The Big Book of Science Fiction

by The Big Book of Science Fiction (retail) (epub)

  —

  Mum and Dad are watching a movie on late-night TV. Timppa is around again.

  Annette has a walk-in closet that runs along the wall she shares with Lulu’s room. When they were little, they used to play telephone. Every time Annette held the rim of a drinking glass against the back wall of her closet and pressed her ear to the bottom, she could hear what her sister was saying even if Lulu used a normal voice.

  Annette visits the bathroom and dumps the toothbrushes out of the glass. She returns to her room, slides back the closet door, and makes her way through the hanging clothes. Chiffon, fake leather, and the hems of her black and brightly colored miniskirts brush her face, and the heels of her shoes clatter as she pushes them out of the way. The closet smells of fabric conditioner, sweaty sneakers, and lavender sachet.

  Annette holds the glass against the plaster. She knows that Lulu’s bed is on the other side, right up against the wall.

  —

  At first all she picks up is a lot of mumbling, moaning, whispering, and creaking bedsprings. Then comes a thump as though somebody’s arm or leg has hit the wall. The sound shoots right into Annette’s ear, and she almost jumps out of the closet.

  For Christ’s sake, what’s your problem? We’ve been together a whole month. She can hear Timppa clearly now, sounding all shrill since his voice hasn’t yet broken. Lulu responds with a murmur Annette can’t quite make out.

  What’re you saving it for? Timppa chirps. I’ll bet you’ve already been screwed every which way, at least that’s what the guys are saying.

  Again Annette can’t hear Lulu’s reply—is she talking into her pillow or what?—but Timppa understands her, and he answers immediately.

  Don’t you know this town’s full of chicks just begging for it? he scoffs. Why should I waste my time on some snooty tight-twat? Shit, are you like planning to hold out till you’re fourteen or something?

  No, Lulu says. I don’t know.

  Then what’s your problem? Aren’t you on the pill?

  Lulu hesitates. Well, not exactly. Her voice is all raspy and apologetic, the way it gets when she’s embarrassed. I haven’t quite got mine yet.

  Your pills?

  My…periods.

  Bingo! Then there’s no need to mess with rubbers!

  Again Lulu says something Annette can’t quite hear.

  I just think it’s time our relationship took a step forward. Timppa’s words sound like he’s reading them from a book.

  Another loud thump, followed by a rustling sound, probably Lulu’s sheets. She whimpers a little.

  Stop it.

  Stop it? You’re like a walking invitation, ass and jalookies on billboards all over town, and you have the balls to say stop it?

  Again the rustling of Lulu’s sheets. She mumbles something, and then comes Timppa’s voice, and this time it’s more of a whine. When you lead a guy on like that, you’ve got to see it through.

  Annette stands upright, and her head hits the metal rod, but she doesn’t give it a second thought. She crawls out of the closet, sending her shoes clattering into the room. An instant later she’s in the hall banging on Lulu’s door.

  Lulu!

  A moment’s silence, then Lulu’s voice, trying to sound calm and normal. Now what?

  Mum says your guest has to go!

  From behind the door comes a stifled curse, still more rustling; the bed creaks. There follows a lot of low harsh muttering, and Annette hears a zipper being pulled up. Timppa comes out of the door, his hair messed up and his face all red. He glowers at Annette, who’s leaning against the wall minding her own business, and she stares back at him with a shrug and an innocent, slightly apologetic smile that says, Parents will be parents.

  Lulu’s door stays closed, and after a short while the sound of soft sweet music floats out into the hall.

  —

  Timppa has stopped coming round and Annette is ferociously happy about it. But her triumph starts falling apart, cracking and flaking and blowing away with the wind when she realizes that Lulu hasn’t changed; she’s still always giggling and yawning and stuffing herself with laxative licorice candy. It’s the same Lulu who smiles mysteriously from beneath her false eyelashes, and for some reason she doesn’t seem to pine for the lost Timppa in the least.

  —

  The worst of it is the way Lulu had the nerve simply to forget Timppa, whose name still throbs where Annette scratched it on her forearm, Timppa Timppa Timppa.

  He was Annette’s first chance to be the way everyone expected her to be, and Lulu acts like she took up with him just for the hell of it, then let him go for the same reason. As if Annette wasn’t the one who split them up in the first place.

