Night of the Living Dummy (3 page)

6

“Do you like him?”

At first, Kris thought that Slappy had asked the question.

She gaped in stunned disbelief.

“Well? What do you think of him?”

It took Kris a long moment to realize that the voice was coming from behind her. She turned to find her father standing in the doorway, still dabbing at his eyes with a wet dishtowel.

“The—the new dummy?” Kris stammered.

“He’s for you,” Mr. Powell said, stepping into the room, the wet towel pressed against both eyes.

“Really?” Kris hurried over to the chair and picked the new dummy up to examine him.

“There’s a tiny pawnshop on the corner across from my office,” Mr. Powell said, lowering the towel. “I was walking past and, believe it or not, this guy was in the window. He was cheap, too. I think the pawnbroker was glad to get rid of him.”

“He’s… cute,” Kris said, searching for the right word. “He looks just like Lindy’s dummy, except his hair is bright red, not brown.”

“Probably made by the same company,” Mr. Powell said.

“His clothes are better than Slappy’s,” Kris said, holding the dummy out at arm’s length to get a good view. “I hate that stupid gray suit on Lindy’s dummy.”

The new dummy wore blue denim jeans and a red-and-green flannel shirt. And instead of the formal-looking, shiny brown shoes, he had white high-top sneakers on his feet.

“So you like him?” Mr. Powell asked, smiling.

“I
love
him!” Kris cried happily. She crossed the room and gave her dad a hug.

Then she picked up the dummy and ran out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. “Hey, everybody! Meet Mr. Wood!” she declared happily, holding the grinning dummy up in front of her.

Barky yapped excitedly, leaping up to nip at the dummy’s sneakers. Kris pulled her dummy away.

“Hey!” Lindy cried in surprise. “Where’d you get that?”

“From Daddy,” Kris said, her grin wider than the dummy’s. “I’m going to start practicing with him after dinner, and I’m going to be a better ventriloquist than you.”

“Kris!” Mrs. Powell scolded. “Everything isn’t a competition, you know!”

“I already have a job with Slappy,” Lindy said with a superior sneer. “And you’re just getting started. You’re just a beginner.”

“Mr. Wood is much better-looking than Slappy,” Kris said, mirroring her twin’s sneer. “Mr. Wood is cool-looking. That gray suit on your dummy is the pits.”

“You think that ratty old shirt is cool-looking?” Lindy scoffed, making a disgusted face. “Yuck. That old dummy probably has worms!”

““
You
have worms!” Kris exclaimed.

“Your dummy won’t be funny,” Lindy said nastily, “because you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kris replied, tossing Mr. Wood over her shoulder. “I
must
have a sense of humor. I put up with
you,
don’t I?”

“Copycat! Copycat!” Lindy cried angrily.

“Out of the kitchen!” Mrs. Powell ordered with an impatient shriek. “Out! Get out! You two are impossible! The dummies have better personalities than either of you!”

“Thanks, Mom,” Kris said sarcastically.

“Call me for dinner,” Lindy called back. “I’m going upstairs to practice my act with Slappy for the birthday party on Saturday.”

It was the next afternoon, and Kris was sitting at the dressing table she shared with Lindy. Kris rummaged in the jewelry box and pulled out another string of brightly colored beads. She slipped them over her head and untangled them from the other three strands of beads she was wearing. Then she gazed at herself in the mirror, shaking her head to better see the long, dangly earrings.

I love my junk jewelry collection, she thought, digging into the depths of the wooden jewelry box to see what other treasures she could pull out.

Lindy had no interest in the stuff. But Kris could spend hours trying on the beads, fingering the dozens of little charms, running her fingers over the plastic bracelets, jangling the earrings. Her jewelry collection always cheered her up.

She shook her head again, making the long earrings jangle. A knock on the bedroom door made her spin around.

“Hey, Kris, how’s it going?” Her friend Cody Matthews stepped into the room. He had straight, white-blond hair, and pale gray eyes in a slender, serious face. Cody always looked as if he were deep in thought.

“You ride your bike over?” Kris asked, removing several strands of beads at once and tossing them into the jewelry box.

“No. Walked,” Cody replied. “Why’d you call? You just want to hang out?”

“No.” Kris jumped to her feet. She walked over to the chair by the window and grabbed up Mr. Wood. “I want to practice my act.”

Cody groaned. “I’m the guinea pig?”

“No. The audience. Come on.”

She led him out to the bent old maple tree in the middle of her back yard. The afternoon sun was just beginning to lower itself in the clear, spring-blue sky.

