by Foxglove Lee
With Yvette around, there was no telling who might wake up dead.
“How did she get out of the rug?” Tiffany whispered.
“And the tin can.”
“Mr. Genova!” Tiffany called to the old man. The twins hid their faces in the small of her back as she approached Dory’s table. “When you hooked that doll on your line, was she wrapped in anything?”
“What’s that?” the old man asked, cupping his hand behind his ear. “Speak up, there, girlie.”
“Was that doll wrapped in anything?” Tiffany shouted.
“What are you on about?” Dory asked. She was probably my aunt’s age, and she kept shooting me dirty looks. “Is this your doll, Tiffy?”
“She belongs to Rebecca, but we think she’s gonna kill somebody.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Dory whispered to Mr. Genova—loudly enough that I could hear but the old man couldn’t.
“What’s that?” he asked. “You girls stop your mumbling.”
“I said…” Dory shot me a rueful glare, then shook her head. “Oh, never mind. Tiffy, dear, tell me what you’re after.”
“We drowned her in the lake last night,” Tiffany said frantically. “She tried to murder me, I swear. She, like, had the pillow over my face and I couldn’t move, so we strapped her to a can of beans and rolled her in my bedroom rug and threw her in the water.”
Tiffany barely breathed as she told the story, and I wasn’t sure if Dory and the old man understood.
“Well, if that’s the case, I sure as hell don’t want the thing.” Dory handed Yvette to Tiffany, still ignoring me. The candy cane twins had been poking their little heads around her sides, but as soon as the doll came at them, they ran away screaming.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Tiffany shrieked. “That doll is evil!”
“I thought you didn’t believe in evil,” I said, but nobody was paying attention to me.
“If it’s your doll, then it’s up to you to deal with the evil.” Dory shoved Yvette in a plastic bag and tied it at the top.
I expected Tiffany to argue and say it wasn’t her doll, it was my problem to deal with. Instead, she grabbed the bag from Dory and held it away from herself like a stinky bag of dog doo. When Tiffany rolled her eyes, Dory said, “Well, what do you expect me to do with it? That thing give me the heebie-jeebies, one eye missing and cracked along the cheek. If I were you, I’d smash it to smithereens.”
“Rebecca! What’s wrong? The little ones were screaming bloody murder.”
I turned to find my aunt running up the aisle behind me. “It’s a long story, Aunt Libby.”
“Evil doll, did they say?” Mr. Genova was late to the conversation, but his old wavering voice sent a shiver down my spine. “I know what you gotta do about that.”
“What?” Tiffany asked. “We’ll do anything!”
My aunt looked between us. “What’s going on, here?”
Mr. Genova pointed down the aisle. “Go ask what’s-his-name over there. He’s got a truckload of old books. Maybe there’s one that’ll solve your problem, eh?”
“Thanks,” Tiffany said flatly, trudging in that direction.
I followed her, and my aunt followed me. “Rebecca, the kids were scared out of their wits. What on earth is the matter?”
“It’s nothing.” I tried to downplay everything, even though I was so scared I could feel my heart under my tongue. “We just spazzed a little last night and tossed Yvette in the lake. She ended up on Mr. Genova’s fishing line, and the little kids freaked out because her eye was missing.”
“Rebecca!” Aunt Libby grabbed my arm, holding me back. “That doll belonged to your grandmother. Where do you get off tossing it in the lake?”
Tiffany snapped around. “Excuse me? After that crazy thing tried to kill me?” When my aunt’s mouth flapped open, goldfish style, Tiffany straightened up. “Oh my God. Rebecca didn’t tell you what happened, did she?”
“What happened when?” Deep lines of concern drew across my aunt’s face. “Spill it, girls.”
“You’re not going to believe it,” I said.
We’d landed in front of a pair of busybodies selling toilet paper dolls with gaudy crocheted gowns. They were listening intently and pretending not to, so I tugged my aunt closer to the man selling wooden puzzles. He leaned back in his chair with his hat over his head, snoring like a bison.
Tiffany told my aunt everything that had happened the night before. Well, not everything. Just the stuff about Yvette’s unexpected attack.
“That’s impossible,” my aunt said. “The doll was here when you left. Are you saying it walked itself over to your grandparents’ cottage and…”
“I don’t know!” Tiffany cried. “I don’t know how any of this happened.”
And then a weird thought occurred to me, and I asked my aunt, “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you know why bad stuff keeps happening?” I shrugged, trying to seem not at all accusatory. “I mean, it was your doll before it was mine. Were you mad that Uncle Flip gave it to me?”
Aunt Libby seemed awfully flustered. “That was years ago.”
“Only three.” I acted casual even though my heart was trembling in my chest. “Were you mad he gave it to me?”
“No!” my aunt said, with a lady-doth-protest-too-much fierceness. “Those dolls aren’t even mine, Rebecca. They belonged to your grandmother. I can’t stand all those beady little eyes staring at me every night. Gives me the creeps.”
“Then why do you keep them?” Tiffany asked.
Seemed like a simple question, but it really upset my aunt. “They belonged to my mother, Tiffany. They were hers. I can’t just throw them in the lake like some people. If I could do that, don’t you think I would?”
