Whenever Amanda was upset, she migrated to their mother's vanity to spritz herself with fragrances until she was drenched in a cloud of suffocating floral aromas - and it took all of Jillian's control not to gag when she stepped through the doorway into the contrasting odors. Amanda's head was down, snuffling as she grabbed one bottle after another - and then she looked up, and her little, teary eyes widened in horror when they locked onto her sister's in the mirror.
It was over in moments. Jillian sprang forward. Amanda tried to duck beneath the bed, but Jillian caught her before she could wiggle under. She grabbed her sweet-smelling sister around the waist and hauled her into the hall, one hand clamped over her snot-covered mouth. Amanda kicked and thrashed and tried to lick Jillian's palm, but Jillian held on and dragged her to the top of the stairs.
She forced Amanda's head back and hissed in her ear, "Look, do you want us both to fall and break our necks?"
Amanda gave another kick, but it was half-hearted, and she finally went limp, and Jillian carried her like a ragdoll down the steps - and the struggle began all over again the moment Jillian's feet touched the carpeted floor, but she continued her path to the front door.
"Leggo! Leggo!" Amanda shrieked in the brief moment Jillian released her mouth to grab the doorknob, but the hand muffled her again - and Jillian did not wait to see if Mom could hear Amanda's wails all the way in the noisy laundry room. She hauled her little sister into the warm autumn sun.
Amanda thrashed the whole way as Jillian carried her around the house to the big tree in the backyard - but she went still as soon Katie came into view.
The girls said nothing as Jillian set Amanda beside her twin. The two regarded each other, and Jillian saw the worry on their identical faces - and the quick glance Amanda shot toward the house.
Jillian folded her arms. "So, are you guys gonna tell me why Katie was hiding in the basement closet?" she asked quietly.
She saw them both stiffened - but then Katie's eyes hardened. "I already told you. I was playing," she insisted. "Hide-and-seek." Moments before, Katie had followed Jillian obediently into the backyard, holding her hand like a lost child. Now, the sobbing girl was gone. The tough tomboy was back.
Jillian gestured to Amanda. "So, why was Amanda upstairs playing with Mom's perfume if you were playing a game?"
Amanda gave her a condescending look - which probably would have been more convincing if it were not for her runny nose. "I got tired of looking for her," she said with a stuffy sniff.
Katie socked her arm. "Jerk!"
"You're the jerk," Amanda retorted, returning the smack.
Jillian said nothing as the two started to shove each other. It looked almost like a real argument.
Almost.
"So, why were you crying, Katie?" she said at last just as her sister made a grab for Amanda's short hair.
Jillian saw Katie flinch, but then her sister quickly gave her a frown. "I was thinking about when Grandpa Jackson died," she said seriously. "I really miss him."
Yeah, right. Jillian looked from one thin face to the other. "Let's take a walk," she said carefully.
The twins quirked identical eyebrows. "Where are we going?" Amanda questioned. "We're still grounded."
Jillian shrugged. "Just around the house."
"Lame!" Katie drawled, rolling her eyes, but Jillian saw her shoot a quick glance to the upstairs windows.
Jillian took her hand. "We'll stay on my side of the house," she promised. She took Amanda's hand as well and quickly led them to the east aisle of yellowing grass.
As they walked up and down the little lane, she squeezed both tiny hands, willing herself to feel something for them - but it was like holding hands with a mannequin in a store window.
Jillian sucked in a deep breath. "Girls, why did you put Petey inside Slappy?" Her voice came out in a croak.
Katie looked up. "We didn't do it," she returned. "We told you that."
"He may be gross, but we wouldn't try to hurt a little animal," Amanda said with grave eyes. "We didn't touch him, Jillian."
Jillian slowed her steps. She wanted to believe them - she actually wanted to believe them - even though the image of her precious pet crawling out of a lifeless, leering dummy's mouth still made her heart race with fresh anger. She looked from one to the other. "Did Mary-Ellen do it?"
She saw them both tense.
Amanda withdrew her hand. "We better go inside now," she said. "Mom will yell at us if she sees us outside."
"Yeah," Katie agreed, stepping away from Jillian. "I want a snack too."
They were good liars, Jillian thought.
So, why were they lying for Mary-Ellen?
Jillian's hands clenched as she watched her sisters break into a run, heading toward the back door - but then both girls stopped in their tracks, freezing.
