Bride of the Living Dummy

  Contents

  Title Page

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  Teaser

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  “Jillian — what are you doing?”

  I heard my sister’s squeaky voice from my bedroom doorway. I dropped another dead fly into the glass cage. Petey’s pointed pink tongue shot out and lapped it up.

  “Mmmmm. Juicy fly meat,” I murmured to him. “Nice and rare.”

  “What are you doing?” Katie repeated.

  I turned to the door. “I’m practicing the violin,” I told her.

  Katie made a disgusted face. “No, you’re not. You’re feeding that lizard.”

  “Duh,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I held up a dead fly. “Want a snack? Yum, yum.”

  “That lizard is gross,” she moaned.

  “I like him,” I insisted. I reached into the cage and tickled Petey under his flat, leathery chin. “It’s late. Why are you still up?” I asked my sister.

  She yawned. “I’m not tired,” she replied.

  Amanda, Katie’s twin, stepped into the room. “I’m not tired, either,” she declared. “And neither is Mary-Ellen. Mary-Ellen wants us to stay up till midnight!”

  I groaned. “Get Mary-Ellen out of my room, please,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Mary-Ellen can go wherever she wants!” Amanda insisted.

  “Mary-Ellen doesn’t like you, Jillian,” Katie added with a sneer. “She hates you and she hates your lizard!”

  “Well, I hate Mary-Ellen!” I cried. “Get her out of my room!”

  I know, I know. I was being as babyish as my six-year-old sisters. But I can’t help it. I really do hate Mary-Ellen.

  Ever since Dad brought Mary-Ellen home, life here at the Zinman house has been difficult.

  Mary-Ellen is a huge doll, almost as tall as the twins. She has frizzy brown hair made out of mop yarn. A red, heart-shaped mouth twisted up in a sick grin. Strange violet-colored glass eyes. And ugly bloodred circles painted on her round cheeks.

  The doll is a horror — but the girls treat her as a third sister. They dress up the doll in their clothes. They talk to her. They sing to her. They pretend to feed her. And they drag her everywhere they go.

  They are much nicer to Mary-Ellen than they are to me. At night, I plan horrible things I’m going to do to that disgusting doll.

  Amanda slung the big doll over her shoulder. “Mary-Ellen says we can stay up till midnight,” she told me.

  I slipped another juicy fly into Petey’s open mouth. “I don’t think Mom and Dad care what a big, ugly doll says,” I replied.

  The girls turned and started to leave. “You’ll be sorry,” Katie warned me. “You’ll be sorry you were mean to Mary-Ellen.”

  “Mary-Ellen says you’ll be sorry,” Amanda added. The doll’s big head bounced on her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

  I slammed the door shut and let out a long sigh. Why do six-year-olds have to be so annoying?

  I finished feeding Petey. Then I called a few friends and talked for a while, trying to make plans for the weekend.

  I fell asleep around eleven thirty. I dreamed about my friend Harrison Cohen. I dreamed that he and I could fly. We were flying over our school, and all our friends were amazed.

  A sharp CLICK pulled me from my dream.

  I woke up with a startled gasp. And squinted into the darkness of my room.

  I heard another metallic CLICK. And then a sharp scraping sound.

  A silvery blade flashed in the darkness.

  Huh? A blade?

  What’s going on? I wondered.

  I tried to move. Too late.

  The blade swooped down to my throat — and I started to scream.

  I shot out both hands. I tried to grab the blade. Push it away.

  I heard a soft giggle.

  The night table light flickered on.

  “Huh?” I let out a shocked cry as I stared at my sisters’ grinning faces.

  Katie held a pair of long metal scissors in her hand. Her smile faded. “You ruined our surprise,” she moaned.

  “Huh? Surprise?” My heart pounded in my chest. “What are you doing in here?” I cried breathlessly.

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Katie replied. “We wanted to give you a haircut.”

  My mouth dropped open — but no sound came out. I was too horrified to speak.

