Slappy New Year! Read online

  Brandon, in his red flannel pajamas, his dark hair down over his face. His mouth twisted in a determined frown.

  Brandon holding the dummy tightly, trying to sneak it out of my room.

  “You —” I choked out. I swung the dummy’s shoe away from me. I untangled myself from the bedsheet and moved to block Brandon’s path.

  “You — you —” I stammered. “What are you doing in here, Brandon? Why did you take Slappy from the closet?”

  He didn’t have to reply. All at once, I knew the answers. All at once — mystery solved.

  I grabbed my brother’s pajama sleeve. “You did everything — didn’t you?” I said.

  He took a step back. He swung the dummy onto his shoulder. Behind him, the window rattled and puffs of blowing snow slid down the glass.

  I didn’t let go of Brandon’s sleeve. “You wrecked your own wrapping paper, right?” I said. “You trashed your own room? You put Slappy there to make it look like I did it.”

  Brandon kept his eyes on the floor. He didn’t look at me. I saw his big shoulders heave as he let out a sigh.

  “Well?” I demanded.

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t move his eyes from the floor.

  “The whole maple syrup thing,” I said. “That was you, too — wasn’t it!”

  I squeezed his arm hard. “Wasn’t it!” I repeated angrily.

  “Okay, okay,” he said finally. He pulled his arm away from me. He stuck his chin out as if challenging me. “Okay, okay. You got me.”

  “But — why?” I said. “Why, Brandon? I don’t get it. Why did you do all this crazy stuff?”

  He stared hard at me. “I just wanted to get the dummy out of the house,” he said. “I wanted Mom and Dad to make you get rid of it.”

  “Huh?” I cried. “You’re so scared of it?”

  He didn’t answer. “You — you just want to scare me all the time,” he stammered. “That’s why you bought this dummy. So I wanted Mom and Dad to make you get rid of it.”

  “But, Brandon —” I started.

  His shoulders heaved up and down. “You made fun of me. In front of Elena,” he said. “And she laughed at me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But —”

  “I wanted to pay you back,” Brandon said, his voice trembling. “I wanted to get you in major trouble. So maybe next time …”

  “You’re sick,” I said. “You’re totally sick. Trashing your own room to get me in trouble? That’s sick.”

  He dropped the dummy onto the edge of my bed. “Okay, okay. You’re right,” he said. “I was mad. I didn’t think it out. I —”

  “Sick,” I repeated.

  “Please don’t tell,” he said. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ray. I guess I was just scared. Don’t tell Mom and Dad it was me — okay?”

  I stared at him. My heart was still racing in my chest. I gazed at Slappy, sprawled facedown on my bed.

  “Please?” Brandon begged in a tiny voice. “I’ll never do anything stupid like that again. I swear.”

  I stared at him. I had to admit I was impressed that the big scaredy-cat had come up with such a bold plan. “Okay, okay,” I muttered. “I won’t tell on you.”

  He let out a long, shuddering sigh.

  “I won’t tell on you, but I’m going to do something even scarier,” I said.

  Brandon gasped. “Like what?”

  “I’m going to bring Slappy to life for real!” I said.

  “No, please —” Brandon grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it. “Please. Don’t do it, Ray.” His eyes bulged. He was really scared.

  I didn’t care. “Beg all you want,” I said. “You did some sick, crazy things to get me in trouble. Now you have to pay.”

  He clasped his hands together like he was begging.

  I grabbed Slappy and rolled him onto his back. His eyes gazed blankly up at the ceiling.

  I pulled the sheet of paper from the jacket pocket. Unfolded it quickly. And I shouted out the strange words:

  “ ‘KARRU MARRI ODONNA LOMA MOLONU KARRANO.’ ”

  “Now, watch,” I said.

  Nothing happened.

  Brandon and I froze. Brandon’s mouth hung open. I held my breath.

  We both stared hard at the dummy. The strange words repeated in my ears.

  I imagined Slappy twitching to life. The skinny arms and legs sliding against the bedspread. The painted grin growing wider. The glassy eyes blinking.

  It would be amazing!

  But no.

  The dummy didn’t move.

