The Knick Knack Nightmare Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Mr. Happy Face

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About The Author

  THE KNICK KNACK NIGHTMARE

  (Perry & Arvin Adventures, Book 2)

  C.M. Bacon

  The Knick Knack Nightmare

  (Perry & Arvin Adventures, Book 2)

  Copyright © 2017 C.M. Bacon

  http://www.cmbacon.com

  ISBN-13 (eBook): 978-0-9975786-2-1

  ISBN-13 (Print): 978-0-9975786-3-8

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. It may not be copied or given away unless the original copy is destroyed/deleted. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. For permissions and inquiries, please write to the author at [email protected].

  First Edition 2017

  “Mr. Happy Face” Gnome illustration by @MichaelBaconArt of The Scribbler’s Nook

  http://www.twitter.com/MichaelBaconArt

  Thank you, Nico.

  What lies behind you

  and what lies in front of you,

  pales in comparison

  to what lies inside of you.

  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Mr. Happy Face

  ONE

  The lock jiggled, steel key and brass cylinder clinking together as he fumbled around, trying to force it.

  “Psst!” I whispered into the room, “Arvin’s back. Turn off the lights. Everyone, be quiet.”

  I’d been waiting for this moment. Waiting to get even. Today was Arvin’s fifteenth, so it had to be special. Unforgettable even. Any moment, he’d step through the door and get what he deserved. He’d never forget. I was sure of it. The door swung open, and Arvin stumbled into the room.

  I jumped out from behind a curio cabinet, “Surprise,” and yanked the little string.

  Rainbow streamers and confetti exploded out of the party popper and flew across the room, sticking to Arvin’s clothes, glittering his face. A red metallic star stuck to the end of Arvin’s nose, sparkling in the light. He looked like a reindeer in one of Mom’s favorite cartoons.

  “Happy birthday, Buddy!” I took the milk jug and corner mart receipt out of his hand and passed them to Ms. Pewter’s boyfriend, Tim Patterson. I gave Arvin a small gift box and punched him on the arm. “Lucky number fifteen. Already practicing for the Christmas musical?” I scratched the tip of my nose and winked at him.

  Arvin brushed away the star and shook out his curls. Confetti rained onto the wood floor. He felt the smooth paper, twirled the ribbon around his fingers, and shook box side to side. “Thanks, but isn’t seven supposed to be the lucky number?”

  “Fifteen is more than twice as lucky. It’s a wallet by the way. A nice one, too.” I couldn’t help myself. “All leather. No Velcro. No buttons. I got it at Garden Glen last week.”

  “Stop. Don’t tell me the color. I want something about it to be a surprise.” Arvin kicked the door behind him. It slammed shut, rustling the wilted leaves of two large plants stuffed into the fireplace. Arvin laid my gift among others on a glass coffee table and plopped down on the living room sofa.

  Fifty party guests clamored and shoved, moving around the room, jostling for a better view. Sarah Peters, a short, chatty girl with a sly smile and cropped black hair, balanced herself on an old stool beside the hearth. The stool wobbled in every direction and she wobbled along with it, round and round until she grabbed hold of the fireplace mantel to steady herself.

  Kaila sat next to Arvin. She wore a white sarong with blue birds of paradise flowers across the front and back and green palm fronds down the sides. She had let her long, brown grow out all year. It flowed over her shoulders and rested on top of the octagonal box in her lap. Kaila placed the gift on Arvin’s knees. “Happy birthday, Arvie.” Kaila kissed his forehead.

  Arvin shook the gift and peeled away the smooth paper. He laid the paper to one side and held the bare box for everyone to see. “I’ve always wanted a plain, white box like this. How did you know?”

  “You and those jokes.” Kaila waved to Emilia. “Just open the box. It’s from both of us.”

  Arvin popped open the lid, “Geodes!” and rummaged through the box. “Thanks Kaila and Emilia.”

  Emilia smiled. “We knew you’d like them.”

  In the year since returning from our trip across dimensions, Arvin traded his gewgaws for rocks and geodes. “No magic coins to turn us into snakes or teleport us into dungeons,” he said. “Those adventures are for people without a reason to return. They can keep th em.”

