The Collector

by KR Alexander

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I said, way too late for it to be convincing.

  Concern crossed Vanessa’s face. When I realized why, I felt terrible.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s not really nice to look at. My aunt hasn’t been able to work because of her knee, and my uncle died a few years ago. I’m really the only one keeping the house running.” She bit her lip and looked sad, kicked a rock at her feet. “I completely understand if you don’t want to hang out here. I can walk you home now.” Her voice wavered a bit. I wondered how many potential friends she’d taken here, only to get rejected.

  Maybe that’s why kids told me to stay away from her—they probably thought she was a bad person because she lived in a house like this.

  I wasn’t about to let their meanness get in the way, nor was I going to let Vanessa feel bad about her house. That wasn’t what was important.

  What was important was that I’d seen it in my nightmare, but there was no way I’d be able to explain that. She’d think I was crazy.

  “No, please,” I said. “I don’t want to go home yet. I just … well, it’s very … unique. I was surprised.”

  Vanessa perked up a little bit. But there were still tears in the corner of her eyes.

  “That’s a good word for it. I’ll be the first to admit the place is a bit weird. Especially on the inside. My aunt is quite a collector.”

  This was the last possible point that Anna and I could have turned back.

  But when Vanessa said, “Come on” … we went.

  Vanessa hadn’t been lying about one thing: Her aunt was definitely a collector of strange objects.

  Getting closer, I saw that besides the old mannequins and broken-down baby carriages (complete with baby dolls with spiders living in their eyes), the birdbaths had piles of doll heads covered in moss. I tried not to look too closely as Vanessa led us up her overgrown path toward the house, but it was impossible not to stare. The whole place smelled like wet earth and leaves, and it was definitely colder … but maybe it was just because the trees leaned in here, making the whole place shaded and eerily quiet.

  I kept trying to tell myself that I hadn’t actually seen this place in my dreams. It was some weird déjà vu or something.

  Then Anna stopped and whispered in my ear, “I don’t want to go in there.”

  “It’s okay,” I replied. “She’s our friend. It’s just a strange house and we don’t want to be rude.”

  Anna seemed like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t get the chance.

  Vanessa unlocked the front door and opened it, and rather than a creepy life-size doll staring out there was just the scent of cinnamon and baking cookies. The hallway inside looked warm and bright and completely normal. Just like any other house. Anna clung to my arm tightly in spite of how welcoming the place looked.

  For a moment, I was reminded of “Hansel and Gretel”—this place didn’t look like a gingerbread house built by a witch, but it sure smelled like cookies meant to lure in small children.

  “Come on in!” Vanessa said. “But please take your shoes off at the door.”

  I couldn’t imagine an evil witch asking kids to take off their shoes. My imagination was just running full speed. Vanessa was just a girl and this was just a quirky house.

  We went in and took off our shoes. Vanessa closed the door behind us. I got a small bit of relief from noting that she didn’t lock it, but that relief was short-lived. Because next I noticed the dolls.

  They were everywhere.

  Dolls the size of my hand and dolls as big as me. Every shape and color and size, wearing every type of clothing you could imagine. There were dolls in dresses and dolls in overalls, dolls with long hair or short hair or no hair at all.

  Hundreds and hundreds of dolls.

  I couldn’t see their faces, though. Because every doll was facing the wall.

  Every. Single. One.

  Anna wouldn’t budge from the doorway. I didn’t move either. I could see into the rooms just off the hall, and they were filled with dolls, too.

  “Oh,” Vanessa said, noticing our hesitation. She had been heading down the hall like it was the most normal place in the world. But when she stopped to look back, she fingered her locket and bit her lip. “Yeah. I guess I should have mentioned those.”

  She walked up to a doll and touched its head. She almost looked a little sad.

  “My aunt’s been collecting these ever since she was a little girl. She has too many to count.” She laughed slightly. “I tried getting her to sell them a few times, but she loves them like they’re her children. Dusting is a nightmare. They … they take some getting used to.”

