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WingZ · Site Admin Joined: 15 Aug 2008 Posts: 127

Rachel Blanchard’s greatest misfortune in life was that she lived next door to Scotty Morrison. A dark-haired demon-child, Scotty never seemed to tire of finding new ways to be mean to her. He would collect inchworms and spiders (and once even a frog) and chase after her with them at the playground at school. He would holler like an orangutan whenever she went outside to play until he got her attention – at which point he would sneer and say, “what are YOU looking at?” He was dirty and rotten to everyone except her parents, who thought he was pleasant as could be and never believed her when she complained about him. “Someday, he’ll get it,” Rachel told herself, but some day never came.

Though she was hard-pressed to admit it, Rachel could remember when Scotty wasn’t bad. They used to play together when they were little – say around 4. He was nice then; sometimes, the closest thing she had to a friend. But then Scotty decided it wasn’t cool to be friends with a girl, even a girl he’d known his whole life. He started hanging around Curt and Joey and Stu, some of the worst kids in the neighborhood. Together, they would do all kinds of bad things she couldn’t bring herself to talk about. And she hated him for it.

Sometimes, Rachel wondered if it was really fair to hate Scotty. Hadn’t she found her own friends too? And hadn’t they all agreed boys were gross? And didn’t they all make fun of Scotty and his friends when they were up in Rachel’s tree house? And didn’t they call the boys names when they were being chased and picked on? No, she thought, it wouldn’t be fair to blame Scotty, because I’m turning bad too.

And with that in mind, she set about making a truce: she would stop calling Scotty and his friends names and they would leave him alone. She might have gone through with it too, if he hadn’t gone ahead and decapitated her favorite doll right in front of her.

It was a hot summer day, a “real scorcher” in the outmoded lexicon of Rachel’s dad. She was up in the tree house with three of her friends: Anna Patel, Susan Kirkland and Patty Mombarak. All three girls were eight years old, though Susan, the biggest, looked about 10 and Rachel was mistaken for 6 just the other day. The girls did what one might expect them to do on such a hot day: they envisioned themselves someplace cooler.

“When I grow up, I’m moving to Alaska,” said Patty.

“Well, when I grow up, I’m moving to the North Pole,” said Susan.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” said Amy. “My Nana says India is way hotter than this.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Susan. “How hot?”

“A million jillian degrees. And that’s not even in the summer!”

“No way!”

“Howabout you, Rachel?” Patty asked. “Where are you going to cool down?”

“Hmm…” she said, curling her lip in contemplation. “I dunno. The top of a mountain, maybe. I bet its real cool up there. But only if Becky Sue wants to come with me. Right, Becky Sue?”

Becky Sue was Rachel’s favorite doll: a pink-clad, plastic-skinned perpetual infant that she’d named herself several years ago. Her parents’ attempts to wean her off the doll and find her a more age-suitable toy were unsuccessful.

“You STILL have that thing?” Susan asked.

“Hey,” said Rachel. “Becky Sue isn’t a ‘thing’ ok. Now apologize?”

“Sorry, Becky Sue.”

Rachel’s mother had left a pitcher of water in the tree house so the girls would not dehydrate. They had, up until then, ignored it, but the heat and humidity was drawing their attention toward it in a hurry.

“I think we should go inside soon,” said Rachel. “If that’s OK with you.”

“I don’t see why…” Patty began.

She was interrupted by what sounded like a battle cry. The girls hurried to the side of the tree house. Looking out toward the Morrison’s, they could see Scotty and his friends climbing over the fence. They were shirtless and wore bandanas around their simian skulls. Their faces were marked with black ‘war paint’ and they wielded Nerf bows and arrows.

“Oh great,” said Susan.

“Why don’t they get lost?” asked Amy.

“I’d better see what they want,” Rachel volunteered.

She ducked her head out the window and called out to them. Instantly, she found four bows all pointed in her direction.

“Give us water,” Stu demanded.

“What makes you think we’ve got any?” Rachel asked.

“Give us water NOW,” Curt demanded.

