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

her lips. A gob of saliva ran out of her open mouth, down her cheek.
    â€œJilly?” Ms. Masters called. “Jilly? Can you hear me?”
    Jilly groaned. She blinked several times. “It … hurts,” she whispered. She moved a hand to her rib cage—then quickly jerked it away. “Ohhhh.”
    â€œLie still,” Ms. Masters said. “You might have broken a rib when you crashed into the wall.”
    Jilly sighed. “Wall?”
    â€œYou were spinning so hard,” Ms. Masters said. “You lost control and—”
    Jilly groaned again. “My foot. I … I can’t move it.”
    â€œDon’t try to move anything,” the teacher said. “We’ll get you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”
    â€œWhat … happened?” Jilly asked groggily. And then suddenly her expression changed. She uttered a sharp gasp as she saw me. Saw me standing there so tensely, my hand still clapped over my mouth.
    â€œMaggie!” she cried hoarsely.
    I started toward her, but her cold, angry eyes made me stop.
    â€œMaggie.” As she repeated my name, her face twisted in disgust. “You did this!”
    â€œN-no—!” I stammered.
    Jilly pointed an accusing finger at me. “I don’t know how, but you did this.”
    Marci and Deena were staring at me.
    â€œJilly, lie still.” Ms. Masters patted Jilly’s hand. “I think you’ve had a concussion. You’re confused. No one did anything to you, dear.”
    â€œJust like Glen and the lawn mower,” Jilly whispered, her finger trembling in the air. “Jackie told me what happened with Glen’s lawn mower. The fortune-teller was right. You’re evil! You’re EVIL!”
    â€œDon’t say that!” I screamed. “Jilly—don’t! It’s not true! You know it’s not true! It can’t be true! Don’t say that!”
    Jilly shut her eyes and uttered a moan of pain. “You did this to me! You did it, Maggie!” she whispered.
    Her words made everyone turn to me. They were staring at me.
    Staring at me as if Jilly had told the truth. As if I really had caused horrible things to happen.
    As if I really was evil.
    And then, I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t hold my hurt, my anger in.
    I began screaming at the top of my lungs. Shrieking like an insane person. Screaming at them all:
    â€œI’m not evil! I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!”

A few minutes later the paramedics arrived to take Jilly to the hospital. Ms. Masters hurried out to the hall to phone the Mullens.
    Marci and Deena got changed quickly, whispering to themselves. They would have to audition some other time. They kept glancing over at me, but they didn’t talk to me.
    I changed into my shoes and pulled a jacket over my leotard and tights. I just wanted to get out of there. To get away from their whispers and suspicious looks.
    How could Jilly say such a thing about me? How could she blame me like that?
    We’ve been friends since fourth grade. She knows me so well.
    She knows I wouldn’t hurt her.
    I stared at my hands. They didn’t burn anymore.
    Why did that happen again? I wondered.
    Every time my hands start to burn, something terrible happens. Every time. But that doesn’t mean I’m causing these things to happen—does it?
    I shoved my hands into my pockets. I didn’t want to think about that. I jumped down from the stage and ran up the auditorium aisle to the exit. I couldn’t wait to get home, to the safety of my room.
    But Ms. Masters stopped me in the hall. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Jilly was just upset,” she said softly. “She didn’t mean the crazy things she said.”
    â€œI … I know,” I whispered.
    â€œShe must have been in shock,” Ms. Masters said. “That’s the only explanation.”
    I nodded.
    â€œTry to put it out of your mind,