Three Evil Wishes

by R. L. Stine

  I opened my mouth to speak. But no sound came out.

  I was too furious to speak!

  I stared at Barky—nearly as big as a horse. And then my eyes moved to my tiny little shrimp of a brother.

  I waved my fist in the air. Big muscles rippled up and down my arm.

  “Change me back,” I told the genie. “I mean it. Change Barky and me back the way we were.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, eyes lowered to the ground. “I can’t.”

  9

  “You can’t?” I cried. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “Okay. Okay,” Gene said, motioning for me to calm down. “Stop shouting. Hoo. You’re giving me a splitting headache.”

  “Change Barky and me back!” I insisted.

  “All right,” he finally agreed. “I can change you back. But it will cost you a wish.”

  “Excuse me? No way!” Jesse protested. “You’re the one who messed up! Why should we waste a wish because you made a mistake?”

  The genie stuck out his purple chin. “Those are the rules, kids. Want to change back? It costs a wish. I don’t write the rules. I only carry them out. It’s a job, you know.”

  “A real genie would admit that he was wrong,” I grumbled. “A real genie would change us back for free. I guess you’re just a big fake—with a capital F.”

  The genie’s purple eyes flashed with anger. “You shouldn’t call me names,” he scolded. “I’m trying to teach you a few things here. You shouldn’t whisper, and you shouldn’t call names.”

  A wave of hot air swirled around me. Choking me. I gasped for breath. Behind me I heard the lake water bubble and churn again.

  I felt weak and dizzy. Sweat poured down my face. “Okay! I’m sorry!” I cried. “You’re not a fake!”

  The genie waved a hand, and the waves of heat disappeared.

  A cool breeze brushed against my skin. I took a deep breath and let the fresh air wash over me.

  “You okay, Hannah?” Jesse asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I told him.

  That settled it. Now I knew we had to stay on Gene’s good side. He was powerful. Very powerful. And he could use that power against us even if he said we were the masters.

  “I have decided to give you a break,” Gene said finally. “I admit there was a tiny mix-up. So I’ll change you and the dog back. But next time you’ll have to use a wish!”

  Gene bowed to Barky and me. Then he closed his eyes and started to hum. He tilted his face up to the sky and waved his arms in the air. He began to dance his crazy hula.

  I held on tight to Barky as the tornado of swirling purple gas blasted out of the sky and covered us both again. The prickling sensation spread over my skin.

  Barky yapped furiously. I held him in place with my huge arms.

  As I struggled to keep Barky close to me, I had a terrible thought. What if Gene messes up again? What if he makes me too small this time? Or even bigger?

  I buried my face in Barky’s fur. Get it right this time, Gene, I pleaded silently.

  The purple smoke cleared as quickly as it appeared. I glanced down at my feet. They appeared normal again. I felt my neck.

  Yes! As scrawny as ever.

  I turned to Barky. He barked and wagged his tiny tail.

  He was back to normal too.

  I sighed and stretched my arms above my head. It felt good to be back in my own body.

  I turned to my brother. “I don’t know about you, Jesse, but I’ve had enough of this wish stuff for one day.”

  “Yeah. Me too,” Jesse agreed. He dusted off his jeans and picked up his soaking-wet backpack.

  “Come on, Gene. Back inside the bottle.” I picked up the bottle and held it out to him. “Jump back in. We’ll bring you out again later—after we have some time to think about our next wish.”

  Gene folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry.” He shook his head.

  “What do you mean?” I demanded. “We’re the masters, right? What we say goes, remember?”

  But Gene didn’t budge. “I am not going back in that bottle,” he argued. “I have such a pain in my neck. And my knees still ache. No way I’m going back in that cramped little bottle. You will have to take me home with you.”

  “Huh? You can’t come home with us!” Jesse cried. “Our parents would freak!”

  I poked Jesse in the ribs with my elbow. “Don’t make him angry,” I whispered. “We don’t need any more of his hot air.”

  I cleared my throat and turned to Gene. “What Jesse means is that you would be kind of tough to explain to our parents. You see, we don’t often meet genies.”

