Spell of the Screaming Jokers (4 page)

“Right,” Frankie agreed, pulling down his cuff in a rush. “That's all. No big deal.”

I stared at him. I didn't know what to say.

Those marks on his arm were definitely a club and a diamond.

Frankie
knew
they were strange. That they weren't a bruise and a scrape. That each one had come after someone pushed him down. We had talked about it! Why was he denying it now?

We turned the corner. There was Mrs. Marder's witchy old house.

I shivered as I thought about her yelling at me.

What did she mean, she was going to make us pay?

We stopped at the gate and stared into her yard. No sign of her. She was probably in her kitchen, brewing up some strange potion!

But her cats stalked everywhere. Under the bushes. Through the grass. Around the birdbath—hungrily eyeing the sparrows splashing in it.

“We should do something to help those poor little birdies,” Frankie said suddenly. His voice had a nasty edge. “Come on!” He opened the gate and darted into the yard.

Jeff groaned.

Frankie stopped and turned toward us. A wicked grin crossed his face. He waved us in.

“What do you think, Brit?” Louisa whispered. “Should we go?”

“I don't know,” I answered, biting my lip. “Mrs. Marder is really mad at us already.”

“I'm not going,” Jeff declared. “I'm taking the long way to Max's. See you.” He turned and walked toward Fear Street.

Frankie vanished around the side of Mrs. Marder's house.

“Brit, we have to get Frankie out of there,” Louisa whispered. “Before
Mrs. Murder
sees him!”

“Right.” I grabbed her arm. “Let's go!”

We ran through the gate.

My heart pounded as we dashed across the yard. Black cats hissed at us as they scattered.

I spotted Frankie. He stood over some big pots filled with blooming geranium plants. As I watched, he lifted up the biggest plant and ran with it across the yard.

“Frankie!” I called in a hoarse whisper. “What are you doing?”

He didn't answer. He kept running. Then he heaved the pot—flowers and all—right into the middle of the birdbath. It made an awful crash.

“There!” he cried loudly. “That'll keep the birdies out of danger!”

I groaned. Why did he do
that?

“Are you nuts?” Louisa shouted at Frankie. “Come on, Brit! Let's get out of here!”

“Too bad, kitties!” Frankie yelled. “No birdies for you! Fly away birds. Fly away.” He ran around the yard, flapping his arms. “You're safe now.”

“You're
not!” a voice screamed behind us.

I gave a yelp of surprise.

I whipped my head around.

Mrs. Marder!

“I warned you!” she shrieked. “Now you'll pay!”

M
rs. Marder took a step toward us. The green bandanna on her head fluttered in the wind.

“You!” she screamed.

Was she pointing at me?

“Run!” I cried. “Let's get out of here!”

Louisa, Frankie, and I charged out of the yard. We didn't stop running until we reached Max's house.

I put out my hands and stopped myself on a tree trunk, gasping for breath.

“Did you see the awful look in her eyes?” I cried.

“I did.” Louisa's voice shook. “I'm scared, Brit! Maybe we should tell Mrs. Davidson what happened.”

Jeff stood on the front steps, looking smug. When he saw us, he turned and rang the bell.

Mrs. Davidson opened the door wearing a jade-green T-shirt and dark jeans. “Hi, kids!” she greeted us. “Come in! Max can't wait to get started today. He has the cards all shuffled.”

“Mrs. Davidson, we have to talk to you,” Louisa declared.

“Of course.” A look of concern came over Mrs. Davidson's face. “Is something wrong?”

“You know the house right behind yours?” Louisa asked as we entered the living room.

Mrs. Davidson nodded. “The Marder house.”

“Mrs. Marder is evil!” I blurted out. “She's a witch!”

“Oh, that poor woman!” Mrs. Davidson said. “She isn't evil! She doesn't take much time with her appearance, that's all.”

“But all those stories about her—” I began.

Mrs. Davidson shook her head. “You mustn't believe those stories. They are so silly! Especially the one about the kids who trespassed in her yard.”

“What kids?” Louisa asked. “I never heard that story.”

“Oh, it's nothing. Just a ridiculous rumor.” Mrs. Davidson frowned slightly. “I shouldn't repeat it. These kinds of rumors are so mean.”

“Please tell us,” I begged. “Please!”

“Oh, all right.” Mrs. Davidson sighed. “But remember—it's just a story. A silly story.”

I wasn't so sure about that. Not at all.

“One day,” Mrs. Davidson began, “four children supposedly wandered into Mrs. Marder's backyard. They were only seven or eight years old. Too young to know any better. They stepped on one of her plants or something. When she saw what they'd done—so the story goes—she got really angry and put a spell on them.”

“A spell?” My heart was racing. “What kind of spell?”

“Oh, it's too silly to tell.” Mrs. Davidson started to leave the room. “Let's go see Max.”

“No!” I yelled. “I mean, please tell us the rest of the story. Please.”

Mrs. Davidson's glance moved across each of our faces. “Oh, all right. I suppose everyone likes a scary story now and then. But remember—it's just a story.”

We all nodded, eager to hear the rest. And dreading it at the same time.

“She chased the children out of her yard,” Mrs. Davidson went on. “But from that moment on, the children complained that little creatures followed them everywhere. Attacking them when they least expected it.”

