My Name Is Evil Page 3

  I started to lift my pizza slice to my mouth—when I felt a hard bump—like a heavy brick landing on my lap. “Plumper!” I cried. The pizza slice started to fall. I made a wild grab for it.

  Judy’s enormous orange-and-white cat pushed its fat body against my side.

  “Plumper—get down!” Judy ordered. “Get off Maggie!”

  Of course the cat ignored her.

  The cat burrowed its fat head into my lap. “I don’t believe this!” I cried to Judy. “Why does he always pick on me?”

  “Plumper knows you don’t like him,” Judy replied.

  “He’s just so big and heavy, and he always jumps on me, and—and—” I sneezed hard. Once. And then sneezed again.

  “You don’t have to sneeze like that. We know you’re allergic to cats!” Jackie said.

  “Oh, yuck!” I cried. I held up my pizza slice. It had clumps of orange fur stuck all over it.

  The cat stretched its paws over my lap.

  “Plumper—what did you do?” Judy scolded. “Just shove him away, Maggie. You’ve got to be firm. Just push him.”

  I hesitated. I felt about to sneeze again. The cat was so heavy on my lap. Finally I gave him a soft shove. “Go away, Plumper. Go.”

  To my surprise, he tossed back his head, bared his teeth, and let out a long, frightening hiss.

  Before I could move, the big cat swiped its claws over my arm.

  “Owww!” I let out a scream. The pizza slice fell to the floor.

  The cat hissed again, louder. It lowered its head—and tried to sink its teeth into my arm.

  With a cry, I leaped up.

  I tried to back away, but stumbled over the coffee table.

  Hissing furiously, the cat dived for me. Swiped both front paws over my jeans legs, clawing, snapping its jaws.

  I fell hard onto my back. And before I could roll or spin away, the cat was on top of me. Hissing so loudly, so furiously. Hissing like an angry snake. And clawing, clawing at my face. Climbing over me. Clawing. Biting.

  “Help me!” I shrieked. “Help! He’s trying to kill me!”

  “Plumper!” I could hear Judy scream. She sounded so far away. “Plumper—what’s wrong with you!”

  I raised both arms to protect my face.

  The cat furiously clawed at my sleeves. Snapping. Crying. Hissing with such anger.

  Judy grabbed the cat. Tossed him over her shoulder. And hurried out of the room, holding him like a big bag of laundry.

  “Ohhhh.” I let out a groan.

  I struggled slowly to my feet. My whole body trembled.

  “I never saw Plumper do that before!” Jilly declared, taking my arm.

  Jackie hurried over to me. “Are you okay? Maggie? Are you cut?”

  I checked myself out. My clothes were covered in orange fur. “I-I guess I’m all right,” I said shakily.

  “You have a small scratch on your hand,” Jackie reported, checking me out. “But he didn’t break the skin.”

  “Stupid, crazy cat,” Jilly muttered. She started to pull clumps of fur off me.

  Judy returned, shaking her head, pulling cat fur off her sweater. “I had to lock him in the back. That was so weird!”

  “He’s never done anything like that before,” Jilly said. “He’s always just fat, lazy, and contented.”

  “So why did he go berserk and attack Maggie like that?” Judy asked, her voice trembling.

  Jackie’s dark eyes lit up. “Because Maggie is evil!” she declared. “EVIL!”

  Her two sisters laughed.

  But I didn’t think it was funny.

  “I’m not evil!” I protested shrilly. “That cat is evil!”

  “I’ll keep him away from you from now on,” Judy promised, biting her bottom lip. “I—I don’t know what made him do that. He just went … nuts. It’s so weird. So weird …”

  I turned and saw Jackie staring at me, studying me intently. “What are you thinking?” I demanded.

  She blinked. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

  I left their house a few minutes later. I didn’t feel like eating pizza anymore. I kept picturing the slice with the orange fur stuck in the sauce.

  The night air had cooled off a bit, but it still felt heavy and damp. Yellow-gray clouds covered the sky, hiding the moon and stars.

  I still felt shaky as I turned toward my house. My shoes scraped the sidewalk as I walked, the only sound except for the soft whisper of the trees.

