My Name Is Evil Read Free

briefs he was wearing!” Jackie exclaimed. All three sisters exploded with laughter.
    â€œHe looked like such a geek!” Jilly cried. “Standing there onstage in the stupid black underpants, trying to cover himself up.”
    â€œHe just stood there. He froze,” Jackie remembered. “And the whole auditorium went wild. Everyone just freaked.”
    â€œWe’ve called him Tarzan ever since,” Jilly said. “It makes him blush every time.”
    â€œIt was a year ago. You should let it drop. Give him a break,” I said.
    â€œWhy? Because he’s your boyfriend?” Jackie teased.
    â€œIt was so mean! Why did you do it in the first place?” I asked.
    She fiddled with the tiny glass beads on her necklace and grinned. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be funny.”
    â€œHey, check it out. A fortune-teller!” Jilly said. She pointed to a small black tent that stood beside an ice-cream cart. “Can we do it? I love fortune-tellers!”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “They make me nervous. I don’t even like watching them in movies.”
    â€œCome on, Maggie. It’s your birthday,” Jackie said, pulling me to the tent. “You have to have your fortune told on your birthday.”
    â€œLet’s see what the fortune-teller says about you and Glen!” Jilly teased.
    â€œI don’t think so,” I said.
    But as usual, they didn’t give me a choice. A few seconds later we were standing at the doorway to the dark tent.
    â€œWe’ll all have our fortunes told,” Jackie said. “My treat.”
    â€œThis is so cool!” Jilly whispered. “Do you think it’s a real psychic? Do you think she can really tell the future?”
    The three sisters started into the tent. I held back, staring at the red-and-black hand-lettered sign: MISS ELIZABETH. FORTUNE-TELLER. ONE DOLLAR.
    I suddenly realized that my heart was racing.
    Why do I feel so weird? I wondered. Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?

I followed my friends into the tent. The air inside felt hot and steamy. Two electric lanterns on the back tent wall splashed gray light over the fortune-teller’s small table.
    Miss Elizabeth sat hunched with her elbows on the table, head in her hands, staring into a red glass ball. She didn’t look up as we stepped inside. I couldn’t tell if she was concentrating on the red ball, or if she was asleep.
    The tent was completely bare, except for her table and two wooden chairs, and a large black-and-white poster of a human hand. The hand was divided into sections. There was a lot of writing all over the poster, too small for me to read in the smoky, gray light.
    As she stared into the red glass ball, the fortune-teller muttered to herself. She was a middle-aged woman, slender, with bony arms poking out from the sleeves of her red dress, and very large, pale white hands. Squinting into the light, I saw that the polish on her long fingernails matched the red of her dress.
    â€œHel-lo?” Jackie called, breaking the silence.
    Miss Elizabeth finally looked up. She was kind of pretty. She had big, round black eyes and dramatic red-lipsticked lips. Her hair was long and wavy, solid black except for a wide white streak down the middle.
    Her eyes moved from one of us to the other. She didn’t smile. “Walter, we have visitors,” she announced in a hoarse, scratchy voice.
    I glanced around, searching for Walter.
    â€œWalter is my late husband,” the fortune-teller announced. “He helps me channel information from the spirits.”
    Jackie and I exchanged glances.
    â€œWe’d like you to tell our fortunes,” Jilly said.
    Miss Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “One dollar each.” She held out her long, pale hand. “Four dollars please.”
    Jackie fumbled in her bag and pulled out four crumpled dollar bills. She handed them to the fortune-teller, who shoved them into a