The dollhouse, p.18
The Dollhouse, page 18
Punishment for what? Angel thought angrily but bit it back. She’d already been punished for knocking over the camera. He was such a jerk sometimes. A little kid, holding on to grudges.
“Ooooh thank you!” Olivia stood on her tiptoes and kissed Alfred’s cheek. He looked surprised, but not unhappy. “Angel, hurry! I really want a Ding Dong!”
Calm down, Angel thought. Nothing like overacting to blow a plan.
Angel went into the living room where Bud was stretched out on the couch and shoved his feet off so she could sit down and put on her shoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Olivia flirting with Alfred to keep him distracted, giving her just enough time to pop up and retrieve the DVD. She slid her fingers between the first two books. Nothing. Panic gripped her chest. She tipped out the next book. Nothing! Oh, God! No longer concerned with being subtle, she started tipping out one book after another. Nothing!
Bud made a face at her and pointed to the next shelf down. Her fingers found the DVD immediately and relief washed over her like a warm breeze. She slipped the DVD under her shirt, between the front band of her skirt and her skin. It was cold and hard and sharp at the edges but it didn’t matter. She jumped back to the couch and finished putting on her shoes.
For a minute she forgot this mission wouldn’t be as simple as getting out of the house. Alfred quickly and happily reminded her.
“Goodness, I love our games, don’t you, Dolls?” Alfred grinned at them.
Angel wanted to yell that the games were stupid and cruel, but she needed out of the house and if these terrible games were the cost of that, so be it.
“Because you did such a fine job last time, darling Girl Doll, we’re going to try something different this time.” He grabbed Bud by the collar, jerked him up off the couch, and led him around the sofa to the dining table. Alfred pushed Bud into one of the chairs and began to carefully strap him in with thick, wide leather belts that went across his chest. He latched the belts behind Bud’s back. Alfred danced a few steps of cha-cha, then whipped out zip ties, like a magician showing off his prized rabbit. He zipped Bud’s hands together at the wrists, even though they were already incapacitated by the position of the belts. Alfred secured each of Bud’s shins to a leg of the chair, then zipped his ankles, all the while continuing his stupid dance, making flourishes with his hands, tipping an invisible hat.
Olivia and Angel couldn’t take their eyes away.
“Here are the rules. Girl Doll, you will go to the Shop & Go convenience store at the corner of Hartford and Oakland. You should be able to get there and back within 30 minutes.”
Angel cocked her head. “What are the directions?”
“That’s part of the game! You’ll need to figure that out!” Alfred clapped his hands, delighted. “You’ve been on Hartford before but I won’t tell you which time or which store.”
“How am I supposed to figure out where I’m going, buy whatever it is you want, and get back here in time? Can I please at least have a watch?” Angel pleaded. Olivia reached out a hand to touch her, soothe her fury, but Angel shook it away, especially when Alfred’s expression told her a watch was not part of the deal. “And if I’m late, then what? You’ll cut Bud? Pour acid on him? Or what?”
Olivia hissed. “Shut up!” Don’t give him ideas!
Alfred smirked at them. “Now, now, ladies, don’t fight.” He turned and showed them a new item from his collection of bizarre. “This, my dears, is called a cattle prod. Farmers use them to control giant beasts, and all I want to do is control one small Boy Doll. One zap—” He touched the gun to Bud, pulled the trigger, the sound of electric current filled the air, and Bud yelled. Alfred beamed. “See? Easy!”
Angel sucked down the vomit that rose in her throat. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. “You can’t do that! You’ll fry him!”
Alfred shrugged. “Oh, I’m not going to do it.” He turned to Olivia. “First Doll is.”
Olivia gasped. “No!”
“Every five minutes, Boy Doll gets another zap. If Girl Doll’s mission is not completed on time, I will pour water over Boy Doll’s head before the final zap. Which will thoroughly and completely fry his ass.” Alfred cackled, gleeful. “And if you’re still not back, I will turn to Olivia.”
Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Angel screamed in her head. But she had to get out, she couldn’t wait for the next opportunity or piss him off so there were no more opportunities. It was now or never.
“I have to use the bathroom before I go.” Angel snarled. Although she did, actually, need to pee, she was more concerned with buying time to calm down and figure out her next steps before the timer began.
Alfred threw Angel an amused look and then turned his back on her, adjusting the binds around Bud.
Angel was extra loud about sitting on the toilet, flushing. She went to the sink and turned on the water and used the time with her back turned on Alfred to be sure the DVD was secure in her underwear.
“Just Ding Dongs?” Angel demanded. She was trying, oh so hard, to be a good girl, but now she had the DVD and had a chance, she wanted to get on the way before he noticed something. Fear was making her brave.
“Little Debbie donuts?” She suggested. “Funions?”
The idea of his two favorite treats helped a bit. “Funions. And Ding Dongs. Here.” He threw a ten-dollar bill at her. “Remember, the store at the corner of Hartford and Oakland. You have 30 minutes. One minute late and First Doll will electrocute Boy Doll. He’ll be a Funion, too!”
Angel raced up the stairs.
