Night of the Living Dummy

  But now, following Kris’s horrified stare, Lindy saw the mess on the floor. And realized why the refrigerator was empty.

  Everything inside it had been pulled out and dumped on the kitchen floor. An orange juice bottle lay on its side in a puddle of orange juice. Eggs were scattered everywhere. Fruits and vegetables were strewn over the floor.

  “Oh!” Lindy moaned in utter disbelief.

  Everything seemed to sparkle and gleam.

  What was all that shiny stuff among the food?

  Kris’s jewelry!

  There were earrings and bracelets and strands of beads tossed everywhere, mixed with the spilled, strewn food like some kind of bizarre salad.

  “Oh, no!” Lindy shrieked as her eyes came to rest on the figure on the floor.

  Sitting upright in the middle of the mess was Mr. Wood, grinning gleefully at her. He had several strands of beads around his neck, long dangling earrings hanging from his ears, and a platter of leftover chicken on his lap.

  13

  “Kris, are you okay?” Lindy cried, turning her eyes away from the grinning, jewelry-covered dummy.

  Kris didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Are you okay?” Lindy repeated the question.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Kris stammered, her back pressed against the wall, her expression taut with terror. “Who — who did this? Did Mr. Wood —?”

  Lindy started to reply. But their mother’s howl of surprise from the doorway cut off her words. “Mom —” Lindy cried, spinning around.

  Mrs. Powell clicked on the ceiling light. The kitchen seemed to flare up. All three of them blinked, struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness.

  “What on earth!” Mrs. Powell cried. She started to call her husband, then remembered he wasn’t home. “I — I don’t believe this!”

  Barky came bounding into the room, his tail wagging. He lowered his head and started to lick up some spilled milk.

  “Out you go,” Mrs. Powell said sternly. She picked up the dog, carried him out, and closed the kitchen door. Then she strode into the center of the room, shaking her head, her bare feet narrowly missing the puddle of milk.

  “I came down for a drink, and I — I found this mess,” Kris said in a trembling voice. “The food. My jewelry. Everything …”

  “Mr. Wood did it,” Lindy accused. “Look at him!”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Mrs. Powell screamed. “I’ve had enough.”

  Mrs. Powell surveyed the mess, frowning and tugging at a strand of blond hair. Her eyes stopped on Mr. Wood, and she uttered a groan of disgust.

  “I knew it,” she said in a low voice, raising her eyes accusingly to the two girls. “I knew this had something to do with those ventriloquist dummies.”

  “Mr. Wood did it, Mom,” Kris said heatedly, stepping away from the wall, her hands tensed into fists. “I know it sounds dumb, but —”

  “Stop it,” Mrs. Powell ordered, narrowing her eyes. “This is just sick. Sick!” She stared hard at the jewel-bedecked dummy, who grinned up at her over the big platter of chicken.

  “I’m going to take the dummies away from you both,” Mrs. Powell said, turning back to Lindy and Kris. “This whole thing has just gotten out of control.”

  “No!” Kris cried.

  “That’s not fair!” Lindy declared.

  “I’m sorry. They have to be put away,” Mrs. Powell said firmly. She let her eyes move over the cluttered floor and let out another weary sigh. “Look at my kitchen.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!” Lindy screamed.

  “I need Mr. Wood for the spring concert!” Kris protested. “Everyone is counting on me, Mom.”

  Mrs. Powell glanced from one to the other. Her eyes stayed on Kris. “That’s your dummy on the floor, right?”

  “Yeah,” Kris told her. “But I didn’t do this. I swear! “

  “You both swear you didn’t do it, right?” Mrs. Powell said, suddenly looking very tired under the harsh ceiling light.

  “Yes,” Lindy answered quickly.

  “Then you both lose your dummies. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Powell said. “One of you is lying. I — I really can’t believe this.”

  A heavy silence blanketed the room as all three Powells stared down in dismay at the mess on the floor.

  Kris was the first to speak. “Mom, what if Lindy and I clean everything up?”