  Would it kill Lulu to show, even for the tiniest instant, that she knows what it feels like to be Annette?

  In fairness, ever since the night with the drinking glass Lulu has acted almost friendly toward Annette, chatting with her and giving her stuff from her makeup kit that’s hardly been used at all. Sometimes Lulu looks at her with big wet spaniel eyes, which is actually pretty maddening, and Annette almost breaks a tooth trying to stay calm when Lulu gets all palsy-walsy. Annette knows Lulu’s just pretending, her way of covering up the wound Annette caused in coming between her and Timppa. And with that phony chumminess Lulu is snatching away the last precious thing Annette has, her pissy little victory.

  And on top of it all Mumps keeps simpering, It’s so nice to see you sisters getting along so well.

  —

  Annette is vegging out before the television, the big noisy climax of some dopey rock show. Stick That Dick has dropped to number six on the charts, and now in the number one slot there’s the girl band Jugzapoppin’, who perform topless. After that there’s nothing on; even the trash channels are boring once you get used to them. Annette visits a chat room using the remote, but soon gives up. You can barely write two answers before somebody asks about your cup size and what color panties you’re wearing. She surfs the net, then skips through different TV channels, but all she can find are unfunny sitcoms and grotty old movies.

  One of them catches her attention.

  The title of the flick is Welcome to the Dollhouse. At first Annette is only interested because the star is so unbelievably ugly. Why would they let anybody who looks like that be in a movie? The girl must be about eight-yo, Annette’s age, and she’s not even making an effort to appear older. She wears glasses, of all things, which tells you right off the film is ancient, because nowadays nobody, no girl that is, would be that insane; you either have an operation or at the very least get contacts. Annette follows the film for a few minutes, occasionally flipping through the other channels, but she keeps coming back to Welcome to the Dollhouse as though drawn by a rubber band.

  The girl’s name is Dawn, and everyone at school hates her and calls her a dork and a dog and a dyke. She has a little sister named Missy who does ballet. Missy’s about six-yo. She wears a pink tutu and a pink leotard—a pink angel—her hair tied back in a bun, with flowers, cute as a doll. Dawn’s mum and dad spend all day fawning over Missy and neglect Dawn really badly, and Dawn hates Missy so much her stomach hurts. Okay, sure, Dawn never actually says Missy makes her stomach hurt, but Annette knows what it means when Dawn wraps her arms around herself, clenches her teeth, and shuts her eyes tight.

  Then one day Dawn’s mum asks her to tell Missy, who’s about to leave for a ballet class, that she can’t pick her up today, so Missy should ask the teacher for a ride home.

  But Dawn doesn’t tell her.

  And Missy is left standing alone outside the ballet school and gets kidnapped. Good-bye, Missy.

  Annette feels a devilish red glow of satisfaction, and yet at the same time terribly guilty, as if she were the one who’d gotten rid of Miss Goody Two-Shoes Sugar-Plum-Fairy Missy for good.

  She changes the channel and doesn’t watch the end of the Dollhouse flick, but still the mood of the thing follows Annette for days, and she can’t qu
ite shake that sickly-prickly thrill she felt when, with the police cars flashing their red and blue lights outside Dawn and Missy’s house, it became clear that Dawn had succeeded.

  —

  Lulu has a shoot somewhere on the other side of town. Mumps is in Gothenburg, and Dumps is supposed to pick her up after the session. Annette has of course been asked to babysit Otso. Surprised that the little Casanova’s not at Pamela’s place, she wonders, nastily, has Pamela found herself a more mega stud and finished with Otso just like that? Annette is lounging on the couch watching the celebs on Junior Pop Idol. Otso sits a meter from the TV, staring at the screen, and tries to sing along except when Annette hisses at him to be quiet. Four-year-old Jussi does a rendition of “I Want Your Sex,” then Kylie comes on, the same age, singing “Like a Virgin.” Kylie wears a shiny sequined dress and a pink ostrich-feather boa with matching lipstick. Halfway through the performance the telephone rings. Annette’s in a pretty ticked-off mood when she answers, interruptions being just about her least favorite thing.