  “We never meet genies,” Jesse backed me up. “So you’ll just have to get back in the bottle.”

  “Are you deaf?” the old genie rasped. “Maybe your second wish should be for a hearing aid. I am going to live outside my bottle—with you—until you have made all of your wishes.”

  “But my parents—” I started to say.

  He raised a hand to silence me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he said. “Watch.”

  The old genie closed his eyes. A wisp of purple smoke rose up around him.

  Panic made me cry out. What did he plan to do? Something horrible?

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “No! Don’t!” I yelled.

  But there was no heat. No boiling lake. I opened one eye. Then the other.

  Gene had disappeared. A boy our age stood in his place. A stocky boy with blue eyes and curly brown hair. He wore black velvet shorts, a ruffled shirt, and shoes that buttoned on the side.

  “Gene? Is that you?” I cried.

  He nodded. “Hoo. Is this a thrill? Now I’m a kid again! My heart is going pitty-pat. I may dance a jig.”

  “Whoa! That’s awesome,” Jesse shouted. “But, Gene, what are you wearing? You look like—a girl.”

  Gene fluffed the ruffle on his shirt. “I do not look like a girl. These clothes are very fashionable,” he insisted.

  “Maybe a hundred years ago,” I told him, shaking my head. “Gene, this is never going to work.”

  “It must work,” he replied. “It is the only way you will receive the rest of your wishes.”

  Jesse shrugged and carefully picked up his muddy backpack. “I guess he’s right. It’ll have to work,” he told me.

  “Have you lost your mind? What are we going to tell Mom and Dad?” I asked.

  Jesse slipped the bottle into my backpack and then handed the pack to me. “We’ll think of something,” he said cheerfully. “Besides, we have two wishes left! We can’t just forget about them!”

  “Yeah, well, the first wish didn’t turn out so great,” I reminded him.

  “So we’ll be a little more careful next time. We’ll get our wishes, and then—poof!—Gene will be on his way. Right, Gene?”

  “Whatever,” the genie muttered. “If I’m a kid, how come I’ve still got such heartburn?”

  “Well . . . all right,” I gave in. “I guess Gene can come with us.”

  But as we made our way home, my mind filled with dread.

  How could we just bring a new kid home to live?

  How could we ever explain this to Mom and Dad?

  And what if the genie wasn’t as nice as he seemed?

  What if this was some kind of trick? What if he really was evil?

  10

  “This is Gene,” I told my parents.

  Gene gave them a little bow.

  We made Gene change into modern clothes before we reached the house. He looked pretty good. But his skin was still a little purple. I hoped my parents wouldn’t notice.

  “How are you, Gene?” Dad shook his hand.

  “Actually, I’ve got pretty bad heartburn,” Gene complained, pounding his chest. “Hoo. Have I got heartburn.”

  “Heartburn?” Dad narrowed his eyes at our guest. “A boy your age?”

  “Have you got any seltzer?” Gene asked. “I’ve really got to burp. I think it
will help a lot.”

  His eyes were flashing around the kitchen. I knew he was admiring all the fancy new appliances. After all, he hadn’t been in a kitchen in a hundred years.

  Dad shook his head. He reached into the fridge for some club soda. “Weird friend,” he whispered to me.

  “He’s Jesse’s friend,” I whispered back. “Not mine.”

  Gene gulped down the club soda in a single swallow. A few seconds later he was burping his head off. It was really gross.

  I thought there was no way my parents would let Gene stay for dinner. But they did. Jesse and I have really nice parents.

  “We’re only having pizza,” Mom told me. “You’ve got about half an hour.”

  Jesse and I led Gene up to Jesse’s room. “Houses have changed,” Gene murmured. “No butter churn.”

  I turned to him. “Will you try to be more normal?” I whispered. “You don’t want my parents to think that you’re weird, do you?”

  “Weird? Me—weird?” he replied, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m the most normal genie in the Lost Kingdoms of the Great and Golden Raj!”

  “Well, try to act like a normal twelve-year-old person,” I pleaded.

