I've always hated little girls. They tease and whisper too much. Fucking bitches. I also hate playgrounds. I hate laughter. I hate everything, damn it.

Well, there is one thing I don't hate…

It was Thursday afternoon during recess. A few days had passed since the mysterious explosion of the house on the corner, but the small first graders cared nothing of it. They had better things to worry about, namely who would get to the swing first or who would fall off the monkey bars and so on. Krista was convincing Quanisha to ask Andy just one more time if he would play with them. "I dunno, Krista," she responded. "I think the little guy wants to play by himself, don't you?" Krista shook her head in disagreement. "No. I just think he's shy. C'mon, just one more time, please?" Quanisha finally agreed, thought muttering that she doubted this would work.

Andy saw them coming his way. "What do I say, Chucky?" he asked nervously. Chucky could feel the small boy shaking. "What are you looking at me for?" he griped. "I always avoided the opposite sex if I could. Actually, I avoid anybody, really." Andy sighed. "Well, you didn't do such a great job of avoiding me," he replied, equally as grouchy because he had hoped for better advice than what he had gotten.

Chucky had no response to that.

Krista, the girl with the long, brown piggy-tails spoke first. "You wanna play with us today?" she asked cheerfully. Andy stared; his throat was dry, and he wasn't sure what to say. The little black girl piped up, "We're playing Super-Dolls. My Barbie Latifah has the power of singing, and Krista's doll Lisa has the power of… what was it you called that again?" Krista giggled. "Combat strategies," she said, her childish tongue still struggling with the words. Andy felt warmth rise up inside, and he opened his mouth before he could stop it. "Sure," he said. The girls looked as if they could have jumped miles into the sky. "Great!" Krista exclaimed. Quanisha gave Andy's doll a look-over. "What's your doll's super-power?" Andy looked spitefully at Chucky. He was still a little miffed at how the doll was behaving lately. "Who, Chucky?" he asked slowly. At the girls' nod, he got a slightly devious idea, and he grinned. "Chucky doesn't have super-powers."

"Uhh, well then, what's he gonna do?" Quanisha asked. "He can be the damsel in distress," Andy said simply. Chucky gagged, which startled the girls once again. "Excuse… what?!" he exclaimed. "I am not going to be no fucking…" Andy stood up and lifted Chucky with him. "Yah," he said, ignoring him. "Your dolls can rescue mine." He smiled. Krista pointed at Chucky. "He… he can talk?" she asked. Quanisha stood with her mouth agape. Andy rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately," he said. "Wow," Quanisha breathed. She touched Chucky in awe. "He's like, for real. Like Toy Story real." Chucky bit at her fingers. "Don't touch me!" he spat. Quanisha and Krista jumped back, but Andy scowled at Chucky and smacked his mouth. "Bad Chucky," he said, making the girls giggle. "We don't bite girls."

"These aren't girls," Chucky argued. "These are aliens…" Andy shook his head. "He's alright, really," he told them. Krista nodded. "Well, you wanna play now?" Andy laughed. "Yah," he said. "I'm ready. Where should I put Chucky?"

After what seemed like hours to Chucky of playing this ridiculous game that the two girls had invented, they finally lay down in the grass, all still laughing and flushed from all the exercise. "Phew," Andy sighed, putting his arms around Chucky in mock relief. "Thanks for saving my doll, Super Lisa and Latifah." Krista picked up her doll and moved her arms. "You are sooo welcome, Andy!" she said in a sing-song voice, making them all laugh again. "Hey," Quanisha fake barked. "Tell your doll Chucky to be more realistic next time. He didn't scream one bit like a damsel in distress would." Chucky growled. "That's because I didn't really need rescuing, you stupid…" he began, but at Andy's face he fell silent and simply scowled grotesquely."It's just pretend, Chucky," he said. "Yah," Krista added. "We know you weren't in any real trouble. Else we would have called the teacher, that's what we'd do, right Quanisha?" The black girl was holding her Barbie up in the air, singing at the top of her lungs, "I need a hero! I'm holdin' out for a hero till the end of the night!" Krista laughed. "That's from Shrek, isn't it?" she asked. Quanisha nodded. "You're really good at that," Andy said. Quanisha looked at him. "At what?" she asked. "Singing," Andy replied, somewhat sheepishly.

"You think so?" Quanisha asked. At Andy's nod she went on. "I'm gonna be a famous singer one day," she proclaimed. "I'm gonna sing just like Rihanna and Beyoncé and all those other famous people!" Chuck rolled his eyes. "Yah, and sing all those stupid love songs like them too," he said. Krista just looked at him. "Andy, no offense, I love Chucky and all, but why is he so… um…" Andy finished her sentence. "Grouchy? I don't know. He's not always… never mind, actually, he is kinda always like that." Quanisha turned over to look at them. Then she snapped her fingers. "Omigosh!" she exclaimed. "He's gotta be sick!" Andy looked confused. "Who, Chucky?" he asked, with his doll saying, "Who, me? With what?" at the same time. "Yah, you!" Quanisha said. "There's no way a healthy, normal person is grumpy all the time!"
Krista nodded. "That's true…" she began.