  I couldn’t blame him. Arvin had a tall, tanned reason to stay. Kaila Wren was more than a year older and two feet taller than Arvin, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He carried her swim flippers at the pool, and she rubbed sunscreen over his back. He held her bags at the mall and bought her soft pretzels with his lawn mowing money. Kaila fed him blue raspberry slushies and helped him with algebra homework. They read sappy poetry together and stuck pins in maps of far away places they planned to see after university. When Arvin smiled at Kaila, she smiled back. He winked at her. She winked back. I thought they had pinkeye, but Arvin swore it was love. And they weren’t the only ones infected.

  Emilia tapped my shoulder. I turned to see her smiling. She wore a purple sun dress with little white flowers. Emilia tilted her head and brushed her long, brown hair behind her ear. She got her ears pierced in spring. Amethyst and silver studs to match the delicate bracelet around her wrist. Lovely. I smiled. She smiled back. I love your smile. I love the freckles behind your ear. One, two freckles, three, four, seven - one perfect and round.

  “Perry? Is something wrong?”

  Now, I thought. It’s time to tell you everything. Time to tell you about Dad’s magic coin, the snake boy and his mother, the giant knights and the kind albinos, the armies and the cloud city of Aurabash. I wanted to tell her at least ten thousand times. It was always ready to fly out of my mouth like everything else, but the secret was too large. The day Arvin and I returned, I wrapped the coin in my old baby blanket and hid it under a pile of gewgaws at the bottom of Dad’s old trunk. It was the hardest thing I had ever done.

  “I-, I was looking at Ms. Pewter’s knick-knack collection.” My eyes shifted to the fireplace mantel. “Mom has a few of these, too.”

  Ms. Pewter’s stockpile of knick-knacks put Mom’s 16-year collection to shame. She had thirty-two miniature thimbles, fifty silver spoons painted with every US state seal, twenty crystal cats, eight wooden dalmatians, forty-two blown glass birds, a symphony of green and red spotted frogs playing tiny yellow banjos, six crystal kangaroos, and seventy-seven mini garden gnomes. And that was just the living room. She had thousands more throughout the house. They perched on the fireplace mantel, filled glass cases, lurked around every corner, guarded Arvin as he slept, held the salt and pepper shakers, stood between the shampoo and conditioner, and stared - noses pinched - as you did your business in the bathroom.

  Emilia rubbed her eyes. “What on Earth inspired Ms. Pewter to collect so many?”

  “Mom’s knick-knacks were gifts from Dad. She hasn’t collected one since he - you know. Ms. Pewter started her collection after Arv
in’s old house burned down and his dad - you know. Lucky for Arvin, she hasn’t dragged him out to buy knick-knacks since meeting Mr. Patterson.”

  Ms. Pewter said Tim Patterson was a good listener and “a keeper.” His job as a census taker brought him to every doorstep in Shelbyville, annoying people by knock-nickety knocking at their doors with a stack of surveys in his right hand and a pen in his left. Three weeks ago, Tim had knock-nickety knocked on Ms. Pewter’s door and into her heart. He was stocky and balding, the last of his red curls falling out in patches around his head. He had a button nose and intense, green eyes like Arvin’s father. They looked so alike, I thought they were brothers. He was funny and protective. When we met, Tim asked me a hundred questions and listened to every answer. I understood why Ms. Pewter liked him. Everyone did.

  “How sweet! Kaila and Arvin. Ms. Pewter and Mr. Patterson. Your mom and Martin. It’s like Valentine’s came early for old people.”

  “Why would anyone beg a demon baby to shoot their crush with an arrow? Seems like a violent start to a relationship if you ask me.”

  Emilia placed her warm hand on my arm. “Because the story makes people happy.”

  “Cupid should stick to fairy tales and leave the real world alone.”

  “You ought to give Martin a chance. For your mom.”

  “He’s tall and gangly like goofy-haired taffy hung from the ceiling. Did I tell you how she met him? At the supermarket. Even named him after the my favorite fabric softener.”