  “I guess you did say she was a collector.”

  “You have no idea,” she replied.

  “Why are they looking away?” Anna asked. Her voice was a whimper.

  “That was my doing,” Vanessa said. She giggled a little. “I moved in a few years ago, and they really creeped me out. I asked her to hide them, but she said she liked having them on display. But she said I could turn them around so they weren’t always looking at me. So many eyes …” She shivered theatrically and then smiled. “Come on. I think my aunt made cookies! And there aren’t nearly as many dolls in the kitchen.”

  Reluctantly, Anna and I followed her in.

  It was almost worse walking down the hall and having all the dolls facing away. Like they were scared or ashamed or in time-out. I kept waiting for one to turn around and glare at us. Anna clutched my arm so tight I hoped she didn’t leave a bruise. She was probably wishing she hadn’t come along. Even with the promise of internet.

  At least the kitchen wasn’t as cluttered with dolls. There were a few on a spice rack, and one sitting inside a hanging saucepan, and a couple on the fridge (which was covered in old doll-shaped magnets). Compared to the hallway and the rooms I’d glanced at in between, the kitchen looked pretty normal. The appliances were fairly new and the counters were cleared. No clutter. In fact, save for the dolls, everything in the house seemed to be pretty organized. I guess, in their own way, the dolls were organized, too.

  And, as the smell promised, a plate of chocolate chip cookies was laid out on the kitchen table.

  “Would you like milk with your cookies?” Vanessa asked.

  She ducked into the fridge as she spoke—the inside was also fully stocked. Okay, minus the dolls, I guessed the place wasn’t that strange. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. I’d had a friend in elementary school whose parents collected lawn flamingos, inside and out. I told myself this was about as weird. Nothing to be worried about.

  “Yes, please,” Anna said. She seemed to have already forgotten about the dolls—she had a cookie in hand and was sitting at the kitchen table, eating away happily.

  I asked for a glass as well and sat next to Anna.

  “Where’s your aunt?” I asked.

  Vanessa paused for a moment.

  “She must be asleep.” Her eyes glanced at a closed door off the kitchen as she poured us milk. “Her new medication tires her out. I bet she got exhausted after making us cookies. I told her you were coming over.”

  I immediately felt guilty that her aunt had made herself tired just so we could have cookies. Even though they were a little burnt, I didn’t say anything. I ate three. I didn’t want her aunt to feel worse if she came back to a full plate.

  We sat around and talked for a while. Vanessa asked Anna all about her classes and teachers, the friends she was making, and what she thought of the school and the town. I was used to Anna being quiet around people—strangers and my friends, especially—but she was so talkative with Vanessa that it almost felt like listening to a different person. Anna even started telling Vanessa things she hadn’t told me yet, like the names of the kids who were mean to her and which teachers she thought smelled bad.

  “Do you like living with your grandmother?” Vanessa asked.

  “She makes us follow these weird rules,” Anna said. She didn’t even lower her voice.
“Like we can’t leave the windows open at night. But that’s okay. There are bad things out in the woods. That’s one of the rules, too. We can’t go in the woods.” She looked outside. “I guess we broke that rule, though.”

  “Anna,” I said warningly. I glared at her; she was too far away to kick under the table. Though it was too late now.

  “It’s okay,” Vanessa said. “Everyone has different rules. And your grandma is right—the woods can be dangerous if you go out alone. But there haven’t been any bears or anything like that for … well, forever, I think. I’ve never seen any.”

  “It’s not bears,” Anna said despite my warning glares. “It’s monsters.”

  That made Vanessa laugh. I looked at her, suddenly wondering if she was making fun of us or thought we were stupid, but it didn’t seem like it. If anything, she seemed to take my sister seriously.

  “What sort of monsters?” Vanessa asked, all smiles gone.

  “I don’t know,” Anna said. “But I hear them at night. They give me bad dreams. One time, I dreamed about—”

  Crash!

  Anna and Vanessa both jumped. I pretended to as well.

