Three Evil Wishes

by R. L. Stine

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  ‘Spell of the Screaming Jokers’ Excerpt

  About R. L. Stine

  1

  “Why can’t I get this dumb nose right?” I cried.

  I always talk to myself when I’m working on my sculptures. It helps me be more creative.

  But today it wasn’t helping. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get my life-size sculpture of Jesse right. The nose was all wrong. It made him look like a monkey.

  Even though Jesse is my stepbrother, we look a bit alike. We both have pale blond hair. And we’re both sort of short.

  Okay, okay. We’re both really short.

  In fact, when Professor Pollack, my sculpture teacher, gave me the clay to make a life-size sculpture of myself, I had enough left over to make one of Jesse!

  Last summer Mom decided I had talent in art. So she signed me up for an advanced sculpture class at Waynesbridge College. I’m twelve, so it’s kind of weird going to class with college kids. At least it was weird at first. But I’m used to it now.

  My mom loves everything I make. She sighs and says dopey stuff like: “Oh, Hannah, it’s so wonderful to have an artist in the family.” She even turned part of our garage into a studio for me.

  My studio is great. It has absolutely everything I need—a sink, palette knives, and tons of paintbrushes. I even have a full-length mirror against the wall so I can paint and sculpt myself.

  The only problem with my studio is that it’s on Fear Street.

  So is my house. Everyone knows that scary things happen on Fear Street. Kids at school tell stories all the time about ghosts and strange creatures roaming the Fear Street woods.

  I’ve lived here all my life, and so far no creepy things have happened to me. But I’m always watching for them.

  “Ark, ark-ark!!”

  My dog, Barky, the smallest dog on the planet, yapped at himself in the full-length mirror. Every time Barky passes that mirror he yaps. He’s cute, but he’s not exactly a genius.

  “Ark, ark-ark!!”

  Want to guess how Barky got his name?

  “Will you please stop it? I’m trying to work,” I scolded the dog. Of course, he didn’t listen.

  “Ark, ark-ark!”

  “What are you barking at?” I shouted at him.

  I jumped as the garage door rolled open with a roar.

  My stepbrother Jesse burst into the garage. “My sneakers! My sneakers!” he croaked.

  I spun away from my sculpture. “Jesse, what’s your problem?” I demanded.

  “They . . . they got my sneakers!” he choked out, his face bright red.

  I lowered my eyes to the garage floor. Jesse’s sneakers were drenched in mud.

  I swallowed hard. I knew what had happened. He didn’t have to tell me. “The Burger brothers?” I asked softly.

  Jesse nodded. “The Burger brothers.”

  Mike and Roy Burger are two huge walruses pretending to be twelve-year-old kids. Really. They’re the biggest kids in history!

  And since Jesse and I are just about the shrimpiest kids in Shadyside, guess who the bouncing Burger brothers choose to pick on all the time?

  You got it.

  “They stomped mud on my new white high-tops,” Jesse wailed, shaking his head. “Then Mike held me down and Roy unlaced both sneakers and took the laces.”

  Jesse took several deep breaths, trying to get himself together.

  “Then what did they do?” I asked.

  “Then they took off,” he answered. “What else?”

  The Burger brothers always act fast, then run away.

  “Why did they do it?” I asked. Stupid question. Because I already knew the answer. They did it because they’re the Burger brothers.

  Jesse shrugged. “Who knows why they did it. You know Mike and Roy. They never talk. They only grunt.”

  Jesse is right. The longest sentence I ever heard a Burger brother say is “Yo.”

  Jesse sloshed around the garage in his muddy, open sneakers. “I’m sick of their stupid jokes. I’m sick of the names they call me. And I’m sick of those stupid skateboards they’re always riding,” he wailed.

  “Sorry, Jesse,” I replied. “There’s not a lot we can do. They’re big. We’re small. Big kids pick on small kids. They can’t help themselves. It’s in their nature.”

