As soon as Jillian stepped through the front door, Mom's voice called from the kitchen, "Jillian, is that you? Wash up and help me with dinner!"
"One second!" she replied. "I wanna drop my backpack off in my room."
She rushed up the stairs two at a time - felt a twinge of relief when she saw the paper still in the door - and slung her heavy backpack onto her bed. It was still weird walking into a room with yawning bare spaces on the walls, but she hardly noticed it now as she dragged her desk chair to the closet door. She climbed up and rapped on the suitcase on the top shelf. Shave and a haircut…
Two knocks replied. The lid opened, and the big round eyes appeared. "Well, aren't you a pleasant sight to wake up to," the wooden face grinned.
She leaned her arms against the shelf, a smirk playing on her own. "So-o-o-o, I have to babysit tonight. What can we get up to?"
"Anything you want, doll," he giggled and allowed himself to be pulled into her arms.
She hopped off the chair and hoisted him up so that his stiff arm could hang comfortably over her shoulder. It was funny how commonplace it felt to carry him around now - or how glad she was to hold him, knowing he was safe. It had been impossible to concentrate at school the whole day; again and again she had glanced at the clock, wondering if Mary-Ellen might have done something to him... She gave him a quick, friendly squeeze, dropped a small treat for Petey, and set up the paper again before she hurried downstairs.
Dad was still in the bathroom showering, but Mom was dolled up and obviously impatient to head out the door. She was in the middle of throwing together a quick salad when Jillian came into the kitchen, and she made a face when her eyes fell upon her daughter's cargo. "Really, Jillian, do you have to have that dummy down here?"
"He likes to know what's going on in the house," Jillian replied matter-of-factly as she propped the puppet in the nearest wooden chair - it was getting easier to tell those parts of the truth which she knew no one would believe. "You let Mary-Ellen sit at the dinner table."
"That's different, you know."
Jillian shrugged, keeping her face straight. "Well, Katie and Amanda keep trying to take Slappy into their room, so I'm keeping an eye on him for Harrison."
Mom pointed to the stove, motioning for Jillian to start stirring the contents in the big silver pot, and asked, "Well, why doesn't Harrison just keep his toy at his house?"
"Because he's waiting for Dad to fix him," Jillian reminded her, grabbing the big cooking spoon and starting on the angel-hair pasta, "and Dad's still working on the table."
"Yes, but why does it have to stay here?" Mom pressed. "Your father won't be finished for another month at least. Harrison can keep his property at his own home until then."
Jillian turned in alarm. "Slappy's not hurting anyone," she said quickly. "Right now. Besides, I need him for the party."
Mom shook her head, returning to the salad. "Now, the spaghetti is almost ready. The sauce just needs to be heated, and I have a loaf garlic bread for you to toast in the oven. Dad and I won't be gone long, but you need to make sure the girls take their bath before bed. If they give you any trouble tonight, let me know, and they're grounded for life."
Jillian had to bite her cheek to contain the smile that threatened to spread. "Yes, Mom."
This should be fun.
Mom set the salad bowl to the side and started laying out plates in the dining room for the three girls before she went back upstairs to check on Dad. Jillian waited until the footsteps faded before she turned to the slumped puppet. "I think this tomato sauce could use a little kick. Like Tabasco. What do you think?"
He raised his head. "Not bad, but I think we can do better," he smirked.
She moved Slappy to the counter so that they could talk while she cooked - and gathered supplies. She was not going to risk doing anything until Mom and Dad were out the door, but it did not hurt to be prepared - especially when the items in question looked so innocent by themselves.
"Now, make sure you already put some leftovers in the refrigerator, unaltered," Slappy instructed. "Because your sisters will tell your parents how horrible it's gonna taste, but Mommy and Daddy will have something they can see and taste for themselves. So, who will they believe then?"
"Got it," she nodded and grabbed a Tupperware tub from the cabinet. "It's a good thing you're so sneaky. I would've never thought of that."
"Talent, m'dear," he replied, dusting his fingertips. Suddenly, his eyes changed. "By the way, do your sisters like baths? Or would they prefer to take a shower if it means getting out quicker?"
She glanced at him, wondering where this was headed. "It depends on the day," she replied, "and whether they're trying to stall and not go to bed."
"Okay, second question, are there any hard candies around the house? Or, better yet, chicken bouillon?"
She started giggling. "Don't tell me…"
"Okay, I won't," he quipped.
To think she used to struggle to find just one perfect revenge! Slappy just doled out tricks left and right like he was throwing candy in a parade. "Where do you come up with these ideas, Slappy?"
He gave a small bow. "I'm an artist. It's how I express myself," he said with a smug smile. "But I'll admit I've never had an accomplice tall enough to pull that trick before, so shake a leg, sister."
She held up the ladle. "Then can you keep an eye on this for me?"
