Night of the Living Dummy by R. L. Stine Page A

angrily to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass. “I—I can’t believe I was so stupid,” she muttered.
    “Neither can I,” Lindy agreed, grinning again.
    “You really made me start thinking that Mr. Wood was alive or something,” Kris said, staring out the window to the back yard below. “You really made me afraid of him.”
    “Aren’t I brilliant!” Lindy proclaimed.
    Kris turned to face her sister. “I’m never speaking to you again,” she said angrily.
    Lindy shrugged. “It was just a joke.”
    “No,” Kris insisted. “It was too mean to be just a joke. I’m never speaking to you again. Never.”
    “Fine,” Lindy replied curtly. “I thought you had a sense of humor. Fine.” She slid into bed, her back to Kris, and pulled the covers up over her head.
    I’ve got to find a way to pay her back for this, Kris thought. But how?

 
    16

    After school a few days later, Kris walked home with Cody. It was a hot, humid afternoon. The trees were still, and seemed to throw little shade on the sidewalk. The air above the pavement shimmered in the heat.
    “Wish we had a swimming pool,” Kris muttered, pulling her backpack off her shoulder.
    “I wish you had one, too,” Cody said, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his red T-shirt.
    “I’d like to dive into an enormous pool of iced tea,” Kris said, “like in the TV commercials. It always looks so cold and refreshing.”
    Cody made a face. “Swim in iced tea? With ice cubes and lemon?”
    “Forget it,” Kris muttered.
    They crossed the street. A couple of kids they knew rode by on bikes. Two men in white uniforms were up on ladders, leaning against the corner house, painting the gutters.
    “Bet they’re hot,” Cody remarked.
    “Let’s change the subject,” Kris suggested.
    “How are you doing with Mr. Wood?” Cody asked.
    “Not bad,” Kris said. “I think I’ve got some pretty good jokes. I should be ready for the concert tomorrow night.”
    They stopped at the corner and let a large blue van rumble past.
    “Are you talking to your sister?” Cody asked as they crossed the street. The bright sunlight made his white-blond hair glow.
    “A little,” Kris said, making a face. “I’m talking to her. But I haven’t forgiven her.”
    “That was such a dumb stunt she pulled,” Cody said sympathetically. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
    “It just made me feel like such a dork,” Kris admitted. “I mean, I was so stupid. She really had me believing that Mr. Wood was doing all that stuff.” Kris shook her head. Thinking about it made her feel embarrassed all over again.
    Her house came into view. She unzipped the back compartment of her backpack and searched for the keys.
    “Did you tell your mom about Lindy’s practical joke?” Cody asked.
    Kris shook her head. “Mom is totally disgusted. We’re not allowed to mention the dummies to her. Dad got home from Portland last night, and Mom told him what was going on. So we’re not allowed to mention the dummies to him, either!” She found the keys and started up the drive. “Thanks for walking home with me.”
    “Yeah. Sure.” Cody gave her a little wave and continued on toward his house up the street.
    Kris pushed the key into the front door lock. She could hear Barky jumping and yipping excitedly on the other side of the door. “I’m coming, Barky,” she called in. “Hold your horses.”
    She pushed open the door. Barky began leaping on her, whimpering as if she’d been away for months. “Okay, okay!” she cried laughing.
    It took several minutes to calm the dog down. Then Kris got a snack from the kitchen and headed up to her room to practice with Mr. Wood.
    She hoisted the dummy up from the chair where it had spent the day beside Lindy’s dummy. A can of Coke in one hand, the dummy over her shoulder, she headed to the dressing table and sat down in front of the mirror.
    This was the best time of day to rehearse, Kris