They nodded.
“And what should number one on your list be?” Mom asked.
I took a wild guess. “That I won’t scare Brandon?”
They nodded again.
I lifted Slappy in front of me. I made his mouth move up and down. And I made him say, “I’m nice now! I’m nice now!”
Mom and Dad laughed. But Brandon stood there and glared angrily at me.
* * *
After breakfast, I waited for Elena to come over. I went up to my room to make my list of New Year’s resolutions. How would I change for the better next year?
I sat down at my computer and began to type:
I won’t scare Brandon too much.
I’ll help out more around the house when I can.
I’ll try my best to keep my collections neater.
These were pretty good. But I needed a few more.
I was struggling to think of a fourth one when Brandon wandered into my room. His eyes were on the dummy propped up in the rocking chair in front of the window.
“Don’t get mad or anything,” Brandon started. “I just want to ask you a favor.”
“Okay. Shoot,” I said.
“Would you get rid of that dummy?” Brandon asked. “It really scares me. Seriously.”
“Ooh, seriously,” I said, mimicking his voice. “That’s a big word for you.”
“Please —” Brandon said.
“I’ve got an idea,” I told him. “Go make your own list of New Year’s resolutions. Number one should be to grow up and be brave next year.”
Brandon opened his mouth to reply. But before he could speak, we heard a loud, angry YOWWWWWWLLLL from the window.
I leaped to my feet. “Oh, wow,” I said. “That was SLAPPY!”
Brandon gasped. His eyes bulged and he went pale.
I laughed. “You geek. That wasn’t the dummy.”
I ran to the window and peered down to the side of our yard.
Brandon didn’t move from beside my bed. He hugged himself and stared hard at Slappy.
I pointed out the window. “Look. Come here, Brandon. Look down there. It’s Bobo, the Willards’ cat.”
Brandon shuffled to the window and gazed down. Bobo, a small orange-and-white cat, pawed at the Willards’ back door. He uttered another yowl. I think he wanted back inside.
I slapped my brother on the back. “Way to go, baby. You were terrified by a little pussycat.”
Brandon pushed my arm away. “Awww, big deal. I still don’t like that dummy,” he snapped.
Elena walked into the room, shaking her head. “Brandon, you’re a big, strong guy,” she said. “You’re the biggest kid in the fourth grade, right? You shouldn’t be afraid of little kittens.”
Brandon’s face turned bright red. He wasn’t happy that Elena overheard everything. I think he kind of has a crush on her.
“I’m not afraid of kittens,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He pushed his black hair off his forehead. Then he turned and stomped out of my room.
Elena laughed. She has a high-pitched giggle. My mom says Elena has a face that always seems to be laughing.
She has wavy brown hair that she usually ties back in a ponytail. Green eyes and a stub of a nose with tiny freckles on her cheeks. When she smiles, her two front teeth poke out of her mouth. But she refuses to get braces.
Elena is short and thin like me. Today she wore a big yellow-and-black smiley face T-shirt pulled down over faded jeans with tears at both knees.
We’ve been friends since we were babies. We didn’t have a choice. Our parents all went to school together. They are all best friends.
“So?” Elena said, plopping down on the edge of my bed. “What about the New Year’s Eve party?”
“What about it?” I asked.
“Can we start getting your basement ready?” She picked up my pillow and began squeezing it between her hands.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “No reason.” She tossed the pillow at me. I ducked, and it bounced off my desk.
“Hey, I bought you a Christmas present,” she said.
I stared at her. “Really?”
She nodded. “You know your family is coming to my house to exchange presents this year. It’s our turn.”
I picked up the pillow and heaved it back at her. “What did you get me?” I asked.
She giggled. “I can’t tell. It’s a surprise.”
“Give me a hint,” I said.
She thought for a moment. “Well, it’s for your collection of old bottles.”
“Bet I can guess,” I said. “Is it an old bottle?”