He gave her a look. "Oh, brilliant, Jillian. Ask the wooden puppet to get close to the gas stove." He shuddered, a look of genuine discomfort on his face as he shot a glance at the active burner and its blue flames.
That made her pause. "You know, Slappy," she said carefully, "Mom does have a point. You would be a lot safer over at Harrison's house."
He started to make gagging sounds - which sounded extra strange in his raspy voice.
"C'mon, you might like it," she encouraged. "Mrs. Cohen works two jobs, and Harrison's usually on his grandma's half of the duplex when he's home, so you'd have the place to yourself. You could move around during the day, watch T.V., get a snack..." And Mary-Ellen won't put you to sleep ever again, she added silently.
His round eyes locked on hers. "You're the one who woke me up, Jillian," he said. "Not Harrison. And even if he had, I'd still prefer you."
She averted her gaze, suddenly finding the bubbling pot very fascinating.
Finally, the noodles were soft enough. She turned off the stove - to the doll's obvious relief - and fished out the strainer. "I've been thinking, Slappy," she said as she poured the boiling water and clumps of spaghetti into the silver bowl. "Can't we just get rid of Mary-Ellen? Like, lock her up in a suitcase and dump her on the other side of town?"
Slappy shook his head. "If I know anything about doll magic - and, what ya know, I do - the twerps probably brought her to life, so she's connected to one of them."
Jillian frowned, quickly setting the pot on a cool burner. "So? What does that have to do with locking her up?"
He steepled his fingers. "Well, us dolls don't give up our territory that easily, sweetheart," he replied, looking her right in the eye. "Remember my brother, Woody? The evil guy? My old humans, the Powell sisters, tried to get rid of him. Stuffed him in a suitcase and buried him alive." He shuddered a little. "Guy still came back."
Buried him ALIVE? She stared at his little face, clouded now with discomfort. "Why? How could he come back?"
He gave her a condescending look. "Magic, obviously, dummy - that, and Kris Powell brought him to life," he added. "He would always be able to find her, no matter where she tossed him or how far she ran. They were bonded for life - at least until the idiot got himself a makeover from a steamroller."
Jillian felt her jaw drop. "A steamroller?!" she cried, staring.
He nodded. "That's what I said."
"A steamroller?!"
"No kill like overkill," he quipped and began to hum, "Oh, a peanut sat on a railway track. His heart was all in a flutter. Around the bend came the Number Ten and - ohhh, peanut butter!"
Jillian winced. "That's creepy."
He gave her a half-smile. "You don't get out much, do you, kiddo? Don't worry. We'll fix that," he said, taking her hand and giving it a pat. "Anyway, my point is: when a connection between a doll and human is made, it's very, very hard to break. Only death can sever it."
"And that's really creepy."
"I find it quite enjoyable actually," he replied and gave her hand a light squeeze. "Now, are you going to set up the shower for the girls, or do I have to get myself a stepladder?"
Mom always bought bags of assorted candies for the little dish in the living room whenever she entertained the clients and coworkers Dad brought home, and she kept them on the top shelf of the pantry whenever not in use. Jillian and the twins were never allowed to touch the sweets without permission, but, fortunately, Dad had had a visit a few weeks ago, and there was still an opened bag in the pantry. Surely, no one would notice if a small handful went missing.
Armed with the tiny weapons stuffed inside her sweater pocket, Jillian started up the stairs, going as quietly as she could. It was a simple trick, but, man, it was going to be effective. Jillian was already rehearsing what she was going to say when she gave her report to her mother later that night - about how the girls had ran the shower but had sneakily not bathed themselves completely. The girls' sticky skin would be the proof in the pudding for her parents - and combine that with the girls refusing to finish their dinner, letting perfectly good food go to waste, this was going to be a cinch.
It did not even begin to avenge those two little four-year-olds, but at least Slappy had even more ideas for tomorrow...
Jillian felt a grin spread across her face as she reached the top of the stairs -
- and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Katie materialized in front of her.
Jillian made a mad grab for the banister, barely managing to steady herself in time. "Don't do that!" she snapped, clutching her pounding chest. "I could've fallen!"
"I didn't mean to," her sister said softly, her squeaky voice sounding odd. Her little hands wrung together. "Jillian, can I talk to you real quick?"
Jillian climbed the last few steps onto the landing, quick to move away from the edge. "I got dinner cooking downstairs," she said briskly, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she strode past. "Can it wait?"
"Please?" the younger girl pressed, following after her right to the bathroom door. "It's really, really important."
Jillian was about to close the door in her face, but as she looked down, something in her sister's eyes made her stop. She exhaled, spinning on the ball of her foot. "What do you want?" she drawled, slumping against the door frame.
Katie's gaze fixed squarely on hers. "You need to apologize to Mary-Ellen."