She raised one foot against the tree trunk and propped Mr. Wood on her knee. Cody sprawled on his back in the shade. “Tell me if this is funny,” she instructed.

“Okay. Shoot,” Cody replied, narrowing his eyes in concentration.

Kris turned Mr. Wood to face her. “How are you today?” she asked him.

“Pretty good. Knock wood,” she made the dummy say.

She waited for Cody to laugh, but he didn’t. “Was that funny?” she asked.

“Kinda,” he replied without enthusiasm. “Keep going.”

“Okay.” Kris lowered her head so that she was face-to-face with her dummy. “Mr. Wood,” she said, “why were you standing in front of the mirror with your eyes closed?”

“Well,” answered the dummy in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, “I wanted to see what I look like when I’m asleep!”

Kris tilted the dummy’s head back and made him look as if he were laughing. “How about that joke?” she asked Cody.

Cody shrugged. “Better, I guess.”

“Aw, you’re no help!” Kris screamed angrily. She lowered her arms, and Mr. Wood crumpled onto her lap. “You’re supposed to tell me if it’s funny or not.”

“I guess
not,”
Cody said thoughtfully.

Kris groaned. “I need some good joke books,” she said. “That’s all. Some good joke books with some really funny jokes. Then I’d be ready to perform. Because I’m a pretty good ventriloquist, right?”

“I guess,” Cody replied, pulling up a handful of grass and letting the moist, green blades sift through his fingers.

“Well, I don’t move my lips very much,
do I
?” Kris demanded.

“Not too much,” Cody allowed. “But you don’t really throw your voice.”

“No one can throw her voice,” Kris told him. “It’s just an illusion. You make people
think
you’re throwing your voice. You don’t
really
throw it.”

“Oh,” Cody said, pulling up another handful of grass.

Kris tried out several more jokes. “What do you think?” she asked Cody.

“I think I have to go home,” Cody said. He tossed a handful of grass at her.

Kris brushed the green blades off Mr. Wood’s wooden head. She rubbed her hand gently over the dummy’s painted red hair. “You’re hurting Mr. Wood’s feelings,” she told Cody.

Cody climbed to his feet. “Why do you want to mess with that thing, anyway?” he asked, pushing his white-blond hair back off his forehead.

“Because it’s fun,” Kris replied.

“Is that the real reason?” Cody demanded.

“Well… I guess I want to show Lindy that I’m better at it than she is.”

“You two are
weird!”
Cody declared. “See you in school.” He gave her a little wave, then turned and headed for his home down the block.

Kris pulled down the blankets and climbed into bed. Pale moonlight filtered in through the bedroom window.

Yawning, she glanced at the clock-radio. Nearly ten. She could hear Lindy brushing her teeth in the bathroom across the hall.

Why does Lindy always hum when she brushes her teeth? Kris wondered. How can one twin sister do so many annoying things?

She gave Mr. Wood one last glance. He was propped in the chair in front of the window, his hands carefully placed in his lap, his white sneakers hanging over the chair edge.

He looks like a real person, Kris thought sleepily.

Tomorrow I’m going to check out some good joke books from the library at school. I can be funnier than Lindy. I
know
I can.

She settled back sleepily on her pillow. I’ll be asleep as soon as we turn off the lights, she thought.

A few seconds later, Lindy entered the room, wearing her nightshirt and carrying Slappy under one arm. “You asleep?” she asked Kris.

“Almost,” Kris replied, yawning loudly. “I’ve been studying for the math final all night. Where’ve you been?”

“Over at Alice’s,” Lindy told her, setting Slappy down in the chair beside Mr. Wood. “Some kids were over, and I practiced my act for them. They laughed so hard, I thought they’d split a gut. When Slappy and I did our rap routine, Alice spit her chocolate milk out her nose. What a riot!”

“That’s nice,” Kris said without enthusiasm. “Guess you and Slappy are ready for Amy’s birthday party on Saturday.”

“Yeah,” Lindy replied. She placed Slappy’s arm around Mr. Wood’s shoulder. “They look so cute together,” she said. Then she noticed the clothing neatly draped over the desk chair. “What’s that?” she asked Kris.

Kris raised her head from the pillow to see what her sister was pointing at. “My outfit for tomorrow,” she told her. “We’re having a dress-up party in Miss Finch’s class. It’s a farewell party. For Margot. You know. The student teacher.”

Lindy stared at the clothes. “Your Betsey Johnson skirt? Your silk blouse?”