“Don’t do it,” Patty said. “They’ll drink it all and probably smash the pitcher, too.”

“Wait,” said Susan. “I have an idea.”

The girls formed a quick huddle and Susan shared her idea with the rest. They all thought it was an excellent plan.

“OK,” said Rachel. “Stand by the bottom of the ladder and I’ll bring it down to you. But then you have to go.”

“Whatever,” said Joey.

The four boys moved closer until they were practically pressed against the tree house ladder. Before they knew what was happening, a torrent of cold water fell upon them, soaking them and sending a chill upon their uncovered flesh. They looked up to see all four girls laughing at them.

“You’re dead!” said Scotty.

“Dead meat,” Curt echoed.

They began firing arrows into the tree house and the girls shrieked. The arrows were only foam, but if they were launched hard enough, they could sting for quite awhile. Rachel was all too sorry to have found that out first hand about a year ago.

“What do we do now?” Patty asked, drawing them back into a huddle.

“Wait until they run out of arrows,” said Rachel.

“What if they try to come up here?” Amy asked.

“They wouldn’t,” said Susan.

“They already are,” said Patty.

The girls broke their huddle to find Scotty in the tree house. Before anyone could stop him, he seized Becky Sue and began to scramble down.

“Scotty!” Rachel called. “Give her back!”

“You want her back?” Scotty asked, his hair matted to his forehead and his skin slick with water and sweat. “I’ll give her back. RAAAAAR!”

And with that ferocious growl, he twisted the doll’s head right off. The boy’s then gathered their arrows and made their way back over the fence.

“Nice one,” Joey said, slapping Scotty’s back in passing.

Rachel was paralyzed. The doll that she had had since she was three, the doll she had named and cared for all those countless days, lay in two pieces in her backyard. It might have never been ‘alive’ to begin with, but it was surely dead now.

The girl was in tears, sobbing softly at first and then wailing loudly as she called Becky Sue’s name. Even as her friends gathered around to comfort her, all she could feel was a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

“We’ll get them back,” Susan said. “I promise.”

Little did Rachel know the worst of Becky Sue’s untimely demise was yet to come. When she broached the topic with her parents, she wasn’t expecting absolute justice, but she was counting on sympathy. She received precious little of either.

“That old thing?” her father asked. “I didn’t know you still had it.”

“Honey, I’m sure Scotty didn’t mean to do it,” her mother said. “He’s such a nice boy.”

“He’s not nice!” Rachel snapped. “He’s mean and he’s evil. I hate him! I wish he was dead!”

“Rachel Leah Blanchard! Don’t you EVER say that about another human being again. Do you hear me?”

Her eyes tearing up, she nodded.

“Well,” her father said with a sigh. “I guess we can get you a new doll…”

But Rachel didn’t want a new doll. She wanted Becky Sue.

And so, like Dumas’ titular count, she spent many an hour surmising a scheme for revenge. She thought about finding something of Scotty’s to break, but she then realized he broke enough of his own things as is. She thought about telling a lie to his parents to get him in trouble, but she wasn’t a very good liar. At long last, she wished she was a boy so she could simply beat him up, but she wasn’t. Susan could, maybe, but she couldn’t. Besides, beating him up wouldn’t bring Becky Sue back.

It was only after numerous tree house deliberations between her friends that an appropriate remedy to the Scotty situation began to manifest itself.

“Perfect,” said Amy.

“Yeah, perfect,” echoed Patty.

“He’s not going to know what hit him,” said Susan.

Rachel smiled and laughed along with them, but on the inside, she was already doubting herself.

Just under two weeks after Becky Sue met her gruesome end, Scotty and his friends were out playing ball in his backyard. In all of Rachel’s experience, they had never been able to make it through a full nine innings without the ball hitting a parked car, a neighbor’s tree, the side of a house or sometimes all three. This day would prove to be no exception.

Due to their limited number, the boys played a stripped-down version of the game. Three boys would be in the field (with one as a pitcher) at a time, while the batsman rotated. There were no teams. An inning ended after each boy had batted once. Whoever had the most runs at the end of the game got bragging rights.