  Of course not. Crazy things like that don’t happen in real life.

  Brandon’s laugh broke the heavy silence. “It’s just a joke!” he exclaimed.

  He grabbed the paper from my hand and glanced at the words. Then he balled the paper up in his hands and tossed it to the floor.

  “It’s a dumb joke, Ray,” he said. “And you fell for it.” He picked the dummy up and shook it in my face. “You fell for it,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “Who’s the dummy? Who’s the real dummy, Ray?”

  “Go back to bed,” I said angrily. “Or else I’ll tell Mom and Dad what you did.”

  “No problem,” Brandon said. He tossed the dummy at me. The wooden head clonked my forehead. The dummy fell into my lap.

  “I’m not even scared of that thing anymore,” Brandon said. He stomped back to his room.

  I rubbed my forehead. Then I picked the paper off the floor, folded it, and stuffed it back into the dummy’s jacket pocket.

  I carried Slappy to the closet and shoved him behind a pile of dirty clothes. I closed the closet door behind me and crept back to bed.

  The Slappy mystery was solved. I breathed a long sigh. No more problems with the dummy …

  Wrong again, Ray. Wrong again.

  * * *

  “Where’s my ribbon? I can’t find the ribbon!” Mom shouted from the dining room.

  Dad, Brandon, and I were in the kitchen. We were stuffing presents into shopping bags. “I think you used it all,” Dad called to her. “Why do you need ribbon?”

  “I have one more package to wrap!” Mom shouted. “Oh. Here it is. I was sitting on it.”

  We were already late to Elena’s house. Every Christmas, there’s a mad scramble to get all the presents together.

  Elena’s parents like to give a ton of presents. Mom never wants to be outdone. So we give piles of presents, too. It’s a lot of fun, and they take hours to unwrap.

  There are four of us — and five in the Shear family because Elena has twin brothers, Dustin and Justin, who are fourteen. Dad always says if we pile up all the presents, we could open a store.

  Dad has a hard time with so many presents. He was very poor when he was a kid. He told us that one year for Christmas, his parents gave him a box of pretzels. His only gift. He thinks we should be happy with a box of pretzels.

  Mom tells him to “get over himself.”

  She came into the kitchen, already in her coat. She dropped the last glittery present into a shopping bag.

  “Four full bags this year,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Think it’s enough?”

  Mom pinched his nose. “Don’t be a Grinch. Let’s go. We’re late. We were supposed to be there at seven-thirty.”

  I pulled on my parka and slid the hood over my head. Brandon struggled to zip his down coat. The zipper always gets stuck.

  We each carried a bulging bag outside. It had snowed for most of the afternoon, and the front yard was covered with three or four inches. A bright half moon made the snow gleam like diamonds.

  The snow made nice crunchy sounds as we walked down the driveway. Elena’s house is only two blocks away. No one had shoveled the walks. The street, the sidewalks, all the front yards were covered in sparkly white.

  Mom and Dad always walk fast. I had to jog to keep up with them. I heard Brandon’s heavy, crunching footsteps behind me.

  Elena’s house was brightly lit. Mr. Shear had strung pale blue ligh
ts in the tall evergreen shrubs on both sides of the front stoop. A big wreath hung in the front window.

  We stamped our boots on the front stoop. I rang the doorbell. I could hear voices inside and loud music.

  The door swung open. Elena poked her head out. She had a red-and-green Christmas ribbon in her hair. “Hey — you’re here!” she cried. “Merry Christmas!”

  We all started talking at once.

  Elena stepped back to let us in. But then she stopped. Her eyes went wide as she stared past Brandon.

  “Ray, you brought your dummy!” she cried.

  “Huh?” I blinked. I spun around.

  Slappy sat behind me on the stoop, facing me, his lips twisted in an ugly grin.

  “Ray — why did you bring that thing?” Mom cried.

  “But I didn’t —” I started.

  I turned to Brandon. He had a frightened look on his face. But I knew the truth.

  “You did it!” I cried. “You brought the dummy.”

  He shook his head. His dark hair fell over one eye. “No way!”

  “I thought we were done with the dummy thing,” I shouted. “Remember?” I tried to bump Brandon off the stoop with my chest. But the big hulk didn’t budge.