“Not telling.” She jumped to her feet. “Whoa. What’s that ugly thing?”
She walked to the window and lifted Slappy from his rocking chair. “Hey, he’s heavy.”
“That’s Slappy,” I said. “I might start a collection of old dummies.”
Elena sniffed. “Yuck. He smells kind of ratty. You should have his suit cleaned.”
“I don’t think it comes off,” I said. “It’s sewn on or something.”
“He’s totally nasty looking,” she said. “Is Brandon afraid of him?”
“Three guesses,” I said.
Elena dropped the dummy back into the chair. She reached into the jacket pocket and pulled something out. “Ray, what’s this?”
“It’s a tiny Horror,” I said. “You know. Those dudes from HorrorLand.”
“Wait. There’s something else in the pocket,” Elena said. She slid her fingers in and pulled out a folded-up sheet of paper.
“I didn’t see that,” I said. “What is it? Instructions?” I grabbed for it, but Elena swung it away from me.
She turned her back and unfolded the paper. Then she started to read what was written there:
“ ‘Hello. My name is Slappy. I can be your friend. Just read these words aloud, and I will come to life. We can have a lot of fun together.’ ”
“Weird,” I said. “Totally weird.”
I leaned over Elena’s shoulder and studied the paper. I saw a bunch of strange, foreign-looking words at the bottom.
“What language is that?” I murmured.
“I don’t know. Let’s try it,” Elena said. She giggled. “Let’s bring the dummy to life!”
She lowered her eyes to the page and began to read….
“ ‘Karru … marri … odonna …’ ”
“NO! STOP!”
Brandon came diving into the room. “Stop it, Elena!” he screeched.
He swiped the paper away from her before she could finish reading the six words.
“Brandon — what is your problem?” Elena cried.
“Give it back to her,” I said.
Brandon shook his head. “No way.” He swung the paper behind his back.
“You don’t think the dummy will really come to life — do you?” Elena demanded.
Brandon didn’t budge.
“That’s way stupid,” Elena said. “It’s just a painted doll, Brandon. You can’t be that big a ’fraidy cat.”
Brandon blushed again.
I lifted Slappy into my arms. “Here. You hold him. You’ll see. He isn’t scary.”
I pushed the dummy toward Brandon. But he pushed it back.
“Just leave me alone,” he muttered. He folded up the paper and jammed it back into Slappy’s jacket pocket. “And stop making fun of me!”
Elena and I couldn’t help it. We both burst out laughing. We didn’t want to be mean. I guess it was just the frightened look on Brandon’s face.
My poor brother blushed even redder. “You’ll be sorry,” he muttered.
Suddenly, his eyes bulged. He made a choking sound.
“Brandon — what’s wrong?” I cried.
“The dummy! It — it —” He began pointing at it, furiously jabbing his finger toward it.
“The dummy’s eyes! I saw them blink!” Brandon screamed. “He’s alive! He’s alive!”
He
whirled around, screaming — and went running full speed out of my room.
Elena frowned at me. “You did that — didn’t you, Ray? You made the eyes blink?”
I nodded. A grin spread over my face. “Yeah. I did it.”
I heard Brandon’s heavy footsteps as he ran into his room and slammed the door shut.
“See? You pull this string,” I said. I turned the dummy around so that Elena could see. Then I made the eyes blink a few times. I could also make them move from side to side. It looked just like the dummy was glancing around the room.
Elena grabbed the dummy’s wooden hand and shook hands with it. “Way to go, dummy,” she said. “You sure have Ray’s little brother totally freaked.”
The dummy grinned its evil red-lipped grin at her.
“Brandon deserves it,” I said. “The big wimp totally ruined my trip to HorrorLand.”
“I know, I know.” Elena said with a groan. “He made you come home two days early. You told me that a hundred times.”
“It’s still true,” I said. I dropped Slappy onto his chair.
“Are we going to make plans for the party or what?” Elena said.
