"Nikki. About your question earlier...I wish that I knew the answer." Tears formed in her eyes. "I...I wish that I could help Stine be the person that the Lord wants him to be. 'Cause in the end...he is still my brother. My only brother. He is a pain...but I know that he means well. I do not want to give up on him. I cannot. Not yet."

Frankie and I were on the floor in my room and talking about who else? Stine. I was already sick of his name. I honestly did not want to discuss him. I wanted nothing to do with him. I would gag just thinking of him. Sadly, I could not avoid him. Not when I was buddies with his sister. My hatred for Stine was not as strong as my love for Frankie. Stine's actions should not be put on her.

Between us was a pile of crochet dolls. More dolls than I figured. Frankie had dumped them out and started to line them up. She expressed her true feelings about her brother and told me the important details, like what he was fearful of. I was interested. I placed my head in my hands and hung onto her words. If we wanted this plan to work, I had to know everything about Stine.

"I understand," I said. "As much as I hate the guy, I am happy that you have not turned your back on him. God says to love your enemies."

Frankie rubbed her eyes. "I would not say that he is my enemy. He is my brother. His mind works differently. I only wish that he would not treat us like trash."

I leaned forward. "Frankie?"

"Yes?"

"Do your parents love him more? Is he their favorite? I wonder if that is part of the reason why he is...him."

She played with her fingers. "There is something that I should tell you about my parents."

"Do not tell me that they are puppets."

She gave me a weird look. "Why do you think that?"

I repeated my statement in my mind and facepalmed. I was embarrassed. "Did I say that, Frankie?"

"Yes. And I would like to know why."

I clasped my hands in my lap. "Ask the writer. She told me to say it. She wrote this book after all."

"I cannot ask her when the fans are reading it. I cannot ask them."

Behind me was this short bookshelf against a wall. It is where I keep my books - of course - and journals. I like writing down my feelings and ideas. I also write horror stories. They are lame, but I enjoy it. I can write what I want. I am in control. I pulled out a purple journal and showed it to Frankie. I was not worried if she knew my secrets. She knew the value of secrets.

"Pretty journal, Nikki," she said. "Is this where all your juiciest secrets are kept?"

I shook my head and opened the journal to a new page. "The juiciest ones are in my red journal. I should put a lock on it now that Stine is in the picture."

She snapped her fingers. "Drat!"

"I can show you my short stories if you want. But let us plan out Stine's demise first."

Her eyes were so wide that they resembled eggs. "Back it up for a second. You write short stories?"

"Yeah. I have a total of fifteen."

"Amazing."

I giggled. "I would not call fifteen amazing."

Frankie put one of her crochet dolls in her lap. "Fifteen is still impressive. Stine has not even completed a story because he is on writer's block. I am convinced that my brother will be fixing computers rather than writing."

I was taken aback by what she said. I scooped up a pen and twirled it around. "Now you back it up. Stine loves writing too? And he is on writer's block?"

She sighed. "He would if he could only finish one story. People think that writing is so easy."

I tapped said pen on the open journal. "I can see how it can be difficult. No distractions. Using the right words. Brainstorming as you write. It can be frustrating."

She grasped a comb and began combing the doll's hair. "And the folks who live with writers. Stine keeps me up at night sometimes. He throws a fit when his stories do not go his way."

"Why do your parents not do anything about it?"

"They cannot because..."

"Because why? You can tell me."

"I...I am afraid that if I tell you, you and your mom will do something about it."

I grew concerned. "Are you...being abused? Is that why you do not want to tell me?" I cringed. I had to know - no matter how much I did not want to.

Frankie stretched out her legs. "You...assume that I am being abused?"

"I am hoping not. But something is up. Even if they are not abusing you, they could be favoring Stine over you. They should love both of their children the same."

"Now that you mention it...I believe that they favor my brother over me. He can do no wrong in their eyes."

I played with my rings. "That explains why he is a jerk. He is full of himself. But not for long." I clicked my pen and started writing. "Now tell me what he is scared of."

It turns out that Stine was fearful of many things - and things that normal people would not be afraid of. Here is the list:

- Clowns
- Spiders
- Snakes
- Writer's Block
- Running Out of Ink and Paper
- Being Late For School
- Ghosts and Ghouls
- Vampires
- Werewolves
- Zombies
- Living Puppets
- Frankie Dying (and Turning into a Zombie)
- People Finding Out His Secrets
- Being Outside
- Losing Glasses
- Falling in Love
- Failing at Writing
- Whales

"Why is he afraid of whales?"

"They are too big for his brain."