Jillian was taken aback - and she frowned. "Excuse me? Why should I apologize?" she demanded. "I never did anything to her."
"You won't let her be with Slappy, and she hates you," Katie replied. She pressed her hands together, giving her a pleading look. "She doesn't like it when you call her ugly or when you shoved her head in macaroni last week or when you say she can't go with us out of the house - but if you apologize, then we can all be friends."
"'Friends'?" Jillian repeated flatly.
Katie nodded fiercely. "Then Mary-Ellen can play with Slappy, and she'll be nice to you."
Jillian felt her hands clench. "So, I should apologize - when you guys stuffed Petey into Slappy?" she demanded softly, taking a step forward. Katie immediately backed away. "When you guys messed up my clown act?" she went on, taking another step. "When she put Slappy to sleep? When she slaps me when you swing her around? When she wanted to give me a haircut? When I bought that dumb doll her own ice-cream cone - before I even knew she was alive?"
Katie was almost to the other side of the hall now, and she suddenly sprang to the side, moving out of the line of forced retreat before she could be completely cornered between the wall and the wooden banister. "You'll be sorry if you don't," she warned, shaking herself as her frown deepened.
Jillian gritted her teeth. "Bring. It. On."
Katie opened her mouth to reply - and suddenly, her own bedroom door creaked at the other end of the hall, and Amanda stuck her head into the hall.
"Katie," her twin said in a simple voice, "Mary-Ellen wants to talk to you."
Katie visibly hesitated - but then she jerked a nod, starting forward. "Coming."
"Better wash up," Jillian called after them as the door began to shut. "We'll be eating just as soon as the garlic bread's done."
Her parents came out of their bedroom then, and Jillian stepped aside to let both of them head downstairs. "I'll call you guys later to check in on you," Mom said as she passed. "I've already told the twins that I'm going to ask you about their behavior."
"Have fun," she replied. Jillian waited until she heard the front door swing shut and the lock click before she bolted into the bathroom.
It was not at all hard to unscrew the shower head. Within seconds she unwrapped the candies and stuffed them inside. She headed back downstairs to start on the garlic bread - just in time to glance through the small glass planes of the front door and see Harrison coming up the front steps.
"Hey, you left school before I could talk to you," he said as soon as she opened the storm door.
She shrugged. "Yeah, I'm watching the girls tonight." That, and she had been so anxious to check on Slappy that she had barely acknowledged anyone on the school grounds as she had made a beeline for her bike. "What's up?"
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "So, yesterday, I called the magic store, and they don't have any ventriloquist dummies."
"Bummer," she replied, leaning against the door frame. "Did you try the pawn shops?"
"Yeah, three, but I only found those little hand puppets that preschool teachers use. So, I called the Little Theater, and they gave me the ventriloquist's address," he added and held up the scrap of paper so that she could see.
Jimmy O'James? Jillian frowned. "Why do you want that?"
"I'll bet he has another dummy he could sell us," Harrison replied brightly. "Or maybe he could loan us one. What do you think?"
She hesitated, not sure how to respond. It was odd to remember the young ventriloquist. The last time she had seen him he had begged her to get rid of Slappy before vanishing without a trace. She could still see the terrified look on his serious face, like a monster was about to eat him - but Slappy was not that bad. Sure, he took a little getting used to, but would someone so supposedly horrible have played checkers with her after a sabotaged party or have summoned bugs just for her little lizard? The dummy certainly had no love lost toward his former partner whenever he did speak of him - and, really, who would be thrilled to find out they had been stuffed inside a trash can after they had been knocked unconscious?
"He might be busy," she said carefully. "How can you be sure he has other dummies?"
"You never know. If he threw out Slappy, he must have a second one to use, right?"
Her mouth twitched. "I guess."
"We should at least try," he pressed. "Can you come with me?"
She shook her head. "Babysitting, remember?"
"I mean, tomorrow. There's no school because of the teacher's conference," he reminded her. "Maybe your mom can drive us."
She considered that. She certainly did want to have a word with Jimmy and find out just why he had thrown her little friend into the trash - and... maybe the ventriloquist might just happen to mention to Harrison that Slappy was alive. If he did, Harrison could finally get in on the secret while she could still keep her promise - and if Harrison knew, then Slappy would not have to play dead around him, and he would have one more human he could trust. Maybe - just maybe - if the two of them could actually talk with each other, they could become friends. Then the three of them could work as a team...
"Hey, can I come in real quick?" Harrison asked, cutting into her thoughts. "I got some great ideas for our ventriloquist act."
Oh, yeah. They still needed a script. Funny how revenge could make one forget things. "Sure," she replied and stepped back to let his large frame step through the door.
