40 - Night of the Living Dummy III (2 page)

“Well?” Dan tried to grab it back. But I swung out of his reach. “What’s the
name?”

“It doesn’t say,” I told him. “There are just these weird words. Foreign, I
guess.”

I moved my lips silently as I struggled to read them. Then I read the words
out loud:
“Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”

Dan’s mouth dropped open. “Huh? What’s
that
supposed to mean?” he
cried.

He grabbed the paper from my hand. “I think you read it upside down!”

“No way!” I protested.

I glanced down at the dummy.

The glassy blue eyes stared up at me.

Then the right eye slowly closed. The dummy
winked
at me.

And then his left hand shot straight up—and slapped me in the face.

“Hey—!” I shouted. I jerked back as pain shot through my jaw.

“What’s your problem?” Dan demanded, glancing up from the slip of paper.

“Didn’t you
see
?” I shrieked. “He—he
slapped
me!” I rubbed my
cheek.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. For sure.”

“No—really!” I cried. “First he winked at me. Then he slapped me.”

“Tell me another one,” Dan groaned. “You’re such a jerk, Trina. Just because
you fall for Dad’s jokes doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for yours.”

“But I’m telling the truth!” I insisted.

I glanced up to see Dad poke his head up at the top of the stairs. “What’s
going on, guys?”

Dan folded up the slip of paper and tucked it back into the dummy’s jacket
pocket. “Nothing much,” he told Dad.

“Dad—the new dummy!” I cried, still rubbing my aching jaw. “He
slapped
me!”

Dad laughed. “Sorry, Trina. You’ll have to do better than that. You can’t kid
a kidder.”

That’s one of Dad’s favorite expressions: “You can’t kid a kidder.”

“But, Dad—” I stopped. I could see he wasn’t going to believe me. I wasn’t
even sure I believed it myself.

I glanced down at the dummy. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. Totally
lifeless.

“I have news, guys,” Dad said, sitting the new dummy up. “That was my brother—your uncle Cal—on the phone. He’s coming for a short visit while Aunt
Susan’s away on business. And he’s bringing your cousin Zane with him. It’s
Zane’s spring vacation from school, too.”

Dan and I both groaned. Dan stuck his finger in his mouth and pretended to
puke.

Zane isn’t our favorite cousin.

He’s our
only
cousin.

He’s twelve, but you’d think he was five or six. He’s pretty nerdy. His nose
runs a lot. And he’s kind of a wimp.

Kind of a
major
wimp.

“Hey, stop groaning,” Dad scolded. “Zane is your only cousin. He’s family.”

Dan and I groaned again. We couldn’t help it.

“He isn’t a bad kid,” Dad continued, narrowing his eyes at us behind his
glasses. That meant he was being serious. “You two have to promise me
something.”

“What kind of promise?” I asked.

“You have to promise me that you’ll be nicer to Zane this time.”

“We were nice to him last time,” Dan insisted. “We
talked
to him,
didn’t we?”

“You scared him to death last time,” Dad said, frowning. “You made him
believe that this old house is haunted. And you scared him so badly, he ran
outside and refused to come back in.”

“Dad, it was all a joke,” I protested.

“Yeah. It was a scream!” Dan agreed. He poked me in the side with his elbow.
“A scream. Get it?”

“Not funny,” Dad said unhappily. “Not funny at all. Listen, guys—Zane can’t
help it if he’s a little timid. He’ll outgrow it. You just have to be nice to
him.”

Dan snickered. “Zane is afraid of your dummies, Dad. Can you believe it?”

“Then don’t drag him up here and scare the life out of him,” Dad ordered.

“How about if we just play one or two little jokes on him?” Dan asked.

“No tricks,” Dad replied firmly. “None.”

Dan and I exchanged glances.

“Promise me,” Dad insisted. “I mean it. Right now. Both of you. Promise me
there will be no tricks. Promise me you won’t try to scare your cousin.”

“Okay. I promise,” I said. I raised my right hand as if I were swearing an
oath.

“I promise, too,” Dan said softly.

I checked to see if his fingers were crossed. They weren’t.

Dan and I had both made a solemn promise. We both promised not to terrify our
cousin. And we meant it.

But it was a promise we couldn’t keep.

Before the week was over, our cousin Zane would be terrified.

And so would we.