“Take a coat!” Alfred yelled after her. His laugh followed her out the door.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
November 11, 2006
Hartford. Was that the first time she went to the store or the second? She’d never gone any direction except right. She ran to the first corner. Now, which way? Left, or right? Left was Grant’s. Right was Jimmy’s. Her gut told her to head toward Grant’s, so she dashed across the street, waving an apology to a car stopped at the sign. As she crossed she reached to her waistband, and her fingers dug around for the DVD. She had felt it when she ran out of the door. Now she didn’t feel it! Oh no!
She forced herself to stop and not panic. She lifted the hem of her uniform skirt and found the DVD snagged on the elastic of her underwear. Thank God!
Angel wished she’d actually listened to Alfred and grabbed a coat—from where though? He’d never given her a coat. Maybe there was one in the mudroom. She hadn’t noticed as she raced through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Think Angel, think.” Her smartest move would be to look for the Movies by Mail envelope in open mailboxes as she ran. If she was late, it damn well better be worth it. She knew she would struggle on the way back. But she also had to figure out where the hell she was going. For a minute she thought about heading toward Grant’s and getting the Funions and Ding Dongs there, but that wouldn’t work—Mr. Grant would recognize her, and Alfred always wanted the receipt. He’d know she disobeyed.
A high school boy was twenty feet ahead of her on the sidewalk, and she ran after him, yelling. “Hey! Hey! Where’s is Hartford and Oakland?”
“Jeez, calm down.” The kid said and pointed. “It’s two blocks that way—”
“Thanks!” Angel took off again, money clutched in one hand, DVD in the other. Her head swiveled this way and that, checking mailboxes. No envelopes. No fucking envelopes! People probably didn’t leave them hanging out when they had a mailbox. They probably put that little arm thing up on the box, right?
Jesus Jesus Jesus, she had to have been gone ten minutes already. No mailboxes, and no Casey’s. SHIT! Angel sprinted, felt her foot slip in a patch of iced-over leaves, fought to gain her balance. Damn, it was cold. Damn damn damn.
Shop and Go! She saw gas pumps and a red awning. That must be it!
She found the Ding Dongs, then the Funions, and got into line behind a mom with a baby perched on her hip, an old man wearing overalls and a thick yellow canvas jacket, and a young guy. The clerk was chatty but not as chatty as the last one.
“Please hurry! Please!” Angel whispered to the clerk. “And I need a bag!” He started to smile but then recognized her panic.
“You okay?”
“Fine!” Angel reached for the chips and cakes herself and shoved them into the bag. She almost forgot her change and the receipt but the clerk called her back. “Thanks!”
Angel flew out the door, dropped the money and receipt into the bag, and gripped the DVD even tighter. Damn it! She was supposed to have run around front to get the address of the ugly blue house but in her panic, she forgot! How would the police know where to find them? Damn damn damn!
As if her thought had beckoned him, a police cruiser pulled into the spot just in front of the door. The policeman got out, smiled at her, and Angel froze. Should she chance it? Try to tell this cop what was happening, drag him to the house—if she could find it—try to get there in time, hope Bud wasn’t already dead, wet and electrocuted?
No. Too much risk. Not enough reward.
The cop was looking at her strangely as he got closer.
Angel spun and raced in what she hoped was the right direction, clutching the bag to her side. Her brain was tight, literally tight, with fear. Her hands shook. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She had to calm down, had to had to. She began to hum. Her breathing slowed. Heartbeat slowed. Shaking stopped. Jesus, Angel, get it together.
Angel was recognizing houses near the blue house before she finally, finally spotted the telltale envelope clipped to a mailbox on the front porch of a pretty yellow house. The house was nice, neatly put together, with a display of holiday lights and a Santa flag hanging from a pole on the porch. Angel really really wanted to sit on that porch. White wicker furniture was covered in bright flowery fabrics. It looked mom-like. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Happy.
This was the right house.
Angel approached the mailbox, carefully watching to make sure no one saw her. The envelope was sealed. How could she undo it and then close it up again? She just had to take her chances.
The front door burst open and two teenagers bounced out, stopping with mouths open when they saw her at their mailbox. “What are you doing? Who are you?”
Angel dropped the sealed blue envelope, turned and ran, all sense of direction leaving her. She made two false turns before she finally found the right street and dashed up the steps into the ugly blue house. She hid the DVD in an old flower pot at the base of the steps to the back porch and covered it with a handful of leaves.
Please God let Bud be alive!
She made it with one minute to spare.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
November 12, 2006
“What happened?” Edward demanded, staring down the giant 9th grader packed into the office chair across from him. “How did Matty Thompson end up head first in a trash can?”
Lord Michael—that was his actual name, which explained quite a lot about the kid’s personality—shrugged and smirked. “Dunno. Maybe he was looking for something and fell in.”
“A number of people saw you ‘help’ him in. Why? What do you get out of picking on a kid you don’t even know? Do you not have friends?”
“Dude, I’m the most popular kid in this freakin’ school.” That smirk again.
“Trying to impress a girl?”
Lord rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to impress them. They try to impress me.”