  Lindy caught on quickly. Her face brightened. “Yeah. What if we put everything back? Right now. Make the kitchen just like normal. Make it spotless. Can we keep our dummies?”

  Mrs. Powell shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Look at this mess. All the vegetables are spoiled. And the milk.”

  “We’ll replace it all,” Kris said quickly. “With our allowance. And we’ll clean it up perfectly. Please. If we do that, give us one more chance?”

  Mrs. Powell twisted her face in concentration, debating with herself. She stared at her daughters’ eager faces. “Okay,” she replied finally. “I want the kitchen spotless when I come down in the morning. All the food, all the jewelry. Everything back where it goes.”

  “Okay,” both girls said in unison.

  “And I don’t want to see either of those dummies down here in my kitchen again,” Mrs. Powell demanded. “If you can do that, I’ll give you one more chance.”

  “Great!” both girls cried at once.

  “And I don’t want to hear any more arguments about those dummies,” Mrs. Powell continued. “No more fights. No more competing. No more blaming everything on the dummies. I don’t want to hear anything about them. Ever.”

  “You won’t,” Kris promised, glancing at her sister.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Lindy said. “You go to bed. We’ll clean up.” She gave her mother a gentle shove toward the doorway.

  “Not another word,” Mrs. Powell reminded them.

  “Right, Mom,” the twins agreed.

  Their mother disappeared toward her room. They began to clean up. Kris pulled a large garbage bag from the drawer and held it open while Lindy tossed in empty cartons and spoiled food.

  Kris carefully collected her jewelry and carried it upstairs.

  Neither girl spoke. They worked in silence, picking up, scrubbing, and mopping until the kitchen was clean. Lindy closed the refrigerator door. She yawned loudly.

  Kris inspected the floor on her hands and knees, making sure it was spotless. Then she picked up Mr. Wood. He grinned back at her as if it was all a big joke.

  This dummy has been nothing but trouble, Kris thought.

  Nothing but trouble.

  She followed Lindy out of the kitchen, clicking off the light as she left. The two girls climbed the stairs silently. Neither of them had spoken a word.

  Pale moonlight filtered into their room through the open window. The air felt hot and steamy.

  Kris glanced at the clock. It was a little past three in the morning.

  Slappy sat slumped in the chair in front of the window, moonlight shining on his grinning face. Lindy, yawning, climbed into bed, pushed down the blanket, and pulled up the sheet. She turned her face away from her sister.

  Kris lowered Mr. Wood from her shoulder. You’re nothing but trouble, she thought angrily, holding him in front of her and staring at his grinning face.

  Nothing but trouble.

  Mr. Wood’s wide, leering grin seemed to mock her.

  A chill of fear mixed with her anger. I’m beginning to hate this dummy, she thought.

  Fear him and hate him.

  Angrily, she pulled open the closet door and tossed the dummy into the closet. It fell in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  Kris slammed the closet door shut.

  Her heart thudding, she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. She suddenly felt very tired. Her entire body ached from weariness.

  She buried her face in the pillow and shut her eyes.

  She had just about fallen asleep when she heard the tiny voice.

  “Let me out! Let me out of here!” it cried.
A muffled voice, coming from inside the closet.

  14

  “Let me out! Let me out!” the high-pitched voice called angrily.

  Kris sat up with a jolt. Her entire body convulsed in a shudder of fear.

  Her eyes darted to the other bed. Lindy hadn’t moved.

  “Did — did you hear it?” Kris stammered.

  “Hear what?” Lindy asked sleepily.

  “The voice,” Kris whispered. “In the closet.”

  “Huh?” Lindy asked sleepily. “What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning. Can’t we get some sleep?”

  “But, Lindy —” Kris lowered her feet to the floor. Her heart was thudding in her chest. “Wake up. Listen to me! Mr. Wood was calling to me. He was talking!”

  Lindy raised her head and listened.

  Silence.

  “I don’t hear anything, Kris. Really. Maybe you were dreaming.”

  “No!” Kris shrieked, feeling herself lose control. “It wasn’t a dream! I’m so scared, Lindy. I’m just so scared!”