  “A haircut?” I finally choked out. “A haircut?”

  “Why did you have to wake up?” Amanda cried. “You ruined everything!”

  “I — I’ll ruin you!” I cried. With a furious shriek, I grabbed the scissors from Katie’s hand.

  The girls are always playing mean tricks on me. But never anything as horrible as this. “Whatever gave you the idea — ?” I sputtered.

  “Mary-Ellen said you need a haircut,” Katie replied, tugging my hair. “It was Mary-Ellen’s idea.”

  I angrily shoved her hand away. “Get … out … of … my … room,” I said through gritted teeth. “I will pay you back for this. I promise I will pay you back.”

  They both sighed and turned to leave.

  “Know what I’m going to do?” I called after them. “I’m going to give Mary-Ellen a haircut. I’m going to cut off her head!”

  “Mary-Ellen heard that,” Katie replied.

  “You’ll be sorry,” Amanda added.

  They slipped back to their room down the hall. It took me hours to get back to sleep. “Maybe I will cut the doll’s head off,” I told myself. “It certainly would improve her looks….”

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, I was up in my room, waiting for my friend Harrison to show up. Bright sunlight streamed in through the open window. A pretty fall day.

  “Jillian — it’s time to go!” I heard Amanda call from out in the hall.

  “Yes! Time to go! Time to go!” Katie and Amanda began to chant. “Time to go! Time to go!”

  Why do six-year-olds like to chant everything?

  “Hey — give me a break!” I held my hands over my ears.

  I ignored their cries and gazed into the mirror. I have straight black hair and round green eyes. I’m tall and very thin. I’m the tallest girl in the sixth grade. Sometimes Dad calls me Noodle because I’m so thin and straight.

  Guess how much I like that.

  The twins are tall and thin and dark-haired too. Katie pulls her hair back in a ponytail. Amanda usually lets her hair hang over her shoulders.

  But I still have trouble telling them apart. Until they talk. Katie is the one with the squeaky voice. She is the wild one. She is always wired!

  Amanda is usually a lot cooler, a lot calmer, a lot quieter, and more thoughtful.

  Except for now. They were both tugging at me, pulling me to the door, chanting, “Time to go! Time to go!”

  “Go where?” I cried.

  Mom swept into the room, carrying a pile of clean T-shirts. She set them down on my bed, then made a face at Petey. She hates him too. “Jillian, did you forget about taking your sisters to the Little Theater?” she demanded.

  “Oh, no!” I wailed. “I did forget!”

  Weeks ago, I’d promised the twins I
’d take them to see the ventriloquist show at the Saturday matinee.

  “You have to take us!” Katie squeaked. She tugged my arm so hard, my shoulder cracked.

  “You have to!” Amanda repeated.

  “But I’m meeting Harrison,” I protested to Mom. Harrison lives down the block. We’ve been best friends ever since I made him eat a whole bowl of mud in first grade.

  That was five years ago. So far, Harrison hasn’t done anything to pay me back. I think he’s waiting for the right moment.

  Mom squinted hard at me. Her no-nonsense look. “You promised them, and you are taking them — now!” she ordered.

  The twins exploded in a deafening cheer.

  “Take Harrison with you,” Mom added. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy the show.”

  Yeah. For sure. About as much as eating mud.

  Mom squinted at me even harder. “Jillian, you want to make money entertaining kids at birthday parties — right?”

  “Right,” I replied.

  “So maybe you’ll get some good ideas at this show,” Mom said.

  I groaned. “Mom — I want to be a clown. Not a dumb ventriloquist.”

  Mom leaned close to me. “You promised them,” she whispered.

  “Okay, okay. We’re going,” I said.

  The twins cheered again.

  “Actually, Harrison likes this kind of stuff,” I added. “He’ll probably think the show is awesome.”

  “If Harrison is coming, then Mary-Ellen has to come too!” Katie cried.

  “Yes!” Amanda agreed. “Mary-Ellen wants to see the ventriloquist.”