It was Joey’s turn to pitch and Curtis, the biggest of the lot, was at the plate.

“Schwing, batta, batta,” Stu taunted from the infield. Scotty manned the outfield, defying Curtis to hit one to him.

“You just try it,” he said. “I’ll jump up and catch it one-handed.”

“The hell you will,” Curtis said, letting one pitch go by.

“Sure I will,” Scotty bragged.

“I don’t know,” said Stu. “Every time you say that, it goes out of the yard or into the street.”

“Hey, don’t encourage him,” Joey said. He threw a second strike by Curtis, who hacked and missed.

“All you guys shut up,” Curtis hissed. “This next one’s outta here.”

Joey threw outside, but Curtis leaned into the pitch. It went sailing high passed Scotty’s head, over the fence and into the Blanchards’ yard.

“See ya!” Curtis bragged as he began to round the bases.

“Aw, shit,” Scotty said. He climbed over the fence into the Blanchards’ yard, but the ball was nowhere to be found.

“Looking for something?” Rachel called from the tree house. She held out the ball and waved it so he could see.

“Give it back,” he called.

“Gee, I don’t know,” she said.

“Come on,” he pleaded.

“You want it, come get it.”

“Fine.”

And so Scotty climbed the latter, without hesitation, because he knew that as much as the girls hated him, they feared him as well. There was nothing they could do to him that wouldn’t result in him paying them back tenfold…or so he thought.

He’d just reached the top of the ladder when four sets of hands grabbed him and hauled him in.

“Hey!” he protested. “What the…”

They pulled him to the floor and Susan sat on him. No matter how hard he squirmed, he couldn’t shake her.

“Get his shorts,” she said.

Rachel and Amy took hold of his flailing legs and began to pull his shorts off.

“You’d better stop it or…” Scotty said.

“Oh, be quiet,” said Patty, shoving the ball into his mouth and holding it in place with her hand.

Within a minute, they had Scotty stripped down to his underwear. His dinosaur print underwear that was discolored near the fly and had skid marks near the seat. He turned about a thousand shades of red when the girls pointed that out and started laughing.

“Got the camera?” Amy asked.

“Right here,” Rachel said. She produced a Polaroid and snapped a picture of Scotty with his juvenile underwear exposed.

“Mmmmrph!” he complained. “Grmn mrrph!”

“One more,” Rachel said. They flipped him over and got a shot of him from the other side before letting him go. He spat the ball out and looked at them with raw, unadulterated rage.

“Hey Scotty!” Stu called. “You get lost or something?”

“I…uh…” he began, realizing that he was still without his him.

“He’s up here!” Patty called back.

“Shhh!” Scotty hissed.

“Want these?” Susan asked, dangling his shorts in front of him and yanking them back when he reached.

“Give ‘em back,” he pleaded.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you think, Rachel?”

“I think we should keep them AND we should show these pictures to everyone at school. I bet his friends would love to see his cute little dinosaur pants.”

Scotty went from red to white as a stick of chalk. “You wouldn’t,” he said, his lip trembling. “Would you?”

“I will unless you come back up here tomorrow and do exactly as we say.”

“Scotty?” Stu called again. “Where are ya, man?”

“Fine,” Scotty said.

“What?” Susan asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said ‘fine’,” he repeated.

She handed him his shorts back with the understanding that they would keep the pictures. He quickly dressed and, ball in hand, scrambled back down the ladder.

“What took you so long?” Stu asked.

“Nothing,” Scotty grumbled as they climbed back over the fence.

High in their tree house perch, the girls couldn’t stop laughing.

The next day came and the girls took to the tree house as usual. There was no sign of Scotty or any of his friends in the neighboring yard.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Amy asked.

“Yeah,” said Patty. “He could be sick or something. Or pretending.”

“He’ll be here,” Susan said. “Trust me.”

Just when they were getting ready to give up on him, they caught sight of him climbing over the fence.

“You’re late,” Rachel said as he scurried up the ladder.