  Suddenly, Kris was trembling all over, and hot tears were pouring down her cheeks.

  Lindy stood up and moved to the edge of her sister’s bed.

  “Something h-horrible is going on here, Lindy,” Kris stammered through her tears.

  “And I know who’s doing it,” Lindy whispered, leaning over her twin, putting a comforting hand on her quivering shoulder. “Huh?”

  “Yes. I know who’s been doing it all,” Lindy whispered. “I know who it is.”

  “Who?” Kris asked breathlessly.

  15

  “Who?” Kris repeated, letting the tears run down her cheeks. “Who?”

  “I have,” Lindy said. Her smile spread into a grin almost as wide as Slappy’s. She closed her eyes and laughed.

  “Huh?” Kris didn’t understand. “What did you say?”

  “I said I have been doing it,” Lindy repeated. “Me. Lindy. It was all a joke, Kris. I gotcha again.” She nodded as if confirming her words.

  Kris gaped at her twin in disbelief. “It was all a joke?”

  Lindy kept nodding.

  “You moved Mr. Wood during the night? You dressed him in my clothes and made him say those gross things to me? You put him in the kitchen? You made that horrible mess?”

  Lindy chuckled. “Yeah. I really scared you, didn’t I?”

  Kris balled her hands into angry fists. “But — but —” she sputtered. “Why? “

  “For fun,” Lindy replied, dropping back onto her bed, still grinning. “Fun?”

  “I wanted to see if I could scare you,” Lindy explained. “It was just a joke. You know. I can’t believe you fell for that voice in the closet just now! I must be a really good ventriloquist!”

  “But, Lindy —”

  “You really believed Mr. Wood was alive or something!” Lindy said, laughing, enjoying her victory. “You’re such a nit!” “Nit?”

  “Half a nitwit!” Lindy burst into wild laughter.

  “It isn’t funny,” Kris said softly.

  “I know,” Lindy replied. “It’s a riot! You should’ve seen the look on your face when you saw Mr. Wood downstairs in your precious beads and earrings!”

  “How — how did you ever think of such a mean joke?” Kris demanded.

  “It just came to me,” Lindy answered with some pride. “When you got your dummy.”

  “You didn’t want me to get a dummy,” Kris said thoughtfully.

  “You’re right,” Lindy quickly agreed. “I wanted something that would be mine for a change. I’m so tired of you being a copycat. So —”

  “So you thought of this mean joke,” Kris accused.

  Lindy nodded.

  Kris strode angrily to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass. “I — I can’t believe I was so stupid,” she muttered.

  “Neither can I,” Lindy agreed, grinning again.

  “You really made me start thinking that Mr. Wood was alive or something,” Kris said, staring out the window to the backyard below. “You really made me afraid of him.”

  “Aren’t I brilliant!” Lindy proclaimed.

  Kris turned to face her sister. “I’m never speaking to you again,” she said angrily.

  Lindy shrugged. “It was just a joke.”

  “No,” Kris insisted. “It was too mean to be just a joke. I’m never speaking to you again. Never.”

  “Fine,” Lindy replied curtly. “I thought you had a sense of humor. Fine.” She slid into bed, her back to Kris, and pulled the covers up over her head.

  I’ve got to find a way to pay her back for this, Kris thought. But how?

  16

  After school a few days later, Kris walked home with Cody. It was a hot, humid afternoon. The trees were still and seemed to throw little shade on the sidewalk. The air above the pavement shimmered in the heat.

  “Wish we had a swimming pool,” Kris muttered, pulling her backpack off her shoulder.

  “I wish you had one, too,” Cody said, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his red T-shirt.

  “I’d like to dive into an enormous pool of iced tea,” Kris said, “like in the TV commercials. It always looks so cold and refreshing.”

  Cody made a face. “Swim in iced tea? With ice cubes and lemon?”

  “Forget it,” Kris muttered.

  They crossed the street. A couple of kids they knew rode by on their bikes. Two men in white uniforms were up on ladders, leaning against the corner house, painting the gutters.

