Spell of the Screaming Jokers by R.L. Stine Page A

anything wrong.”
    â€œTell that to Mr. Bladvig,” Louisa said.
    â€œHey!” I cried. “That’s whose fault it is! Mr. Bladvig’s!”
    â€œReally.” Louisa nodded. “If he hadn’t come out of the music room and seen us petting Spike, we wouldn’t even be in trouble.”
    â€œWhat about that redheaded kid?” I asked. “The one whose locker is next to Frankie’s? What’s his name—Jeff.”
    â€œAre you in loooove with Jeff?” Jimmy asked me.
    I ignored him. “I bet Jeff is mad at Frankie,” I went on.
    â€œWhy is Jeff mad at Frankie?” Jimmy asked.
    â€œJimmy, you don’t even know Frankie and Jeff!” I exclaimed. “Why do you care?”
    â€œMr. Bladvig dragged Jeff off to Mr. Emerson’s office with the rest of us, and he was just standing at his locker. He wasn’t even looking at Spike,” Louisa explained to him.
    â€œI’ve got it!” I cried. “This is all Spike’s fault.”
    Because of one stupid pet rat, I had to visit a kid I didn’t even know.
    One stupid white rat got us into all this trouble, I thought miserably.
    Well, we’ll go visit Max, and that will be the end of it, I told myself.
    But I was wrong.
    It was just the beginning.
    The beginning of real trouble.

2

    â€œM ax would live on Fear Street.” Louisa shuddered as we walked down Hawthorne Drive. “Hey, there’s Frankie!” She waved.
    Frankie ran to catch up with us. It took him only a few strides—because everything about Frankie was long.
    He had long, skinny legs. And long, thin arms—they practically hung down to his knees. He had a long, narrow face, with a long, straight nose. And long, stringy brown hair.
    When he caught up to us, I noticed his T-shirt. It was long too. And blue—just like his eyes. It said DARE ME!
    The three of us walked to Park Drive. Louisaglanced over her shoulder. “Isn’t that Jeff?” She pointed to a thin redheaded boy walking behind us. “Maybe we should wait for him.”
    As he walked up, I glanced at my watch. “Hey, guys, it’s almost five,” I warned. “We’re going to be late!”
    â€œWe could cut through Mrs. Marder’s yard,” Frankie said.
    â€œNo way!” I cried. Didn’t he know what people said about Mrs. Marder? “She’s a witch!”
    Louisa’s dark eyes widened. “Right!” she agreed. “No way am I getting hexed!”
    â€œYou’re afraid of Mrs. Murder?” Frankie said, chuckling. “I’m not.”
    â€œWell, you should be,” I told him. “Don’t you remember what happened to Gina Logan?”
    â€œNo, I don’t,” Jeff said. “What happened to her?”
    â€œShe went into Mrs. Marder’s yard. And no one ever saw her again!”
    â€œI heard Gina’s family moved to Utah,” Frankie pointed out.
    â€œThat’s not what I heard.” Louisa shook her head sadly. “She just disappeared!”
    â€œOh, sure,” Jeff scoffed.
    â€œNo, really,” Louisa insisted. “Mrs. Marder is weird. She has hundreds of cats—and they hissall the time. She hates kids. She’s really scary.”
    â€œScarier than double detention?” Frankie asked. “Because that’s what Mr. Emerson said we’d get if we’re late.”
    Frankie had a point. Two minutes of running through a witch’s backyard was better than two weeks of detention.
    â€œI don’t think we should cut through,” Jeff said suddenly.
    â€œDon’t tell me you’re scared too!” Frankie teased.
    â€œI’m not scared!” Jeff scowled. “I just don’t think we should go through her yard, that’s all. It’s trespassing.”
    Trespassing? I glanced at Louisa and rolled my eyes. Who cared about that?
    I studied Mrs. Marder’s house. Its gray paint had