Emily Jenkins - Toy Dance Party

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2008 by Emily Jenkins

Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Paul O. Zelinsky

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Schwartz & Wade Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 2008.

Yearling and the jumping horse design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition of this work as follows:

Jenkins, Emily.

Toy dance party : being the further adventures of a bossyboots Stingray, a courageous Buffalo, and a hopeful round someone called Plastic / Emily Jenkins; illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky.

p. cm.

Summary: Six stories relate further adventures of three best friends, who happen to be toys, as they encounter a fearsome (possible) shark, enjoy a dance party, and deal with rejection by The Girl, who is growing up.

Contents: The toys are left in — In which there are wonderful costumes and violence occurs — The garbage-eating shark (which is not the same as the possible shark) — Concerning that plump mouse Bonkers, the vacuum cleaner, and a friendship between fish — In which there is a sleepover and somebody needs repair — Let’s do our nails.

eISBN: 978-0-375-98280-4

[1. Toys—Fiction. 2. Best friends—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction. 4. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction.] I. Zelinsky, Paul O., ill. II. Title.

PZ7.J4134Tov 2008

[E]—dc22

2007044112

First Yearling Edition

Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

v3.1

In loving memory of Joan R. Carey

—E.J.

In memory of Bernie, whose wife loves toys

—P.Z.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

THE TOYS ARE LEFT IN

IN WHICH THERE ARE WONDERFUL COSTUMES AND VIOLENCE OCCURS

THE GARBAGE-EATING SHARK (WHICH IS NOT THE SAME AS THE POSSIBLE SHARK)

CONCERNING THAT PLUMP MOUSE BONKERS, THE VACUUM CLEANER, AND A FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN FISH

IN WHICH THERE IS A SLEEPOVER AND SOMEBODY NEEDS REPAIR

LET’S DO OUR NAILS

A Note on the Textual References

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

The Toys Are Left In

Lumphy, the stuffed buffalo, did not go with the Girl on winter vacation.

StingRay did not go, either. She thought she would. The Girl even told her she would, because she and StingRay sleep together, every single night, on the high bed with the fluffy pillows. But in the end, when the suitcases were packed and the car loaded, the Girl and her parents drove away—and StingRay was left behind.

Plastic, being only a ball, had not expected to go on the trip. No one plays with balls in snowy weather. She is here with StingRay and Lumphy in the empty house, finding it strange to have days go by without the good-natured ruckus of the people who live there. No alarm clocks, no morning bustle, no baths, no cooking smells. No laughter, no arguments, no stories read aloud.

The house is cold.

For several days—they are not sure how many—Lumphy, StingRay, and Plastic play checkers and Hungry Hungry Hippos with the toy mice and the one-eared sheep. They chat with the rocking horse in the corner and with TukTuk, the old yellow towel in the hallway bathroom. They watch television. But the hours go by much more slowly than usual. There is always the feeling of someone missing. The Girl they love.

“When is she coming back, again?” Plastic wonders one afternoon. She and Lumphy are on the windowsill, downstairs in the living room. Lumphy is watching the snow falling outside, and Plastic has been reading a book about cheese—kinds of cheese, where it comes from, and how it’s made. She is flipping the pages herself with a rolling technique she’s invented.

“The Saturday before school starts again, is what they said,” Lumphy answers. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how the Girl isn’t here.

“What Saturday is that?” Plastic asks.

“I don’t know. A week is how long they’ll be gone.”

“But how long is a week?” Plastic persists.

“StingRay says five days.”

“What day is it now?” wonders Plastic. “Is it Tuesday? I think it’s maybe Tuesday.” She rocks anxiously from side to side.

“Urmph,” mumbles Lumphy. He is counting in his head.

“What are the days besides Tuesday, anyhow?” continues Plastic. “Does it go Onesday, Tuesday, Threesday, Foursday?”

“I think they have already been gone more than five days,” announces Lumphy.

“You mean we already had Tuesday?”

“I mean we already had Saturday, ” says Lumphy. “I mean, the week is up.”

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

They are interrupted.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

StingRay is falling down the stairs. Flipper over plush flipper, bouncing first off the wall, then off the posts beneath the banister.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a. And then eventually: Bonk!

She lands at the bottom.

Lumphy climbs gingerly off the windowsill while Plastic bounces over to StingRay. “Are you okay?”

StingRay is lying on her back, and her head hurts where she banged it on a post, but she quickly turns over on her tummy and brushes her eye with her left flipper. “What do you mean?”

“You fell down the stairs.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I come down that way all the time on purpose.” StingRay changes the subject. “What have you been doing?”

“I was reading!” Plastic tells her. “Did you know cheese is made in caves? Because it is! You put milk in a cave and out comes cheese!”

“Of course I knew that,” says StingRay, although she didn’t. “Listen. Do you know where the playing cards are? I can’t find them anywhere and I want to play Fish.”

Plastic and Lumphy agree to help look for the cards. They search the downstairs, checking bookshelves and the drawers of the coffee table—but the cards are not there. They go upstairs: Lumphy climbing, StingRay lurching up each step with a strong push of her tail, and Plastic bouncing easily, five stairs at a time.

They look through the Girl’s bedroom again. Search under the high bed. Look behind the box that holds the board games.

Then they realize: the Girl has packed the cards. She has taken them with her on vacation, where she has not taken Lumphy, or Plastic, or StingRay.

“What else has she packed?” cries StingRay, frantic. She flops herself across the bedroom carpet. “Did she pack that book about the mouse in the dungeon?”