“If we do what you say … you’ll really just leave?” Kelly said.
Both dummies nodded. “We can’t wait to get out of here,” Slappy said.
“But you said you wanted to ruin our dad,” Kelly said.
“Forget all that,” Slappy replied. “You do one thing for us, and we’re outta here. I swear.” He raised his right hand.
Kelly and I exchanged glances. We were both thinking the same question: What horrible thing did they want us to do?
“Will you do it?” Slappy asked.
“Slappy, say please,” Snappy chimed in.
“Will you do it?” Slappy repeated, ignoring him.
“Depends,” I said.
“It isn’t dangerous,” Slappy said. “No one will get hurt. It’s kind of a joke. You’ll see. It’s funny.”
He handed me a small black earbud. “Slip that in your ear, Luke.”
I held it between my fingers and examined it. “Where did you get this?”
“From your father’s equipment room,” Slappy replied. “I just borrowed it. Go ahead. Put it in your ear.”
I studied it some more. Then I pushed it into my right ear.
“It’s a tiny speaker,” Slappy explained. “I’m going to speak into your ear. You’ll be able to hear me clearly.”
“And what do I do?” I demanded.
“You just repeat everything I say,” Slappy explained. “It’s so simple, even a dummy like YOU can understand it.”
“Be polite,” Snappy scolded.
Slappy raised his wooden hand and gave Snappy a hard slap on the head. “Is that polite enough for you?”
Kelly shook her head. “This sounds like a bad idea,” she said softly.
“I promise no one will get hurt,” Slappy repeated. “Your father’s guest, Mr. Benedict, has arrived. Luke, you go in and say hello to him. Then repeat everything I say. Everything, do you understand?”
“And then what?” I said.
“Then Snappy and I will disappear. You will be rid of us. And you will have saved your dad a lot of pain and trouble.”
“This is too good to be true,” Kelly whispered.
“I’ll do it,” I whispered back. “It’s worth a try. If it means we can save Dad from these two.”
I turned to Slappy. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Good boy,” Slappy said. His eyes flashed. “Remember. Repeat everything I say. Don’t leave anything out. If you don’t follow my instruction, Snappy and I will stay here. And I promise you won’t be happy.”
I turned and started toward the back door. “Come on, Kelly. Let’s go.”
Slappy grabbed Kelly’s wrist. “No. She stays here. You’re on your own.”
“Luke—are you sure you want to do this?” Kelly asked, trying to pull away.
I swallowed. “Do I have a choice?”
I walked into the breakfast room. Dad and Mr. Benedict were just settling down at the table. Dad was pouring orange juice from a silver pitcher.
Mr. Benedict was wearing a dark gray suit jacket over jeans. He had a pale T-shirt under the jacket. He was bald and his head was sort of light bulb shaped. He was very tanned, which made his blue eyes appear to glow. He had a silver ring in one ear and gray stubble on his cheeks.
He took a sip of orange juice, then smiled as I walked in.
“Simon, this is my son, Luke,” Dad said. He squinted at me. “Luke, did you finish your breakfast already?”
Before I could answer, I heard Slappy’s voice in my ear. He said: “Repeat after me. Mr. Benedict, is that a huge ugly wart on your shoulders, or is that your head?”
“Oh.” I groaned.
“Go ahead. Repeat it,” Slappy ordered, his voice tinny in the little earbud.
“Mr. Benedict,” I said, “Is that a huge ugly wart on your shoulders, or is that your head?”
Benedict blinked. He twisted his face in confusion. I could see he didn’t really believe what he heard.
“Repeat after me,” Slappy said in my ear. “Is that your nose, or are you eating a cucumber?”
“Is that your nose, or are you eating a cucumber?” I repeated.
Benedict’s cheeks turned pink. He turned to my dad. “David, I didn’t know your son was a comedian.”
“I—I didn’t, either,” Dad stammered. “Luke—what’s the big idea?”
“Dad says your nickname is Walrus Butt. Is that true?” Slappy said.
