Mom was frantic all Saturday morning, making sure the basement and first floor were tidy for the birthday guests and the parents, directing Dad to move the furniture in the rec room around, and running to the store after she dropped the last three eggs she had saved for the birthday cake. Whenever she got that frazzled, everyone knew to keep their mouth shut and try to look busy. As such, when Harrison came by that afternoon, he did not even bat an eye when she set him to work alongside Jillian.

"You kids start hanging up streamers and fill the piñata," Mom ordered as she straightened the den. Jillian noticed that several strands of her dark hair had come loose from her bun, but she decided against pointing it out as her mother continued, "Dad set up the food table already, so I need you to take the party trays down too. Leave enough room for the pizza when it comes."

"She sounds tense," Harrison whispered as Jillian led him to the hall closet where Dad had stashed the party supplies Mrs. Simkin had dropped off.

"Mom's been racing around all day," Jillian replied quietly. "Mrs. Simkin's asked her to decorate the cake, hang decorations, choose songs for the games, and everything. Mom says she's surprised Mrs. Simkin didn't ask her to pick out Eddie's birthday present for her."

"Kid's gonna need a shrink when he grows up," Harrison snickered softly.

"That's what Dad said," Jillian replied - and then her face fell. "She's still mad that the kitchen hasn't been fixed yet," she sighed. "She's hung up bed sheets over the kitchen doors so that the other parents won't see the stove."

Harrison touched her arm. "Hey, just focus on the show," he told her. "If we do enough parties, we'll make so much money that we can just buy her a whole new kitchen. Then she won't be mad at you anymore."

"I hope so," she exhaled again, clenching her teeth. Yet another reason why today had to be perfect. "At least the girls have been behaving - mostly," she added. The twins had spent the morning at Stevie's house for play rehearsal, and now she could hear them in the kitchen sweeping, arguing over whose turn it was to hold the dustpan, insisting the sweeper missed a spot, and threatening to hit the other with the broom if she did not shut her mouth - and it took Jillian all her strength to keep the distaste off her face. Just the sound of them made her hands ball into tight fists. Earlier, she had passed by the twins' room and actually heard a trio of voices humming a happy tune from within - and it had taken her a moment to realize that the song was from her destroyed Hanson cassette.

Harrison started to grab the bags of decorations when Jillian stopped. "Hang on, I gotta get Slappy from my room."

Harrison quirked an eyebrow. "Why is he upstairs and not in the basement with Maxie?"

Jillian gave a good-natured laugh. "I was practicing with him. Duh."

"If you start having tea parties with him, I'm outta here," he cracked as she headed upstairs.


Slappy looked up from his library book as she came in, and he cocked his head to the side. "Something troubling you, doll face?"

She gave him a wry smile as she crossed the room. "Well, three psychos live down the hall, and Mom's going crazy - but other than that I'm fine," she said dryly.

"Good, for a second I was worried," he returned, laying his book down. "Not too late for to think up a Plan B."

She shook her head. "No, Mom and Dad need to know. This is the only way they'll believe me - but I can't even think about what that doll did to my tapes without wanting to scream."

She took a deep breath and held it. So much of this facade depended on her keeping it together - but Mary-Ellen and the twins were not making it easy for her. After breakfast, Jillian had been put to work icing freshly baked cupcakes. She had left them on the table, stopping a moment to grab some more sprinkles from Mom's cooking supplies - and sat right on a cupcake that had been placed on her chair, covering her clean jeans in a mess of frosting and crumbs. It had been difficult to keep from telling Mom the truth when she came by later and demanded to know why one cupcake was missing, but Jillian had to take the fall and say she dropped it, making her mother even more upset with her.

"At least it'll be over soon," she added darkly.

"We'll knock 'em dead, sweetheart," Slappy said pleasantly, taking her hand to give it a light pat before he turned it over, glancing down at her palm. "Hmm, you have a good lifeline," he joked. "I see many pranks and mischief in your future. Also, you will have a handsome husband and children. Four, I think. For starters."

"Gag," she said, rolling her eyes as she pulled her hand away. She glanced at the cup on the windowsill that held a pink flower in water. She would get Katie to deliver it after the show with the note asking for the doll to meet Slappy. It would be the very last gift they would ever give that doll - she hoped. She turned back to the dummy. "Are we forgetting anything?"

A smirk appeared on his cracked face. "A kiss for good luck?"

"Don't be gross," she sniffed coolly, trying to keep her face straight - even as she felt her skin grow hot.

His blue eyes glittered. "What's so gross about it?" he demanded teasingly. He tapped his chipped mouth. "I'll have you know there are My Size Barbies out there that dream of these lips."

"And I'm not one of them," she retorted.

He leaned forward a little, his red smile only widening. "What's your problem, Jillian? You afraid you're gonna hate it? Or love it?"

Her frown deepened. "We can do the show with just Maxie, you know," she warned. He's just joking. He's just joking.

True to form, Slappy giggled.


Almost an hour later, the basement floor was covered with a rainbow of balloons. Blue and green streamers were strung across the ceiling (the same color as the dinosaur birthday cake), and the poster for "Pin the Tail on the Stegosaurus" had been hung in place of Dad's dart board (which had been safely stashed out of reach). Jillian gave a sweeping glance across the rec room, trying to spot anything that the twins could remotely tamper with. She was not going to forget to double-check anything with those three terrors in the same building.

"At least we have the home advantage this time," Jillian said darkly as she hid the T-Rex piñata high on the top shelf of the workshop closet.