Alarmed, Jillian shot a sweeping glance at the side house windows, expecting to see a plastic face staring back at her in one of them, but all she saw were Venetian blinds and curtains behind glass. She looked again at her sisters, wondering why they now stood as still as statues.
And then she saw the bee.
Jillian shuffled forward as quickly as she dared. "Stay still, girls," she stammered, her stained voice barely above a whisper. "Stay calm. It'll sting if you move."
"We know that!" Katie snapped through her clenched teeth, eyeing the buzzing bee. Jillian saw her swallow hard as the striped insect moved close to her shoulder, her face, her dangling ponytail - and then it went over to Amanda as if entranced.
Amanda's little face screwed up tight as it orbited around her - because, Jillian realised, Amanda reeked of Mom's favorite floral perfume. The bee hovered around her, dancing around her loose hair as it looked for a flower to harvest.
Don't land. Don't land. Don't land.
"Stay calm," Jillian choked out as if that would help, inching closer. Her heart was pounding so hard her chest hurt. Her frantic mind raced for a solution, and she quickly remembered Mom kept their EpiPens in the kitchen drawer - but would she be able to grab one in time if the bee attacked? Should she run now and leave them, frozen in place with fear, and grab it just in case?
The insect came close to Amanda's nose now, and Amanda let out a whimper, her little body tensing.
Then Jillian knew what she had to do.
Without a second thought she stepped toward her little sister, reached out - and closed her hand around the bee.
"Oww! Oww! Oww!"
"Jillian, hold still," Mom ordered. She gave the stinger one more tug with the tweezer, and the offending bee appendage finally popped out of Jillian's throbbing hand. Mom flicked it quickly into the open trash can before she laid the ice pack Amanda had retrieved onto the injured area. She turned her head towards the two younger girls. "Katie, can you get the First-Aid kit from the upstairs bathroom?"
"I'll go with you!" Amanda said quickly, taking her twin's hand with a protective look, and the two disappeared.
Jillian did not hear them thundering up the steps like normal - but, then, they probably did not want to be heard.
Mom sighed, shaking her head. "This warm weather. Bugs are still swarming around. We're supposed to get a cold snap tomorrow night, but..." She trailed off, her brow furrowing, but then she recovered and patted Jillian's arm. "That was a brave thing you did, sweetie."
Jillian lowered her gaze. "I didn't want them to die," she said in a monotone. Was that all she could say? she thought glumly. Was that all she could feel toward them now besides anger and apathy?
Mom pushed Jillian's bangs back. "Of course, you didn't," she replied. "You love them."
She felt her mouth twitch. "I don't think so," she said flatly. "I'm always angry at them, Mom. Sometimes, all I want to do is knock their heads together."
"I know," Mom said quietly. To Jillian's surprise, Mom gave her arm a gentle tug and, still holding the ice pack in place, guided Jillian to the kitchen table. She sat down beside Jillian, facing her, and squeezed her wrist gently.
"It's good for you to learn this now while you're still young," her mother began, "before the boys start noticing you, and you get some silly teenage notion of what love is. In some ways, love is beautifully complex. In other ways it's so easy, you wonder why you didn't understand it the first time around - and that goes for family love, friendship love, romantic love." She tilted Jillian's head back so that their eyes met. "I've always told you sisters had to love each other, but I never told you sisters had to like each other."
Jillian quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Mom gave a sad smile. "You can like someone without loving them, Jillian, and you can love someone without liking them. There are plenty of people in our family that you could not pay me to ride in a car with - but I'll more than certainly cry at their funeral. Does that make sense?"
"I guess," she replied glumly. Didn't make her feel any better.
Mom smoothed back Jillian's bangs and gave her ponytail an affectionate tug. "You know, I thought I hated your Aunt Lu growing up. All of our fights turned into us pulling each other's hair. I would sometimes throw pennies into fountains and loudly wish for space aliens to take her away, just to make her mad." She shook her head, a look of self-reproach in her gray eyes.
Jillian nodded. "Aunt Lu told me about that," she remembered.
"Of course, she would," Mom chuckled. "And for years I wished she would just disappear off the face of the earth - and then one night she did not come home when she was supposed to." Her mouth became a thin line. "Grandpa and Grandma took the car to search for her while Aunt Rosie and Aunt Gracie went to check with the neighbors, and I waited at the house in case she came back. It was a nightmare. I couldn't stop crying. I was so scared that my little sister got kidnapped or got hit by a car or was dead in a ditch somewhere."
"What happened?"
