My Name Is Evil

by R. L. Stine

  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.

  “Please! 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.

  “Jackie—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.

  “Jackie—” I ran after her.

  But she was on her feet. Hair flying wildly around her flaming red face.

  “Jackie—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 on crutches. She had a cast on her foot.

  She wouldn’t talk to me.

  Jackie wouldn’t talk to me, either. She and Jilly turned their backs whenever I came near.

  I felt so upset, I could barely speak.

  “Give them time,” Judy told me. “They’re totally upset now. But they’ll come around, Maggie. They’ll realize there’s no such thing as evil powers.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m still your friend. And I know you would never do anything to hurt us.”

  Judy cheered me up a little. But word about my so-called evil got around school quickly.

  In the lunchroom at noon kids were staring at me. I passed a table of laughing girls—and they all stopped laughing when I came near.

  Carrying my lunch tray, I searched for an empty seat. The whole lunchroom grew quiet. An unnatural hush.

  Everyone stared at me. Everyone hoped I wouldn’t sit next to them.

  I tried to talk to some guys I always kid around with. But they ignored me and leaned across the table to talk to each other.

  They’re all shutting me out, I realized to my horror.

  They’re all afraid of me. They all believe the rumors. That I’m weird. That I have powers. That I’m evil.

  Overnight I’ve become an outcast. A freak.

  I sat down by myself in the far corner and set down my food tray. Kids kept glancing at me, then quickly looked away.

  Near the front I saw the Three J’s at a table with a couple of guys. Jilly’s crutches were propped against the side of the table. She sat at the end so that she could stretch out the leg in a cast.

  Jackie said something, and everyone else at the table laughed. Then Jackie and Judy started arguing about something, a playful argument. More laughter.

  None of them looked my way.

  I couldn’t touch my food. My stomach felt hard and tight, like a solid rock. It took all my strength to keep from breaking down and crying my eyes out.

  I can’t just sit here by myself for the rest of the school year, I told myself.

  I can’t let everyone in school think I’m some kind of evil freak.

  I know I’m not evil. I know I have no strange powers of any kind. No powers at all.

  Now I have to prove it to my friends. I have to prove to my friends that I’m just me, just the same normal me they’ve always known.

  But how? How can I prove it to them?

  I stared at the three sisters across the room, laughing and enjoying their lunch. I stared hard at them, thinking … thinking …

  And suddenly I had an idea.

  I left my food behind, took a deep breath, and crossing my arms tightly in front of me, I walked over to the three sisters’ table. “I want to talk to you,” I said. My voice came out tight and tense, almost like a growl.

  Jackie swallowed a bite of her sandwich, then stared down at the cast on her hand. “Maggie, please go away,” she said softly.

  “No,” I insisted. “I want to show you something.”

  Jilly stared at her food. Jackie scowled at me. “I asked you nicely,” she said. “Please don’t bother us.”

  “I—I’m going to prove that you’re wrong about me,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself tighter to stop my trembling. “We’ve been friends for a long time. You owe it to me. Just give me two minutes to prove to you that you’re wrong.”

  Jackie kept scowling, her face growing redder and redder. But I stared her down.

  “Two minutes?” she said finally.

  I nodded. “Yes. Two minutes. I’m going to prove to all of you that I have no powers. That fortune-teller was crazy. I’m totally normal. I’m not a witch, and I’m going to prove it.”

  “Give her a chance,” Judy said. “Come on. Give her a chance.”

  “Can I sit down?” I asked.

  Jackie nodded. “Go ahead. Two minutes. We’ll give you two minutes. Then do you promise you won’t do any more horrible things to me and my sisters?”

  I pulled out the chair and slid into it. “I haven’t done anything to you,” I said.

  “How are you going to prove it?” Judy asked.

  I turned to watch the lunch line. I saw Marci pick up her food tray and carry it to the cash register to pay.

  “See Marci over there?” I asked, pointing.

  The three sisters turned their heads to look at her.

  “I’m going to concentrate on her as hard as I can,” I told them. “I’ll try to make her stumble and drop her lunch tray. I’ll concentrate all my powers. And you’ll see. Nothing will happen.”

  Jilly laughed. “That’s so stupid!” she sneered.

  Jackie shook her head. “We’re not idiots, Maggie. We know what you’ll do. You’ll only pretend to concentrate. You can make Marci trip if you want to—but you won’t do it. You’ll pretend. You’ll fake the whole thing.”

  “Anyone can say they’re concentrating when they’re not,” Jilly added. “It’s no kind of test at all.”

  “But I promise!” I said. I placed my hand over my heart. “I swear it! I swear I’ll concentrate as hard as I can to make Marci trip. Believe me. Please—believe me. There she goes. Watch. She won’t trip. She won’t—because I have no powers.”

