A scary imitation of Dr. Frankenstein, Derek thought. But while Dr. Frankenstein was one of Derek’s favorite book characters, he didn’t like this doll maker at all. The man’s voice sounded smooth as velvet, but spiced with venom. Like how Derek’s mom sounded when she called him upstairs after finding out he hadn’t cleaned his room—the kind of friendliness that hides anger, or secrets.
Jamie was the first to recover, taking a step forward. “Hey, we’re just taking a look.”
Martin shot a worried glance at Derek. The pink vanished from his cheeks, and his eyes went wide.
“Ah.” The word lingered in the air, filling the entire room. The shopkeeper looked from Jamie to Martin to Derek. “I remember you.” He nodded his chin toward Derek. “You walked past the shop yesterday.”
“Um, yes.” Derek could barely hide his surprise at the shopkeeper’s excellent memory skills.
“Your sister and mother bought a doll here,” the man continued. “Have they had any... complaints?” He drew out the last word, almost as if he was surprised the word crossed his lips, like no one could ever complain about one of his dolls.
“No.” Derek shook his head. “No, no.”
“Ah, good to hear. Your sister bought a very special doll.” He almost smirked, but his expression jumped back to neutral.
“What do you mean ‘special’?” Jamie narrowed his eyes.
The doll maker turned his head at once to face Jamie. The latter took a step back, almost like he was forced to by the intense gaze in the doll maker’s black eyes. The man grunted. “The doll’s name is Tim. He’s looking for a friend.” He said it as though a doll looking for a friend was the most natural thing in the world.
Derek’s heart hammered in his chest. So that’s where my sister came up with the silly notion her doll has a name.
“Right,” Jamie said, with the kind of tone that meant it wasn’t right at all. “Well, we should get going.” He pulled Derek’s arm, his fingers digging into the skin.
The walls of the shop closed in on Derek as hunger flared in the dolls’ fake eyes.
“I see,” the shopkeeper said. His mouth leveled back into a grim line, as if he had no lips at all. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy anything?” He turned to Martin while asking the question, in the same abrupt way as he’d moved earlier.
Martin rushed a few steps back. “Um... maybe.”
“No,” Jamie replied, staring at his friend as if he had gone crazy. He yanked Martin’s arm this time. “Come on, let’s go, or we’ll be late.”
But Martin didn’t move. His gaze was glued to the glass closet. “That one,” he said, pointing at one of the dolls.
“What are you doing?” Jamie asked. “You don’t want a doll!” He pulled Martin’s arm again, harder this time.
“I do,” Martin said. His voice had turned glassy, as though he was rehearsing a school play. “Can’t you see how beautiful they are? Just perfect. They look so real.”
Panicking, Derek rushed to Martin and began pushing him, trying to get him out of the shop before he bought one of those dolls. But even though Jamie pulled Martin’s arm and Derek pushed him forward, the boy wouldn’t budge.
“You mean Nick.” The doll maker’s lips curled into a thin smile, which didn’t look right on him at all. He strode toward the glass closet, opened the door, and lifted up one of the dolls to show it to Martin.
Martin nodded. “Yes, that’s the one.” His eyes didn’t leave the doll, not even when the doll maker took it back toward the counter.
Not a great time to turn into a zombie, Derek decided.
“I thought you’d get along well with Nick,” the doll maker said. “Nick is looking for a friend.”
This conjured a smile from Martin. “I’ll be his friend.”
“No,” Derek said. He jumped in front of Martin, putting both hands on his friend’s shoulders. “You’re not buying that doll. Before we came in, you didn’t even want a doll.”
Martin blinked a few times, as if waking up from a nightmare. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
Jamie pulled Martin’s arm one last time. “Come on, we’re leaving.” He roughly pushed him out of the shop.
Derek rushed after them. When he reached the door, he risked turning around. The shopkeeper still stood behind the counter, peering at him. Their eyes met and Derek’s stomach turned upside down. The shop owner’s eyes were just like the dolls’—lifelike but vacant, not really alive.
Without a second thought, Derek raced out of the shop and threw the door shut behind him.
“What the heck was that?” Jamie asked, looking as spooked as Derek felt. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine... I think,” Martin said. “I can’t remember what happened.”
“It’s like you were brainwashed,” Jamie said. “Suddenly you wanted to buy one of those dolls, and then that guy went on about how the doll was called Nick and you’d be friends and....”
Martin wrapped his arms around himself. “I want to go home.”
Derek looked at Jamie, expecting a remark like ‘grow up’ or ‘stop being such a chicken’, but Jamie didn’t say a word. “We’ll take you home,” he promised. “I don’t want to stay here a minute longer anyway.”
Martin shivered visibly. “I feel so cold.”
“It will be better once you get home.” Jamie’s voice trembled, and he looked down while he spoke. He put a hand on Martin’s back as they walked to their bikes.
They unlocked their bikes and climbed on. Derek was scared enough to race home, but Martin looked a little green. He grabbed his bike with both hands, his knuckles turning white, and then rode at the speed of a snail.
By the time they reached Martin’s house, dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his skin had turned corpse-pale.