"Well," said Andy slowly. "He did have something wrong with his tummy…" The girls began coming up with several explanations, from seasonal flu to tuber-cu-lis-us, as Krista called it. Try as he might to say otherwise, Chucky could not get Andy to listen to him. It was clear something was wrong with Andy's doll. He was sick with something. "Let's ask Ms. Kettlewell!" Krista said suddenly. "She'll know what to do!" The children ran towards their teacher, much as Chucky complained and tried to convince them to stop. "Ms. Kettlewell! Ms. Kettlewell!" they shouted. Their teacher looked up, concerned. Whatever could be wrong? Was someone hurt? "Ms. Kettlewell, Chucky is sick!" Andy cried. "Yah, real sick!" Quanisha chimed in. "We don't know what he's diagnosed with!" Krista added. "And he could die!" Andy ended dramatically. There were three pairs of wide eyes looking up at their teachers. She smiled to herself; oh, the innocence of child's play.

"Alright," she said as seriously as she could. "Tell me the symptoms." Andy held up Chucky so she could look at him. "His tummy hurts," he said. "He's grumpy all the time!" Krista said. "And… he's a potty-mouth!" Quanisha said. Ms. Kettlewell looked up, mildly alarmed. "What?" she asked. "You know, a potty-mouth," Quanisha began. "He said the f-u-c…" Ms. Kettewell laughed nervously and interrupted her. "Alright-y then, honey, let's not repeat that," she said. Gravely, she gave her hypothesis. "For that potty-mouth, I suggest you wash his mouth out with soap. For that stomach-ache, I would say," she put her finger up to her lips in thought. "Yes. Chicken soup will do." The children responded with a chorus of "Yumm!" and "I like that stuff!" She smiled. "And, for that entire grouch," she concluded, giving Andy back his doll, "I say all he needs is lots of love." Andy took Chucky and squeezed him tight. "I can do that!" he said happily.

As she ushered her students back into the classroom, a thought occurred to her. Where did these children get these ideas from? She knew Quanisha's mother was a policewoman; perhaps that little girl heard too much? Krista seemed alright, but it was Andy that really worried her. He had a very strong attachment to that doll. It was almost a bit frightening. Especially for a boy, this sort of clinging was a bit unhealthy. She wondered what was going on at home. "Don't be silly, Rachel," she chided herself. But still, as she watched Andy quietly slide into his seat and whisper in his doll's ear, she couldn't help but feel that something was wrong.

Her worries were stretched even more when she began grading papers after the bell had rung and the children had gone home. Andy had written the answers, alright, but it was what was written on top of it that startled her. In red crayon, it said,

You think you're so nice, huh? Damn teacher. You're all the same. Lying through your teeth, about love and fairness; you're just as bad as the other bullies in the school.

You're a bitch, you know that? I know that. I know everything…

***

Everything feels in balance now. I knew something was off.

Andy saw it on the news. There was a man who had died in the house that had exploded that day. No one could figure out how the house had suddenly caught on fire the way it did. He looked at Chucky, "Isn't that weird?" he asked him. Chucky just shrugged. When Chucky was quiet, Andy knew something was up. That was how his doll behaved when he was hiding something, or when he was lying. But what was he hiding? Andy thought they were friends. Friends don't hide things from each other. They just don't. "Chucky," he said. "What?" his doll growled at him. "I know you're lying," Andy replied. He could hear the couch squeak as Chucky squirmed. "Listen, Andy, there's just some things…" But Andy wouldn't take that. "Chucky…" he almost growled.

"Alright, fine!" Chucky relented. "I blew up the house, okay? I killed that guy." Andy's eyes widened. "Chucky!" he gasped. "How could you? Killing is bad!" Chucky shook his head. "Not in this case," he said. "He deserved it." Andy's face fell, disappointment was obvious on his face. "Chucky," he said slowly. "Killing is never right. Even for revenge. I could try to kill whoever hit my dad in the car accident, but I don't want to do that. It wouldn't bring my dad back." Chucky looked away, but Andy made him face up again. "Whatever that guy did to you, killing him didn't take it away did it?" Chucky shook his head again. "But it made me feel better," he griped. Andy held Chucky close to him. "Please don't do stuff like that," he whispered. "If you become some scary killer, what am I going to do? We couldn't be friends anymore. Promise me you won't do stuff like that anymore?"

His doll only nodded. Andy decided to trust him, but something felt wrong…

***

I suppose it's better he knew. It will help him in the long run, to realize what I really am. Especially since I'm going to have to leave him anyways.

It feels good to be the one doing the betraying this time. But my stomach is gnawing at me again…