He headed into the den, dropping his backpack on the old, plaid couch, and began to pull out what looked like library books with laughing cartoon drawings on the covers. Laugh-a-Minute Joke Book, The Gut-Buster's Guide to Giggles and Guffaws, and Laugh Yourself Silly were some of the titles. "Where are your sisters?" he asked. "Aren't they usually hogging the T.V. around now?"
"Not tonight," she replied and glanced toward the door that led to the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she added. Harrison just gave a thumbs up and flipped through one of his books.
Slappy was picking up a long noodle when she came in. He turned his head, a mischievous smile on his red lips, and opened his mouth to speak -
"Do you have anything to eat?" Harrison called from the den.
Slappy's eyes instantly narrowed.
"One sec!" Jillian called back and turned back to the dummy, holding up her hands. "I can explain."
"Three little words I've longed to hear you say," he hissed back. "What's he doing here?"
"He's here for the act," she whispered. "We gotta write a script, remember?"
His little jaw clicked. "Tell him to leave. WE already have plans for this evening, darling."
"We also have a job to do this weekend if we want any money," she retorted, "and you promised to help." She then turned back toward the den. "Spaghetti good, Harrison?"
"When is it ever not?" Harrison quipped back, and she heard him rise to his feet and approach the kitchen. Slappy drooped against the wall just as the tall boy entered.
"Hey, buddy," he greeted the dummy with a careless wave and made a beeline for the cabinet where the dishes were kept. "Were you practicing with him?" he asked Jillian.
"You might say that," she replied, fingering the little pile of supplies. "Enjoy the food while you can," she warned as Harrison began to scoop noodles onto the plate. "It won't be so tasty in a bit." She held up the little bottle of Dad's cayenne-pepper tablets.
He looked at her in surprise - but then she saw his dark eyes changed as he caught on. A bright smile appeared on his large face. "Need help?"
"Well, you can help make the special spaghetti sauce," she said sweetly and handed him the bottle along with a few other choice ingredients.
"Aw, man," he laughed as he looked at the labels. Jillian made sure to store an unaltered helping of food in a Tupperware bin before she allowed Harrison to start mixing.
As soon as Harrison turned his huge back, Slappy raised his head, and he shot her an ugly look. Get rid of him. Now.
She pressed her hands together. Give him a chance, she mouthed.
Slappy's glare deepened.
Jillian frowned and stepped closer, leaning in. "I had to step in pudding. I say he can help," she whispered to him, undeterred, and turned away without another word.
Jillian popped in the garlic bread into the oven, setting the timer for fifteen minutes, before she retrieved the vinegar and the eyedropper. She would have to cut the bread into slices first anyway, so she would be able to experiment on a few first. The trick would be to put on just enough to make it gross while not making it so noticeable that the girls smelled it before they even took a bite.
"This is a pretty big step up for you," Harrison commented as he finished stirring the red sauce. "I mean, last week you didn't want to do anything that would get you grounded for life, but now you're rigging their dinner."
"Things change," she replied as she grabbed the big ceramic serving bowl to place the spicy spaghetti in. "This time around I know if they go tattling, Mom and Dad won't believe them."
Harrison quirked a dark eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
She leaned back against the counter. "We-e-ell, a certain mastermind might have done a few things to make them get in trouble for once," she said, giving Slappy a subtle, appreciative wink. "Now, Mom and Dad don't think they're so cute anymore."
Harrison started to laugh. "Good for you!"
"Yep," she quipped. "See, someone told me that grown-ups always favor little kids. So, I can't prank the girls without getting into trouble, right?"
"Guess not."
"But what if it looked like the girls were pulling mean tricks on my parents instead?" she continued. "Mom and Dad wouldn't like that, would they?"
Harrison nodded. "What did you do?"
Jillian felt her grin stretch. Oh, where to start? She really wanted to tell Harrison the truth - not that she would, even if she did not have Slappy sitting right beside her arm - but maybe if she started talking about the dummy's tricks, and if Harrison responded favorably to them, Slappy's own desire to brag would make him want to tell Harrison himself. Someday. Hopefully.
As she scooped the red noodles into the serving bowl, she told Harrison about the worms in the bed, the pudding in her shoes, the torn-up homework, the orange juice, and a few of Slappy's other tricks from the list - editing it down, of course. "And I might've stuffed my dad's fifty-dollar bill into Katie's piggy bank," she finished with a snicker.
Harrison had been chuckling along with her, but now his dark eyes bulged. "You did that?" he asked, much like Slappy had done, but he sounded a lot more shocked.
"Yep," she said proudly.
His brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like you."
"Well, I did it," she insisted, frowning. She had not even needed Slappy's help for that one.
He held up his hands. "I believe you. I believe you. It's just, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "A little much, don't you think? I mean, there's worms in the bed, and then there's..." he paused, grimacing, "...stealing."
She narrowed her eyes. "Harrison, they put soap in our pie," she reminded him. "They could've blinded us - or those kids. They crossed a line this time. We gotta fight mean. Besides, Dad got his money back, so he wasn't hurt."
