NightoftheLivingDummyII-Goosebumps31

R.L.Stine

1MynameisAmyKramer,andeveryThursdaynightIfeelalittledumb.That’sbecauseThursdayis“FamilySharingNight”atmyhouse.SaraandJedthinkit’sdumb,too.ButMomandDadwon’tlistentoourcomplaints.“It’sthemostimportantnightoftheweek,”Dadsays.“It’safamilytradition,”Momadds.“It’ssomethingyoukidswillalwaysremember.”Right,Mom.It’ssomethingI’llalwaysrememberasreallypainfulandembarrassing.You’veprobablyguessedthatonFamilySharingNight,everymemberoftheKramerfamily—exceptforGeorge,ourcat—hastosharesomethingwiththerestofthefamilyItisn’tsobadformysister,Sara.Saraisfourteen—twoyearsolderthanme—andshe’sageniuspainter.Really.Oneofherpaintingswaschosenforashowattheartmuseumdowntown.Saramaygotoaspecialartshighschoolnextyear.SoSaraalwayssharessomesketchesshe’sworkingon.Oranewpainting.AndFamilySharingNightisn’tsobadforJed,either.Myten-year-oldbrotherissuchatotalgoof.Hedoesn’tcarewhatheshares.OneThursdaynight,heburpedreallyloudandexplainedthathewassharinghisdinner.Jedlaughedlikealunatic.ButMomandDaddidn’tthinkitwasfunny.TheygaveJedasternlectureabouttakingFamilySharingNightmoreseriously.ThenextThursdaynight,myobnoxiousbrothersharedanotethatDavidMiller,akidatmyschool,hadwrittentome.Averypersonalnote!Jedfoundthenoteinmyroomanddecidedtoshareitwitheveryone.Nice?Iwantedtodie.Ireallydid.Jedjustthinkshe’ssocuteandadorable,hecangetawaywithanything.Hethinkshe’sreallyspecial.Ithinkit’sbecausehe’stheonlyredheadinthefamily.SaraandIbothhavestraightblackhair,darkgreeneyes,andverytanskin.Withhispaleskin,freckledface,andcurlyredhair,Jedlookslikehecomesfromanotherfamily!

AndsometimesSaraandIbothwishhedid.Anyway,I’mtheonewiththemostproblemsonFamilySharingNight.BecauseI’mnotreallytalentedthewaySarais.AndI’mnotatotalgooflikeJed.SoIneverreallyknowwhattoshare.Imean,Ihaveaseashellcollection,whichIkeepinajaronmydresser.Butit’sreallykindofboringtoholdupshellsandtalkaboutthem.Andwehaven’tbeentotheoceanfornearlytwoyears.Somyshellsarekindofold,andeveryonehasalreadyseenthem.IalsohaveareallygoodcollectionofCDs.ButnooneelseinmyfamilyisintoBobMarleyandreggaemusic.IfIstarttosharesomemusicwiththem,theyallholdtheirearsandcomplaintillIshutitoff.SoIusuallymakeupsomekindofastory—anadventurestoryaboutagirlwhosurvivesdangerafterdanger.Orawildfairytaleaboutprincesseswhoturnintotigers.Aftermylaststory,Dadhadabigsmileonhisface.“Amyisgoingtobeafamouswriter,”heannounced.“She’ssogoodatmakingupstories.”Dadgazedaroundtheroom,stillsmiling.“Wehavesuchatalentedfamily!”heexclaimed.Iknewhewasjustsayingthattobeagoodparent.To“encourage”me.Saraistherealtalentinourfamily.Everyoneknowsthat.Tonight,Jedwasthefirsttoshare.MomandDadsatonthelivingroomcouch.Dadhadtakenoutatissueandwassquintingashecleanedhisglasses.Dadcan’tstandtohavethetiniestspeckofdustonhisglasses.Hecleansthemabouttwentytimesaday.Isettledinthebigbrownarmchairagainstthewall.Sarasatcross-leggedonthecarpetbesidemychair.“Whatareyougoingtosharetonight?”MomaskedJed.“AndIhopeitisn’tanotherhorribleburp.”“Thatwassogross!”Saramoaned.“Yourfaceisgross!”Jedshotback.HestuckouthistongueatSara.“Jed,please—giveusabreaktonight,”Dadmuttered,slippinghisglassesbackon,adjustingthemonhisnose.“Don’tcausetrouble.”“Shestartedit,”Jedinsisted,pointingatSara.“Justsharesomething,”ItoldJed,sighing.

“Justsharesomething,”ItoldJed,sighing.“I’mgoingtoshareyourfreckles,”Saratoldhim.“I’mgoingtopullthemoffonebyoneandfeedthemtoGeorge.”SaraandIlaughed.Georgedidn’tglanceup.Hewascurledup,nappingonthecarpetbesidethecouch.“That’snotfunny,girls,”Momsnapped.“Stopbeingmeantoyourbrother.”“Thisissupposedtobeafamilynight,”Dadwailed.“Whycan’twebeafamily?”“Weare!”Jedinsisted.Dadfrownedandshookhishead.Helookslikeanowlwhenhedoesthat.“Jed,areyougoingtosharesomething?”hedemandedweakly.Jednodded.“Yeah.”Hestoodinthecenteroftheroomandshovedhishandsintohisjeanspockets.Hewearsloose,baggyjeansabouttensizestoobig.Theyalwayslookasifthey’reabouttofalldown.Jedthinksthat’scool.“I...uh...learnedtowhistlethroughmyfingers,”heannounced.“Wow,”Saramutteredsarcastically.Jedignoredher.Hepulledhishandsfromhispockets.Thenhestuckhistwolittlefingersintothesidesofhismouth—andletoutalong,shrillwhistle.Hewhistledthroughhisfingerstwomoretimes.Thenhetookadeepbow.Thewholefamilyburstintoloudapplause.Jed,grinning,tookanotherlowbow.“Suchatalentedfamily!”Daddeclared.Thistime,hemeantitasajoke.JeddroppeddownonthefloorbesideGeorge,startlingthepoorcatawake.“Yourturnnext,Amy,”Momsaid,turningtome.“Areyougoingtotellusanotherstory?”“Herstoriesaretoolong!”Jedcomplained.GeorgeclimbedunsteadilytohisfeetandmovedafewfeetawayfromJed.Yawning,thecatdroppedontohisstomachbesideMom’sfeet.“I’mnotgoingtotellastorytonight,”Iannounced.IpickedupDennisfrombehindmyarmchair.SaraandJedbothgroaned.“Hey—givemeabreak!”Ishouted.Isettledbackontheedgeofthechair,

“Hey—givemeabreak!”Ishouted.Isettledbackontheedgeofthechair,fixingmydummyonmylap.“IthoughtI’dtalktoDennistonight,”ItoldMomandDad.Theyhadhalf-smilesontheirfaces.Ididn’tcare.I’dbeenpracticingwithDennisallweek.AndIwantedtotryoutmynewcomedyroutinewithhim.“Amyisalousyventriloquist,”Jedchimedin.“Youcanseeherlipsmove.”“Bequiet,Jed.IthinkDennisisfunny,”Sarasaid.Shescootedtowardthecouchsoshecouldseebetter.IbalancedDennisonmyleftkneeandwrappedmyfingersaroundthestringinhisbackthatworkedhismouth.Dennisisaveryoldventriloquist’sdummy.Thepaintonhisfaceisfaded.Oneeyeisalmostcompletelywhite.Histurtlenecksweateristornandtattered.ButIhavealotoffunwithhim.Whenmyfive-year-oldcousinscometovisit,IliketoentertainthemwithDennis.Theysquealandlaugh.TheythinkI’mariot.IthinkI’mgettingmuchbetterwithDennis.DespiteJed’scomplaints.Itookadeepbreath,glancedatMomandDad,andbeganmyact.“Howareyoutonight,Dennis?”Iasked.“Nottoowell,”Imadethedummyreplyinahigh,shrillvoice.Dennis’svoice.“Really,Dennis?What’swrong?”“IthinkIcaughtabug.”“Youmeanyouhavetheflu?”Iaskedhim.“No.Termites!”MomandDadlaughed.Sarasmiled.Jedgroanedloudly.IturnedbacktoDennis.“Well,haveyoubeentoadoctor?”Iaskedhim.“No.Acarpenter!”MomandDadsmiledatthatone,butdidn’tlaugh.Jedgroanedagain.Sarastuckherfingerdownherthroat,pretendingtopuke.“Noonelikedthatjoke,Dennis,”Itoldhim.“Who’sjoking?”ImadeDennisreply.“Thisislame,”IheardJedmuttertoSara.Shenoddedherheadinagreement.“Let’schangethesubject,Dennis,”Isaid,shiftingthedummytomyotherknee.

“Let’schangethesubject,Dennis,”Isaid,shiftingthedummytomyotherknee.“Doyouhaveagirlfriend?”IleanedDennisforward,tryingtomakehimnodhisheadyes.Buthisheadrolledrightoffhisshoulders.ThewoodenheadhitthefloorwithathudandbouncedovertoGeorge.Thecatleapedupandscamperedaway.SaraandJedcollapsedinlaughter,slappingeachotherhighfives.Ijumpedangrilytomyfeet.“Dad!”Iscreamed.“Youpromisedyou’dbuymeanewdummy!”JedscurriedovertotherugandpickedupDennis’shead.Hepulledthestring,makingthedummy’smouthmove.“Amyreeks!Amyreeks!”Jedmadethedummyrepeatoverandover.“Givemethat!”IgrabbedtheheadangrilyfromJed’shand.“Amyreeks!Amyreeks!”Jedcontinuedchanting.“That’senough!”Momshouted,jumpingupoffthecouch.Jedretreatedbacktothewall.“I’vebeencheckingthestoresforanewdummy,”Dadtoldme,pullingoffhisglassesagainandexaminingthemclosely.“Butthey’reallsoexpensive.”“Well,howamIevergoingtogetbetteratthis?”Idemanded.“Dennis’sheadfallsoffeverytimeIusehim!”“Doyourbest,”Momsaid.Whatdidthatmean?Ialwayshateditwhenshesaidthat.“InsteadofFamilySharingNight,weshouldcallthistheThursdayNightFights,”Saradeclared.Jedraisedhisfists.“Wanttofight?”heaskedSara.“It’syourturn,Sara,”Momreplied,narrowinghereyesatJed.“Whatareyousharingtonight?”“Ihaveanewpainting,”Saraannounced.“It’sawatercolor.”“Ofwhat?”Dadasked,settlinghisglassesbackonhisface.“RememberthatcabinwehadinMaineafewsummersago?”Sarareplied,tossingbackherstraightblackhair.“Theoneoverlookingthedarkrockcliff?Ifoundasnapshotofit,andItriedtopaintit.”

Isuddenlyfeltreallyangryandupset.Iadmitit.IwasjealousofSara.Hereshewas,abouttoshareanotherbeautifulwatercolor.AndhereIwas,rollingastupidwoodendummyheadinmylap.Itjustwasn’tfair!“You’llhavetocometomyroomtoseeit,”Sarawassaying.“It’sstillwet.”WeallstoodupandtroopedtoSara’sroom.Myfamilylivesinalong,one-storyranch-stylehouse.MyroomandJed’sroomareattheendofonehallway.Thelivingroom,diningroom,andkitchenareinthemiddle.Sara’sroomandmyparents’roomaredowntheotherhall,wayattheotherendofthehouse.Iledthewaydownthehall.Behindme,Sarawasgoingonandonaboutallthetroubleshe’dhadwiththepaintingandhowshe’dsolvedtheproblems.“Irememberthatcabinsowell,”Dadsaid.“Ican’twaittoseethepainting,”Momadded.IsteppedintoSara’sroomandclickedonthelight.ThenIturnedtotheeaselbythewindowthatheldthepainting—andletoutascreamofhorror.

2Mymouthdroppedopeninshock.Istaredatthepainting,unabletospeak.WhenSarasawit,sheletoutashriek.“I—Idon’tbelieveit!”shescreamed.“Whodidthat?”Someonehadpaintedayellow-and-blacksmilefaceinthecornerofherpainting.Rightinthemiddleoftheblackrockcliff.MomandDadsteppeduptotheeasel,fretfulexpressionsontheirfaces.Theystudiedthesmileface,thenturnedtoJed.Jedburstoutlaughing.“Doyoulikeit?”heaskedinnocently.“Jed—howcouldyou!”Saraexploded.“I’llkillyou!Ireallywill!”“Thepaintingwastoodark,”Jedexplainedwithashrug.“Iwantedtobrightenitup.”“But...but...but...”mysistersputtered.Sheballedherhandsintofists,shookthematJed,andutteredaloudcryofrage.“Jed—whatwereyoudoinginSara’sroom?”Momdemanded.Saradoesn’tlikeforanyonetogointoherpreciousroomwithoutawritteninvitation!“Youngman,youknowyou’reneverallowedtotouchyoursister’spaintings,”Dadscolded.“Icanpaint,too,”Jedreplied.“I’magoodpainter.”“Thendoyourownpaintings!”Sarasnapped.“Don’tsneakinhereandmessupmywork!”“Ididn’tsneak,”Jedinsisted.HesneeredatSara.“Iwasjusttryingtohelp.”“Youwerenot!”Sarascreamed,angrilytossingherblackhairoverhershoulder.“Youruinedmypainting!”“Yourpaintingreeks!”Jedshotback.“Enough!”Momshouted.ShegrabbedJedbybothshoulders.“Jed—lookatme!Youdon’tseemtoseehowseriousthisis.Thisistheworstthingyou’veeverdone!”Jed’ssmilefinallyfaded.ItookanotherglanceattheuglysmilefacehehadsloppedontoSara’s

ItookanotherglanceattheuglysmilefacehehadsloppedontoSara’swatercolor.Sincehe’sthebabyinthefamily,Jedthinkshecangetawaywithanything.ButIknewthatthistimehehadgonetoofar.Afterall,Saraisthestarofthefamily.She’sthetalentedone.Theonewiththepaintingthathunginamuseum.MessingwithSara’spreciouspaintingwasboundtogetJedinmajortrouble.Saraissostuck-upaboutherpaintings.Afewtimes,Ieventhoughtaboutpaintingsomethingfunnyononeofthem.ButofcourseIonlythoughtit.Iwouldneverdoanythingthathorrible.“Youdon’thavetobejealousofyoursister’swork,”DadwastellingJed.“We’realltalentedinthisfamily.”“Oh,sure,”Jedmuttered.Hehasthisweirdhabit.Wheneverhe’sintrouble,hedoesn’tsayhe’ssorry.Instead,hegetsreallyangry.“What’syourtalent,Dad?”Jeddemanded,sneering.Dad’sjawtightened.HenarrowedhiseyesatJed.“We’renotdiscussingme,”hesaidinalowvoice.“ButI’lltellyou.MytalentismyChinesecooking.Yousee,thereareallkindsoftalents,Jed.”DadconsidershimselfaMasteroftheWok.Onceortwiceaweek,hechopsatonofvegetablesintolittlepiecesandfriesthemupintheelectricwokMomgothimforChristmas.Wepretendittastesgreat.NopointinhurtingDad’sfeelings.“IsJedgoingtobepunishedornot?”Sarademandedinashrillvoice.Shehadopenedherboxofwatercolorpaintsandwasrollingabrushintheblack.Thenshebeganpaintingoverthesmilefacewithquick,furiousstrokes.“Yes,Jedisgoingtobepunished,”Momreplied,glaringathim.Jedloweredhiseyestothefloor.“Firsthe’sgoingtoapologizetoSara.”Weallwaited.IttookJedawhile.Buthefinallymanagedtomutter,“Sorry,Sara.”Hestartedtoleavetheroom,butMomgrabbedhisshouldersagainandpulledhimback.“Notsofast,Jed,”shetoldhim.“Yourpunishmentisyoucan’tgotothemovieswithJoshandMattonSaturday.And...novideogamesforaweek.”