“Sorry,” he said. “Stu came over and I had to wait ‘til he left.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Susan asked him.

He shrugged.

“You broke my doll,” Rachel said.

“So?”

She kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said. “It was just a stupid doll.”

“No it wasn’t!” she yelled. “It was my doll! It was my favorite and you killed it!”

“Geez, I’m sorry, OK,” he said. “I’ll…um…buy you a new one.”

“Yeah?” Susan asked. “With what? You got money?”

“No, but…”

“I thought not.”

“That’s OK,” Rachel said. “You don’t need money to get me a new doll.”

“What? You want me to steal one?” asked Scotty.

Amy and Patty were already giggling.

“Not exactly,” said Rachel. “I want you to BE my doll…until I get a new one.”

Scotty was wide-eyed in disbelief. “You’re crazy,” he said. “No way!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to show the pictures,” Patty said.

“I’m sure everyone will looove to see them,” Amy added.

Scotty sighed, defeated. “OK,” he said. “What do I hafta do?”

The rules the girls laid out for him were simple. While he was playing as a doll, he had to do whatever they said. He wasn’t allowed to refuse. If they ordered him to suck his thumb, he would suck his thumb. If they ordered him to crawl around, he would crawl around. If he did this for one week or until Rachel got a new doll (whichever came first), the girls would tear up the pictures. It was humiliating, Scotty reasoned, but at least nobody would know.

“Good,” said Susan. “Now it’s time for your diaper.”

Having a baby brother allowed Susan to help Rachel ‘accessorize’ her new doll. She brought diapers, baby powder, a bottle and a pacifier. If she had any reason to believe it would fit him, she would have brought a baby romper as well.

“What?!” a shocked Scotty asked. “No. I’m not doing it. I’m not wearing a stupid diaper.”

“Hey,” Susan said. “You agreed.”

“Screw you!” he said, shoving her. All four girls once again grabbed him and pulled him to the floor.

“Looks like somebody needs to be taught a lesson,” Susan said.

He was still fighting when they put him across her lap. They pulled down his pants, revealing yet another skid-marked pair of underpants.

“Eww,” Amy said. “Don’t you boys ever wipe?”

Scotty continue to protest and curse at them as his underpants went down…and then they froze. The girls found themselves staring at a pinkened bottom.

“Did your daddy spank you?” Rachel asked.

“My mom,” Scotty said, his voice hoarse. “For lying to her. When my dad does it, it’s worse. Like when after he found out I broke your doll.”

The girls collectively agreed that no further discipline was necessary. They rolled Scotty onto his back and got his diaper ready.

“Please,” Scotty said, trying in vain to cover himself. “Don’t do this.”

“Hush now, baby,” Patty said, putting a pacifier between his lips. They took hold of his legs again, poured baby powder on his bottom and set him down atop the opened diaper. Next, they pulled the sides toward the center and taped it shut.

“There,” said Rachel. “Much better.”

Scotty’s face was still red, but he was silent and still. He looked at the tree house floor, humbled and humiliated.

“Well?” Patty asked a short while later. “What should we make him do first?”

“I know,” said Amy. “Let’s make him crawl. Crawl, baby doll!”

Having no say in the matter, Scotty got on all floors and crawled to the other end of the tree house. He could feel the girls’ eyes upon him and their laughter burned his ears.

“We didn’t say ‘stop’,” Susan told him.

Scotty continued to crawl, his knees rubbing uncomfortably against the floor, his diaper crinkling loudly with every inch he moved. He crawled until he was sweating and knew every inch of that floor by heart. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly crawl any more, the girls gave him permission to stop.

“Hmm,” Rachel wondered. “He looks a little thirsty. Maybe we should feed him.”

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “You think he deserves it?”

“Why not?” asked Amy. “He’s been good.”

They produced a bottle filled with apple juice and waved it in front of him. Scotty moved to take it and Susan slapped his hand away.

“No,” she said. “You let US feed you.”

They took his pacifier out and made him rest his head of each of their laps. They would give him a few sips and then make him change places. By the time the bottle was finished, he had been over everyone’s lap at least once.

