Toys Come Home Read Free Page A

go away from these selfish toys to somewhere better. Much better.
    And she’ll never come back!
    And then they’ll all miss her!
    Without thinking about the herd of possible vicious towels in the linen closet and the bathroom, without thinking about where she will go and how she will sleep, StingRay zooms out of the Girl’s bedroom, down the hall and—
    Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.
    Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.
    Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.
    Bonk!
    Falls down the stairs. Flipper over flipper, thumping and ouching, bouncing off moldings and posts, then lying shocked at the bottom, head aching.
    But she cannot rest. She is running away. Where to go?
    Where to go?
    StingRay has not been in the downstairs of the house since she arrived. She doesn’t remember which room is the kitchen, the living room, anything. She hurls herself across the wood floor, searching for an exit in the dark.
    She can feel something swing slightly as she bangs into it, so she pulls up short. It’s a door. The door to the outside.
    This is it.
    Eyes shut tightly, StingRay pushes through the doorway and down another flight of stairs—
    Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.
    Bonk!
    —to land in complete darkness.
    The floor underneath her is cold.
    StingRay coughs.
    It is very dusty.
    There is a rumbling coming from the other end of the room.
    This is not the outside. StingRay has looked out the windows enough to know that the outside has grass and trees and the sounds of cars going by, leaves rustling. Here, she can hear nothing but the scary rumble.
    This must be the basement.
    Rumble. Ruuuuuuumble.
    What is that sound?
    Could it be a ghost?
    Maybe ghosts go to the basement to hide when the attic gets full up, StingRay thinks.
    Maybe they go down there to eat marine animals
    who might have strayed from their usual habitats,
    or make slaves of lonely friendless people.
    Maybe it’s not ghosts at all but axe murderers, leaping around with axes and rumbling all about how they want to chop things.
    Whooooo addleaddleaddle!
    Something hairy with lots of legs crawls onto StingRay’s flipper. She can feel it inching its way across.…
    It is on her! The thing! Maybe a spider with fifty-eight legs,
    just a crazy amount of creepy crawly legs,
    and it is crawling on StingRay’s body—
    Whooooo addleaddleaddle! StingRay rears up and flaps her flippers and screeches to get the spider off. Oh, it sends shivers down her back! She rolls in the dust and flops back and forth and tosses her head—eeeeeewwww—and finally, finally comes to a stop when she is sure the spider-thing is not on her anymore.
    In the darkness, she can just make out stacks of cardboard boxes looming on either side of her.
    She has lost her bearings.
    Where are the stairs?
    She is scared to move.
    She can still hear that rumble ruuuuuuumble, and if she moves, the ghosts and/or axe murderers might notice her.
    She curls herself up as tight as she can, tucking her tail around her body, and holds perfectly still.
    After a minute or two, there is a loud buzz. The rumble stops.
    StingRay waits for it to start again, but it does not. Still, she is scared to look for the stairs. Instead she sits, tense and knotted, for hours, until the morning sun shines softly through the high basement windows and she hears footsteps on the floor above her.
    Feet come softly down to the basement and pad over to the dryer. The dad fills a basket with clothes and turns to take it upstairs. “Honey, your stingray is down here!” he calls in surprise.
    He picks StingRay up and brushes some dust from her plush, then places her on top of the basket. Bouncing up the steps, two at a time, he delivers StingRay into the waiting arms of the Little Girl.
    “Oh, sweetie sweetie!” cries the Girl, hugging StingRay. “I thought you were lost! I looked for you all over this morning.” She plants a kiss on StingRay’s head. “Now, remember this from now on: don’t go in the basement or I will miss you, miss you! I need you very much.”
    The