week.”“Mom—givemeabreak!”Jedwhined.“Whatyoudidwasreallybad,”Momsaidsternly.“Maybethispunishmentwillmakeyourealizehowhorribleitwas.”“ButIhavetogotothemovies!”Jedprotested.“Youcan’t,”Momrepliedsoftly.“Andnoarguing,orI’lladdontoyourpunishment.Nowgotoyourroom.”“Idon’tthinkit’senoughpunishment,”Sarasaid,dabbingawayatherpainting.“Keepoutofit,Sara,”Momsnapped.“Yeah.Keepoutofit,”Jedmuttered.Hestompedoutoftheroomanddownthelonghalltohisroom.Dadsighed.Hesweptahandbackoverhisbaldhead.“FamilySharingNightisover,”hesaidsadly.IstayedinSara’sroomandwatchedherrepairthepaintingforawhile.Shekepttsk-tskingandshakingherhead.“Ihavetomaketherocksmuchdarker,orthepaintwon’tcoverthestupidsmileface,”sheexplainedunhappily.“ButifImaketherocksdarker,Ihavetochangethesky.Thewholebalanceisruined.”“Ithinkitlooksprettygood,”Itoldher,tryingtocheerherup.“HowcouldJeddothat?”Sarademanded,dippingherbrushinthewaterjar.“Howcouldhesneakinhereandtotallydestroyaworkofart?”IwasfeelingsorryforSara.Butthatremarkmademeloseallsympathy.Imean,whycouldn’tshejustcallitawatercolorpainting?Whydidshehavetocallit“aworkofart”?Sometimessheissostuck-upandsoinlovewithherself,itmakesmesick.Iturnedandlefttheroom.Shedidn’tevennotice.IwentdownthehalltomyroomandcalledmyfriendMargo.Wetalkedforawhileaboutstuff.Andwemadeplanstogettogetherthenextday.AsItalkedonthephone,IcouldhearJedinhisroomnextdoor.Hewaspacingbackandforth,tossingthingsaround,makingalotofnoise.SometimesIspelltheword“Jed”B-R-A-T.Margo’sdadmadehergetoffthephone.He’srealstrict.Heneverletshertalk

Margo’sdadmadehergetoffthephone.He’srealstrict.Heneverletshertalkformorethantenorfifteenminutes.IwanderedintothekitchenandmademyselfabowlofFrostedFlakes.Myfavoritelatesnack.WhenIwasalittlekid,Iusedtohaveabowlofcerealeverynightbeforebed.AndIjustnevergotoutofthehabit.Irinsedoutthebowl.ThenIsaidgoodnighttoMomandDadandwenttobed.Itwasawarmspringnight.Asoftbreezeflutteredthecurtainsoverthewindow.Palelightfromabighalf-moonfilledthewindowandspilledontothefloor.Ifellintoadeepsleepassoonasmyheadhitthepillow.Ashortwhilelater,somethingwokemeup.I’mnotsurewhat.Stillhalfasleep,Iblinkedmyeyesopenandraisedmyselfonmypillow.Istruggledtoseeclearly.Thecurtainsflappedoverthewindow.IfeltasifIwerestillasleep,dreaming.ButwhatIsawinthewindowsnappedmeawake.Thecurtainsbillowed,thenliftedaway.Andinthesilverylight,Isawaface.Anugly,grinningfaceinmybedroomwindow.Staringthroughthedarknessatme.

3Thecurtainsflappedagain.Thefacedidn’tmove.“Who—?”Ichokedout,squeezingthesheetuptomychin.Theeyesstaredinatme.Cold,unblinkingeyes.Dummyeyes.Dennis.Dennisstaredblanklyatme,hiswhiteeyecatchingtheglowofthemoonlight.Iletoutanangryroar,tossedoffthesheet,andboltedoutofbed.Tothewindow.IpushedawaythebillowingcurtainsandgrabbedDennis’sheadoffthewindowledge.“Whoputyouthere?”Idemanded,holdingtheheadbetweenmyhands.“Whodidit,Dennis?”Iheardsoftlaughterbehindme.Fromthehallway.Iflewacrosstheroom,theheadstillinmyhands.Ipulledopenmybedroomdoor.Jedheldhishandoverhismouth,mufflinghislaughter.“Gotcha!”hewhisperedgleefully.“Jed—youcreep!”Icried.Iletthedummyheaddroptothefloor.ThenIgrabbedJed’spajamapantswithbothhandsandjerkedthemupashighasIcould—nearlytohischin!Heletoutagaspofpainandstumbledbackagainstthewall.“Whydidyoudothat?”Idemandedinanangrywhisper.“Whydidyouputthedummyheadonmywindowledge?”Jedtuggedhispajamapantsbackintoplace.“Topayyouback,”hemuttered.“Huh?Me?”Ishrieked.“Ididn’tdoanythingtoyou.WhatdidIdo?”“Youdidn’tstickupforme,”hegrumbled,scratchinghisredcurlyhair.Hiseyesnarrowedatme.“Youdidn’tsayanythingtohelpmeout.Youknow.AboutSara’spainting.”“Excuseme?”Icried.“HowcouldIhelpyouout?WhatcouldIsay?”“Youcouldhavesaiditwasnobigdeal,”Jedreplied.

“Youcouldhavesaiditwasnobigdeal,”Jedreplied.“Butitwanabigdeal!”Itoldhim.“YouknowhowseriouslySaratakesherpaintings.”Ishookmyhead.“I’msorry,Jed.Butyoudeservetobepunished.Youreallydo.”Hestaredatmeacrossthedimhallway,thinkingaboutwhatI’dsaid.Thenanevilsmilespreadslowlyoverhisfreckledface.“HopeIdidn’tscareyoutoomuch,Amy.”Hesnickered.ThenhepickedDennis’sheadupoffthecarpetandtosseditatme.Icaughtitinonehand.“Gotosleep,Jed,”Itoldhim.“Anddon’tmesswithDennisagain!”Isteppedbackintomyroomandclosedthedoor.ItossedDennis’sheadontoapileofclothesonmydeskchair.ThenIclimbedwearilybackintobed.Somuchtroublearoundheretonight,Ithought,shuttingmyeyes,tryingtorelax.Somuchtrouble...Twodayslater,Dadbroughthomeapresentforme.Anewventriloquist’sdummy.That’swhentherealtroublebegan.

4Margocameoverthenextafternoon.Margoisrealtiny,sortoflikeamini-person.Shehasatinyface,andisverypretty,withbrightblueeyes,anddelicatefeatures.Herblondhairisverylightandveryfine.Sheletitgrowthisyear.It’sjustaboutdowntohertinylittlewaist.She’snearlyafootshorterthanme,eventhoughwebothturnedtwelveinFebruary.She’sverysmartandverypopular.Buttheboysliketomakefunofhersoft,whisperyvoice.Todayshewaswearingabrightbluetanktoptuckedintowhitetennisshorts.“IboughtthenewBeatlescollection,”shetoldmeasshesteppedintothehouse.SheheldupaCDbox.MargolovestheBeatles.Shedoesn’tlistentoanyofthenewgroups.Inherroom,shehasanentireshelfofBeatlesCDsandtapes.AndshehasBeatlespostersonherwalls.WewenttomyroomandputontheCD.Margosettledonthebed.Isprawledonthecarpetacrossfromher.“Mydadalmostdidn’tletmecomeover,”Margotoldme,pushingherlonghairbehindhershoulder.“Hethoughthemightneedmetoworkattherestaurant.”Margo’sdadownsahugerestaurantdowntowncalledThePartyHouse.It’snotreallyarestaurant.It’sabig,oldhousefilledwithenormousroomswherepeoplecanholdparties.Alotofkidshavebirthdaypartiesthere.Andtherearebarmitzvahsandconfirmationsandweddingreceptionsthere,too.Sometimestherearesixpartiesgoingonatonce!OneBeatlessongended.Thenextsong,“LoveMeDo,”startedup.“Ilovethissong!”Margoexclaimed.Shesangalongwithitforawhile.Itriedsingingwithher,butI’mtotallytonedeaf.Asmydadsays,Ican’tcarryatuneinawheelbarrow.“Well,I’mgladyoudidn’thavetoworktoday,”ItoldMargo.“Me,too,”Margosighed.“Dadalwaysgivesmetheworstjobs.Youknow.Clearingtables.Orputtingawaydishes.Orwrappingupgarbagebags.Yuck.”Shestartedsingingagain—andthenstopped.Shesatuponthebed.“Amy,I

Shestartedsingingagain—andthenstopped.Shesatuponthebed.“Amy,Ialmostforgot.Dadmayhaveajobforyou.”“Excuseme?”Ireplied.“Wrappingupgarbagebags?Idon’tthinkso,Margo.”“No.No.Listen,”Margopleadedexcitedlyinhermouselikevoice.“It’sagoodjob.Dadhasabunchofbirthdaypartiescomingup.Forteenytinykids.Youknow.Two-year-olds.Maybethree-orfour-year-olds.Andhethoughtyoucouldentertainthem.”“Huh?”Istaredatmyfriend.Istilldidn’tunderstand.“Youmean,singorsomething?”“No.WithDennis,”Margoexplained.Shetwistedalockofhairaroundinherfingersandbobbedherheadintimetothemusicasshetalked.“DadsawyouwithDennisatthesixth-gradetalentnight.Hewasreallyimpressed.”“Hewas?Iwasterriblethatnight!”Ireplied.“Well,Daddidn’tthinkso.Hewondersifyou’dliketocometothebirthdaypartiesandputonashowwithDennis.Thelittlekidswillloveit.Dadsaidhe’devenpayyou.”“Wow!That’scool!”Ireplied.Whatanexcitingidea.ThenIrememberedsomething.Ijumpedtomyfeet,crossedtheroomtothechair,andheldupDennis’shead.“Onesmallproblem,”Igroaned.Margoletgoofherhairandmadeasickface.“Hishead?Whydidyoutakeoffhishead?”“Ididn’t,”Ireplied.“Itfelloff.EverytimeIuseDennis,hisheadfallsoff.”“Oh.”Margoutteredadisappointedsigh.“Theheadlooksweirdallbyitself.Idon’tthinklittlekidswouldlikeitifitfelloff.”“Idon’tthinkso,”Iagreed.“Itmightfrightenthemorsomething,”Margosaid.“Youknow.Givethemnightmares.Makethemthinktheirownheadmightfalloff.”“Dennisistotallywrecked.Dadpromisedmeanewdummy.Buthehasn’tbeenabletofindone.”“Toobad,”Margoreplied.“You’dhavefunperformingforthekids.”WelistenedtomoreBeatlesmusic.ThenMargohadtogohome.

Afewminutesaftersheleft,Iheardthefrontdoorslam.“Hey,Amy!Amy—areyouhome?”IheardDadcallfromthelivingroom.“Coming!”Icalled.Imademywaytothefrontofthehouse.Dadstoodintheentryway,alongcartonunderhisarm,asmileonhisface.Hehandedthecartontome.“HappyUnbirthday!”heexclaimed.“Dad!Isit—?”Icried.Itoreopenthecarton.“Yes!”Anewdummy!Iliftedhimcarefullyoutofthecarton.Thedummyhadwavybrownhairpaintedontopofhiswoodenhead.Istudiedhisface.Itwaskindofstrange.Kindofintense.Hiseyeswerebrightblue—notfadedlikeDennis’s.Hehadbrightredpaintedlips,curvedupintoaneeriesmile.Hislowerliphadachipononesidesothatitdidn’tquitematchtheotherlip.AsIpulledhimfromthebox,thedummyappearedtostareintomyeyes.Theeyessparkled.Thegringrewwider.Ifeltasuddenchill.Whydoesthisdummyseemtobelaughingatme?Iwondered.Iheldhimup,examininghimcarefully.Heworeagray,double-breastedsuitoverawhiteshirtcollar.Thecollarwasstapledtohisneck.Hedidn’thaveashirt.Instead,hiswoodenchesthadbeenpaintedwhite.Big,blackleathershoeswereattachedtotheendsofhisthin,danglinglegs.“Dad—he’sgreat!”Iexclaimed.“Ifoundhiminapawnshop,”Dadsaid,pickingupthedummy’shandandpretendingtoshakehandswithit.“Howdoyoudo,Slappy.”“Slappy?Isthathisname?”“That’swhatthemaninthestoresaid,”Dadreplied.HeliftedSlappy’sarms,examininghissuit.“Idon’tknowwhyhesoldSlappysocheaply.Hepracticallygavethedummyaway!”Iturnedthedummyaroundandlookedforthestringinhisbackthatmadethemouthopenandclose.“He’sexcellent,Dad,”Isaid.Ikissedmydadonthecheek.“Thanks.”“Doyoureallylikehim?”Dadasked.Slappygrinnedupatme.Hisblueeyesstaredintomine.Heseemedtobe

Slappygrinnedupatme.Hisblueeyesstaredintomine.Heseemedtobewaitingforananswer,too.“Yes.He’sawesome!”Isaid.“Ilikehisseriouseyes.Theylooksoreal.”“Theeyesmove,”Dadsaid.“They’renotpaintedonlikeDennis’s.Theydon’tblink,buttheymovefromsidetoside.”Ireachedmyhandinsidethedummy’sback.“Howdoyoumakehiseyesmove?”Iasked.“Themanshowedme,”Dadsaid.“It’snothard.Firstyougrabthestringthatworksthemouth.”“I’vegotthat,”Itoldhim.“Thenyoumoveyourhandupintothedummy’shead.Thereisalittleleverupthere.Doyoufeelit?Pushonit.Theeyeswillmoveinthedirectionyoupush.”“Okay.I’lltry,”Isaid.SlowlyImovedmyhandupinsidethedummy’sback.Throughtheneck.Andintohishead.Istoppedandletoutastartledcryasmyhandhitsomethingsoft.Somethingsoftandwarm.Hisbrain!

5“Ohhh.”IutteredasickmoanandjerkedmyhandoutasfastasIcould.Icouldstillfeelthesoft,warmmushonmyfingers.“Amy—what’swrong?”Dadcried.“His—hisbrains—!”Ichokedout,feelingmystomachlurch.“Huh?Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Dadgrabbedthedummyfrommyhands.Heturneditoverandreachedintotheback.Icoveredmymouthwithbothhandsandwatchedhimreachintothehead.Hiseyeswidenedinsurprise.Hestruggledwithsomething.Thenpulledhishandout.“Yuck!”Igroaned.“What’sthat?”Dadstareddownatthemushy,greenandpurpleandbrownobjectinhishand.“Lookslikesomeoneleftasandwichinthere!”heexclaimed.Dad’swholefacetwistedindisgust.“It’sallmoldyandrotten.Musthavebeeninthereformonths!”“Yuck!”Irepeated,holdingmynose.“Itreallystinks!Whywouldsomeoneleaveasandwichinadummy’shead?”“Beatsme,”Dadreplied,shakinghishead.“Anditlooksliketherearewormholesinit!”“Yuuuuuck!”webothcriedinunison.DadhandedSlappybacktome.Thenhehurriedintothekitchentogetridoftherotted,moldysandwich.Iheardhimrunthegarbagedisposal.ThenIheardwaterrunningashewashedhishands.Afewsecondslater,Dadreturnedtothelivingroom,dryinghishandsonadishtowel.“Maybewe’dbetterexamineSlappyclosely,”hesuggested.“Wedon’twantanymoresurprises—dowe!”IcarriedSlappyintothekitchen,andwestretchedhimoutonthecounter.Dadexaminedthedummy’sshoescarefully.Theywereattachedtothelegsanddidn’tcomeoff.Iputmyfingeronthedummy’schinandmovedthemouthupanddown.ThenI

Iputmyfingeronthedummy’schinandmovedthemouthupanddown.ThenIcheckedouthiswoodenhands.Iunbuttonedthegraysuitjacketandstudiedthedummy’spaintedshirt.Patchesofthewhitepainthadchippedandcracked.Butitwasokay.“Everythinglooksfine,Dad,”Ireported.Henodded.Thenhesmelledhisfingers.Iguesshehadn’twashedawayallofthestinkfromtherottedsandwich.“We’dbetterspraytheinsideofhisheadwithdisinfectantorperfumeorsomething,”Dadsaid.Then,asIwasbuttoningupthejacket,somethingcaughtmyeye.Somethingyellow.Aslipofpaperpokingupfromthejacketpocket.It’sprobablyasalesreceipt,Ithought.ButwhenIpulledoutthesmallsquareofyellowpaper,Ifoundstrangewritingonit.WeirdwordsinalanguageI’dneverseenbefore.Isquintedhardatthepaperandslowlyreadthewordsoutloud:“Karrumarriodonnalomamolonukarrano.”Iwonderwhatthatmeans?Ithought.AndthenIglanceddownatSlappy’sface.Andsawhisredlipstwitch.Andsawoneeyeslowlycloseinawink.