Mom rolled her eyes and gave another small shake of her head. "Well, Louise had gone over to a friend's house and lost track of time. I was even more mad at her after that, but, even so, I knew that night how much my sister meant to me. I didn't like her, but I loved her. Still do. So much I named my first girl after her," and here she gave Jillian's thin nose a light tap. "Don't believe everything you see on T.V., sweetie. Love isn't a warm, ooey-gooey emotion. It isn't a happy family that always hugs and never fights. It's a choice. To be concerned for someone, to stand by them, to help them even at the cost of your own happiness - and this hand I'm holding tells me that you love your sisters very, very much."
But do I really? she thought glumly. Sure, she had not wanted them to have an allergic reaction and die, but she would not want a random kid in China to die either. Could she even love them anymore? She had spent the last two weeks plotting to do horrible things to them as payback for all the horrible things they had done to her - or seemed to have done to her...
Jillian looked up as footsteps approached, and in moments the girls came in with the First-Aid kit.
"Let's get some Neosporin on you, and you'll be good to go," Mom said cheerfully.
As Mom applied the ointment to her hand, Jillian turned and saw the girls watching her. Amanda had her hands wrapped around Katie's arm as if she were afraid she would float away. Once again, Jillian willed herself to feel something tender, but all she could think of was the girls giggling after the fire - after the birthday-cake fiasco - always in cahoots with that doll.
...The doll that could project images into her head, who put Slappy to sleep, who told the girls to destroy her tapes, who called Harrison and hurt him.
Even if I don't love them, I gotta get them away from her.
Mom finally released her, and Jillian slowly rose and stepped over to them. She jerked her head, and they obediently followed her into the hallway. When she was sure she was out of earshot, she turned to them. "Hey, you guys wanna sleep in my room tonight?"
Amanda's eyes widened in shock. Katie shook her head fiercely. "Mary-Ellen won't let us."
Jillian gave her sister's ponytail an awkward tug. "Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"
Slappy certainly looked surprised when she came in with the twins trailing behind her, but Jillian did not pause. "Stay with Slappy," she told the girls.
The dummy quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna clue me in there, pal?"
"Just a second," she returned and closed the door. She took a deep breath - and headed down the hall before she could change her mind.
Mary-Ellen was sitting on Amanda's bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of her, Bunnicula in her lap. She did not move as Jillian approached.
"Don't get up on my account," Jillian said. She grabbed a fistful of mop-yarn hair with her uninjured hand and turned on her heel, dragging the doll into hallway.
The doll finally spoke.
What do you think you're doing?! Mary-Ellen demanded. Let go of me, you filthy flesh girl!
"Nope," Jillian replied and started down the stairs, swinging the doll by her hair - and not bothering to hide her smile as she heard the thunk, thunk, thunk of the plastic body hitting the steps.
You'll pay for this, brat! the doll growled. Put me down, and I'll let you live long enough to see your next birthday. I'm warning you!
"Warn away," she replied. "Mom is downstairs. Give a shout, and she'll come help you."
Jillian felt a flood of foreign anger rush through her mind. You'll pay dearly! You'll be sorry!
Jillian forced herself to keep her face straight. "Sounds fun," she replied and made her way to the back door, stepping out into the warm sunshine.
The flood of anger was turning into a tsunami, and wave after wave of horrible images flashed across Jillian's mind, causing her stomach to churn - but she kept tight hold on the frizzy mane. "I know you are, but what are you?" she said through her teeth.
She took the doll right to the fence and headed to the corner. She finally lifted Mary-Ellen up so that they could look each other in the eyes. "I'd say it's nothing personal, but Mom says we shouldn't lie."
The doll stared at her blankly, but the violet eyes still managed to look as sharp as a knife. What happens next is on you.
Jillian gripped the hair tighter. "Bring it on." Immediately, she swung her arm back and heaved the huge doll high in the air, sending her sailing into the catty-cornered backyard.
She heard the rustle of Mary-Ellen hitting the Petersons' decorative bushes - thankfully, they were out of town - and immediately, she turned and flew back into the house before her mind could linger on it too long. Now she had to act.
In moments, she was in her room. The girls were huddled beside her dresser, eyeing Slappy with apprehension, and they both looked up with obvious relief as she came in.
"Where were you?" Katie asked.
Slappy frowned at her. "What did you do?" he demanded suspiciously.
Despite her panting, Jillian gave a nonchalant shrug. "I threw Mary-Ellen over the fence."
The response was instantaneous.
"You - did - WHAT?!" the dummy screeched.