  “There’s no such thing,” he muttered. He picked up the remote clicker to Jesse’s TV. “What’s this?”

  “For the TV,” I explained.

  “Don’t spell your words out,” he scolded. “Don’t whisper, don’t call names, and don’t spell out your words! It drives me crazy!”

  I pointed across the room. “That’s called a TV,” I said. “You can watch things on it.”

  “Here. I’ll show you,” Jesse offered. He took the remote clicker and turned on the TV.

  Gene smiled as the picture appeared. A Bugs Bunny cartoon.

  “You watch for a while,” Jesse told him. He shoved me toward the door. “Hannah and I will go talk about our next wish. Okay?”

  “This TV is some kind of magic,” Gene said, staring at Elmer Fudd. “How does it work?”

  Jesse and I closed the bedroom door behind us and made our way to the end of the hall to talk in private.

  “What are we going to do?” Jesse whispered.

  “We have to get him out of here. He’s too weird. Mom and Dad will never believe he’s a normal kid.”

  I nodded. “I know. But how can we get rid of him?”

  “Maybe we should make two more wishes—real quick,” Jesse suggested. “We could—”

  “Too dangerous,” I interrupted. “We have to be careful. Our first wish was a disaster.”

  “But we know we want to do something about the Burger brothers—right?” Jesse insisted.

  I shook my head. “I’m not so sure. It’s all too dangerous. And Gene is so weird. He might mess up again and do something terrible to us.”

  Jesse gazed over my shoulder at the bedroom door. “It’s very quiet in there,” he whispered. “I don’t hear the TV anymore.”

  “Maybe we should make two dumb wishes,” I suggested. “You know—ask for a closet full of candy bars and a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Just to get rid of him.”

  “No way,” Jesse replied sharply. “I just keep picturing my backpack, all soaked and drenched in mud. My science project that I worked six weeks on—totally ruined.”

  Jesse sighed. “I really want to pay back Mike and Roy. I really do.”

  “I think it’s a bad idea,” I insisted. “I don’t think we can trust Gene. I think we have to get rid of him as fast as we can.”

  “Dinner!” Mom’s call from downstairs interrupted our discussion.

  “We’ll be right down!” I called back.

  Jesse and I hurried back to Jesse’s room to get Gene. “Do you think he’ll be okay at dinner?” I whispered.

  But Jesse had no chance to answer.

  We pushed open the bedroom door—and both of us gasped in horror.

  11

  First I saw bolts and wires and sheets of metal strewn over the bedroom carpet. Then I saw the TV’s picture tube lying on its side in front of the dresser.

  Knobs and electronic parts and circuit boards were piled beside the bed. The cable box had been taken apart. Pieces of it rested at the foot of the bed.

  Gene had his back to us. He was busily pulling the speaker from what was left of the TV.

  “I—I don’t believe it!” Jesse croaked.

  “Gene—what are you doing?” I shrieked. “You took apart the whole TV!”

  He lowered the speaker to the floor. Then he turned to us. “Just trying to figure out how it works,” he replied with a grin. He shook his head. “Hoo. So many parts.”

  “But—but—but—” my brother sputtered.

  “Don’t worry,” Gene assured him. “I’m pretty sure I can get it back together.” He scratched his head. “Pretty sure,” he muttered.

  “Dinner!” Mom called from downstairs.

  “My TV!” Jesse wailed. “I’ve had it for only a few weeks!”

  “What does this do?” Gene asked. He held up a long metal tube.

  “How should I know?” Jesse snapped furiously.

  “Genies are very curious,” Gene said, studying the tube. “You need to be curious to be a genie. If you aren’t curious, you’ll never learn anything—right?”

  Jesse grabbed Gene by the shoulders and tugged him away from the TV. “You’re not supposed to be a genie now, remember? You’re supposed to be a friend who’s staying for dinner.”

  “Do you think you can act normal?” I asked the genie. “Don’t give Mom and Dad any reason to think you’re weird—okay?”

  “Hoo. That’s easy,” Gene replied, following us out of the room. “I do know how to eat. It won’t be any problem.”