Derek jumped off his bike and rang the bell.
Martin’s mom opened the door seconds later, and her face fell as soon as she saw Martin. “What happened?”
“He....” Derek started, looking at Jamie for help, but Jamie shook his head. “He doesn’t feel well.” He decided to leave out the shop and its scary owner and what he did to Martin.
“Come on in, sweetie,” she said, stepping aside so her son could pass through. “Thanks for bringing him home, guys.”
“No problem.” Derek sighed with relief when Martin’s mom closed the door. He hated lying to people, especially adults.
He turned to Jamie. “Now what? We can’t act like nothing happened. That guy brainwashed Martin. We both saw it.”
“Was it really brainwashing though?” Jamie put a finger to his cheek and lips, something he always did when deep in thought. “It could be something else.”
“Like what?”
“A spell.”
“There’s no such thing as spells. Come on, this is serious!”
“I am being serious. You’re right that there’s something wrong about those dolls. I don’t think it’s as simple as brainwashing.”
Derek wanted to punch Jamie for acting like this. “Spells aren’t real.”
“I didn’t think they were real either, until I saw what happened to Martin.”
“The shopkeeper isn’t a wizard or something. He knows some tricks and he uses those to brainwash kids. We should tell our parents so they can do something about it.”
“But what if he’s a wizard? We’d put our parents in danger.”
“We’re putting Martin in danger by hiding this.” Derek clenched his fists and his jaw in unison. “I’m going home.”
“All right.” Jamie paused. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Whatever.” Derek yanked his bike straight and climbed on without another word. He sprinted away from Jamie, not bothering to look back.
There was something wrong with those dolls, and with the shopkeeper. The creepy man obviously wanted Martin to buy a doll, but why? Just so he could sell something?
A plan formed in his mind as he raced home. I’ll tell Mo
m about it, and she’ll fix it.
Chapter 4
The house was quiet by the time Derek got there. A note on the kitchen table told him why: his mom had gone grocery shopping, and Dad and Annie had left for Annie’s weekly swimming class. Usually that meant he could read a comic book without being bothered, but now the news made him drop the note and pound his fist on the table.
The doll.
Derek tiptoed up the stairs. Even though no one was home and he could make as much noise as he wanted, he crept up as though fearful of awakening ghosts. The air hung heavy, charged, as if someone else was in the house with him. It was absurd, but he couldn’t shake the thought.
When he reached the upper floor, the door to Annie’s room stood wide open, almost inviting him in. His sister would be furious if she found out he was snooping in her room, but drastic times called for drastic measures.
He pushed past the open door and entered the pink paradise. The bright colors irritated his eyes as he scanned the room for any sign of the doll. A bump under the bed covers drew his attention almost right away.
Derek’s breath stuck in his throat. Could that be the doll?
He crept toward the bed. His hand trembled when he reached for the blanket.
For Martin, he told himself. Be brave.
Then he pulled away the blanket, revealing the doll. It stared straight at Derek, its plastic smile distorted because its head was slightly turned. One of the doll’s hands was raised up, as though it was reaching to grab him.
But the creepy toy didn’t stir, so it must be just a doll after all.
Derek’s instinct told him to run away, but against his better judgment, he extended a hand toward the doll. His stomach flipped again at the thought of touching the tiny plastic hand, worried it might grab his and refuse to let go. Instead, he touched the doll’s forehead, and then its cheeks.
Plastic, of course.
He moved his hand over the doll’s mouth, and a soft gasp of wind brushed over his fingers.
He yanked his hand away and threw the blanket back over the doll, then hurried out of the room and sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time. This time he didn’t care how much noise he made.
The doll had breathed.
Chapter 5
Derek ambushed his mother the moment she stepped out of the car.
“Derek,” Mom said, “there’s no such thing as brainwashing.” She slumped her shoulders trying to lift up the heavy grocery bags. “Here.” She pushed one of the bags into his arms.
She had arrived fifteen minutes after his frantic phone call that the doll was alive. He considered fifteen minutes a long time, considering he, her only son, was the victim of an attack by a supernatural doll. He’d spent those fifteen minutes pacing up and down the driveway, glancing at his sister’s window every minute or so.
Mom grabbed two bags of groceries and walked past him, straight into the house. She didn’t even pause in the hallway, just went through to the kitchen.
“The doll breathed!” Derek rushed after her, carrying another bag in his hands. “I held my hand over its mouth and it breathed. I swear.”
“Just like you swear the shopkeeper tried to brainwash Martin?” Mom rolled her eyes, dropped the bags on the kitchen table and turned to him. “You have to stop making up these crazy stories. I know you’re not happy Annie got the doll. I understand. You feel like Annie gets everything and you get nothing, but that’s not true.”
“It’s not about that! Mom, I swear it’s the truth. Please believe me. Martin looked terrible afterward and—”
“He just has a cold. Lots of kids are down with a cold right now.” She shook her head and started putting the groceries in the fridge and cabinets. “And why do you think Mr. Weird tried to brainwash Martin?”
“Mr. Weird? That’s his name? No wonder he acts like a total freak.”