  It’s Dad, and there’s a lot of noise in the background. He’s had to borrow somebody else’s phone to call her. Some idiot smashed into his car, and on impact his headset phone flew out the window and broke. Dad’s got to take the car to the garage and get himself a new headset, and that will take some time. He says Lulu probably switched off her phone for the shoot, so could Annette send her a voice mail or a text message saying Dad can’t pick her up and she should take a taxi? He explains this over and over like it’s the most difficult assignment ever.

  Yes yes yesyes! Annette screams, and ends the call, but still she’s missed two more potential Junior Pop Idols; now a five-yo boy is singing “…hit me, baby, one more time.” Otso joins in whenever Annette doesn’t try to stop him.

  Annette picks up her mobile and has already selected Lulu from the quick menu when her hand goes limp.

  This can’t be just a coincidence.

  Annette stares at the phone.

  Welcome to the dollhouse, Baby Doll, she says, then switches off the phone entirely.

  —

  Hours later the apartment phone rings for the sixth time, and each time the caller-name on the screen is Lulu.

  The fact that nobody’s answering isn’t exactly unusual. Otso’s a light sleeper, so Dad often unplugs the phone after he’s put Otso to bed, and all the headsets or mobiles in the apartment are in a drawer or under a pillow or turned off altogether.

  The phone rings for a seventh time.

  —

  The police car is parked in front of the building, but the lights on its roof aren’t pulsing red and blue like in the film; the car is totally dark and totally silent.

  Dad carries Lulu inside, wrapped in a gray blanket. Her mascara has dribbled down her face, and one of her cheeks is red and scratched and bleeding. Her right eye is almost swollen shut, and her lower lip is split. Dad carefully lays her on the living room couch and staggers into the kitchen like he’s gone blind. He returns with a dish towel soaked in warm water and tries to wipe the mascara streaks off Lulu’s face, but she gently pushes his hand away.

  Remppu, she whispers. Dad looks at Lulu; he doesn’t know what she means—but Annette knows, so she goes to Lulu’s room and pulls a drawer out from under the bed. Remppu is lying among the other junk with his spindly legs in a knot: a stuffed terry-cloth monkey whose long dangling arms have little orange mittens sewn at the ends. The terry-cloth loops have worn away on those places where Lulu used to suck on Remppu when she was a baby.

  Annette walks up to Lulu and places Remppu in her arms. Lulu squeezes him against her chest and places her lips to his battered old head, near where Annette once tore off the eyes and Mum had to sew on a pair of blue buttons instead. Lulu closes her own eyes and lies there perfectly still.

  The two policemen wander around the living room like flickering shadows. It’s as though Annette is not really in the same place where all this is happening; instead she’s standing outside somebody’s else’s apartment watching these events through the window. Her stomach’s filled with a heavy sweetness, as if her breath has turned to syrup.

  Messages sometimes disappear when the operators are busy, says one officer. Dad nods blindly; he clearly doesn’t even hear.

  We’ve got some possible sightings of the four men, and of course we’ll try our best, but, sad to say, cases like this are getting more common all the time, so who knows?

  Dad bobs his head like an automaton. Annette stands there silently and doesn’t know what to do; she feels totally stunned. Now she realizes how stupid she was. She didn’t mean for this to happen. She thought Lulu would just disappear, would get lost somewhere in town and, like a child in a fairy tale, never find her way home.

  Now Annette is annoyed that she didn’t watch Welcome to the Dollhouse all the way through; she doesn’t know what finally became of Missy.

  Would Dawn have made such a dumb-ass mistake?

  Are you sure you’ll be okay? an officer says.

  Dad nods for a third time, then takes Lulu and Remppu in a single bundle in his arms and walks off toward Lulu’s room; beneath the blanket Lulu’s feet dangle as limply as Remppu’s terry-cloth limbs.

  —

  Mum and Dad are in the den talking all hushed and low, thinking nobody will hear them, but the walls are thin and Annette has sharp ears; she can easily sort out both their voices, almost every word, from the noise of the TV in the background.

  Not that she wants to hear them, because her stomach is aching, and she’d much rather swat the voices away like flies and pretend they don’t exist, but she also feels compelled to listen, like that time at Ninotska’s nine-yo party when Annette kept her eyes on the screen even though she didn’t want to see any more grand slam hot pussies.