"I guess," he replied and fidgeted with the checkered tablecloth.
Her frown deepened, and she pointed a finger at him. "Hey, you were the one who wanted to put bugs in their drinks. How is hiding money any different?"
His mouth twitched. "You're right," he agreed with a reluctant sigh. "Take no prisoners, right?" He suddenly nodded his head toward the door. "So, uh, wanna look at the joke books?" he asked quickly. "I have this terrific idea for our act. Wanna hear it?"
"Sure," she said and waited for him to head into the den before she turned to collect Slappy, scooping him into her arms.
His head snapped toward her, shooting her a withering glare.
Jillian frowned. "He's my best friend," she told him. "We could use his help." The scowl only deepened. Jillian shook her head at him. "Just think about it, alright? For me? Please?" He did not respond, but she did not expect him to right then. Without another word, she followed after Harrison.
Harrison flopped down on the furthest side of the couch, almost knocking over the stack of joke books. "Alright, so we won't know which jokes we really want until we know what the other dummy looks like, right?"
"I guess," Jillian replied as she sat down on the other side of the pile, propping the dummy beside her.
Harrison held up a notebook. "So, I had an idea. What if the act was about another dummy wanting to be funny? Like, really funny? Maybe Slappy is this famous dummy, so the other guy wants lessons, but he only knows lame jokes - like, beyond lame. Slappy tries to teach him some good ones, but the other guy doesn't get it, so Slappy just starts to make fun of him instead."
Jillian glanced down at the cracked face, but, of course, he did not reply, not even to twitch an eyelid. "It could be funny," she said slowly. "Slappy is definitely star material."
Harrison picked up the top book and flipped to a page with a torn piece of notebook paper for a bookmark. "I've already been getting a lotta ideas. We can go through these and pick out the best - and the worst - to use for our script."
His dark eyes were gleaming brighter than Jillian had ever seen them. Last week she practically had to drag him by the ear to get him motivated for the clown act, but now he was taking the initiative as if their little business had been his idea from the start. Of course, she reflected, Harrison loved puppets. Who else would have grabbed a broken dummy from a trash can and taken him home?
Jillian took the next book in the pile, angling it so that Slappy could look too - but she thought she heard a small scoff of disgust escape the wooden head. "I like that Slappy gets to shine in this," she said, giving the dummy a small, but deliberate, nudge. Just give him a chance.
It was then that she heard the creak of floorboards.
Jillian turned her head. "Katie, Amanda, you better not be trying to sneak into the basement to watch T.V.," she warned.
"We're not," Katie's squeaky voice called back from the living room. "We can't find one of our bean dolls."
"Can you help us look?" Amanda chimed in.
"After dinner," Jillian replied briskly. "It's almost ready. Did you guys wash up?"
She heard Katie make a disgusted sound before both pairs of feet stomped towards the downstairs bathroom.
Jillian leaned closer to Harrison. "Almost showtime," she grinned.
Harrison covered his mouth to suppress a snicker. "Maybe you should grab a camera," he whispered.
"Hmph!" came a raspy snort.
Jillian froze - but Harrison's grin stretched. "Hey, that's pretty good. I didn't know you could throw your voice."
"I… practiced," she replied, shooting Slappy a look.
"And you thought I'm weird for liking ventriloquism," he teased.
"I think you're weird anyway," she returned, earning another laugh.
Harrison pointed to the opened notebook page, which was covered in scribbles. "I've found a lot of great jokes for Slappy. Here, let me show you what I've been working on," and he reached for the dummy before she could stop him.
Jillian had to force herself not to make a mad grab for Slappy as he was hauled into Harrison's lap. She tried to give a casual smile, but she knew it must have looked strained. "Hey, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'll be careful," he promised, leaning Slappy's skinny torso over one arm while he slipped his fingers into the hole in the wooden back - and nothing else. "Huh," he said and tried again, but his hand stopped just as his knuckle tapped the side. Harrison jiggled and twisted his hand, but try as he might, it would not go in.
"That's weird," he frowned. "My hand fit before." He rested the dummy against his leg and tried to gently pull the folds of checkered cloth back to examine the hole, but even the fabric would not budge. The small opening remained the same size. His serious gaze shot to Jillian. "Did the wood get warped or something?"
"I… couldn't tell you," she replied even as her heart sank.
Harrison struggled with the hole, but it was hard for Jillian to watch without gagging. "Here, give him to me," she ordered, fighting hard to keep back the sudden nausea. Harrison passed Slappy over, and Jillian pretended to inspect him. "Why don't you read me what you got so far?" she suggested.
"Sure," he replied, but it was clear he was disappointed as he gazed at the limp form of his broken dummy, dangling lifelessly over Jillian's arm - and, fortunately, he did not seem to hear the faint sniff of contempt that escaped the puppet.