  “I didn’t bring it!” he whined. “I swear!”

  “What’s up, guys?” Mr. Shear poked his bald head out the door. “Why is everyone on the stoop? Am I missing something?”

  “The boys can’t stop arguing over that stupid doll,” Mom said.

  “I don’t know why they brought it,” Dad added. “They’re always fighting over it.”

  Then everyone started talking at once. We stepped into the house, arguing and bumping each other. I dragged Slappy in and set him on the floor next to the coat closet.

  The house was warm and bright and smelled of turkey roasting in the oven. We flung our coats onto the closet floor.

  Elena’s brother Justin (or maybe it was Dustin) picked up Slappy. He turned to me. “I heard about this,” he said. “Can you make him talk?”

  “Not really,” I told him.

  “Then why did you bring him?”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “Brandon did.”

  “Did not!” Brandon shouted.

  Justin made the dummy’s mouth move up and down. “Did not!” he made it say in a high mouse voice. He shoved the dummy into Elena’s face. “Did not! Did not!”

  Elena pushed the dummy away. “Give me a break, Justin.”

  “This thing is way weird,” Justin said. He handed it to his brother. But Dustin wasn’t interested. He set Slappy back on the floor.

  Mom and Dad carried the four bulging shopping bags to the Christmas tree in front of the fireplace. Presents were already piled high around the tree.

  Elena’s mom burst into the room. She wore a Christmas apron over a red top and green denim jeans. “It looks like Santa’s workshop around here!” she exclaimed.

  Mrs. Shear always looks as if she stepped out of a tornado. Her hair is always a frizzy mess. She has a feathery voice and talks really fast like she’s out of breath.

  She has a pointy nose and little black eyes that are always darting around the room. She’s like a fluttery bird. Elena doesn’t look anything like her.

  Mr. Shear has a kind, red face and a great smile. He has a big stomach that bounces in front of him when he walks fast. If he grew a white beard, he’d make a great Santa Claus.

  Mom and Dad have been friends with the Shears for at least twenty years. They are like part of the family.

  So the night was relaxed and fun. Lots of jokes and kidding around. A great dinner. Awesome Christmas presents.

  Except for the loser GO HOOSIERS T-shirt the Shears gave me that was two sizes too big for me. Maybe it was supposed to be a joke. I don’t even know what a Hoosier is!

  Anyway, after we opened all the presents, Mrs. Shear brought out about a dozen desserts. We all sat around the living room, eating and talking quietly and listening to the crackling logs in the fire.

  A great Christmas party.

  And then Slappy ruined it.

  “Ray, can you make this thing talk?” Mr. Shear held Slappy up by the arms.

  “No. Not really,” I murmured. I was sitting next to Elena on the couch. I could feel the warmth of the fireplace flames on my face.

  “Oh, go ahead.” He shoved the dummy into my lap. “Put on a show for us. That’s why you brought the thing, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t —” I started.

  “Yeah. Put on a show, Ray,” Dustin said. He said it like a dare. “Be funny. Let’s see you be funny.”

  “As funny as your face?” Slappy said.

  I gasped. I didn’t make him say that.

  The others laughed.

  “That’s pretty good, Ray,” Mr. Shear said. “It really looked like the dummy said that.”

  “How would YOU know, Fat Face?” Slappy exclaimed in his high, tinny voice. “Your I.Q. is lower than your BELT size!”

  Mr. Shear’s smile faded. “Hey, that’s not funny.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s funny, Jumbo,” Slappy rasped. “You trying to lift yourself out of a chair. It’s like the Goodyear BLIMP going up!”

  The dummy tossed back its head and let out a long, ugly laugh.

  “Ray — stop it!” Mom cried. “Why are you saying those awful things?”

  “Apologize to Daniel!” Dad said.

  “I’m sorry you’re such a fat, disgusting cow!” Slappy exclaimed.

  Mom and Dad both gasped. Mr. Shear’s face turned purple.

  Across the room, I saw Brandon studying me. He was trying to figure out what was going on.

  Elena scooted away from me on the couch. “Ray,” she whispered. “What are you trying to prove?”

