Beware! It's Friday the 13th Read Free Page A

Snagglefahng is headed this way. He’s been stopping villagers and asking directions to Dragon Slayers’ Academy, which is just south of our fair village. Word is that Snagglefahng is out to seek revenge.”
    She shook her head. “Snagglefahng is famous for torching villages for fun. We just can’t take a chance on all those fabulous clothes going up in flames. The models, either,” she added. “But just as soon as that dragon leaves DSA, we’ll set a new date. The Toenail Fashion Show must go on!”
     
    “A wicked dragon is coming to DSA?” Gwen shivered. To Wiglaf’s dismay, she moved closer to him.
    “See, Gwen? What did I tell you?” Janice exclaimed happily. “There’s always gobs of stuff happening around here!”
    “But who could Snagglefahng be looking for here?” Erica wondered out loud.
    “For me,” Brother Dave whispered. The color had drained from his face. “Snagglefahng hath tracked me down at last.”
    “ You , Brother Dave?” exclaimed Wiglaf.
    “Whoa, Bro!” exclaimed Janice. “Why would a dragon be stalking you?”
    “’Tis a long story,” said Brother Dave. Then he took off toward the South Tower.
    “What can he mean?” asked Wiglaf.
    “Search me,” said Erica. “Who’s that ?”
    She had turned and was pointing to a large figure on the castle steps. Whoever it was wore a lacy cap tied under the chin. And a short, leopard-print tunic that left his hairy legs and one hairy shoulder bare. He wore old, holey boots. Something that looked very like an eel hung around the person’s neck.

    TWEEEEEEEEET! A whistle sounded.
    “Egad!” cried Angus. “Uncle Mordred?”
    “Whoopie!” Janice cried out. “Dragon Whackers was never this wacky!”
    “Neither was Princess Prep,” muttered Gwen. “Ever.”
    “Today,” boomed Mordred, “is Friday the 13th. Unlucky day! Unlucky day! Oh, woe!”
    Lobelia joined Class I at the foot of the castle steps. When she saw her brother, she dabbed at her eyes with her hanky. “Oh, this is the worst he’s ever been!”
    “Is he ill?” asked Wiglaf.
    “Yes,” sniffled Lobelia. “Mordie has triskaidekaphobia.”
    “Does—does it run in our family, Auntie?” asked Angus.
    “Is it catching?” asked Erica.
    “’Tis the plague!” cried Torblad.
    “No, it’s not the plague,” snapped Lobelia. “Triskaidekaphobia only means ‘fear of Friday the 13th.’ And Mordie’s got a whopper of a case. Just look at him!”
    “Unlucky day!” cried Mordred over and over. “Unlucky day!”
    Lobelia shouted, “Mordie, stop!”
    “Unlucky da—huh?” Mordred stared at Lobelia. “A wicked dragon is headed to my school, sister!” he cried. “Unlucky us!”
    “Oh, piffle, Mordie!” said Lobelia. “You know how to turn bad luck to good!”
    “I do?” Mordred seemed puzzled.
    “Of course you do,” said Lobelia. “All it takes is a few good-luck charms!”
    “Ah, yes!” cried Mordred. “I am wearing good-luck charms. See? I have on my lucky bonnet. My lucky booties. My lucky wrestling suit.”
    “So that’s what it is,” said Erica.
    “Around my neck,” Mordred went on, “I’m wearing an eel—a lucky fish known to ward off evil! Ward off evil! Ward off—”
    “Mordie!” yelled Lobelia. “Button it up!”
    Mordred blinked. “Students!” he cried. “I have prepared for such an unlucky day!” He picked up a box at his feet. “In here, I have a lucky bonnet for each of you!”
    “Hooray!” cried Torblad again.
    “He’s joking, right?” asked Gwen.
    “I fear not,” Lobelia said, and she began to weep in earnest.
    On Mordred’s orders, Frypot began handing out the lucky bonnets.
    Wiglaf felt foolish as he tied his on. Yet if it would help to keep the wicked dragon away from Brother Dave, he would wear his lucky bonnet forever!
    “One for you,” said Frypot. He offered a bonnet to Princess Gwen.
    “No, thank you,” said Gwen.
    “Not a choice, really,” said Frypot. “On with it.”
    Gwen folded her arms