Toys Come Home Read Free Page B

Girl smells like maple syrup and soap. Her arms are warm on StingRay’s cold, tight body.
    This is what StingRay has been looking for.
    Somebody to love.
    Somebody who will love her back.
    Who will be her family.
    Of course, the Girl is it. Of course she is.
    StingRay should have known that all along.
    She relaxes into the Girl’s embrace and feels the beautiful day stretch before her as she is carried into the kitchen to watch waffles being made.

CHAPTER TWO

The Story of an Ear
    A s winter fades and spring blooms, StingRay spends most of her time indoors—learning to play checkers against herself, watching TV, playing with the Girl, listening to stories, nodding while Bobby Dot lectures.
    Now the rains have stopped and the air is hot with the smell of earth and grass. It is finally summer. Today StingRay, Sheep, and Bobby Dot are in the backyard. There is a cluster of flowering rosebushes by the fence. The songs of birds and the buzz of mosquitoes.
    The Girl and her mother go in and out of the house, bringing lemonade, a picnic blanket, and a parasol. The sun is warm and sinking in the sky.
    A big kid comes over to play with the Girl. She is called Bethany and her hands seem very large to StingRay. She can stand on her hands, this big kid. And do a cartwheel.
    Her voice is too loud.
    The Girl and Bethany dig some holes and make roads for a couple of toy cars. They turn somersaults while the mommy reads a book.
    “Let’s play ball!” says Bethany, her hair full of grass. (Sheep is eyeing the grass and making tiny, almost invisible chewing motions with her jaw.)
    “I don’t have a ball,” says the Girl.
    “Everybody has a ball,” says Bethany.
    “I don’t.”
    (What’s a ball? StingRay wonders.)
    “We had a ball,” says the mommy. “But we lost it at the park. Why don’t you toss one of your animals?”
    Bethany grabs Sheep and throws her up in the air, catching her neatly in both hands.
    (A ball must be a kind of animal, thinks StingRay.)
    “Maybe not Sheep,” says the mom. “She’s old. And you could hurt yourself on her wheels.”
    “She’s a flying sheep!” cries Bethany, tossing Sheep to the Girl.
    (A ball is a flying animal. StingRay thinks she knows all about it now.)
    The mommy goes inside, muttering something about maybe having a tennis ball somewhere that would make a better choice.
    Bethany throws Sheep. Blop!
    The Girl throws Sheep back. Blop!
    And again. And again.
    Sheep is frightened. StingRay can see it. Her hard black eyes bulge in terror and her neck is tucked as tight into her woolly body as she can get it.
    Blop.
    Aaaaaaand blop.
    Aaaaaaand blop. Sometimes they drop her, or miss the catch entirely. Then Bethany and the Girl run laughing across the lawn, grab Sheep from the ground, and—
    Blop! Blop!
    Keep playing.
    “They shouldn’t do that!” StingRay whispers to Bobby Dot.
    Bobby Dot grunts.
    “Really!” StingRay is outraged. “It’s like they don’t even know she has feelings!”
    “Better her than me,” the walrus whispers.
    “Not better her than you. She’s old! She could break.”
    “On the contrary,” says Bobby Dot. “She’s survived for years. Sheep is built to last.”
    “Shouldn’t we stop it?” says StingRay.
    “What can we do?” says Bobby Dot. “Anyway, she probably likes it.”
    But StingRay can tell that Sheep does not.
    Blop.
    Aaaaaaand blop.
    Aaaaaaand bang! Sheep is thrown too far and too hard! She hits the wooden fence and falls down—scrabble, scrabble, scriiiiitch—through the fat yellow blossoms and into the arms of the rosebush.
    All is silent. The children walk over and have a look.
    “It’s thorny,” Bethany announces. “Your mom is going to have to get her out.”
    The Girl looks at Sheep, hanging in a tangle of branches. “Is she okay?”
    “She’s fine,” says Bethany.
    “I think she’s hurt,” says the Girl. “I’m sorry, Sheep.”
    “She’s fine.”
    “Kids! Dinner’s ready,” calls the Girl’s father,