Puppet

by Pauline C. Harris

  “Why did you agree to Dad’s experiments?” James asks quietly, not in any accusatory way, but just in curiosity.

  My throat suddenly closes up and I look away. “I didn’t like the orphanage,” I answer. “And...” I trail off. “I’m an orphan, James. Being adopted is...something I’ve always wanted,” I say, ignoring the part about stealing, even though it blares through my mind like a neon sign.

  He nods slowly, as if regretting bringing the subject up. But he continues. “I know. But this experiment of Jed’s...it’s more than just...” He shakes his head. “You could have presumably been throwing your whole life away...but you agreed.”

  I take in a shuddering breath, forcing a smile on my face. “I was just tired of the orphanage and ready to leave.” By the look on James’s face I can tell he isn’t buying it, but I keep talking before he can say a word. “You both seemed nice and...”

  “Pen,” James interrupts me. “You only had two years left. Two years.” His look is pointed and for some reason I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. “I...” my voice trails off, realizing I have no more truths to hedge around with, anything else I utter would be a lie.

  “I really was...” nothing. I groan. “You wouldn’t want to know,” I say instead, turning away from him and pretending to busy myself with reading the labels on the boxes around us.

  “Why would you think that?” James almost sounds hurt. “You think I would view you differently or something?”

  “Yes,” I state simply.

  “But why...”

  “Because you’re practically perfect, James,” I snap, shocked as the words sound harsher than I had ever intended them to. His expression falters, but only momentarily. “You’ve never done anything wrong or bad, you...” I stop, realizing how whiny I sound. I stare down at my lap, not sure what to say. The silence is nearly deafening, although the noise from the train cars continues around us.

  “It wouldn’t have been two years,” I say after awhile. “It would have been seven.” James’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but before he has a chance to ask why, I continue. “I wasn’t exactly honest and...I stole some things. A lot of things, actually.” James is silent and I’m not sure whether it’s a respectful one or if he’s disappointed. “And it wasn’t just once...it was all the time.” I don’t risk glancing up from my lap to James’s eyes. “What it boils down to is if I wasn’t adopted the orphanage was going to make me stay on for five years after I turned eighteen to pay for the damages...financial ones and reputation-wise as well. And before you say anything, I know I should’ve dealt with it and been mature but I needed to start over – I needed someplace where know one knew me as...that girl. And Jed was that chance.”

  After a long pause I venture to look up and meet James’s gaze, surprised to see a tiny smile in his eyes.

  “You’re laughing at me,” I state, not sure whether to be relieved or angry.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not laughing at you; I’m just surprised you’d think I would change my mind about you.” His smile moves from his eyes to cover his whole face. “Pen, your past is your past,” he says. “And I’m not here to lecture you about it...but I’m glad you told me.”

  I nod, surprised at how relieved I am.

  “You know,” James adds. “I don’t think Dad would mind either,” he tells me. “Sure he was mad about the whole incident but that’s only because he cares. I mean really, his science and I – and you – are his whole life.”

  I look up. “Me?” I ask hollowly, my heart beginning to beat a little faster.

  James must read the confusion in my eyes because he laughs. “Yes. Don’t you know how much he loves you?”

  My heart nearly drops and my face must show my confusion like paint on a canvas because James’s begins to mirror it. I wonder briefly if that’s a side effect of Jed’s anti-lie procedure; that I can’t lie with my expressions either. “I thought I was just his experiment...” I say, wondering if James’s words are really true. Does Jed really care for me? Love me?

  “At first you were,” he replies. “But Pen, you’re like his daughter now. Don’t you feel like it?” Daughter... My mind seems to stop.

  I shrug and open my mouth to say that I don’t, that I’ve always been just his marionette, his experiment; that it was all a deal, but the words fizzle and burn in my throat, bringing my hand to my neck in shock. James watches me closely. “I guess I do,” I reply quietly.