Edward took a controlled breath, his eyes never leaving Lord’s. “So tell me. Why would someone—since it’s not you, of course—find pleasure in hurting and embarrassing a smaller kid? What do you think would be in it for them to do that?”
Lord laughed. “Pure entertainment value, dude. Pure entertainment value.”
“Well. Here’s the thing. You’re not going to mess with Matty again, and you’re going to help me make sure no one else hassles him, either.”
Lord snorted. Unfortunately, all his strength was physical; he was seriously lacking in the intellectual category. Probably why this was his second go-round in 9th grade. “Okay, sure, tell me why I’m going to do that?”
“Because you don’t want to get on my bad side, Lord. Truly you don’t.” Edward’s voice had gone soft and low. His foot was tapping under his desk, and he pressed a hand down on his knee to control it. “I’m going to trust that you’re as smart as you think you are. I don’t expect to see or hear a word about you or your pals and Matty unless it’s someone telling me how kind you’ve been to him. Got me?”
“Can I go now?” Lord was already standing and half-way to the door, all blonde Neanderthal, shaggy and handsome now, destined to be bald and fat in just a few years. His daddy’s car dealership money would be the only draw for the ladies then.
“Be sure to say hello to Matty’s mom on your way out. She’s the woman standing out there, missing work, worried about her son, who already had a tough year when his dad died.”
Edward followed Lord to the door, enjoying the very slight moment of discomfort Lord demonstrated as his slipped past the angry looking woman. “Ms. Thompson, good to see you again, wish it were better circumstances. Come on in.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
November 13, 2006
Edward shuffled the stack of papers on his desk, and sucked his lips together to fight a smile. A brave student had showed him cell phone video of Lord dropping Matty head-first into the garbage container, giving Edward all the proof he needed to pursue suspension. Initially he’d wanted full suspension, but then, with a little persuasion from Nyla, he’d agreed to in-school suspension, as long as the little asshole had to spend that time in Edward’s office.
Although the punishment had only begun this morning, Edward was enjoying every minute of it.
Lord Michael’s father was none too pleased, but given the option of full suspension, he eventually complied. Three days was nothing. But neither of them had realized, just yet, that Edward would not allow Lord to participate in wrestling activities during those three days. He was giddy, waiting to drop the bomb.
Edward glanced at the clock. Twenty after two. Just about time.
As if reading his thoughts, Lord shoved back his chair and stood, stretching and grinning nastily at Edward. “Thanks. Gotta say, this is a nice, boring place to get some shut eye.”
Edward nodded in agreement. “It’s definitely quiet. Much quieter than a classroom, or the hallway, or wrestling practice.”
The boy’s grin slipped just a bit at the mention of practice.
“Now that you’ve enjoyed your rest, time to get to work on the essay you have to complete before your suspension is lifted,” Edward said. “One thousand words on any odd couple in history, remember?”
Lord smirked. “Whatever. Tell you what. You write it for me.” He started to move toward the door.
“Sorry, kiddo, time’s not up yet.” Edward pointed to the clock.
“I have practice.” Lord said, pausing.
Edward shook his head, not even pretending to be sad. “Not today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Suspension means no extracurricular activities or sports. Take a seat. School’s not out til 3:00.”
Lord looked like he was going to argue, but something made him change his mind, and he sat. He turned backwards in the chair, facing the door, and rested his arms across the back of the chair. Waiting.
Edward knew exactly what he was waiting for, and right on time, the Coach burst in at 2:30.
“Get up, Lord. You’re late.” Coach Smiley announced, acting as though he didn’t notice—or care—that Edward was there.
Lord shot Edward a pleased look and stood.
“Sorry, guys. As I explained to Lord, suspension includes sports. Lord will join you for practice on Monday, assuming he makes it through suspension successfully. He has a paper to write.” Edward fought a grin. The bad guys would not win this time.
Coach Smiley threw him a death glare. “I need my team, all of them, to be at practice. That includes Lord. This suspension is bullshit and you know it. He’s coming with me.”
“If Lord leaves this office, his suspension will change from in-school to full suspension.” Edward explained. He didn’t bother to stand. Instead he leaned back in his chair, comfortable and confident.
“You’re making a mistake.” Smiley declared. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“That Matty kid is a wimp.” Smiley said.
“This kid is a bully.” Edward responded.
“This won’t end well.”
“It will if we both do our jobs. Lord will realize being a bully and a jerk has no value or purpose. Focusing on excelling in areas where you have talent will take you all the way to the top.”
“The misguided belief of wimps and pansies everywhere.” Smiley turned, and looked at Lord. “Stay here, do what this guy tells you—for now. I’ll talk to the principal and get you sprung.” He tried to slam the door behind him, but the doors weren’t designed for slamming.
Lord nodded once and sat back in the chair. He began to write, or doodle, on the pad in front of him. After a few moments he said, “That wasn’t smart. Coach has a mean streak. If you piss him off, things go wrong.”
“Thank you for the head’s up. My job isn’t to worry about Coach, though. It’s to help you grow into a worthwhile adult. You don’t have to be mean to be successful, Lord. You’re already popular. You’re not adding anything by tormenting other kids.”
