شبی با عروسک زنده فصل 16

Night of the Living Dummy - Chapter 16

After school a few days later, Kris walked home with Cody. It was a hot, humid afternoon. The trees were still, and seemed to throw little shade on the sidewalk. The air above the pavement shimmered in the heat.

“Wish we had a swimming pool,” Kris muttered, pulling her backpack off her shoulder.

“I wish you had one, too,” Cody said, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his red T-shirt.

“I’d like to dive into an enormous pool of iced tea,” Kris said, “like in the TV commercials. It always looks so cold and refreshing.” Cody made a face. “Swim in iced tea? With ice cubes and lemon?”

“Forget it,” Kris muttered.

They crossed the street. A couple of kids they knew rode by on bikes. Two men in white uniforms were up on ladders, leaning against the corner house, painting the gutters.

“Bet they’re hot,” Cody remarked.

“Let’s change the subject,” Kris suggested.

“How are you doing with Mr. Wood?” Cody asked.

“Not bad,” Kris said. “I think I’ve got some pretty good jokes. I should be ready for the concert tomorrow night.” They stopped at the corner and let a large blue van rumble past.

“Are you talking to your sister?” Cody asked as they crossed the street. The bright sunlight made his white-blond hair glow.

“A little,” Kris said, making a face. “I’m talking to her. But I haven’t forgiven her.”

“That was such a dumb stunt she pulled,” Cody said sympathetically. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“It just made me feel like such a dork,” Kris admitted. “I mean, I was so stupid. She really had me believing that Mr. Wood was doing all that stuff.” Kris shook her head. Thinking about it made her feel embarrassed all over again.

Her house came into view. She unzipped the back compartment of her backpack and searched for the keys.

“Did you tell your mom about Lindy’s practical joke?” Cody asked.

Kris shook her head. “Mom is totally disgusted. We’re not allowed to mention the dummies to her. Dad got home from Portland last night, and Mom told him what was going on. So we’re not allowed to mention the dummies to him, either!” She found the keys and started up the drive. “Thanks for walking home with me.” “Yeah. Sure.” Cody gave her a little wave and continued on toward his house up the street.

Kris pushed the key into the front door lock. She could hear Barky jumping and yipping excitedly on the other side of the door. “I’m coming, Barky,” she called in. “Hold your horses.” She pushed open the door. Barky began leaping on her, whimpering as if she’d been away for months. “Okay, okay!” she cried laughing.

It took several minutes to calm the dog down. Then Kris got a snack from the kitchen and headed up to her room to practice with Mr. Wood.

She hoisted the dummy up from the chair where it had spent the day beside Lindy’s dummy. A can of Coke in one hand, the dummy over her shoulder, she headed to the dressing table and sat down in front of the mirror.

This was the best time of day to rehearse, Kris thought. No one was home. Her parents were at work. Lindy was at some after-school activity.

She arranged Mr. Wood on her lap. “Time to go to work,” she made him say, reaching into his back to move his lips. She made his eyes slide back and forth.

A button on his plaid shirt had come unbuttoned. Kris leaned him down against the dressing table and started to fasten it.

Something caught her eye. Something yellow inside the pocket.

“Weird,” Kris said aloud. “I never noticed anything in there.”

Slipping two fingers into the slender pocket, she pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper, folded up.

Probably just the receipt for him, Kris thought.

She unfolded the sheet of paper and held it up to read it.

It wasn’t a receipt. The paper contained a single sentence handwritten very cleanly in bold black ink. It was in a language Kris didn’t recognize. “Did someone send you a love note, Mr. Wood?” she asked the dummy.

It stared up at her lifelessly.

Kris lowered her eyes to the paper and read the strange sentence out loud:

“Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”

What language is that? Kris wondered.

She glanced down at the dummy and uttered a low cry of surprise.

Mr. Wood appeared to blink.

But that wasn’t possible—was it?

Kris took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

The dummy stared up at her, his painted eyes as dull and wide open as ever.

Let’s not get paranoid, Kris scolded herself.

“Time to work, Mr. Wood,” she told him. She folded up the piece of yellow paper and slipped it back into his shirt pocket. Then she raised him to a sitting position, searching for the eye and mouth controls with her hand.

“How are things around your house, Mr. Wood?”

“Not good, Kris. I’ve got termites. I need termites like I need another hole in my head! Ha-ha!”

“Lindy! Kris! Could you come downstairs, please!” Mr. Powell called from the foot of the stairs.

It was after dinner, and the twins were up in their room. Lindy was sprawled on her stomach on the bed, reading a book for school. Kris was in front of the dressing table mirror, rehearsing quietly with Mr. Wood for tomorrow night’s concert.

“What do you want, Dad?” Lindy shouted down, rolling her eyes.