  We sit in silence for a few moments, each of us lost in thought, the train rattling around us.

  “I’m glad you came,” I say after a few minutes.

  James grins at me. “And I’m glad you let me.”

  I laugh. “You would’ve come anyway.”

  He shrugs and nods guiltily and just then it occurs to me how much I like having him around. How much his company means to me; his smile, his voice. How much I would have missed him if I had insisted on going alone. I play aimlessly with the frayed pieces of my sweater, thinking about Jed and James, the circumstances I’ve encountered, my former life and my present life. And what the future one holds.

  15

  I wake up on cold, hard flooring, the air around me stiff and chilly. The smell of metal and rust enters my nose and for some reason, the area around me sounds still and silent. I blink a few times, trying to figure out where I am and with a jolt I remember I’m on the train.

  “Pen?”

  I look up to see that it’s James who woke me up, his hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake.

  “The train’s stopped,” he whispers and I sit up quickly. Blood rushes from my head as James pulls me to my feet and we look around. James walks over to press his ear against the metal door and I follow him, blinking and trying to fully wake myself up. Suddenly I hear voices and my heart rate quickens. Far away voices, but urgent.

  I hurry back to our bags, shoving the sweaters we had used as pillows back inside and zipping everything up. I look around the train car. There’s only one door and the voices are getting louder. I look up; the hatch is our only way out. James is fiddling with the latch on the door, silently trying to jam it.

  I hear the voices grow disturbingly noisy and James hurries over to grab his backpack. Suddenly, the door squeals as metal grinds on metal and the people on the other side try to drag it open.

  James pushes me toward the ladder and I climb as fast as I can, opening the hatch just in time to see an administrator poke his head through the door. He shouts and pulls it open the rest of the way with a groan while James and I slip out onto the roof. I slam the hatch shut and look out across the endless line of train cars. My heart hammers in my chest as I hear someone fiddling with the hatch at our feet.

  That’s when I notice the administrators on the ground below us. Suddenly I feel something large and strong grab my ankle and with a yelp of surprise, I’m yanked to my hands and knees, my leg searing as it hits the metal roof. I cling to the rungs on the top of the cart while the administrator below me pulls with all his might. James scrambles over, grabbing my hands as I begin to slip down the side and with a shout of frustration, I kick backwards, feeling the pressure on my ankle instantly release. James helps me clamber to my feet just as the hatch is flown open, and then we turn and run.

  The rungs on top of the train make stepping harder than normal; I almost trip in my haste to get away from the administrator behind us. The end of the car comes up ahead and without hesitation, I jump, spanning the five foot gap between cars in a matter of seconds. James is at my side in an instant and we continue on, sprinting over the uneven rooftop. I can hear the sound of the administrator trying to catch up behind us, and I see more on the ground beside us, running along. Panic courses through me and I wonder how many people they have, if they have guns; if they’ll use them. I hear a car far off and I silently pray that we’ll get away alive.

  I think of Jed’s face when he’ll find out we’ve been captured. James being held because of his association with me. I think
of a cold cell, a cold bed; colder and darker than the orphanage, and adrenaline pumps through my veins as I run faster.

  Just then I see a small dot up ahead and my breathing catches in my throat and then quickens. The dot jumps along the rooftops of the cars like James and I and as it slowly approaches, I notice the black attire of an administrator. I turn around, surveying the mass of administrators behind us and then the ones ahead. I turn to James who’s trying hard to mask his fear; but his eyes can’t hide it. Just then he points to the other side of the train; away from the road and the administrators, leading into the forest. I had hesitated about going there earlier, afraid it would be swarming with more people out to get us, but I welcome it as our only chance and scramble after James as he climbs precariously down the side of the train.

  I feel my feet hit the mossy ground only seconds later and we’re running again. I can hear the administrators yelling at each other but their cries become softer as we create as much distance between us as possible.