  That was so horrifying! I thought. The cat always sat in my lap before. Why did it decide to attack me tonight?

  “Because you’re EVIL!” Jackie had said.

  It wasn’t funny. It was so totally insane.

  I’m not evil. I’ve never done anything evil. In fact, I’m the least evil person I know!

  Jackie is more evil than I am, I told myself. She is. She definitely has a mean sense of humor.

  Rigging Glen’s Tarzan costume like that. Embarrassing him in front of the whole school. Pretending she was going to force me to get a tattoo tonight.

  That’s really evil.

  Well … no.

  I changed my mind. It’s not evil. It’s … mischievous, that’s all.

  Was tonight another one of Jackie’s “mischievous” jokes? I wondered. Did she pay Miss Elizabeth to say those things about me? Jackie swore she didn’t.

  I thought about the fortune-teller. Pictured her solemn face again, leaning into the red glow of her crystal ball.

  Why did she say I was evil? Why did she say that about me?

  Why did she pick me?

  Ask her, I thought. Just ask her, Maggie.

  Make her explain. Then you’ll never have to think about it again.

  I stopped at the corner. A car rolled past, music blaring from the open window. I waited for it to pass, then took a few more steps—and stopped in the middle of the street.

  My house was one block away. The carnival at the pier was four blocks in the other direction.

  Go ahead, I urged myself. Go to the carnival. Get it out of your mind for good.

  “Okay, I’m going,” I whispered. I turned and started toward the pier.

  I’m going to tell Miss Elizabeth how cruel that was, I decided. I’m going to tell her that she ruined my birthday with that lame act.

  Another car rolled past, this one filled with teenagers. A boy yelled something out the window. I ignored him and kept walking.

  I stopped under a streetlamp to check my watch. A little before midnight. My mom would probably kill me if she knew I was walking around by myself this late.

  “Hey, I’m thirteen now,” I said out loud. “I’m not a kid.”

  The carnival was probably closing down. I hoped Miss Elizabeth was still there. I began to feel angrier and angrier. People go to a carnival for fun—not to be frightened or insulted.

  A strong wind came up, blowing against me, pushing me back. I leaned into it and kept going.

  I reached the pier. It was nearly deserted. A few couples were leaving the carnival, carrying armloads of stuffed-animal prizes. The ticket booth stood empty. The entrance gate was open.

  As I stepped through it, all of the lights dimmed. I blinked in the sudden darkness.

  An empty Pepsi can rattled over the ground in a gust of wind. It rolled at my feet and I jumped over it.

  The carnival music had been turned off, but the loudspeakers crackled with static. And over the sound of the static, I could hear the steady slap of water against the pier.

  Workers closed up the game booths. Most of the booths were already dark and deserted. A young man was pulling a wooden gate over the front of his booth. He looked up when he saw me walk past. “Hey—we’re closed,” he called.

  “I know,” I called back. “I’m … uh … looking for somebody.”

  The crackling static in the loudspeakers grew louder as I made my way to the end of the pier. From nearby I heard a low howl.

  An animal howl?

  The wind through the
pier planks?

  More lights flickered out. Darkness washed over me. Someone in the distance laughed, a high, cold laugh.

  I shivered. Maybe this was a mistake.

  I heard scraping footsteps behind me.

  I spun around. Just dead brown leaves, scuttling on the pier in a swirl of wind.

  The empty cars on the roller-coaster track gleamed dully in the dim light. I heard a squeaking sound. The tracks rattled as if being shaken.

  Finally the fortune-teller’s tent came into view at the end of the pier.

  I swallowed hard. My heart began to race.

  I stopped outside the entrance. The tent flap had been pulled shut. Was she in there?

  I had been rehearsing what I’d say to Miss Elizabeth. But now it all flew out of my mind.

  I’ll just ask her why she said that about me, I decided. That’s all. I’ll just ask her why.

  I took a deep breath. Then I grabbed the tent flap with both hands and pulled it open.

  “Hello?” I called in. My voice sounded tiny. “Anyone in here? Miss Elizabeth? Are you here?”