  What they didn’t know was that I’d intentionally pushed my glass of milk off the table. It had shattered on the floor, spilling milk everywhere.

  I felt bad for breaking a glass and making a mess. But I would have felt much, much worse if Anna had given our dreams away. Vanessa was my friend, so it should have meant I could trust her with anything. But my dreams were a line I didn’t want to cross with anyone.

  “I’m so sorry!” I said as I hopped off my stool. “It was an accident.”

  “It’s okay!” Vanessa replied. She went and got some paper towels and a broom. I helped her clean it up, being very careful not to get cut on the glass. “It happens all the time.”

  When she went to the back porch to throw the glass in a trash can, I went over and whispered into Anna’s ear.

  “Don’t you dare tell her about our dreams!”

  “Why not?” she asked, clearly confused and a little hurt. “She’s our friend.”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you should tell her everything.”

  “Why—”

  Vanessa came back in then, and I shot Anna another glare before going back to mopping up the spilled milk. Hopefully she would listen. If not, she definitely wasn’t staying in my room again.

  “Would you like another glass?” Vanessa asked.

  “No,” I replied. “That’s okay. We should probably get going. Mom wanted us back for dinner.”

  That was another small lie. Mom wanted us back before dark, but that wouldn’t be for a few more hours. I just didn’t want to wait around on the chance that Anna would say something I’d regret. Next time, I was going to be coming here without her.

  “Aww,” Anna whined. “I haven’t even gotten to use the internet!”

  “Next time,” I replied. I tried to smile warmly at Vanessa. It was hard; I knew if I dragged this out, Anna would really start protesting. “We don’t want to wear out our welcome.”

  It was something I’d heard my mom say many times, when she wanted to leave but didn’t want to be impolite.

  “You aren’t,” Vanessa said. She sighed, and for some reason that made her look sadder than she should have been. “I don’t get friends over very often.”

  It made me feel really bad for her. Being unique also often meant being lonely.

  “I’ll definitely be back over,” I assured her. I was very careful not to say we so Anna wouldn’t say I was lying later. “Our mom just gets a little nervous when we’re in new places, so I don’t want her freaking out now.”

  Which was true. Back in Chicago, it had taken her a good month to be comfortable with me staying over at my friends’ places for more than an hour. And that was after she got to meet their parents. I wondered if Vanessa’s aunt would be well enough to meet my mom soon. This place was creepy, but it was at least a little better than inviting her over to mine.

  I didn’t want to have to introduce her to my grandmother—after Anna’s blabbing, I was almost embarrassed.

  “Before you go …” Vanessa said. She didn’t complete her thought, just skipped out of the room.

  “I don’t want to go yet,” Anna said, frowning at me.

  “I’m your older sister,” I replied. “And I say it’s time to go home.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but Vanessa was back then. She had something hidden behind her back.

  “This is for you, Anna,” Vanessa said. “I’ve had it since I was your age.”

  She revealed the hidden gift. My heart dropped when I saw it.

  It was a tiny porcelain doll, old and wearing a faded sun dress. It was very creepy—and there was no way Grandma Jeannie would allow it in the house.

  “I don’t think I can,” Anna said, looking at me for reassurance.

  “It’s okay,” Vanessa said. “You can give her back in a few weeks if you’d like. She’s a very special doll—she keeps bad dreams away.”

  I was torn. I knew that we couldn’t bring the doll back—it was against Grandma Jeannie’s very strange rules. But I also knew that it would be rude to decline, and that having the doll would mean Anna wouldn’t want to stay in my room anymore. It would be nice to sleep on my own. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had real privacy. And maybe, if I could get over the embarrassment, it meant the potential to have Vanessa over for slumber parties.

  Anna didn’t answer. She kept looking at me for guidance.

  “That’s a really nice gift,” I said. I went over and took the doll, examining it. It was even creepier up close—one of its painted eyes was smudged, and its smile looked … well, evil. One corner was twisted up, almost in a sneer.

  If it helped Anna sleep, though, it was worth it.