  The forest is silent yet loud as we race through it, as if creating a frozen world until we pass by. The pounding of my feet against the soggy ground echoes throughout my body, in time with my heartbeat as it thrums in my ears. I can hear James beside me, breathing hard as we sprint through the trees, but he almost feels like a part of me as the wind rushes against my skin at a dizzying pace, distorting my senses into hectic clarity.

  Just then, James comes to a stop and I slow beside him. He turns to look behind us, but as I strain my ears, I hear nothing.

  “Do you think they came after us?” he pants.

  I shrug my shoulders as I try to catch my breath. “I don’t know. But they’ll try.”

  James nods and we begin to hurry on again, jogging this time as we try to slow our racing hearts and bring our breathing back to normal.

  “Do you know where we are?” I ask James after a few minutes.

  He shrugs. “We rode the train all night; we’re miles from home. But I don’t know what direction.”

  The swampy forest around us reminds me of the woods behind Jed’s house and I can’t help but feel we haven’t traveled too many miles. A few towns over, maybe?

  James and I run and walk for the next hour or so, talking on and off, but mostly trying to save all our energy for getting as far away from the train as possible. We pull out more food from James’s backpack and eat as we trudge through the underbrush.

  James and I are talking about Jed and his new ‘cat’ experiment; poor Clemetice and all the cat is about to undergo when suddenly, music hits my ears. James and I turn to look at each other as the music vibrates and carries on at a quick pace; a weirdly joyful tune. I turn in the direction it’s coming from and as I squint against the multitude of trees, I see a small light in the distance, and then more; flashing wildly.

  James and I continue ahead, more cautious as the music gets louder and more severe and the lights flash brighter and quicker. But as we go on through the trees, the lights and music slowly begin to make sense as a small carnival begins to appear.

  We carefully walk up to the edge of the forest and step out into the busy whirlwind of people and vendors shouting back and forth, the music playing loudly all the time. It seems so odd to come across a scene like this and James and I just stand there in surprise for a few moments before a vendor asks us if we’d like to buy his candied apples. James politely refuses and the vendor gives us an irritated look as we walk away.

  A ferris wheel shines in front of us, its lights spinning with the carts as the wheel turns methodically. We walk past it over the trodden grass beneath us and suddenly something catches my eye. A small, sealed up tent stands about twenty feet away, an image painted on the flaps and a large sign out in front. I hurry toward it, James at my heels and we stop in front of the large billboard painted with the faces of robot puppets, the word marionettes scrawled elegantly across the top. I stare down at it for a moment, James watching me, before I turn and hesitate only slightly before opening the curtain flaps and stepping inside.

  The interior of the tent is dark and slightly surprises me as I walk in. A small stage is set up at the back of the area and chairs are positioned throughout the rest. James steps up behind me and we both sit down in the back row. Only a few people are sprinkled throughout the seats.

  I look up to see the puppeteer off to the side, his small remote control box in hand as a large male puppet twirls onstage, zipping back and forth and juggling lemons between its fingertips. Its painted face stares out at the audience; its features so lifelike and human, yet cold and soulless. I had always avoided the robot marionettes; their fake humanity had always frightened me, but now I sit up in my seat as I strain to get a better view of it. What I am now was derived from things like that puppet onstage. In many ways, we’re alike; the same. Controlled by others in a world where all you want is to be free.

  I sit, captivated, as marionette after marionette comes onstage and performs trick after trick. I imagine this is how Jed would act if he were here; perched on the edge of his seat, his eyes lighting up. I wonder how many times he sat and watched performances like these, enamored with every move, until he decided to create one of his own.

  Just then, a female marionette spins onstage, her bright orange hair and vibrant blue and gold outfit shining and clashing in a charmingly odd way. Her makeup is painted to look like an old wooden marionette, sharp angles drawn on her face and round red circles for cheeks. She dances around and methodically her moves become faster until she’s sprinting across the stage, twirling and leaping, often times too quickly for our eyes to catch.

