Three Evil Wishes (9 page)

Mike raised a big net. “And I like to capture insects and torture them,” he said. “It's kind of a hobby.”

“I liked you better as bunnies,” the genie chimed in.

“Yo! Get him!” Roy cried suddenly.

Mike moved quickly. He raised the big insect net—and swooped it down over the startled genie's head.

The genie was so surprised—and Mike was so strong—that he pushed the genie to the ground.

This was our chance. “Jesse—run!” I screamed.

We both took off toward home.

I called out thanks to the Burger brothers.

“Thanks for changing us back to humans!” Roy called.

Well . . . they're
almost
human, I thought.

And I'd never been so glad to see them.

But how long could they hold the genie under the net?

Could Jesse and I get to the garage in time?

A
s we ran desperately through the woods, I tried to explain my plan to Jesse.

“We'll keep the garage dark,” I said breathlessly. “I'll stand my sculpture of you behind the worktable. I'll tell the genie that you are the one we picked to go in the bottle.”

“Huh? Me?” Jesse gasped, leaping over a tall, round rock. “Why does it have to be
me?”

“It won't really be you,” I told him, panting hard as I ran. The back of the garage came into view. “You hide in the back of the garage. We want the genie to think that the sculpture is you. We want the genie to put the
sculpture
in the bottle. That way, we'll be safe.”

We reached the front of the garage, gasping and panting.

“Will it work?” Jesse asked. “Will it fool him?”

“I don't know,” I replied, struggling to catch my breath. “Maybe if it's dark enough, he'll fall for it.”

I swallowed hard. “Maybe . . .” I crossed my fingers and prayed for good luck.

We both hoisted up the garage door.

I moved quickly to my worktable. I uncovered my life-size sculpture of Jesse.

The nose still wasn't right. But it was too late to worry about that.

Jesse hid behind the cartons in the back of the garage.

I heard a whisper of wind. Then saw the swirling purple smoke.

The genie floated quickly into the garage, his robe flowing around him. His eyes flashed purple, like two coals in a dying fire.

“Those bunny boys are strong,” he rasped. “But not strong enough to hold a wisp of smoke.”

“What did you do to them?” I demanded. “Did you turn them back into bunnies?”

He frowned. “That would be a waste of magic. I just left them there in the woods, swinging their net, wondering how I got away. Hoo. They looked very confused.”

His expression changed. “I needed to save my
magic. It takes a lot of strength to squeeze you into the bottle.”

He floated closer. I could feel the electric purple waves shooting off his body.

“Are you ready, Hannah?” he demanded, reaching out a hand. “Are you through trying to escape? Are you ready to enter your new home?”

“Uh . . . well . . . there's been a change of plan,” I told him.

He raised one purple eyebrow. “A change of plan?”

I nodded. I gestured to the Jesse sculpture, standing so still behind the worktable. “Jesse is going into the bottle,” I announced in a choked whisper. “He—he's being very brave.”

I pretended to cry. “Jesse has decided he will be the one,” I told the genie. I let out a sob. I made my shoulders tremble.

The genie turned to the figure of Jesse. He narrowed his eyes at it, squinting into the deep darkness.

Would he fall for my trick?

Would he believe that was Jesse standing there?

I
backed up to the full-length mirror. I stopped when I felt the mirror press against my back.

My eyes moved from the genie to the Jesse sculpture.

In the darkness of the garage, the sculpture looked so real, so lifelike.

But it stood so still. As still as a statue.

How bad was the old genie's eyesight?

Would he believe it was Jesse?

Would he put the sculpture in the bottle? Then go away and never come back?

I sucked in my breath as the genie floated closer to the worktable. He stared hard at the sculpture. Squinted at it for what seemed like hours!

“It won't be so bad, Jesse,” he told it. “It's a little cramped in there. And there's no bathroom. But after a hundred years or so . . . you'll get used to it.”

It's working!
I thought, crossing my fingers again.

It's working!

The genie lowered the bottle to the garage floor in front of him.

Then he raised both hands. And began to chant.

“Good-bye, Jesse,” I cried, sobbing loudly. “Good-bye. I'll miss you. I really will.”

I pretended to cry loudly. I covered my face with both hands and let out sob after sob.

But all the while, I had my eyes on the genie.

As the genie chanted, he swayed from side to side.

His voice grew louder. Stronger.