I didn’t really understand what my aunt meant. “Did Yvette ever do stuff before she was mine?”
“No,” my aunt snapped. “Dolls don’t have to do anything to put a fright in you. It’s the eyes, those beady little eyes—and the potential. At any moment they could…” Aunt Libby shivered. She never did finish that thought, and it made me wonder what, in her mind, they might do.
“They could smother you with a pillow,” Tiffany said. “They could paralyze you while you’re inhaling little down feathers instead of air. I know you don’t believe us, but this doll is real. She tried to kill me.”
Aunt Libby’s expression was so grave it sent chills down my spine. “I do believe you, kids. Every word.”
My aunt was on our side, and I almost wished she wasn’t. I needed my uncle to comfort me with rational thoughts, tell me Yvette wasn’t real. Yvette was only a doll.
“Where’s Uncle Flip?” I asked.
“Seeing if he can do better than a camp cot for you. Nobody seems to be selling bedroom sets this year. Everyone’s saying to ask the Joneses for their spare.”
“Guess I’ll have to stay with Tiffany all summer.” I tried not to smile too widely.
“Excuse me!” Tiffany cut in, and for a heart-breaking moment I thought she was going to say she didn’t want to share a room anymore. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have an evil doll in a plastic bag. Attempted murderer, right here! So can we see the book guy please?”
She whined loudly enough to wake the sleeping wood guy, who jumped out of his chair like he’d forgotten where he was. He looked at us like he might find the answer, but my aunt only said “Nice wood” before we took off down the aisle.
Chapter 23
The man from the used bookstore squinted through his round lenses, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. “You again!”
“You’re the book guy?” Tiffany asked—way too harshly, considering we needed his help and he already didn’t like us. “Figures.”
My aunt put her arms around Tiffany and me. “I apologize again for the misunderstanding at your shop.”
“Oh, it was no misunderstanding,” said the bald book guy. “I understand perfectly well what
happened: your girls tried to steal from me and I caught them red-handed.”
Tiffany wouldn’t back down. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? We really need your help.”
“Well, that’s a shame, because, as I recall, I banned you three from my store.”
“Ha!” Tiffany said. “This isn’t your store, it’s a swap meet, so your books are all fair game.”
“For light fingers, is it?”
My aunt gave Tiffany’s ankle a swift kick. “The girls are very sorry and they swear they won’t do it again. I’m Libby, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
He reluctantly gave her his hand. “Leonard.”
“We really are desperate for your expertise, Leonard, if you might spare a moment.”
“My expertise?” he cackled. “What, they need help with their summer school homework?”
“Is there really a school around here?” I asked, though nobody was paying attention to me.
“We’re looking for a book,” Aunt Libby said. She waited, probably for some snide comment, but the man only folded his arms. “Actually, we’re looking for information. Do you have any books on, perhaps, the occult or the metaphysical?”
Leonard’s eyebrows went up, but before he could say a word, Tiffany cried, “We’ve got an evil doll. She tried to kill me last night!”
The book man cocked his head. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“No,” I said. “It really happened. I was there. And she burned down my bedroom.”
“Who did?” Leonard pointed at Tiffany.
“No, the doll!” I told him. “She can do things on her own. Bad things! Do you have any books on how we can stop it?”
“Let me think… do I have any books about evil dolls…?”
I couldn’t tell if he was taunting us or being serious. “Do you?”
“No, I don’t have any books about evil dolls. What do you think this is? Satan’s reading room?”
One of the crochet ladies had just approached Leonard’s stall, but the enthusiasm with which he made that last comment drove her back to her own table.
“We’re desperate,” my aunt pleaded.
“So call the police, or hire a priest, or get hold of a shaman, because I can’t help you.”
My shoulders fell in time with Tiffany’s and my aunt’s. We must have looked pathetic, the three of us. I glanced down at the bag swinging next to Tiffany’s leg. The outline of Yvette’s hand through the plastic made me shudder. Aunt Libby gripped my shoulder tight and asked, “You okay, Bec?”
I didn’t mean to look at Leonard, but something compelled me. When our eyes met, he must have seen my fear, because he relented. “Fine, you three. I might have something in the back.”
Considering we weren’t at his store, I wasn’t sure what back he was talking about. Turned out he meant the back of his truck, which was lined with boxes of books. He jumped up and we followed him, crawling over paperback romances and hardcovers that must have been a hundred years old.
“Oh…” Leonard turned to look at us. “Will one of you keep an eye on my stall while I’m back here?”
My aunt looked between Tiffany and me, but we didn’t say a word. “I guess I will.”
“Try not to steal anything,” he said, and my aunt rolled her eyes. I’d never seen her do that before.
“Is that the doll there in the bag?” Leonard asked.
Tiffany handed it over. “She’s all yours if you know how to destroy her.”
Leonard sat on a box of books, but when we did the same he said, “Hey, careful,” so we stood. He meticulously untied the knot Dory had made, and took a deep breath before looking inside.
“Holy Smokes!” He cringed visibly. “This gal’s seen better days, hasn’t she?”
