Free Three Evil Wishes by R.L. Stine

I both let out happy cheers. We actually hugged each other—something we haven’t done since I was four!
    We did a happy dance of celebration. Tossing each other around. Our shoes slapping the wet mud of the lakeshore.
    I stopped dancing when I tripped over something.
    I caught my balance and gazed down.
    â€œWhat is that?” I cried.
    Jesse bent and picked it up. It was a lamp. A strangely shaped brass lamp.
    â€œWeird,” Jesse murmured, holding it up close to his face with both hands.
    â€œIt’s like those magic lamps in fairy tales,” I told him. “You know. The kind you rub, and you get three wishes. And . . .”
    â€œNo, Jesse!” I cried. “No— don’t! What are you doing? Don’t rub it! DON’T! DON’T RUB IT!”
    Too late.

Are you ready for another walk down Fear Street?
    Turn the page for a terrifying sneak preview.

    SPELL OF THE
SCREAMING JOKERS

W hen Max finished dealing, we picked up our hands.
    â€œHave fun, kids!” Mrs. Davidson said, and she left the room.
    I studied my cards one at a time. Two of clubs. Six of hearts. Three of diamonds. Jack of clubs.
    A horrible scream split the air!
    I jumped.
    Frankie dropped his cards to the floor.
    â€œFrankie!” I exclaimed, startled. “What’s wrong?”
    Frankie’s eyes stared, wide open.
    His jaw dropped.
    And he let out the most horrifying scream I’d ever heard.
    â€œFrankie!” I cried out again. “What’s wrong! Tell us—what’s wrong!”
    Frankie turned to me—and the screaming stopped. Stopped suddenly, as if a knife sliced it off mid-scream.
    Mrs. Davidson ran into Max’s room. “What happened?” she cried. “Is someone hurt?”
    We shook our heads.
    â€œWho screamed?” she asked.
    â€œFrankie did,” Louisa told her.
    â€œNo, I didn’t,” Frankie said.
    â€œYes, you did!” Louisa exclaimed. “Your mouth was wide open. We all heard you. Screaming like a maniac.”
    â€œI wasn’t screaming,” Frankie said flatly.
    â€œYeah, right,” I said. “You nearly burst my eardrums. You dropped your cards—then you started screaming.”
    â€œI . . . wasn’t . . . screaming,” Frankie said slowly. “I dropped my cards because of—because of the joker.”
    Frankie glanced under the table. I followed his gaze.
    There his cards lay—all facedown. All but one. All but the joker.
    The joker—it was like no joker we had ever seen.
    It had huge round eyes that bulged right out of their sockets. Hideous eyes! I felt as if they could see me!
    Its bright red lips curved up in a crooked, evil smile.
    It wore a floppy green cap with three silver bells on the top.
    In its hand, the joker held a stick. On the top of the stick sat a skull. A skull with eyes that glowed like hot coals!
    I started to turn away—when the joker’s face began to move!
    Its eyeballs darted left and right! First it peered at me. Then it glared at Louisa. Then Jeff.
    The joker’s eyeballs came to rest on Frankie. Its mouth twisted open—in a grin full of yellow, jagged teeth.
    The joker flapped its big ears. It rattled its stick—and the skull’s eyes flashed sparks!
    I stared in horror. I couldn’t speak.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Max’s mom asked. “What are you looking at?”
    At the sound of her voice, the joker’s ugly face froze.
    Had it really moved?
    Or had I imagined it?
    I glanced at my friends. Had they seen it move?
    I couldn’t tell. They were all staring at the door. At Max’s mom as she entered the room.
    Mrs. Davidson picked up the card. “What a horrible card!” she cried. She gathered up the other cards from the floor.
    â€œLet me have all the cards, kids,” she said. “I’ll check to make sure there aren’t any more jokers. How in the world did this