6“D-d-dad!”Istuttered.“He—moved!”“Huh?”Dadhadgonebacktothesinktowashhishandsforathirdtime.“What’swrongwiththedummy?”“Hemoved!”Icried.“Hewinkedatme!”Dadcameovertothecounter,wipinghishands.“Itoldyou,Amy—hecan’tblink.Theeyesonlymovefromsidetoside.”“No!”Iinsisted.“Hewinked.Hislipstwitched,andhewinked.”Dadfrownedandpickedupthedummyheadinbothhands.Heraisedittoexamineit.“Well...maybetheeyelidsareloose,”hesaid.“I’llseeifIcantightenthemup.MaybeifItakeascrewdriverIcan—“Daddidn’tfinishhissentence.BecausethedummyswunghiswoodenhandupandhitDadonthesideofthehead.“Ow!”Dadcried,droppingthedummybackontothecounter.Dadgrabbedhischeek.“Hey—stopit,Amy!Thathurt!”“Me?”Ishrieked.“Ididn’tdoit!”Dadglaredatme,rubbinghischeek.Ithadturnedbrightred.“Thedummydidit!”Iinsisted.“Ididn’ttouchhim,Dad!Ididn’tmovehishand!”“Notfunny,”Dadmuttered.“YouknowIdon’tlikepracticaljokes.”Iopenedmymouthtoanswer,butnowordscameout.IdecidedI’dbetterjustshutup.OfcourseDadwouldn’tbelievethatthedummyhadslappedhim.Ididn’tbelieveitmyself.Dadmusthavepulledtoohardwhenhewasexaminingthehead.Dadjerkedthehandupwithoutrealizingit.That’showIexplainedittomyself.Whatotherexplanationcouldtherebe?

IapologizedtoDad.ThenwewashedSlappy’sfacewithadampsponge.Wecleanedhimupandsprayeddisinfectantinsidehishead.Hewasstartingtolookprettygood.IthankedDadagainandhurriedtomyroom.IsetSlappydownonthechairbesideDennis.ThenIphonedMargo.“Igotanewdummy,”Itoldherexcitedly.“Icanperformforthekids’birthdayparties.AtThePartyHouse.”“That’sgreat,Amy!”Margoexclaimed.“Nowallyouneedisanact.”Shewasright.Ineededjokes.Alotofjokes.IfIwasgoingtoperformwithSlappyinfrontofdozensofkids,Ineededalongcomedyact.Thenextdayafterschool,Ihurriedtothelibrary.ItookouteveryjokebookIcouldfind.Icarriedthemhomeandstudiedthem.IwrotedownallthejokesIthoughtIcouldusewithSlappy.Afterdinner,Ishouldhavebeendoingmyhomework.Instead,IpracticedwithSlappy.Isatinfrontofthemirrorandwatchedmyselfwithhim.Itriedhardtospeakclearlybutnotmovemylips.AndItriedhardtomoveSlappy’smouthsothatitreallylookedasifheweretalking.Workinghismouthandmovinghiseyesatthesametimewasprettyhard.Butafterawhile,itbecameeasier.Itriedsomeknock-knockjokeswithSlappy.Ithoughtlittlekidsmightlikethose.“Knockknock,”ImadeSlappysay.“Who’sthere?”Iaskedhim,staringintohiseyesasifIwerereallytalkingtohim.“Jane,”Slappysaid.“Janewho?”“Janejerclothes.Youstink!”Ipracticedeachjokeoverandover,watchingmyselfinthemirror.Iwantedtobeareallygoodventriloquist.Iwantedtobeexcellent.IwantedtobeasgoodwithSlappyasSaraiswithherpaints.Ipracticedsomemoreknock-knockjokesandsomejokesaboutanimals.JokesI

Ipracticedsomemoreknock-knockjokesandsomejokesaboutanimals.JokesIthoughtlittlekidswouldfindfunny.I’lltrythemoutonFamilySharingNight,Idecided.ItwillmakeDadhappytoseehowhardI’mworkingwithSlappy.AtleastIknowSlappy’sheadwon’tfalloff.IglancedacrosstheroomatDennis.Helookedsosadandforlorn,crumpledinthechair,hisheadtiltednearlysidewaysonhisshoulders.ThenIproppedSlappyupandturnedbacktothemirror.“Knockknock.”“Who’sthere?”“Wayne.”“Waynewho?”“Waynewayne,goaway!Comeagainanotherday!”OnThursdaynight,IwasactuallyeagertofinishdinnersothatSharingNightcouldbegin.Icouldn’twaittoshowmyfamilymynewactwithSlappy.Wehadspaghettifordinner.Ilikespaghetti,butJedalwaysruinsit.He’ssogross.Hesatacrossthetablefromme,andhekeptopeninghismouthwide,showingmeamouthfullofchewed-upspaghetti.Thenhe’dlaughbecausehecrackshimselfup.Andspaghettisaucewouldrundownhischin.Bythetimedinnerwasover,Jedhadspaghettisaucesmearedalloverhisfaceandalloverthetableclotharoundhisplate.Nooneseemedtonotice.MomandDadweretoobusylisteningtoSarabragabouthergrades.Forachange.Reportcardswerebeinghandedouttomorrow.SarawassureshewasgettingallA’s.Iwassure,too.SureIwasn’tgettingallA’s!I’dbeluckytogetaCinmath.Ireallymessedupthelasttwotests.AndIprobablywasn’tgoingtodorealwellinscience,either.Myweatherballoonprojectfellapart,soIhadn’thandeditinyet.Ifinishedmyspaghettiandmoppedupsomeoftheleftoversauceonmyplate

Ifinishedmyspaghettiandmoppedupsomeoftheleftoversauceonmyplatewithachunkofbread.WhenIglancedup,Jedhadstucktwocarrotsticksinhisnose.“Amy,checkthisout.I’mawalrus!”hecried,grinning.Heletoutafewurkurksandclappedhishandstogetherlikeawalrus.“Jed—stopthat!”Momcriedsharply.Shemadeadisgustedface.“Getthoseoutofyournose.”“Makehimeatthem,Mom!”Icried.Jedstuckhistongueoutatme.Itwasorangefromthespaghettisauce.“Lookatyou.You’reamess!”MomshoutedatJed.“Gogetcleanedup.Now!Hurry!Washallthatsauceoffyourface.”Jedgroaned.Butheclimbedtohisfeetandheadedtothebathroom.“Didheeatanything?Ordidhejustrubitalloverhimself?”Dadasked,rollinghiseyes.Dadhadsomesauceonhischin,too,butIdidn’tsayanything.“Youinterruptedme,”Sarasaidimpatiently.“IwastellingyouabouttheStateArtContest.Remember?Isentmyflowerpaintinginforthat?”“Oh,yes,”Momreplied.“Haveyouheardfromthejudges?”Ididn’tlistentoSara’sreply.Mymindwandered.Istartedthinkingagainabouthowbadmyreportcardwasgoingtobe.Ihadtoforcemyselftostopthinkingaboutit.“Uh...I’llclearthedishes,”Iannounced.Istartedtostandup.ButIstoppedwithastartledcrywhenIsawtheshortfigurecreepintothelivingroom.Adummy!Mydummy.Hewascrawlingacrosstheroom!

7Iletoutanothercry.Ipointedtothelivingroomwithatremblingfinger.“M-mom!Dad!”Istammered.Sarawasstilltalkingabouttheartcompetition.Butsheturnedtoseewhateveryonewasgapingat.Thedummy’sheadpoppedoutfrombehindthearmchair.“It’sDennis!”Icried.Iheardmuffledlaughter.Jed’smuffledlaughter.Thedummyreachedupbothhandsandpulledoffhisownhead.AndJed’sheadpoppedupthroughthegreenturtleneck.Hestillhadspaghettisaucesmearedonhischeeks.Hewaslaughinghard.Everyoneelsestartedtolaugh,too.Everyonebutme.Jedhadreallyfrightenedme.Hehadpulledtheneckofhissweaterwayupoverhishead.ThenhehadtuckedDennis’swoodenheadinsidetheturtleneck.Jedwassoshortandthin.ItreallylookedasifDenniswerecreepingintotheroom.“Stoplaughing!”Ishoutedatmyfamily.“Itisn’tfunny!”“Ithinkit’sveryfunny!”Momcried.“Whatacrazythingtothinkof!”“Veryclever,”Dadadded.“It’snotclever,”Iinsisted.Iglaredfuriouslyatmybrother.“Ialwaysknewyouwereadummy!”Iscreamedathim.“Amy,youreallywerescared,”Saraaccused.“Younearlydroppedyourteeth!”“Nottrue!”Isputtered.“IknewitwasDennis—Imean—Jed!”Noweveryonestartedlaughingatwe!Icouldfeelmyfacegettinghot,andIknewIwasblushing.Thatmadethemalllaughevenharder.Nicefamily,huh?Iclimbedtomyfeet,walkedaroundthetable,andtookDennis’sheadawayfromJed.“Don’tgoinmyroom,”Itoldhimthroughclenchedteeth.“Anddon’tmesswithmystuff.”Istompedawaytoputthedummyheadbackinmyroom.

messwithmystuff.”Istompedawaytoputthedummyheadbackinmyroom.“Itwasjustajoke,Amy,”IheardSaracallafterme.“Yeah.Itwasjustajoke,”Jedrepeatednastily.“Ha-ha!”Ishoutedbackatthem.“Whatariot!”MyangerhadfadedawaybythetimewestartedFamilySharingNight.Wesettledinthelivingroom,takingourusualplaces.Momvolunteeredtogofirst.Shetoldafunnystoryaboutsomethingthathadhappenedatwork.Momworksinafancywomen’sclothingstoredowntown.Shetoldusaboutareallybigwomanwhocameintothestoreandinsistedontryingononlytinysizes.Thewomanrippedeverypieceofclothingshetriedon—andthenboughtthemall!“They’renotforme,”thewomanexplained.“They’reformysister!”Wealllaughed.ButIwassurprisedMomtoldthatstory.BecauseMomisprettychubby.Andshe’sverysensitiveaboutit.AboutassensitiveasDadisaboutbeingbald.Dadwasthenexttoshare.Hebroughtouthisguitar,andweallgroaned.Dadthinkshe’sagreatsinger.Buthe’snearlyastonedeafasIam.Helovessingingalltheseoldfolksongsfromthesixties.There’ssupposedtobesomekindofmessageinthem.ButSara,Jed,andIhavenoideawhathe’ssingingabout.DadstrummedawayandsangsomethingaboutnotworkingonMaggie’sfarmanymore.Atleast,Ithinkthat’swhathewassaying.Weallclappedandcheered.ButDadknewwedidn’treallymeanit.ItwasJed’sturnnext.Butheinsistedthathehadalreadyshared.“DressinguplikeDennis—thatwasit,”hesaid.Noonewantedtoarguewithhim.“Yourturn,Amy,”Momsaid,leaningagainstDadonthecouch.Dadfiddledwithhisglasses,thensettledback.IpickedupSlappyandarrangedhimonmylap.Iwasfeelingalittlenervous.Iwantedtodoagoodjobandimpressthemwithmynewcomedyact.I’dbeenpracticingallweek,andIknewthejokesbyheart.ButasIslippedmy

I’dbeenpracticingallweek,andIknewthejokesbyheart.ButasIslippedmyhandintoSlappy’sbackandfoundthestring,mystomachfeltallfluttery.Iclearedmythroatandbegan.“ThisisSlappy,everyone,”Isaid.“Slappy,sayhitomyfamily.”“Hitomyfamily!”ImadeSlappysay.Imadehiseyesslidebackandforth.Theyallchuckled.“Thisdummyismuchbetter!”Momcommented.“Butit’sthesameoldventriloquist,”Sarasaidcruelly.Iglaredather.“Justjoking!Justjoking!”mysisterinsisted.“Ithinkthatdummyreeks,”Jedchimedin.“GiveAmyabreak,”Dadsaidsharply.“Goahead,Amy.”Iclearedmythroatagain.Itsuddenlyfeltverydry.“SlappyandIaregoingtotellsomeknock-knockjokes,”Iannounced.IturnedtofaceSlappyandmadehimturnhisheadtome.“Knockknock,”Isaid.“Knockitoff!”cametheharshreply.SlappyspunaroundtofacemyMom.“Hey—don’tbreakthesofa,fatso!”herasped.“Whydon’tyouskiptheFrenchfriesandhaveasaladonceinawhile?”“Huh?”Momgaspedinshock.“Amy—““Amy,that’snotfunny!”Dadcriedangrily.“What’syourproblem,baldy?”Slappyshouted.“Isthatyourhead—orareyouhatchinganostricheggonyourneck?”“That’senough,Amy!”Dadcried,jumpingtohisfeet.“Stopit—rightnow!”“But—but—Dad—!”Isputtered.“Whydon’tyouputanextraholeinyourheadanduseitforabowlingball?”SlappyscreamedatDad.“Yourjokesarehorrible!”Momexclaimed.“They’rehurtfulandinsulting.”“It’snotfunny,Amy!”Dadfumed.“It’snotfunnytohurtpeople’sfeelings.”“But,Dad—“Ireplied.“Ididn’tsayanyofthat!Itwasn’tme!ItwasSlappy!Really!Iwasn’tsayingit!Iwasn’t!”Slappyraisedhishead.Hisred-lippedgrinappearedtospread.Hisblueeyes

Slappyraisedhishead.Hisred-lippedgrinappearedtospread.Hisblueeyessparkled.“DidImentionyouareallugly?”heasked.

8Everyonestartedshoutingatonce.IstoodupanddroppedSlappyfacedownonthearmchair.Mylegsweretrembling.Myentirebodywasshaking.What’sgoingonhere?Iaskedmyself.Ididn’tsaythosethings.Ireallydidn’t.ButSlappycan’tbetalkingonhisown—canhe?Ofcoursenot,Irealized.Butwhatdidthatmean?DidthatmeanIwassayingthosehorrible,insultingthingstomyparentswithoutevenknowingit?MomandDadstoodsidebyside,staringatmeangrily,demandingtoknowwhyIinsultedthem.“Didyoureallythinkthatwasfunny?”Momasked.“Didn’tyouthinkitwouldhurtmyfeelingstocallmefatso?”Meanwhile,Jedwassprawledonhisbackinthemiddleofthefloor,gigglinglikeamoron.Hethoughtthewholethingwasariot.Sarasatcross-leggedagainstthewall,shakingherhead,herblackhairfallingoverherface.“You’reinmajortrouble,”shemuttered.“What’syourproblem,Amy?”IturnedtoMomandDad.Myhandswereballedintotightfists.Icouldn’tstopshaking.“You’vegottobelieveme!”Ishrieked.“Ididn’tsaythosethings!Ireallydidn’t!”“Yeah.Right.Slappyisabaaaddude!”Jedchimedin,grinning.“Everybody,justbequiet!”Dadscreamed.Hisfaceturnedbrightred.Momsqueezedhisarm.Shedidn’tlikeitwhenhegottooangryorexcited.Iguesssheworriedhemighttotallyexplodeorsomething.Dadcrossedhisarmsinfrontofhischest.Isawthathehadasweatstainonthechestofhispoloshirt.Hisfacewasstillred.Theroomsuddenlyfellsilent.“Amy,we’renotgoingtobelieveyou,”Dadsaidsoftly.“But—but—but—“

“But—but—but—“Heraisedahandtosilenceme.“You’reawonderfulstoryteller,Amy,”Dadcontinued.“Youmakeupwonderfulfantasiesandfairytales.Butwe’renotgoingtobelievethisone.I’msorry.We’renotgoingtobelievethatyourdummyspokeuponhisown.”“Buthedid!”Iscreamed.Ifeltlikeburstingoutinsobs.Ibitmyliphard,tryingtoforcethemback.Dadshookhishead.“No,Slappydidn’tinsultus.Yousaidthosethings,Amy.Youdid.AndnowIwantyoutoapologizetoyourmotherandme.ThenIwantyoutotakeyourdummyandgotoyourroom.”Therewasnowaythey’deverbelieveme.Noway.Iwasn’tsureIbelieveditmyself.“Sorry,”Imuttered,stillholdingbackthetears.“Really.I’msorry.”Withanunhappysigh,IliftedSlappyoffthechair.Icarriedhimaroundthewaistsothathisarmsandlegsdangledtowardthefloor.“Goodnight,”Isaid.Iwalkedslowlytowardmyroom.“Whataboutmyturn?”IheardSaraask.“SharingNightisover,”Dadrepliedgrumpily.“Youtwo—getlost.Leaveyourmomandmealone.”Dadsoundedreallyupset.Ididn’tblamehim.Isteppedintomyroomandclosedthedoorbehindme.ThenIliftedSlappyup,holdinghimundertheshoulders.Iraisedhisfacetomine.Hiseyesseemedtostareintomyface.Suchcoldblueeyes,Ithought.Hisbrightredlipscurledupintothatsmirkinggrin.Thesmilesuddenlyseemedevil.Mocking.AsifSlappywerelaughingatme.Butofcoursethatwasimpossible.Mywildimaginationwasplayingtricksonme,Idecided.Frighteningtricks.Slappywasjustadummy,afterall.Justahunkofpaintedwood.

