Emily Jenkins - Toy Dance Party

Plastic thinks some more. “Did you see that nail polish?” she asks.

Yes, TukTuk saw it.

“There was a glitter gold color.”

“Um hm.”

“Glittery goldy gold,” says Plastic. “So so bright, glittery gold polish!”

“Are you changing your mind?” asks TukTuk. “Are you going to be naughty now?”

“I’m changing my mind!” yells Plastic, twirling. “Glittery goldy gold polish!”

She bounces down the hall after the others.

. . . . .

Everyone’s paintings look excellent, thinks Plastic, bounding into the bedroom. “Glittery goldy gold!” she cries again. “Is anyone using it? Can I have a turn?”

StingRay pours a puddle of glitter gold on the big flat lid of the Barbie box.

“Thank you!” says Plastic, springing up. “Ooooh, it feels slippy! And sticky!”

Plastic rolls from side to side and round and round in the polish, coating the pink vinyl with gold. “Look at me!” she squeals, twisting herself in circles to create a spiral pattern in glitter. “I’m painting! I’m painting with no hands!”

Her painting is so swirly and goldy gold. Plastic hops off the box to let the others see what she’s done, and rolls joyfully around on the rug, thinking only about gold and what a happy bright color it is.

“Don’t come so close to me,” snaps StingRay. “I’m dry clean only.”

Plastic stops rolling.

“Uh-oh.” Lumphy looks at Plastic and shakes his head.

“What?”

Lumphy coughs. “You’re gold.”

“I am?”

“And the carpet. It’s gold, too.”

Plastic looks around. Lumphy is right. She has left a sticky path of glitter gold everywhere she rolled.

“It doesn’t come off,” scolds Lumphy. “Weren’t you listening when I explained?”

No. Plastic had been in the bathroom when he explained.

Oh no no no—Plastic has been so naughty! She has never been naughty like this before. What to do, what to do?

Before she has time to think, before anyone has time to think, the toys hear a key in the door.

The people are home early.

Rumpa lumpa

Rumpa lumpa

Frrrrrr, frrrrrr.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

Lumphy, StingRay, and Spark hide beneath the high bed, tipping over two jars of polish as they run. But Plastic is scared to move. If she rolls or bounces, she’ll track nail color on even more of Honey’s carpet. What to do, what to do?

The parents come upstairs. The mother stops short when she sees the mess. “Honey?” she calls in a strained voice. “Can you come here now, please?”

The dad scratches his neck and speaks in a low, angry voice. “Look what she did to her rubber ball. And to the sheep. And the rug.”

“And all that nail polish she just got,” the mom adds. “And her Barbie box.”

Honey enters the room and catches sight of Plastic, covered with glitter gold. And Sheep, asleep in a puddle of Spark’s green polish. She walks over and looks at the Barbie box, painted with a curious mix of ugly, angry scribbles and beautiful art.

Honey knows the toys have done it. Plastic can tell from her expression.

They have never done anything this bad before. Nothing that would get Honey in trouble.

Will she know why they did it? Will she be angry?

She pulls Plastic off the sticky carpet. She begins to lift Sheep, too, but as she does there is a ripping noise.

The noise of a felt ear—the only ear Sheep has left—tearing.

Part of Sheep’s ear is stuck to the carpet with nail polish.

Honey’s hand stops for a moment, but there is no other way to move Sheep. Gently, she rips the ear the rest of the way and holds the wounded Sheep in her arms. “I’m sorry,” she says to her mom and dad. “It was a bad idea and I should have cleaned it up. I was careless.”

Plastic nearly twitches with surprise and relief. Honey squeezes her.

“I’ll clean off all my toys, and buy you new remover with my allowance,” continues Honey. “I’ll try to clean the carpet, too.”

The mother shakes her head, still angry.

“It’s a start,” says the dad.

. . . . .

Honey takes Plastic, Sheep, and the Barbie box to the bathroom, where she rubs polish remover on Sheep’s matted wool. Some of the polish comes off, but Sheep will be forever green around the left side of her neck and head. Her hearing—though not gone—will be worse than before. Honey puts a Band-Aid on the ear nub. She dabs Plastic with remover, then rinses the ball under the tap and dries her with TukTuk. The clumps of polish come off pretty easily, but it looks as though Plastic will remain shimmery, with a slight residue of glitter gold.

Plastic doesn’t mind. Honey doesn’t seem mad at all. She’s taking care of them! She even squeezed Plastic in an understanding way. Besides, Plastic thinks, the glittery goldy gold looks very good.

When Plastic and Sheep are as clean as they can get, Honey looks at the paintings on the Barbie box. She tries to open it.

It won’t open.

Honey runs a cotton ball dipped in remover along the edges, but Spark has put so much sticky green along her side of the box, and Lumphy so much red on his, that the lid won’t separate from the bottom.

The Barbies are still inside.

Honey tugs and pulls—but the box won’t open.

The Barbies will probably have to stay in there for a very, very long time, together with all their clothes.

Honey carries Plastic and Sheep and the ruined Barbie box into the bedroom, where she places the box on top of the bookshelf so everyone can see it. She finds Lumphy, StingRay, and Spark under the bed and sets them together on the fringed pillows.

Lumphy’s stomach feels awful, and StingRay’s body is tight with anxiety. They peek at Spark, but it is impossible to tell what the shark is thinking.

Will Honey yell at them and give them time-outs in a bucket in the hallway? StingRay wonders.

Or send them off to the zoo to be teased by the real live animals?

Or leave them at the dump because she doesn’t love them anymore?

“You sweetie guys,” Honey announces. “This is the best present I ever got.”

“We’re not in trouble!” Plastic whispers to her friends.

“Even though you made a mess, and Sheep’s ear got hurt,” Honey continues, “I know you meant for it to be a surprise. The picture of StingRay is just the right blue, huh? And blue is the best color.” She smiles at StingRay. “And here are the golden swirls, and these pretty flowers, and the greeny grass on the other side. You guys are big big sweeties to make this.”

Spark’s top fin twitches ever so slightly in annoyance.

Honey pats Sheep and strokes StingRay’s tail. “I know I haven’t played with you much lately.” She pets Lumphy’s woolly back. “But I love you. And I will always keep you,” she swears. “StingRay, Plastic, and Lumphy. Sheep and DaisySparkle. Even Highlander and the mice. I’ll keep all of you, forever.”

. . . . .

“What did I tell you?” grumps Spark as soon as Honey has gone downstairs for dinner. “Un. Ob. Ser. Vant.”

“We’re not in trouble!” says Plastic, rolling a circle around her friends. “She loves us forever and she didn’t mind that we were naughty!”

“She didn’t even know we were naughty,” says Spark. “She missed the entire point.”

Lumphy sniffs. “She thought it was a present. It was the opposite of a present.”

“Exactly.” The shark twitches her tail and mutters: “Greeny grass. Hmph.”

StingRay eyes the Barbie box. “It’s stuck shut, isn’t it?” she says, wonderingly. “They’re not coming out again.”