Amanda clutched Katie's arm. "Why?! Why?! You'll make her mad!" she wailed.
"She'll get you for this!" Katie cried. "She'll hurt you! Bad!"
Slappy jumped off the desk, landing hard on his black shoes. "Have you lost your mind?!" he demanded, striding up to her, and swept his hand toward her sisters. "She's connected to one of them, dummy. She'll find her way back. Remember what I told you about Woody?!" he shrieked.
Jillian gave the seething dummy a small smile. "That's what I'm counting on."
She stuffed the video camera on the top shelf of the twins' closet and settled back on her heels. "Don't fall asleep," she ordered the stuffed squirrel and cat perched on either side of the device. "Turn it on as soon as she comes in - and keep quiet."
The beanbag dolls saluted. Jillian left the door open a tiny crack. They would leave the twins' old nightlight on for the camera to film - and, hopefully, it would also lure that doll into the room. She turned to see her sisters watching her, both of them holding their pajamas, which they would change into later.
"So, that's how you got the worms in the bed!" Katie cried, eyeing the closet that contained her now living dolls with a mixture of awe and indignation.
Jillian nodded, forcing a smile. "Slappy did the real work," she said, gesturing to the dummy leaning against the wall. "He's the smartest guy I know."
Slappy shot her a dirty look. "Coming from you, that's not saying much," he cracked. His glower deepened. "I don't like this, Jillian. At all."
"Is there anything you do like, Slappy?" she returned briskly. "C'mon, let's go." She scooped the dummy up in one arm, and they all headed back to Jillian's room.
Slappy immediately took charge of the situation. "Okay, brats, time to talk," he ordered as soon as Jillian set him on the desk.
The two glanced at each other before turning to their older sister.
"Go on," Jillian encouraged them. "He's on our side."
Katie took a deep breath, trembling. She did not look at the dummy but kept her eyes on Jillian. "We wanted to tell you, Jillian," she said, her squeaky voice coming out shaky, "but Mary-Ellen wouldn't let us. The first day Dad brought her home, she started ordering us around. She made us take her everywhere. She said if we told anyone, she'd hurt us." Jillian saw her swallow hard. "We wanted to tell you the truth, Jillian. Honest. But she - she'd put these pictures in our heads. Show us the scary stuff she'd do to us. We didn't know what to do."
"Mary-Ellen did everything," Amanda cried, hugging herself. "She stuffed your lizard inside Slappy and put the soap in the pie and - and set fire to the kitchen." She gulped noisily. Her miserable eyes met Jillian's. "She wanted to hurt you and get you in trouble. She was going to carry Slappy around everywhere and make you think he was alive. So Mom and Dad would think you were crazy."
"She was gonna wake him up the first night," Katie added. "She made us sneak into your room and take him to the living room. She was gonna read the words and then play a game with him - and then we heard you coming down, and she told us to scare you instead."
When I went to tie their laces together, Jillian remembered but remained silent. That first Saturday, right after losing the girls at the ventriloquist show - and after enduring an hour of being ignored at Dairy Queen in favor of a lifeless toy - it had been more than infuriating when Jillian had been forced to sit next to Mary-Ellen at dinner, only for the girls to keep talking to the doll, shutting out the rest of the world. Jillian had been so sick of being snubbed that she had slammed Mary-Ellen's head into the doll's plate of macaroni - but it had not been enough. She had wanted a good revenge - and, admittedly, tying shoelaces was nothing special, but it had been all she could think of at the time. She had jumped out of bed and had sneaked downstairs. But then she had heard creaks across the living-room floorboards - and then she had seen eyes staring at her in the darkness - and then she had turned on the lights to see Slappy sitting there, watching her coldly...
And then the girls had giggled and had begun to slap each other high fives, crowing over their prank. Like always.
"She was gonna keep him asleep for a little longer," Katie continued. "She wanted you to think Slappy was doing mean things to you. But you woke him up instead - and started playing with him. That made her really mad."
"We hated her!" Amanda cried. "But we had to pretend that we liked her so that Mom and Dad wouldn't throw her away - or she'd hurt them." Her green eyes were becoming misty. "She made us take her everywhere. She was so mean to us!"
Jillian held her gaze. "So, why did you guys laugh after the fire?" she asked, trying to push down the familiar flare.
Both girls immediately squirmed, averting their eyes.
Finally, Katie said, softly, "Mary-Ellen gets mad when we don't laugh at her jokes."
Oh.