Slappywasjustadummy,afterall.Justahunkofpaintedwood.Istaredhardintothosecoldblueeyes.“Slappy,lookatallthetroubleyoucausedmetonight,”Itoldhim.Thursdaynighthadbeenawful.Totallyawful.ButFridayturnedouttobemuchworse.

9FirstIdroppedmytrayinthelunchroom.Thetrayswereallwet,andminejustslippedoutofmyhand.Theplatesclatteredonthefloor,andmylunchspilledallovermynewwhitesneakers.Everyoneinthelunchroomclappedandcheered.WasIembarrassed?Takethreeguesses.Laterthatafternoon,reportcardswerehandedout.Saracamehomegrinningandsinging.Nothingmakeshermorehappythanbeingperfect.Andherreportcardwasperfect.AllA’s.Sheinsistedonshowingittomethreetimes.SheshowedittoJedthreetimes,too.Andwebothhadtotellherhowwonderfulshewaseachtime.I’mbeingunfairtoSara.Shewashappyandexcited.Andshehadarighttobe.Herreportcardwasperfect—andherflowerpaintingwontheblueribbonintheStateArtContest.SoIshouldn’tblameherfordancingaroundthehouseandsingingatthetopofherlungs.Shewasn’ttryingtorubitin.Shewasn’ttryingtomakemefeellikealowlyslugbecausemyreportcardhadtwoC’s.Oneinmathandoneinscience.Itwasn’tSara’sfaultthatIhadreceivedmyworstreportcardever.SoItriedtoholdbackmyjealousfeelingsandnotstrangleherthetenthtimeshetoldmeabouttheartprize.Butitwasn’teasy.Theworstpartofmyreportcardwasn’tthetwoC’s.ItwasthelittlenoteMissCarsonwroteatthebottom.Itsaid:Amyisn’tworkingtothebestofherability.Ifsheworkedharder,shecoulddomuchbetterthanthis.Idon’tthinkteachersshouldbeallowedtowritenotesonreportcards.Ithinkgettinggradesisbadenough.ItriedtomakeupsomekindofstorytoexplainthetwoC’stomyparents.IplannedtotellthemthateveryoneintheclassgotC’sinmathandscience.“MissCarsondidn’thavetimetogradeourpapers.SoshegaveusallC’s—justtobefair.”Itwasagoodstory.Butnotagreatstory.

Itwasagoodstory.Butnotagreatstory.NowayMomandDadwouldbuythatone.Ipacedbackandforthinmyroom,tryingtothinkofabetterstory.Afterawhile,InoticedSlappystaringatme.HesatinthechairbesideDennis,grinningandstaring.Slappy’seyesweren’tfollowingmeasIpaced—werethey?Ifeltachillrundownmyback.Itreallyseemedasiftheeyeswerewatchingme,movingasImoved.IdartedtothechairandturnedSlappysothathisbackwastome.Ididn’thavetimetothinkaboutastupiddummy.Myparentswouldbehomefromworkanyminute.AndIneededagoodstorytoexplainmyawfulreportcard.DidIcomeupwithone?No.Weremyparentsupset?Yes.Momsaidshewouldhelpmegetbetterorganized.Dadsaidhewouldhelpmeunderstandmymathproblems.ThelasttimeDadhelpedmewithmymath,Inearlyflunked!EvenJed—thetotalgoof-off—gotabetterreportcardthanme.Theydon’tgivegradesinthelowerschool.Theteacherjustwritesareportaboutyou.AndJed’sreportsaidthathewasagreatkidandareallygoodstudent.Thatteachermustbesick!IstaredatJedacrossthedinnertable.Heopenedhismouthwidetoshowmeamouthfullofchewed-uppeas.Sick!“Youreek,”hesaidtome.Fornoreasonatall.SometimesIwonderwhyfamilieswereinvented.Saturdaymorning,IcalledMargo.“Ican’tcomeover,”Itoldherwithasigh.“Myparentswon’tletme.”“Myreportcardwasn’ttoogood,either,”Margoreplied.“MissCarsonwroteanoteatthebottom.ShesaidItalktoomuchinclass.”“MissCarsontalkstoomuch,”Isaidbitterly.

AsIchattedwithMargo,Istaredatmyselfinthedressermirror.IlooktoomuchlikeSara,Ithought.WhydoIhavetolooklikehertwin?MaybeI’llcutmyhairreallyshort.Orgetatattoo.Iwasn’tthinkingtooclearly.Iwastooangrythatmyparentsweren’tallowingmetogoovertoMargo’shouse.“Thisisbadnews,”Margosaid.“IwantedtotalktoyouaboutperformingwithSlappyatmydad’splace.”“Iknow,”Irepliedsadly.“Butthey’renotlettingmegoanywhereuntilmyscienceprojectisfinished.”“Youstillhaven’tturnedthatin?”Margodemanded.“Ikindofforgotaboutit,”Iconfessed.“Ididtheprojectpart—forthesecondtime.Ijusthavetowritethereport.”“Well,Itoldyou,Daddyhasabirthdaypartyforadozenthree-year-oldsnextSaturday,”Margosaid.“AndhewantsyouandSlappytoentertainthem.”“AssoonasIfinishthesciencereport,I’mgoingtostartrehearsing,”Ipromised.“Tellyourdadnottoworry,Margo.TellhimI’llbegreat.”Wechattedforafewmoreminutes.Thenmymomshoutedformetogetoffthephone.Italkedforalittlewhilelonger—untilMomshoutedasecondtime.ThenIsaidgood-byetoMargoandhungup.Islavedovermycomputerallmorningandmostoftheafternoon.AndIfinishedthesciencereport.Itwasn’teasy.Jedkeptcomingintomyroom,beggingmetoplayaNintendogamewithhim.“Justone!”AndIhadtokeeptossinghimout.WhenIfinallyfinishedwritingthepaper,Iprinteditoutandreaditonemoretime.Ithoughtitwasprettygood.Whatitneedsisareallygreat-lookingcover,Idecided.Iwantedtogetabunchofcoloredmarkersanddoareallybrightcover.Butmymarkerswerealldriedup.ItossedthemintothetrashandmademywaytoSara’sroom.Iknewthatshehadanentiredrawerfilledwithcoloredmarkers.Sarawasatthemallwithabunchofherfriends.MissPerfectcouldgooutandspendSaturdaydoingwhatevershewanted.Becauseshewasperfect.

spendSaturdaydoingwhatevershewanted.Becauseshewasperfect.Iknewshewouldn’tmindifIborrowedafewmarkers.Jedstoppedmeoutsideherdoor.“OnegameofBattleChess!”hepleaded.“Justonegame!”“Noway,”Itoldhim.Iplacedmyhandontopofhishead.Hisred,curlyhairfeltsosoft.Ipushedhimoutofmyway.“YoualwaysmurdermeatBattleChess.AndI’mnotfinishedwithmyworkyet.”“WhyareyougoinginSara’sroom?”hedemanded.“Noneofyourbusiness,”Itoldhim.“Youreek,”hesaid.“Youdoublereek,Amy.”IignoredhimandmademywayintoSara’sroomtoborrowthemarkers.Ispentnearlyanhourmakingthecover.Ifilleditwithmoleculesandatoms,allindifferentcolors.MissCarsonwillbeimpressed,Idecided.SarareturnedhomejustasIfinished.Shewascarryingabigshoppingbagfilledwithclothesshe’dboughtatBananaRepublic.Shestartedtoherroomwiththebag.“Mom—comeseewhatIbought,”shecalled.Momappeared,carryingastackoffreshlylaunderedtowels.“CanIsee,too?”Icalled.IfollowedthemtoSara’sroom.ButSarastoppedatherdoor.Thebagfellfromherhand.Andsheletoutascream.MomandIcrowdedbehindher.Wepeeredintothebedroom.Whatamess!Someonehadoverturnedaboutadozenjarsofpaint.Reds,yellows,blues.ThepainthadspreadoverSara’swhitecarpet,likeabig,colorfulmudpuddle.Igaspedandblinkedseveraltimes.Itwasunreal!“Idon’tbelieveit!”Sarakeptshrieking.“Idon’tbelieveit!”“Thecarpetisruined!”Momexclaimed,takingonestepintotheroom.Theemptiedpaintjarswereontheirsides,strewnaroundtheroom.

“Jed!”Momshoutedangrily.“Jed—getinhere!Now!”WeturnedtoseeJedrightbehindusinthehall.“Youdon’thavetoshout,”hesaidsoftly.Momnarrowedhereyesangrilyatmybrother.“Jed—howcouldyou?”shedemandedthroughclenchedteeth.“Excuseme?”Hegazedupatherinnocently.“Jed—don’tlie!”Sarascreamed.“Didyoudothis?Didyougoinmyroomagain?”“Noway!”Jedprotested,shakinghishead.“Ididn’tgoinyourroomtoday,Sara.Notonce.ButIsawAmygoin.Andshewouldn’ttellmewhy.”

10SaraandMombothturnedaccusingeyesonme.“Howcouldyou?”Sarascreamed,walkingaroundthebigpaintpuddle.“Howcouldyou?”“Whoa!Wait!Ididn’t!Ididn’t!”Icriedfrantically.“IaskedAmywhyshewasgoinginhere,”Jedchimedin.“Andshesaiditwasnoneofmybusiness.”“Amy!”Momcried.“I’mhorrified.I’mtrulyhorrified.This—thisissick!”“Yes,it’ssick,”Sararepeated,shakingherhead.“Allofmyposterpaint.Allofit.Whatamess.Iknowwhyyoudidit.It’sbecauseyou’rejealousofmyperfectreportcard.”“ButIdidn’tdoit!”Iwailed.“Ididn’t!Ididn’t!Ididn’t!”“Amy—nooneelsecouldhave,”Momreplied.“IfJeddidn’tdoit,then—““ButIonlycameinheretoborrowmarkers!”Icriedinatremblingvoice.“That’sall.Ineededmarkers.”“Amy—“Momstarted,pointingtothehugepaintpuddle.“I’llshowyou!”Icried.“I’llshowyouwhatIborrowed.”Irantomyroom.MyhandswereshakingasIscoopedSara’smarkersoffmydesk.Myheartpounded.Howcouldtheyaccusemeofsomethingsoterrible?Iaskedmyself.Isthatwhateveryonethinksofme?ThatI’msuchamonster?ThatI’msojealousofmysister,I’dpouroutallherpaintsandruinherrug?DotheyreallythinkI’mcrazy?IranbacktoSara’sroom,carryingthemarkersinbothhands.JedsatonSara’sbed,staringdownatthethickred,blue,andyellowpuddle.MomandSarastoodoverit,gazingdownandshakingtheirheads.Momkeptmakingcluckingnoiseswithhertongue.Shekeptpressingherhandsagainsthercheeks.“Here!See?”Icried.Ishovedthemarkerstowardthem.“That’swhyIcameinhere.I’mnotlying!”Someofthemarkersfelloutofmyhands.Ibenttopickthemup.

Someofthemarkersfelloutofmyhands.Ibenttopickthemup.“Amy,therewereonlythreeofushomethisafternoon,”Momsaid.Shewastryingtokeephervoicelowandcalm.Butshespokethroughgrittedteeth.“You,me,andJed.”“Iknow—“Istarted.Momraisedahandtosilenceme.“Icertainlydidn’tdothishorriblething,”Momcontinued.“AndJedsaysthathedidn’tdoit.So...”Hervoicetrailedoff.“Mom—I’mnotasicko!”Ishrieked.“I’mnot!”“You’llfeelbetterifyouconfess,”Momsaid.“Thenwecantalkaboutthiscalmly,and—““ButIdidn’tdoit!”Iraged.Withacryofanger,Iflungthemarkerstothefloor.ThenIspunaround,boltedfromSara’sroom,andrandownthelonghalltomyroom.Islammedthedoorandthrewmyselffacedownontomybed.Istartedsobbingloudly.Idon’tknowhowlongIcried.Finally,Istoodup.Myfacewassoppingwet,andmynosewasrunning.Istartedtothedressertogetatissue.Butsomethingcaughtmyeye.Hadn’tIturnedSlappyaroundsothathisbackwasturnedtome?Nowhewassittingfacingme,staringupatme,hisred-lippedgrinwiderthanever.DidIturnhimbackaround?DidI?Ididn’tremember.AndwhatdidIseeonSlappy’sshoes?Iwipedthetearsfrommyeyeswiththebacksofmyhands.ThenItookafewstepstowardthedummy,squintinghardathisbigleathershoes.Whatwasthatonhisshoes?Redandblueandyellow...paint?Yes.Withastartledgasp,Igrabbedbothshoesbytheheelsandraisedthemclosetomyface.

Yes.DripsofpaintonSlappy’sshoes.“Slappy—whatisgoingonhere?”Iaskedoutloud.“Whatisgoingon?”

11WhenDadcamehomeandsawSara’sroom,henearlyexploded.Iwasactuallyworriedabouthim.Hisfaceturnedasredasatomato.Hischeststartedheavinginandout.Andhorriblegurglingnoisescameupfromhisthroat.Thewholefamilygatheredinthelivingroom.WetookourSharingNightplaces.Only,thiswasn’tFamilySharingNight.ThiswasWhatAreWeGoingToDoAboutAmyNight.“Amy,firstyouhavetotellusthetruth,”Momsaid.Shesatstifflyonthecouch,squeezingherhandstogetherinherlap.Dadsatontheotherendofthecouch,tappingonehandnervouslyagainstthecoucharm,chewinghislowerlip.JedandSarasatontheflooragainstthewall.“Iamtellingthetruth,”Iinsistedshrilly.Islumpedinthearmchairacrossfromthem.Myhairfellovermyforehead,butIdidn’tbothertobrushitback.MywhiteT-shirthadtearstainsonthefront,stilldamp.“Ifyouwouldonlylistentome,”Ipleaded.”“Okay,we’relistening,”Momreplied.“WhenIwentintomyroom,”Istarted,“thereweresplashesofpaintonSlappy’sshoes.And—““Enough!”Dadcried,jumpingtohisfeet.“But,Dad—“Iprotested.“Enough!”heinsisted.Hepointedafingeratme.“Nomorewildstories,younglady.Storytimeisover.Wedon’twanttohearaboutpaintstainsonSlappy.WewantanexplanationforthecrimethatwascommittedinSara’sroomtoday.”“ButIamgivinganexplanation!”Iwailed.“WhydidSlappyhavepaintonhisshoes?Why?”Daddroppedbackontothecouchwithasigh.HewhisperedsomethingtoMom.Shewhisperedback.IthoughtIheardthemmentiontheword“doctor.”“Areyou—areyougoingtotakemetoapsychiatrist?”Iaskedtimidly.“Doyouthinkyouneedone?”Momreplied,staringhardatme.Ishookmyhead.“No.”