“Well?” Susan asked. “What do you say?”

“Thanks,” Scotty whispered.

“Louder,” said Rachel. “And in baby talk.”

“Uh…tank oo,” Scotty said.

The girls giggled and Rachel felt something like warmth inside.

Not long thereafter, the girls noticed Scotty squirming around. He didn’t dare move from his spot, but he shifted: left to right, right to left.

“What’s he doing?” Amy asked.

“I dunno,” said Patty. “I think he has to pee.”

“Let’s check him,” said Susan. “Come here, baby doll.”

Scotty trembled as he approached. He was blushing furiously and breathing hard through his nose.

“Are you wet?” Rachel asked him, giving the front of his diaper a brief pat.

“That’s not how you do it,” Susan said. She grabbed Scotty by the arm, pulled him forward and stuck a finger inside his diaper. “There. He’s dry.”

“Do you hafta go?” Rachel asked him.

His eyes tearing, Scotty nodded. “Please don’t make me,” he begged.

“It’s OK,” Rachel said. “Go in your diaper, baby doll, and then we’ll change you.”

He continued to tremble, shaking his head. Rachel fetched his pacifier, put it in his mouth and held him while he peed. When they checked him again a moment later, his diaper was wet and he was crying.

“Aww,” Patty said. “I’ll bet he needs changing.”

They set him down and took his wet diaper off. He was then wiped, powdered and diapered anew. Scotty looked around, baffled. They hadn’t laughed at him. They didn’t laugh when he wet himself. They didn’t laugh when they changed his diaper. They even didn’t laugh when they saw his pee-pee. They were, evidently, a lot better than he’d expected…and perhaps deserved.

“Thank you,” he said. This time, nobody stopped to correct him.

Scotty returned to the tree house every day that week. He got used to the feedings and the diaper changes, though the crawling took its toll on his knees. Eventually, he stopped looking so sour about his treatment and just accepted it. And the girls accepted him. Whatever menace he was posed was soon forgotten, as they took turns mothering him. By the week’s end, he was as harmless as a real doll. He still put on a bad-boy front when he was with his friends, but when he was up in that tree house, he was their sweet baby and nothing more.

It was the final day of his baby doll treatment and Scotty had wet his diaper for the last time. The girls changed him and handed him his underpants back.

“You’d better do a better job of wiping,” Amy told him. “Or your mommy is gonna diaper you for real.”

“No she won’t,” Scotty said, dressing himself in a hurry.

“Remember these?” Susan asked, waving the pictures in front of him. This time, when he reached, she let him have them. He ripped them up right in front of them.

“You guys won’t say anything, right?” he asked.

“Of course not,” said Rachel, with the understanding he’d leave them alone.

And with that, he scrambled down the ladder.

“Bye, Scotty,” Rachel called after him. For that one week, he’d done the impossible: he’d made her forget Becky Sue.

By the time school started, not only was Becky Sue forgotten, but so was Scotty and his baby games. Rachel had homework, friends and Becky Jr. (her new doll) to keep her company. Needless to say, it came as quite a surprise when she found Scotty hiding in her tree house one day.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m in trouble,” he said. “’Cuz I got a bad grade.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I was...uh...kinda hoping I could be your doll again.”

“What?” she asked. “You mean you actually WANT me to baby you?”

“Forget it,” he said, blushing. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Hang on…”

She climbed down the ladder and raced into the house, returning moments later with a towel and some duct tape.

“It’s not the real thing, but it will hafta do.”

“Thanks,” he said.

She diapered him and let him put his head on her lap as he drifted off to sleep. From that day forward, he would come up to the tree house every now and then and they would play their baby games. Sometimes, they would switch and she would be the doll, but mostly it was Scotty, the bad boy with the wicked sneer and the inchworms on his thumb, who was diapered and cuddled. And when it came time for girls and boys to stop thinking they each had cooties, Scotty became her practice kissing doll as well. By then, Rachel Blanchard had learned that living next door to Scotty Morrison wasn’t so bad after all.