  “Bet they’re hot,” Cody remarked.

  “Let’s change the subject,” Kris suggested.

  “How are you doing with Mr. Wood?” Cody asked.

  “Not bad,” Kris said. “I think I’ve got some pretty good jokes. I should be ready for the concert tomorrow night.”

  They stopped at the corner and let a large blue van rumble past.

  “Are you talking to your sister?” Cody asked as they crossed the street. The bright sunlight made his white-blond hair glow.

  “A little,” Kris said, making a face. “I’m talking to her. But I haven’t forgiven her.”

  “That was such a dumb stunt she pulled,” Cody said sympathetically. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  “It just made me feel like such a dork,” Kris admitted. “I mean, I was so stupid. She really had me believing that Mr. Wood was doing all that stuff.” Kris shook her head. Thinking about it made her feel embarrassed all over again.

  Her house came into view. She unzipped the back compartment of her backpack and searched for the keys.

  “Did you tell your mom about Lindy’s practical joke?” Cody asked.

  Kris shook her head. “Mom is totally disgusted. We’re not allowed to mention the dummies to her. Dad got home from Portland last night, and Mom told him what was going on. So we’re not allowed to mention the dummies to him, either!” She found the keys and started up the drive. “Thanks for walking home with me.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Cody gave her a little wave and continued on toward his house up the street.

  Kris pushed the key into the front door lock. She could hear Barky jumping and yipping excitedly on the other side of the door. “I’m coming, Barky,” she called in. “Hold your horses.”

  She pushed open the door. Barky began leaping on her, whimpering as if she’d been away for months. “Okay, okay!” she cried, laughing.

  It took several minutes to calm the dog down. Then Kris got a snack from the kitchen and headed up to her room to practice with Mr. Wood.

  She hoisted the dummy up from the chair, where it had spent the day beside Lindy’s dummy. A can of Coke in one hand, the dummy over her shoulder, she headed to the dressing table and sat down in front of the mirror.

  This was the best time of day to rehearse, Kris thought. No one was home. Her parents were at work. Lindy was at some after-school activity.

  She arranged Mr. Wood on her lap. “Time to go to work,” she mad
e him say, reaching into his back to move his lips. She made his eyes slide back and forth.

  A button on his plaid shirt had come unbuttoned. Kris leaned him down against the dressing table and started to fasten it.

  Something caught her eye. Something yellow inside the pocket.

  “Weird,” Kris said aloud. “I never noticed anything in there.”

  Slipping two fingers into the slender pocket, she pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper, folded up.

  Probably just the receipt for him, Kris thought.

  She unfolded the sheet of paper and held it up to read it.

  It wasn’t a receipt. The paper contained a single sentence handwritten very cleanly in bold black ink. It was in a language Kris didn’t recognize.

  “Did someone send you a love note, Mr. Wood?” she asked the dummy.

  It stared up at her lifelessly.

  Kris lowered her eyes to the paper and read the strange sentence out loud:

  “Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”

  What language is that? Kris wondered.

  She glanced down at the dummy and uttered a low cry of surprise.

  Mr. Wood appeared to blink.

  But that wasn’t possible — was it?

  Kris took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  The dummy stared up at her, his painted eyes as dull and wide open as ever.

  Let’s not get paranoid, Kris scolded herself.

  “Time to work, Mr. Wood,” she told him. She folded up the piece of yellow paper and slipped it back into his shirt pocket. Then she raised him to a sitting position, searching for the eye and mouth controls with her hand.

  “How are things around your house, Mr. Wood?”

  “Not good, Kris. I’ve got termites. I need termites like I need another hole in my head! Ha-ha!”

  “Lindy! Kris! Could you come downstairs, please?” Mr. Powell called from the foot of the stairs.

  It was after dinner, and the twins were up in their room. Lindy was sprawled on her stomach on the bed, reading a book for school. Kris was in front of the dressing table mirror, rehearsing quietly with Mr. Wood for tomorrow night’s concert.

  “What do you want, Dad?” Lindy shouted down, rolling her eyes.