  “No way!” I protested. “No way I’m bringing that big, ugly monster!”

  Amanda disappeared across the hall into the room she and Katie share. A few seconds later, she was back, dragging the big doll. “Mary-Ellen says she has to come with us!”

  “But — but — ” I sputtered. “She’s too big. I’ll have to buy a ticket for her. She will have to have her own seat!”

  “I’ll hold her in my lap!” Katie cried.

  “No. I’ll hold her!” Amanda insisted.

  “I’m not taking her,” I insisted. I glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Put the doll down and let’s go,” I said. I picked up my bag.

  Amanda didn’t move. She hugged the big doll. “I’m not going unless Mary-Ellen goes too!”

  “I’m not going, either,” Katie croaked in her scratchy voice.

  “Okay, okay,” I sighed. I could see that I wasn’t going to win this argument. “You can bring the doll.”

  They both cheered. They love winning. And since they are spoiled brats and almost always win, they have a lot of practice cheering.

  A deafening sound — a shrill whine — blared through the room. “What is that?” I cried.

  “You know. It’s your dad,” Mom replied.

  Another shrill whine made me cover my ears.

  “He’s down in his workshop.” Mom sighed. “Still sawing away at that coffee table.”

  “He’s been building that table for six months,” I said.

  “I’m sure it will be beautiful when it’s finished.” Mom glanced at the clock. “You’re really going to be late.”

  “Come on, you two,” I said. “Let’s go see this show.”

  “Mary-Ellen too!” Katie reminded me.

  “I know. I know,” I groaned.

  She swung the big doll around. Her heavy plastic hand slapped me in the face. “Hey — !” I cried out angrily.

  “Mary-Ellen did it. Not me!” Katie insisted. She stuck out her tongue at me.

  Harrison was just walking up the driveway. He’s very big. Very biiig. Big head, big chest, big, muscular arms and legs. He has a round face, dark, serious eyes, and short dark hair.

  “What’s up?” he called.

  “We’re going to a ventriloquist show,” I told him. “All of us.”

  “Cool,” he replied.

  I knew he’d like it.

  I thought I’d be bored to tears.

  And I was right about that. But here’s what I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know this show would ruin our lives.

  “When does it start? When does it start?” The twins bounced in their seats. Mary-Ellen bounced on Katie’s lap. She swung to the side, and I got a mouthful of frizzy doll hair.

  We had great seats in the center of the third row. I gazed around. The Little Theater used to be an old movie theater. Now it’s used mainly for kids’ plays.

  The wide stage rose above us with its faded red curtain. The old theater had two balconies in the back. But now they’re closed off. The rest of the seats are either torn or broken. But the kids didn’t seem to mind.

  Hundreds of little kids jammed the theater. They were all shouting and bouncing up and down, like Katie and Amanda, eager for the show to start.

  A few rows behind us, a little red-haired girl was crying her eyes out. A boy in a bright yellow sweater was being dragged up the aisle by his mother. She had a handkerchief pressed against his nose, trying to stop a nosebleed.

  I turned to Harrison. “Wow. Fun, huh?” I said, rolling my eyes.

  He grinned at me. “I think ventriloquists are cool.”

  Harrison is a weird guy. He never complains. He thinks everything is cool.

  Sometimes I think he’s from the moon.

  I felt something bounce off my neck. I spun around. The twins were throwing popcorn at each other. “You’re wasting all your popcorn,” I told them.

  “Mary-Ellen wants her own bag,” Katie insisted. “Go buy a bag for Mary-Ellen.”

  “No way,” I replied. “You can share with her.”

  “When does the show start? I’m bored,” Amanda whined.

  “Mary-Ellen is bored too,” Katie added.

  I ignored them and turned to Harrison. “Remember about next Saturday night?” I asked him.

  He squinted his round dark eyes at me. “Huh?”

