Jake’s house was just over the hill from his bus stop. It was late fall and, even at 2:30 PM, the sun hung low in the sky. From the top of the hill, he could see his house. It was blue with white trim. The back yard was overgrown with weeds, and there was a faded blue kiddie-pool in the far corner. There were about six inches of leaves floating on three inches of water, and the pool covered a circle of grass that had been brown and dead for weeks.
He felt in his pocket for the key, and had a moment of apprehension – but no, he’d remembered it. He sighed with relief. Lately, the back door had been locked, too, and he didn’t dare break another window – not after last time. Without the key, he would have had to wait for Jenn to get home, and then find a place to be until their parents arrived, hours later. Jake and Jenn were quiet and polite enough, but, even so, their neighbors had become tired of providing them shelter.
But today, because he’d remembered his key, he had a half hour of peace and quiet before his sister came through the door. He locked the door behind him, made himself a snack, and plopped down on the living room couch. He needed to stay near the door so he could hear when Jenn knocked. The TV remote was missing, and he didn’t feel like looking for it. He closed his eyes, and was nearly asleep when the knock came.
He woke up just enough to shuffle to the door, unlock it, and lock it again once Jenn was sprinting up the stairs to her room. He plopped down on the couch again, and something deep inside it made a loud snapping noise. The couch didn’t feel any different, and Jake was unconcerned. He tried to think back to when he was eight and in third grade, a virtually eternal gulf of four years, and to remember if he had had that kind of energy back then.
When his dad got home in a few hours, he would have to pretend to have more energy. His dad was prone to tell him things like, “You’re twelve years old! You should be ready to conquer the world! Instead, you wave a white flag and say, ‘Come get me, world. You beat me!’” Jake didn’t necessarily feel defeated, but what would he do with the world if he did conquer it, and what would he bother to change? It just seemed best right then to save his energy for the time when he needed it.
He was just beginning to weigh the benefits of climbing the stairs to get to his room – he would get added privacy, and his bed was more comfortable than the couch, but he would have to get up and climb the stairs to get there – when his sister bounded down the stairs again. The girl barely weighed sixty pounds. How did she make so much noise?
“I’m hungry,” she announced, way too loudly.
“The kitchen’s over there,” he replied, pointing vaguely.
“I can’t reach the mac and cheese.”
“Get a chair.”
“And Dilly’s hungry too.”
He glanced over, and, yes, she had that stupid armadillo cradled in her arms. He closed his eyes again. “Dilly’s a stuffed animal. He’s fabric and fluff. He doesn’t get hungry.”
“I eat for both of us. And I don’t want to climb a chair.”
“I guess you’re not that hungry then.”
“Pleeeeaaase get us some foooood!” pleaded a sweet, high-pitched voice.
“I saw your lips moving,” snapped Jake.
“Your eyes weren’t even open!” Jenn shot back.
“But I know you moved your lips. You always move your lips when Dilly ‘talks’,” said Jake with a sneer and big, sarcastic air quotes.
“Dilly needs help, that’s all.”
“You need help!”
“You just told me I didn’t.”
“You don’t need help to get food. You need mental help.” He gave up any hope of rest and sat up, looking at her. Then he looked past her to the kitchen table. “Mr. Chair,” he called out with honey-sweet politeness, “will you please slide over to the pantry so poor little Jenn doesn’t have to push you there?”
“Grow up!”
“You grow up! Talking to a chair is no more stupid than talking to stupid fake armadillo! Real armadillos aren’t even soft and furry like that. They’re hard and spiny.”
“That chair’s not a part of you. You were just talking to the chair to make fun of me.”
“You’re eight years old! You’re not four. You need to give up your stupid stuffed animals!”
“You’re twelve years old, not two! It doesn’t hurt you one bit when I talk to Dilly, so why do you care?”
“It’s time for you to give him up. It was time two years ago.”
“You’re not allowed to parent me. Don’t make me tell Mom and Dad you’re trying to parent me!”
Jake paused. He had to choose his words carefully. He truly despised those lectures he got about not trying to parent Jenn.
“No, I’m not – I’m not trying to really tell you what to do. It’s just – well, how long are you going to keep this up?”
“I don’t know. But even teenagers keep stuffed animals.”
“Mostly girls…”
“I’m a girl!”
“They keep them like decorations – they don’t talk to them!”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know anyth…” Suddenly, she paused. She saw something in his eyes, something beyond big-brother meanness, and she was surprised to see it there. “It’s not true. I’m sorry. You know lots of things.” She paused again, and asked, respectfully, really wanting an answer, “Why do you care?”
Jake had been ready to snap back at her, but her new tone caught him off guard. “It just doesn’t seem right,” he ventured. “You’re old enough to know he’s not real.”
“But nothing else bothers you like Dilly. I have books from when I was in Kindergarten. You never say a thing when I read them. I have blocks from when I was even younger, and, sometimes, when I stack those up, you even play with me. It’s only Dilly and maybe my dolls that bother you.”
“’Dilly and the Dolls’ – it sounds like a really bad rock band.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just tell me why.”
“I guess it’s because you’re old enough to know they’re not real. I saw your science book, when you were working on animals. You know the difference. You know your stuffed animals are toys, not animals. You know your dolls aren’t people. But you talk like they are. And you never stop pretending they’re real. They’re no more alive than the rocks in our front yard. You should know that by now.”
“Jake, I’ve always known that Dilly isn’t like a real animal.”
“So, you know he’s not real?”
“I know he’s not a real animal. But he’s real.”
“But you talk to him. You talk for him. You only pretend he eats and talks and thinks.”