I was playing the piano when Zane arrived. The piano is tucked away in a
small room in the back of the house. It’s a small black upright piano, kind of
beat-up and scratched. Dad bought it from my old music teacher who moved to
Cleveland.

Two of the pedals don’t work. And the piano really needs to be tuned. But I
love to play it—especially when I’m stressed out or excited. It always helps
to calm me down.

I’m pretty good at it. Even Dan agrees. Most of the time he pushes me off the
piano bench so he can play “Chopsticks”. But sometimes he stands beside me and
listens. I’ve been practicing some nice Haydn pieces and some of the easy Chopin
etudes.

Anyway, I was in the back of the house banging away on the piano when Zane
and Uncle Cal arrived. I guess I was a little nervous about seeing Zane again.

Dan and I were really mean to him during his last visit. Like Dad said, Zane
has always been scared of this old house. And we did everything we could to make
him even
more
scared.

We walked around in the attic every night, howling softly like ghosts, making
the floor creak. We crept into his bedroom closet in the middle of the night and
made him think his clothes were dancing. We rigged a pair of Mom’s panty hose so
they cast a ghostly shadow of legs onto his bedroom floor.

Poor Zane. I think Dan and I went a little too far. After a few days, he
jumped at every sound. And his eyes kept darting from side to side like a
frightened lizard’s.

I heard him tell Uncle Cal that he never wanted to come back here.

Dan and I laughed about that. But it wasn’t very nice.

So I was a little nervous about seeing Zane again. I was playing the piano so
loudly, I didn’t hear the doorbell. Dan had to come running in and tell me Uncle
Cal and Zane had arrived.

I jumped up from the piano bench. “How does Zane look?” I asked my brother.

“Big,” Dan replied. “He grew. A lot. And he let his hair grow long.”

Zane was always a pretty big guy. That’s why Dan and I thought his being a
total wimp was so funny.

He’s big and beefy. Not tall. He’s built kind of like a bulldog. A big blond
bulldog.

I guess he’s actually good-looking. He has round blue eyes, wavy blond hair,
and a nice smile. He looks as if he works out or plays sports. He really doesn’t
look like the wimp type at all.

That’s why it’s such a riot to see him quivering in fear. Or wailing like a
baby. Running to his mom or dad in terror.

I followed Dan through the back hall. “Did Zane say anything to you?” I
asked.

“Just hi,” Dan replied.

“A friendly ‘hi’ or an unfriendly ‘hi’?” I demanded.

Dan didn’t have time to answer. We had reached the front hall.

“Hey—!” Uncle Cal greeted me, stretching out his arms for a hug. Uncle Cal
looks a lot like a chipmunk. He’s very small. He has a round face, a twitchy
little nose, and two teeth that poke out from his upper lip.

“You’re getting so tall!” he exclaimed as I hugged him. “You’ve grown a lot,
Trina!”

Why do grown-ups
always
have to comment on how tall kids are getting?
Can’t they think of anything else to say?

I saw Dad lugging their two heavy suitcases up the stairs.

“I didn’t know if you’d be hungry or not,” Mom told Uncle Cal. “So I made a bunch of sandwiches.”

I turned to say hi to Zane. And a flash of white light made me cry out in
surprise.

“Don’t move. One more,” I heard Zane say.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the light from my eyes. When I finally
focused, I saw that Zane had a camera up to his face.

He clicked it. Another bright flash of light.

“That’s good,” he said. “You looked really surprised. I only like to take
candid shots.”

“Zane is really into photography,” Uncle Cal said, grinning proudly.

“I’m blind!” I cried, rubbing my eyes.

“I needed extra flash because this house is so dark,” Zane said. He lowered
his head to the camera and fiddled with his lens.

Dad came shuffling down the stairs. Zane turned and snapped his picture.

“Zane is really into photography,” Uncle Cal repeated to my father. “I told
him maybe you’ve got an old camera or two at the shop that he could have.”

“Uh… maybe,” Dad replied.

Uncle Cal makes a lot more money than Dad. But whenever he visits, he always
tries to get Dad to give him stuff.

“Nice camera,” Dad told Zane. “What kind of photos do you like to take?”

“Candid shots,” Zane replied, pushing back his blond hair. “And I take a lot
of still lifes.” He stepped into the hall and flashed a close-up of the
banister.

