Please hang this up when I get on” (p.102). Really? Who does that? Needless to say, I bet you can guess what Jade does.
Also, one reason the police have for holding Deena’s stepbrother for further questioning is that the family Civic is splattered with “the green sandy clay that’s found only at the end of Fear Street” (p. 62). Add “distinctive soil” to the list of unique things about Fear Street.
