The Dollhouse

CHAPTER ONE

MALL--- NEXT EXIT, the sign said. FINE STORES AND SPECIALTY SHOPS! INTERNATIONAL FOOD COURT!
Food court? That meant pizzas. Cheeseburgers. Tacos.
Bingo!
" I'm hungry." Susan said.
She leaned forward, her chin resting on the back of the front seat, and said it again, just in case her parents hadn't heard her the first time. " I'm hungry. Starving to death hungry."
Mrs. Martin looked at her watch.
" Well, it's lunchtime, Henry,"she told Susan's father. " And there won't be any food in the new house."
"The fridge probably won't even plugged in," Susan added.
"I hate malls," Mr. Martin said tiredly. "All those people. Can't we find a nice, quiet restaurant?"
Mrs. Martin pulled a shopping list from her purse and glanced at it. " Actually, this will save me a trip later. We 'll need a new shower curtain, among other things, if we're all going to clean up tonight."
Mr. Martin sighed and pulled over to the exit lane. " Well, all right."
Susan reached into the space-age kiddie seat beside her and gently nudged ber baby brother's chubby little arm.
" Did you hear that, Howie? Lunch at the mall. That means pizza, big guy."
Howie 's round blue eyes lit up. "Piz-za!"
Howie was just learning to talk. So far he knew three words: ma-ma, da-da and piz-za.
"Piz-za! Piz-za!" Howie chanted happily as Mr. Martin drove down the exit ramp and headed the car in the direction of the mall.
Susan brushed her long brown hair out of her eyes and stared out the window. The mall looked brand new, even at a distance. Its whitewashed brick and concrete glittered in the sun.
And it was big. Huge, in fact. It sprawled across the top of what must have been a large hill. Mr. Martin pulled into the vast outdoor parking area and found a spot near a little brick walkway that led to one of the entrances. Over it was a striped awning with sign:

INTERNATIONAL FOOD COURT
FOOD FROM AROUND THE WORLD
Susan grinned. "Let's eat!"
As they walked through the wide, heavy glass doors into the coolness of the mall, a fu ny little shiver went down Susan's spine.
"It's cold in here," she said, shivering again.
"It feels just right to me," said her mother.
Mr. Martin shifted Howie too his older shoulder. "Your Irish great-grandmother would have said that a goose just walked over your grave, Susan."
"What does that mean?" Susan asked worriedly.
"Nothing," replied her father, "it's just an old saying."
"Really, Henry," Mrs. Martin said with a frown. "You don't need to upset the children with Granny's spooky old sayings."
"Piz-za! Piz-za!" shouted Howie.
Mr.Martin chuckled. "Howie doesn't sound upset."
Susan's mother settled herself and Howie at a table in the court while Susan and her father went to the take-out counters for their orders.
Susan's father went to the All-American Salad Nar for his wife and the Roadt Neef of Olde England Sandwich counter for himself.
Susan went to Viva Vinnie's for her taco and the Tower of Pasta for Howie's pizza.
"Easy on the sauce,"she told the man behind the counter. "It's for my baby brother."
The man raised his eyebrows.
"He eats only the cheese," Susan explained. "And he likes to gum the crust. Hr's getting some new teeth."
When Susan brought the foods to the table, she found Howie being admired by a couple of elderly ladies at the next table.
Susan rolled her eyes. Howie had that effect on people. Particularly older women.
His pale-yellow hair was the same color and texture as a baby chick's fuzz, and it stood up on his head the same way, too. No amount of brushing would make it stay down.
"

Piz-za! Piz-za!" exclaimed Howie, thumping the table.
Soon everyone was busily gulping doen their food. Susan glanced around the food court. "This mall is bigger than the one back home," she said thoughtfully.
Her mother smiled. "Then maybe this move won't be quite as terrible as you thought. You know how much you love going to malls."
"But not by myself." Susan put down her taco. Her appetite had suddenly vanished. "I always went with Donna. I miss her already."
Mrs. Martin reached over and laid her hand on Susan's. "You'll make new friends, sweetie. Believe me."
"That 's easy for you to say, Mom. You don't have to worry about starting a new school. By sixth grade, everyone's had best friends for years and years!" Susan sighed deeply. "That's how it was with Donna and me, anyway."
Susan's parents exchanged anxious glances across the table.
"Look, Susie," said her father. "You know we had no choice. We had to come here because of my job."
"Yeah, but---"
"That's the way it is, and you might as well get used to it," he said. "Anyway, once we're settled in our new neighborhood, I know you're going to meet some new kids."
"Maybe." Susan wasn't sure. Parents always said stuff like that.
"Besides," added her mom, "I just know you're going to love our new house."
The thought of her new house took Susan's mind off Donna for a moment. Dad and Mom kept saying how beautiful it was, but they refused to describe it.
"Why won't you tell me anything about the new house?" she asked, biting into her taco again.
"Because I want it to be surprise," her dad said with a sly grin. "I want to see the look on your face when we get there."
"It's really that nice?"
"I think so. Don't you, Marion?"
"I still don't know you got it at that price, Henry," Mrs. Martin said. "What a good deal! You certainly have a nose for real estate."
Susan's father looked very pleased with himself.
Mrs. Martin glanced hurriedly at her watch.
"And speaking of the new house, I'd better get my shopping done. The movers are supposed to arrive with the furniture sometime this afternoon."
"Where are you going?" Susan asked.
"There's bound to be a bed and bath shop around here somewhere," her mother said, looking around. "I need things for the main bathroom. "
"Could I go off on my own, then, while you're shopping?" Susan added. "Donna 's birthday is coming up. I'd like to start looking for the perfect present."
Her mother wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, Susan. This is a new mall. You don't know your way around. You'll get lost."
"No I won't, Mom. There are always big maps everywhere in the malls. You know, with a big X to show you exactly where you are."
Mrs. Martin looked doubtful.
"Look, Mom, how long are you going to be? A half hour? I'll meet you right here in a half hour, okay?"
"We-ell," said her mother.
"I think Susan will be all right on her own for half hour, Marion," Mr. Martin said evenly, wiping cheese off Howie's chin.
"Thanks, Dad." Susan shot him a grateful grin.
"A half hour now, remember?" repeated her mother.
"Are you wearing your watch?" asked her father.
She held up her arm with the Mickey Mouse watch. Then she saluted her father. "A half hour, sir. On the dot!"
She clicked her heels together, no easy job in a pair of sneakers, and marched briskly away.
Her father laughed.
"If you think she's bad now, wait until she's a teenager," she heard her mother say.