“YourfatherandIwilltalkaboutthis,”Momsaid.“Wewillfigureoutthebestthingtodo.”Thebestthingtodo?Theygroundedmefortwoweeks.Nomovies.Nofriendsover.Notripstothemall.Notripsanywhere.Iheardthemtalkingaboutfindingmeacounselor.Buttheydidn’tsayanythingaboutittome.Allweek,Icouldfeelthemwatchingme.StudyingmeasifIweresomekindofaliencreature.Sarawasprettycoldtome.Herroomhadtobeemptiedoutandanewruginstalled.Shewasn’thappyaboutit.EvenJedtreatedmedifferently.Hekindoftiptoedaroundmeandkepthisdistance,asifIhadabadcoldorsomething.Hedidn’tteaseme,ortellmethatIreek,orcallmenames.Ireallymissedit.Nokidding.HowdidIfeel?Ifeltmiserable.Iwantedtogetsick.Iwantedtocatchareallybadstomachfluorsomethingsothey’dallfeelsorryformeandstoptreatingmelikeacriminal.Onegoodthing:TheysaidIcouldperformwithSlappyatThePartyHouseonSaturday.WheneverIpickedSlappyup,Ifeltalittleweird.Irememberedthepaintonhisshoesandthemessinmysister’sroom.ButIcouldn’tcomeupwithonesingleexplanation.SoIpracticedwithSlappyeverynight.Ihadputalotofgoodjokestogether.SillyjokesIthoughtlittlethree-year-oldswouldfindfunny.AndIstudiedmyselfinthemirror.Iwasgettingbetteratnotmovingmylips.AnditwasgettingeasiertomakeSlappy’smouthandeyesmovecorrectly.“Knockknock,”ImadeSlappysay.“Who’sthere?”Iasked.“Eddie.”“Eddiewho?”Iasked.

“Eddiewho?”Iasked.“Eddie-bodygotatissue?Ihabateddiblecold!”AndthenIpulledbackSlappy’shead,openedhismouthreallywide,andjerkedhiswholebodyasImadehimsneezeandsneezeandsneeze.Ithoughtthatwouldreallycrackupthethree-year-olds.Everynight,Iworkedandworkedonourcomedyact.Iworkedsohard.Ididn’tknowthattheactwouldnevergoon.OnSaturdayafternoon,MomdroppedmeoffatThePartyHouse.“Haveagoodshow!”shecalledasshedroveaway.IcarriedSlappycarefullyinmyarms.Margometmeatthedoor.Shegreetedmewithanexcitedsmile.“Justintime!”shecried.“Thekidsarealmostallhere.They’retotalanimals!”“Oh,great!”Imuttered,rollingmyeyes.“They’retotalanimals,butthey’resocute!”Margoadded.Sheledmethroughthetwistinghallwaytothepartyroominback.Clustersofredandyellowballoonscoveredtheceiling.Isawabrightlydecoratedtable,allyellowandred.Aballoononastringfloatedupfromeachchairaroundthetable.Eachballoonhadthenameofaguestonit.Thekidsreallywerecute.TheyweredressedmostlyinjeansandbrightTshirts.Twoofthegirlsworefrillypartydresses.Icountedtenofthem,allrunningwildly,chasingeachotherinthehugeroom.Theirmothersweregroupedaroundalongtableagainstthebackwall.Someofthemweresittingdown.Somewerestanding,huddledtogether,chatting.Somewerecallingtotheirkidstostopbeingsowild.“I’mhelpingout,pouringthepunchandstuff,”Margotoldme.“Dadwantsyoutodoyouractfirstthing.Youknow.Toquietthekidsdown.”Iswallowedhard.“Firstthing,huh?”Ihadbeenexcited.Icouldbarelychokedownmytunafishsandwichatlunch.ButnowIbegantofeelnervous.Ihadmajorflutteringinmystomach.Margoledmetothefrontoftheroom.Isawalowwoodenplatformthere,paintedbrightblue.Thatwasthestage.Seeingthestagemademyheartstarttopound.Mymouthsuddenlyfeltverydry.

Seeingthestagemademyheartstarttopound.Mymouthsuddenlyfeltverydry.CouldIreallystepuponthatstageanddomyactinfrontofallthesepeople?Kidsandmothers?Ihadforgottenthatthemotherswouldallbethere.Seeingadultsintheaudiencemademeevenmorenervous.“Hereisthebirthdaygirl,”awoman’svoicesaid.Iturnedtoseeasmilingmother.Sheheldthehandofabeautifullittlegirl.Thegirlgazedupatmewithsparklingblueeyes.Shehadstraightblackhair,alotlikemine,onlysilkierandfiner.Shehadabrightyellowribboninherhair.Itmatchedhershortyellowpartydressandyellowsneakers.“ThisisAlicia,”themotherannounced.“Hi.I’mAmy,”Ireplied.“Aliciawouldliketomeetyourdummy,”thewomansaid.“Ishereal?”Aliciaasked.Ididn’tknowhowtoanswerthatquestion.“He’sarealdummy,”ItoldAlicia.IproppedSlappyupinmyarmsandslippedmyhandintohisback.“ThisisSlappy,”Itoldthelittlegirl.“Slappy,thisisAlicia.”“Howdoyoudo?”ImadeSlappysay.Aliciaandhermotherbothlaughed.Aliciastaredupatthedummywithhersparklingblueeyes.“Howoldareyou?”ImadeSlappysay.Aliciaheldupthreefingers.“I’mfffree,”shetoldhim.“WouldyouliketoshakehandswithSlappy?”Iasked.Alicianodded.Iloweredthedummyalittle.IpushedforwardSlappy’srighthand.“Goahead,”IurgedAlicia.“Takehishand.”AliciareachedupandgrabbedSlappy’shand.Shegiggled.“HappyBirthday,”Slappysaid.Aliciashookhishandgently.Thenshestartedtobackaway.“Wecan’twaittoseeyourshow,”Alicia’smothersaidtome.“Iknowthekidsaregoingtoloveit.”

“Ihopeso!”Ireplied.Mystomachflutteredagain.Iwasstillreallynervous.“Letgo!”Aliciacried.ShetuggedatSlappy’shand.Shegiggled.“Hewon’tletgo!”Alicia’smomlaughed.“Whatafunnydummy!”ShegrabbedAlicia’sotherhand.“Letgoofthedummy,honey.Wehavetogeteveryoneintheirseatsfortheshow.”Aliciatuggedalittleharder.“Buthewon’tletgoofme,Mommy!”shecried.“Hewantstoshakehands!”Aliciagaveahardtug.ButhertinyhandwasstillwrappedupinsideSlappy’s.Shegiggled.“Helikesme.Hewon’tletgo.”“Oh,look,”hermothersaid,glancingtothedoor.“PhoebeandJenniferjustarrived.Let’sgosayhi.”Aliciatriedtofollowhermom,butSlappyheldtighttoherhand.Alicia’ssmilefaded.“Letgo!”sheinsisted.Isawthatseveralkidshadgatheredaround.TheywatchedAliciatugatSlappy’shand.“Letgo!Letmego!”Aliciacriedangrily.IleanedovertoexamineSlappy’shand.Tomysurprise,itappearedthathishandhadclenchedtightlyaroundhers.Aliciagaveahardtug.“Ow!He’shurtingme,Mommy!”Morekidscameovertowatch.Someofthemwerelaughing.Twolittledark-hairedboysexchangedfrightenedglances.“Please—makehimletgo!”Aliciawailed.Shetuggedagainandagain.Ifrozeinpanic.Mymindwhirred.Itriedtothinkofwhattodo.HadAliciagottenherhandcaughtsomehow?Slappy’shandcouldn’treallyclosearoundhers—couldit?Alicia’smotherwasstaringatmeangrily.“PleaseletAlicia’shandout,”shesaidimpatiently.“He’shurtingme!”Aliciacried.“Ow!He’ssqueezingmyhand!”Theroomgrewveryquiet.Theotherkidswereallwatchingnow.Theireyeswide.Theirexpressionsconfused.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.IhadnocontrolforSlappy’shands.

Ididn’tknowwhattodo.IhadnocontrolforSlappy’shands.Myheartpoundedinmychest.Itriedtomakeajokeofit.“Slappyreallylikesyou!”ItoldAlicia.Butthelittlegirlwassobbingnow.Littletearsrolleddownhercheeks.“Mommy—makehimstop!”IpulledmyhandoutfromSlappy’sback.Igrabbedhiswoodenhandbetweenmyhands.“Letgoofher,Slappy!”Idemanded.Itriedpullingthefingersopen.ButIcouldn’tbudgethem.“Whatiswrong?”Alicia’smotherwasscreaming.“Isherhandcaught?Whatareyoudoingtoher?”“He’shurtingme!”Aliciawailed.“Owwww!He’ssqueezingme!”Severalkidswerecryingnow.Mothersrushedacrosstheroomtocomfortthem.Alicia’ssobsroseupoverthefrightenedcriesoftheotherthree-year-olds.Thehardershetugged,thetighterthewoodenhandsqueezed.“Letgo,Slappy!”Ishrieked,pullinghisfingers.“Letgo!Letgo!”“Idon’tunderstand!”Alicia’smothercried.Shebeganfranticallytuggingmyarm.“Whatareyoudoing?Lethergo!Lethergo!”“Owwwww!”Aliciautteredahigh,heartbreakingwail.“Makehimstop!Ithurts!Ithurts!”AndthenSlappysuddenlytiltedhisheadback.Hiseyesopenedwide,andhismouthopenedinalong,evillaugh.

12Iburstintothehouseandletthescreendoorslambehindme.IhadtakenthecitybustoLoganStreet.ThenIhadrunthesixblockstomyhousewithSlappyhangingovermyshoulder.“Amy,howdiditgo?”Momcalledfromthekitchen.“Didyougetaride?Ithoughtweweresupposedtocomepickyouup.”Ididn’tanswerher.Iwassobbingtoohard.Irandownthehalltomyroomandslammedthedoor.IhoistedSlappyoffmyshoulderandtossedhimintothecloset.Ineverwantedtoseehimagain.Never.Icaughtaglimpseofmyselfinthedressermirror.Mycheekswereswollenandpuffyfromcrying.Myeyeswerered.Myhairwaswetandtangled,andmattedtomyforehead.Itookseveraldeepbreathsandtriedtostopcrying.Ikepthearingthatpoorlittlegirl’sscreamsinmyears.Slappyfinallyletgoofherafterheutteredhisuglylaugh.ButAliciacouldn’tstopcrying.Shewassofrightened!Andherlittlehandwasredandswollen.Theotherkidswereallscreamingandcrying,too.Alicia’smotherwasfurious.ShecalledMargo’sdadoutfromthekitchen.Shewasshakingandsputteringwithanger.ShesaidshewasgoingtosueThePartyHouse.Margo’sdadquietlyaskedmetoleave.Heledmetothefrontdoor.Hesaiditwasn’tmyfault.ButhesaidthekidsweretoofrightenedofSlappynow.TherewasnowayIcoulddomyshow.IsawMargohurryingovertome.ButIturnedandranoutthedoor.Ihadneverbeensoupset.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Alightrainhadstartedtocomedown.Iwatchedrainwaterflowdownthecurbandintothesewerdrain.Iwantedtoflowawaywithit.NowIthrewmyselfontomybed.IkeptpicturinglittleAlicia,screamingandcrying,tryingtotwistoutofSlappy’sgrasp.

Slappy’sgrasp.Momknockedhardonmybedroomdoor.“Amy?Amy—whatareyoudoing?What’swrong?”“Goaway!”Iwailed.“Justgoaway.”Butsheopenedthedoorandsteppedintotheroom.Saracameinbehindher,aconfusedexpressiononherface.“Amy—theshowdidn’tgowell?”Momaskedsoftly.“Goaway!”Isobbed.“Please!”“Amy,you’lldobetternexttime,”Sarasaid,steppinguptothebed.Sheputahandonmytremblingshoulder.“Shutup!”Icried.“Shutup,MissPerfect!”Ididn’tmeantosoundsoangry.Iwasoutofcontrol.Sarasteppedback,hurt.“Telluswhathappened,”Mominsisted.“You’llfeelbetterifyoutellus.”IpulledmyselfupuntilIwassittingontheedgeofthebed.Iwipedmyeyesandbrushedmywethairoffmyface.Andthen,suddenly,thewholestoryburstoutofme.ItoldhowSlappygrabbedAlicia’shandandwouldn’tletgo.Andhowallthekidswerecrying.Andtheparentswereallscreamingandmakingafuss.AndhowIhadtoleavewithoutdoingmyact.AndthenIleapedtomyfeet,threwmyarmsaroundmymom,andstartedtosobagain.Shepettedmyhair,thewaysheusedtodowhenIwasalittlegirl.Shekeptwhispering,“Ssshhshhhhshhhh.”Slowly,Ibegantocalmdown.“Thisissoweird,”Saramurmured,shakingherhead.“I’malittleworriedaboutyou,”Momsaid,holdingmyhands.“Thelittlegirlgotherhandcaught.That’sall.Youdon’treallybelievethatthedummygrabbedherhand—doyou?”Momstaredatmehard,studyingme.ShethinksI’mcrazy,Irealized.ShethinksI’mtotallymessedup.Shedoesn’tbelieveme.

Shedoesn’tbelieveme.IdecidedI’dbetternotinsistthatmystorywastrue.Ishookmyhead.“Yeah.Iguessherhandgotcaught,”Isaid,loweringmyeyestothefloor.“MaybeyoushouldputSlappyawayforawhile,”Momsuggested,bitingherbottomlip.“Yeah.You’reright,”Iagreed.Ipointed.“Ialreadyputhiminthecloset.”“Goodidea,”Momreplied.“Leavehiminthereforawhile.Ithinkyou’vebeenspendingtoomuchtimewiththatdummy.”“Yeah.Youneedanewhobby,”Sarachimedin.“Itwasn’tahobby!”Isnapped.“Well,leavehimintheclosetforafewdays—okay,Amy?”Momsaid.Inodded.“Ineverwanttoseehimagain,”Imuttered.IthoughtIheardasighfrominsidethecloset.But,ofcourse,thatwasmyimagination.“Getyourselfcleanedup,”Mominstructed.“Washyourface.ThencometothekitchenandI’llmakeyouasnack.”“Okay,”Iagreed.SarafollowedMomoutthedoor.“Weird,”IheardSaramutter.“Amyisgettingsoweird.”Margocalledafterdinner.Shesaidshefeltterribleaboutwhathadhappened.Shesaidherdaddidn’tblameme.“Hewantstogiveyouanotherchance,”Margotoldme.“Maybewitholderkids.”“Thanks,”Ireplied.“ButIputSlappyawayforawhile.Idon’tknowifIwanttobeaventriloquistanymore.”“Atthepartytoday—whathappened?”Margoasked.“Whatwentwrong?”“Idon’treallyknow,”Isaid.“Idon’treallyknow.”Thatnight,Iwenttobedearly.BeforeIturnedoutthelight,Iglancedattheclosetdoor.Itwasclosedtightly.HavingSlappyshutupintheclosetmademefeelsafer.Ifellasleepquickly.Isleptadeep,dreamlesssleep.WhenIawokethenextmorning,Isatupandrubbedmyeyes.

ThenIheardSara’sangryscreamsdownthehall.“Mom!Dad!Mom!Hurry!”Sarawasshouting.“ComeseewhatAmydidnow!”

13Ishutmyeyes,listeningtomysister’sscreams.Whatnow?Ithoughtwithashudder.Whatnow?“Ohh!”IletoutalowcrywhenIsawthatmyclosetdoorwasopenacrack.Myheartpounding,IclimbedoutofbedandbeganrunningdownthehalltoSara’sroom.Mom,Dad,andJedwerealreadyontheirway.“Mom!Dad!Lookwhatshedid!”Sarascreamed.“Oh,no!”IheardMomandDadshriek.Istoppedinthedoorway,peeredin—andgasped.Sara’sbedroomwalls!Theyweresmearedwithredpaint!SomeonehadtakenathickpaintbrushandhadscrawledAMYAMYAMYAMYinhugeredlettersalloverSara’swalls.“Noooo!”Imoaned.Icoveredmymouthwithbothhandstostopthesound.Myeyesdartedfromwalltowall,readingmynameoverandover.AMYAMYAMYAMY.Whymyname?Isuddenlyfeltsick.Iswallowedhard,tryingtoforcebackmynausea.Iblinkedseveraltimes,tryingtoblinktheuglyredscrawlsaway.AMYAMYAMYAMY.“Why?”Saraaskedmeinatremblingvoice.Sheadjustedhernightshirtandleanedagainstherdresser.“Why,Amy?”Isuddenlyrealizedthateveryonewasstaringatme.“I—I—I—“Isputtered.“Amy,thiscannotcontinue,”Dadsaidsolemnly.Hisexpressionwasn’tangry.Itwassad.“We’llgetyousomehelp,dear,”Momsaid.Shehadtearsinhereyes.Herchintrembled.Jedstoodsilentlywithhisarmscrossedinfrontofhispajamashirt.“Why,Amy?”Sarademandedagain.

