“I look up and I don’t see your mom and my dad. Nope. I see a living dead panda bear lumbering in the hall. I’ll be honest.” He squeezed Clyde. “I thought he was going to eat us.”
Tin circled around Pando.
“He came wobbling in with those big green buttons on his face and stood in front of your sister’s half-dead tree and just stared. I mean staaaaaaared. No one moved. Not Clyde or me or Baby Doll. Well, Soldier did. And your sister. But the rest of us, ready to pee.”
“Is she all right?”
“Your sister? Oh, she stopped reading for like a second and went right back to it. Like she’s seen stuffed pandas all her life.”
Pando followed her approach, the head turning on a thick neck. Piggy squeezed her tightly. Pando was in good shape. He didn’t smell moldy or have any matted patches of fur. He smelled like the loft, green and earthy.
“Did Mom say anything?”
“Uh, no. But then he wasn’t moving when she got here. This is the new normal, Tin. Toys walking around. I’m not totally digging it.”
Pando turned his head almost in a complete circle.
“The million-dollar question,” Corey said, “is why you put the hat on. Because I thought the plan was to leave it out there. But that’s just me, so—”
“How did you know?”
The evidence was six feet tall. Every time she put it on, there was a noise and something else. Where was Pando when the other toys woke up? Maybe it took him longer to get here.
She pulled the hat out of her coat. Pando’s head turned quickly. She twirled it on her fist.
“I think I know where all the power is being diverted.” She told Corey about the hat being yanked from her hand, how she was nearly knocked out going through the wall. “It was different than before.”
“So then you put the hat on. Makes total sense.”
“I was looking for answers.”
That was sort of the truth. She was convinced the hat would somehow signal a rescue if she got it outside the wall. It didn’t matter if it was Santa Claus or Mutant Ninja Turtles. But Wallace had planned for that.
How did the wall get turned up?
Tin stubbed her toe. Something tumbled across the floor.
“What’s he doing?” she said.
Baby Doll was on the couch, but the wooden nutcracker had been standing directly in front of Pando when she accidentally kicked him. Stiff and rigid, the square mouth made for cracking walnuts was wide open.
A rhythmic thumping was in the hall. A shadow stretched into the lobby. Tin was damp with melted snow. She wrapped the comforter around herself just as Pip came skipping into the room.
“Tin!” Pip leaped on the couch and crawled under the comforter with her. “Piggy!”
“Where have you been?” Mom looked at the front door. Puddles of melting snow led to the fireplace.
“I, uh, I was outside just for fresh air. I didn’t go far. I heard the rumble again and came right back.”
“You heard a rumble?” Mom looked at Corey.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Oh, I thought… maybe it was nothing.”
“So when Corey said you were in the workshop—”
“He lied, yeah.”
Mom folded her arms tightly.
“Sorry, Mom, really I am. Did you get the boiler room figured out?”
She shook her head, chin wrinkled with frustration. Pando was sitting on the floor. It didn’t occur to Tin that he was standing when she got there, balancing on both legs. Now he looked completely inanimate.
All the toys did.
“Where did you find the panda?” Mom said.
“In the workshop,” Tin said. That wasn’t a lie. “It’s Pando, remember?”
“I thought you didn’t go to the workshop?”
“We did, the other day. He was there. I swear.”
Pip snuggled against Tin, the sucking sound of her thumb finding its rhythm. She was already sleep-flinching into a late nap. Mom was nodding along, thinking. This was a good time to be quiet.
“Corey.” Oscar was heading to the kitchen. “Let’s get dinner started.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Leave the bear.”
Corey was more than happy to get out of her mom’s glare, but Clyde didn’t want to let go. Corey had to pull him off.
“Sorry,” Corey whispered. “Be right back, buddy.”
He pushed him under the comforter. Clyde crawled next to Piggy. It was getting hot. Mom was examining Pando, pacing around the giant panda bear, dragging her fingers through the fur. Pando was listing to the side, head lying at an angle.
“We’re not going to have power,” Mom said. “The system is too complicated. Wallace must’ve had it updated before he left. It’s going to be cold and no water since the pump is down. We’ll need to conserve. Hopefully the storm lets up and we can work on getting around the tree.”
Mom leaned over the couch and tickled Pip. Or what she thought was Pip. It was actually Piggy.
“Pip, hon. Too late for a nap. Let’s get cleaned up and see if Oscar needs help.”
There was moaning and complaining, but she eventually crawled out and dragged Monkeybrain by one arm. Mom watched her till she was out of the room.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing, Mom. I told you, I just wanted fresh air.”
“You have no idea how transparent you are.”
“I’m sixteen, Mom. I have secrets. So does this house. And so did Wallace and Awnty Awnie.”
“What secrets?”
“I’ll let you know when I find out.”
This was the parenting crossroads. Sometimes she pushed a little harder; sometimes she gave a little space. There was only so much she could do with a sixteen-year-old. She patted Tin’s leg and sat.
“You’re my first child.”
“I know, Mom.”