I started to answer, but Mom came bursting into the room.
Mom is a big, tall person like Brandon. And she can come on strong when she’s angry. Sometimes Dad calls her Hurricane. I guess because she can rush at you like a powerful wind.
Well, she was definitely in hurricane mode right now.
“Did you scare your brother again with that ugly dummy?” she shouted. Her dark eyes flared. She stopped and tapped one foot on the floor rapidly.
Tap tap tap tap.
“I didn’t do anything!” I cried. “I just made his eyes blink. How scary is that?”
“Well, put that dummy away,” Mom said. She crossed her arms tightly in front of her. “Put it away. I don’t want to hear any more about you scaring Brandon.”
“Okay,” I muttered. “You won’t hear any more.”
“Don’t be smart,” Mom snapped. She turned to Elena. “Tell him to be nice to his brother.”
“Ray, be nice to your brother,” Elena said.
Mom rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Ray.”
“No, I’m not,” Elena said. “I’m nice to Brandon. I think he’s cute.”
“Cute?” I cried. “He’s a hulk!”
Mom’s expression changed. “Brandon is cute,” she said. “He’s sweet, too. Know what he’s doing right now? He’s in his room, making his own Christmas wrapping paper with his paints.”
“Big whoop,” I muttered.
“You know he’s a wonderful artist,” Mom said. “I want you to stop picking on him. And be nice to him.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. I walked over to my computer and pointed to the screen. “Check it out, Mom. It’s my number one New Year’s resolution.”
I read it to her. The one about how I was going to be nicer to Brandon when I could.
Mom squinted at the screen. Then she turned to me. “I hope you mean these resolutions,” she said. “I hope you stick to them. If you don’t … no New Year’s party. I’m serious.”
“Don’t worry,” Elena chimed in. “I’ll make him stick to them, Mrs. Gordon. We really want that party.”
The phone rang. Mom hurried downstairs to answer it.
Elena crossed the room and stepped up to me. She snapped my nose with two fingers. “Don’t mess up, Ray,” she said.
“Ow.” I rubbed my nose. “How much do I hate it when you do that?”
She snapped my nose again. “A lot?”
“Go away,” I said. “You’re too violent.”
She laughed. “I have to go home anyway. But remember — everyone is counting on us to have this party.”
“No problem,” I muttered. “Catch you later.”
After she left, I sat at my computer. I tried to think of more New Year’s resolutions. But I couldn’t come up with any.
I turned and gazed at the dummy. I walked over and picked him up.
The glassy eyes seemed to stare at me. I saw a tiny chip in the dummy’s lower lip.
I reached into the jacket pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper. I put the dummy back on his chair. I unfolded the paper and stared at the six strange, foreign words.
Should I read them out loud?
Why not?
I held the paper in one hand and started to read …
“ ‘Karru … marri … odonna …’ ”
I admit it. As I slowly read the words, a shiver of fear ran down my back.
“ ‘… loma … molonu …’ ”
“Ray — come downstairs!”
Dad’s shout came before I could read the last word.
“Coming!” I called. I tucked the paper back into Slappy’s pocket and hurried down.
Dad was waiting with his parka on. “Come with me to the hardware store,” he said. “It might snow. I want to buy bags of salt for the driveway and front walk.”
“No problem,” I said.
I wanted to show Dad how helpful I could be. I raced to get my coat.
I felt pretty good.
The horror didn’t start until the next day.
“Whoa. These are heavy,” I said.
Dad lifted a paint can off the pile. “Hold it by the handle,” he said. “Then put a hand under the bottom.”
He carried the can to the wall and set it down next to some others. “I’ll do the gallon cans,” he said. “You carry the half gallons.”
We were in the basement, clearing a space for my New Year’s party. I didn’t count them. But there were paint cans stacked high all over the room. Dozens and dozens of paint cans to move out of the way.