"That reminds me. Where did you put our bag of tricks?" Harrison asked, looking up from practicing with Maxie's controls. He had pulled down the beaten-up suitcase with his new dummy from the closet and now sat on the workbench with the puppet on his knee. "I was telling my cousin about the squirting pie pan, and he was interested in it."

"He can have it," she said darkly. "I stuffed that junk in my closet - with all of my circus posters." She leaned against the tool table, surveying the workshop. The door would be closed during the party, so at least that was one less room to worry about - in theory. "The last thing we need today is the twerps putting worms in the piñata," she added nastily.

"Not a bad idea though," Harrison remarked. "When's their birthday again?"

"February Twenty-first."

"Plenty of time to plan," he chuckled.

Despite her tense mood, an odd feeling swept over her. "If I'm still getting good ideas," she murmured, glancing at the little blue-eyed dummy on the workbench, who stared blankly back at her. ...Would Slappy still be living with her by then?

On an impulse, she stepped over to sit between her two friends, mulling that over in her mind. Slappy had not actually said about what he would do once their deal was over. Sure, he needed her to be alive, but would he still be with her when she was thirty? Fifty? Eighty? Would he go with her when she went off to college? Or got married? Or would she just get a postcard from him every now and then until she finally died, and he went back to sleep?

Harrison, meanwhile, had already returned his attention to Maxie. "My mama dun told me, 'Bring home something for dinner,'" he made the dummy sing cheerfully, forcing Jillian to abandon her glum thoughts for the moment. Harrison had experimented all week with different voices and had finally settled on one like Beaky Buzzard.

"Saw your lips move," Jillian pointed out.

Harrison winced. "How do you make the 'B' and 'M' sounds, Jillian?"

"Talent," she replied as she adjusted Slappy's bowtie. She gave the dummy a wink, which he discreetly returned. "I liked your Yoda voice better," Jillian added over her shoulder teasingly.

"That wasn't Yoda. That was Grover," Maxie returned cheekily.

Jillian shook her head. "Your lips moved on the 'V'."

"I'm try-ing!" Harrison pretended to whine as he worked Maxie's controls to blink his brown eyes. "Well, maybe they'll be so busy looking at the dummies to notice me."

"I don't think anyone will be able to stop looking at those teeth," Jillian laughed, gesturing towards the little puppet's mouth.

"I was made from beaverwood," Harrison made Maxie reply good-naturedly before the boy grimaced. "Seriously, how do you do the 'B' sounds, Jillian?"

Before Jillian could reply, she heard the basement door creak open, and Mom's voice called downstairs, "Jillian, are you down there? What are you doing?" She sounded agitated.

"Rehearsing!" she called back.

"Well, Mrs. Simkin and Eddie just arrived," Mom returned, "and this food isn't gonna carry itself down."

"Duty calls," she told Harrison. The boy promptly set Maxie down beside Slappy and headed for the stairs while Jillian pretended to straighten her little friend's checked jacket. "Be back in a flash," she whispered.

"I'll be counting the minutes, doll," he winked.


Katie was waiting for them at the top of the steps. "Break a leg, guys!" she beamed. "Mary-Ellen can't wait to see the show."

Jillian's mouth twitched, but she forced a grin at the last moment. "Thanks."

Harrison gave Katie a strained smile, and Jillian could see his easygoing demeanor start to dissolve. "I don't think your mom is gonna let you bring toys to a birthday party, kiddo."

"Mary-Ellen is not a toy," Katie insisted, "and she really wants to see Slappy."

Harrison snickered. "What? She gots a crush on him?"

"Don't even joke," Jillian muttered, stepping toward the kitchen.

Harrison reached around her and grabbed the bed-sheet curtain, holding it for both girls to duck through. Amanda was at the table daintily nibbling on barbecue chips; Jillian could tell from the doorway that she had been sampling Mom's floral perfumes. Mary-Ellen was in the chair beside her, staring blankly ahead. Jillian noticed they were both decked in party frocks, frilly pink for Amanda, lacey white for the doll. Some effort had obviously been made to tame Mary-Ellen's mop-yarn hair, and a white bow sat atop her frizzy head, but Jillian thought she still looked ridiculous.

Amanda turned her head as Jillian entered. "What's up, doc?" she asked innocently.

Jillian clenched her teeth - but she was saved as the other bed sheet rose then, and Mom poked her head in from the dining room. She pointed to the assortment of fruit and chips. "Take these down quick, and come back for the birthday presents," she told Jillian and Harrison. "The guests will be arriving soon, and I'll need you kids to help supervise. Katie, Amanda, you can help carry too."

"What about the birthday cake?" Jillian asked, gesturing to the blue-and-green creation in the middle of the kitchen table. Mom had used food dye to draw a smiling brontosaurus on the icing.

"Leave it up here for now," her mother returned. "I don't want it to get damaged by any little fingers wanting to sneak a taste." After the hour and a half Mom had spent on it, Jillian was not surprised.

As Mom went back into the hall to speak with Mrs. Simkin, Harrison cracked his knuckles. "Well, let's boogie," he said and started grabbing a bowl of grapes.

Jillian followed suit, doing her best not to look at her sisters or the doll as the twins bustled about her, grabbing the plastic forks and paper cups. Harrison managed to balance quite a few plates on his thick arms, and he used his shoulder to hold open the bed sheet for Jillian, who was already carrying three large bowls.

- And that was when she felt Amanda's foot connect with her own, causing her to trip.

