Puppet

by Ed Kightlinger

  Oh, my God, no! Semitransparent plastic has replaced my skin! What is worse, I am hanging by strands of twine that disappear into the sky! My feet aren’t touching the ground! Something has turned me into a marionette puppet!

  At that very moment, Chloe feels a blast of air as the speeding truck draws within inches of her immovable body. She quickly closes her eyes and holds her breath with dire anticipation.

  Is this how it feels to be run over by a truck? If it is, the end is not as bad as I would have thought. Quite honestly, I expected it to be much worse, dreadfully worse. It doesn’t even hurt! My goodness! What has happened to me? She reopens her eyes and stares bewildered.

  Something is propelling her suspended body to move from the middle of Leroy Avenue toward the sidewalk. Within a few seconds, she is in front of Cheaply’s Food Shop. She gawps with disbelief at her double reflected in the glass door. The image she is looking at is plastic!

  Chloe’s spitting image has piercing, bright red eyes. Dark, hideous-looking, charcoal black circles surround the scary eyes. Long, frightful crevasses are oozing blackish blood on the image’s gruesomely terrifying face. It is where the boneless fingers had scored her face when she was in bed. A menacing scowl is on her reflection’s surly, gloomy lips. The tendrils of light brown hair on either side of its head above the ears resemble disheveled, uncombed strands of twine. The remainder of its head is completely bald! An ugly, black broach in the shape of a gruesome skull is hanging from a thick chain around its neck.

  Chloe tries to scream. Instead, the only sound that she hears is a familiar, comforting voice calling her name. The sound seems to come from a distant dream. She quickly departs Limbo Land into the world of wide-awake as her eyes snap wide-open. She anxiously looks around her bedroom. She reaches to her nightstand and grabs her iPhone to check the time.

  She sighs with relief as she notices soft human skin is covering her hand.

  Thankfully, the strands of puppety twine are no more.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE CHAOS BEGINS

  “Just about everyone has a coil of twine given to them by Puppet.”

  Part I: Anarchy in the Cafeteria

  “I’m sorry, but you cannot have it!” Brenae says in a stubborn tone of voice. “Strawberry is my favorite flavor, and I’m going to buy it.”

  Brenae is a petite, lovely, easygoing teenager. She has soft, light brown, curly hair that gracefully falls on top of her shoulders. Her eyes are light blue. Even though she is a bit irritated at the moment, she is smiling. Her attractive smile is but one of her many striking features.

  The teenager standing next to her has sandy-hair and mysterious, dark blue eyes. He looks in the freezer. It contains the assorted flavors of Peters Dixie Cup ice cream. He thrusts his hands deep into the compartment as he rudely rummages among the frozen treats. He pulls out a half-dozen of the cups and tosses them onto the floor. He stares at the cup of ice cream sitting on Brenae’s tray.

  He yells in a high-pitched voice, “It’s the last one, and I want it!”

  Brenae says in a calm tone, “Okay, seeing that it is the last one you can have mine. I will get another flavor.”

  She sets her cup of ice cream onto the boy’s tray. She bends over and picks up two cups that the whining, nasty-tempered boy had thrown to the floor. She places one of the cups onto her tray. She tosses the other cup into the freezer.

  “I will eat vanilla. It is extremely bland, but it is better than nothing.” She glares at the boy. “You had better pick up the rest of the cups you tossed onto the floor, or you are going to be in trouble.” She looks the boy up and down suspiciously. “I have never seen you before today. You must be new.”

  The boy glares at Brenae. “Who says I am going to be in trouble?”

  Brenae gestures behind her.

  “Today’s cafeteria monitor, that’s who. Her name is Chloe Brown. She is a good friend of mine. Some of the kids in school call her Alex. It is short for Alexandria, her middle name. I do not call her that. I have a special, kind nickname for her. So do most of the other kids in school, at least those who recognize true talent on the volleyball court when they see it.”

  “Oh, really?” the boy stammers mockingly. “What am I supposed to do about Miss Chloe Alexandria Brown, today’s cafeteria monitor? Worry?” He rolls his eyes as he pretends to shudder. “I ain’t gonna.”