  “Hel-lo!” I knocked on his head. “Anyone in there? We talked about it a hundred times, remember? How you’re going to help me entertain at the birthday party?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He scratched his short hair. “We’re clowns, right?”

  “We have to practice our act,” I told him. “I want to be really funny. It’s my first job. And Mrs. Henly is paying me thirty dollars.”

  “Paying us thirty dollars,” Harrison corrected me.

  “We don’t have enough popcorn!” Katie interrupted. “Mary-Ellen needs her own bag. Go get it, Jillian. Hurry!” She pushed the big doll in my face.

  I couldn’t take anymore. I lost it.

  “Get that ugly thing away from me!” I shrieked. I slapped Mary-Ellen across the face. The doll’s head snapped back.

  Startled, Katie pulled the doll down into her lap. She sneered at me and stuck out her tongue.

  Music blared from the loudspeakers. “Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen!” a deep voice boomed. “Please welcome Jimmy O’James and his good friend Slappy!”

  The music swelled, and the kids all clapped and cheered. Grinning and bowing, the ventriloquist walked out in front of the red curtain, carrying his dummy on his arm.

  Jimmy O’James dropped down on the tall stool in the center of the stage. He was young. He didn’t look much older than the teenage babysitters we get for the twins.

  Big and broad-shouldered, he wore a black turtleneck sweater over black pants. He had short brown hair, and a big smile that appeared to be frozen on his face. He never stopped smiling!

  Slappy, the dummy, also had a smile that didn’t quit. His round blue eyes slid rapidly from side to side, as if he was checking out the audience.

  Slappy had a wave of brown hair that stood straight up on his head. He was dressed in a dark gray sports jacket and a white shirt with a red bow tie. He had baggy gray slacks and black shoes, very big and very shiny.

  I glanced at the twins. They were sitting up alertly, silent at last, staring up at the stage. Mary-Ellen was perched on Kat
ie’s lap.

  “Hello, everyone,” the ventriloquist began. “I want you to meet my friend Slappy.”

  Slappy’s red-painted mouth slid up and down. “Are we friends?” he asked. He had a shrill, little-boy voice. “Are we really friends, Jimmy?”

  “Of course we are,” the ventriloquist replied. “You and I are best friends, Slappy.”

  “Then would you do a best friend a favor?” Slappy asked sweetly.

  “Of course,” Jimmy replied. “What favor?”

  “Could you take your hand out of my back?” Slappy growled.

  The kids in the audience laughed. I saw Harrison laughing too.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jimmy said. “You see, you and I are very close friends.”

  Slappy tilted his head. “Very close friends? How close? Can you give me a kiss?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jimmy replied.

  “Why not?” Slappy demanded in a tiny voice.

  “I don’t want to get splinters!” Jimmy declared.

  The kids all laughed. Katie and Amanda thought that was very funny.

  Suddenly, Slappy’s voice changed. “You don’t want to kiss me? Well, I don’t want to kiss you, either. Here’s a riddle for you, Jimmy,” he growled. His voice came out gruff and hoarse. “What’s the difference between a skunk and your breath?”

  “I — I don’t know,” Jimmy stammered.

  “I don’t know, either!” Slappy barked.

  The kids in the audience laughed. But I saw Jimmy’s smile fade. From our third-row seats, I could see beads of sweat form on his forehead.

  “Slappy — be nice,” he scolded. “You promised me you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Here’s another riddle for you, Jimmy,” the dummy growled.

  “No, please. No more riddles,” the ventriloquist pleaded. He suddenly looked really upset. I knew it was all an act. But why was Jimmy O’James pretending to be so nervous?

  “What do your face and a plate of creamed corn have in common?” Slappy asked.

  “I — I don’t like this riddle,” Jimmy protested. He forced his smile back. He turned to the audience. “Hey, kids — tell Slappy — ”

  “What do your face and a plate of creamed corn have in common?” Slappy rasped.

  The ventriloquist sighed. “I don’t know. What?”

  “They both look like vomit!” Slappy screamed.

  Everyone laughed.