She let out a yelp, and the bowls of cheese curls and crackerjacks went flying, and she landed facedown on the hard floor. "Oww!"

"What happened?" she heard Mom's distant cry, and in a moment her mother charged past Harrison back into the kitchen. Jillian sucked in air through her teeth, biting down on her groan of pain as Mom leaped over the mess, bending to help her up.

"It was an accident!" Amanda shrieked fearfully, fleeing to hide behind Mary-Ellen's chair.

Mom's gray eyes instantly narrowed. "Amanda, put that doll upstairs," she ordered. "It's rude to bring toys to a birthday party."

Amanda's little jaw dropped. "But Mary-Ellen wants to see Slappy's show!" she cried frantically.

"She's been looking forward it!" Katie wailed on the other side of the table.

"I-It's okay," Jillian said tightly, rubbing her reddened forearms even as she had the sudden urge to smack that doll's head against the table. "She's not... hurting anyone. Let her 'watch' the show, Mom."

"Out of the question," Mom returned sharply. "This is Eddie's day, and the focus should be on him and the party, not playing with dolls. Take Mary-Ellen upstairs," she ordered, turning back to Amanda.

Amanda looked helplessly at the doll. "B-But - "

"Now, Amanda Grace."

A miserable look crossed her little face, and she slowly picked up the doll and carried her over her shoulder, shuffling toward the door.

"Now," Mom repeated, "or you'll have to spend the entire party in your room, and you won't get cake."

Amanda immediately broke into a run, pushing past Harrison and out of sight.

Jillian dusted the knees of her blue jeans. Now, what?

However, she did not have long to dwell on it because Mom turned to her and Katie then. "Now, listen, I want no trouble today, girls," she warned. "No fighting. No tricks. Nothing. Today is all about Eddie, and you're not going to ruin it for him with your bickering. If any one of you acts up, all three of you are going to be in trouble. Understood?"

Both girls nodded obediently, but Jillian clenched her teeth as her mother left again, silencing Mrs. Simkin's distant questions with assurances that everything was alright.

Sure, everything's just FINE, Jillian thought bitterly.

"Need help cleaning up?" Harrison asked, still holding his cargo.

Jillian shook her head. "Nah, I got it. You take your stuff down." As the bed sheet dropped again, she stepped over the cheese curls and grabbed the kitchen broom - and suddenly felt a little hand touch her own.

"Are you okay, Jillian?" Katie asked.

"I'm fine," she said through her teeth, but she caught herself before she could give into the impulse to smack her sister's hand away. She flashed a quick smile. "Nothing injured but my pride."

Katie's little eyes grew wide. "What are we gonna do?" she squeaked. "Mary-Ellen's not gonna be happy!"

Good, Jillian thought, rubbing her still smarting arms, but she forced herself to bite her cheek. "Don't worry," she said slowly, getting an idea. "When Mom goes next door to the grown-up's party, you can sneak her down. We'll do the show then."

Katie's eyes lit up. "Great idea! I'll go tell her!"

Enjoy it while you can, Mary-Ellen, Jillian thought as her little sister disappeared, and she started to sweep.

She had dumped the last of the mess into the trash by the time Harrison came back upstairs. "Your sisters are something else," he said, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," she muttered. "C'mon, we still got stuff to take down - " but she did not get to finish because it was then the doorbell rang. Three of the birthday guests had arrived, and Mom soon called the two of them into the living room to help keep them corralled.


Including Eddie and the twins, there was a grand total of fifteen kids, and for almost half an hour the first floor of the Zinman house was a grand flood of six-year-olds wrestling, running, hopping, skipping, climbing, giggling, and shrieking before Mom finally ushered everyone down into the basement, charging Jillian and Harrison with carrying the rest of the food and the birthday presents.

"Man, the parents couldn't wait to dump them here," Harrison snickered, balancing three bowls of chip dip in his thick arms.

"Can you blame them?" she cracked. Even from the kitchen she could hear the muffled noise of the party guests, almost as loud as Dad's table saw. "I'm never having kids," Jillian declared as she grabbed a bowl of assorted candies (and pocketed a few Hershey Kisses for herself) and stacked it atop the pile of presents she was carefully gathering. "I might not get married just so that I don't accidentally have one."

Harrison smirked. "Nah, you know you're gonna end up with twelve," he teased, grabbing a big bottle of Coke. "All of them twins like your sisters. I hear that runs in families."

"Bite your tongue!" she retorted. She shifted the presents to one arm and poked his shoulder. "You know, if I had twelve kids, I'd make you babysit, Uncle Harrison."

Harrison clutched the soda to his chest like a life preserver. "The horror!" he cried. "But I wouldn't be able to. I'll be too busy working for the Muppets when I grow up."

"You can always introduce them to Kermit," Jillian returned. "Or you could take them to Sesame Street. I can totally see you in the Big Bird costume."

"No way. It's the Snuffleupagus or nothing!" he declared with a laugh - and then his dark eyes suddenly changed. "What about you? What are you gonna do now that you don't want to be a clown anymore?"

She had not given it much thought. For the past five years, she had dreamed of being a clown. When she was younger, she would be glued to the television whenever The Big Comfy Couch came on and would not move an inch until the end credits. Her parents would send her to summer camps that offered a "circus week" theme, and she had accumulated quite a collection of clown toys before she eventually outgrew dolls. Her whole family would even tease her about how she would marry a circus performer when she grew up and raise a bunch of little clowns. But now... she could not feel even a spark of enthusiasm.