  “I didn’t say those things!” I cried. “The dummy did! I swear it! The dummy did!”

  I tried to toss Slappy off my lap. But his legs tangled around my arms.

  The twins were the only ones laughing. Dad jumped up and started angrily across the room toward me. “Apologize,” he said. “Make the dummy apologize and say something nice.”

  “That was a great dinner,” Slappy said. “Remind me to throw up later.”

  Elena’s mom shook her head. “Why are you so rude tonight, Ray?”

  “Why are you so UGLY?” Slappy rasped.

  “I didn’t SAY that!” I cried. I jumped to my feet. I tried to hand Slappy to my dad. But I couldn’t untangle him from my arms.

  “Ray, stop,” Elena pleaded. “Stop saying those horrible things.”

  “It’s not as horrible as your BREATH!” Slappy screamed at her. “You smell like something I stepped in on the way over here!”

  Elena gasped and jumped to her feet. She balled her hands into tight fists. “Why are you being so stupid?”

  “You’re so stupid, you have to study up before you can BURP!”

  Mrs. Shear had her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Show is over,” she said. “We get the idea, Ray.”

  “Is it YOUR business, Bird Beak?” Slappy shouted. “Do you open cans with that nose? You’re so ugly, when you were born, the doctor slapped the WRONG end!”

  “Enough! Enough!” Mom cried, tearing at her hair.

  “But I’m not doing it!” I screamed. “You’ve got to believe me!”

  “Give me that dummy,” Dad growled. He reached out both hands for it.

  I tried to hand him over. My whole body was trembling. My heart pounded in my chest.

  I pushed the dummy toward my dad. And then I saw it happen like in slow motion….

  The dummy’s heavy wooden hand swung back. As if he was moving it on his own. The hand pulled back …

  … and then came flying forward.

  The dummy’s hand swung into my dad’s forehead.

  I heard a loud CLONK as he gave my dad a solid blow on the left temple.

  Dad’s eyes went wide. He let out a groan. His body folded up, and he slumped to the floor at my feet.
r />   Everyone screamed and cried out and went crazy.

  Mom dove to the floor beside Dad. The others huddled around them.

  I tried to toss Slappy away. But he swung his fist wildly again.

  I lost my balance and went stumbling across the room. The dummy tossed back his head and uttered his ugly laugh.

  I heard Dad groan from down on the floor. “What happened?” he asked.

  The dummy leaped from my hands. I let out a shocked gasp. Slappy was running on his flimsy legs. Running right at the Christmas tree.

  “No!” I screamed. I leaped at him. He dodged away from me.

  And I flew right into the tree.

  The tree swayed. Ornaments clattered and clinked.

  Slappy laughed as I fell into the tree. The clatter of glass became a crash.

  The tree toppled onto its side beneath me.

  Ornaments rolled across the carpet in all directions. Tree needles scratched my face. The strings of lights flickered out. I heard glass breaking.

  I struggled to untangle myself from the prickly branches. I heard screams and cries behind me.

  And when I finally tugged myself free and turned, everyone was staring in horror at me.

  Dad was sitting on the carpet. Mom was hugging Brandon. The twins stood frozen, not moving a muscle. Elena had her hands to her face, her eyes shut tight.

  “I — I didn’t do it,” I stammered. “The dummy …”

  I glanced around the room until I spotted Slappy. He was sprawled lifelessly on his stomach, facedown on the carpet. His arms and legs were tangled beneath the trunk of his body.

  “I … was trying to stop him,” I said. “He came to life. Really. He —”

  I sighed. I could see that no one believed me.

  “I shouldn’t have read the strange words,” I said. “Brandon, tell them what I did. Tell them I’m telling the truth.”

  Brandon buried his face in Mom’s sweater. She hugged him. I could see his shoulders trembling.

  The big hulk was frightened. He wasn’t going to help me.

  “I guess the party is over,” Mr. Shear said with a sigh. He helped pull my dad to his feet. Then they both gave me cold stares.

  “I … don’t really understand what happened here,” Dad said. He rubbed his forehead. “Ray, why are you acting so crazy?”