Clouds of purple floated around and around the garage. The purple mist floated around the bottle on the floor. And around my sculpture.

The genie waved his hands and swayed harder.

He chanted even louder.

Then he suddenly stopped.

The purple clouds vanished.

I gaped at him in shock. “What's wrong?” I whispered.

He turned to me. Even in the darkness of the garage I could see the anger on his twisted features.

“My eyesight is pretty bad, Hannah,” he rasped. “But not
that
bad.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered hoarsely.

“That's not Jesse,” the genie cried angrily. “That's your clay sculpture.”

He raised both hands toward me. His eyes glowed so brightly, they lit up the garage.

“Your little trick didn't work, Hannah,” the genie whispered. “Now you will have to pay.”

“N
ow you're going in the bottle! Have a pleasant journey, Hannah,” the genie cried.

He raised his hands toward me and began to chant.

He swayed his whole body and chanted louder.

I could see the purple clouds rising all around.

My eyes lowered to the brown bottle. I saw wisps of purple float around it.

I suddenly felt drawn to it. I could feel myself being pulled . . . pulled to the bottle.

I raised my eyes and saw the purple mist shooting toward me. Shooting from the genie's outstretched hands.

Like purple lightning. Aimed at me.

Pulling me. Pulling me to the bottle . . .

The genie's chant became a scream. He waved both hands hard.

Shot a final purple bolt of electricity at me.

I took a deep breath—

And ducked.

I hit the garage floor and rolled away.

And turned in time to see the bolt of purple lightning hit the full-length mirror that was behind me.

The lightning bounced off the mirror—and shot back to the genie.

Surrounded him. Swirled over him.

The genie blazed in purple light. A light so bright, I had to shield my eyes.

“Nooooooo!” I heard his scream of horror.

I opened my eyes in time to see the genie shrink inside the purple electricity. Shrink . . . shrink . . . into the brown bottle.

With a desperate leap, I dove to the floor—and shoved the cork deep into the bottle opening.

The bottle shook hard in my hand.

And then lay still.

Jesse crawled out from behind the cartons. “Wow!” he murmured. “Wow! How did you do that, Hannah?”

I struggled to catch my breath as I climbed to my feet. “I ducked,” I told Jesse. “That's all. I ducked—and the genie cast his spell on himself.”

Jesse stared down at the brown bottle. So still. So silent.

So harmless now.

“Whew!” He sighed. “My legs are still trembling.” He slapped me a high-five. “You did it! You did it!”

I picked up the bottle. “I won't feel safe until this is back in Fear Lake,” I said with a shudder.

“You mean—” Jesse started to say.

I nodded. “Yes. We have to take it there—right now. I have to know that it's gone forever.”

We were both weary and shaken. But we headed back through the Fear Street woods anyway.

I carried the bottle tightly in two hands. I wanted to run to the lake and toss the bottle away as fast as I could. But I walked slowly and carefully.

I didn't want to accidentally break the bottle and let the genie escape.

“Do you believe the Burger brothers actually helped us?” Jesse said as we made our way to the lakeshore.

“Yes. We kind of got our wish after all!” I
exclaimed. “I mean, they are our friends now. We don't have to be afraid of them anymore.”

“Weird,” Jesse replied, shaking his head. “I guess the genie came through for us in a way.”

I didn't care. When we reached the edge of the lake, sparkling like silver under the pale moonlight, I pulled back my arm—and heaved the bottle as high and as far as I could.

It sailed out far. And hit the water with a solid
plunk.

Water splashed up around it.

The bottle sunk below the surface. Then I saw it bob back up to the top.

Jesse and I both let out happy cheers. We actually hugged each other—something we haven't done since I was four!

We did a happy dance of celebration. Tossing each other around. Our shoes slapping the wet mud of the lakeshore.

I stopped dancing when I tripped over something.

I caught my balance and gazed down.

“What
is
that?” I cried.

Jesse bent and picked it up. It was a lamp. A strangely shaped brass lamp.

“Weird,” Jesse murmured, holding it up close to his face with both hands.

“It's like those magic lamps in fairy tales,” I told him. “You know. The kind you rub, and you get three wishes. And . . .”

“No, Jesse!” I cried. “No—
don't!
What are you doing? Don't rub it! DON'T! DON'T RUB IT!”

Too late.

Are you ready for another walk down Fear Street?

Turn the page for a terrifying sneak preview.