* * * * * * * * *
Susan walked away slowly through the main hall, trying to figure out what to get Donna for her birthday next month. It had to be something special. She wanted Donna to know that she missed her and that she wouldn't forget her.
She stopped and peered into the window of a costume jewelry shop. She and Donna were dying to have their ears pierced, but both of their mothers said they had to wait until next year. Really! She and Donna were nearly twelve. All rhe otber girls their age were wearing earrings already.
Susan sighed and moved on. Some of the small clothes store were having half-price sales. Maybe a nice scarf. No. It might be the wrong color or something. Donna was sort of picky about what she wore.
The hall ended at a big intersection called the Clock Court in the center of the court stood a huge clock with giant Roman numerals. On the clock, just right above the dial, there was a big castle carved out of wood and painted gold. The clock was chiming the hour as Susan approached.
There was a whirring sound and suddenly the gates of the castle opened and four little woodden knights on horseback came riding out. Two galloped around in circle to the left, while the other two went to the right. Each time they passed each other, one of them was knocked back in the saddle by his enemy's lance.
Susan watched, fascinated, until the little knights finally disappeared once again into the castle courtyard and the gate closed behind them. All around her were murmurs of delight.
What a show! Susan thought. She'd definitely have to bring Howie here. He'd love it.
Leaving the Clock Court, she headed down a corridor that branched off the main passageway. There were smaller shops here. Specialty shops.
At the end of the hall was a little toy store.
Susan stopped and stared at it curiously. It looked different from the rest of the shops---almost as if it had been plucked from some other place and shoved into his hall. For one thing, it seemed older than the other stores. It was almost run-down. Its small windows were framed by dull wood that was chipped in places.
Susan peered inside, but the shop was too dimly lit for her to see anything. She looked up. A sign above the door proclaimed in old-fashioned, flowing script:

THE ONCE AND FOREVER TOY SHOP
JEREMY TIDWELL, PROPRIETER

"Hmm," Susan said aloud. Should she go in? There was something strangely inviting about the place. Maybe it wad because it didn't seem as glitzy as the rest of the shops.
A little bell jangled as he opened the door.
Then she felt it again--- that shivery feeling she'd had earlier.
What was the matter with her, anyway? Was she coming down with something?
And then she remembered what her father had said. About the goose walking in her grave. What did that mean? Whatever it was, it didn't sound very nice.
The shop was dark and deserted.
"Mr. Tidwell?" Susan called into the gloom. "Hello! Is anybody here?"
She sniffed once. The air smelled of must and mildew, like an old, abandoned attic.
The shop was actually a little bit creepy.
All the toys on the shelves looked old. There were little toy ships with real cloth sails. Dolls with painted china faces dressed in ruffles and holding little parasols. A doll-sized set of blue willow china, laid out on a tiny table. And on the counter near the door stood a row of little tin soldiers.
Susan looked at the soldiers closely. They were shiny. Newly painted. But they looked. . . old.
Maybe it was their faces. They weren't the sort of faces you'd see on toys. These faces had set, angry expressions. Cruel, even.
One of the soldiers was holding a rifle with a bayonet. Susan had watched a lot of old war movies on TV. She remembered how she'd always fet goosebumps when the commanding officer ordered, "Fix bayonets!"
The movies had always gotten gory at that point. And here was little toy soldier with---oh no, how gross! The toy manufacturer had painted the end of the bayonet red to look like blood.
Susan frowned.
The little soldier's leg was wrapped with a bandage that was splotched with red paint.
She brought her head even closer. The red paint almost looked like the real thing. It almost looked as if blood were oozing out of the bandage. Susan reached out her finger and touched the leg of the little figure.
Then she gasped.
The leg was warm and her finger came away wet. Without thinking, she put her finger in her mouth.
It tasted salty. And coppery. Like blood.
And then a cold, clammy hand grabbed her shoulder.