"I still want to make money doing parties," she said at last, giving a dismissive shrug. "Maybe I can be a magician next."

Harrison gave her an incredulous look. "But you're awesome at ventriloquism," he returned. "You should stick with it."

Except it's not me doing the talking, she thought glumly. All she did was keep her hand inside Slappy's back while the dummy threw insult after insult at Maxie (and Harrison), and that got boring after a while. At least when she was a clown, she was the one jumping around and acting silly.

Still, she had to admit that it had been fun coming up with a script - what little she had contributed - and there was some thrill in being the only one to know that the dummy was alive. Even though his insults could be groan-inducing, Slappy did manage to pull off a few zingers that made her giggle. Maybe if they could change the routine down the line so that the ventriloquists had something to say, it might be pretty enjoyable.

"I guess I sorta like working with Slappy," she said slowly, "even if I'll always be the straight man to his banana."

Harrison gave her a grin. "You're really good with him. I can almost believe he's alive." He chuckled. "You know, it's kinda like this weird story Jimmy O'James was writing in his diary. I'll have to show it to you sometime. It's a hoot."

She looked at him sharply. "You took it from his house?"

He held up his hands - as best as he could with his burden. "By mistake! When the neighbor showed up in the house, I panicked and stuffed it in my pocket. I got all the way home before I realized I still had it." He shrugged. "But it's really funny. He was writing about how Slappy was brought to life by some toy maker, and what it was like to live with a talking dummy - and all the rude stuff Slappy said to him. I'll bring it over tomorrow if you want."

She hesitated - and gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

Harrison tilted his head to the side, and Jillian could see a spark appear in his dark eyes. "You know, since my hand won't fit inside him, why don't I just give him to you?"

She stared. "Really?"

"Sure. Why not? You already play with him a lot," he teased. "And you said you were too old for dolls."

She found herself beaming. "Wow, thanks!" she cried, choosing to ignore the crack as a flood of relief swept through her. That took a load off her mind!

As Harrison held the bed-sheet curtain open for her, Jillian almost skipped to the basement. She considered how Slappy would respond if she told him he was her property now, and she chuckled at the thought.

At least until she opened the basement door.

And heard the screaming.


"Let go! Let go!" a little boy was howling in pain. "Make him stop! He won't let go!"

In an instant Jillian started down, dumping the birthday presents and chocolate on the steps, and soon got a view of the group of kids in Dad's workshop gathered around the workbench. Mom was in the midst of them, pulling on the arm of the screaming, red-faced child. Jillian pushed her way through the spectators to see Slappy on his side, staring glassily in front of him, his face frozen in his eternal smile - and his hard fingers clenching the child's whiten hand.

"He's gonna break my hand!" the boy shrieked.

Jillian made a grab for the wooden wrist. "Stop it!" she screeched. "Let go!" She gave a great tug, and, finally, the stiff fingers released the soft paw, and the little boy tumbled backwards into Mom.

Big, fat tears rolled down his red face. "Oww! He br-broke m-my hand!" he wailed. Kids were murmuring around them, and one little girl began to cry.

"Let me see," Mom soothed in a strained voice, looking the swollen fingers over. "No, no. It's not broken. You're okay, sweetie. You're okay. We'll put ice on it and get your mommy, okay?" Her eyes then shot to Jillian. "Put that thing away," she said, jerking her head toward the dummy.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Z.!" Jillian heard Harrison gasp as he came up behind her. "Slappy's still broken. The same thing happened to Jillian last week."

Mom frowned, and Jillian could see she was trying to keep her temper. "We'll talk about this later," she said, "but you two shouldn't have left the workshop door open." She grabbed the child by the uninjured hand and ushered him upstairs to put ice on his swollen fingers.

Harrison quickly started to shoo the other kids back into the rec room as Jillian took Slappy to the nearest corner and pretended to check his controls.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed. "That was a rotten thing to do!"

He did not look at her right away, but when he finally tilted his wooden head, she saw cold fury in his stare. "What kept you?" he demanded in a soft rasp. "I had to fend off those germ-ridden little freaks by myself."

All at once her burning anger was replaced with a deep chill. Oh, boy... "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "We were busy getting the little kids settled, and then Mom told us to grab the food and stuff, and Harrison and I were talking, and then - "

His wooden lips immediately curled into a sneer, showing his painted teeth. "Oh, yes, Harrison," he drawled. "Dear, sweet Harrison. I'm sorry. I forgot how fascinating he is. How ever did you tear yourself from his side?"

"It wasn't just Harrison," she protested, still in a whisper. "Mom needed me to help her. I couldn't say no - "

He just looked away, his little body trembling in her arms.

Jillian swallowed dryly and tried to think of a diplomatic response. "I'm sorry, Slappy," she said in his ear. "I goofed up. Please, forgive me."

His jaw clicked. "I'll have to think about it."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Look, I'll make it up to you. Somehow."

He raised his head again, but his eyes were still hard. "I got drool on my clothes, Jillian. What did you have in mind?"

Jillian's mind began to race for a solution. "Maybe I could take you somewhere," she suggested lamely. "Put you in my backpack, and ride my bike to the park? There's a patch of woods there. No one would see you if you wanted to stretch your legs. We could have a picnic or something. Bring the checkerboard or Uno cards. We'll have fun."

"I don't like picnics," he sniffed. Then an ugly smirk appeared. "But I have a better idea," he said sweetly - a little too sweetly - as his hand came up and stroked her hanging black tresses.

