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comedy routine to perform.” She glanced at Kris. “But I like making up my own jokes better.”
    “You should watch your sister’s act,” Mrs. Powell told Kris, handing her a bowl of ice cream. “I mean, you could probably pick up some pointers for the concert at school.”
    “Maybe,” Kris replied, trying to hide how annoyed she was.
    After dinner, Mr. Powell called from Portland, and they all talked with him. Lindy told him about her success with Slappy at the birthday party. Kris told him about being asked to host the concert with Mr. Wood. Her father promised he wouldn’t schedule any road trips so that he could attend the concert.
    After watching a video their mother had rented at the mall, the two sisters went up to their room. It was a little after eleven.
    Kris clicked on the light. Lindy followed her in.
    They both glanced across the room to the chair where they kept the two dummies—and gasped.
    “Oh, no!” Lindy cried, raising one hand to her wide open mouth.
    Earlier that night, the dummies had been placed side by side in a sitting position.
    But now Slappy was upside down, falling out of the chair, his head on the floor. His brown shoes had been pulled off his feet and tossed against the wall. His suit jacket had been pulled halfway down his arms, trapping his hands behind his back.
    “L-look!” Kris stammered, although her sister was already staring in horror at the scene. “Mr. Wood—he’s…” Kris’ voice caught in her throat.
    Mr. Wood was sprawled on top of Slappy. His hands were wrapped around Slappy’s throat, as if he were strangling him.

 
    10

    “I—I don’t believe this!” Kris managed to whisper. She turned and caught the frightened expression on Lindy’s face.
    “What’s going on ?” Lindy cried.
    Both sisters hurried across the room. Kris grabbed Mr. Wood by the back of the neck and pulled him off the other dummy. She felt as if she were separating two fighting boys.
    She held Mr. Wood up in front of her, examining him carefully, staring at his face as if half-expecting him to talk to her.
    Then she lowered the dummy and tossed it facedown onto her bed. Her face was pale and taut with fear.
    Lindy stooped and picked up Slappy’s brown shoes from the floor. She held them up and studied them, as if they would offer a clue as to what had happened.
    “Kris—did you do this?” Lindy asked softly.
    “Huh? Me?” Kris reacted with surprise.
    “I mean, I know you’re jealous of Slappy and me—” Lindy started.
    “Whoa. Wait a minute,” Kris replied angrily in a shrill, trembling voice. “I didn’t do this, Lindy. Don’t accuse me.”
    Lindy glared at her sister, studying her face. Then her expression softened and she sighed. “I don’t get. I just don’t get it. Look at Slappy. He’s nearly been torn apart.”
    She set the shoes down on the chair and picked the dummy up gently as if picking up a baby. Holding him in one hand, she struggled to pull his suit jacket up with the other.
    Kris heard her sister mutter something. It sounded like “Your dummy is evil.”
    “What did you say?” Kris demanded.
    “Nothing,” Lindy replied, still struggling with the jacket. “I’m… uh… I’m kind of scared about this,” Lindy confessed, blushing, avoiding Kris’ eyes.
    “Me, too,” Kris admitted. “Something weird is going on. I think we should tell Mom.”
    Lindy buttoned the jacket. Then she sat down on the bed with Slappy on her lap and started to replace the dummy’s shoes. “Yeah. I guess we should,” she replied. “It—it’s just so creepy.”
    Their mother was in bed, reading a Stephen King novel. Her bedroom was dark except for a tiny reading lamp on her headboard that threw down a narrow triangle of yellow light.
    Mrs. Powell uttered a short cry as her two daughters appeared out of the shadows. “Oh. You startled me. This is such a scary book, and I think I was just about to fall asleep.”
    “Can we talk to you?” Kris asked eagerly in a