I choked. I almost gagged.
“Repeat it,” Slappy ordered. “You want to save your dad from me—don’t you? You want me to go away forever?”
“Dad says your nickname is Walrus Butt. Is that true?” I said.
My stomach lurched. I felt sick. I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t bear to see the angry look on Mr. Benedict’s face.
Dad’s chair scraped the floor as he jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry, Simon,” he said. “Luke has never done this before. I apologize for him.”
Dad grabbed my shoulder. “Luke, this isn’t funny.”
Slappy’s voice rang in my ear: “Dad says your IQ is the same as your belt size.”
“Dad says your IQ is the same as your belt size,” I repeated. I felt as if I’d left my own body, and someone else was saying these things.
“Dad told us you give crooks a bad name.”
“Dad told us you give crooks a bad name.”
“Luke—stop!” Dad screamed.
Benedict was on his feet now. His face looked like a red light bulb, and he was breathing hard. “Talk later, David,” he said to my father. He took long strides to the front door and didn’t look back.
“Simon, wait—” Dad called.
But the door slammed behind Benedict. He was gone.
Dad held me by the shoulders. “What was that about, Luke? What’s wrong with you? Why did you do that?”
My head was spinning. My stomach felt as if a roller coaster was going up and down inside it. “Dad, it—it was the dummies,” I stammered.
“NO!” he boomed. “No, Luke. No dummy story.”
I pulled the earbud from my ear. “Slappy said those things and made me repeat them.”
Dad took it from my hand. He held it to his ear. Of course, it was silent now.
He sighed. “I don’t know what to do about you. I’m really stumped.”
“They’re out on the patio,” I said. “Both of them. Slappy and Snappy. Kelly will tell you. I’m not making it up.”
Dad didn’t say a word. He spun away from me and started toward the back door. I hurried after him.
We stepped outside. Kelly was sitting at the table, tapping a foot nervously, waiting for me to return. She waved from the other side of the pool. Lucy was coming out of the pool house, carrying a stack of towels.
I tugged Dad’s arm. “They’re over here, Dad. Around the side of the house.”
I pulled Dad around the corner. No one there. The dummies were gone.
Dad shook his head. I suddenly realized he was more sad than angry. He must have thought I was going wacko.
I ran back to the patio. “Kelly—where did the dummies go?” I shouted.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They told me to stay here.”
“Why are you and your sister playing this dumb game?” Dad asked. “What do you hope to gain? I have no choice, Luke. I have to ground you.”
I bit my bottom lip. “It’s not a game, Dad. Kelly and I are trying to save you.”
“Ha! That’s a good one,” Dad said. “Save me by insulting the producer of my movie? By making up crazy stories? You’re frightening me, Luke. I’m being very honest with you. You and your sister are frightening me.”
“But, Dad—”
“Not another word,” he said. “Follow me. Now.” He started back into the house.
“Dad, where are we going?”
“Just follow me.” We walked past the breakfast room. The food for his breakfast meeting with Simon Benedict sat uneaten on the table. Dad sighed as we passed it and turned into
the back hall.
We climbed the attic stairs and stepped into the attic. Morning sunlight poured into the windows, sending bright beams of light over the display cases.
“Look,” Dad said. He stopped in front of the glass case at the end.
The two dummies were inside, sprawled lifelessly on their backs. Their legs were folded beneath them. Their arms hung limply at their sides. Their big eyes gazed blankly up at the low attic ceiling.
“Big surprise,” Dad said. “They haven’t moved from this case, Luke.”
“Dad, listen—”
“No. I don’t have time to listen. Help me carry these dummies downstairs. I have a special van coming to take them to the studio. This morning is the first day of filming. And I’m very sorry you and Kelly and Jamal won’t be joining us.”
Dad unlocked the case, and we lifted the dummies out. I slung Slappy over my shoulder and followed Dad to the stairs. I walked slowly. I let Dad get ahead.
