Free Night of the Living Dummy by R. L. Stine

!”

 
    18

    “That’s right. Close the door,” Mr. Powell said sternly, glaring with narrowed eyes at Kris.
    He stood a few inches behind her, arms crossed in front of him, making sure she followed his instructions. She had carefully folded Mr. Wood in half and shoved him to the back of her closet shelf. Now she closed the closet, making sure it was completely shut, as he ordered.
    Lindy watched silently from her bed, her expression troubled.
    “Does the closet door lock?” Mr. Powell asked.
    “No. Not really,” Kris told him, lowering her head.
    “Well, that will have to do,” he said. “On Monday, I’m taking him back to the pawn shop. Do not take him out until then.”
    “But, Dad—”
    He raised a hand to silence her.
    “We have to talk about this,” Kris pleaded. “You have to listen to me. What happened tonight—it wasn’t a practical joke. I—”
    Her father turned away from her, a scowl on his face. “Kris, I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow. Your mother and I—we’re both too angry and too upset to talk now.”
    “But, Dad—”
    Ignoring her, he stormed out of the room. She listened to his footsteps, hard and hurried, down the stairs. Then Kris slowly turned to Lindy. “Now do you believe me?”
    “I—I don’t know what to believe,” Lindy replied. “It was just so… unbelievably gross.”
    “Lindy, I—I—”
    “Daddy’s right. Let’s talk tomorrow,” Lindy said. “I’m sure everything will be clearer and calmer tomorrow.”

    But Kris couldn’t sleep. She shifted from side to side, uncomfortable, wide awake. She pulled the pillow over her face, held it there for a while, welcoming the soft darkness, then tossed it to the floor.
    I’m never going to sleep again, she thought.
    Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the hideous scene in the auditorium once again. She heard the astonished cries of the audience, the kids and their parents. And she heard the cries of shock turn to groans of disgust as the putrid gunk poured out over everyone.
    Sickening. So totally sickening.
    And everyone blamed her.
    My life is ruined, Kris thought. I can never go back there again. I can never go to school. I can never show my face anywhere.
    Ruined. My whole life. Ruined by that stupid dummy.
    In the next bed, Lindy snored softly, in a slow, steady rhythm.
    Kris turned her eyes to the bedroom window. The curtains hung down over the window, filtering the pale moonlight from outside. Slappy sat in his usual place in the chair in front of the window, bent in two, his head between his knees.
    Stupid dummies, Kris thought bitterly. So stupid.
    And now my life is ruined.
    She glanced at the clock. One-twenty. Outside the window, she heard a low, rumbling sound. A soft whistle of brakes. Probably a large truck going by.
    Kris yawned. She closed her eyes and saw the gross green gunk spewing out of Mr. Wood’s mouth.
    Will I see that every time I close my eyes? she wondered.
    What on earth was it? How could everyone blame me for something so… so…
    The rumbling of the truck faded into the distance.
    But then Kris heard another sound. A rustling sound.
    A soft footstep.
    Someone was moving.
    She sucked in her breath and held it, listening hard.
    Silence now. Silence so heavy, she could hear the loud thudding of her heart.
    Then another soft footstep.
    A shadow moved.
    The closet door swung open.
    Or was it just shadows shifting?
    No. Someone was moving. Moving from the open closet. Someone was creeping toward the bedroom door. Creeping so softly, so silently.
    Her heart pounding, Kris pulled herself up, trying not to make a sound. Realizing that she’d been holding her breath, she let it out slowly, silently. She took another breath, then sat up.
    The shadow moved slowly to the door.
    Kris lowered her feet to the floor, staring hard into the darkness, her eyes staying with the silent, moving figure.
    What’s happening? she wondered.
    The shadow moved again. She heard a scraping sound, the sound