  As Brenae slides her food tray along the serving counter toward the cash register, she says, “In any case, she is doing her job. No one likes to be a cafeteria monitor. Trying to keep your classmates in line and ratting on them when they do nasty things isn’t anyone’s favorite pastime. I know from personal experience. What’s your name? As I said, I haven’t seen you in school before today. Are you new?”

  “Ain’t no business of yours,” the boy sneers. “Then again, I want you to watch this!”

  The boy reaches deep into the ice cream freezer and pulls out handfuls after handfuls of ice cream cups and tosses them onto the floor. Then he begins to stomp on them one at a time. Chocolate and vanilla ice cream splash everywhere including onto Brenae’s tennis shoes.

  Brenae hastily picks up her tray from the counter and hurries a half-dozen feet to her left to get away from the unpredictable boy. She sets her tray onto the condiment counter. She screams, “What in the world are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  The boy rolls his eyes once more and sticks out his tongue at Brenae. He yells at the top of his lungs, “You think I am crazy, eh?” As he stomps on two more ice cream cups, he screams, “That is nothing. Watch this!”

  He reaches with his hand to the tray of the boy who is following him in line. He grabs a handful of spaghetti and meatballs, turns entirely around, and then he heaves it across the serving line railing. A dollop of spaghetti and meatballs hits the back of the head of a boy who is chatting away with his friends. The boy immediately scrambles from his chair. Strands of spaghetti are dripping onto the back of his Claymore High t-shirt. He turns around and stares at the students that are in the serving line.

  “Who threw that?” the boy demands crossly.

  “I did!” screams the boy that threw the handful of spaghetti and meatballs. “Moreover, that ain’t nothing. Watch this!”

  The boy reaches up to the serving counter and grabs a full bottle of ketchup. He jumps over the three-foot-high railing that separates the serving line from the rest of the cafeteria. He races back and forth across the cafeteria as he squirts thin streams of ketchup onto the back of the heads of unsuspecting students. The boy occasionally stops long enough to grab trays of food and overturns their contents onto students’ heads. He even grabs gobs of spaghetti and meatballs, hamburgers and fries, veggies, and cups of half-eaten ice cream and sliced fruits from trays and throws them at students.

  A food fight commences in no time. Fistfuls of spaghetti and meatballs begin to fly across the cafeteria. Hamburgers, fries, and vegetables of every sort soar across the cafeteria as well. Soon, mixed desserts join in the fray. Cups of sliced peaches, applesauce, and softened ice cream fly across the cafeteria splattering the students and the walls with their sticky, multicolored mess.

  Chloe is on the in-house phone in no time. She pushes the number one. Number one rings the in-house phone at the desk of the principal’s secretary, Missus Kimberly Marie Bell.

  Missus Bell is an outgoing, friendly faculty member who is admired by the students. She always greets the students with a genuine smile when she passes them in the corridors. When students report to the principal’s office, she goes out of her way to ease their nervousness. There is nothing worse than anxiously sitting outside the principal’s office while a grumpy secretary glares at you over her spectacles and sizes you up and down. Gratefully, Missus Bell’s affable character does not typify students’ judgment of what they presume is a “typical” principal’s secretary. Besides, she has a heart of gold and an infectious, welcoming smile that immediately puts students at ease. What's more, she has a quart-sized
jar of delicious, multi-flavored gummy bears on her desk that she willingly offers to students.

  “Missus Bell, it’s me, Chloe Brown, today’s cafeteria monitor. There is a food fight in the cafeteria!”

  “How bad is it?” Missus Bell asks casually.

  “Pretty bad,” Chloe replies. “It is a mess in here, and it is just getting started! Please hurry and send someone. I do not want the food fight to become worse!” She pauses, and then she says, “Or a fistfight begins!”

  Chloe breathes a sigh of relief as Missus Bell hangs up the phone.

  Whew! I hope she sends help quickly!

  She turns away from the wall-mounted phone just in time to avoid a handful of spaghetti and meatballs that is flying through the air. She immediately ducks, and then she looks behind her. The glob of spaghetti and two meatballs are clinging like glue to the front of the lettered sports jacket of the school’s star quarterback – six-foot-four-inches tall, 240-pounds in his birthday suit, bulging muscle from head to toe, Anthony Marvella. Anthony was standing in the serving line behind Diana Jane watching the food fight. The glaring, hateful expression on his flushed face could wipe out an entire team’s defensive linemen in no time.

