Dad pulled his hand out from my dummy's back before tossing him back in his chest. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stood and tried convincing me and Mom that he did not do it. He never made my new dummy talk. He never moved him.

"It felt as if the controls were moving by themselves. It was weird. Probably the weirdest thing that I have ever experienced."

Mom slapped his knee and giggled. She snorted, which made her giggle even more. "Oops. I should really stop sounding like a pig."

A booming voice suddenly filled the air.

"You are so fat that people mistake you for a pig!"

A shiver shot down my spine. I grasped the sides of the chair. I would have tumbled to the floor had I not been sitting. I soon realized that it was my father's voice. He used that chilling yet awesome voice for my dummy. It was perfect for my new friend. I did not know if I could make him sound like that. I scolded Dad for calling his wife fat and comparing her to a pig. She is not even fat. Her doctor said that she has a perfect weight.

Mom smiled. "I appreciate you saying that, Clay. It was sweet. But your dad never mentioned me being fat or a pig."

"Yes, he did. He just did. Did you not hear him?"

Her smile grew. "I have been with this old man for lots and lots of years. I would know if I heard him."

"You did not hear his low voice?"

"Nope."

How did she not catch it? It was low, but it was as clear as day. I heard it, so I knew that I was not imagining it. I looked back at Dad and noticed the seriousness in his eyes. I hopped out of said chair and carefully picked up the dummy.

Dad was scratching the top of his head. "Clay. I did not speak in a low voice. I never did. I did not compare her to pig. I would never say such a thing."

I tucked the dummy under my arm. "If you did not say it...who did?"

"What did the voice say exactly?"

"Sounded like a boy's. A man's. He said, 'You are so fat that people mistake you for a pig!'"

Mom gasped and shook her finger at me. "Clay. Watch your mouth. I will clean it with soap. Then ground you. Maybe I will take away your dummy too."

I hugged my dummy to my chest. "I am not the person who said that, Mom. Well...I did state it. But I was only repeating what somebody else stated. I assumed that it was Dad, but by the expression written on his now pale face...he has nothing to do with it."

She stood in front of him. "Clay is not joking. Your face is pale. As pale as a ghost's." She laid a hand on his soft cheek. "Goodness. And you are warm. You are burning up! You are not turning into a ghost - are you? 'Cause I cannot care for Clay myself."

A gentle smile spread across his face as he reached out and took her hand. "Sweetie. You can do anything that you put your mind to. You would do anything for Clay. You love him more than yourself. So if I go before you, you will still be the best mother. And I will be watching over you."

"I can never get rid of you, huh?"

"Nope."

She tugged him to the stairs. "Come on. I will take your temperature."

I watched my parents go up the stairs and vanish. I sat back down and fidgeted with my puppet. "It is just you and me now, Mr. BadDummy. I cannot wait for school. I will show you to all my teachers and classmates - and maybe do a joke or two. If I can ever speak without my lips moving."

Why am I talking to a dummy? He cannot talk or walk. He is not alive. But it would be cool.

The puppet was on my knee with his legs dangling. His arms were at his sides. His glassy eyes were blinded by the white light enclosed in a bulb above the ceiling. His lips were redder than before. I ran my fingers along his long crack and tapped his wooden cheek with a finger.

"Hollow," I broke the eerie silence. I could not take my eyes off him. "You are as hollow as a tree. I should not be surprised, but I have never had a dummy. I promise to take excellent care of you. I will not break you. I will keep you clean and practice with you. We will have the time of our lives."

Why am I still talking to the dummy?

I carried him upstairs to my room and shut my door so Mom and Dad could not hear me in case that I threw a tantrum. I led a tour of my room. I know. It is stupid to show a puppet around. He could care less. He does not care what I do. He is a lifeless dummy. He has no mind of his own.

I sat on the edge of my bed and propped my puppet on my thigh. I slowly slid my hand in his back and worked the controls. Mouth. Eyes. Eyebrows. I moved his head all around. Creepy - and cool!

I cleared my throat. "So Mr. BadDummy, do you like it here?"

I tried to not move my lips as I worked the control that moved his jaw. "I do not like it. I love it. I looooove my new home. But not as much as I love my new friend."

I sometimes forget about my mouth moving when I am invested in the act.

I raised my other hand. "I am not...huh?"

Were his eyes always red?