My dad had a paint store in town. But it went out of business a few months ago. Dad is storing his paint cans down here until he figures out what to do with them.
“We’ll make a wall of cans over here,” Dad said. “And we can stack some more over by the washing machine.”
I lifted a can in each hand and staggered toward the wall. “Wish Elena was here,” I said with a groan. “She’s missing out on the fun part.”
“Did you call her?” Dad asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Her mom said she had a tennis lesson.”
Dad tilted a can of paint in his hands and read the label. “This is good stuff,” he said. “Maybe I’ll save it and paint the kitchen.”
I started to say something — but stopped.
A shrill scream of horror made me drop the paint cans I was carrying.
Another high, shrill scream rang down from upstairs.
“Hey — that’s Brandon!” I cried.
I started for the basement stairs — stumbled over a paint can and banged my knee as I went down. Dad reached the stairs first. He went roaring up them two at a time.
Rubbing my knee, I followed him to Brandon’s room.
Mom was already there. Her eyes were wide. She had her hands pressed against her cheeks. Her face was very red.
“Ray — how could you do this?” she said through clenched teeth.
“Huh?”
I gazed around the room. My heart skipped a beat. I made a choking sound.
Brandon’s whole room had been trashed!
Brandon sat hunched on his bed. He had his hands over his face. His big shoulders were heaving up and down. He was sobbing loudly.
“I — I —” I stuttered.
I blinked at the mess. Shreds of Brandon’s homemade wrapping paper were tossed everywhere. On the desk. On the floor. All over his bed.
The wrapping paper had been ripped to pieces. Strips of it, still wet, were stuck to his mirror and the wall.
The paint jars rolled on their sides. Thick puddles of red and blue paint spread over his white shag rug. His bedspread was smeared with yellow paint.
“How could you? How could you?” Mom repeated, staring hard at me. When she pulled her hands away, I could see tears running down her face.
“Ray, how could you
do something so horrible to your brother?” she demanded. She didn’t yell. Her voice was a raspy whisper.
Dad had his hands balled into tight fists. He looked kind of sick, like he might puke. He shook his head sadly and didn’t look at me.
“I — I didn’t,” I choked out.
Brandon lifted his head. Tears filled his eyes. He made a sound like glub glub. Then he wailed, “I worked so hard on my wrapping paper!”
He started to sob some more.
I had this heavy feeling in my stomach, like I’d just swallowed a huge rock. Brandon is such a big guy, I always forget he’s only nine.
Dad grabbed my shoulder. “I’m very disappointed in you, Ray.”
“But I didn’t do it!” I screamed. “I swear! I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t do it!”
Dad let go of my shoulder and took a step back. He and Mom both glared at me.
“Don’t lie,” Dad said. “Don’t make it worse by lying.”
Brandon uttered a loud sob. He used his bedspread to wipe the tears off his face.
I started to cross the room. My shoes stuck in shreds of wet wrapping paper.
“I didn’t do this!” I cried. “Don’t keep staring at me like that. I didn’t do it — really!”
“Ray, stop,” Mom said softly. “Just stop.”
Dad shook his head again. “You really don’t expect us to believe that the dummy made this mess — do you?”
“Huh? Dummy?”
Dad pointed to the corner of the room by Brandon’s closet.
“Oh … noooo,” I moaned.
Slappy sat on the floor in the corner, propped up against the wall.
I took a few steps toward him.
He had shreds of wrapping paper in his lap. And as I came closer, I saw spots of red and yellow paint on his hands.
The dummy grinned up at me, as if pleased with himself.
“But — but —” I sputtered. “How did he get in here?” I turned to my parents. “I didn’t put him there. I swear! I didn’t do this!”
What a horrible mess. Of course Mom and Dad didn’t believe me.
I wouldn’t believe me, either, if I was them.
How did that dummy get there? And how could he do all this damage?
Karru marri odonna … The strange foreign words slipped into my head. The words that were supposed to bring the dummy to life.