Suddenly, a balloon popped, and Jillian whirled around to see through the workshop door a blond boy laughing as a little girl with red braids started to cry. She saw Harrison bolt forward to calm her down, but then a shoving match broke out when the giggling prankster got hit by the girl's brother.

"Jillian, help!"

Leaving Slappy on the bench, she dove into the fray - even as her heart thudded hard in her chest.


Under her parents' supervision, the kids played freeze dance, limbo, and musical chairs. Prizes were given out - and fought over. They danced the Electric Slide, the Bunny Hop, and the Chicken Dance. When they played "Pin the Tail on the Stegosaurus", one girl cried because her tail came nowhere close to the dinosaur - or even touched the poster. Then Katie unearthed Jillian's old soccer ball and started a game of catch with half of the kids.

Finally, Jillian tapped her mother's shoulder.

"If you and Dad wanna pop over to the party next door, Harrison and I can watch them," she offered. "We're going to do our show to keep them quiet."

Mom turned to her. "Do you feel you two can handle all this?"

"No big," Jillian replied even as the soccer ball zipped past her head and almost upset several food trays.

As Mom organized the kids into rows on the rec-room floor, Jillian strode over to Katie and grabbed her elbow. "Go get Mary-Ellen," she whispered, and she slipped one of the chocolate Kisses from her pocket into her sister's palm.

Katie's eyes lit up, and she jerked a nod before bolting away.

"It's my birthday!" Jillian heard Eddie declare, pushing his way to the front. "So, I get the best seat." He plopped on the floor in front of the tall stools.

Once the kids were settled, Mom and Dad slipped upstairs, and Jillian quickly jogged into the workshop where Harrison had already taken Maxie from the top shelf. The large boy grabbed Slappy by the collar of his sport jacket, passing him over. She hoisted the dummy onto her hip and gently placed her hand against his back as if she were testing his controls. "You okay?" she asked softly.

He tilted his head up, and his smile stretched. "I'm fine, Jillian. Are you?"

"Mary-Ellen is gonna be watching," she reminded him quietly. "We make this work and get her on camera, she'll be gone forever."

Slappy chuckled. "Oh, don't worry about Mary-Ellen, my dear," he said sweetly. "If this doesn't work, I already have a Plan B."

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but he drooped his head to the side, staring lifelessly in front of him.


The kids cheered as they strode to the two tall stools in front of the video cabinet. As Jillian draped Slappy's flimsy legs over her lap, she saw Katie and Amanda quietly slip in the back. Jillian took a deep breath and gently slipped her hand through the folds of Slappy's jacket, forming a fist to keep from touching his insides, and the act began.

Harrison turned Maxie's head to address Slappy. "Duh, hi, there, Slappy. My name is Maxie. I hear you're pretty funny."

"Really? I hear you're pretty stupid," Slappy replied, causing a burst of laughter from the audience. As usual, he used his Jillian impression.

Maxie blinked his eyes a few times. "I don't get it," he said as soon as the kids quieted down.

"Looks like you don't got much," Slappy returned. "I'd give you a nasty look, but you already got one!"

A few giggles erupted, though Jillian glanced down and saw Eddie Simkin make a face. Still, she slowly let out the breath she had been holding, forcing herself to relax.

"So, what do you want?" Slappy drawled.

"Duh, I hear you're the funniest dummy on earth," Maxie declared. "I wanna be funny too."

"Funny like your face?" Laughter from the kids. "I don't wanna say you're ugly, Maxie - but you're ugly. You're so ugly, you have to trick-or-treat by phone!" More giggles - but Eddie Simkin grimaced again. "Let's hear what you got, dummy."

Maxie wiggled and cleared his throat. "Dum, okay, okay. Duh…" Harrison raised the dummy's little hand so that he could scratch his brown head. "Duh, why did the skeleton go to the movie theaters alone?"

Slappy tilted his cracked head. "Because Harrison's mother spent the night in the pound?"

Jillian froze.

Harrison's dark brow shot high in the air, but he quickly got control of himself. "Duuuuh, nope! Because he had no BODY to go with him!"

Although Maxie was supposed to say stupid jokes, a few of the six-year-olds still liked the pun and began to chuckle, but Slappy leaned forward, squinting his blue eyes. "I saw your lips move, Harrison," he remarked.

Harrison visibly swallowed. "Uh, thanks, Slappy," he chuckled uncertainly, glancing again at Jillian. He cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Maxie, and he quickly continued in his goofy voice, "So, Slappy, did you hear about the hungry clock?"

"Your lips moved again, Harrison," the living dummy replied, shaking his grinning head in exasperation. He turned his head to the audience. "You guys see him, right?"

"Ye-e-es," three boys in the second row chorused.

Jillian quickly brought her free hand up and shook his wooden shoulder. "Play nice, Slappy," she said as lightly as she could, trying to pass it off as a joke, but her voice sounded tight even to her own ears. She turned to Harrison and the bucktoothed puppet. "What other jokes do you know, Maxie?"

Jillian saw Harrison's dark eyes flick from her to the audience, but he seemed determined to roll with it. "So, duh, did you hear about the hungry clock?" he tried again, but Jillian noticed that Maxie's jaw did not move quite in time with the words. Harrison did not wait for a response and declared, "It went back four seconds!"

While it was a dumb joke, it was enough to make some of the children giggle, but the dummy shook his head again. "Can't you do a 'B' sound to save your life, kid? Maybe we should just put you out of your misery now. This act is certainly keeling over. Who wrote the script again? Oh, yeah. You did!"