  No answer.

  I stepped inside—and let out a shocked gasp.

  One of the two lanterns remained on the tent wall, casting the only light. I spotted the other lantern, the glass cracked, on its side on the ground.

  The wooden table was overturned. A leg broken off.

  Next to it, one of the fortune-teller’s long, silky scarves lay torn and crumpled into a ball.

  The chairs—the two wooden chairs were splintered and broken. The poster of the human hand had been ripped in half.

  And the red glass ball—shattered—shards of broken glass over the tent floor. The ball—the crystal ball—smashed into a thousand pieces.

  The next day in school I tried to shut the fortune-teller out of my mind. After school there was no time to think about her. I had a dance class.

  Jilly was there, too. I watched her in awe. She is such a graceful dancer. She seems to float over the floor.

  Dancing beside her, I felt like a circus elephant.

  I can’t compete with Jilly. But I’m going to the dance tryouts anyway, I decided. It’s my dream to make that company. I’m not going to give up without trying.

  I hurried home after the class. I had piles of homework.

  It was a cool autumn day. The air smelled sweet and fresh as I jogged onto my block. I waved to some kids raking leaves on their driveway.

  I stopped short when I reached my front yard. The backpack bounced heavily on my back.

  Was I seeing things?

  Or was that really Glen pushing the power lawn mower over our front lawn?

  “Hey—!” I called to him and waved.

  He spun around. The mower roared. He cut the engine. “Maggie—what’s up?” he called.

  I ran over to him. “What are you doing?” I called. Dumb question. I felt my face grow hot and knew I was blushing.

  He wiped sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his gray jacket. “I mow all the lawns on this block,” he said. “Didn’t you ever see me?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your mom asked me to cut yours before winter comes.” He wiped his hands on his jeans legs. “The mower keeps conking out. I don’t know what its problem is.” He kicked it with his sneaker.

  It was chilly out, but he was sweating a lot. His curly hair—wild and unbrushed as always—glistened with sweat. I reached out and pulled a blade of grass off his cheek.

  “Nice house.” He pointed. “You could fit my house in there about ten times!”

  “You want to come in?” I blurted out. “I mean—if you’re thirsty or something. Come in and have a Coke or some Gatorade. When you finish mowing?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Thanks. I have another lawn to do before dark.” He bent to start the mower up. “Catch you later.”

  I hurried into the house. “He’s definitely cool,” I murmured. I stepped inside and called out, “Mom—are you home?”

  Silence.

  I never can keep her work schedule straight.

  I grabbed a can of iced tea from the fridge and made my way up to my room to start my homework. Chirpy, my canary, started chirping away as soon as I entered the room. I walked over to her cage in front of the window and rubbed her yellow feathered back with one finger.

  And peeked out at Glen down below. He was leaning over the mower handlebars, moving quickly, making stripes across the grass. “So cute,” I muttered to Chirpy. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

  The canary tilted her head to one side, trying to understand.

  I trotted to the mirror and brushed my hair. Then I put on some lip gloss and a little eye makeup.

  I decided to change. I pulled on a fresh pair of straight-leg jeans and my new white sweater.

  I could hear the hum and roar of the mower outside. Wish Glen would hurry up and finish, I thought.

  I knew I should start my homework. But I couldn’t concentrate.

  I went back to the window and watched him for a while. Then I picked up a deck of cards and started to practice a few new tricks. But I couldn’t concentrate on those, either.

  I heard voices outside. Girls’ voices.

  “Hey, Tarzan!” someone yelled.

  I dived back to the window and saw Jackie and Judy coming up the driveway. They had stopped to tease Glen.

  He just kept mowing. I could see that his face was bright red, and he was pretending to ignore them.

  “Give him a break!” I said out loud. I hurried downstairs to let them in.

  “Whoa. Way to go, Maggie. You got your boyfriend to mow the lawn!” Jackie teased.

  “Mom hired him,” I replied. “I didn’t even know—”

  “Were you in chem lab when Kenny Fields dropped the glass beaker?” Judy interrupted.