Dan leaned close and whispered in my ear, “He’s still a pain. Let’s give him
a really good scare.”

“No way!” I whispered back. “No scares this time. We promised Dad—remember?”

“I’ve set up a darkroom in the basement,” Dad told Zane. “Sometimes I bring
developing work home from the store. You can use the darkroom this week, if you
want to.”

“Great!” Zane replied.

“I told Zane maybe you have some sheets of developing paper you can spare,”
Uncle Cal said to Dad.

Zane raised his camera and flashed another picture. Then he turned to Dan.
“Are you still into video games?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dan replied. “Mostly sports games. I have the new
NBA Jams.
And I’m saving my allowance to get the new thirty-two-bit system. You still
play?”

Zane shook his head. “Not since I got my camera. I don’t really have time for
games anymore.”

“How about some sandwiches, everyone?” Mom asked, moving toward the dining
room.

“I think I’d like to unpack first,” Uncle Cal told her. “Zane, you should
unpack, too.”

We all split up. Dan and Dad disappeared somewhere. Uncle Cal and Zane went
up to their rooms to unpack—our big old house has a lot of extra bedrooms.

I was heading into the kitchen to help Mom with the sandwiches when I heard
Zane scream.

A shrill scream from upstairs.

A scream of horror.

Mom gasped and dropped the sandwich tray she was carrying.

I spun around and went running to the front hall.

Dad was already halfway up the stairs. “What’s wrong?” he called. “Zane—what’s the matter?”

When I reached the second floor, I saw Dan step out of his room. Zane stood
in the hallway. Someone lay stretched across the floor at his feet.

Even from halfway down the hall, I could see that Zane was trembling.

I hurried over to him.

Who was sprawled on the floor like that, legs and arms all twisted?

“Zane—what happened? What happened?” Dad and Uncle Cal both shouted.

Zane stood there shaking all over. The camera seemed to tremble, too,
swinging on its strap over his chest.

I glanced down at the body on the floor.

A ventriloquist’s dummy.

Rocky.

Rocky sneered up at the ceiling. His red-and-white striped shirt had rolled
up halfway, revealing his wooden body. One leg was bent under him. Both arms
were stretched out over the floor.

“That d-dummy—” Zane stammered, pointing down at Rocky. “It—it
fell
on me when I opened the bedroom door.”

“Huh? It
what
?” Uncle Cal cried.

“It dropped down on me,” Zane repeated. “When I pushed the door. I didn’t
mean to scream. It just scared me, that’s all. It was so heavy. And it fell near
my head.”

I turned and saw Dad glaring angrily at Dan.

Dan raised both hands in protest. “Hey—don’t look at me!” he cried.

“Dan, you made a promise,” Dad said sharply.

“I didn’t do it!” Dan cried. “It had to be Trina!”

“Hey—no way!” I protested. “No way! I didn’t do it!”

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “I suppose the dummy climbed up on top of the
door by himself!” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It was just a joke,” Uncle Cal chimed in. “You’re okay—right, Zane?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Zane’s cheeks were red. I could see he was embarrassed by all
the fuss. “I just wasn’t expecting something to fall on me. You know.” He stared
at the floor.

“Let’s finish unpacking,” Uncle Cal suggested. “I’m starting to get hungry.”
He turned to Dad. “Do you have any extra pillows? There’s only one on my bed.
And I like to sleep with a
lot
of pillows.”

“I’ll see if we have any more,” Dad replied. He frowned at me. “You and Dan—take Rocky up to the attic. And no more little jokes. You promised—remember?”

I picked Rocky up carefully and slung him over my shoulder. “Get the attic
door for me,” I instructed Dan.

We made our way down the hall. “What is your problem, Mouse?” I whispered to
my brother.

“Don’t call me Mouse,” he replied through gritted teeth. “You know I hate
it.”

“Well, I hate broken promises,” I told him. “You can’t wait one minute to
start scaring Zane? You’re going to get us in major trouble.”

“Me?” Dan put on his innocent act. “I didn’t hide the dummy up there.
You
did—and you know it!”

“Did not!” I whispered angrily.

“Hey, guys, can I come with you?” I turned to see Zane right behind us. I
hadn’t realized he’d followed us.

“You want to come up to the Dummy Museum?” I asked, unable to hide my
surprise. Last visit, Zane had been afraid of the dummies.