My Name Is Evil Page 4

  “Whoa. Don’t say that!” Jackie declared. “Wouldn’t you feel terrible if you said that and then Chirpy died?”

  “I didn’t mean it. It’s just a stupid expression,” I said. I stopped to catch my breath.

  And Chirpy flew into her cage.

  Judy slammed the cage door shut. “Gotcha!”

  I was still breathing hard. I suddenly realized I still had Jackie’s necklace around my neck. I took it off and handed it to her.

  “Why don’t we go down to the kitchen—” I started to say. But that’s as far as I got. Because we all heard a scream of alarm from outside.

  I dived to the window with Judy and Jackie right behind me. Peering out, I saw Glen chasing after his lawn mower. The mower was zigzagging wildly, roaring away from him. He was running after it full speed, shouting his head off.

  My heart pounding, I shoved open the window. “Glen—!” I called. “What’s happening?”

  I don’t think he could hear me over the roar of the mower.

  He lunged forward and grabbed the handle. But the mower jerked away from him.

  “Hey—helllp!” he shouted.

  Jackie and Judy both giggled beside me. But I could see that Glen was really struggling, and very upset.

  He grabbed the mower handle again and held on for dear life. But the mower roared forward, digging deep holes in the lawn.

  Glen tried frantically to pull it to a stop. But the mower zigzagged crazily, out of control, pulling Glen with it.

  I slapped my hands to my ears as the mower shot into a tree with a deafening crash. It hit so hard, the whole tree shook.

  I saw Glen hit the ground. He landed on his back.

  And then over the roaring whine of the mower, I heard Glen’s horrified shriek:

  “My foot! IT CUT OFF MY FOOT!”

  “Nooooo!” I let out a scream and pushed away from the window.

  All three of us went flying down the stairs—and out to the front yard.

  “Glen—are you okay?” I screamed.

  He was sitting on the grass, hunched over. He had his shoe off and was rubbing his left foot with both hands. As we ran down to him, the mower rocked against the tree, sputtered, and died.

  “Your foot—?” I gasped.

  “Sorry. I panicked a little,” he said softly. “It’s just a small cut. It hurt so much, I thought—”

  “False alarm,” Jackie said. “You scared us to death!”

  “But what happened?” Judy asked.

  “Beats me,” Glen replied. “I don’t understand it at all.”

  “Did you turn up the speed or something?” Judy asked.

  He shook his head. “It just took off. It was so … freaky! It … it’s impossible! Lawn mowers aren’t built to go that fast!”

  He carefully slipped his shoe on and climbed to his feet. He took a few steps, testing his foot. “It’s okay,” he said.

  He wiped sweat off his forehead, then raised his eyes to the mower. It had shot into the tree so hard, it left a deep gash in the tree trunk.

  “Wow,” Glen muttered. “Weird.”

  He made his way to the mower and wrapped his hands around the handles. He pulled it slowly off the tree. Then he turned to me. “Tell your mom I’m sorry, okay? The mower made a real mess here.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell her,” I said. “But—”

  “Tell her I’ll get the mower fixed and come back.” He started to push it to the driveway.

  “Don’t you want to come in for a minute?” I asked. “Get something to drink?”

  He pushed back his bushy hair. “No. I’d better get this thing home so my dad can look at it. Maybe he can figure out why it went berserk. See you.”

  I watched Glen push the mower down the driveway to the sidewalk. Then I turned and followed Jackie and Judy back into the house.

  As we stepped inside, Jackie snickered.

  “That was so scary!” I said. “What’s so funny?”

  Jackie’s eyes flashed. “I thought you liked Glen, Maggie. Did you use your evil powers on his lawn mower?” She laughed.

  “Stop it!” I cried angrily. “I mean it, Jackie. Stop saying that! You know I don’t have evil powers! So stop it! It isn’t funny!”

  Her eyes went wide. I could see she was surprised by how angry I got.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it. I was only joking. Really. I was just trying to lighten up—”

  “Well, don’t!” I interrupted.