  “No. I don’t have lab on Monday,” I said.

  “It was a disaster!” she exclaimed. “It was some kind of ammonia or smelly acid—something really gross. It smelled so horrible, kids started to puke all over the place.”

  “First, one kid hurled, and then everyone was hurling,” Jackie said. “It was awesome! Like an epidemic!”

  “They had to evacuate half the school,” Judy said. “How come you didn’t know?”

  “I wasn’t there. We had a dumb field trip,” I said, rolling my eyes. “To the art museum.”

  “Why don’t you invite your boyfriend in?” Jackie asked.

  “I already did,” I told them. I could hear the mower’s roar, fainter now. Glen was nearly down to the curb.

  Jackie pushed past me and started to the stairs. “I want to try all those new cosmetics you bought at the mall.”

  Judy and I followed her. “Where’s Jilly?” I asked.

  “More dance practice,” Judy said. “She took an extra class today. She really wants to be perfect at that audition.”

  I sighed. “She already is perfect.”

  Jackie went right to my dresser. “It’s like a makeup store in here!” she declared. She started picking up jars and tubes and examining them. “This is totally cool.”

  “If you’re going to try all my makeup, you have to give me something in return,” I said.

  Jackie laughed. “Okay. I’ll give you Jilly!”

  “Ha ha,” I said. I reached out my hand. “Let me try on your necklace.”

  Jackie hesitated.

  “Just for a minute,” I said. “You’ve never let me try it on. I just want to see how it looks on me.”

  Jackie shrugged and carefully pulled off the necklace of tiny glass beads. “No magic tricks?”

  “No magic tricks,” I promised.

  She handed it to me and went back to pawing over all my new makeup.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I said, gazing into the mirror, adjusting the delicate, sparkling beads around my throat. “I’d do anything to have one just like it.”

  I caught Jackie’s smile in the mirror. “Anything?”

  “We
ll … ”

  “Maybe I’ll leave it to you in my will,” Jackie said.

  “Do you have a lot of homework?” Judy asked.

  “Tons,” I said, sighing. “I tried getting started on it when I got home. But my mind kept spinning. I couldn’t concentrate.”

  Judy stood at the birdcage, petting Chirpy. She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re not still upset about that fortune-teller, are you?”

  I laughed. “Thanks a bunch, Judy. Thanks for reminding me. I haven’t thought about that all day!”

  “You’re evil,” Jackie muttered, brushing thick, black mascara on her lashes. “You’re so evil, Maggie.”

  “Shut up,” I snapped. “That was totally dumb, and you know it. I don’t know why I let it upset me.”

  Judy opened the cage and gently lifted Chirpy out. She let the canary perch on her finger. “Plumper would love you,” Judy told the bird. “For lunch!”

  “Don’t mention that cat to me!” I cried. “That was so horrible! Your cat is a psycho!”

  Judy frowned. “I’m really sorry about that. You know, I came over to ask if you’d help me with the Pet Fair.”

  “Not if I have to go near that cat!” I said.

  “I’ll keep Plumper away,” Judy promised. “Will you help out?”

  “I guess,” I replied.

  I glanced out the window. What’s taking Glen so long? I wondered. Why doesn’t he get finished?

  Watching him moving back and forth, back and forth, I silently wished there was a way to speed up his mower.

  “Hey—!” Judy’s startled cry interrupted my thoughts. I spun around to see Chirpy fluttering in the air.

  Judy grabbed at the canary with both hands. “Come back! Come back here, birdy!”

  Chirping loudly, the canary flew up to the ceiling, hit the ceiling light, bounced off, and flew to the closet.

  Judy and I both chased after him. “Come back!” I cried. “What’s wrong with you?”

  All three of us tried to grab the flittering, fluttering bird. Each time we nearly had her, Chirpy darted out of our reach.

  At first it was kind of funny. But after ten minutes of chasing after the bird, it wasn’t funny anymore. It was just frustrating.

  “I don’t believe this!” I cried breathlessly. I made another grab for the bird—and just missed! “Chirpy—stop it! You’ve never done this before! Come back! I could kill you for this!”