“We’re kind of busy,” Kris shouted, shifting the dummy on her lap.

“The Millers are here, and they’re dying to see your ventriloquist acts,” their father shouted up.

Lindy and Kris both groaned. The Millers were the elderly couple who lived next door. They were very nice people, but very boring.

The twins heard Mr. Powell’s footsteps on the stairs. A few seconds later, he poked his head into their room. “Come on, girls. Just put on a short show for the Millers. They came over for coffee, and we told them about your dummies.” “But I have to rehearse for tomorrow night,” Kris insisted.

“Rehearse on them,” her father suggested. “Come on. Just do five minutes. They’ll get a real kick out of it.” Sighing loudly, the girls agreed. Carrying their dummies over their shoulders, they followed their father down to the living room.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller were side by side on the couch, coffee mugs in front of them on the low coffee table. They smiled and called out cheerful greetings as the girls appeared.

Kris was always struck by how much the Millers looked alike. They both had slender, pink faces topped with spongy white hair. They both wore silver-framed bifocals, which slipped down on nearly identical, pointy noses. They both had the same smile. Mr. Miller had a small, gray mustache. Lindy always joked that he grew it so the Millers could tell each other apart.

Is that what happens to you when you’ve been married a long time? Kris found herself thinking. You start to look exactly alike?

The Millers were even dressed alike, in loose-fitting tan Bermuda shorts and white cotton sports shirts.

“Lindy and Kris took up ventriloquism a few weeks ago,” Mrs. Powell was explaining, twisting herself forward to see the girls from the armchair. She motioned them to the center of the room. “And they both seem to have some talent for it.” “Have you girls ever heard of Bergen and McCarthy?” Mrs. Miller asked, smiling.

“Who?” Lindy and Kris asked in unison.

“Before your time,” Mr. Miller said, chuckling. “They were a ventriloquist act.”

“Can you do something for us?” Mrs. Miller asked, picking up her coffee mug and setting it in her lap.

Mr. Powell pulled a dining room chair into the center of the room. “Here. Lindy, why don’t you go first?” He turned to the Millers. “They’re very good. You’ll see,” he said.

Lindy sat down and arranged Slappy on her lap. The Millers applauded. Mrs. Miller nearly spilled her coffee, but she caught the mug just in time.

“Don’t applaud—just throw money!” Lindy made Slappy say. Everyone laughed as if they’d never heard that before.

Kris watched from the stairway as Lindy did a short routine. Lindy was really good, she had to admit. Very smooth. The Millers were laughing so hard, their faces were bright red. An identical shade of red. Mrs. Miller kept squeezing her husband’s knee when she laughed.

Lindy finished to big applause. The Millers gushed about how wonderful she was. Lindy told them about the TV show she might be on, and they promised they wouldn’t miss it. “We’ll tape it,” Mr. Miller said.

Kris took her place on the chair and sat Mr. Wood up in her lap. “This is Mr. Wood,” she told the Millers. “We’re going to be the hosts of the spring concert at school tomorrow night. So I’ll give you a preview of what we’re going to say.” “That’s a nice-looking dummy,” Mrs. Miller said quietly.

“You’re a nice-looking dummy, too!” Mr. Wood declared in a harsh, raspy growl of a voice.

Kris’ mother gasped. The Millers’ smiles faded.

Mr. Wood leaned forward on Kris’ lap and stared at Mr. Miller. “Is that a mustache, or are you eating a rat?” he asked nastily.

Mr. Miller glanced uncomfortably at his wife, then forced a laugh. They both laughed.

“Don’t laugh so hard. You might drop your false teeth!” Mr. Wood shouted. “And how do you get your teeth that disgusting shade of yellow? Does your bad breath do that?” “Kris!” Mrs. Powell shouted. “That’s enough!”

The Millers’ faces were bright red now, their expressions bewildered.

“That’s not funny. Apologize to the Millers,” Mr. Powell insisted, crossing the room and standing over Kris.

“I—I didn’t say any of it!” Kris stammered. “Really, I—”

“Kris—apologize!” her father demanded angrily.

Mr. Wood turned to the Millers. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry you’re so ugly! I’m sorry you’re so old and stupid, too!” The Millers stared at each other unhappily. “I don’t get her humor,” Mrs. Miller said.

“It’s just crude insults,” Mr. Miller replied quietly.

“Kris—what is wrong with you?” Mrs. Powell demanded. She had crossed the room to stand beside her husband. “Apologize to the Millers right now! I don’t believe you!” “I—I—” Gripping Mr. Wood tightly around the waist, Kris rose to her feet. “I—I—” She tried to utter an apology, but no words would come out.

“Sorry!” she finally managed to scream. Then, with an embarrassed cry, she turned and fled up the stairs, tears streaming down her face.