Okiku ignores them. She’s been counting tiles on the floor, black hair flapping behind her like a bird’s wing. Neither Sondheim nor Trish sees her. Most usually don’t.
“It’s gone,” I tell them wearily, not bothering with the details.
“Damn, Halloway,” the jock says, looking around his apartment. “How about doing it without trashing the place?”
I suppose a show of gratitude was too much to expect. “I got the job done, all right? That’s more than you were able to do.” I lift the garbage bag. “Wanna burn it?”
Sondheim takes a step back, eyeing the sack like it ate his grandmother. “Uh, no way, man. I’m not touching that.”
Figures.
“You’re sure it’s not going to come back?” Trish speaks up uncertainly. “I mean, really sure?”
“Positive.”
“My mom’s vase.” Sondheim moans. “And the painting’s got a hole in it!”
“It’s only a Manet reproduction,” I say. “And kitsch is in nowadays.” The side effect of being a spoiled rich kid is that I know how much things cost.
The jock glares. Okiku stops by the vase’s corpse and begins counting the broken pieces.
“I should never have listened to you,” Sondheim snaps, turning on his girlfriend. “Why the hell did you want to play some stupid ghost game anyway?”
“Beth and Lisa played it,” the cheerleader whines, tugging at a strand of golden hair. “Nothing happened to them.”
“That’s because you didn’t follow the rules.” I speak up, not feeling particularly sympathetic. One-man tag is a ritual that has no real purpose other than to mess with nearby spirits. Invite one into a doll’s body, fool around with it for an hour to prove your manliness, then—hopefully—send it back to where it came from without repercussion. It’s supposed to be a test of courage.
“You didn’t use salt water, you didn’t bother cleansing the place with incense beforehand, and worst of all, you didn’t finish the game. You might have gotten away with that if you’d been in a public place, but by summoning a spirit here, you might as well have drawn a large exclamation point over your house.”
Both stare blankly at me. “How the hell could we finish the game after seeing that…that thing stand up?” Sondheim demands.
“Beth and Lisa said the doll just lay there when they tried it,” Trish chimes in.
Inwardly, I groan. About the only smart thing they did tonight was call me for help, though being woken up at two in the morning by people who never give me the time of day isn’t something I enjoy. I don’t even know how they got my number.
“Yeah, well, if you’re not prepared to see things go bump in the night, then don’t go playing with dolls in the first place.”
I heft the garbage bag over my shoulder, knowing this will be the first and only time I score one over on Andrew Sondheim. “And one last thing, not that I’d recommend there be a next time—but at least pick a better name than ‘Dumbelina.’ You don’t want to anger the creature before the game even starts. You might not wanna take it seriously, but believe me: it takes you very, very seriously. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a doll to burn and classes in the morning.”
I walk out, Okiku trailing after me. I can hear bits of an argument starting up again after the door closes behind me. The two of them will probably tell everyone what happened here tonight, stirring up new rumors to cement my status as a freak, but I don’t really care. Trish has a fondness for hyperbole, so it’s not like anyone in school will believe her.
It’s 4:30 a.m. and I’m tired—but glad I only live a few blocks away. I bike back to my house and let myself in, not bothering to be quiet about it. Dad’s away on business and won’t be home ’til late afternoon, so I’ve got plenty of time.
I burn the doll in a metal trash bin I found in a junkyard several months ago. Most days it sits half hidden behind some bushes in the garden. Dad probably doesn’t even know it’s there. I’ve used it about thirty-five times.
It’s a quick and easy bonfire. I empty the contents of the garbage bag into the can, making sure I don’t leave anything out, then strike a match.
The doll burns easily enough. Its beady black eyes watch me until its face disappears into the flames and smoke. Soon, nothing will remain of it but black soot and angry memories.
When there is nothing left of the doll, Okiku smiles. She always does.