I stopped at the top of the stairs and waited till Dad was all the way down. Then I lifted Slappy’s head and whispered: “You promised! You promised if I did what you said, you and your brother would disappear. You promised!”
The dummy’s eyes blinked open. The ugly grin appeared to grow wider. “Hahahahaha!” he laughed. “I’m a dirty liar!”
Hahaha. I told you the best way to spell Luke’s name. Why did he believe me in the first place? Only a dummy would believe a dummy. Haha. It turns out that Luke is the one with sawdust for brains! Hahaha.
Actually, I’m an honest dude. I always tell the truth. Unless I can think of a good lie! Ha.
I loved it when he called Simon Benedict Walrus Butt. Haha. Hope I didn’t offend any walruses in the audience. If I did … tusk tusk.
Ha. Let’s get back to Luke’s story. Guess what? It gets even scarier.
Big surprise?
Later that afternoon, Kelly, Jamal, and I were in the garage, working on our drone project. The propellers were harder to connect than anyone thought. Jamal thought we had the wrong bolts.
“But they’re the bolts that came with the kit,” I argued.
He scrunched up his face. “That doesn’t mean they’re the right bolts.”
Kelly sighed. “Dad has probably started filming now. I can’t believe we’re not there.”
“I can’t believe it, either,” Jamal said, shaking his head. “My one chance to be in a movie.” He let the propeller in his hand drop to the garage floor. “Know what else I don’t believe?”
I turned to him. “You don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy?”
“Remind me to laugh,” he said. “I don’t believe your father doesn’t believe us. Does he really think we are total liars?”
“Yes, he does,” I said. “Would you believe us? The whole dummy thing is too crazy to believe.”
“I wouldn’t believe it, either,” Kelly said. “And we weren’t able to prove it to Dad. We failed every time we thought we had proof.”
Jamal shook his head again. His dark hair flopped over his forehead. “But … it isn’t right. Doesn’t he trust you two at all?”
“Jamal, you have to understand one thing,” I said. “Dad is in the movie business. People tell him wild stories all the time.”
“But … we were trying to help him,” Jamal said. “Those dummies want to hurt him. They want to ruin his movie.”
“You know it, and I know it,” I replied. “But Dad doesn’t know it.”
“Dad won’t listen to us no matter what,” Kelly said. She picked up the steel propeller and pushed it into Jamal’s hands. “Come on. We want to finish this thing and fly it, don’t we?”
Jamal bent down and grabbed a handful of the long metal bolts from the floor. “You two hold the propeller in place. Let me see …”
Kelly and I raised the propeller over the frame.
Jamal dropped a bolt into one of the holes in the steel. Then he lowered the propeller onto the frame. “Hmm … Maybe …” he muttered.
Then he stopped.
And his eyes bulged in surprise.
“Hey—” he cried. “Whoa. I mean—whoa.”
I turned toward the back of the garage. I tried to follow his gaze. “I—I don’t see anything,” I stammered.
“That’s the point,” Jamal said, still wide-eyed. “I don’t see anything, either.”
“What do you mean?” Kelly demanded.
“The propane tank,” Jamal said. “Where is it? It’s gone.”
“Ohhh.” A moan escaped my throat. I stared at the spot near the wall where the big tank had stood. Then my eyes quickly swept the whole garage. “Yes. Gone,” I murmured.
Kelly grabbed my arm. “You don’t think—?”
“The dummies,” I said. “Is it possible? The dummies were being taken to the studio in a large van. Do you think they took the propane tank along with them?” A shudder ran down my whole body.
“They’re going to blow up your dad’s studio,” Jamal said. “Don’t you see? People could get killed! We have to do something!”
I grabbed my phone. “I’ll text Dad. I’ll warn him.”
Kelly frowned at me. “Like he’ll believe you?”
“I’ll call him and explain,” I said.
“He’ll probably laugh,” Jamal said.
“Or he’ll get even angrier at us,” Kelly added. “Dad doesn’t believe the dummies are alive, Luke. So he won’t believe anything we say about them taking the propane tank. He’ll think we put it in the van.”