This was not going at all like she had pictured it, Jillian thought glumly.
Maybe she should have just left Slappy on the counter so that he could have some freedom to move about - but she had not wanted him to feel left out while she and Harrison worked on the script. She wanted him to be in on their act as an equal partner - even if he wanted nothing to do with Harrison.
"...Well, what do you think?" she heard Harrison say, and she realized he was looking at her expectantly. She gave him a quick smile, but he grimaced. "Is it that boring?"
"No, I just - " Fortunately, she was saved by the creak of floorboards again.
"We're eating as soon as the garlic bread's ready," she called over her shoulder.
"There's still five minutes," Amanda replied by the stairs. Her normally calm voice sounded strange, almost upset. "We gotta find Mr. Beanie!" Both pairs of feet thundered upstairs.
"'Mr. Beanie'?" Harrison repeated, raising a dark eyebrow.
"Six-year-olds," Jillian snorted, rolling her eyes.
"Still better than 'Zappy'," he returned. "So, what do you think of this part?" He started to use his raspy Slappy voice. "That joke was horrible, dummy. You're so stupid that when somebody told you it was chilly outside, you went out with a bowl."
Jillian winced a little. "I've heard that one before," she admitted. "Slappy deserves something a little more original."
"Hear, hear," the dummy chimed.
Harrison's mouth dropped open - and then he broke out into a laugh. "Wow! That sounded just like how Jimmy O'James did the voice."
Jillian recovered from her shock. "It comes and goes," she said quickly, moving her hand behind Slappy's back to make it look like she was controlling him, but her fingers rested just outside the little hole - which was not so little now, she noticed. She looked down at the blank eyes. "Slappy, is there something you want to tell Harrison?"
She waited a few moments with bated breath, but the dummy remained still.
"Guess not," she said lamely.
"You gotta do the voice for him when we go see him," Harrison chuckled. He then opened to a bookmarked page and held up one hand like a sock puppet. "One of my favorites is this one here. 'Hey, Jillian, do you know the difference between a dead skunk and a peanut butter sandwich?'" he made his hand ask, obviously trying to keep his lips still.
"No, what?" she replied.
The thick hand shook its makeshift head. "Remind me never to ask you for a sandwich!"
Jillian gave a small laugh. "The kids will like that."
"Hmph!" the dummy snorted again.
Jillian rolled her eyes before she grabbed the dummy and sat him in her lap. "Slappy, do you have anything to say about Harrison's script?" Either put up or shut up, buster.
The puppet did not reply for a long moment. Finally - slowly - he turned his head.
"You want me to talk, Jillian?" he asked sweetly. ...Except it was not in his usual shrill, hoarse voice - because, Jillian immediately realized, he was imitating her impression of him. "Fine, I'll talk." He whirled around in her arms and faced the boy.
"Hey, there, Harrison - or should I call you Scare-rison? Is that your face, or did a Halloween mask eat your head?" he demanded.
The boy's large eyes widened.
Jillian felt her stomach tightened. "Slappy, don't you dare - " she tried to say, but the puppet kept talking, still in her voice.
"I used to travel with a carnival that had better-looking freaks than you," he taunted. "If ugliness were bricks, you'd be the Great Wall of China! You're so ugly that when you walk into banks, they turn the cameras off! You're so ugly you went into a haunted house, and the monsters accused you of copying their costumes!"
"Slappy!" Jillian warned through gritted teeth. Harrison was not saying anything. His eyes were jumping between her and the dummy - and there was no way she was going to let Slappy make her best friend think she was saying those nasty things to him.
Slappy, meanwhile, scoffed at her. "What's your problem, Jillian?" he demanded. "Isn't this what you wanted? Me talking to your sweet, darling Harrison? Besides, the jokes are just going over his head anyway - bet that's a first!" he sneered at the tall boy. "Who said you could write comedy anyway? Your mommy? Ha! She's so stupid she tried to play 'Four Corners' in a round room! When you both went to the Wizard for a brain, did he make you share? Ha-ha! You're so stupid you tried to climb Mountain Dew! Why don't you leave the jokes to the professionals and go back to eating paste?"
"Slappy, I'm warning you - " she started to say, but she was interrupted again - this time as Harrison burst out laughing.
He slapped his huge thigh, doubling over. "That's what I'm talking about, Jillian!" he cried. "See? The act practically writes itself!" He grabbed his notebook. "C'mon, go back to the beginning. What was that thing about the Great Wall of China?"
Jillian blinked. "You actually liked that stuff?"
He flashed her a big grin. "Sure! I mean, whoever heard of a polite dummy? Even Lamb Chop had her moments."
Of course, he liked it. He was Harrison.
"Besides," he continued, "I know you're just joking. There's a lot worse stuff somebody could say."