“What I mean is that you’re not a baby anymore. When you were little, there was never any space between us, you know what I mean? I loved that. But I’m your mother and my job isn’t to keep you a child. It’s to let you grow up. It’s to help you be your own person. One day, I won’t be your mother. I mean, I’ll always be the one who gave birth to you, but not your mother.”
She patted her leg and smiled.
“I love you because you’re my daughter, but I like you, too. My parents wouldn’t have said that about me. I’ll always have your back. I’ll be on Team Tinsley no matter what. I’ll let you make all the mistakes you have to make to grow up. It’s the only way to learn. I just don’t want you to make a mistake that you can’t take back.”
She brushed Tin’s hair from her eyes.
“Don’t go outside again.” Her mom smiled grimly. “Understand?”
Tin nodded. Is it already too late?
14
It was a hot-air balloon drifting softly, smoothly into an endless blue sky. Up, up it went. Tin knew she was dreaming. She wanted to stay, but she floated toward waking.
If you want to play…
The song weighed the balloon down, each word like a sandbag.
And stay out all day…
She was falling deeper into sleep. It felt so good. The song was taking her back where dreams would mold the ground into whatever she wanted.
I know the place we can do it—
The sunlight was white and blinding. Tin’s eyelashes clung together. A pig was inches from her face, with little black eyes staring into hers, stumpy front legs on her cheeks.
“Piggy,” she grumbled, “what are you doing?”
Pip was cuddled against her. Monkeybrain was on her shoulder. There was another lump with them. That would be Baby Doll.
The other couches were occupied.
Mom and Oscar were side by side, the comforter half on the floor. Mom squeezed a pillow to her chin like a stuffed animal. Corey was buried in his sleeping bag.
White embers settled in the fireplace. The logs we
re blackened. Tin couldn’t see her breath. It was warm inside the lobby. The sun was up and the trees were still. It was midmorning.
Everyone was still asleep.
“I don’t want to…” Pip rolled over.
Tin wasn’t sure why, but Piggy woke her up then crawled under the sleeping bag. Pando was sitting in front of the sad little tree. No one woke up in the night to tend the fire. Tin was the first one up.
Thanks to Piggy.
Mom picked her head up. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten,” Tin said.
Mom sat up and stretched. Oscar was confused, as if not remembering where they were. He rubbed his face.
“I haven’t slept that good…” he said. “Like ever.”
“I know.” Mom sat there, satisfied. “Is the heat working?”
The fire was dead, but the room was warm. It wasn’t just Tin who felt it. Mom put on two pair of socks and started across the room. She stooped over to pick something up.
“Watch out.” She tossed Soldier to Tin. “Toys on the floor.”
Soldier was standing guard again. Maybe that was what he did. He was a soldier, after all. Tin held him in one hand. Unlike the others, he was rigid. The nutcracker mouth was open, the eyes wide. He had been standing in front of Pando.
Maybe both of them were standing guard.
“Corey.” Oscar tickled the lumpy sleeping bag. “Get the fire going.”
“But the heat is on,” he moaned.
Oscar went to the kitchen. Tin was still snuggled with Pip and the toys. They squirmed beneath the sleeping bag.
“Hot water!” Mom called from down the hall. “We’ve got hot water!”
Oscar cheered from the kitchen. Corey groaned. Pando fell forward. He climbed onto all fours before standing on his hind legs. He stretched and moved a bit more fluidly than the day before. He turned his head.
Did you sleep well?
Tin jerked back. The sound startled her. It was loud and echoey between her ears. She didn’t expect it. Most of all, she recognized it. It was the voice singing in her dream.
“Was that…” She pointed at Pando. “Was that you?”
“What?” Corey popped his head out. “Ahhh!”
He scrambled to the far end of the couch when Pando turned his head. The black and white face twisted into a bright smile. Clyde clung to Corey’s side with his little brown nose buried against his shoulder.
“I forgot where we were.” Corey was breathing hard.
Is he all right?
“I think so,” Tin said. “But not really.”
“What?” Corey said.
“You can’t hear him?” She pointed again.
“You can?”
She didn’t answer. It was obvious by his confusion and hyperventilation. He was hugging Clyde like a lifesaver in a sinking boat.
Only you can hear me. You’re special. Pando picked up the crumpled comforter and sat on Mom’s couch. On behalf of all the toys, I want to thank you.
He spread his arms and broke out a grin that raised his snout.
“I’m not special.”
Of course you are. You’re the hat wearer. There can be only one.
“But isn’t… isn’t this for the toymaker?”
You’re the wearer. And there can be only one wearer. The hat chose you.
She shook her head, but surreal confusion remained. She was having a conversation with a stuffed panda bear that sounded imaginary but was anything but. Piggy climbed deeper in the sleeping bag.
“How are you alive?” she said.
“Wait, are you…” Corey looked between them. “Are you talking to him?”
She held up her hand. He was impossible, hugging his bear and now freaked out that she was hearing one of them talk.
It’s not magic. Pando sat back and crossed his arms.
“If it’s not magic, what is it?”
Pando’s arm didn’t quite reach the top of his head. Ask the hat.
“Is he talking about me?” Corey said.