  Chloe screams, “No, Anthony! Please do not get angry! You will make it even worse.”

  Without looking at her, Anthony says crossly, “Sorry, Chloe. I gotta do this. Move aside or be knocked aside!”

  Anthony effortlessly jumps over the serving line railing, and then he brusquely lumbers across the fifteen or so feet that separate him from his intended target, Samuel Smith. Samuel also is a large, muscular boy. He has to be well-built since he is the tuba player of the Claymore marching band. Samuel turned around after flinging the spaghetti and meatballs, so he does not know Anthony is coming at him. Nonetheless, once Anthony’s clenched fist connects with the side of his jaw, Samuel has just enough time for his mind to register who is about to knock him unconscious for at least ten minutes.

  In response to Anthony knocking Samuel senseless, the other band members sitting at Samuel’s table immediately pounce on Anthony. In reply, Anthony’s football teammates from an adjoining table join in the fray. Almost immediately, the entire cafeteria is awash with slamming fists in addition to flying food.

  Chloe is on the in-house phone a second time.

  She yells into the phone, “Missus Bell! Chloe Brown here once more. Please have Officer Bennett get here ASAP! As if the food fight wasn’t bad enough, fistfights have broken out as I predicted! At least one-half of the students in the cafeteria are throwing punches. Those who are not throwing punches are tossing food around like it’s confetti!”

  Missus Bell replies in a bored tone of voice, “How bad is it?”

  “What?” Chloe stammers. “You are asking me how bad it is? Goodness, Missus Bell! It is a food fight that has turned into a nasty fistfight. How much worse can it get? Anthony Marvella just knocked out Samuel Smith senseless. Now, the football players and band members are going at it. You are asking me how bad it is? Hello?” She holds the phone high in the air. “Can’t you hear the commotion, the screaming, the boisterous laughter?”

  Missus Bell does not reply.

  Chloe hears the unmistakable click of the phone as Missus Bell replaces it on the receiver.

  Goodness gracious, no! Missus Bell just hung up on me a second time! What’s more, the voice on the other end of the line didn’t sound anything like hers! What in the world is going on here?

  Chloe realizes someone is tugging on her arm. It is her good friend, Brenae.

  “Chloe, I know you are the cafeteria monitor and all,” Brenae cries. “On the other hand, we need to get out of here. It only will get worse!”

  Chloe replies, “I cannot leave. I am supposed to stay throughout the entire lunch period. It says so in the bylaws.”

  Diana Jane, Chloe’s neighbor from across the street, states, “To heck with those stupid by-laws. I read them. They do not say anything about having to hang around during food and fistfights! Bre’s right. Let’s get out of here now!”

  Just as the three girls turn to leave, an angry shout stops them in their tracks. The cry is from Mister Neville Sorrie the school vice principal. Mister Sorrie, who stands a little more than five-feet-three-inches tall on his tippy toes and probably weighs less than one hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet, has his arms stretched out wide. He is blocking the girls’ way.

  “Where do you think you three are off to?” he asks rudely. “Especially you, Miss Brown. If memory serves me correctly, you are today’s cafeteria monitor. You cannot leave until the lunch period is over.”

  Brenae is about to argue with the vice principal when the bell, announcing the end of the period, rings loudly. She says, “Mister Sorrie, it looks like we can leave now, am I correct?”

  Mister Sorrie does not reply. He spins on his heels and hurriedly heads out the door into the corridor.

  Diana Jane looks at Chloe and Brenae one after another. She says, “Goodness, did you see what I saw?”

  Just as Chloe is about to say that she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and had no clue with whom Brenae was speaking, Brenae replies. Her tone is excited.

  “Yes, if you are talking about the strands of twine Mister Sorrie had in his hand that he was trying to conceal, then yes, I saw them. What is even weirder, he seemed unreal, shimmering like he wasn’t there. If I didn’t know better, I would think Mister Sorrie was a figment of my imagination or something else absolutely strange.”