  “I heard. Soft something?”

  “Soft and Gentle.” The words turned my stomach. “Horrible nickname. I’d rather be itchy.” Martin was not soft and gentle. He had a strong jaw. His dark brown eyes locked with mine in staring contests over the mashed potatoes and peas every Monday and Thursday. Though he’d sometimes win a battle, he couldn’t win the war. Neither could I, so I protested in other ways.

  Emilia looked around the room. “So where is he? I wanted to say hi.”

  “He caught an early flight to Japan. Hunting heads in Tokyo or something stupid.”

  “Well, I think he’s nice.” Emilia blew the dust off a little chrome vase on the mantel. “And a good fit for your mom.” She coughed, swatting dust bunnies away from her face.

  “If you say so. But I’m not ready for anyone to be a ‘good fit’ for Mom. Not yet.”

  Arvin unwrapped his final present - a black leather jacket with silver zippers from Mr. Patterson.

  “I took it off the cow myself.” Mr. Patterson made a silly face-peeling motion with his hands.

  Kaila rolled her eyes and Arvin laughed. It was something Arvin might say.

  “Debbie,” Ms. Pewter hollered into the kitchen, “we’re ready for the cake now.” She glared at us. “She worked very hard on it so be nice.”

  “Coming, Patty.” Mom nudged the kitchen door open with her hip, entering with a cake as big as a beehive.

  Fifteen red candy stars sparkled over gooey blobs of red icing. Fifteen red candles burned on one side, and fifteen lit sparklers shot flames out the other. Blinding sparks flew into the air, and thick plumes of gray smoke rolled along the ceiling. The smoke alarm beeped. Was I supposed to eat the cake or call the fire department first? Before I could decide, Ms. Pewter ripped the guts out of the detector, shutting it off.

  Mom placed the lopsided dessert in the center of it. “It’s a red velvet volcano cake.”

  “It’s your head.” Kaila ran her fingers through Arvin’s curls. “But less hairy.”

  Arvin laughed. “Thanks, Ms. Dobbs.”

  Mom stood holding a long plastic cake knife, ready to slay the red monstrosity. “Make a wish.”

  Arvin closed his eyes. His lips moved in the shape of the wish as it passed through his thoughts. He took a deep breath and blew.

  CRACK

  “Oops. Sorry, Ms. Pewter,” Sarah said. “It was an accident. Honest.”

  I whipped around to see the fireplace hearth as everyone let out a collective sigh.

  “Oh, no. Not my crystal kangaroo.” Ms. Pewter picked pieces of shattered marsupial off the marble hearth. “It’s okay, Sarah. But please get off that old stool before you break your neck. Tim, can you get the small broom and dustpan? They’re in the closet. Tim?” Ms. Pewter stood on her toes and peered over our heads. “Tim, where’d you go?”

  “Up here, Patty.” Tim hurried down the stairs, carrying a black leather briefcase with red stitching. He had changed out of his pink polo and plaid shorts and into a blue suit and red tie. “The office called. Last minute conference in St. Paul.”

  “But Tim, today’s Arvin’s birthday. And it’s Saturday morning.”

  “Sorry. The census waits for no one.” Tim kissed Ms. Pewter on the cheek and was out the door. Sunlight bounced off his sweaty head as he hurried past the window.

  “He should get a car,” I said. “He must hate walking and taking Metro Transit everywhere.”

  “Who wants cake?” Mom placed the first piece of red cake onto a white paper plate and smeared two gooey blobs of frosting onto the plate’s edge.

  “Right here!” Arvin accepted the first test of Mom’s latest kitchen creation.

  “That’s the spirit.” Mom plopped a second piece of cake on the plate.

  Arvin took a generous bite. “It’s,” Arvin gulped and cleared his throat, “tasty.” His cheeks turned rosy pink.

  “Oh, thank goodness! I know the salt and sugar got mixed up last time, so I doubled everything this time.”

  Arvin popped open a can of green melon soda and took a swig. He shook his head at Kaila as Mom cut another piece.