  She put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll never mention it again. Promise.”

  We made our way back upstairs. The window was still open, and a cold wind filled my bedroom. The curtains fluttered and flapped.

  I moved to close the window, but stopped halfway across the room.

  A tiny yellow feather floated in the air in front of me.

  I turned. And stared at the birdcage.

  Stared at Chirpy. Stared at my canary, lying so still … so still.

  Dead on her side on the floor of the cage.

  When I got over the shock, Judy helped me wrap the poor little bird in tissue paper. I carried him out behind the garage. Jackie dug a shallow hole in the soft dirt back there. And we buried Chirpy.

  We stood silently, staring down at the little grave. All three of us felt weird. Especially Judy, who loves animals so much.

  Jackie kept her promise and didn’t say anything about evil powers. I think we were all thinking the same thing. When I was chasing Chirpy around the room, I shouted, “I could kill you for this.”

  And a few minutes later the little canary lay stiff and dead.

  But no one believed that I was really responsible. And for once, Jackie didn’t joke about it.

  The afternoon sun began to set behind the trees. I shivered as the air grew colder. Fat brown leaves fell from the trees, scattering over the freshly cut lawn.

  My friends and I were returning to the house when I saw Mom’s brown Taurus pull up the driveway. Jackie and Judy lingered behind, but I went running to meet the car.

  “What are you three doing out here without jackets?” Mom asked. She climbed out of the car and straightened the skirt of her white nurse’s uniform. “And what happened to the front lawn? Why is it so torn up?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, sighing.

  As we walked into the house, I told her about Chirpy and about Glen and his runaway lawn mower.

  Mom tsk-tsked. She dropped her pocketbook onto the kitchen counter and gazed at me. “That’s so strange about Chirpy,” she said. “The bird was only a year old.”

  Jackie hoisted her backpack off the floor. “Judy and I should be going. It’s getting late.”

  “I have tons of homework, too,” Judy said to me. “It’s like they all piled it on today.”

  “I guess the bird got overexcited, flying around your room like that,” Mom said. She tossed her coat on a kitchen stool. “Probably had a heart attack.”

  She carried the teakettle to the sink and filled it with water. “Sure you girls don’t want to stay and have something hot to drink?”

  “No. Thanks. We really have to go,” Jackie said.

  I followed them to the front.

  We were passing the bookshelves in the front hallway when Jackie suddenly stopped. She stooped down and examined the bottom shelf of books. “Whoa. Maggie—what’s this?”

  “Huh?” I knelt down beside her to see what had caught her eye. The shelf was filled with old books, the covers frayed and faded. “What about them—?” I started to ask.

  But then I read some of the titles. And I saw what the old books were about. Witchcraft … the Dark Arts … Magic … and the Occult.

  “I—I’ve never noticed these down here before,” I said.

  Jackie stared hard at me.

  “Big deal,” I said sharply. “So, it’s a bunch of old books. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Jackie shrugged. Then she climbed quickly to her feet and gave Judy a shove toward the fron
t door. “Call you after dinner,” she said.

  “Bye,” Judy said. “Sorry about your canary. She was sweet.”

  I closed the front door after them and turned to find Mom in the hallway.

  “Mom, can I ask you something?” I said. I knew it was crazy and stupid. I knew it was totally ridiculous. But the question just popped out of my mouth.

  “Mom, am I weird? Do I have some kind of evil powers?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. She took a breath. “Well … yes,” she said finally. “Yes, you do.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. I could feel my heart skip a beat.

  “Yes,” Mom said. “And every night after you go to sleep, I take out my broomstick and fly to Cleveland!”

  She laughed.

  I just stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

  She wrapped her hand tenderly around the back of my neck, the way she used to do when I was little. “Maggie, why on earth would you ask such a crazy question?”

  I swallowed hard. “Well …” I hesitated. Then I figured I might as well go ahead and explain.