Jillian gripped his skinny arm. "Slappy, be nice," she warned, keeping her smile in place. "I'd like to see you be a ventriloquist sometime."

He snorted. "Hey, can I help it if Mr. 'I Wanna Voice Miss Piggy' here can't even say my name? Or that he named his own dummy M-M-M-Maxie?" he hummed nastily. "Here, Harrison, watch Jillian's cute little mouth, and see if it moves: Slap-py. Slap-py. Slap-py. Rubber baby buggy bumpers! Rubber baby buggy bumpers!"

Jillian shook his shoulder again - harder. "Stick to the script, dummy," she admonished like a mother, trying to make it seem like part of the show. "You can't hog the spotlight."

"No, because Harrison is taking up most of it," he mocked. "Hey, Harrison, when you wear red, do you get mistaken for the Kool-Aid mascot? You're so big, you could sit on a dollar bill and squeeze a booger out of Washington's nose!"

"Slappy..." she warned, but the dummy snickered.

Harrison laughed too, but it sounded forced. He adjusted his hold on Maxie. "Hey, Slap - uh, dude, why can't you tell jokes while standing on ice?"

"I know why you can't, dude, but I have a better question," he said and turned to the children. "Hey, kids, did you know Harrison here actually ate a whole bowl of mud?"

"Eeww!" came a chorus of groans, mostly from the little girls, but some of the boys thought it was hilarious.

Jillian felt her stomach drop.

"That was a long time ago," Harrison said, shooting Jillian a dirty look.

"Back when you were seven, right? Was that your age or your I.Q. level?" Slappy snickered. He turned back to the children. "You guys are all six, right? Would you be that stupid?"

"No-o-o!" the kids replied.

This had gone far enough. "Slappy, stop it," Jillian ordered, breaking character.

Slappy turned - and gave her a pleasant smile. "You should wear green more often, Jillian. It really brings out your eyes." His raspy voice took on a syrupy tone as he nudged her shoulder with his brown head. "You know, dearest, if you put me in front of a mirror, you'd see the two best-looking things on the planet."

Jillian clenched her teeth and coolly pushed him away. "Slappy, stick to the script. Maxie wants his chance to talk."

"What if I don't want to talk to Maxie?" he demanded. "What if I want to talk to you?"

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she said briskly.

"Well, you can't talk if I'm talking, right?" he mocked. "So, what if I just kept on talking? How would you like it? Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer… Everybody!" he cried.

Some children sang along, but most of them watched in silence. Jillian barely paid attention to them - and refused to look at Harrison. As the dummy continued to belt out the lyrics, one thought crossed her mind.

I can start talking right now and blow his secret.

However, even as she considered it, her gut told her it would not end well.

Her free hand clenched into a fist - and she got an idea. As Slappy hit ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall, Jillian slowly, carefully, began to pull her other hand back. He could not pretend to be a lifeless dummy if he had no ventriloquist. Her wrist tapped the lip of the hole - and that was as far she got.

Her hand was stuck.

Slappy promptly stopped singing and turned his head. "What's the matter, Jillian?" he taunted. "You look like you got your hand caught in the cookie jar."

She jiggled her hand, twisting it this way and that, but the folds were beginning to tightened, cutting off circulation to her wrist.

Slappy let out an ugly snicker. "Not so fun to be trapped, is it?" he hissed under his nonexistent breath. He turned back to the kids. "Hey, who wants to see me guess Harrison's weight?"

Harrison was not saying anything now. He was not even holding Maxie upright anymore. His huge mouth was a thin line, and Jillian could see he was trying to keep it together as Slappy sent another volley of insults at him. For once he did not laugh.

Slappy was not going to win this. Getting an idea, Jillian uncurled her trapped fingers and made a quick grab for his strings - maybe if she kept his mouth open, that would force them into a stalemate - and tugged it firmly.

...Nothing happened.

She pulled again - but his jaw did not move so much as a crack.

Slappy leaned against her. "Nice try, dreamboat."

"C'mon, this isn't funny," she said through her teeth.

His leer widened. "All humor is based on suffering, sweetheart." His blue eyes immediately grew sharper. "Are you suffering yet?"

The hole tightened further around her wrist, and the dull pain was becoming sharper. She met his intense gaze, refusing to cry out. "What do you want, Slappy?"

A glimmer appeared in his eyes. "How about a kiss?" he said loudly.

Laughter erupted among the six-year-olds, and a few boys began to gag, but Jillian barely heard them. A chill ran through her.

"I don't want to kiss you," she returned. "I only kiss good dummies. Like Maxie." He's just doing this to get back at me. He's just doing this to get back at me.

His eyes narrowed. "Maxie isn't the one on your lap," he growled. "Maxie isn't the one who's been helping you for two weeks. Kiss me."

"No, way. I don't want to get termites, Slappy."

Two or three kids chuckled at that, but the rest did not find it very funny. Jillian could see Katie and Amanda at the back, both staring hard at them. Where was Mary-Ellen?

She heard Slappy's jaw click. "Give me a kiss, and I'll do the show."

Jillian lowered her gaze to meet his. "Fine, you want a kiss? I'll give you a kiss."

His blue eyes glittered with sick triumphant. His red lips parted a little as she leaned forward -

- and popped a Hershey kiss from her jeans pocket into his mouth.

Laughter erupted from the six-year-olds. Eddie Simkin made a face. "This is lame!" he declared, but Jillian barely heard him.

