Free Spell of the Screaming Jokers by R.L. Stine Page A

skull-stick.
    â€œRun!” Max cried.
    We charged through the circle and ran back to Max’s room.
    We slammed the door behind us.
    â€œWe made it!” Louisa exclaimed. “We got past the jokers!”
    Jeff frowned. “It was too easy. They let us run back here.”
    Jeff had a point.
    Of course the jokers wanted us in this room. It had no outside door. There was no way out. We were trapped!
    â€œWhat do we do now?” I croaked.
    â€œWe wait,” Max said.
    â€œWait?” I cried. “For what? For the jokers to show up?”
    â€œExactly.” Max calmly held a stack of cards in his hand. He ran his thumb over the edges.
    â€œOhhh!” I groaned.
    Why had I trusted Max?
    He played cards for Mrs. Davidson.
    He helped her trap kids. Trap us!
    And we had just let him trap us again!

27

    O utside Max’s room I heard the hissing start.
    Max glanced toward the door. I lunged for him.
    I tried to grab the cards out of his hand.
    â€œStop, Brittany!” Max cried. He twisted away from me. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
    I could hardly hear him over the horrible rattling skulls.
    The jokers stormed into the room. I clapped my hands over my ears. Their crazed laughter was like thunder.
    They laughed and laughed. And why not? They had us right where they wanted us.
    â€œYou!” Max called. He was talking to a joker. The joker with the toothy grin.
    Max held the joker’s card up.
    As the joker glanced at himself on the card, Max turned the card sideways and ripped it in half.
    Instantly the joker’s skull-stick turned into mist—then vanished into thin air.
    His face began to droop. Melt.
    I turned to Max. “Wh-what’s going on?” I stammered.
    Max didn’t answer. His eyes remained glued to the joker.
    I turned back—and gasped.
    The joker’s face wasn’t melting. It was—changing. Changing into the face of a boy.
    His nose, his cheeks, his chin, all began to take on a new form. He was beginning to look like a regular boy.
    I watched in awe as his horrible red eyes turned a normal shade of blue. As his teeth shrank to a regular size.
    Suddenly the rattling of skulls filled the room.
    The other jokers!
    I had forgotten about them!
    They shrieked loudly—and charged at us.
    â€œMax—quick! The other jokers!” I shouted.
    Max shoved some joker cards in my hand. Louisa and Jeff grabbed some too.
    â€œMake sure they’re looking at the card when you rip it!” Max cried.
    We ripped our cards—and all the jokers turned back into kids. All but one.
    I held the last joker card in my hand.
    Frankie’s joker card.
    I held it up.
    The joker that was Frankie darted around the room—shrieking madly.
    â€œHey, Frankie,” I shouted. “Look!”
    The joker turned my way.
    I held up the card—and ripped it in half.
    The joker’s face began to change.
    In moments Frankie was back.
    *  *  *
    All the kids who had been jokers thanked us for helping them. They called their parents, and we waited for them to arrive to take them home.
    Finally a couple with blond hair and pale blue eyes hurried up Mrs. Davidson’s walk. Max zoomed out of the house. I think the three of them broke the record for the world’s longest hug.
    â€œThanks, Brittany,” Max said before he left. “You sure know how to stack a deck.”
    â€œThank you , Max,” I told him. “You sure know how to play your cards right!”

28

    T he next night Frankie called me. I stretched across my bed talking to him.
    â€œYou know what, Brit?” Frankie asked. “Jeff and I went over to Mrs. Marder’s after school today. Jeff had to deliver some groceries.” He coughed, sounding embarrassed. “I thought maybe I should apologize to her. You know. For the birdbath and stuff.”
    â€œYou’re kidding!” I exclaimed.
    â€œNope. Anyhow,” Frankie