  So I told her about the fortune-teller at the carnival and about how Jackie had been teasing me ever since. And how Judy’s cat suddenly attacked me for no reason.

  “You know you’re perfectly normal, Maggie,” Mom said. “You know you’re not a witch or anything.”

  “I know, Mom, but—”

  “Besides, if you have these evil powers, why didn’t you use them before?” Mom asked. “Why did you start two nights ago? You went thirteen years, and now all of a sudden you’re evil?”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know why that woman at the carnival got me so upset.”

  “She was just having her little joke,” Mom said. “What happened to your sense of humor, Maggie? You’ve gotten very serious lately. You’ve got to lighten up.”

  I started to agree again. But then the bottom shelf of books caught my eye. “Mom—” I pointed. “Those books …”

  Mom sighed. She squeezed my neck again. “I wrote my senior paper on strange beliefs. I told you that. Remember? I’ve had those old books since college.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Now I really felt stupid. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll never mention the whole thing again. I knew it was dumb. But—”

  My phone rang upstairs in my room. “I’d better get that. Call me for dinner,” I said, and I hurtled up the stairs two at a time.

  I grabbed the phone after the third ring, and panted, “Hello?”

  It was Jackie on the other end of the line, and she sounded frantic. “My necklace—” she choked out. “You forgot to give it back.”

  “Huh? No,” I protested. “I handed it to you. Don’t you remember?”

  “You couldn’t have returned it!” she screeched. “I don’t have it!”

  “Calm down, Jackie,” I said softly. “I know I gave it to you. Let’s try to think—”

  “I don’t have it!” Jackie repeated shrilly. “It’s not in my coat or in my backpack. It’s got to be somewhere in your room, Maggie. Look for it—okay? Look for it.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I turned and glanced quickly around my room. No necklace on the dresser … the bed … the desk …

  I tried to picture Jackie as she left the house. She was wearing the necklace. I was sure she had it around her neck.

  “I—I don’t see it,” I told her. “You were wearing it. I know you were.”

  “Find it!” Jackie shrieked. “You’ve got to find it! Find it, Maggie—please!”

  The next morning at school between classes, I ran into Glen. “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Gym,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Spanish.” I yawned. “How’s your foot?”

  “It’s okay.” He grinned. “I was lucky. I still have all six toes!”

  We bumped through the crowd. Cedar Bay Middle School is too small. Between classes the halls look like cattle stampedes.

  I yawned again. “Sorry. I stayed up past midnight doing homework.” I shook my head. “I’m in great shape for the dance tryouts tonight. I’ll probably yawn in the judges’ faces.”

  Glen shifted his backpack on his shoulders. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “Even though I know I don’t stand much of a chance. Jilly is so much better than me. She’s an awesome dancer.”

  Glen nodded thoughtfully. Then he reached out and solemnly shook my hand. “Good luck,” he said. “Break a leg.”

  I laughed. “I think you say that to actors. I don’t think that’s the right thing to say to a dancer.”

  He turned the corner and gave me a little wave. “Catch you later.”

  I followed the crowd, thinking about the dance tryout. Why am I even bothering? I asked myself.

  I answered my own question: Because it’s the new, bold me.

  I vowed on my birthday that I would change. That I wouldn’t be so shy, so timid. That I would go after what I really wanted.

  And that’s why I had no choice. I had to go to that dance audition after dinner.

  I turned a corner and headed to the stairs. I was on the second floor. My Spanish class was in the language lab on the first floor.

  I grabbed the railing and started down the steep, tile stairs. I had only taken a step or two when I spotted Jilly halfway down the stairs.

  Suddenly I had the strangest feeling. My arms started to tingle. My hands felt all prickly, as if they’d fallen asleep. And then my hands started to burn. They were burning hot.

  I tried to ignore it. “Hey, Jilly—!” I called. But she didn’t hear me. I elbowed my way through the students.

