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

peeled away. The bare wood underneath was splintered and rotted. A rickety porch ran all the way around the house.
    I stared up at the windows. Dark, grimy windows behind crumbling, crooked shutters.
    I turned and gazed across the street. Nothing there but a vacant lot with a huge hole in the ground. It looked as if someone had started to build a house and then gave up.
    Who could blame them? Who would want to live across the street from Mrs. Murder?
    I turned back to Mrs. Marder’s house. Her yard was filled with cats. Cats everywhere. All black.
    Black cats snoozing on the porch railing. Crouching on the windowsills. Stalking through the weedy grass.
    â€œMax’s house is right behind Mrs. Marder’s,” Frankie whispered. “Follow me on three. One . . . two . . . three!” He opened the creaky front gate and dashed around the side of her house.
    Well, that settled that. Louisa, Jeff, and I sprinted after Frankie.
    As I rounded the house, something caught my eye.
    Mrs. Marder! Standing on the porch.
    She held a stick in her bony hands. No, a broom! A green bandanna that was tied around her head only partly covered her coarse gray hair. I could see the deep wrinkles in her skin—and the evil glow in her dark green eyes.
    â€œYou rotten kids!” she screeched, shaking her broom at us.
    I ran on. Past a wheelbarrow full of soil. Past an old stone birdbath with a face carved into its base.
    No. Not a face.
    A skull! A skull with hollow, staring eyes and a mouth opened wide in a silent scream!
    â€œCome back here!” Mrs. Marder shrieked.
    I ran faster—and tripped over a cat. It hissed—arching its back and baring its teeth. I fell on top of a tray of little flowerpots. Sent them shattering to the ground.
    â€œMy herbs!” Mrs. Marder shrieked. “You’ve ruined them! You’ve destroyed them all!”
    My heart pounded as I scrambled to my feet.
    Mrs. Marder pointed a bony finger at me. “You will pay!”
    All the black cats gathered around her. They arched their backs. And hissed at me. Hissed horribly.
    â€œI’ll make you pay!” she yelled.
    I dove behind a clump of bushes at the back of the yard—and found Louisa, Jeff, and Frankie hiding there.
    â€œWow! Brittany broke a few flowerpots, but Mrs. Marder went ballistic!” Frankie shook his head in disbelief. “Did you hear her?”
    â€œShe’s going inside now,” Jeff said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
    â€œNot yet.” Frankie darted out from the bushes. He ran for the wheelbarrow and kicked it over. Dark soil spilled out into the weeds.
    The back door swung open.
    Mrs. Marder burst outside. She raised her broom high in the air. She shook it angrily.
    â€œYou’ll pay for this!” she screamed. “I’ll make you pay! I’ll make all of you pay!”

3

    W e ran from Mrs. Marder’s yard as fast as we could.
    I could hardly breathe by the time we got to Max’s front door.
    â€œYou’ll pay! You’ll all pay!” Mrs. Marder’s shrieks rang in my ears. My legs began to tremble.
    My hand shook too as I rang Max’s doorbell. I took a deep breath to steady myself.
    I checked my watch. Oh, great. We ran through that horrible woman’s yard—and we were late anyway.
    I peered up at Max’s house. It was a one-story brick house with freshly painted white shutters. Neat little bushes surrounded it. What a prettyhouse, I thought—the opposite of Mrs. Marder’s scary house.
    A pretty blond woman answered the door. “Hi!” she greeted us. “I’m Mrs. Davidson, Max’s mom.”
    Mrs. Davidson had cheerful green eyes and a nice smile. Her long blond hair was held loosely in a silver clip. She wore an apple-green top, leggings, and high-top sneakers. Very cool.
    She held the door open and we stepped inside.
    â€œI’m Louisa Wong,” Louisa said first.
    â€œJeff de