My Name Is Evil Read Online Free PDF

into view at the end of the pier.
    I swallowed hard. My heart began to race.
    I stopped outside the entrance. The tent flap had been pulled shut. Was she in there?
    I had been rehearsing what I’d say to Miss Elizabeth. But now it all flew out of my mind.
    I’ll just ask her why she said that about me, I decided. That’s all. I’ll just ask her why.
    I took a deep breath. Then I grabbed the tent flap with both hands and pulled it open.
    â€œHello?” I called in. My voice sounded tiny. “Anyone in here? Miss Elizabeth? Are you here?”
    No answer.
    I stepped inside—and let out a shocked gasp.
    One of the two lanterns remained on the tent wall, casting the only light. I spotted the other lantern, the glass cracked, on its side on the ground.
    The wooden table was overturned. A leg broken off.
    Next to it, one of the fortune-teller’s long, silky scarves lay torn and crumpled into a ball.
    The chairs—the two wooden chairs were splintered and broken. The poster of the human hand had been ripped in half.
    And the red glass ball—shattered—shards of broken glass over the tent floor. The ball—the crystal ball—smashed into a thousand pieces.

The next day in school I tried to shut the fortune-teller out of my mind. After school there was no time to think about her. I had a dance class.
    Jilly was there, too. I watched her in awe. She is such a graceful dancer. She seems to float over the floor.
    Dancing beside her, I felt like a circus elephant.
    I can’t compete with Jilly. But I’m going to the dance tryouts anyway, I decided. It’s my dream to make that company. I’m not going to give up without trying.
    I hurried home after the class. I had piles of homework.
    It was a cool autumn day. The air smelled sweet and fresh as I jogged onto my block. I waved to some kids raking leaves on their driveway.
    I stopped short when I reached my front yard. The backpack bounced heavily on my back.
    Was I seeing things?
    Or was that really Glen pushing the power lawn mower over our front lawn?
    â€œHey—!” I called to him and waved.
    He spun around. The mower roared. He cut the engine. “Maggie—what’s up?” he called.
    I ran over to him. “What are you doing?” I called. Dumb question. I felt my face grow hot and knew I was blushing.
    He wiped sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his gray jacket. “I mow all the lawns on this block,” he said. “Didn’t you ever see me?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œYour mom asked me to cut yours before winter comes.” He wiped his hands on his jeans legs. “The mower keeps conking out. I don’t know what its problem is.” He kicked it with his sneaker.
    It was chilly out, but he was sweating a lot. His curly hair—wild and unbrushed as always—glistened with sweat. I reached out and pulled a blade of grass off his cheek.
    â€œNice house.” He pointed. “You could fit my house in there about ten times!”
    â€œYou want to come in?” I blurted out. “I mean—if you’re thirsty or something. Come in and have a Coke or some Gatorade. When you finish mowing?”
    He nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Thanks. I have another lawn to do before dark.” He bent to start the mower up. “Catch you later.”
    I hurried into the house. “He’s definitely cool,” I murmured. I stepped inside and called out, “Mom—are you home?”
    Silence.
    I never can keep her work schedule straight.
    I grabbed a can of iced tea from the fridge and made my way up to my room to start my homework. Chirpy, my canary, started chirping away as soon as I entered the room. I walked over to her cage in front of the window and rubbed her yellow feathered back with one finger.
    And peeked out at Glen down below. He was leaning over the mower handlebars, moving quickly, making stripes across the grass. “So cute,” I muttered to