"Never mind all that," Slappy cut in with an impatient growl. He leaned forward, staring the girls down. "Think back. What were you freaks doing when she started talking to you?"
Amanda gulped. "I - I think we were watching T.V.," she stammered, glancing at Katie. "Mom and Dad were downstairs, and - and - Jillian was out of the house. We didn't want Mary-Ellen 'cause she was so ugly - "
"So, we put her in the closet!" Katie interrupted, eyes widening. "I remember! We were watching T.V., and she came up behind us and said we had to do whatever she told us."
"And what about before that, kid?" Slappy pressed, speaking through his wooden teeth. "Think! Between when Daddy gave her to you and the time you put her away. Did she ever tell you how she came to life?"
"N-No," Amanda whimpered. "She didn't."
"Are you sure?" Slappy demanded, his hoarse voice growing shriller. "Did you find a slip of paper on her dress? Did Mommy or Daddy mention reading weird words in a foreign language? Anything?!"
"Slappy, calm down," Jillian ordered, stepping between him and the girls.
The dummy shot her a nasty look, but before he could respond, Katie said, "No, her dress didn't have pockets - I remember because it wasn't fancy. She made us throw it away after she started wearing Amanda's dresses. Amanda gives her all her pretty stuff," she explained, "or she gets mad."
The ugly expression on the dummy's face deepened. "Well," he said at last, "this complicates things."
"Anything?"
The stuffed squirrel just shook its head.
Jillian heaved a sigh. "Thanks anyway." She turned on her heel ventured back into her own room, clenching her hands.
The girls were huddled together on the bed, both with tired faces and silent. Jillian forced a smile. "Better wash up for school," she told them. "I know you guys still need to brush your teeth."
Amanda nodded, and Katie did not even make a fuss. They trailed into the bathroom together, clutching each other's hands. Jillian stood at her door, just inside her room, keeping an eye on the hall.
"Maybe we could move the dolls and the camera in here," she said, thinking out loud. "In case she comes looking for you while we're gone. You could hide in the laundry room or something - Petey too."
"Sounds like a lot of work," Slappy replied dryly from his spot beside the glass cage.
"Well, I'm trying," she snapped, turning to face him. "You haven't come up with any bright ideas either."
Slappy shook his head. "You should have slept when I told you, pal," he said. "You're cranky today."
Jillian exhaled with disgust. "I'm not cranky - I'm angry," she seethed. "I'm trying to stop a magical doll from destroying my life, and I don't know how. She's hurt my best friend and got me in trouble and almost burnt down my house." She jerked a hand toward the bathroom door. "And then I find out she's been hurting my sisters this whole time, and I was too stupid to notice. I thought they liked Mary-Ellen, but they were just her - her servants, Slappy. For months and months!"
"Like it's all that impressive," he muttered darkly.
"Be serious!" she shot back - and sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. Yelling at Slappy was not the solution. She made herself count to ten before she spoke again. "Look, I've been doing a little thinking - shut up," she ordered as he began to open his grinning mouth. "If she has magic, why didn't she use it on Mom and Dad?" she asked. "They have money and a car and - and can reach stuff on the top shelf. What can two six-year-olds do?"
Slappy gave her a look. "Magic has a cost, pal. A few parlor tricks to keep a pair of brats in line is way different than what it would take to keep an adult your slave. Trust me."
She took a small step toward him. "You keep saying magic has a price, but what does that mean?" she pressed. "I mean, hear me out, if magic has a cost, couldn't we use that against her? Somehow?"
"You mean, you want the psycho doll turning you into a frog?" he cracked.
"You know what I mean," she glowered.
He shook his head. "It depends on the spell," he said at last, "but I can tell you that if you don't pay up, magic will find a way to collect anyway." He shuddered visibly. "But, usually, there are things you can offer instead. Like a fortune teller trading a reading for a warm coat. A queen guessing a dwarf's name to keep her child. A genie giving three wishes because you freed him. A favor between friends. A life for a life. It's fairly easy to get around when it's low-key stuff, but the bigger the spell, the bigger the cost. So, I doubt we're going to get her to create a tornado anytime soon," he added dryly.
A favor between friends...
She studied him for a moment - and tried to ignore the chill that crept up her back. "And what's the cost of your magic?" she asked carefully.
A small grin appeared. "Don't you worry your pretty head about little ol' me, buddy. I can take care of myself. Right now, let's focus on getting rid of the junkyard fodder."