“He needs my help to eat and talk and think. That doesn’t mean I’m pretending.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Dilly doesn’t have a brain inside him, I know, and he doesn’t have a mouth that opens, or a voice, or a stomach. I have to do all that stuff for him. But when he thinks, it’s not just me thinking. It’s a special part of my brain just for Dilly. That part of my brain decides what Dilly is going to say, and what he likes to eat. It decides when he’s hungry. The Dilly part of my brain only works when Dilly is around.”
“Okay, so what if somebody stole Dilly? How would he know what to say and think and eat?”
“Nobody can steal all of Dilly. They can only steal the stuffed animal part. If they played with him, they’d make a new part of their brain for Dilly. He’d have a whole different personality.”
“But all that’s just fake!”
“No. If it were fake, I could make Dilly talk and think when he wasn’t around. But I can’t.”
“You really can’t?”
“I could fake it, but it wouldn’t be the same. I bet even you could tell the difference.”
“Even me? I thought we were being nice.”
“Yeah, sorry. I meant even though you don’t believe me, you’d still see the difference.”
“Okay.”
“So, I guess I know that Dilly’s brain is really part of my brain, but I like to think of that part of me as just Dilly’s brain. And, if I didn’t have Dilly, I might lose that part of my mind.”
“I think you already – no, sorry, being nice.”
“Good catch, Jake.”
“Thanks.”
“And you see why I get so upset when you insult him, or take him away. You insult part of me, and steal away part of my mind. So, do you think you can stop being mean?”
“Well, not forever.”
“Of course not forever; you’re still my brother. You’ll always be mean sometimes.”
“So will you.” Jenn nodded in agreement. Jake continued, “But I think I can put up with Dilly now that I know he’s an extra part of your brain. You need all the extra brain you can get.”
“Jake!”
“Just kidding. So, Dilly’s still not going to be my favorite part of your brain.”
“That’s okay. Only one part can be your favorite. We’re still hungry, though.”
“All right. I’m awake now.”
Jake walked over to the kitchen, and pulled down a packet of macaroni and cheese. Three-and-a-half minutes later, Jenn and Dilly had a snack.
Jake went up to his room to find a book to read. He was about to flop down on his unmade bed when he turned suddenly toward his closet. Rummaging way back in the corner, on the top shelf, he found Ruff, right where he thought he would be. With that impulse out of the way, he was ready to flop down again, and he did. The box springs protested loudly.
He lay there with the brown floppy dog in front of him. “I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.
“I’ve been right here,” replied an oddly dog-like voice.
“I’m sorry. I guess I thought I didn’t need you anymore.”
“Maybe you didn’t.”
“But I’m glad you’re still there.”
“Me too.”
Jake scratched Ruff behind his ears, and his head moved in appreciation, as convincingly as any living dog could manage. From an unknown location deep inside Jake’s closet, another voice came to him. “Can I talk to you, too?”
Jake was unprepared for this part of his mind to reassert itself, but he recognized the voice immediately. It was Mr. Smiley, a round, yellow pillow with round, black eyes and a wide black grin. “Sure,” replied Jake, but he realized that one wall after another was being knocked down inside him just so that the soft and cuddly face could talk.
“This is a lot of work,” said the pillow. “Do you think you can help me? It’s like you’ve forgotten how to be happy.”
“I didn’t forget. I just learned what real life was like.”
“Real life has happiness.”
“Every time I learn something in school, there are two more things I’m falling behind in. For every friend I have, there are five kids who make fun of me, and ten more who can’t even see me. My only purpose at home is to give my little sister everything she wants, or pay the consequences when Mom and Dad get home. Every time I try to be happy, I’m just fooling myself.”
“You did forget. Happy things are just as real as sad things. There are just as many happy things. You just have to remember how to find them.”
Jake crawled out of bed again. He rummaged around in his closet for a full five minutes until he found Mr. Smiley, flattened under a box no human had touched for over three years. He fluffed up Mr. Smiley, and brushed off as much dust as he could. Jake still felt sluggish and tired. Even the combined powers of Ruff and Mr. Smiley could not turn Jake’s mood around instantly.
Jake snuggled quietly under his blanket, with Ruff under one arm and Mr. Smiley under the other. He slept. The first bit of happiness he found was warmth and comfort. There followed two hours of sleep more restful than any full night had been for quite some time.
When his dad came home, Jake woke feeling refreshed. He didn’t have to pretend to have energy. His energy was real. He bounded down the stairs, heedless of the noise he was making.
“Did you have a good day?” asked his father.
“It’s a good day now.”
The man was positively beaming. “Good!” he said, simply. Jake realized that it didn’t take so much to please his dad after all.
Jenn was setting the table for dinner with one hand while she cradled Dilly in the other. Jake ruffled Dilly’s head, smiling. “Thanks, big guy,” he said aloud.
“Thanks for whaaaat?” asked that sweet, high-pitched voice, but Jake didn’t answer.
Ruff took up residence on top of Jake’s dresser, where he appeared to be a tangled, furry, brown decoration. Mr. Smiley became Jake’s top pillow. They were there to greet him every morning and talk about his day each night. He didn’t carry them around, but those parts of his mind were exercised every day, and he was happier because of it.
A few weeks later, Jake walked off to his bus stop again. He climbed the hill carefully, because an inch or so of snow had fallen the previous night. He felt in his pocket, and the key was there. At the top of the hill, he glanced back toward his house. Both the roof and yard looked better for the fresh white covering of snow. The pool still covered a circle of dead grass, and contained six inches of leaves over three inches of water and ice – but on top of that was an inch of snow, and that made all the difference.
All that came from a glance. He spent more time looking forward, with shops and stores to the right and tall trees to the left – as much freshness and beauty as he could take in. He pondered the fact that, a scant month ago, he would have stumbled wearily through his morning without noticing any of the fresh beauty around him. Behind him, down the hill, he heard a distant bark and felt a warm smile. “It’s going to be another good day,” he said to himself.