Blood drained from Frankie's face. He looked scared to death.

I gasped.

“Oh, kids! It's only a silly story.” Mrs. Davidson shook her head. “You don't have anything to worry about.”

“Yes, we do!” Louisa cried. “We ran through her garden. And Frankie dumped over her wheelbarrow and smashed a big plant in her birdbath!”

I glanced at Frankie. Now he had a strange grin on his face.

“I told you—it was just a silly story,” Mrs. Davidson said soothingly. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

We stared silently at Mrs. Davidson. We all looked pretty scared. All except Jeff. He still looked smug. Like he wanted to say “I told you so.”

“Listen.” Mrs. Davidson broke the silence. “Why don't I phone Mrs. Marder and tell her you're very sorry for ruining her plant? I'll tell her how nice you've been to Max. She won't stay mad long.”

“Oh, would you?” I cried with relief.

“I'll do it right now.” Mrs. Davidson stood up and went into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

Soon I heard her talking. I couldn't make out what she was saying. But the sound of her voice on the phone made me feel better.

Mrs. Davidson returned, smiling. “I told Mrs. Marder you didn't mean any harm,” she reported. “And I told her how much your visits have helped Max.”

“Is—is she still angry at us?” I stammered.

“Well, yes,” Mrs. Davidson admitted. “But don't worry. She'll calm down. I offered to pay for the plant—but she said no. Then I promised her that you wouldn't do anything like this again. Now, run on down the hall. Max is waiting!”

I followed my friends to Max's room, thankful that Mrs. Davidson had called Mrs. Marder. Even though Mrs. Marder was still angry, I felt a little better. At least she knew we were sorry.

Max sat at the table shuffling the cards. When we walked into his room, he glanced up. The circles under his eyes seemed darker than ever.

“Hi, Max!” I slid into a chair next to his. I leaned toward him. “Listen,” I whispered, “you think we could play something besides cards today?”

Max stared at me with his pale blue eyes. Then he shook his head. “No. Let's play cards,” he said. “That's why you're here.”

“We're not here to play cards, Max. We're here to visit you because you're sick,” I told him. “Can't we play something else? I don't really like cards.”

A smile appeared on Max's lips. But he only
shoved the cards toward me so I could cut them.

As he began dealing, I thought I heard him whisper, “I don't either.” But when I glanced over at him, he was staring straight ahead, dealing.

We didn't pick up our cards until they were all dealt. Mrs. Davidson said that was good card manners.

I opened my hand one card at a time. I'd looked at about half of my cards, when I heard it.

A piercing scream.

So loud, I dropped my cards and covered my ears.

The scream went on and on, louder and louder.

And then it stopped. Suddenly.

Now all I could hear was Louisa.

“No!” she was yelling. “Get it away!”

She flung a card out of her hand.

It landed on the table, faceup.

We all stared at it.

It was the face of another hideous joker! But this one was different from the one Frankie had been dealt. This one had green skin and small, bloodshot eyes. Its mouth turned down in a frown.

It wore the same green hat with bells at the tip. And it held the same stick—a skull at the top, with awful, gleaming eyes!

I couldn't take my eyes off the joker's hideous face.

As I stared at it—the mouth suddenly began to move!

The joker's frown widened into a cruel snarl. The joker's little eyes twirled around and around in their sockets.

And the joker opened its mouth in another horrifying wail.

M
rs. Davidson burst into Max's room.

“What's the matter?” she cried. “Who screamed?”

“It was this!” Louisa wailed. She pointed to the card.

“The joker?” Mrs. Davidson gasped. “You mean the
card
screamed?”

Louisa nodded.

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Davidson exclaimed. “You know that's impossible. You're all upset because the card is so ugly.”

She slipped the card in her pocket. Then she reached for the deck. “I don't know how it got in there. I thought I took all the jokers out myself. Sorry, I guess I missed this one.”

I peered over Mrs. Davidson's shoulder as she studied the cards one by one. “Okay, no more jokers. They're all gone.” She smiled and handed the deck back to Max.

“I don't want to play anymore,” Louisa said the minute Mrs. Davidson left the room. “Max—please. Let's play something else.”

Max ignored her. He shuffled a few times. He asked Jeff to cut, and then he dealt. We picked up our cards. We didn't know what else to do.

Instantly, the screaming began!

“Get it away!” Louisa cried. She threw her cards down on the table and leapt from her chair. “It's here!” she shrieked. “It's
screaming!”

There it was!

On the table.

The joker!

And it was screaming!

I gaped at the joker's awful face. Stared at its horrible mouth as it let out its hideous scream.

How could this be? How did it get back in the deck?

How could it scream?

How could a card scream?

Suddenly, it fell silent again.

My eyes darted from Louisa, to Jeff, to Frankie.

Louisa and Jeff stared at the card in horror.

Frankie's glance was cool, almost amused.

Then I heard the sound.

Hssssssss!

I glanced toward the window.

A black cat crouched on the sill outside Max's window!

It shifted its gaze—until its eyes rested on me. Its evil, gleaming green eyes.

That was when it hit me.

“It's Mrs. Marder!” I cried, tossing my cards down. “She's the one making these jokers appear.
She's
the one making them scream!”