  “Well, it’s not fair!” Jesse scowled. Then his face brightened. “Hey!” he shouted. “Maybe if I start working out. You know, lifting weights, getting myself really pumped up. Maybe then I could take on those Burgers!”

  He stepped in front of the full-length mirror. He stuck his chest out and then curled his arms up like a weight lifter does.

  I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Jesse didn’t look much like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Actually, he looked more like a little blond mouse.

  “It’s not funny, Hannah!” Jesse snapped. “I have to do something. Those big elephants think they’re funny—but they’re not. Last week, when they tied me to that tree—”

  I shook my head slowly, remembering. Poor Jesse. The Burger brothers tied him to the tree in our neighbor’s yard and left him there. It was horrible! Even worse, the tree was covered with ants!

  If Barky hadn’t started barking his head off, Jesse might still be out there. Luckily, I heard his yelps and came and rescued my brother.

  Jesse wasn’t hurt or anything. But he still has nightmares about ants crawling all over his body. And he still itches like crazy.

  “I can’t wear these sneakers,” Jesse moaned. “Even with new laces. Look at them!” He paced back and forth. The sneakers made a loud sloshing sound on the concrete garage floor. “How can I get Dad to buy me new ones?”

  “We’ll think of something,” I replied.

  But I wasn’t so sure. Jesse’s father—my stepfather—hates to waste money. He freaks out if we leave a light on or turn the heat up even one degree. No way he’d pay for a new pair of sneakers after he just bought a pair.

  Poor Jesse might be sloshing for weeks!

  Jesse moved back in front of the mirror to flex his scrawny arms. I returned to my sculpture. Maybe now that Jesse stood in front of me, I’d be able to get the nose right.

  I began to pick away at the clay—when I heard a noise outside the garage.

  “Jess, what was that?” I whispered.

  Jesse’s arms drooped. He spun away from the mirror.

  Barky perked up his ears.

  This time we both heard the noise. And recognized it.

  The scrape of plastic wheels on pavement.

  Shoosh! Shoosh!

  Skateboards!

  “They’re here!” Jesse cried. “Oh, no! The Burger brothers—they’re here!”

  2

  Shoosh! Shoosh!

  The scrape of the skateboards became a roar.

  “We’re trapped!” I cried. “We can’t get to the house before—before—”

  “Hide!” Jesse whispered. He dove behind the full-length mirror. I scrambled into the corner behind a stack of boxes and held my breath. Barky tore toward the open garage door, yapping and barking.
r />   “No, Barky!” I whispered. “No!”

  Too late. The little dog raced out the door. The Burger brothers had him now for sure.

  “Come here, Barky! Good doggie!” I heard a tiny, shrill voice call.

  “Oh, wow,” I moaned, rolling my eyes.

  I crawled out of my hiding place and peered outside. Just as I suspected. Not the Burger brothers.

  Tori Sanders, the three-year-old from next door, was petting Barky in the driveway. Tori sat on one of those plastic Big Wheels. Her wheels made that scraping sound!

  “You can come out now,” I called to Jesse.

  He peeked out from behind the mirror. He groaned when he saw Tori. “Well, it sounded like skateboards to me,” Jesse muttered. He crawled out and dusted himself off. “But this just proves what I’m saying. It’s not fair. The Burger brothers have made me scared of everything.”

  “So what can we do?” I sighed, watching Tori pet the dog. “We’re stuck with Mike and Roy. We can’t wish them away—can we?”

  * * *

  After school the next afternoon, Jesse and I stopped home for Barky. Then we made our way to Fear Lake. Fear Lake is a short walk through the Fear Street woods. The woods are dark and creepy. But the lake is quiet and pretty.

  When we arrived, the lakeshore was deserted. The bright afternoon sunlight glistened on the surface of the still water.

  Jesse and I dropped our backpacks on the ground and began hunting for flat stones.