Slappy jerked his head forward. "Is that a challenge?" he demanded, his voice becoming shriller. "Well, here's one for you. What do you get when you cross your mother with a garbage disposal - "
"Slappy!" Jillian cut in with a warning look, grabbing his shoulders.
The puppet sneered. "What? He said he likes it, Jillian," he retorted before he turned back to the boy. "Hey, how 'bout you meet me over by the knife drawer, Harrison, and I'll show you something really funny?"
Harrison just nodded. He was not even watching them now as his thick hand scribbled away. "This is great, Jill. Keep 'em comin'."
Slappy barked a laugh - which sounded strange with that slightly feminine tone. "Oh, like Jill has enough brain cells for comedy," he said nastily. "This girl would lose her head if we didn't tape it down every morning. I guess you don't need to get a second dummy after all, Harrison, because we already have one!" He turned his head to meet Jillian's eyes. "Right, doll face?"
Jillian suppressed a shiver, resisting the urge to avert her gaze. It was not the insults that really bothered her - she had heard a lot more hurtful comments from Alyssa Thomas in the third grade - but it was the intense look in his cold, hard eyes when he said them - angry, almost predatory.
She drew herself up, trying to look calmer than she felt. "I don't know. I think I could outsmart you," she said slowly.
Slappy snorted. "Craftier beasts than you have tried."
"Well, I had a thought," she continued, keeping her gaze fixed on his. "You might not know this, but you're the puppet, and I'm the ventriloquist."
"Well, somebody gets a gold star today!" Slappy cracked.
She gave his back a soft pat. "Yeah, but - now hear me out on this - in order for a dummy act to work, only one of us can be speaking at a time, right? So, if you want to say anything, you'll have to wait until I'm done talking - because I'm talking for you, aren't I, Slappy?"
She saw the realization dawn on his wooden countenance. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could utter another syllable.
"Now, what if I kept talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking," and here she paused to suck in an exaggerated breath, "and talking and talking and talking? Or what if I started to sing, Slappy? I have the perfect song for you, buddy. You'll love it. Listen. This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend…"
Harrison began to snicker. "Where do you come up with these ideas?" he cried.
She did not reply but kept up the song. "...And they'll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesn't end…"
Slappy did not even blink, but a shadow crossed his face as his eyes continued to stare at her - as if he were trying to bore a hole inside her skull. She had just begun the fourth round of the eternal tune when, suddenly, the little wooden arm jerked - right into her side.
"Oww!" she cried out, losing her grip on the dummy, and he flopped over to his side, staring blankly at the joke books.
"You okay?" Harrison asked, leaning forward.
"Y-Yeah, I m-must've bumped him accidentally," she said through her teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. She got to her feet, hoisting the stiff little body into her arms. "I'll be right back," she told Harrison, and she was glad he did not question why she was taking the dummy with her. He was too busy jotting down ideas, still chuckling to himself.
She all but threw the puppet onto the dining table, causing the dishes Mom had laid out to rattle. "That hurt, Slappy!" she hissed, clutching the throbbing area. "What's the matter with you?"
The dummy snorted. "Oh, please, that was just a love tap," he sneered.
"Love tap, my foot!" she shot back. "I've never seen you act like this!"
A scowl appeared. "Because you know me SO well, RIGHT, Jillian?" he snapped through his teeth. "Because you can talk for me when I can't. Because I am ever so HELPLESS without you." His little hands tightened. "Well, you wouldn't HAVE to talk for me if you had sent that freak away. We COULD'VE had a nice evening together - but I guess you'd rather have me lifeless on a counter while you and Harrison put OUR plan into action!"
His blue eyes were ablaze, but there was more than just rage in his glare now. Disgust was visible upon his carved features - as well as betrayal.
Jillian felt herself swallow without meaning to. "We have to work on the script," she returned, but her voice sounded soft. "We only have a few days to write a whole new act. I wasn't trying to exclude you," she insisted. "I want you to be a part of everything, Slappy."
He took a step toward her. "So, you want me to be in the loop, Jillian? How about you start by telling me what that ape meant about going to see Jimmy?"
Oh, boy. Jillian straightened her shoulders. "Harrison can't find another dummy anywhere else," she explained, forcing a disinterested shrug. "He got Jimmy's address from the Little Theater, and he wants to go tomorrow to see if he can get a spare dummy."
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "And just when were you going to tell me that, dearest?"
"I only just found out today," she retorted. "Harrison's looked everywhere else for a second puppet, and he thinks Jimmy might have a spare. Does he?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," he growled. "If I ever see him again, I'm gonna rip his head off."
Jillian held up her hands. "You won't have to see him," she promised, but the blue eyes flashed.
"Don't you dare go to him, Jillian," he hissed, his soft voice beginning to rise. "He threw me away! He knocked me out and threw me away for some dump truck to crush me. Don't you DARE go to him, do you hear me? Don't you DARE go!"
