Toy Dance Party (9 page)

“If you do, you don’t show it,” snaps TukTuk. “I’m never in the linen closet with the other towels, I’m never in the grown-up bathroom with the
other
other towels. It’s rare that I even get
washed
with anybody,” she complains. “And even my so-called friends don’t tell me what’s happening.”

“Are you upset I didn’t tell you that the Dryer was broken?”

“It’s not about the Dryer,” sulks TukTuk.

“What’s it about, then?” Lumphy asks. The water drains and Frank’s tub begins to spin.

“I heard you had a dance party,” TukTuk says. “Every other towel in the house was there. They’re all talking about it.”

“Oh.”

“Just because I get washed with the Girl-clothes doesn’t mean I don’t want to go to a party,” says TukTuk.

“I’m—”

“And just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean I don’t want to, either.”

Lumphy doesn’t know what to say. He wants to make TukTuk feel better, but they are inside Frank’s washtub—and he can’t say in front of Frank that he had never intended to have that dance party in the first place. So he stays silent, and TukTuk stays silent, too. They let Frank go through his cycle.

When it is done, Frank’s buzzer beeps and Honey’s mother returns to the basement. She dumps Lumphy and the towels into the hamper while she talks to the workman, who is finally, finally finished. He is putting away his tools, and the Dryer is pushed back against the wall.

“Thanks so much,” the mom tells him. “Come up and I’ll write you a check.” She sets down the laundry basket.

“Don’tcha want to put that in?” he says, gesturing at the damp wash.

“Silly me.” She holds up Lumphy. “This can go in as well?”

“Should be okay.”

Honey’s mother shoves Lumphy and all the towels into the Dryer and turns it on.

The Dryer purrs.

. . . . .

That is the noise Lumphy makes when he is in it, because he rides three-quarters of the way up the turning drum, then Fwuuumpa!

It is not his favorite experience, at all.

In fact, he feels sick to his stomach worse than he’s ever felt sick to his stomach before, but he keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t complain one tiny complaint, even. He is so happy that the Dryer is well again. That she won’t be dragged off to the dump and replaced by a stranger.

. . . . .

When the Dryer halts, it is after dinnertime, but the spring sky is still bright, the evening sun shining through the basement windows. Honey and her parents are out of the house. Lumphy can tell by how quiet it is.

“I am so glad you’re feeling better,” he calls, after the Dryer’s drum rolls to a stop. She swings her door open, and since the house is empty, he climbs out. TukTuk remains in an exhausted heap with the Girl-clothes.

“We all wished and hoped that you’d be okay,” Lumphy tells the Dryer. “We were so worried.”

“
I
was so worried,” puts in Frank. “With you pulled out from the wall like that—you can’t even imagine. Sometimes I thought that workman didn’t know what he was doing. I thought you were never going to tumble dry again. I thought you were leaving me.” Frank sobs. “I was so lonely. I didn’t know what to do!”

“There, there, love,” says the Dryer. “I know. I know. But it’s all right now.”

. . . . .

Late at night, when the people are sound asleep, Lumphy creeps upstairs and gets Plastic, Sheep, StingRay, Spark, Bonkers, Millie, Brownie, and Rocky. They bring down jingle sticks, finger cymbals, a maraca, some silver confetti, and several orange and yellow balloons found in the bottom of the toy box. When they get to the basement, they sprinkle the floor with silver, then wake up Frank, the Dryer, TukTuk, and the purple towels. Spark, who is hollow, blows up the balloons.

Dance party!

Frank starts off with “Love Train” and the towels join in, providing backbeat and harmonies. Rocky and Millie bounce on the towels, and Lumphy bangs the cymbals. StingRay taps her tail and, as the beat gets her going, begins hopping up and down with her flippers and leaping into the air.

“The party is for you, not just the Dryer,” Lumphy tells TukTuk. “I won’t forget to invite you again.”

Frank overhears and interrupts “Love Train” to boom, “Shall I sing something for the little lady?”

“Yes, please,” says Lumphy. “Because she is my particular towel friend.” He rubs his buffalo nose against TukTuk’s warm folds, and Frank improvises:

TukTuk, seated on top of the Dryer and singing backup with some other towels, isn’t angry with Lumphy anymore. The music is loud. Plastic bounces and spins. Spark rears onto her tail and waggles a jingle stick ferociously, and StingRay is flapping and clapping. Lumphy is going to town with the cymbals. Bonkers and Brownie are wiggling themselves so hysterically, they keep falling over their tails, which sends them into fits of giggles, while the Dryer swings her front door open and shut and blinks all her lights on and off. She is dancing!

“Sweetheart,” says Frank when the TukTuk song is over. “This next one’s for you. Towels, back me up some more. Here we go!”

