Red Shoes and Doll Parts

The story of Jackie and Mr. Jimmy is similar to that of the chicken and the egg.

Which came first?

Did Jackie start talking to Mr. Jimmy so much because the kids at school made fun of her
and called her Wacky Jackie? Or did the kids at school start making fun of Jackie because
all she did was talk to Mr. Jimmy?

Nobody really knows; not even Jackie knew.

But she thought so.

he would come home from school, take Mr. Jimmy out of his backpack and sob on his cold
wooden head.

"Oh Mr. Jimmy,” he would say, crying into the mirror, which made things even more
horrible, because he hated his uncontrollable hair and pimples and how he looked like a
bean boy in his clothes, ¿” why do you have to be so mean to me? "

And Mr. Jimmy would say something reassuring like, “You shouldn't worry so much about
what they think, Jackie. Jackie, they're scum. Jackie, they're creepy little ones. I hate them
so much. Don't you hate them?

But Jackie would shake her head. "No. Hating is bad. Mom and Dad say it. You shouldn't
hate people, Mr. Jimmy. Please don't." And then he would lock up Mr. Jimmy. It scared her
when she said things like that.
One day, however, was the first hot day of spring, and Jackie had worn the prettiest
summer dress to school. It had polka dots and short ruffled sleeves and a bright red belt.
She had felt like an absolute princess, like a flower full of petals. But instead of everyone at
school being impressed by Jackie's style, they made fun of her: for dressing too much, for
dressing too old-fashioned, for being able to see through her skirt, for trying to be so pretty
when obviously she wasn't. It was like this.

Jackie ran all the way home from school and broke her matching red shoes.

Her parents weren't home yet and she was glad. No one should have to see her like this.
Nobody but Mr. Jimmy. She hugged him tightly and cried over his flawless blue suit.

"Oh, Mr. Jimmy," she said at last, when she stopped crying long enough to speak. His voice
was full of hiccups. "I hate them. I do hate them. "

Mr. Jimmy was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Oh? Is that really true?

Jackie nodded fiercely. "I hate each and every one of them."

“Then we should do something about it. Don't you think?

Jackie wiped her eyes and stared. "What do you mean? What could we do?"

"Oh." And Mr. Jimmy, although it shouldn't have been possible, seemed to smile. Not his
painted smile, but one from deep within himself. "I have many ideas. I have had many ideas
for a long time."

"What kind of ideas?"

"We could get revenge on them."

"But how?"
Trust me, Jackie. Trust me. I have your best interests at heart. I love you, Jackie. "

And poor Jackie, red-faced, smiled. “I love you too, Mr. Jimmy. You are the best
friend I have in the whole world. "

"And I have been for a long time."

"Because if."

“And I always will be. Your best friend ".

Jackie laughed. "Of course! Don't be silly."

"This is not silly to me, Jackie."

There was that tone of voice that sometimes scared Jackie, the tone of voice that
Mr. Jimmy had when he talked about hating people. But Jackie was too tired of
crying to care much. So she put Mr. Jimmy on his stool and got into bed for a nap.
It was exhausting crying so much. He didn't even stop to remove his ruined red
shoes. She snuggled into her pillows and stared across the room at Mr. Jimmy's
face until she fell asleep.
And Mr. Jimmy sat on his stool and looked back at him, which is the only thing
ventriloquist dolls are supposed to do.

But Mr. Jimmy was special. Jackie would have been the first to tell him.

*
The next day, Jackie's parents heard a slight wood noise on the kitchen table and looked up
from their cereal to see Jackie sitting Mr. Jimmy in his old booster seat, from when she was
too little to reach the top. table on your own.

"Jackie," said Jackie's mom, "why is your doll on the kitchen table?"
"Don't listen to them, Jackie," Mr. Jimmy said through his gleaming white wooden teeth.
"Things will be different from now on. People may not understand us, Jackie. They may
not understand how much we love each other. But you and I understand, and that's enough.
That's enough."

Jackie worked very hard to pretend that Mr. Jimmy hadn't said anything at all. She had long
since realized that no one else could hear Mr. Jimmy but her. He made her feel special. He
made her feel beautiful, like something people wanted instead of something people made
fun of, something people tripped over in the aisles so she'd drop all her books, something
people pinched like she was some kind of ugly toy to be tortured.

