Emily Jenkins: Toy Dance Party

“Not for a good long while, anyway,” says Spark. “At least we got that done.”

“She loves us all!” cries Plastic.

“It’s true,” says StingRay, swishing her tail thoughtfully. “She did say that. But it still feels like not as much. Like she loves us—but not as much as she used to.”

“But forever!” says Plastic.

“Yes,” says StingRay. “Forever but not as much.”

. . . . .

That night, after Honey has gone to sleep, Sheep has a tearless cry over her lost ear. And her green face. And Honey growing up. It is the first time in her long sheep-y life that she has ever cried. The sobs sound like this: “Herffle, herffle. Herffle, herffle.”

Plastic feels sorry for Sheep, she really does, but it is hard for her to keep still and act sympathetic. Every few minutes she rolls down the hall to bounce in front of the bathroom mirror, admiring her beautiful new sheen. “I’m a gold ball, a gold ball!” she whispers to her reflection.

Lumphy understands how Sheep feels about her ear. He lost his tail a long time ago. Sometimes he still misses it. He nuzzles Sheep’s face.

“Herffle, herffle. Herffle, herffle,” she sobs.

Lumphy keeps nuzzling, but the herffles keep herffling.

“Should I tell a story?” asks StingRay. She lay down with Honey at eight-thirty, but after the events of the day found it impossible to fall asleep. Now she is on the carpet, worrying about her wounded friend. “Would it help to hear a story, so you can think about something else?”

Sheep nods.

StingRay taps her flippers for attention. Spark and the toy mice scootch across the carpet to listen.

StingRay thinks how nice it is to feel important and helpful. She is such a considerate and special stingray!

She is about to launch into the tale of Princess DaisySparkle and the fairy treasure when she looks down at her friends and remembers: that is not Sheep’s favorite story.

It is not Lumphy’s, either.

The toy mice aren’t very interested, and Spark positively dislikes it.

It is only StingRay’s favorite story.

StingRay really does want to tell it, though.

And StingRay thinks the things that Sheep likes—are boring. It would be so much more interesting to tell about DaisySparkle.

“Herffle, herffle. Herffle, herffle,” goes Sheep.

StingRay makes a decision. “Once upon a time, there was a meadow,” she says loudly, making sure that Sheep can hear. “A wide grassy meadow with lots of juicy green clover.

Clover so bright it almost glowed.

There were goats and sheep and rabbits,

all living in the meadow.

The rabbits ate the clover,

and the goats ate the clover,

and do you know who else ate the clover?

The sheep! They ate as much clover

as ever they wanted, each day.

They ate grass, and there were, like,

four different kinds.

The sheep ate these, and when they wanted

dessert,

there were pretty flowers in the meadow

that were also good to eat.”

StingRay talks into the night, boring but pretty stuff about greenery and chewing. As she talks, Sheep gradually stops herffling.

Highlander pricks his ears. Bonkers squirms and occasionally bites his own tail, while Brownie falls asleep on top of Millie and Rocky. Spark chews on a puzzle piece while she listens. Plastic, feeling gorgeous, rolls back into the bedroom and leans herself against Lumphy.

StingRay makes up stories, and she can tell it is helping.

The stars twinkle outside the window, and the toys cuddle up.

Everything is good again, because they are together.

A Note on the Textual References

The book about the mouse in the dungeon is The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo. The TV show about the children who drink pink milk is Charlie & Lola, adapted from the picture books by Lauren Child: I Will Never Not Ever Eat a Tomato, I Am Too Absolutely Small for School, etc. The movie entitled The Fairy Treasure does not exist.

As Spark points out, Lumphy is an American buffalo, which is to say, he is technically a bison. American buffalo are not true buffalo (like the water buffalo of Asia or the cape buffalo of Africa—to whom they are only distantly related). Instead, they are most closely related to the European bison, and the species to which they belong is bison. However, Lumphy himself knows nothing about any of this.

“Love Train” is the 1973 hit by the O’Jays. I chose it as Frank’s favorite song from the radio because I thought it would sound good in Frank’s voice and because children I know enjoy it.

The nature documentaries described are imaginary, and the “facts” about great white sharks spurious. Likewise, the information about cheese.

Acknowledgments

Thank you, first, to all the children who wrote to me asking for a sequel to Toys Go Out, many of you sending paintings and drawings of the characters. I have loved getting your mail, and it inspired me as I worked on Toy Dance Party.

Thank you to Ivy for listening to lots of early drafts, inviting me to spontaneous dance parties, and giving me the idea of naming a rubber shark after a princess. Thanks to Daniel for asking if the washing machine talked, back when I was writing the first book—and for the rubber shark itself. And for being so patient when I had to write on our long-awaited vacation.

Griffin was the first person to shove garbage into our rubber shark, and I appreciate his ingenuity. Errolyn allowed her toy buffalo to be photographed for my school visits, and Heather took the picture. John and Maureen, my writing companions, helped me think of disgusting ingredients for pink milk. Scott was not there on the pink milk day, but he kept me on track by writing next to me as well, while Libba did the same during final revisions.

My debt and admiration to the incomparable Paul O. Zelinsky for his art, advice, and enthusiasm. And for naming Spark, after I came up with DaisySparkle.

Enormous gratitude to Anne Schwartz for saying she’d publish a sequel if I wrote one, for editing me with a keen eye, and for waiting very patiently for me to be done with other stuff. I couldn’t ask for better publishers than Anne and Lee Wade. Thanks also to Annie Kelly, Rachael Cole, Emily Seife, Adrienne Weintraub, Chip Gibson, Lisa Nadel, Lisa McClatchy, and Kathleen Grigo—plus everyone else who has worked so hard on my books at Random House.