  Mom handed the next slices to Kaila and Emilia.

  The sisters stared at the cake as if evil creatures had crawled onto their plates. Emilia nibbled a crumb off the edge of her fork. “Arvin was right. It’s tasty.” She coughed and smiled.

  “Oh, dear. That cough sounds awful. Are you feeling okay?”

  Emilia rubbed her throat. “It’s a little scratchy. That’s all.”

  Mom tried to pass me a mountainous slice of the red death. “How about you, Sweetie?”

  I leaned against the plush arm of the couch and rubbed my throat. “You know what. My throat’s a little scratchy, too. I think I’ll skip the cake today.”

  “Okay.” Mom smiled at Arvin. “More cake for the birthday boy!”

  Arvin’s took another tenuous bite. His lips quivered as he glanced sideways at me. “Traitor.”

  After the party, everyone went separate ways. Emilia and Kaila’s dad picked them up for a family meeting, Ms. Pewter took Arvin clothes-shopping for the first day of school, and I walked home with Mom.

  Shelby Lane was the same as always. Blue and white houses - triangles atop squares - lined the street for miles. Oaks swayed on the left and right. If two unfamiliar cars passed within an hour, little old busybodies would report a traffic jam to Channel 11 news. Suspicious eyes peeped out of parted curtains, responding to any loud noise. And laughter before noon was met with tennis balls flung from the ends of walkers and canes.

  A cool gust of wind whistled through the trees.

  Mom was walking slower than usual, reapplying her lip balm for the third time.

  “Mom, do you want to tell—?”

  “Perry, I want to discuss something with you.” Mom stopped me on the sidewalk outside the Shelby Lane Pool’s rusty, old gate. “Martin and I have gotten close. I like him a lot. More than I thought I would.”

  “I know. He’s eaten dinner with us almost every night this week.”

  “Well, we’ve been talking about getting married.”

  “Married? But you’ve known each other two months.”

  Mom rubbed her lips together and twirled a few strands of hair around a finger. “Love happens fast at my age. I’m sure he’ll ask you to be the best man.”

  “Love? You’ve known each other two months.”

  “Yes, you said.”

  “Two months.”

  The blonde dragon flashe
d behind Mom’s blue eyes. “I expected you’d be mature. You’re fifteen for goodness’ sake. I expected—”

  “You expected too much.” I walked away.

  The blonde dragon roared. “Get your selfish tushy back here!” Tushy? Her fire had gotten much hotter.

  A high curtain parted on the nearest house, and an old lady pressed her face to the glass. Plastic curlers in her hair tapped against it. As fast as she had opened her curtains, she pulled them shut. No doubt Mom would hear about it later.

  I stopped on a patchy spot of grass and dirt. “What would Dad think?”

  She tapped her fingernails on her purple belt. “I’ll always love your dad. But, he’s not here anymore. I am. I never thought he’d leave us so soon. After he died, I swore I’d never fall in love again. Then I met Martin. When it comes to falling in love, things don’t always happen as you expect.”

  I stared at the bare ground. “You’re telling me.” With the tip of my sneaker, I made two small swirls in the dirt and a third, larger one between them. “I don’t know anything about him.” I kicked dirt over the third swirl.

  “So get to know him. Give Martin a chance and you’ll see. Don’t I deserve as much? Promise me you’ll try.”

  “Fine. I’ll try.” But not really.

  “That’s all I ask.” Mom retracted the dragon’s claws and put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get a couple reusable bags from home, and we’ll meet Patricia and Arvin at Garden Glen.”

  We were across from home when Mom yanked my arm, pulling me behind a large oak. “Did you leave the front door open?”

  “No, I always close it.” I craned my head past the massive tree trunk to see our house. The door was wide open as if someone had rushed out or even worse - entered. “I closed it. I’m sure I did. I locked it, too. You saw me.”

  “Wait here.” Mom kept her eyes on the open door and pushed me flat against the tree trunk, shaking loose several yellow leaves. One landed on her shoulder and another on her head. She didn’t flinch. “Don’t come into the house until I say it’s okay.”