  He and I have a championship stone-skipping contest. Until last month Jesse was the winner, with nine skips to one stone. Then I beat him with a super-flat stone that skipped ten times.

  “Too round. Too round. Too round.” Jesse was picking up stones and tossing them back down. “Too round. Perfect!”

  I rolled my eyes. Sometimes Jesse gets way too serious about the silliest things.

  I bent down to pick up a smooth white stone. Above me, the sun moved behind a thick cloud. A wave of cold rushed over me.

  The lakeshore suddenly grew quieter. No branches rustled. No leaves whispered in the trees.

  Jesse didn’t seem to notice.

  I stood up and gazed around.

  Yes. It had definitely grown quieter. Another chill ran down my back. The same chill I feel when I think someone’s watching me.

  Barky started yapping. “ARK, ARK, ARK!!”

  “Barky, be quiet!” Jesse ordered.

  Barky ran clockwise in little circles, barking furiously. Then he ran counterclockwise, barking and staring into the woods the whole time.

  “What is his problem?” I cried. “What does he see?”

  I tried to follow Barky’s stare.

  The low shrubs suddenly shook. A branch cracked on the ground.

  It must be some kind of creature! I realized.

  Barky has sniffed out a creature from the woods back there.

  My eyes narrowed on the cluster of leafy shrubs.

  The shrubs shook again.

  Then a dark form moved out from behind them.

  And I started to scream.

  3

  “No,” I cried. “It can’t be!”

  A second form stepped out from the bushes.

  The Burger brothers.

  No wonder Barky was yapping his head off!

  “Yo!” Mike called.

  “Hey—yo!” Roy greeted us.

  “Wow! Two words! Good vocabulary!” Jesse exclaimed.

  I shoved him. “Shut up! Don’t get them angry.”

  The Burger brothers shuffled toward us. Their big bellies bounced under their T-shirts. Their dirty brown hair was combed over their foreheads, nearly covering their puffy, round blue eyes.

  “What are you doing here? Leave us alone!” I snapped.

  Mike grunted.

  Roy muttered something I couldn’t hear.

  Barky yapped angrily at them.

  “You’re scaring our dog!” Jesse cried.

  Roy snickered.

  “That’s a dog?” Mike asked. “Sure it isn’t a rat? Huh-huh-huh.”

  “That’s not a rat,” Roy added. “It’s a gerbil.”

  They both held their big stomachs and laughed really loud. Big, fake laughs.

  Barky growled.

  “Kind of ugly for a gerbil,” Roy said, eyeing Barky.

  “That dog looks like something I picked out of my nose,” Mike declared.

  They laughed again.

  I noticed Jesse picking up a stone. A pretty big stone. He hid it in his fist.

  Oh, no, I thought. Don’t start trouble, Jesse. Don’t try to act brave with these two guys.

  Mike turned to me. “Yo. How come you’re here?”

  “We’re . . . skipping stones,” I told him.

  He scratched his thick brown hair. His round eyes grew wider. “Yeah?”

  “Hey—show us how,” his brother demanded.

  “Yeah,” Mike agreed.

  “No problem,” I said. I picked up a flat white stone. Then I stepped to the edge of the shore. Pulled my hand back. And tossed the stone across the surface of the lake.

  It skipped twice before it sank.

  “You stink,” Roy told me.

  Mike let out a high-pitched giggle. He shoved Jesse toward the water. “You try, shrimp.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jesse muttered. He already had the stone in his hand. He heaved it hard. It skipped once, then it sank into the blue-green water.

  “You stink too,” Roy observed.

  Jesse turned on him angrily. “Can you do better?” he demanded.

  “Yeah. Watch,” Roy replied.

  He picked up Jesse’s backpack. Raised it high above his head.

  And heaved it into the lake.

  “Hey!” Jesse shrieked.

  The black backpack floated on top of the water for about five seconds. Then it sank to the bottom.

  “Wow,” Roy muttered, staring at the water. A wicked grin spread across his face. “It didn’t skip.”