  Balancing the tray in both hands, Marci moved away from the cash register. She gazed around the crowded room, looking for a friend to sit with.

  I narrowed my eyes on her. Concentrated … concentrated all my energy. And my hands started to burn. I felt tingling up and down my arms. And my hands … my hands felt as if they were on fire.

  It’s happening again, I realized. Is it some kind of power? Some kind of force flowing through me—a force so powerful it burns?

  My hands smoldered as if I were holding them on a stove burner. The pain throbbed up my arms.

  I turned away from Marci. Don’t look at her,
I thought. If you don’t look at her, nothing bad will happen.

  I grabbed a cold can of soda from the table. I gripped it tightly, wrapped my burning hands around it, trying to cool them off.

  But my hands grew hotter.

  I stared hard at the soda, willing my hands to cool down.

  I stared at the soda so I wouldn’t look at Marci.

  But my eyes lifted. They bored into Marci. No! No! I thought. Don’t look at her!

  I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t.

  I tried to shut my eyes, but they wouldn’t close.

  Marci took three steps toward the tables—and stumbled over her own feet.

  She let out a startled cry—and her tray went flying.

  She fell and landed hard on her stomach. The tray clattered to the floor beside her, plates bouncing, food spilling, her apple juice overturned, puddling over the floor.

  I uttered a horrified cry. Turned to see Jilly and Jackie glaring at me, their faces twisted in shock, in fear.

  Before I could say anything, I heard another loud cry from the back of the lunchroom. I turned in time to see a boy crossing the room with a tray. His hands flew up, and he tumbled to the floor. His tray fell, bounced once on the edge of a table, and crashed to the floor.

  Some kids laughed and cheered. But the room was mostly silent now.

  Am I doing this? I wondered, staring at my burning hot hands.

  If I am, I’ve got to stop it. I’ve got to concentrate on stopping it.

  Stop! I thought. Stop! I concentrated hard, repeating the word over and over in my mind. Stop! Stop!

  In front of the cash register, Cindy, a girl from one of my classes, stumbled and fell—and her food tray flew out of her hands, sailed high, and came down on her head.

  Two girls fell off their chairs. The chairs toppled over on top of them.

  More laughter. But I heard startled gasps, and a few kids were screaming.

  Stop! I thought, concentrating hard. Stop this—now!

  I let the soda drop to the floor.

  I pressed my hands against my ears as another tray crashed. A girl in the food line fell into a plate of spaghetti.

  I heard a loud groan. A boy jumped up from his chair, leaned over the table—and let out another hoarse groan, opened his mouth, and vomited his lunch onto the table.

  Screams and cries now.

  I turned and saw Jilly screaming: “Maggie—stop it! Stop it!”

  “Please—stop it!” Jackie was shrieking, too.

  Trays crashed. Food splattered over the tables, over the floor. A girl waved her hands wildly above her head. Then she jumped up and began to puke, groaning and heaving.

  Two more kids jumped up and started to vomit. Another lunch tray went sliding over the floor. Large platters of food sailed off the counter, soared into the air, and crashed against the wall, sending their contents splashing over the lunchroom.

  I saw a girl covered in tomato sauce. Kids were falling, screaming, running for the door. A boy leaned on our table. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he puked his lunch into Jilly’s lap.

  “Nooooo,” I moaned. “This isn’t happening. It isn’t …”

  “Maggie did this!” Jackie screamed.

  She jumped onto the table. She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Maggie did this! Maggie did it!”

  Kids stampeded to the doors. Others turned to stare at me.

  “She’s evil!” Jackie screamed, standing on the table, frantically pointing down at me. “Maggie is evil! Maggie did it!”

  I covered my ears, trying to force out the shrieks and groans and cries of horror. And I ran, ran out of the lunchroom, and tore through the deserted hall.

  “Maggie! Stop!” a voice called.

  I spun around. “Glen—!” I cried.

  His eyes locked on mine. “Let’s get out of here,” he said softly. “Some kids and teachers are coming after you.”

  I gasped. “You—you’re helping me?”

  He didn’t answer. He pushed the door open and guided me outside. “Come on. Run,” he whispered.

  I heard the thud of rapid footsteps behind us in the hall. I didn’t turn around to see who was coming.

  I lowered my head and started to run, following Glen across the playground. It was a gray, windy afternoon. Heavy, low clouds made it seem nearly as dark as night. Our shoes crunched over dead leaves as we ran.

  I heard shouts from the school behind us. Glen and I crossed the street and kept running.

  We didn’t stop until we were two blocks away and the school building was no longer in sight. I dropped onto the grass of someone’s front lawn, gasping for air, waiting for the pain in my side to fade.