  I felt so nervous as we entered the dining room. We usually eat in the kitchen. But since we had a guest, Gene, Mom and Dad set the table in the dining room.

  Gene sat between Jesse and me on one side of the table. Mom and Dad were at the ends.

  I had a sudden urge to blurt out the truth: “Gene isn’t a kid. He’s really a genie. He’s been inside a bottle for a hundred years. Jesse and I pulled him out, and he’s giving us three wishes.”

  But I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t believe me. They’d think it was some kind of dumb joke.

  So I didn’t say anything.

  Instead, I tried to fight down my nervousness. And I silently prayed that Gene wouldn’t do anything weird or embarrassing.

  “Hannah, pass the pizza to Gene first,” Dad instructed. He took a deep breath, inhaling the pizza aroma. “Mmmm. It looks great. Plenty of pepperoni. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving!”

  I picked up the pizza tray by the edges and held it out to Gene.

  “Thank you very much,” he said politely. “It does look really good.”

  Then he reached both hands to the tray.

  He rolled the entire pizza up.

  And slid the whole thing into his mouth.

  * * *

  After dinner I hurried out to my studio in the garage. I had to get out of the house. Away from that crazy genie.

  Poor Mom and Dad.

  They didn’t know what to say when Gene ate the whole pizza.

  They had stared at him in amazement for the longest time. Then Mom went into the kitchen, opened a can of tuna fish, and made sandwiches for the rest of us.

  Gene smiled and talked about his heartburn, and acted as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. Mom and Dad kept flashing me glances like “What is this kid’s problem?” I could see that Dad was really angry.

  Jesse hurried Gene upstairs. And I ran out to my studio. Barky followed me. I got to work on my self-portrait. I hoped that working with clay would help me feel better about Gene and wishes and pizza!

  I carved away at the chin, making it a little pointier. Then I worked on the hair, the nose, and the hands. Before I knew it, an hour had gone by.

  “Oh, boy, Barky, I’ve been working a long time.” I yawned and stretched.

  Barky
turned toward the open garage door. He growled a low, angry growl.

  “What’s up, boy?” I asked.

  That’s when I heard it. The scraping sound of skateboard wheels.

  Get a grip, Hannah, I thought. It’s probably just Tori on her Big Wheels again.

  But Tori wouldn’t be out this late—would she?

  “Ark! Ark! Ark!” my dog yapped.

  My heart began thumping in my chest.

  “Ark! Ark! Ark!”

  I took a deep breath and went back to my work. I hoped that maybe, if I just concentrated on my sculpture, they would go away.

  I wasn’t that lucky.

  “Hey—yo!” Mike Burger hopped off his skateboard and burst into the garage.

  “Yo—hey!” His brother Roy did the same.

  A chill ran up my spine. The clay fell out of my hand.

  “What are you two creeps doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I snapped.

  “Yo. What’s up?” Mike asked.

  Roy stepped up to my sculpture of myself. “Who’s this?” he grunted. “Your dog?”

  “No way. That’s a pig!” Mike declared.

  They both tossed back their pudgy, round heads and giggled like hyenas. “Huh-huh-huh-huh.”

  “Ha-ha. Remind me to laugh,” I muttered. “Would you two please leave? I’m trying to work and—hey!”

  I cried out as Roy pulled the head off my sculpture. “Mike—think fast!” He heaved it across the garage to his brother.

  “Stop it! Give it back!” I screamed.

  I jumped up and dove at Mike. He held it up high, out of my reach.

  “What do you think, Roy—dog or pig?” Mike asked his brother.

  He tossed the head back to Roy.

  “Monkey,” Roy replied, catching the head against his chest.

  “Hey, yeah,” Mike agreed. “Just like this monkey in the middle!”

  They tossed the head back and forth to each other. I ran between them, reaching up to catch the head—and missing. Barky ran furiously back and forth too, barking his head off.

  Each time one of the Burgers caught the head, the wet clay made a sickening splat. And I could see the head squish flatter and flatter.