“He’s got to believe,” Jamal said. “We have to make him believe.”
I tried to swallow but my mouth was as dry as cotton. “Dad could be killed,” I said, my voice cracking on the words. “A lot of people could be killed. I have no choice. I have to try to reach him.”
My hand trembled. I nearly dropped the phone. I brought the phone close to my face and texted Dad:
Need to talk to you. Urgent.
Then I held the phone up and waited for a reply.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“Try calling,” Jamal said.
I squinted at the screen, found Dad’s number, and punched it in.
The phone went straight to his voicemail:
“This is David Harrison. Leave a message.”
“Dad, where are you?” I said after the beep. “Call us. It’s really important.”
“He’s probably on the set,” Kelly said. “Maybe he started filming already. He won’t see his phone. He’ll be too busy.”
“We have to go there,” Jamal said. “We have to go to the studio. Maybe we can warn him in time.”
“Don’t say maybe,” I said. “We have no choice. We have to warn him in time.”
“But how do we get there?” Kelly said. “We can’t walk to Burbank.”
“A taxi?” I said. “Do you have any money?”
“I have a taxi app on my phone,” Jamal said. “My parents gave it to me to come home from my cello lessons.” He pulled out his phone and started typing, calling for a car. “It will be here in seven minutes,” he said.
I was so tense, I was hopping up and down. “What do we do for seven minutes?”
“Worry?” Kelly answered.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Or maybe …” I tried Dad’s number again. Again, it went straight to voicemail.
I texted again.
No reply.
We waited in the driveway for the car, and the driver pulled up in a red Toyota about ten minutes later.
The ride from our house in the Hollywood Hills to Dad’s studio in Burbank is about half an hour. I usually think it’s exciting to drive past the Warner Brothers lot and Disney Studios. But today, everything outside the car window was just a blur.
The three of us didn’t say a word the whole way there. I kept trying to call Dad, but he didn’t answer.
We directed the driver to the Horror House Films parking lot. “Pull into that driveway,” I said. “We have to stop at the sec
urity booth.”
I rolled down my window when we pulled up to the little round booth. A guard in a dark blue uniform and cap leaned out. He had long gray hair falling from the cap. He wore thick eyeglasses that glinted in the sun.
He must have been new. I’d never seen him before.
“We need to see David Harrison,” I said.
He pulled out a long clipboard. “Name?”
“Luke Harrison. I’m his son. And that’s my sister, Kelly, and our friend Jamal.”
He studied the clipboard.
My heart was pounding. “We’re kind of in a hurry,” I said.
He raised his eyes to me. “I don’t see your names on the list.”
“I know,” I said, feeling panic rise up in my chest. “He isn’t expecting us. But I told you, he’s our dad.”
He stared at me through the thick eyeglasses. “I can’t really let anyone in unless their name is on the list.”
That’s when I lost it. “I’m his son!” I screamed. “I need to see my dad!”
Our driver ducked his head. I think my shout startled him.
The parking guard checked his clipboard again. He picked up a phone. “I’ll try to reach him.” He squinted at me. “What is your name again?”
I gritted my teeth. “Luke Harrison.”
He pushed some numbers on his phone and listened. Then he poked his head out of the booth again. “No one is answering.”
My throat tightened. “You’re not going to let us in?”
“Sorry, but I could lose my job. You have to be on the list.”
“But we’re just kids!” I cried. “You have to—”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Seriously. I’m real sorry.”
Kelly, Jamal, and I sat in the car staring out at him. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The other guards all knew Kelly and me because we always arrived with Dad.
This was crazy. We were so close …
Suddenly Jamal spoke up. He leaned over the seat and whispered to the driver. “Ask him if you can pull in and turn around.”
It took me a few seconds to figure out what Jamal had in mind. Beside me, Kelly tensed. She figured it out, too.
The guard waved the driver into the parking lot. “Just make a circle and come back out.”