“We’re supposed to get really dressed up,” Kris said, yawning. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Lindy made her way to her bed, sat down, and clicked off the bed-table lamp. “Are you getting any better with Mr. Wood?” she asked, climbing between the sheets.

Kris was stung by the question. It was such an obvious put-down. “Yeah. I’m getting really good. I did some stuff for Cody. Out in the back yard. Cody laughed so hard, he couldn’t breathe. Really. He was holding his sides. He said Mr. Wood and I should be on TV.”

“Really?” Lindy replied after a long moment’s hesitation. “That’s weird. I never thought Cody had much of a sense of humor. He’s always so grim. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh.”

“Well, he was laughing at Mr. Wood and me,” Kris insisted, wishing she were a better liar.

“Awesome,” Lindy muttered. “I can’t wait to see your act.”

Neither can I, Kris thought glumly.

A few seconds later, they were both asleep.

Their mother’s voice, calling from downstairs, awoke them at seven the next morning. Bright, morning-orange sunlight poured in through the window. Kris could hear birds chirping happily in the old maple tree.

“Rise and shine! Rise and shine!” Every morning, Mrs. Powell shouted up the same words.

Kris rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then stretched her arms high over her head. She glanced across the room, then uttered a quiet gasp. “Hey—what’s going on?” She reached across to Lindy’s bed and shook Lindy by the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” Lindy, startled, sat straight up.

“What’s the joke? Where is he?” Kris demanded.

“Huh?”

Kris pointed to the chair across the room.

Sitting straight up in the chair, Slappy grinned back at them, bathed in morning sunlight.

But Mr. Wood was gone.

7

Kris blinked several times and pushed herself up in bed with both hands. Her left hand tingled. She must have been sleeping on it, she realized.

“What? What’s wrong?” Lindy asked, her voice fogged with sleep.

“Where’s Mr. Wood?” Kris demanded impatiently. “Where’d you put him?”

“Huh? Put him?” Lindy struggled to focus her eyes. She saw Slappy sitting stiffly on the chair across the room. By himself.

“It’s not funny,” Kris snapped. She climbed out of bed, pulled down the hem of her nightshirt, and made her way quickly to the chair in front of the window. “Don’t you ever get tired of playing stupid jokes?”

“Jokes? Huh?” Lindy lowered her feet to the floor.

Kris bent down to search the floor under the chair. Then she moved to the foot of the bed and got down on her knees to search under both twin beds.

“Where
is
he, Lindy?” she asked angrily, on her knees at the foot of the bed. “I don’t think this is funny. I really don’t.”

“Well, neither do I,” Lindy insisted, standing up and stretching.

Kris climbed to her feet. Her eyes went wide as she spotted the missing dummy.

“Oh!”

Lindy followed her sister’s startled gaze.

Mr. Wood grinned at them from the doorway. He appeared to be standing, his skinny legs bent at an awkward angle.

He was wearing Kris’ dress-up clothes, the Betsey Johnson skirt and the silk blouse.

Her mouth wide open in surprise, Kris made her way quickly to the doorway. She immediately saw that the dummy wasn’t really standing on his own. He had been propped up, the doorknob shoved into the opening in his back.

She grabbed the dummy by the waist and pulled him away from the door. “My blouse. It’s all wrinkled,” she cried, holding it so Lindy could see. She narrowed her eyes angrily at her sister. “This was so obnoxious of you, Lindy.”

“Me?” Lindy shrieked. “I swear, Kris, I didn’t do it. I slept like a rock last night. I didn’t move. I didn’t get up till you woke me. I didn’t do it. Really!”

Kris stared hard at her sister, then lowered her eyes to the dummy.

In her blouse and skirt, Mr. Wood grinned up at her, as if enjoying her bewilderment.

“Well, Mr. Wood,” Kris said aloud, “I guess you put on my clothes and walked to the door all by yourself!”

Lindy started to say something. But their mother’s voice from downstairs interrupted. “Are you girls going to school today? Where
are
you? You’re late!”

“Coming!” Kris called down, casting an angry glance at Lindy. She carefully set Mr. Wood down on his back on her bed and pulled her skirt and blouse off him. She looked up to see Lindy making a mad dash across the hall to be first in the bathroom.

Sighing, Kris stared down at Mr. Wood. The dummy grinned up at her, a mischievous grin.

“Well? What’s going on?” she asked the dummy. “I didn’t dress you up and move you. And Lindy swears
she
didn’t do it.”

But if we didn’t do it,
she thought,
who did?