“But—Ididn’t!”Ifinallychokedout.“Amy—nostories,”Momsaidsoftly.“But,Mom—Ididn’tdoit!”Iinsistedshrilly.“Thisisserious,”Dadmurmured,rubbinghiswhiskerychin.“Amy,doyourealizehowseriousthisis?”Jedreachedouttwofingersandrubbedthemoveroneoftheredpaintscrawls.“Dry,”hereported.“Thatmeansitwasdoneearlyinthenight,”Dadsaid,hiseyeslockedonme.“Doyourealizehowbadthisis?Thisisn’tjustmischief.”Itookadeepbreath.Mywholebodywasshaking.“Slappydidit!”Iblurtedout.“I’mnotcrazy,Dad!I’mnot!You’vegottobelieveme!Slappydidit!”“Amy,please—“Momsaidsoftly.“Comewithme!”Icried.“I’llproveit.I’llprovethatSlappydidit.Comeon!”Ididn’twaitforthemtoreply.Iturnedandboltedfromtheroom.Iflewdownthehall.Theyallfollowedsilentlybehindme.“IsAmysickorsomething?”IheardJedaskmyparents.Ididn’theartheanswer.Iburstintomyroom.Theyhurriedclosebehind.Isteppeduptotheclosetandpulledthedooropen.“See?”Icried,pointingtoSlappy.“See?Thatprovesit!Slappydidit!”

14IpointedtriumphantlyatSlappy.“See?See?”Thedummysatcrossed-leggedontheclosetfloor.Hisheadstooderectonhisnarrowshoulders.Heappearedtogrinupatus.Slappy’slefthandrestedontheclosetfloor.Hisrighthandwasinhislap.Andinhisrighthandhe,clutchedafatpaintbrush.Thebristlesonthebrushwerecakedwithredpaint.“ItoldyouSlappydidit!”Icried,steppingbacksotheotherscouldgetabetterview.Buteveryoneremainedsilent.MomandDadfrownedandshooktheirheads.Jed’sgigglebrokethesilence.“Thisisdumb,”hetoldSara.Saraloweredhereyesanddidn’treply.“Oh,Amy,”Momsaid,sighing.“Didyoureallythinkyoucouldblameitonthedummybyputtingthepaintbrushinhishand?”“Huh?”Icried.Ididn’tunderstandwhatMomwassaying.“Didyoureallyexpectustobelievethis?”Dadaskedsoftly.Hiseyesstaredhardintomine.“DidyouthinkyoucouldputthebrushintoSlappy’shand,andmakeusthinkhepaintedyournameonSara’swalls?”“ButIdidn’t!”Ishrieked.“Whendidhelearnhowtospell?”Jedchimedin.“Bequiet,Jed,”Dadsaidsharply.“Thisisserious.Itisn’tajoke.”“Sara,takeJedoutofhere,”Mominstructed.“Thetwoofyougotothekitchenandgetbreakfaststarted.”SarabegantoguideJedtothedoor.Buthepulledaway.“Iwanttostay!”hecried.“IwanttoseehowyoupunishAmy.”“Get!”Momcried,shooinghimawaywithbothhands.Saratuggedhimoutoftheroom.Iwasshakingallover.InarrowedmyeyesatSlappy.Hadhisgringrownevenwider?

wider?Istaredatthepaintbrushinhishand.Theredpaintonthebristlesblurred,blurreduntilIsawonlyred.Iblinkedseveraltimesandturnedbacktomyparents.“Youreallydon’tbelieveme?”Iaskedsoftly,myvoicetrembling.Theyshooktheirheads.“Howcanwebelieveyou,dear?”Momreplied.“Wecan’tbelievethatawoodendummyhasbeendoingthesehorriblethingsinSara’sroom,”Dadadded.“Whydon’tyoutellusthetruth,Amy?”“ButIam!”Iprotested.HowcouldIproveittothem?How?Iletoutanangrycryandslammedtheclosetdoorshut.“Let’strytocalmdown,”Momurgedquietly.“Let’sallgetdressedandhavesomebreakfast.Wecantalkaboutthiswhenwe’refeelingbetter.”“Goodidea,”Dadreplied,stillsquintingatmethroughhisglasses.Hewasstudyingmeasifhe’dneverseenmebefore.Hescratchedhisbaldhead.“GuessI’llhavetocallapainterforSara’sroom.It’lltakeatleasttwocoatstocoverupthered.”Theyturnedandmadetheirwayslowlyfrommyroom,talkingabouthowmuchitwasgoingtocosttohavemysister’sroompainted.Istoodinthecenteroftheroomandshutmyeyes.EverytimeIclosedthem,Isawred.AlloverSara’swall:AMYAMYAMYAMY.“ButIdidn’tdoit!”Icriedoutloud.Myheartpounding,Ispunaround.Igrabbedtheknobandjerkedopentheclosetdoor.IgrabbedSlappybytheshouldersofhisgrayjacketandpulledhimupfromthefloor.Thepaintbrushfellfromhishand.Itlandedwithathudbesidemybarefoot.Ishookthedummyangrily.Shookhimsohardthathisarmsandlegsswungbackandforth,andhisheadsnappedback.ThenIliftedhimsothatwewereeyetoeye.“Admitit!”Iscreamed,glaringintohisgrinningface.“Goahead!Admitthatyoudidit!Tellmethatyoudidit!”

Theglassyblueeyesgazedupatme.Lifelessly.Blankly.Neitherofusmoved.Andthen,tomyhorror,thewoodenlipsparted.Theredmouthslowlyopened.AndSlappyletoutasoft,evil,“Heeheehee.”

15“Ican’tcomeover,”ItoldMargoglumly.Iwassprawledontopofmybed,thephonepressedagainstmyear.“I’mnotallowedoutofmyroomallday.”“Huh?Why?”Margodemanded.Isighed.“IfItoldyou,Margo,youwouldn’tbelieveme.”“Tryme,”shereplied.Idecidednottotellher.Imean,mywholefamilythoughtIwascrazy.Whyshouldmybestfriendthinkit,too?“MaybeI’lltellyouaboutitwhenIseeyou,”Isaid.Silenceattheotherend.ThenMargouttered,“Wow.”“Wow?Whatdoeswowmean?”Icried.“Wow.Itmustbeprettybadifyoucan’ttalkaboutit,Amy.”“It—it’sjustweird,”Istammered.“Canwechangethesubject?”Anothersilence.“Daddyhasabirthdaypartyforsix-year-oldscomingup,Amy.Andhewondered—““No.Sorry,”Ibrokeinquickly.“IputSlappyaway.”“Excuseme?”Margoreactedwithsurprise.“Iputthedummyaway,”Itoldher.“I’mfinishedwiththat.I’mnotgoingtobeaventriloquistanymore.”“But,Amy—“Margoprotested.“Youlovedplayingwiththosedummies.Andyousaidyouwantedtomakesomemoney,remember?SoDaddy—““No,”Irepeatedfirmly.“Ichangedmymind,Margo.I’msorry.TellyourdadI’msorry.I—I’lltellyouaboutitwhenIseeyou.”Iswallowedhard.Andadded:“IfIeverseeyou.”“Yousoundterrible,”Margorepliedsoftly.“ShouldIcomeovertoyourhouse?IthinkIcouldgetmydadtodropmeoff.”“I’mtotallygrounded,”Isaidunhappily.“Novisitors.”Iheardfootstepsinthehall.ProbablyMomorDadcheckinguponme.Iwasn’tallowedtobeonthephone,either.

allowedtobeonthephone,either.“Gottogo.Bye,Margo,”Iwhispered.Ihungupthephone.Momknockedonmybedroomdoor.Irecognizedherknock.“Amy,wanttotalk?”shecalledin.“Notreally,”Irepliedglumly.“Assoonasyoutellthetruth,youcancomeout,”Momsaid.“Iknow,”Imuttered.“Whydon’tyoujusttellthetruthnow?It’ssuchabeautifulday,”Momcalledin.“Don’twastethewholedayinyourroom.”“I—Idon’tfeelliketalkingnow,”Itoldher.Shedidn’tsayanythingelse.ButIcouldhearherstandingoutthere.FinallyIheardherfootstepspaddingbackdownthehall.Igrabbedmypillowandburiedmyfaceinit.Iwantedtoshutouttheworld.Andthink.Think.Think.Think.Iwasn’tgoingtoconfesstoacrimeIdidn’tdo.Noway.IwasgoingtofindawaytoprovetothemthatSlappywastheculprit.AndIwasgoingtoprovetothemthatIwasn’tcrazy.IhadtoshowthemthatSlappywasn’tanordinarydummy.Hewasalive.Andhewasevil.ButhowcouldIproveit?Iclimbedtomyfeetandbeganpacingbackandforth.Istoppedatthewindowandgazedoutatthefrontyard.Itwasabeautifulspringday.Brightyellowtulipsbobbedintheflowerpatchinfrontofmywindow.Theskywasasolidblue.Thetwinmapletreesinthecenteroftheyardwerestartingtounfurlfreshleaves.Itookadeepbreath.Theairsmelledsofreshandsweet.IsawJedandacoupleofhisfriends.TheywereRollerbladingdownthesidewalk.Laughing.Havingagoodtime.AndIwasaprisoner.Aprisonerinmyroom.AllbecauseofSlappy.

Ispunawayfromthewindowandstaredattheclosetdoor.IhadshovedSlappyintothebackoftheclosetandshutthedoortightly.I’mgoingtocatchyouintheact,Slappy,Idecided.That’showI’mgoingtoproveI’mnotcrazy.I’mgoingtostayupallnight.I’mgoingtostayupeverynight.Andthefirsttimeyoucreepoutofthatcloset,I’llbeawake.AndI’llfollowyou.AndI’llmakesurethateveryoneseeswhatyouaredoing.I’llmakesurethateveryoneseesthatyouaretheeviloneinthishouse.Ifeltsoupset.IknewIwasn’treallythinkingclearly.Buthavingaplanmademefeelalittlebetter.Takingonelastglanceattheclosetdoor,Icrossedtheroomtomydeskandstartedtodomyhomework.MomandDadletmecomeoutfordinner.Dadhadgrilledhamburgersinthebackyard,thefirstbarbecueofspring.Ilovedgrilledhamburgers,especiallywhenthey’recharredrealblack.ButIcouldbarelytastemyfood.IguessIfelttooexcitedandnervousabouttrappingSlappy.Noonetalkedmuch.MomkeptchatteringtoDadaboutthevegetablegardenandwhatshewantedtoplant.Saratalkedalittleaboutthemuralshehadstartedtopaintinherroom.JedkeptcomplainingabouthowhewreckedhiskneeRollerblading.Noonespoketome.Theykeptglancingoverthetableatme.StudyingmelikeIwassomekindofzooanimal.Iaskedtobeexcusedbeforedessert.Iusuallystayuptillten.Butalittleafternine,Idecidedtogotobed.Iwaswideawake.EagertotrapSlappy.Iturnedoutthelightandtuckedmyselfin.ThenIlaystaringupattheshiftingshadowsonthebedroomceiling,waiting,waiting...WaitingforSlappytocomecreepingoutofthecloset.Imusthavefallenasleep.Itriednotto.ButImusthavedriftedoffanyway.

Itriednotto.ButImusthavedriftedoffanyway.Iwasstartledawakebysoundsintheroom.Iraisedmyhead,instantlyalert.Andlistened.Thescrapeoffeetonmycarpet.Asoftrustling.Ashiveroffearrandownmyhack.Ifeltgoosebumpsupanddownmyarms.Anotherlowsound.Sonearmybed.Ireachedforwardquickly,Clickedonthebedtablelamp.Andcriedout.

16“Jed—whatareyoudoinginhere?”Ishrieked.Hestoodblinkingatmeinthecenteroftheroom.Onelegofhisbluepajamapantshadrolledup.Hisredhairwasmattedagainstonesideofhishead.“Whatareyoudoinginmyroom?”Idemandedbreathlessly.Hesquintedatme.“Huh?Whyareyouyellingatme?Youcalledme,Amy.”“I—Iwhat?”Isputtered.“Youcalledme.Iheardyou.”Herubbedhiseyeswithhisfingersandyawned.“Iwasasleep.Youwokemeup.”Iloweredmyfeettothefloorandstoodup.Mylegsfeltshakyandweak.Jedhadreallyscaredme.“Iwasasleep,too,”Itoldhim.“Ididn’tcallyou.”“Yes,youdid,”heinsisted.“Youtoldmetocometoyourroom.”Hebenttopulldownthepajamaleg.“Jed,youjustwokemeup,”Ireplied.“SohowcouldIcallyou?”Hescratchedhishair.Heyawnedagain.“YoumeanIdreamedit?”Istudiedhisface.“Jed—didyousneakintomyroomtoplaysomekindofprank?”Idemandedsternly.Hewrinkledhisfaceup,triedtoappearinnocent.“Didyou?”Idemanded.“WereyougoingintotheclosettodosomethingwithSlappy?”“Noway!”heprotested.Hestartedtobackoutoftheroom.“Fmtellingthetruth,Amy.Ithoughtyoucalledme.That’sall.”Isquintedhardathim,tryingtodecideifhewastellingthetruth.Iletmyeyeswanderaroundtheroom.Everythingseemedokay.Dennislayinthearmchair,hisheadinhislap.Theclosetdoorremainedclosed.“Itwasadream,that’sall,”Jedrepeated.“Goodnight,Amy.”Isaidgoodnight.“SorryIgotupset,Jed.It’sbeenabadday.”Ilistenedtohimpadbacktohisroom.

Thecatpokedhisheadintomyroom,hiseyesgleaminglikegold.“Gotosleep,George,”Iwhispered.“Yougotosleep,too,okay?”Heobedientlyturnedanddisappeared.Iclickedoffthebedtablelampandsettledbackintobed.Jedwastellingthetruth,Idecided.HeseemedasconfusedasIwas.Myeyessuddenlyfeltheavy.Asiftherewerehundred-poundweightsoverthem.Iletoutaloudyawn.Ifeltsosleepy.Andthepillowfeltsosoftandwarm.ButIcouldn’tletmyselffallbacktosleep.Ihadtostayawake.HadtowaitforSlappytomakehismove.DidIdriftbacktosleep?I’mnotsure.Aloudclickmademyeyesshootopenwide.Iraisedmyheadintimetoseetheclosetdoorstarttoopen.Theroomlayindarkness.Nolightwashedinfromthewindow.Thedoorwasablackshadow,slidingslowly,slowly.Myheartbegantopound.Mymouthsuddenlyfeltdryascotton.Theclosetdoorslidslowly,silently.Alowcreak.Andthenashadowsteppedoutfrombehindthedarkdoor.Isquintedhardatit.Notmovingamuscle.Anothercreakofthedoor.Thefiguretookanothersilentstep.Outofthecloset.Anotherstep.Another.Makingitswaypastmybed,tothebedroomdoor.Slappy.Yes!EveninthenightblacknessIcouldseehislarge,roundedhead.Iwatchedhisskinnyarmsdangleathissides,thewoodenhandsbobbingashemoved.Theheavyleathershoesslidovermycarpet.Thethin,bonelesslegsnearlycollapsedwitheachshufflingstep.Likeascarecrow,Ithought,grippedwithhorror.

Hewalkslikeascarecrow.Becausehehasnobones.Nobonesatall.Upanddown,hiswholebodybobbedashecreptaway.Iwaiteduntilheslitheredandscrapedoutthedoorandintothehall.ThenIjumpedtomyfeet.Itookadeepbreathandheldit.ThenItiptoedthroughthedarknessafterhim.Herewego!Itoldmyself.Herewego!