Jillian frowned. "Slappy, seriously."
He uttered a snort. "Let me worry about that, Jillian," he said, giving her a look. "Why don't we just survive this first, okay?"
She heaved a sigh. He had a point - she did not like it, but he had a point. "So, what can we do?" she asked. Her voice came out strained.
His smile returned. "Who says we have to stay here?"
Jillian shook her head. "I can't run away. I'm human, Slappy. I need food and water. How would we get it? And don't say stealing," she warned.
He gave a small chuckle. "I can promise you, Jillian, that if you're by my side, you'll never starve." His large eyes twinkled. "If you don't mind corndogs for dinner, you, me and the brats could flag down my old carnival buddies for a lift. Big Al still owes me."
She gave him a look. "We're talking about the same Carnival of Horrors, right?" she returned flatly.
He held up his hands. "Okay, okay, maybe I exaggerated a little," he returned. "It makes for a good yarn, right? But the carnival changes locations every night. Mary-Ellen would never be able to track your sisters. And don't you think the twins would love living in a carnival? Roller coasters and games and a hall of mirrors and a reptile's petting zoo."
Jillian shook her head. "You honestly think my sisters would go for a petting zoo with reptiles?" she cracked. "They already hate Petey."
"With reptiles. For reptiles. My point is they'll be safe - you'll be safe," he said, giving her a meaningful look. "But even if we don't go there, there are other places where I could take you, Jillian. We could be happy there. We can do stuff there." He leaned forward, his blue eyes becoming more and more excited. "With my brains and your talent, we could rule the world if we wanted."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, a snicker escaped her. She rubbed her chin. "Hmm, 'King Slappy'? ...Nope. I'd never be able to take you seriously again."
An ugly scowl crossed his face. "And what if King Slappy sent you to be executed, smart aleck?" he demanded. "Would you take me seriously then?"
"Probably not," she replied, causing his glower to deepen - which only made her laugh more. She gave him a kind look. "C'mon, even you have to admit it's a little funny."
"Like chest pains," he shot back, turning away.
Don't lose another friend, Jillian.
She stepped toward him, ready to apologize, but then he suddenly spoke, quietly, "I wasn't always called Slappy, you know."
That took her aback. "What's your name then?"
He waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter," he grumbled. "My maker named me after him. Well, his first name, anyway. Daddy Dearest gave my brother his middle name. I wasn't gonna be part of a matching set with that sick freak, and I wasn't going to be anyone's Junior either, especially to a man I never met. Even if he did give me life."
She glanced over her shoulder - she could still hear the twins rustling around in the bathroom - and turned back to him. "I thought you learned magic from him?"
His head was still turned away, but she saw him make a face. "I only came to life when he died, and what I did learn came from a journal he left behind. I had to be sneaky since my brother wouldn't let me touch it, but it was weeks after the estate sale before I even knew what Pop had named me. So, I wasn't overly attached to it anyway."
She leaned against the wall. "So, why 'Slappy' then?" she asked softly.
He folded his arms, looking ahead of him, and his blue eyes suddenly became reflective. "A girl named Lindy Powell found me. When I woke up, she was calling me Slappy because I would 'slap your face'," he explained, switching to a feminine-sounding voice, and he raised his hand, slapping the air in front of him as if an unseen hand were controlling it. A mysterious smile appeared on his chipped lips. "She was quite the girl, that one," he chuckled. "Always at odds with her twin sister - none of that cutesy speaking in unison stuff. Loved pranks. Loved ventriloquism. Had a bizarre fascination with rap music - but, hey, who's perfect?"
Jillian studied him for a moment. He had mentioned a few of his previous humans in passing before, but he never went into great detail or spoke so… affectionately about them. "Sounds like you guys had fun together," she said at last.
"You might say that," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "Wasn't too bad on the eyes either. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Not my type, but it looked better on her than her twin," he added, chuckling at his own joke.
"Uh-huh."
He rested his head against his hand. "That was five years ago. I guess, as fleshies go, she was not half bad. Probably one of the best humans I've ever been with."
"Wow, thanks," Jillian cracked, rolling her eyes.
Slappy blinked and slowly lifted his head, turning to face her. His large eyes regarded her for a moment - and then a spark of mischief appeared. "Jillian Louise," he said, his red grin spreading, "are you jealous?"
She stiffened. "Get real."
Slappy shook his head, giggling. "Talk about a master of mixed messages, you little scamp!"
She was not going to dignify that one with a response. She turned on her heel, stepping into the hall. "I'm outta here."