She rose to her feet. "You've been a beautiful audience," she told the kids, giving a bow, and promptly headed upstairs, carrying the trembling dummy with her.


"What is the matter with you?!" she demanded as soon as the basement door closed behind her. The first floor was deserted, and she hauled the dummy into the living room.

"It was a joke," he said cheerfully. "Don't take it so seriously. You'll get wrinkles."

She spun him around to face her. "Don't tell me to not take it seriously, Slappy," she said through her teeth. "That's what my parents tell me all the time, and I don't need it from you!" Her throat was tightening, making it difficult to get the words out. "Why would you do that?! You're supposed to be my friend, and you humiliated me!"

"You keep saying we're friends," he drawled, "and I should do stuff for you based on just that, but I've been thinking, doll face. I do an awful lot for you, and I'm only getting one single, solitary favor for my efforts. What else am I getting out of this partnership?"

She all but threw him on the couch, scoffing with disgust. "I do things for you, don't I?" she demanded. "I bring you food. I let you stay in my room."

"Trifles," he sniffed, folding his arms. "I use magic for you - despite knowing its cost, my dear. I came up with ideas when you could only think of tying shoelaces together. I told you that the Garbage Pail Kid knock-off was alive. And how do you repay me, Jillian? You forget me the moment your darling gorilla pokes his head in."

"You know that was an accident!" she retorted, her fists beginning to tremble. "What about our plan? What about getting rid of Mary-Ellen? You ruined everything!"

"As if your dumb plan was ever going to work," he sneered, shaking his head. "You think you're such a great actress that Mary-Ellen didn't already see right through you? She would've smelled the trap a mile away and set you up for a fall, girl. Frankly, I did you a favor."

"By humiliating me in front of everyone?!" she shrieked.

He gave her a smug smile. "C'mon, you wanted an act that would get the kids talking to their parents, right? You can bet they'll talk about it now!" he tittered cheerfully. "Let's see Harrison do that for you."

She wanted to slap that grin off his ugly face. "I don't know what your problem is, but you can't hate Harrison forever."

His smile vanished. "Try me."

"What do you have against him?" she demanded, throwing up her hands. "He's been nice to you, took you home instead of leaving you in that trash can, left you here so that Dad could fix you. You owe him, Slappy. Big."

His eyes narrowed to baleful slits. "Are you really that stupid?" he growled. "You really wanna know why I can't stand that hairy meat sack? Because, despite everything I do, you can always walk out the door with that drooling buffoon, and I can't follow." His hand jerked toward the curtained window. "There's a whole world outside, Jillian, and he's the one you can enjoy it with. So, what am I getting for my troubles?" he demanded, his hoarse voice becoming shriller. "What do I get?"

She stopped, staring. Was he serious? Was he really saying what she thought he was saying?

"Well, Jillian?" the dummy snapped.

She looked him straight in the eye even as her whole body began to tremble. "I'm not your girlfriend, Slappy."

She heard his jaw click, and he drew himself up. "I never said I wanted a girlfriend, idiot," he growled, his raspy voice becoming dangerously soft.

Her stomach churned as if dancing the Macarena, but she willed herself - forced herself - to keep control. "You're a dummy, Slappy," she continued quietly. "I'm a human. It's never gonna happen. Not even if I did feel that way - which I don't."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Well," he said at last, "that's unfortunate." He took a step forward, his limbs tightening as if he were about to spring off the couch -

- and it was then that she heard the basement door slam open. Slappy immediately crumpled, almost tumbling off the edge, and in seconds Harrison stormed into the living room.

"What was that about?" he demanded.

Jillian stepped away from the couch. "Not now, Harrison," she said, trying to keep her voice calm despite the tempest raging through her.

"Yes, now!" he retorted, shooting his muscular arm in front of her to block her escape. "What were you thinking, Jillian? Do you know how sick that all sounded?"

"Oh, believe me, it's very sick," she returned, shooting a dirty glance over her shoulder at the grinning puppet. "I guess somebody just got carried away."

Harrison threw up his thick hands. "Jillian, what is up with you lately?" he demanded. "This whole week you've been acting weird. You stole from your dad; beat up a doll; you asked me for money twice and still won't tell me what it's for, and now you messed up our act with those gross jokes? And that crack about my mom?! We're supposed to be a team, Jillian! I dressed up as a dumb clown for you - and I gave you Slappy, didn't I?"

Jillian let out a frustrated breath. She could tell him - not that he would believe her, but she could tell him. After what Slappy pulled, why should she keep his secret? ...But even in the midst of her suffocating anger, she knew it would be a bad idea. "I can't tell you, Harrison. You just have to trust me."

"What's so big that you can't tell me?" He looked hurt.

She lowered her gaze. "I just can't," she said softly. "Just trust me. Please, Harrison."

She saw his big fists tighten. "Some friend you are." He turned and strode into the hall.

She started after him. "Harrison, wait - " but that was all she got out before she saw movement in the tail of her eye - the bed sheet over the kitchen moved, and a dark head peeked out. Amanda.

Even as Harrison yanked the basement door open, Jillian slowed at the sight of her little sister's grim face. "What do you want?" she snapped.

Amanda said nothing but stepped out into the hall and headed toward her.

In her hands was the squirting pie pan.

Filled to the top with an all too familiar white foam.

Jillian stiffened. "Don't even think about - " she began, but she saw the little hand come up, holding the pump, and before Jillian could spring away, her sister gave a squeeze - and the foam exploded from the pan.