Tin had slept in her cargo pants. The toymaker’s hat was tucked into the side pocket. She held the little bell as she pulled it out. All of this started after the first time she put it on. Not just visions, but the house changed.
And the toys woke up, she thought.
“The other toys.” She pointed to the top of the upside-down staircase. “What happened to them?”
Greed.
“Wallace?”
“What about him?” Corey said. “Did he—”
“Shhh.” Tin held up her hand. She needed to concentrate. Pando’s voice sort of came and went, fading if she wasn’t listening closely. It was strange, like a frequency. How is he doing that?
“Wallace locked them in the room?” she asked. “Why did he leave?”
The answers are there. He nodded at the hat. Just ask.
“You want me to put on the hat? Like Wallace?”
You’re not like him, dear.
Maybe Wallace didn’t start out that way. The hat did appear to save his life. But then he used it, she thought. Is that where things went wrong?
“Is Santa real?”
What do you think?
She nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I asked my mom about Santa when I was ten, and that’s what she said. But I’m not ten. The toys said Santa couldn’t see Toyland. I’ve been outside the wall and this place disappeared. So far they’re right, you can’t see Toyland from out there. That means Santa can’t see it, either. That is, if he’s real.”
Pando smiled. He understood. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make it any more or less true. The toys were alive. That was true.
“How do we turn it off?” she said.
If we knew, do you think we’d still be here?
“The steps are gone. Who tried to set the tower on fire?”
We’re trapped, dear. But you can help us. You have the answers in your hand. Only one person can be the wearer.
Pando’s expression solidified. His stubby arms relaxed across the back of the couch and stiffened. Moments later, Oscar came into the lobby, tying his apron behind his back.
“Corey, let’s go,” he said. “Firewood.”
Corey dragged his feet onto the floor. His dad stared until he was up and moving, then went back to the kitchen, not before watching his son carry a teddy bear over to Tin and tuck it under the sleeping bag. The entire crew snuggled against her, warm and soft.
“Seriously”—he bent over—“what’d he say about Santa?”
“What’d you think?”
“Don’t give me…” He looked over his shoulder. “Is he alive, yes or no?”
The evidence is sitting across from us, she thought.
“Tell him to tell Santa I want a new laptop.”
Corey didn’t bother tying his boots or zipping his coat. He went out the front door. The morning was bright and still. The snow was piled high on the porch. The storm had passed.
“A Christmas miracle.” Mom had a towel wrapped around her head. “Plenty of hot water, Tin.”
“Maybe later.”
Mom pulled the sleeping bag from Pip’s head. A moan escaped the pile. Monkeybrain was wedged against her cheek.
“Piper?” Mom sang. “Time to get up. Come on, hon, let’s get a shower. You haven’t had one in days. Santa only delivers to clean little girls.”
Silly, what adults came up with. Santa only gave presents to little kids who showered regularly. Sort of explained why things were so confusing for teenagers.
“You and Pando having a conversation?” Mom said.
Tin went cold. Mom hiked Pip into her arms and smiled. It was the way Pando was seated on the couch, like they were talking. Mom tickled Pip into angry laughter. Monkeybrain stared on the way out.
“Why do you do that?” she whispered. When the big panda didn’t answer, she added, “You come to life in front of us, why not Mom?”
He was stiff and silent.
Oscar was out
side with Corey on the front porch, talking about shoveling around the car. These were the moments she wondered if she was imagining the whole thing. Were those just her own thoughts she was hearing? Was the fire tower projecting a wall that kept Toyland invisible? Were the toys really alive?
There’s one way to make sure, she thought.
She dug Piggy out. She shivered in her hands and cowered. She was cold or scared or both. She hadn’t done much of anything except hug her since yesterday.
“I need you to do something for me,” she said. “I’m going to put this hat on, okay? I’m not really sure what will happen, but I need you to take it off as soon as I put it on. No one else is here. Can you do that?”
Piggy nodded quickly. Her beady black eyes glinted with morning light. Tin hugged her one more time then set her on her chest.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’m going to get you out of here.”
Piggy rubbed her snout against her nose. She swore she snorted. Oscar’s voice grew louder on the front porch. Tin quickly grabbed the hat—
The little bell rang.
The hat flopped on Wallace’s head. Brown locks curled around the white hem. Icy blue eyes shaded by bushy eyebrows. He was hunched at his desk, muttering and shaking his head. The little bell rang each time he did.
He was in the loft. The desk overlooked a wide-open field, an unobscured view of the tower. The glass was clean. It looked brand new. No condensation streaking the inside, no algae griming the outside. The air around the tower wasn’t warped.
It wasn’t turned on.
He was feverishly working on something. Papers were under Tin’s foot. The floor was covered with sketches and plans, paper ripped in half, parchment wrinkled into loose balls. The desk was cluttered with more of the same—stacks of full-size plans. None had been rolled and stored in the sleeve cabinet.
He was still working on them.
Tin could see her breath. It was chilly in the loft. But Wallace was wearing a white T-shirt, suspenders hung at his sides. There was very little gray in his beard. It was humorous, a grown man at a serious desk with a silly elven hat.
Toyland- the Legacy of Wallace Noel Page 12
