Free My Name Is Evil by R.L. Stine Page B

Maggie,” she said. “Mom won’t let us have any of this stuff.”
    I tore open the pretzel bag and pulled out a handful. “The new stuff is in the top drawer,” I told her.
    â€œYesss!” Jackie cried happily.
    She pulled open the top dresser drawer. Began to paw inside. And then I saw her expression change.
    Her smile faded. Her eyes bulged.
    She gripped the sides of the drawer with both hands.
    And opened her mouth in a horrified scream.
    â€œJackie—! What is it? What is it?” I shrieked.

Jackie let out another high scream.
    Her face distorted—in horror, in shock—she reached into the drawer.
    â€œJackie—?” I cried.
    I heard a clattering sound.
    She lifted something from the drawer and spun around to show it to me. Raising it in front of her, shaking it, her face wild with fury.
    Her beaded necklace!
    â€œYou did take it!” she shrieked. “You’re a liar, Maggie! You are evil!”
    I stared at the shiny beads, glittering, trembling in her raised hand. A wave of nausea rolled over me.
    I felt sick. So sick.
    â€œJackie—listen to me!” I shrieked. “I don’t know how that got there. You’ve got to listen to me!”
    I dived across the room.
    But she dodged to the side, angrily scooting away from me.
    Gripping the necklace tightly in one hand, she raised her other hand and pointed at me. “Evil,” she muttered. “Evil.”
    My hands burned again. And my arms tingled.
    I stared in horror at Jackie’s finger, jerking in the air, pointing, accusing me.
    And as I stared, Jackie’s finger suddenly tilted up. Up—and then back.
    â€œHey—!” Jackie let out a startled cry as the finger bent back … back … back …
    â€œStop it, Maggie!” she pleaded. “It hurts! Stop it!”
    Back … back …
    And then the finger snapped.
    The finger made a sick snapping sound. The sound of cracking bone.
    Jackie was screaming now, her eyes bulging, her mouth gaping in howls of pain.
    I screamed too, pressing my burning hands against the sides of my face.
    The crack of her finger repeated in my ears, again and again.
    And then, holding her hand high, Jackie lurched out into the hall. She went flying down the stairs, hurtling them two at a time.
    â€œPlease! Listen to me!” I pleaded.
    She jerked open the front door. She didn’t turn around. She leaped off the front stoop and ran full speed down our gravel driveway. Gravel flew under her shoes.
    â€œJackie—stop!” I screamed.
    She let out a cry as she fell. Stumbled on the stones of the driveway and sprawled face forward. She landed hard on her knees and elbows. Her backpack thudded away from her.
    â€œJackie—” I ran after her.
    But she was on her feet. Hair flying wildly around her flaming red face.
    â€œJackie—come back!” I begged.
    But she scooped up her backpack with her good hand. Then, trembling, she turned furiously to me. “Leave us alone, Maggie!” she shrieked. “Leave my family alone! You’ve done enough! Just leave us alone!”
    I slumped to the ground. I buried my face in my hands. My whole body was shaking.
    I took a deep breath and struggled
to stop the powerful shudders. When I uncovered my face, Jackie was gone.
    For a moment I thought it had all been a bad dream. Some kind of frightening nightmare.
    I’m going to wake up in bed, I thought. And none of this will have happened.
    But no. Here I was on the front stoop. The front door wide open behind me. Awake. Wide awake.
    I climbed to my feet and made my way back up to my room. The top dresser drawer stood open. I slammed it shut with an angry cry. Then I threw myself down on my bed and buried my head in the pillow.
    How did that necklace get in there? I asked myself. How?
    Why did Jackie’s finger snap back like that?
    Why are these things happening?
    Jilly was back in school on Friday. She walked