  Glen lowered himself beside me. His face was bright red. His hair was so wild about his head, he looked as if he’d been in a hurricane!

  “I was in the lunchroom,” he said, swallowing. “It … was so weird.”

  I nodded, still struggling to catch my breath.

  “Kids said it was your fault,” Glen continued, his eyes searching mine. “They said you have evil powers or something.”

  I snickered bitterly. “Do you believe them? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

  He swallowed again and brushed back his hair with one hand. “Yeah. I guess I am. A little.” He lowered his eyes. “But I saw you needed help. So …”

  I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for sticking with me,” I whispered.

  He looked embarrassed. He pulled his hand away quickly. “What happened back there, Maggie?”

  I shook my head unhappily. “I—I don’t really know. I don’t know if it was my fault or not. I wanted to show Jilly and Jackie that they were wrong about me. But then …” My voice trailed off.

  My brain was doing flip-flops. I felt dizzy. And so confused.

  Glen was still studying me intently. “Do you really have powers?”

  “I—I don’t know!” I screamed. I didn’t mean to scream. It just burst out of me. I jumped to my feet. “I don’t know! Stop asking me questions!”

  My head felt about to explode. I spun away from Glen and took off.

  I saw the startled expression on his face. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t explain to him what had just happened in the lunchroom. I couldn’t explain it to myself!

  I had to get away from him, too. I had to go somewhere and think.

  I couldn’t go back to school. At least, not until things calmed down. And I couldn’t go home. Mom would probably be there—and how could I explain?

  So I kept running … running in a daze. Ignoring the ache in my side from running so hard. Ignoring the pictures of horror from the lunchroom that played over and over in my mind.

  A loud wail of a car horn snapped me from a daze. I heard the squeal of brakes and saw the red car swerve—and realized I had run into the street without even looking.

  “Are you crazy?” The young man in the driver’s seat swung a fist out the window at me. “Want to get killed?”

  “Sorry,” I called as he roared away.

  I shut my eyes. Close call, I thought.

  But somehow the shock of the close call had calmed me down. I had stopped trembling. My heart no longer thudded against my chest.

  Where am I? I wondered.

  The heavy clouds seemed to lower over me. Squinting into the darkening light, I saw that I was only a block from the Cedar Bay Mall.

  In the middle of the afternoon the mall would be a safe place to sit down and think, I told myself. Everyone I knew was in school. I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone there.

  I’ll find a quiet place to sit down, and I’ll try to figure this all out, I decided.

  I’ll try to figure out a way to talk to Mom about what happened. I’ll force her to tell me the truth about myself.

  Mom lied before. I know she did.

  I can’t kid myself anymore. I have to admit to myself that I do have powers. I’ve been denying it, denying it, de
nying it.

  But after the scene in the lunchroom, I know better.

  I caused those people to trip, those lunch trays to fly. I caused those kids to be sick. My evil thoughts caused it all. I can’t deny it any longer.

  What am I going to do? I wondered, feeling my panic start to return. I couldn’t stop what was happening. I tried to stop it—but it was out of control.

  How will I have a normal life? How will I ever have any friends?

  I waited for the traffic to clear, then crossed the street and made my way through the parking lot to a mall entrance. Inside, I gazed down the long aisle. The mall was practically empty. A mother pushed her sleeping baby past me in a stroller. An elderly couple, both leaning on bright blue canes, peered into the window of a shoe store.

  I passed by a Gap, an Urban Outfitters, a CD store, and a bookstore. Somehow, the blur of bright lights and colors and the bouncy, brassy music from the loudspeakers was comforting.

  Normal life. Everything so clean and bright … and normal.

  I suddenly pictured Glen, the startled look on his face when I took off and ran away from him.

  I’ll have to apologize later, I decided. That wasn’t nice of me at all. He was only trying to help me. He was the only one who wanted to help me.

  I took an escalator down one flight. My stomach growled. I remembered that I hadn’t eaten any lunch.

  I’ll grab something to eat at the food court, I decided. Then I’ll find a place in a corner where I can sit and think.

  I rode down to the lower level. Turned down the aisle that led to the food court—and stopped.

  “Oh.” I stared hard at the woman in the brightly colored flowered dress coming toward me. I recognized her instantly—and to my shock, she recognized me.

  Miss Elizabeth. The fortune-teller.

  Her dark eyes bulged. She dropped her shopping bags. Then she scooped them up quickly. Turned. And, long black hair bouncing behind her, started to hurry away.

  “No, wait! Please!” I cried, running after her. “Please—wait!”

  Miss Elizabeth dropped a shopping bag again. She stopped to pick it up, and I caught up with her.

  “Please—” I said.

  “I remember you,” the fortune-teller said, her eyes studying me coldly.