“We threw her in the lake,” Tiffany said. “Mr. Genova fished her up.”
“I tossed her in the septic tank before that,” I added. “After she burned all my furniture.”
“You kids better not be yanking my chain.” Leonard picked Yvette up and held her to the sun. “If I find out—”
Suddenly, Leonard started screaming the way Mikey did every time he saw a spider. Leonard leapt up, tossing Yvette across the bed of books. I didn’t mean to look there but I couldn’t help noticing… had the book man wet his pants? Now Tiffany was screaming along, and even though I had no idea what had scared them so severely, after a moment I realized I was screaming too.
My aunt came running. “Girls? What’s wrong? What—” Her gaze fixed on the crotch of Leonard’s khakis, and she bit her lip. “What’s going on back here?”
Leonard looked down and noticed the splotch. “Oh, for goodness’ sake! This is not what it looks like.”
“Why are you all screaming?”
That was an excellent question. Leonard explained, “I tilted the doll forward and a gush of water came out of her eye socket. That’s what this is.”
I shuddered at those words. There was something unspeakably scary about a doll missing an eye.
“And that fell out.” Tiffany pointed to the truck bed. In a little puddle of lake water, something slippery flopped about.
“Are you kidding me?” I picked up the poor little thing. “It’s just a baby fish. That’s what we were screaming about?”
“It nearly fell in my mouth,” Leonard said, and Tiffany shuddered.
The fish gleamed like silver against my palm. It felt good wrestling my skin. I’d have kept it in my hand all day, except the poor guy was flaring his gills in a desperate attempt to breathe. Sad how easily I could identify with a fish out of water.
“I need to throw him back,” I told my aunt, jumping down from the truck bed—which was very hard to do with one hand cupped over the other. “Keep looking for the book. I’ll be right back.”
After I’d thrown that desperate little fish back in the lake, I turned around and realized, from that particular embankment, I could just see the rich people’s cottage that I’d broken into. Maybe I should have apologized to the couple who owned it. If it was me, coming home to find some strange person wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed, I’d have flipped out. I must have really scared them.
One day I’d go back. Maybe I’d bake them cookies or something, as a peace offering. That would be a nice thing to do.
I took my time wandering back to the book man’s truck. In the pit of my stomach, there was an ever-tightening knot and I knew it related to Yvette. That damaged face kept flashing across my mind, giving me chills. The only thing scarier than a doll was a broken doll.
Once I’d gazed longingly at the baked goods tables, I tried to make myself go back. I ended up stopping at a stall selling used clothing instead. My aunt had picked me up some new underwear at the gas station, but aside from that nobody seemed to remember that I didn’t have clothes of my own. As much as I appreciated the intimacy of wearing Tiffany’s outfits, they weren’t my style. With the money Uncle Flip had slipped into my hand earlier, I bought a few men’s work shirts and a pair of pants that might fit if I wore a belt.
After that, I told myself to check in on Leonard and Tiffany, see if they’d found a book that might help, but I got distracted by the squeals of children showing off their costumes. When I got to the makeshift baseball diamond where they always held the contest, all the little kids were lined up. The judges interviewed every contestant, including my little brother, as they presented their outfits to the crowd.
“What ya got there?” my uncle asked, sidling up next to me.
I was strangely elated to see him. “Just some clothes. Did you find me a bed?”
He shook his head. “Looks like we’re plum out of luck. I saw a dresser I might go back for, if you like it, but no quality beds. I think we might have to order new from the city.”
“It’s okay. I can stay with the Joneses.” My heart pounded like it was worried he might take away from me something I held dear. “They don’t mind having me. Mrs. Jones treats me just like another
granddaughter—puts me to work in the shop and everything. I like it there.”
“We’ll see what your aunt has to say.” My uncle was looking at me, but I didn’t acknowledge his fixed gaze. “Hey, why don’t you get up there with the kids?”
“I’m too old. Isn’t it thirteen and under?”
“Just for fun.” My uncle shook my arm and it jingled with bells. “You’re never too old to have a little fun.”
I couldn’t understand why, but a surge of anger shot through me. I pulled my arm away so violently my uncle looked shocked. “Maybe I don’t want to have fun all the time, okay?”
Uncle Flip looked at me with nothing but concern. He seemed so confused, and I didn’t know how to tell him that I was confused too. I wanted to apologize but I didn’t even know why I’d snapped.
We didn’t say much else while we watched the humble pageantry of the children’s costume contest. The kids were super-cute, but their costumes were all so makeshift that they looked a little dopey. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed when they were following me around and sticking ornaments all over me.
My mind wandered to Tiffany, and my feet did too. I left my uncle’s side without a word.
“Did you find anything?” I asked when I got to the book man’s truck.
Tiffany and Leonard were seated on a pair of boxes, with a large volume spread across both their knees. They looked just like a father and daughter when they gazed up at me.
“Come see this,” Tiffany said. She wasn’t smiling.
I tossed my new old clothes on the truck bed and crawled up. The book they were looking at seemed really old, with large yellow pages and ancient illustrations.
“What is it?” I asked.
The afternoon seemed to darken even though the sun was still beating against my back.