Jillian took a deep breath. "Alright, I won't," she returned, mind racing. "But it'll be hard for me to convince Harrison not to go. He's part of the act, and he needs a dummy. What do you want me to tell him, Slappy? How can I explain it to him?"
Slappy bared his teeth. "Why does there even NEED to be two of you?" he hissed.
Something flared inside her, and she took a step toward him. "Listen, buster," she glared, pointing a finger at him, "Harrison is my best friend, and you're gonna have to get used to that. He's the only one of my friends who dressed up as a clown to help me, and I'm not gonna kick him out just because you don't like him."
He was silent for a long moment, staring at her - and in a flash, his arms lashed out, grabbing her shirt collar. Jillian barely had time to stop the rest of her body from crashing into the table before her face was inches from his.
His wooden eyes were as sharp as knives. "Let me make this clear, little girl. I am not going to tell Harrison. Ever. It's MY secret, Jillian - MY life!" His voice was becoming shriller. "I'm not interested in 'making friends' with every moonstruck buffoon you happen to favor. I'm trying to SURVIVE in a world full of flesh bags that would sooner treat me like a piece of property than a person. Do you understand that?" he demanded. "Are there enough brains in your soft head to comprehend ANY of that?"
She knew he was right, and she had every intention of apologizing for her thoughtlessness - but not with his hands so close to her throat. "Let go of me," she ordered, grabbing his wrists.
His grip only tightened on the fabric. "I really like you, Jillian," he hissed, bringing his face still closer. "A lot more than the other humans I've had to deal with, but I have limits. Do not push me over them."
Her heart was pounding with adrenaline, but she forced her mouth into a straight line, hoping he did not hear the breath she sucked in to calm her tight chest. "If you want to leave," she said slowly, painfully aware of how strained her voice sounded, "the door is right over there. I won't stop you."
His jaw clicked. Finally, he scoffed and leaned away, but his grip remained firm. "Nice try, kid. But just remember, you need me a lot more than I need you. What would you do about Mary-Ellen if I did leave?" he mocked. "Who would help you? Your parents? Your best friend in there? Face it. I'm all you got, Jillian."
"Let go," she repeated.
"Say please," he sneered.
She stared at him for a long moment.
- And suddenly, Harrison's voice called from the den, "Hey, Jillian? Do you smell something burning?"
In that instant, a loud beeping went off.
Jillian froze.
The smoke detector.
Slappy staggered back, his little face a mask of horror as he released her. Jillian did not pause. She bolted into the kitchen - and let out a shriek.
The entire stove top was on fire.
I gotta get the girls. I gotta get Slappy.
"Jillian, move!" Harrison cried behind her, barely audible over the screaming detector and the pounding in her ears. She narrowly missed being mowed down by his barreling bulk as Harrison charged toward the fire extinguisher on the wall.
In seconds, the pin was pulled - the hose aimed - and the leaping, hot flames were blanketed with foam. Billows of smoke filled the air. It took a while - or maybe just seconds - but, finally, it was over, and Harrison staggered back. "Thank you, Grandma," he exhaled weakly. He grimaced, surveying the scene. "Wow."
Jillian stared at the blackened mess. The orange light showed that the oven was still on, still baking the garlic bread - although she could see through the small window that it was starting to burn. Wasting no time, she grabbed an oven mitt and reached across the searing hot stove to twist the knob, doing her best not to burn herself.
She staggered away from the smoking mess and bumped into the kitchen table. "How - ?" was all she managed to choke out.
The alarm was still screaming. Harrison sprang for the kitchen broom and pressed the handle to the button. In an instant the kitchen fell silent, but the ringing still lingered in Jillian's ears.
Then realization struck her.
"I'll kill them!" she shrieked, her hands balling into fists.
"Sick!" Harrison shuddered, shaking his head.
"They actually did it!" Jillian screamed, turning on her heel. "They actually set the house on fire!"
"Jillian, wait up!" Harrison cried, but she was already sprinting toward the stairs.
She thundered up the steps, taking them two at a time, and charged down the hall. The door was opened as if waiting for her, and she bolted through.
The girls were at the foot of Amanda's bed, legs dangling over the side, and both stared at her without a trace of surprise. Mary-Ellen sat in her wicker chair between them.
Jillian opened her mouth to scream at them - raised both hands to grab one of them - and then a voice she had never heard before began to speak - no, no, not speak. Think. There was no other way to describe it.
The voice - smug, female - invaded her mind, causing her to reel and clutch the door frame to keep from collapsing.
Remember when you told me to "do my worst," Jillian? Well, guess what. THAT wasn't it.
Both girls promptly giggled as if it were the best joke ever.
"She said you'd be sorry, " Katie tittered.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.