"C'mon, there's no need to play hard to get," he tittered. "You can be honest with me, sweetheart."
"And you can walk yourself to the laundry room," she shot back, closing the door behind her - and promptly shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
The girls kept close to her side right up until Jillian had to leave for school, practically sitting on her lap during breakfast. Finally, they trailed behind her to the door as she pulled on her sneakers. Though it was still an hour before they had to leave, the girls sat down on either side of her and grabbed their own shoes.
"I'll be home as soon as I can," she promised them. "Just stay close to Mom, okay?"
Katie's brow furrowed. "But what if she hurts Mom?" she whispered.
Jillian took her hand. "Slappy says that she won't, and I believe him." She gave her ponytail a tug - she hoped it looked convincing. "Want me to help you tie your shoes before I go?" she offered. The girls used to come to her with their laces because Jillian was a really good knot-tier. She could make a bow tight enough that it kept in place all day.
They both nodded and slipped on their sneakers - and Amanda suddenly let out a groan of disgust. "Eww!" she cried, yanking her foot back. The toes of her socks were covered in a thick glob of -
"Pudding," Jillian breathed as a clump splattered onto the floor.
Amanda let out a whimper. "It's because we didn't obey her," she cried, clutching Jillian's arm. "She's trying to make Mom mad!"
"Is she gonna think I did it?" Katie squeaked.
What happens next is on you.
Jillian forced a smile and slung a stiff arm around Amanda's shoulders. "Can you wear your dress shoes today?" she suggested. "You can wear something nice, and we'll clean your shoes later."
Amanda shook her head, her eyes serious. "Mom doesn't let me because my shoes got scuffed on the playground last time." She cast a disgusted look at the messy sneakers. "I gotta wear them," she said at last with a note of grave finality.
"Are you sure?"
Amanda nodded, wincing, before she took her sneakers and stepped out onto the porch. She dumped the pudding into the bushes as best as she could before dutifully slipping her socked feet into the squishy mess. "Gross, gross, gross," she moaned, stepping heavily back into the house with Katie close behind.
Jillian was about to follow them, when she happened to glance to the side - and she stopped, staring.
Since the house did not have a garage, Jillian usually kept her bicycle chained to the front porch's railing if the weather permitted - only now, as Jillian stepped forward slowly on trembling legs, she saw that both of her bike tires were slashed.
All through elementary school, Harrison and Jillian had been in the same class. Now, in middle school, they only had lunch period together - and Harrison turned on his heel the moment their eyes met from across the cafeteria. Jillian did not follow him.
She had math class immediately afterward, and she barely paid attention as her mind kept drifting to Harrison. He needs to know, she told herself. Slappy had not changed his mind about telling him - right? Maybe she could drop the dummy off at the Cohens' house. Sure, Harrison would be wondering what she was doing with his puppet, but Slappy could talk to him then and get the whole story out.
She had resolved to do just that the very moment school let out when the bell for the next period rang - and Mrs. Jones asked her to stay after class.
Her teacher motioned for Jillian to take the seat in front of her desk while she rose to her feet. She was a tall woman with glasses. Even though she gave out assignments that numbed Jillian's brain, she was pretty okay and usually had a smile for all her students.
Except now.
"Would you like to explain this to me?" her teacher asked coldly, holding out two stapled pieces of paper - which Jillian promptly recognized as her homework. Mrs. Jones laid the papers on the school desk, but instead of numbers written in pencil, Jillian's answers had been replaced with large, ink letters.
MRS JONES
IS A
BOOGER BRAIN
Her mouth dropped open.
"I don't appreciate class clowns, Jillian," Mrs. Jones said.
Jillian pointed a shaky finger at the worksheet. "But you - you can see the eraser marks!" she cried. "You can see where I showed my work! I didn't do this!"
Her teacher did not look convinced. "I expect more of you, Jillian. I'm afraid you're going to be written up for this, and I will be calling your mother."
If Mrs. Jones said anything else, Jillian did not hear her. She could only stare at the crudely written words in front of her - which looked as if a tiny, stiff hand had been holding the pen.
She had left her backpack by the door before she had fixed breakfast for herself and the twins. Long enough for someone to tamper with it.
Jillian swallowed hard.
As soon as she saw that Mom had forgotten to pick her up, Jillian hurried home as fast as she could, her sneakers pounding on the pavement, but it was still quite a distance from the school to her house, and she had to slow down more often than she cared for to catch her breath, weighed down under her heavy backpack. Eventually, she turned onto her street, and she renewed her sprint, and within moments she saw her house - and both twins on the front stoop.