  Suddenly, the puppet stops and turns toward the audience. “A volunteer?” the puppeteer calls as the puppet slowly begins to walk down the center aisle. I see no raised hands among the small crowd and as the marionette turns as if looking out at all of us, I can’t help but feel slightly unsettled. Just then I notice the marionette at the end of the aisle and suddenly it’s turning toward me. I scoot inwards toward James, but the puppet is already standing next to my seat. I stare up at its lifeless eyes and feel a shiver run through me as it gently takes my hand and brings me to my feet.

  “Thank you!” the puppeteer shouts across the crowd and I look nervously over at James. He looks lost for words but gives me an encouraging expression.

  The puppet leads me up the aisle and everything about it disturbs me; its face, its lifelike gait, the way its chest moves up and down when I know there are no real lungs underneath the plastic and metal. The marionette’s orange hair shines underneath the harsh lights, making the plastic hairs of the wig sparkle. It leads me up the stairs to the stage and then lets go of my hand; I pull mine away, suppressing a shudder.

  “Shall we test this marionette’s strength?” the man cries out and few audience members look intrigued, although no one responds. “If you please?” the puppeteer says to me, gesturing to the small table on the stage, two chairs on opposite sides. “Both lovely ladies, same size, same height. Shall we see who wins an arm wrestle?”

  I stare at him in disbelief, looking from him to the lifeless doll and back.

  “She won’t hurt you,” he states, reading my fear.

  I stare down at the audience for a moment, seeing James in the back row watching me. I swallow and sit down. The puppet sits down across from me, our heads at the same level, her dead eyes staring straight into mine.

  “Ready?” the puppeteer asks, and the marionette puts its elbow on the table. I hesitate for a moment before bringing my arm up as well and placing my hand in the puppet’s. The cold plastic sticks to my sweaty palms and I want to pull away but the marionette wraps its fingers tightly around mine.

  “Set,” the man says. I feel as if my hand is clasped in some metal machine, not a person with a beating heart, working lungs and a living mind.

  “Go.”

  I feel the pressure against my palm and sit in anxiety and surprise as the force becomes harder and my hand stays the same. I frown across at the mar
ionette and then push slightly, watching as its hand wavers backward. I had never thought to test my strength against a robot marionette’s; I had always thought of them as powerful and strong, never something you could outrun or out-force. But now, as I sit there, I feel the puppet’s arm like a child’s, flimsy and breakable.

  But just then, out of the corner of my eye I see the puppeteer, his eyes widened in confused shock, his eyebrows narrowed as he watches his superhuman marionette fail to arm wrestle a skinny, teenage girl. And then my senses come back and I immediately loosen my grip, feeling the puppet shove my arm to the table. I hear the puppeteer sigh in relief and then announce something to the audience, his voice animated and slightly relieved. I yank my arm from the marionette’s grasp and stand up, the chair almost toppling over as I do so. The man ends the show and thanks everyone for coming as I hurry down the steps and back to James.

  James says nothing, only watches me as I grab my bag, people filing out behind us. We turn to go and I rush toward the exit when I hear the puppeteer’s voice across the empty tent.

  “Wait,” he calls, striding towards us.

  “Pen, we should go,” James’s low voice sounds quietly in my ear. I turn again, but the man’s voice stops me.

  “I know who you are.”

  I swivel around to glare suspiciously at him, while I notice James tense beside me. “And who am I?” I snap.

  “That girl, that marionette girl,” he says. “The living marionette.”

  I shake my head, about to open my mouth and refute his claim, but the itching and burning return to my throat with a sudden intensity.

  “You’ve got the wrong girl,” James steps in for me, holding my elbow and turning me toward the exit.

  “You are her.” The man’s voice is harder this time; more certain. “A full grown man can’t hold off my marionette for more than half a second, and you,” he goes on. “You were about to beat her.”