“Derek, I will not have you call people names like that. Got it?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Well, our town is called Weirdville because it was founded by the Weird family in the eighteenth century. Some descendants of the Weirds are still alive today. You know a few of them, like the mayor’s wife.”
He’d seen the mayor’s wife once, from afar, but he didn’t really like her. She had a cold, distant look on her face, as if she were better than the rest of them. “And this shopkeeper is one of them?”
“A distant relative. He told me himself, yesterday.”
“Then why did he come here?”
“He traveled all across the world, but he wanted to settle here because this is where his family comes from. Now stop being so curious. Isn’t it possible Martin wanted to buy the doll but was too scared to admit it because he thought you two would laugh at him?” She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him.
“No.” Derek shook his head. “He didn’t want anything to do with those dolls, and when I blocked his view of the shopkeeper, he had no idea where he was at.”
“Maybe he’s ill, then. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything. Except for why you were putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. What were you doing in the shop, anyway?”
He shrugged and leaned against the kitchen table. He didn’t want to tell her about how he’d started talking about the dolls in the first place. “Jamie wanted to see those dolls. He hadn’t seen the shop before. That’s weird too, isn’t it? Do you know how long the shop has been open?”
“I don’t know. About a month, I guess.”
“But Jamie passes there nearly every day, and he’s never seen it until I showed it to him.”
“Well, it’s a small shop.”
“Or maybe the shop is only visible to some people.”
“Derek.” Mom’s voice sounded strained and tired. “Stop making nonsense. It’s just a regular shop. Dolls don’t breathe. You’re reading too many comic books.”
He threw his hands up. “I’m not making this up! Why don’t you believe me?”
“Fine, if you want to keep playing this game, then give me proof. Prove to me that doll is alive.”
“I will. Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Mom sighed and dropped her hands in surrender. “All right.”
Derek walked up the stairs first, leading Mom into Annie’s room. The doll still caused a bump underneath the blanket. This time around, with Mom on his heels, the entire ordeal felt like a quest from one of his comic books. He was the superhero, and Mom his sidekick. Except that he kind of wanted her to fix everything, as soon as he’d proven to her the doll was real.
He eased over to the bed and lifted the blanket, and waited while Mom approached the doll.
She put her hand over the doll’s mouth and waited. Then she took a deep breath and set her jaw. “See, Derek? I don’t feel anything. It was just your imagination.”
“It’s not my imagination. The doll was breathing.”
“If it did, then why doesn’t it breathe now? Honey, don’t get so spooked about nothing.” She smiled at him—a smile filled with sadness. “I’ll go make dinner.” She ruffled through his hair and left the room, leaving Derek alone.
Well, not alone.
He took another long look at the doll. The doll’s chest didn’t go up and down, as it would if the doll had been breathing.
It could’ve been the wind. All windows in Annie’s room were closed, but in these old houses wind always crept in.
After a minute or two, he gave up, put the blanket back over the doll, and walked away.
He hadn’t even reached the door when something moved in his peripheral vision. He spun around on the heel of his shoe, just in time to see the blanket move.
The doll sat up straight under the blanket, its head turned toward Derek.
“Argh!” He ran out of the room as if the devil was on his heels.
He sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time, and bolted into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, all color draining from her skin when she sa
w him rush in.
Derek didn’t reply. Instead, he buried his face against her, hugging her tighter than he’d done in years.
Chapter 6
By the time Mom called for dinner, Derek had somewhat recovered. Alive or not, it was still just a doll, barely the size of a toddler—nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d dug up his baseball bat and placed it next to his bed. If that doll managed to get into his room tonight, it wouldn’t get out alive.
Annie and Dad had just come home from Annie’s swimming class, her hair curled from being wet.
Derek laughed when she walked into the kitchen. “Curlyhead.”
Annie stuck her tongue out at him, and turned to Mom. “I’m going to say hey to Tim first. He’s been sleeping all day.”
“All right. I’m glad you like your present.” Mom shot a warning look at Derek.
Annie disappeared through the door, and seconds later Derek heard her bounce up the stairs.
“How are you, champ?” Dad asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“I’m fine,” Derek lied. He shot a meaningful look at Mom, who didn’t react.
“Good, good.” Dad grabbed the newspaper and started reading. Because he had to get up too early in the morning—he was a mailman—he read the newspaper when he came home from work. “Well, looks like they’ll be redoing Magnolia Street.” He had a habit of summarizing the news out loud. “About time. You can barely pass through on one side.”
Derek could care less about Magnolia Street. He took a sip of his orange juice and thought about Martin instead, wondering if he would be okay. Hopefully, he felt better already.
“Oh my,” Dad said. “A little boy went missing.”
“Another one?” Mom rushed toward Dad and stood behind him to look at the newspaper as well. “Nicholas Frey. I know his parents. He’s three years old, I think.” She shook her head and grabbed her husband’s hand. “Who would want to kidnap kids that age?”
“A madman,” Dad concluded. “This is the seventh kidnapped child. We shouldn’t leave Annie out of our sight. Most of the children are around her age.”
Weirdville: The Doll Maker (Lower Grade Spooky Fun Adventure) Page 2