CHAPTER SIX
 
 Let’s Do Our Nails

P
lastic and Spark are in the bathtub. It is bouncy to have a friend to float with, and Plastic is boinging herself against the tiled wall and dropping back into the water with a big splash. Spark is swimming in circles with only her fin above the water. It is a Saturday afternoon in late spring. Honey has a soccer game, and the family is out of the house.

Lumphy watches Plastic and Spark from atop the closed toilet seat, and StingRay is looking at the pretty colors of nail polish lined up at the back of the sink. Purple, red, pale green, and glitter gold. Robin’s egg blue, even. Each one has a tiny brush inside for painting fingernails.

That robin’s egg blue polish is almost the same color as StingRay herself.

Plop! Plastic boings into the water again.

“You’re splashing too much,” StingRay warns, waving a flipper. “See those water spots on my plush? And look at that puddle on the floor. How are we going to clean it all up?”

“Don’t use
me,
” warns TukTuk, from her place on the rack. “I only just dried out from last night, and for once I’m folded neatly.”

“Calm down, people. We’ll use the bath mat,” says Spark, lifting her head out of the water.

The bath mat doesn’t talk.

“A bath mat doesn’t have the same absorbency as a towel,” says TukTuk. “You’re not going to soak up that whole puddle with just a bath mat.”

“I can get a purple towel from the grown-up bathroom,” proposes Lumphy.

“Or Plastic could stop splashing,” says StingRay. “If she weren’t splashing, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Sorry.” Plastic is embarrassed.

“Stop worrying,” says Spark, lifting her head out again. “It’s not like Honey’s observant or anything. She won’t notice a little water, and neither will her parents.”

“Honey is,
too,
observant,” says Plastic.

“Suit yourself.” Spark heaves herself onto the ledge of the tub, dripping water onto the tiles. “But what kind of a kid leaves a shark in a box and then a mouse in a vacuum cleaner? Unobservant, that’s what kind.”

“She didn’t
know
Bonkers got sucked into the vacuum!” cries StingRay.

“Because she failed to
observe it,
” says Spark.

StingRay is loyal. “Honey’s very busy. She’s got soccer and chores and homework to think about.”

“She’s getting older,” puts in Lumphy. “That’s what the problem is.”

“I’m just saying,” Spark explains. “Honey forgot to get Lumphy out of the basement the night we had the dance party. She didn’t play with you guys at the sleepover. Plus she’s forcing me to play dress-up and do stupid Barbie stuff, when any kid paying attention should be able to tell I don’t like it. Hello? Honey is okay, but she doesn’t seem that into us, if you want to know what I think.”

“She used to be wonderful,” says Plastic. “Just wonderfully wonderful.”

Plastic hates that Spark doesn’t love Honey, because Plastic loves her no matter what and for always—but it is true that things are not quite the same as they were when Honey was younger.

“She didn’t notice I had that hole in my flipper,” StingRay admits.

“She doesn’t play in the bath anymore,” adds TukTuk.

“She didn’t take us on vacation,” says Lumphy. “Not one single one of us.”

“And there’s not as much specialness.” This last is hard for StingRay to say. She looks at the floor while she speaks. “It used to seem like the specialness would go on forever and ever, but now it’s hardly ever special.”

Spark drops into the bathtub again, pulls the plug with her teeth, and hurls her rubbery body over the ledge onto the bath mat. She shakes herself dry like a dog and announces: “Let’s do our nails.”

“What?” asks Lumphy.

“Our nails. I see you checking out that polish, StingRay.”

StingRay nods absently. She is still thinking about the specialness problem.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” says Spark.

“I don’t have any nails,” says Plastic, nervous. “It’s normal for a ball!”

“Neither do I,” says Spark. “Who cares? ‘Do our nails’ is an expression. We’ll paint something else with the nail polish. That’ll cheer you guys up, won’t it?”

Plastic bounces over to look at the colors. “Oooh!” she cries. “There’s gold here! Real live glitter gold!”

“What would we paint instead of nails?” StingRay wonders. “The Barbie box or something?” The idea comes out of her mouth without any planning.

“Aha!” cries Spark.

“Aha what?”

“Aha,
yes
! The Barbie box!” Spark throws herself out the bathroom door and down the hall. “Fantastic idea, fishie!” she calls over her top fin.

Lumphy and StingRay look at one another for a minute, StingRay feeling surprised at the idea she has voiced. Painting the Barbie box.

She didn’t mean to suggest it.

Or maybe she did.

In fact, she did mean it.

That stupid box and those silent Barbies, getting all the attention and specialness.

StingRay grabs two bottles of polish from the edge of the sink and leaps with them down to the floor. “What are you waiting for?” she asks Lumphy.

“Nothing,” Lumphy answers. “I’m waiting for nothing.” He scrambles up, sticks two bottles under his front legs, one more in his mouth—and jumps. The two of them hurry down the hall.

“Wait!” calls Plastic, unsure.

No answer.

“They’re not waiting,” says TukTuk.