  Chloe glares at her two friends. “Mister Sorrie? Strands of twine? Not seeming real? Shimmering, figments of your imagination? Bre speaking to someone who wasn’t there? What in the world are the two of you talking about?”

  Chloe turns around to face the eyesore of what was, only five minutes ago, a neat and orderly cafeteria – a cafeteria that is now stained from wall to wall and ceiling to floor with today’s lunch fare. A cafeteria with overturned tables and chairs and students covered from head to toe with food and drink. Some of the students, all boys, casualties of the fistfights, are still lying on the floor writhing and moaning in pain. Cheerleaders and band members are attending to their minor injuries.

  Chloe turns to face her friends.

  “You two are talking about strands of twine, Mister Sorrie, shimmering stuff,” she gestures with a wide sweep of her hand across the length of the cafeteria, “when there is this horrible mess? A horrible mess that happened when I was serving as the cafeteria monitor? Speaking of Sorrie, he is going to have my behind for this when he returns. I am certain of it! I would not be surprised if I have to see Missus Davenhill and I get some demerits, or, what would be even worse, a week’s worth of detention!”

  “I doubt it,” Diana Jane says. “Sorrie didn’t seem overly concerned about everything that was happening here if you were to ask me my opinion. Sorrie stood for at least a few seconds watching the melee and did not make a move to stop it. Unless I am mistaken, he was grinning from ear to ear the whole time. It was like he was enjoying the show or something bizarre. His expression was equally strange. He looked like he was staring straight ahead but not seeing a darned thing. He appeared to be in a trance. I mean, Sorrie is weird, but the way he stared directly ahead gave me the creeps.”

  “Yeah,” Brenae says. “What's more, did you see the look on his face when he noticed that I was looking at his hand, the hand that was clutching a bit of twine?”

  “Yep,” Diana Jane replies. “He tried like crazy to conceal it. It was like he was trying to hide it from us. Nonetheless, we saw it just the same. I bet it is twine from Puppet.”

  “So what?” Chloe says. Her tone is ill-tempered.

  “Just about everyone has a coil of twine given to them by Puppet.” She looks questionably at Diana Jane and Brenae. “I bet you two have a coil of twine as well. I know I do. At least I used to.” She suddenly glares at her two friends.

  “My goodness, what in the world am I talking about as I discuss twine? Who
cares about twine,” she gestures once more at the chaotic scene before them, “when there is this mess? Besides you two, why are you talking about Mister Sorrie? He wasn’t here, and he isn’t here! If he had been here in the cafeteria, I would have seen him! I have been standing beside you for at least two minutes! I did not see Mister Sorrie. Period!”

  Diana Jane says in a detached tone, “Yes, Chloe, Sorrie was here.”

  Brenae echoes what Diana Jane has said. “Yep, Chloe, he was here. Yeah, I used to have a coil of twine given to me by Puppet. I threw it away a long time ago.” She looks at Diana Jane. “How about you? Do you have a coil of twine as well?”

  Diana Jane’s expression changes noticeably. By the shocked expression on her face, she looks like she has just seen a ghost. When she replies her tone is flippant and annoyed.

  “What if I do, and what if I don’t have a coil of Puppet’s twine? It makes no difference to me if I have a coil of twine. It’s just hemp anyway. It isn’t any big deal.”

  Chloe whispers, “Well as I said, I don’t have a coil of twine anymore. I gave it to my brother some time ago.” She whistles between her teeth. “Besides, I don’t want anything to do with Puppet, especially after my nightmare that I had the other night.” She looks at her watch.

  “What do you say we get the heck out of here before something else happens? We have a few minutes to make it to our next class before the bell rings. We can talk after school.” She moans loudly, and then she says, “That is if I’m still alive and still your classmate.” She glances at the cafeteria chaos once more.

  Despite the principal’s rules of no physical contact between students on school grounds, the three girls embrace in a tender, three-person hug.

  To heck with the rules, Chloe thinks to herself. After what happened here during the lunch period, I could use a loving hug from my good friends. Besides, something tells me today’s food fight and the ensuing fistfight are only the beginning of more chaos to come. What is more, I bet that the madness that follows will have everything to do with the puppety nightmare I dreamed the other day. I am confident about it!