17Istoppedatthebedroomdoorandpokedmyheadintothehall.Momkeepsasmallnight-lightonallnightjustoutsideherbedroomdoor.Itcastdimyellowlightovertheotherendofthehall.Peeringintothelight,IwatchedSlappypullhimselfsilentlytowardSara’sroom.Thebigshoesshuffledalongthecarpet.Slappy’sbodybobbedandbent.Thebig,woodenhandsnearlydraggedalongthefloor.Whenmycheststartedtoache,IrealizedIhadn’ttakenabreath.AssilentlyasIcould,Iletoutalongwhooshofair.ThenItookanotherdeepbreathandstartedtofollowSlappydownthehall.Ihadasuddenimpulsetoshout:“Mom!Dad!”TheywouldburstoutoftheirroomandseeSlappystandingthereinthemiddleofthehall.But,no.Ididn’twanttoshoutforthemnow.IwantedtoseewhereSlappywasheading.Iwantedtoseewhatheplannedtodo.Itookastep.Thefloorboardcreakedundermybarefoot.Didhehearme?Ipressedmybackagainstthewall,triedtosqueezemyselfflatinthedeepshadows.Ipeeredthroughthedimyellowlightathim.Hekeptbobbingsilentlyalong.Hisshouldersrodeupanddownwitheachshufflingstep.HewasjustoutsideSara’sroomwhenheturnedaround.Myheartstopped.Iduckedlow.Droppedbackintothebathroom.Hadheseenme?HadheturnedaroundbecauseheknewIwasthere?Ishutmyeyes.Waited.Listened.Listenedforhimtocomescrapingback.Listenedforhimtoturnaroundandcomebacktogetme.Silence.

Silence.Iswallowedhard.Mymouthfeltsodry.Mylegsweretrembling.Igrabbedthetilewalltosteadymyself.Stillsilentoutthere.Igatheredupmycourageandslowly,slowlypokedmyheadoutintothehall.Empty.IsquintedtowardSara’sroomintheyellowlight.Noonethere.He’sinSara’sroom,Itoldmyself.He’sdoingsomethingterribleinSara’sroom.SomethingI’llbeblamedfor.Notthistime,Slappy!Isilentlyvowed.Thistimeyou’regoingtobecaught.Pressingagainstthewall,Icreptdownthehall.IstoppedinSara’sdoorway.Thenight-lightwaspluggedinacrossfromSara’sroom.Thelightwasbrighterhere.Isquintedintoherbedroom.Icouldseethemuralshehadstartedtopaint.Abeachscene.Theocean.Abroad,yellowbeach.Kitesflyingoverthebeach.Kidsbuildingasandcastleinonecorner.Themuralwastackedup,nearlycoveringtheentirewall.WherewasSlappy?Itookastepintotheroom—andsawhim.Standingatherpainttable.Isawhisbigwoodenhandfumbleoverthetableofsupplies.Thenhegrabbedapaintbrushinonehand.Heraisedandloweredthebrush,asifpretendingtopainttheair.ThenIsawhimdipthepaintbrushinajarofpaint.Slappytookasteptowardthemural.Thenanotherstep.Hestoodforamoment,admiringthemural.Heraisedthepaintbrushhigh.That’swhenIburstintotheroom.

That’swhenIburstintotheroom.Idovetowardthedummyjustasheraisedthepaintbrushtothemural.Igrabbedthepaintbrushwithonehand.Wrappedmyotherhandaroundhiswaist.Andtuggedhimback.Thedummykickedbothlegsandtriedtopunchmewithhisfists.“Hey—!”astartledvoiceshouted.Thelightclickedon.Slappywentlimponmyarm.Hisheaddropped.Hisarmsandlegsdangledtothefloor.Sittingupinbed,Saragapedatmeinhorror.Isawhereyesstopatthepaintbrushinmyhand.“Amy—whatareyoudoing?”shecried.And,then,withoutwaitingforananswer,Sarabegantoshout:“Mom!Dad!Hurry!She’sinhereagain!”

18Dadcamerumblinginfirst,adjustinghispajamapants.“What’sgoingon?What’stheproblem?”Momfollowedrightbehindhim,blinkingandyawning.“I—ItookthisfromSlappy,”Istammered,holdingupthepaintbrush.“He—hewasgoingtoruinthemural.”Theystaredatthepaintbrushinmyhand.“IheardSlappysneakoutofthecloset,”Iexplainedbreathlessly.“IfollowedhimintoSara’sroom.Igrabbedhimjustbefore—beforehedidsomethingterrible.”IturnedtoSara.“YousawSlappy—right?Yousawhim?”“Yeah,”Sarasaid,stillinbed,herarmscrossedoverherchest.“IseeSlappy.You’recarryinghimonyourarm.”Thedummyhungovermyarm,itsheadnearlyhittingthefloor.“No!”IcriedtoSara.“Yousawhimsneakintoyourroom—right?That’swhyyouturnedonthelight?”Sararolledhereyes.“Isawyoucomeintomyroom,”shereplied.“You’recarryingthedummy,Amy.You’reholdingthedummy—andthebrush.”“But—but—but—“Isputtered.Myeyesdartedfromfacetoface.TheyallstaredbackatmeasifIhadjustlandedonEarthinaflyingsaucer.Nooneinmyfamilywasgoingtobelieveme.Noone.Thenextmorning,MomhungupthephoneasIcamedownforbreakfast.“You’rewearingshortstoschool?”sheasked,eyeingmyoutfit—olive-greenshortsandared,sleevelessT-shirt.“Theradiosaidit’sgoingtobehot,”Ireplied.JedandSarawerealreadyatthetable.Theyglancedupfromtheircerealbowls,butdidn’tsayanything.Ipouredmyselfaglassofgrapejuice.I’mtheonlyoneinmyfamilywhodoesn’tlikeorangejuice.IguessIamtotallyweird.“Whowereyoutalkingtoonthephone?”IaskedMom.Itookalongdrink.

“Whowereyoutalkingtoonthephone?”IaskedMom.Itookalongdrink.“Uh...Dr.Palmer’ssecretary,”sherepliedhesitantly.“Youhavepurpleaboveyourlip,”shetoldme,pointing.Iwipedthegrapejuiceoffwithanapkin.“Dr.Palmer?Isn’tsheashrink?”Iasked.Momnodded.“Itriedtogetanappointmentfortoday.Butshecan’tseeyouuntilWednesday.”“But,Mom—!”Iprotested.Momplacedafingeroverhermouth.“Sssshhh.Nodiscussion.”“But,Mom—!”Irepeated.“Ssshhh.Justtalktoheronce,Amy.Youmightenjoyit.Youmightthinkit’shelpful.”“Yeah.Sure,”Imuttered.IturnedtoSaraandJed.Theystareddownattheircerealbowls.Isighedandsetthejuiceglassdowninthesink.Iknewwhatthismeant.ItmeantthatIhaduntilWednesdaytoprovetomyfamilythatIwasn’tatotalwackjob.Inthelunchroomatschool,Margobeggedmetotellherwhatwasgoingonwithme.“Whywereyoulockedupinyourroomalldayyesterday?”shedemanded.“Comeon,Amy—spill.”“It’snobigdeal,”Ilied.NowayIwasgoingtotellher.Ididn’tneedthestorygoingaroundschoolthatAmyKramerbelievesherventriloquistdummyisalive.Ididn’tneedeveryonewhisperingaboutmeandstaringatmethewayeveryoneinmyfamilydid.“Dadwantstoknowifyou’llchangeyourmindaboutthebirthdayparty,”Margosaid.“IfyouwanttoperformwithSlappy,youcan—““No.Forgetit!”Iinterrupted.“IputSlappyinthecloset,andhe’sstayingthere.Forever.”Margo’seyeswentwide.“Okay.Okay.Wow.Youdon’thavetobitemyheadoff.”

“Sorry,”Isaidquickly.“I’malittlestressedoutthesedays.Here.Wantthis?”IhandedherthebrownieMomhadpacked.“Thanks,”Margoreplied,surprised.“Later,”Isaid.Icrinkledupmylunchbag,tosseditinthetrash,andhurriedaway.Inmyroomthatnight,Icouldn’tconcentrateonmyhomework.Ikeptstaringatthecalendar.Mondaynight.IhadonlytwonightstoprovethatIwasn’tcrazy,thatSlappyreallywasdoingthesehorriblethings.Islammedmyhistorybookshut.NowayIcouldreadaboutthefiringonFortSumtertonight.Ipacedbackandforthforawhile.Thinking.Thinkinghard.Butgettingnowhere.WhatcouldIdo?What?Afterawhile,myheadfeltabouttosplitopen.Ireachedupbothhandsandtuggedatmyhair.“Aaaaagh!”Iletoutafuriouscry.Ofanger.Offrustration.MaybeI’lljustgetridofSlappy,Idecided.MaybeI’lltakehimoutsideandtosshiminthetrash.Andthatwillendthewholeproblem.Theideamademefeelalittlebetter.Iturnedandtooktwostepstowardthecloset.ButIstoppedwithagaspwhenIsawthedoorknobslowlyturn.AsIstaredinshock,theclosetdoorswungopen.Slappysteppedout.Heslumpedforwardandstoppedafewfeetinfrontofme.Hisblueeyesglaredupatme.Hisgringrewwider.“Amy,”herasped,“it’stimeyouandIhadalittletalk.”

19“Amy,nowyouaremyslave,”Slappysaid.Histhreatcameoutinaharsh,coldrasp.Theeerievoicemademeshiver.Istaredbackathim.Icouldn’treply.Igapedintothoseglassyblueeyes,thatred-lippedsmirk.“Youreadtheancientwordsthatbringmetolife,”thedummywhispered.“Andnowyouwillserveme.YouwilldoeverythingIask.”“No!”Ifinallymanagedtochokeout.“No!Please—!”“Yes!”hecried.Thegrinningwoodenheadbobbedupanddown,nodding.“Yes,Amy!Youaremyslavenow!Myslaveforever!”“Iw-won’t!”Istammered.“Youcan’tmakeme—“Myvoicecaughtinmythroat.Mylegswobbledlikerubber.Mykneesbuckled,andInearlyfell.Slappyraisedonehandandgrabbedmywrist.Ifeltthecold,woodenfingerstightenaroundme.“YouwilldoasItellyou—fromnowon,”thedummywhispered.“Orelse...”“Letgoofme!”Icried.Istruggledtotugmyarmfree.Buthisgraspwastootight.“Orelsewhat?”Icried.“OrelseIwilldestroyyoursister’smural,”Slappyreplied.Hispaintedgringrewwider.Thecoldeyesglaredintomine.“Bigdeal,”Imuttered.“DoyoureallythinkI’llbeyourslavebecauseyouwreckherpainting?You’vealreadywreckedSara’sroom—haven’tyou?Thatdoesn’tmeanI’llbeyourslave!”“I’llkeepondestroyingthings,”Slappyreplied,tighteninghisgriponmywrist,tuggingmedowntowardhim.“MaybeI’llstartwreckingyourbrother’sthings,too.Andyouwillbeblamed,Amy.Youwillbeblamedforitall.”“Stop—“Icried,tryingtotwistfree.“Yourparentsarealreadyworriedaboutyou—aren’tthey,Amy?”thedummyraspedinthatharsh,coldwhisperyvoice.“Yourparentsalreadythinkyou’recrazy!”“Stop!Please—!”Ipleaded.“Whatdoyouthinkthey’lldowhenyoustartwreckingeverythinginthehouse?”Slappydemanded.“Whatdoyouthinkthey’lldotoyou,Amy?”

house?”Slappydemanded.“Whatdoyouthinkthey’lldotoyou,Amy?”“Listentome!”Ishrieked.“Youcan’t—“Hejerkedmyarmhard.“They’llsendyouaway!”herasped,hiseyesflashingwildly.“That’swhatyourparentswilldo.They’llsendyouaway,you’llneverseethemagain—exceptonvisitingdays!”Hetiltedbackhiswoodenheadandutteredashrilllaugh.Alowmoanescapedmythroat.Myentirebodyshudderedwithterror.Slappytuggedmecloser.“Youwillbeanexcellentslave,”hewhisperedinmyear.“YouandIwillhavemanygoodyearstogether.Youwilldevoteyourlifetome.”“No!”Icried.“No,Iwon’t!”Isuckedinadeepbreath.ThenIswungmyarmhard,ashardasIcould.Icaughtthedummybysurprise.Beforehecouldletgoofmywrist,Ipulledhimoffbalance.HeletoutastartledgruntasIliftedhimoffthefloor.He’sjustadummy,Itoldmyself.Justadummy.Icanhandlehim.Icanbeathim.Hishandfelloffmywrist.Iduckedlow.Grabbedhisbonelessarmwithbothhands.Swungmyshoulder.Flippedhimovermyback.Helandedhardonhisstomach.Hisheadmadealoudclonkasithitthefloor.Breathinghard,myheartthuddingwildly,Idove.Icanhandlehim.Icanbeathim.Itriedtopinhimtothefloorwithmyknees.Buthespunawayandscrambledup,fasterthanIcouldbelieve.Icriedoutasheswunghiswoodenfist.Itriedtododgeaway.Buthewastoofast.Theheavyfisthitmesquareintheforehead.Myfacefeltasifithadexploded.Painshotdownmybody.Everythingwentbrightred.And,holdingbothsidesofmyhead,Icrumpledtothefloor.

And,holdingbothsidesofmyhead,Icrumpledtothefloor.

20Icanhandlehim.Icanbeathim.Thewordsrepeatedinmymind.Iblinkedmyeyes.Raisedmyhead.Irefusedtogiveup.Throughthehazeofred,Ireachedupwithbothhands.IgrabbedSlappybythewaistandpulledhimdown.Ignoringmythrobbingforehead,Iwrestledhimtotheground.Hekickedbothfeetandthrashedhisarmswildly.Heswungatme,tryingtolandanotherblow.ButIdugmykneeintohismiddle.ThenIwrappedmyhandsaroundhisthrashingarmsandpinnedthemtothefloor.“Letgo,slave!”hesquealed.“Icommandyou—letgo!”Hestruggledandsquirmed.ButIheldtight.Hiseyesdartedfranticallyfromsidetoside.Hiswoodenjawclickedopenandshut,openandshut,ashestrainedtosquirmfree.“Icommandyoutoletgo,slave!Youhavenochoice!Youmustobeyme!”Iignoredhisshrillcriesandswunghisarmsbehindhisback.Holdingthemtightlyinplace,Iclimbedtomyfeet.Hetriedtokickmewithbothshoes.ButIletgoofthearmsandgrabbedhislegs.Iswunghimupsidedown.Onceagain,hisheadhitthefloorwithaclonk.Itdidn’tseemtohurthimabit.“Letgo!Letgo,slave!Youwillpay!Youwillpaydearlyforthis!”Hescreamedandprotested,squirmingandswinginghisarms.Breathinghard,Idraggedhimacrosstherug—andswunghimintotheopencloset.Hedovequickly,tryingtoescape.ButIslammedthedoorinhisface.Andturnedthelock.Withasigh,Ileanedmybackagainsttheclosetdoorandstruggledtocatchmy

Withasigh,Ileanedmybackagainsttheclosetdoorandstruggledtocatchmybreath.“Letmeout!Youcan’tkeepmeinhere!”Slappyraged.Hebeganpoundingonthedoor.Thenhekickedthedoor.“I’llbreakitdown!Ireallywill!”hethreatened.Hepoundedevenharder.Thebigwoodenhandsthuddedagainstthewoodendoor.Iturnedandsawthedoorstarttogive.He’sgoingtobreakitopen!Irealized.WhatcanIdo?WhatcanIdonow?Itriedtofightbackmypanic,struggledtothinkclearly.Slappyfuriouslykickedatthedoor.Ineedhelp,Idecided.Iboltedintothehall.MomandDadhadtheirbedroomdoorclosed,Isaw.ShouldIwakethemup?No.Theywouldn’tbelieveme.I’ddragthemintomyroom.Slappywouldbeslumpedlifelesslyontheclosetfloor.MomandDadwouldbeevenmoreupsetaboutme.Sara,Ithought.MaybeIcanconvinceSara.MaybeSarawilllistentome.Herdoorwasopen.Iburstintoherbedroom.Shestoodatthemural,brushinhand,dabbingyellowpaintonthebeach.SheturnedasIranin,andherfacetightenedinanger.“Amy—whatdoyouwant?”shedemanded.“You—you’vegottobelieveme!”Isputtered.“Ineedyourhelp!Itwasn’tmewhodidthosehorriblethings.Itreallywasn’t,Sara.ItwasSlappy.Please—believeme!ItwasSlappy!”“Yes.Iknow,”Sararepliedcalmly.