  “I think it’s very nice of Vanessa to let you borrow it,” I said, handing it to Anna.

  “But Grandma—”

  “Grandma Jeannie will understand. She doesn’t want you having nightmares either.”

  I thought of her standing on the porch yesterday afternoon, muttering what I thought must have been a spell or gibberish. It seemed like Grandma Jeannie was trying very hard to keep us from having nightmares.

  But that was just silly. Grandma wasn’t a witch, and the doll wasn’t magic—it was just something to convince Anna that she wasn’t having bad dreams, even though it wasn’t actually doing anything.

  “Thank you,” Anna said. She took the doll and hugged it close.

  “Okay, we better go. It’s probably a long walk back.”

  Vanessa shook her head and smiled, then pointed to the woods we could see through the backyard.

  “It’s not a long walk at all. Your grandmother’s house is right through there. We’re neighbors.”

  It felt like my heart stopped and everything went cold.

  We weren’t just in the woods.

  We were in the woods behind Grandma Jeannie’s house.

  We were where Beryl lived.

  When my heart starting beating again, it was hammering like a drum.

  “What did you say your aunt’s name was again?” I asked.

  “Oh, I didn’t. Her name is Tilda Morgenstern. I call her Auntie T.”

  I sighed in relief. It wasn’t Beryl. We were safe.

  Vanessa didn’t notice my reaction—she was already at the front door, putting her shoes on. Anna cast me a wide-eyed gaze. She also knew we weren’t supposed to be here. These woods were dangerous. And Anna had a doll. Two strikes against us.

  “There’s a shortcut between our houses,” Vanessa said. “It goes right through the woods—we can be there in five minutes.”

  “No!” I said a little too loudly. I looked at Anna. “Sorry. I mean, I think we’d rather take the long way.” I tried to think fast. “My mom said it was tick season.”

  Vanessa smiled.

  “City people,” she said. But unlike when the kids at school said it,
she didn’t sound rude. I could tell she was just joking. “Okay then, the long way it is. I’ll walk with you. I don’t want you getting lost.” She made spooky hand gestures. “The woods can be a scary place.”

  Then she giggled and patted Anna on the shoulder. I tried to chuckle, too, but I couldn’t. A part of me felt silly for being scared of the woods and believing Grandma Jeannie. Another part of me felt I should be taking this more seriously.

  I decided that taking Grandma Jeannie seriously would mean losing Vanessa as a friend, and right now I needed a friend more than I needed to follow Grandma’s rules.

  Anna and I were going to have a lot of secrets to keep.

  It took about twenty minutes for us to get back home. Once we left the grove where Vanessa lived, the path opened up and was sunny again. It was easy to forget that we were apparently in dangerous territory. Or at least in territory my grandmother thought was dangerous. Now that it was daylight, I couldn’t figure out why I’d allowed myself to be scared of these woods. It was just trees and birds and sunshine.

  Maybe I wouldn’t follow Grandma Jeannie’s rules too closely. Especially if we were going to be living with her for a long time.

  I did make sure that Anna hid the doll in her backpack the moment we got to the main path. I didn’t want to risk Grandma Jeannie’s anger, and who knew if Mom would be driving past? It wouldn’t surprise me if Mom was driving around looking for us—or, as she would put it, “keeping an eye out.”

  We didn’t see her, though, and Vanessa dropped us off just before the winding drive leading to Grandma’s house.

  “Do you want to come in?” Anna asked.

  “No, thanks,” Vanessa replied warmly. “I need to get back and make dinner for my aunt. I’ll see you at school tomorrow! And sweet dreams tonight, Anna.”

  She winked at me in a way that seemed to say, Hopefully now you’ll get a full night’s sleep. I hoped so, too.

  We watched her walk back the long way. I wondered what the path through the woods was like—if it was anything at all like the one from my dreams—and if I’d ever feel brave enough to take it.

  “Don’t tell anyone about the doll,” I told Anna the moment Vanessa was far enough away. “And definitely don’t say we were in the woods.”