Her mother gasped at the meanness in Jackie's voice. Jackie's father stood up and
straightened his shirt. "Now watch this, Jackie-kins. . . "

But Jackie didn't listen. He pushed the chair back so hard it crashed into the refrigerator.
She grabbed Mr. Jimmy and cradled him against her chest as she ran for the door. He
kicked the cat as it got in his way, and as the poor creature howled and wandered away, Mr.
Jimmy laughed against his ear.

"What a pretty girl, Jackie-kins," he said, and his breath was fetid, but his lips were soft.
"We'll show them. We'll show them. "

*
On the school bus that day, Jackie held Mr. Jimmy in the backpack on her lap and fussed
over him, stroking his soft painted black hair, running her fingers through his soft painted
suit jacket.

"He's so handsome, Mr. Jimmy," Jackie said dreamily, though she didn't say it as quietly as
she thought she would, and a couple of boys nearby, Greg and Michael, were their names,
turned to look. and point and laugh.

In response, Jackie kissed Mr. Jimmy's bright red lips.

"What are you saying to Mr. Jimmy today, Jackie?" said Greg. He had switched places with
Mary, in the seat across from Jackie's, so he could lean over the back of the seat and face
Jackie's face. He was a cute guy, and he had secretly always liked Jackie, and he was the
one who pinched her the most when no one else was looking.

He didn't understand why Jackie preferred a doll to him.

"None of your business," Jackie said, turning back to the window.

Mr. Jimmy's bright blue eyes looked out of the open backpack, straight at Greg.

It made the deep, secret part of Greg, the same part that told him when he was in danger, or
when someone was watching him, uncomfortable. But Greg wasn't good at reading the
deep, secret part of himself, so he just got angry.

He grabbed Jackie by the arm and turned her around so she was looking at him. Some of
the other kids, Michael, Mary, Timothy and his sister Elizabeth, gathered around. The bus
driver didn't care; the bus driver never cared.

This went on for a while, and soon the whole bus was singing a song Greg had made up,
"Jackie and Jimmy, sitting in a tree! One's a doll and the other's a crazy man!"

"No," Jackie said, and her whole body was shaking. "We can't hurt them. It's not right."

"But yesterday, Jackie, yesterday you said we could hurt them."

Jackie closed her eyes tightly and covered her ears with her hands, but that seemed to make
Mr. Jimmy's voice even louder.

"Yesterday, Jackie, yesterday you said you loved me."

Jackie opened her eyes. Mr. Jimmy was standing very close to her; his eyes looked alive;
his mouth looked wet. He smelled something burning.

"I love you, Mr. Jimmy," she said, wiping away tears.

"I'll tell you what Mr. Jimmy said," she announced, and the whole bus fell silent because
they thought this was going to be good .

"He told me," Jackie said, "that he wished he was alive, so he could hurt you, all of you, for
being mean to me.
that night, sirens filled the air in Jackie's neighborhood. He lay down on the bed, breathing
heavily under the covers. His bedroom glowed red and blue. When he got up to look out the
window, he saw the ambulance and the police cars on the next street: Greg's. And that
house was Greg's house. And that broken window was Greg's window.

Was that body, on the gurney, Greg's body?

"Mr. Jimmy," she whispered, "what did you do?"

He was there at her feet, sprawled on the ground with twisted limbs. His cold wooden
fingers touched her ankle.

"Just what you wanted me to do," he said kindly. "I did it so you wouldn't have to." And
when Jackie got back in bed, she hugged Mr. Jimmy under the covers. He whispered in her
ear how much he loved her until she fell asleep.

*
"How horrible, what happened to that poor boy," Jackie's mom said at breakfast the next
morning.

"However, I heard it will be okay," Jackie's father said. "That's what I heard from the
neighbors."

"What exactly happened?"

“A nasty fall. Apparently he fell out the window. "

Jackie was stuffing cereal into her mouth like a robot. Mr. Jimmy sat next to her.

Jackie's mom tried to ignore that frozen, smiling face. She had never liked that doll. He
wished they had never visited that antique store that hot summer.
“Jackie,” Jackie's mom said, “are you okay? You look terrible. "

Jackie paused, with a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth, and looked at her mom.
"Wow. Thank you."

"I mean it, honey." His mother put a hand to her forehead. “It seems you haven't slept at all.
You have dark circles under your eyes. You are burning ".

"Maybe you should stay home and not go to school," Jackie's father said.

"Not!" Jackie jumped out of her chair. "I have to go to school".