21“Huh?”Mymouthdroppedopen.Istaredatherinsurprise.“Whatdidyousay?”Sarasetdownthepaintbrush.Shewipedherhandsonhergraysmock.“Amy—Iknowit’sSlappy,”sherepeatedinawhisper.“I—I—“Iwassostunned,Icouldn’tspeak.“But,Sara—you—““I’msorry.I’msosorry!”shecriedwithemotion.Sherushedforwardandthrewherarmsaroundme.Shehuggedmetightly.Istilldidn’tbelievewhatshehadsaid.Myheadwasspinning.Igentlypushedheraway.“Youknewallthistime?YouknewitwasSlappyandnotme?”Saranodded.“Theothernight,Iwokeup.Iheardsomeoneinmyroom.Ipretendedtobeasleep.ButIhadmyeyesopenpartway.”“And—?”Idemanded.“IsawSlappy,”Saraconfessed,loweringhereyes.“Isawhimcarryingaredpaintbrush.IsawhimpaintingAMYAMYAMYAMYallovermywalls.”“Butyoudidn’ttellMomandDad?”Icried.“Youmadethemthinkitwasme?Andthewholetime,youknewthetruth?”Sarakepthereyesonthefloor.Herblackhairfelloverherface.Shebrusheditbackwithaquick,nervoussweepofonehand.“I—Ididn’twanttobelieveit,”sheconfessed.“Ididn’twanttobelievethatadummycouldwalkonitsown,thatitcouldbe...alive.”Iglaredather.“And,so—?”“SoIaccusedyou,”Sarasaidwithasob.“Iguessthetruthwasjusttooscary.Iwastoofrightened,Amy.Iwantedtobelieveitwasyoudoingthosehorriblethings.Iwantedtopretenditwasn’tthedummy.”“Youwantedtogetmeintrouble,”Iaccused.“That’swhyyoudidit,Sara.That’swhyyouliedtoMomandDad.Youwantedtogetmeintrouble.”Shefinallyraisedherfacetome.Isawtwotearstrailingdownhercheeks.“Yeah,Iguess,”shemurmured.Shewipedthetearsoffwithherhands.Hergreeneyeslockedonmine.“I—IguessI’malittlejealousofyou,”shesaid.

“Huh?”Mysisterhadstunnedmeagain.Isquintedather,tryingtomakesenseofherwords.“You?”Icried.“You’rejealousofme?”Shenodded.“Yeah.Iguess.Everythingiseasyforyou.You’resorelaxed.Everyonelikesyoursenseofhumor.It’snotlikethatforme,”Saraexplained.“Ihavetopainttoimpresspeople.”Iopenedmymouth,butnosoundcameout.Thishadtobethebiggestsurpriseofall.Sarajealousofme?Didn’tsheknowhowjealousIwasofher?Isuddenlyhadafunnyfeelinginmychest.Myeyesbrimmedwithtears.Strongemotionsweptovermelikeanoceanwave.IrushedforwardandhuggedSara.Forsomereason,webothstartedlaughing.Ican’texplainit.Westoodthereinthemiddleofherroom,laughinglikelunatics.Iguesswewerejustsogladthatthetruthwasout.ThenSlappy’spaintedfaceflashedbackintomymind.AndIrememberedwithachillwhyIhadburstintomysister’sroom.“Youhavetohelpme,”Itoldher.“Rightnow.”Sara’ssmilevanished.“Helpyoudowhat?”shedemanded.“WehavetogetridofSlappy,”Itoldher.“Wehavetogetridofhimforgood.”Ituggedherhand.Shefollowedmedownthehall.“But—how?”sheasked.Steppingintomyroom,webothcriedoutatonce.Weheardafinalkick—andtheclosetdoorswungopen.Slappyburstout,hiseyeswildwithrage.“Guesswhat,slaves?”herasped.“Slappywins!”

22“Grabhim!”Icriedtomysister.Ireachedoutbotharmsandmadeafranticdiveforthedummy.Buthescamperedtothesideandslippedawayfrommytackle.Hisblueeyesflashedexcitedly.Hisredlipstwistedinanuglygrin.“Giveup,slaves!”herasped.“Youcannotwin!”Saraheldback,handsagainstthedoorframe.Icouldseethefearinhereyes.ImadeanothergrabforSlappy.Missedagain.“Sara—helpme!”Ipleaded.Saratookastepintotheroom.IleapedatSlappy,grabbedonebonelessankle.Withagrunt,hepulledoutofmygrasp.Hedartedtowardthedoor—andranrightintoSara.Thecollisionstunnedthemboth.Sarastaggeredback.Slappyteeteredoffbalance.Ithrewmyselfathim,caughthisarms,andpulledthembehindhisback.Hesquirmedandtwisted.Hekickedoutfuriously.ButSaragrabbedbothofhisbigleathershoes.“Tiehiminaknot!”shecriedbreathlessly.Hekickedandthrashed.Butweheldtight.Itwistedhisarmsbehindhim.Twistedthemaroundeachother.Twisted.Twisted.ThentiedtheminastightaknotasIcould.Slappysquirmedandbucked,gruntingloudly,hiswoodenjawsclicking.WhenIglancedupfrommyworkonthearms,IsawthatSarahadwrappedhislegsinaknot,too.Slappytiltedbackhisheadandutteredaroarofrage.Hiseyesslidupintohisheadsothatonlythewhitesshowed.“Putmedown,slaves!Putmedownatonce!”

once!”Withonehand,IgrabbedawadoftissuesfrommybedtableandjammeditintoSlappy’smouth.Heutteredagruntofprotest,thenwentsilent.“Nowwhat?”Saracriedbreathlessly.“Whereshouldweputhim?”Myeyesshotaroundtheroom.No,Idecided.Idon’twanthiminmyroom.Idon’twanthiminthehouse.“Outside,”Iinstructedmysister,holdingontotheknottedarmswithbothofmyhands.“Let’sgethimoutside.”Strugglingtoholdontothebuckinglegs,Saraglancedattheclock.“It’saftereleven.WhatifMomandDadhearus?”“Idon’tcare!”Icried.“Hurry!Iwanthimoutofhere!Ineverwanttoseehimagain!”WedraggedSlappyoutintothehall.MomandDad’sdoorremainedclosed.Good,Ithought.Theyhadn’theardourstruggle.Saracarriedhimbytheknottedlegs.Iheldontothearms.Slappyhadstoppedstrugglingandsquirming.Ithinkhewaswaitingtoseewhatweweregoingtodowithhim.Thewadoftissueshadsilencedhiscries.Ididn’tknowwheretotakehim.IonlyknewIwantedhimoutofthehouse.Wecarriedhimthroughthedarkenedlivingroomandoutthefrontdoor.Westeppedintoahot,stickynight,morelikesummerthanspring.Apalesliverofamoonhoveredlowinablue-blacksky.Therewasnobreeze.Nosoundsofanykind.Nothingmoved.SaraandIcarriedthedummytothedriveway.“Shouldwetakehimsomewhereonourbikes?”shesuggested.“Howwillwebalancehim?”Iasked.“Besides,it’stoodark.Toodangerous.Let’sjustcarryhimafewblocksanddumphimsomewhere.”“Youmeaninatrashcanorsomething?”Saraasked.Inodded.“That’swherehebelongs.Inthetrash.”Luckily,thedummydidn’tweighmuchatall.Wemadeourwaytothesidewalk,thencarriedhimtotheendoftheblock.Slappyremainedlimp,hiseyesrolledupinhishead.

Slappyremainedlimp,hiseyesrolledupinhishead.Atthecorner,Ispottedtwocirclesofwhitelightapproaching.Carheadlights.“Quick—!”IwhisperedtoSara.Weslippedbehindahedgejustintime.Thecarrolledbywithoutslowing.Wewaitedfortheglowofredtaillightstodisappearinthedarkness.Thenwecontinueddownthenextblock,carryingthedummybetweenus.“Hey—howaboutthose?”Saraasked,pointingwithherfreehand.Isquintedtoseewhatshehadspotted.Arowofmetaltrashcanslinedupatthecurbinfrontofadarkhouseacrossthestreet.“Looksgood,”Isaid.“Let’sshovehiminandclampdownthelid.Maybethetrashguyswillhaulhimawaytomorrow.”Iledthewayacrossthestreet—andthenstopped.“Sara—wait,”Iwhispered.“Ihaveabetteridea.”Idraggedthedummytowardthecorner.Imotionedtothemetaldraindownatthecurb.“Thesewer?”Sarawhispered.Inodded.“It’sperfect.”Throughthenarrowopeningatthecurb,Icouldhearrunningwaterfardownbelow.“Comeon.Shovehimin.”Slappystilldidn’tmoveorprotestinanyway.Iloweredhisheadtothedrainopening.ThenSaraandIpushedhiminheadfirst.Iheardasplashandahardthudashehitthesewerfloor.Webothlistened.Silence.Thenthesofttrickleofwater.SaraandIgrinnedateachother.Wehurriedhome.Iwassohappy,Iskippedmostoftheway.Thenextmorning,SaraandIcametothekitchenforbreakfasttogether.Momturnedfromthecounter,whereshewaspouringherselfacupofcoffee.Jedwasalreadyatthetable,eatinghisFrostedFlakes.“What’shedoingdownhere?”Jedasked.Hepointedacrossthetable.AtSlappy.Sittinginthechair.

AtSlappy.Sittinginthechair.

23SaraandIbothgasped.“Yes.Whyisthatdummydownhere?”Momaskedme.“IfoundhimsittingtherewhenIcameinthismorning.Andwhyishesodirty?Wherehashebeen,Amy?”Icouldbarelychokeoutaword.“I...uh...Iguesshefellorsomething,”Ifinallymumbled.“Well,takehimbackupstairs,”Momordered.“He’ssupposedtobekeptinthecloset—remember?”“Uh...yeah.Iremember,”Isaid,sighing.“You’llhavetocleanhimuplater,”Momsaid,stirringhercoffee.“Helooksasifhe’sbeenwallowinginthemud.”“Okay,”Irepliedweakly.IhoistedSlappyupandslunghimovermyshoulder.ThenIstartedtomyroom.“I—I’llcomewithyou,”Sarastammered.“Whatfor?”Momdemanded.“Sitdown,Sara,andeatyourbreakfast.You’rebothgoingtobelate.”SaraobedientlysatdownacrossfromJed.Imademywaydownthehall.IwashalfwaytomyroomwhenSlappyraisedhisheadandwhisperedinmyear,“Goodmorning,slave.Didyousleepwell?”Itossedhimintotheclosetandlockedthedoor.Icouldhearhimlaughinginsidethecloset.Theevillaughmademeshakeallover.WhatamIgoingtodonow?Iaskedmyself.WhatcanIdotogetridofthiscreature?Thedaydraggedby.Idon’tthinkIheardawordmyteachersaid.Icouldn’tgetSlappy’sevil,grinningfaceoutofmymind.Hisraspyvoicerattledinmyears.Iwon’tbeyourslave!Isilentlyvowed.I’llgetyououtofmyhouse—outofmylife—ifit’sthelastthingIdo!Thatnight,Ilaywideawakeinmybed.HowcouldIsleep,knowingthatevildummysatintheclosetafewfeetaway?

dummysatintheclosetafewfeetaway?Thenightwashotandsteamy.Ihadpushedthewindowopenalltheway,buttherewasnobreeze.Aflybuzzedbymyhead,thefirstflyofspring.Staringupatthetwistingshadowsontheceiling,Ibrushedtheflyawaywithonehand.Assoonasthebuzzingvanished,anothersoundtookitsplace.Aclick.Alowsqueak.Thesoundoftheclosetdooropening.Iraisedmyselfupoffthepillow.Squintingintothedarkness,IsawSlappycreepoutofthecloset.Hetookafewshufflingsteps,hisbigshoesslidingsilentlyovermycarpet.Heturned.Washecomingtowardmybed?No.Hisheadandshouldersbobbedashepulledhimselftothedoor.Thenoutintothehall.He’sgoingtoSara’sroom,Iknew.Butwhatwashegoingtodothere?Didheplantopayusbackforwhatwedidtohimlastnight?Whatnewhorrorwashegoingtocreate?Iloweredmyfeettothefloor,climbedoutofbed,andfollowedhimoutintothehall.

24Myeyesadjustedquicklytothedimyellowlightfromthenight-lightattheotherendofthehall.IwatchedSlappyslithertowardmysister’sroom.Hemovedassilentlyasashadow.IheldmybreathandkeptmybackagainstthewallasIfollowedbehindhim.WhenheturnedintoSara’sroom,Isteppedawayfromthewallandstartedtorun.IreachedthebedroomdoorwayintimetoseeSlappypickupawidepaintbrushfromSara’ssupplytable.Hetookasteptowardthemuralonthewall.Onestep.Andthenanothersmallfigureleapedoutofthedarkness.Thelightsflashedon.“Dennis!”Icried.“Standback!”Dennisorderedinahigh,shrillvoice.HeloweredhiswoodenheadandchargedatSlappy.Sarasatupinherbedandutteredafrightenedcry.IcouldseethestunnedexpressiononSlappy’sface.DennisflewatSlappy.HeslammedhisheadintoSlappy’smiddle.Slappyletoutaloud“Oooof!”Hestaggeredback.Fell.AloudthudrangthroughtheroomasthebackofSlappy’sheadhitSara’sironbedpost.IraisedbothhandstomycheeksandgaspedasSlappy’sheadcrackedopen.Thewoodenheadsplitdownthemiddle.Iwatchedtheevilfacecrackapart.Thewide,shockedeyesslidindifferentdirections.Theredlipscrackedandfellaway.Theheaddroppedtothefloorintwopieces.Andthenthebodycollapsedinaheapbesidethem.Myhandsstillpressedagainstmyface,myheartpounding,Itookafewstepsintotheroom.Dennisranpastme,outtothehall.ButmyeyeswerelockedonthetwopiecesofSlappy’shead.Istaredinhorror

ButmyeyeswerelockedonthetwopiecesofSlappy’shead.Istaredinhorrorasanenormouswhitewormcrawledoutofoneofthepieces.Thefatwormslitheredandcurledtothewall—andvanishedintoacrackinthemolding.Saraclimbedoutofbed,breathinghard,herfacebrightredfromtheexcitement.Theclosetdoorswungopen.MomandDadcameburstingout.“Girls—areyouokay?”Dadcried.Wenodded.“Wesawthewholething!”Momexclaimed.Shethrewherarmsaroundme.“Amy,I’msosorry.I’msosorry.Weshouldhavebelievedyou.I’msosorrywedidn’tbelieveyou.”“Webelieveyounow!”Daddeclared,staringdownatSlappy’sbrokenhead,hiscrumpledbody.“Wesaweverything!”Itwasallplanned.SaraandIhadworkeditoutbeforedinner.SaraconvincedMomandDadtohideinthecloset.MomandDadwerereallycreepedoutbythewayIwasacting.Theywerewillingtodoanything.SoSarapretendedtogotosleep.MomandDadhidinthecloset.IlefttheclosetdoorunlockedtomakeiteasierforSlappytogetout.IknewSlappywouldcreepintoSara’sroom.IknewMomandDadwouldfinallyseethatI’mnotcrazy.AndthenJedburstoutdressedasDennis,withDennis’sheadproppedupontopofhisturtlenecksweater.WeknewthatwouldshockSlappy.Weknewitwouldgiveusachancetograbhim.Wedidn’tknowwhatagreatjobJedwoulddo.Wedidn’tknowthatJedwouldactuallydestroytheevildummy.Wedidn’tknowthatSlappy’sleadwouldcrackapart.Thatwasjustgoodluck.“Hey—whereisJed?”Iasked,myeyessearchingtheroom.“Jed?Jed?”Momcalled.“Whereareyou?Youdidagreatjob!”Noreply.Nosignofmybrother.“Weird,”Saramuttered,shakingherhead.WealltroopeddownthehallintoJed’sroom.

WealltroopeddownthehallintoJed’sroom.Wefoundhiminbed,soundasleep.Hegroggilyraisedhisheadfromthepillowandsquintedatus.“Whattimeisit?”heaskedsleepily.“It’snearlyeleven,”Dadreplied.“Oh,no!”Jedcried,sittingup.“I’msorry!Iforgottowakeup!IforgotIwassupposedtodressuplikeDennis!”Ifeltashiverrundownmyback.Iturnedtomyparents.“ThenwhofoughtSlappy?”Iasked.“WhofoughtSlappy?”