The girls rushed toward her before she even passed the Smith's house, and each grabbed one of her hands.
"You're home!" Katie cried happily.
It took Jillian a moment before she could answer her. "Why didn't you wait inside with Mom?" she panted.
"She's taking a shower," Amanda replied. "She did her work-out video today."
"You could've hung out with Slappy," Jillian returned.
"Slappy doesn't like us," Katie said seriously.
She forced a smile. "He's just different," she assured her. "He takes some getting used to, but he's a good friend when you get to know him."
They were obviously not convinced. "He always looks angry," Amanda shuddered.
"And mean," Katie added.
She gave her hand a squeeze. "Not all the time," she promised before she led the way into the house. The girls trailed behind her like ducklings all the way to the laundry room. Jillian knocked before she entered.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the dummy grinned, flicking off his flashlight as she clicked on the light. "What's up?"
She glanced at the twins, who were huddled together just outside the door. "I'll tell you later," she said softly. No need to scare them right now, she told herself before she took the shoebox beside the dummy. Petey blinked at her sleepily as she opened the lid. "Did you have fun with Uncle Slappy?" she asked the lizard, giving his leathery chin a scratch.
"Oh, sure. He's a riveting conversationalist," Slappy said dryly.
"You should hear his knock-knock jokes," Jillian replied and handed the shoebox to Katie, who took it obediently. She tried not to look at the grinning wooden face as she pulled him toward her. She looped an arm around his chest, positioning him so that he was facing outward, and she followed the twins toward the staircase.
Slappy leaned his head back against her shoulder. "Miss me?" he whispered.
She kept her eyes ahead. "Nope," she replied.
He gave a soft giggle. "Yeah, right."
Soon they were in the upstairs hall. Jillian opened her door for the twins, ushering them in, and -
"Whoa!" Katie squeaked.
"Oh, my goodness!" Amanda moaned.
Jillian did not say anything. She could not tear her eyes from the mess.
Stuffing. Pillow stuffing. Everywhere. On the bed. Across the floor. On top the clothes that had been pulled out of her dresser and tossed in every direction. Her collection of books, previously retrieved from the twins' room, were now ripped apart, their pages strewn around like confetti. Her markers had been pulled from her desk and scattered, but not before the vandal had drawn squiggles on her cream-colored walls. Her circus posters had been hauled from the closet and ripped to shreds; her favorite clown stared back at her with a chunk of his grinning face missing.
Then she saw the beanbag dolls - or, at least, what was left of them. Little heads had been ripped from their now deflated bodies, their fillings mixing with the rest of the mess.
And right in the middle of the room were the smashed remains of Dad's video camera.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.
By this point some of you are probably wondering why Slappy calls Mr. Wood "Woody" instead of Wally. This is for two reason. First, in the original Night of the Living Dummy book, Slappy refers to Mr. Wood as "that other guy." This makes me think that, even though the dummies were created from the same coffin and probably came to life at the same time, Slappy doesn't actually remember Mr. Wood's real name. In this fic he knows that Mr. Wood has the toymaker's middle name, but it's been so long that he just refers to him using the name Kris gave him.
Secondly, Mr. Wood and Wally are not literally the same dummy. A big plot point of Slappy's Nightmare is that Wally is perfectly identical to Slappy, right down to his red-and-white sport jacket. (He is mentioned as having blue eyes too.) In the book, Slappy is cursed to do three good deeds. His attempts are cleaning a bedroom, entertaining a girl in a wheelchair, and rescuing a baby from being strangled by his own blanket. All of these are sabotaged in a way that makes Slappy think it's his owner's sister, Stella, doing everything out of jealousy toward her older sister. The girl in the wheelchair gets pushed down the hill, and Stella claims Slappy did it. Of course, Slappy didn't, which makes him think Stella is lying (and he even tries to kill her to keep her from ruining his deeds). Instead Stella saw Wally. She did not say, "Slappy pushed her down the hill - and he had red hair and green eyes for some reason." Wally is supposed to look exactly like Slappy. He is even described as being a prototype of Slappy, whereas Mr. Wood and Slappy were made from the exact same coffin. You could make the argument that since Slappy's Nightmare is, well, Slappy's nightmare, Wally is how Slappy sees Mr. Wood on his subconscious level, but they are not literally the same dummy.