Covering Jillian in soap.

Soap.

Soap. Soap. Soap.

Something snapped inside her.


Jillian started forward. "COME BACK HERE!" she screeched.

Amanda spun on her heel with a shriek and plunged beneath the makeshift curtain. Jillian's long legs got her there in seconds, and she ducked beneath the bed sheet -

- and saw both twins beside the kitchen table. Katie was holding Mary-Ellen.

Now, Amanda, the doll said.

Amanda turned toward the table - and the homemade birthday cake.

Jillian's heart caught in her throat. "Don't you even - "

That was all she got out before Amanda jumped up - and threw her little body right on top of the smiling green brontosaurus, covering her face and pretty party frock in blue icing and chocolate crumbs.

Katie immediately let out a shriek. "Jillian, why did you push Amanda into the birthday cake?!"

Jillian took a step back. "What! I - "

"I'm telling!" Amanda wailed, looking down at her messy dress. "Mommy's gonna be mad at you!"

"It took her forever to make it!" Katie screeched. "You're in big trouble!"

- And the two promptly broke into giggles. Infernal, infuriating giggles.

Jillian stared at her sisters. All at once a rush of images flooded her mind - the frantic search for them at the circus last summer, Petey inside Slappy's lifeless jaws, the little boy and girl screaming in pain, the kitchen fire - and their giggling, always giggling, faces, unrepentant and unremorseful. They did not care - they did NOT care. People could get hurt; lives could be ruined, and they would still think it was just a big joke. They would never change.

Never change.

"Well," she said softly, finally finding her voice, "if I'm gonna get in trouble anyway..."

In a flash she flew across the room.

Identical green eyes widened in terror, and the girls turned, trying to make a break for it, but Jillian was on them in moments. Katie served to the side, shielding the huge doll, and managed to duck under the second bed sheet into the dining room, but Amanda was not so fast. Jillian's hand latched onto her chocolate-covered arm, and she spun her little body around -

- and slapped her across the face.

Amanda immediately let out a shriek of pain, and the tears began to fall.

So worth it.


Jillian trudged silently up the stairs, but she told herself that she did not care.

Everyone had been upset about the cake. The kids had moaned with disappointment, and Eddie had wailed that his birthday party had been ruined. Mrs. Simkin had been furious. Her parents had been livid - Mom had turned white with anger as she had surveyed her hard work and Amanda's soiled dress and had told Dad to deal with Jillian because she could not even look at her - and, of course, no one had believed her that prissy Amanda had voluntarily jumped into the birthday cake.

Doubly so since Amanda had a red mark on her face.

And Jillian had tried to show her father the used pie pan - only to find that it had been filled with whip cream. Or swapped out with whip cream. Whichever the case, Dad had refused to hear anymore on the subject.

Even Harrison had not taken her side. "You hit your little sister?" he had gasped, his big mouth dropping open.

"She had it coming," she had retorted, but her so-called best friend had only shaken his head before Dad had finally ordered her upstairs.

Amanda had been in the living room, surrounded by the other kids and whimpering up a storm while Katie comforted her, but Jillian had seen Amanda peek through her finger to look at her as she had passed. Faker.

"Go kiss a bee," Jillian had hissed.

Both girls had glared. "We're allergic," Katie had said.

"I know."

Of course, they had then run to Dad to tattle - but Jillian did not care anymore.

She finally reached her room and pushed the door open. She slipped out of her soap-covered clothes into a clean T-shirt and pants - when was the last time she had actually changed in her own room? - and crumbled the pink flower on the windowsill before tossing it into her waste basket. She pulled Petey from his cage, pressing him close as she sat on her bed. He must have sensed her unease because he did not settle down on her shoulder as readily as he usually did, but with enough pets he finally snuggled into her neck. She pressed her burning cheek against Petey's head, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the party, the cake, and Mom's fury - and all those thoughts instantly vanished with one image: Slappys hard eyes staring at her, giving her a greasy smile that made her skin crawl.

Her eyes shot open as her stomach churned.

Why now? Why today? she asked bitterly. She had suspected it all along - more than suspected, if she was honest with herself - but it had been so much easier to tell herself the living dummy who slept in her suitcase was only trying to get a rise out of her whenever he took her hand and called her "sweetheart." She never thought he might sabotage their show to ask for a - a -

She swallowed hard, holding Petey tighter.

Slappy had to see how silly the whole idea was. She was a human. She was going to grow up someday - grow old. He was going to remain the same. He had to understand that. Normal relationships already came with no guarantee of success - there was a good reason why Harrison rarely talked about his dad or the three younger half-siblings he had only met twice.

She rubbed her wrist, still sore from him trapping her hand. Well, there was no way she would like him now after that stunt he pulled - not that she did. The only thing to do was to keep him at arm's length from now on, something she should have done from the get-go. She did not feel that way about him, and she did not want him to get any ideas. They would go back to being partners in revenge, and then she would pay her favor - and never speak to him again.

She set Petey back in his tank and headed into hall. She needed to splash some cool water on her burning face. As she strode past the banister, she glanced down the stairs - and spotted Harrison heading toward the front door. In one arm he carried Maxie. In the other, Slappy.

Good, a part of her thought, yet, despite her anger, she felt her throat tightened. She watched and said nothing as the door closed behind them.

Then a horrible thought struck her.

What was she going to do about Mary-Ellen now?


A/N: All things considered, Jillian should probably be glad Eddie's party turned out differently than it did in the book.