My Name Is Evil by R.L. Stine Page A

Jilly. “Wow.”
    I nodded, clasping and unclasping my burning hands.
    â€œWe might as well go home,” Deena whispered.
    Jilly looks so comfortable onstage, I thought. So natural … So happy.
    But then I saw her expression suddenly change. Her smile faded. She looked surprised. Confused.
    All three of us gasped as Jilly started to twirl.
    She was near the end of the dance. She had her hands high above her head. As she started to lower them, she raised up on her right foot—and started to spin.
    â€œThat’s not part of the dance,” Marci whispered.
    â€œIs she showing off?” Deena asked.
    My arms prickled. I tightened them around myself as I watched Jilly in amazement.
    Round and round she twirled. Kicking her left leg out with each spin.
    Faster … faster …
    â€œUnbelievable,” Deena said, shaking her head. “What a show-off.”
    â€œWow,” Marci repeated.
    Jilly twirled even faster now, her arms flying wildly. Her right leg remained stiff and straight as she spun. Her left leg kicked out. Faster … harder … her blond ponytail whipped around behind her.
    I let out a cry when I caught her expression. Her eyes were wide with fright. Her mouth open in a silent scream, as she spun … harder … faster …
    My whole body shuddered in dread. Jilly wasn’t showing off.
    â€œShe—she can’t stop!” I shrieked. “She’s out of control!”
    My hands burned as if on fire. They throbbed with heat. I clenched my fists tightly, as if trying to keep my hands from exploding! Wave after wave of pain shot up and down my arms.
    I gaped in horror as Jilly twirled.
    Kick, spin. Kick, spin.
    Ms. Masters cut off the music.
    But Jilly didn’t stop.
    Kick, spin. Kick, spin. She hurled herself around and around, her hands flailing.
    Silence now. A heavy silence as we all watched in horror.
    â€œHelp me—!” Jilly’s shrill cry rang out. “Ohhhh, help—!”
    And still she spun. Hurling herself harder … Hair flying wild now … Hands frantically thrashing the air.
    â€œHelp me! Pleeeeease!”
    And then, still screaming, still moaning in pain, still heaving herself around, Jilly sailed across the stage. Sailed into the wall.
    Her body made a sick thud as she hit it.
    And then, twirling, still twirling … she crumpled to the floor.

“What happened?”
    â€œWhy did she do that?”
    â€œWhy couldn’t she stop?”
    â€œDid she break something? She hit the wall so hard!”
    Our frightened voices rang out in the auditorium. We hurried over to Jilly.
    Sprawled awkwardly on the stage floor, her eyes shut, her mouth hanging open, legs bent at odd angles, she looked like a broken doll.
    â€œStand back, everyone,” Ms. Masters ordered shrilly. “Stay back. Let me examine her.”
    â€œWhy was she screaming like that? Why couldn’t she stop?” Marci cried. Tears glistened in her eyes.
    â€œDid she lose her balance?” Deena asked, shaking her head. “Did she just spin out of control?”
    Holding one hand over my mouth, I stared down at my friend in silence. A heavy feeling of dread rolled over me. My stomach lurched.
    â€œIs—is she breathing?” The question escaped my lips without my realizing it.
    Ms. Masters was down on the floor, bending over Jilly. “Yes, she’s breathing,” she answered. “Open your eyes, Jilly. Can you open your eyes?”
    My eyes moved to Jilly’s feet. Her right foot was swelling like a balloon.
    My stomach lurched again. I felt really sick.
    I swallowed hard several times, forcing my dinner back down.
    â€œSomebody call for an ambulance,” Ms. Masters instructed.
    â€œI have a cell phone,” Marci said. She ran to get her bag.
    â€œJilly? Can you hear me?” Ms. Masters asked softly. “Can you open your eyes?”
    Jilly finally stirred.
    A dry, hacking sound burst from