  The insurance will cover Lulu’s plastic surgery, Dad says. If we can believe the doctors, there won’t be any scarring. She can probably start modeling again in a couple of months. Thank God they finished the Sexy Secrets shoot in time.

  The men who did this, if they ever get caught—should we try to get…restitution? Mum asks indistinctly.

  Dad sighs. Caught? Not too likely. Wouldn’t matter anyway. The whole problem is that she never changed her clothes—she thought I was picking her up—so they’ll just say she was asking for it. Their lawyers will argue that Lulu brought it on herself.

  Then we won’t see a penny?

  ’Fraid not, Dad says.

  Annette’s head and stomach start aching again. What could that mean, Lulu brought it on herself? No, no, she did it—she, Annette, caused all this just as surely as if she’d bought a gun and shot herself in the foot. Annette would give almost anything for this, of all things, never to have happened.

  —

  Word has circulated around the school.

  The boys’ hand signals have become grosser than ever, and naturally Ninotska and Veronika keep trying to get all chatty with Annette. Annette vows to act hypernormal, a bit indifferent, even slightly chipper. She won’t show those dopes how much she’s really hurting.

  Four, Ninotska trills. Four horny dudes!

  Was it one after another, or did they all do it together? Veronika carries on.

  Annette shrugs. I couldn’t care less. She walks off, and the hallway echoes with shouts of lululululululululululu.

  —

  Mum has brought home burritos from the deli. She cuts one into small pieces for Otso and squeezes ketchup over them from a plastic bottle. Otso would eat Styrofoam if it was covered in ketchup. Lulu won’t come down to eat. She won’t even leave her room, and that infuriates Annette, too—Lulu always has to make herself special somehow. Annette pokes at her burrito with a fork. She normally likes them, but now her throat feels blocked. Lately nothing tickles her fancy.

  I want implants.

  The words bubble abruptly out of Annette’s mouth, almost like vomit. Mum stops in mid-squeeze, the bottle gives a little fart, and Otso has a laughing fit.

>   Implants? For you? Mum looks confused, as though she’d never heard the word before.

  Everybody’s got them!

  At your age?

  Ninotska’s getting them, Sarietta’s already stopped being a milkdud, and today I heard Veronika’s shopping around! Annette bangs her fork rhythmically against the table. Anyway, Lulu’s got them. You gave her implants the minute the agent told you to!

  Everything freezes. Mum stares at her, eyes like saucers, and even Otso stops eating. The silence gets so intense that Annette’s ears almost hurt, and then Mum clears her throat.

  But…we don’t want the same thing happening to you that happened to Lulu, she says, her voice all hoarse.

  You never want anything to happen to me, do you? says Annette, giving Mum big saucer-eyes in return.

  Mum doesn’t answer. All the doors and windows of her face are shut tight.

  Annette slams her fork so hard it springs out of her hand and somersaults to the floor, clanging like a bell.

  I knew it! I knew you never wanted anything to happen to me!

  Mum looks at her, the side of her mouth twitching. This is a sign.

  Everybody thinks I’m just a child! Annette screams. She upends her plate, sending chicken pieces and veggie bits flying out of the tortilla all over the tablecloth and onto the floor. Nothing real is ever supposed to happen to me!

  Mum stands there frozen, and Annette picks up a knife and starts banging it against the table. Mum moves quickly and grabs Annette’s arm. There, there, dear, we can ask Dad when he gets home, she says, then carefully takes the knife away.

  ABOUT THE EDITORS

  Ann VanderMeer currently serves as an acquiring fiction editor for Tor.com, Cheeky Frawg Books, and WeirdFictionReview.com. She was the editor-in-chief for Weird Tales for five years, during which time she was nominated three times for the Hugo Award and won one. Along with multiple nominations for the Shirley Jackson Award, she also has won a World Fantasy Award and a British Fantasy Award for coediting The Weird: A Compendium of Strange and Dark Stories. Other projects have included Best American Fantasy; three steampunk anthologies; and a humor book, The Kosher Guide to Imaginary Animals. Her latest anthologies include The Time Traveler’s Almanac, Sisters of the Revolution: A Feminist Speculative Fiction Anthology, and The Bestiary, an anthology of original fiction and art.