  “Jilly.” I tapped her lightly on the shoulder—and I saw her hands fly up like two birds taking flight.

  Then I saw her shoes slide off the step.

  And I saw her eyes go wide and her mouth pull open. Her shrill scream rang through the stairwell.

  And she fell. Fell forward. Her hair flying behind her.

  Jilly swooped straight down. Down … down … bumping the hard tile stairs.

  Thud … thud … thud … thud …

  Screaming all the way down.

  She landed hard. I saw her head bounce against the floor.

  She uttered one last groan.

  And then she didn’t move.

  My knees started to crumple. I gripped the railing to hold myself up.

  “Nooooo!” I wailed. “Jilly? Jilly—?”

  She lay sprawled on her stomach at the bottom of the stairs, one arm tucked under her body, the other straight out. Her hair had come loose and spread over her head, hiding her face like a furry yellow blanket.

  “Jilly—? Jilly—?” I shouted her name as I ran down the stairs.

  She raised her head off the floor. “Why … why did you push me?” she choked out.

  “Huh? I didn’t push you!” I cried. “I just tapped you!”

  Jilly pulled herself to a sitting position. She had a cut on her shoulder. It was bleeding through her white top.

  Her eyes remained locked on me. “Yes, you did. You pushed me, Maggie.”

  “No—!” I cried. Some kids had stopped to help Jilly. Now they were all staring at me. “No. I didn’t touch you. You know I wouldn’t push you. I—I called out, and then—”

  She rubbed her sweater, feeling the dampness of the blood. “You—you’re lying. I felt your hand on my back. You shoved me. I felt you shove me, Maggie.”

  “N-no,” I protested. “I swear. I didn’t touch you. You just fell.”

  Everyone stared hard at me now. I could feel their accusing eyes.

  Why didn’t they just go away? Why didn’t they all go to class?

  I turned and saw that Jilly’s leg was cut too.

  “Hey—!” I cried. “Your shoelace. Jilly—look. Your shoelace is untied.”

  She groaned and rubbed her side. “Huh?” She squinted at her shoe.

  “See?” I said. “That must be it. That must be what happened. You trippe
d over your shoelace.”

  “You shoved me,” she insisted. “I felt you push me. You could have killed me, Maggie. Does the dance tryout mean that much to you? You could have killed me!”

  “No,” I repeated, shaking my head. “No, no, no.”

  We were such good friends. Why was she accusing me?

  I didn’t push her. I know I didn’t.

  After school I hurried over to the Mullens’ house to see if Jilly was okay.

  Judy answered the door. “Oh. It’s you!” She seemed surprised to see me.

  “Is Jilly here?” I asked, following her into the den. “Is she okay?”

  The TV was on—some talk show with all the guests screaming at each other. Judy clicked it off.

  “Jilly is still at the doctor,” Judy said, plopping down on the green leather couch. “She’s getting her ankle taped.”

  “She—she didn’t break it—did she?” I asked.

  Judy shook her head. “Just a sprain. She’ll probably be able to try out tonight.”

  I let out a long, relieved sigh and dropped into the armchair across from Judy. “I’m so glad she’s okay,” I said. And then my voice shook: “She—she accused me of pushing her down the stairs. But that’s crazy!”

  Judy brushed back her short hair. Her eyes were locked on me, studying me intently.

  “I didn’t push her,” I said. “I didn’t bump into her, or anything.”

  I held my breath, waiting for Judy to reply.

  Finally she said, “Even if you did bump her, it had to be an accident.” She tucked her slender legs beneath her on the couch. “I know you’d never deliberately try to hurt her.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I’m so glad you believe me. If only—”

  I stopped when I heard the front door slam. Jackie came running into the room. Her mouth dropped open when she saw me. “You’re here!”

  I turned in the chair. “Yes, I—”

  “Did you find it?” Jackie demanded breathlessly. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Did you find my necklace?”

  “No,” I said. “I searched everywhere. I turned the whole house upside down.”