  “Let me try!” Mike declared.

  He picked up my backpack and tossed it into the water. It sank even quicker than Jesse’s.

  “Mine didn’t skip either,” Mike said, pretending to pout.

  “Guess you two win!” Roy exclaimed.

  The two of them bounced off into the woods, laughing their blubbery heads off.

  Jesse and I stared at the lake. My mouth dropped open. My legs suddenly felt rubbery and weak.

  Our books. Our homework. All on the bottom of Fear Lake.

  “I’m going to get them one day!” Jesse’s voice was low and angry. He balled his hands into fists. “My science project is in my backpack. My homework is in there. My textbooks. Everything!”

  We stared at the water in silence.

  “At least they didn’t throw them very far,” I said finally. “Maybe we can pull them up and dry our stuff out.”

  Jesse stared at me. “You really want to go in there? In Fear Lake?”

  The lake, just like the woods, had a pretty creepy reputation. “No. I don’t want to go in,” I replied. “But what choice do we have?”

  Jesse knew we had no choice. We had to go in.

  We pulled off our shoes and socks and rolled up our jeans as high as they would go.

  “That water is going to be freezing,” Jesse warned.

  I hoped he was wrong. I walked up to the edge of the lake and peered in. Above, the sun slid behind clouds again. The water was so dark and cloudy, I could barely see the bottom. I dipped my big toe in for half a second—and drew it back.

  Cold. Very cold.

  “I can’t believe the Burger brothers did this to us!” I cried. “I wish we could pay them back!”

  I took a deep breath and waded into the cold water, moving as fast as I could. The cold took my breath away. I gasped. And shivered. And gasped again. I wrapped my arms around my body to keep warm.

  “Whooooa!” I shouted. Did something slimy brush up against my leg? It sure felt like it. And in Fear Lake, I wasn’t
taking any chances. I started to wade back to the shore—fast.

  “Jesse! Something’s here—in the water!” I shouted. “Something alive!”

  Jesse grabbed my wrist. “Yeah. They’re called fish.”

  Together we walked a few more steps into the dark, cold water. Then, in front of me, something splashed to the surface.

  A fish?

  No. It bobbed in slow circles just under the surface.

  What could it be?

  “Got it!” Jesse cried.

  He yanked his backpack up from the water. “Yuuuck!” he moaned. The backpack was covered in black mud.

  I lowered my eyes to the water. The strange object began to bob toward me!

  A voice in the back of my mind told me to get out of the lake right away. To stay away from that thing in the water.

  I should have listened.

  But instead, I took a step forward. I squeezed my eyes shut—and reached out to grab it.

  4

  I wrapped my fingers around the object. It felt slick and hard. I pulled it out of the water and held it up to examine it.

  A bottle?

  Yes. It was a bottle. An ordinary brown glass bottle with a cork in it.

  I let out a sigh of relief. Nothing spooky or weird about a bottle. Someone probably threw it in the lake after a picnic.

  I was about to drop the bottle back into the water, when I noticed something strange about it. It should have been cold—but it felt warm. Warmer than my hand.

  I held on to the bottle as I hunted for my backpack.

  “Found it,” I called to Jesse, who was already onshore.

  I dredged up my backpack. Gross. It was muddy and covered with clumps of soggy green weeds.

  I waded back to shore with the bottle and my backpack. “Hey, Jess. Check out this bottle. It feels warm and—”

  The bottle jerked in my hand!

  I nearly dropped it.

  Did something move inside it? Was something alive in there?

  I tried to peer through the brown glass. But it was thick and dirty. I couldn’t see a thing.

  Get a grip, Hannah! I thought to myself. Nothing could be living in this old bottle.

  I turned to Jesse. He frowned as he stared at his mud-soaked backpack. “Totally ruined,” he moaned, shaking his head. “Now I have to tell Dad about my sneakers and my backpack. He’ll freak. He’ll totally freak.”