Chapter Three
The Doll in the Spare Room
The next day was the final day of school before the holiday break, and Christina Anderson was feeling especially sad. If they hadn't moved, she would be getting ready for the final rehearsal of "A Christmas Carol." It was to be a dress rehearsal, and she could imagine herself in the long white, silver-trimmed gown and sparkling tiara that were part of the Spirit of Christmas Present's image.
Christina's mood didn't improve later that evening when her mother scolded her for playing in the spare bedroom.
"Chrissy," her mom began, with Christina grimacing at the name and the tone of voice. "I told you to stay out of that bedroom until we get all the boxes unpacked. There are a lot of breakables still in there."
"But, Mom, I haven't been in there. Well, maybe just one little peek, last night when I thought I heard something again," Christina replied.
"Oh? Then how do you explain this?" Diane Anderson asked, holding up Christina's favorite doll. It was a Victorian-styled doll with a hand-painted, green-eyed, rosy-cheeked porcelain face, silky auburn hair, blue dress with red piping, and little patent leather shoes. The doll had been a special Christmas gift two years ago, from Christina's grandmother Anna. She had found it in an upscale gift boutique and repeatedly told Christina that she had simply fallen in love with the doll, a replica of the fancy dolls of the turn of the century.
In honor of the season, Christina had named the doll Holly.
"I found her behind some boxes up there," Christina's mother continued.
"But, Mom, I haven't been in there and I don't know how Holly got in there. I really don't. You know she's special. I always keep her on my dresser. Besides, I wouldn't go in there anyway. It's way too creepy." Christina went on to tell her mother about the noises and her attempts to investigate.
"It sounded like a little girl singing and giggling, Mom." There, she'd said it, no matter what her mother might think. Somehow, having told someone else made the whole thing seem even weirder.
Christina could tell from her mother's face that she didn't really believe the story.
"I think you spent a little too much time on A Christmas Carol and all that Ghost of Christmas Present stuff before we left Michigan, young lady," her mother said. "And, don't try to change the subject. We were talking about staying out of the spare room and putting your things back where they belong."
"It's not the Ghost of Christmas Present, it's the Spirit of Christmas Present," Christina corrected, changing the subject. "And, I really did hear something. Just for once, I wish you'd believe me."
"Ghost or Spirit, it's still your imagination, her mom said. "Now, just put your doll away, and please don't play in the spare room anymore."
Face flushed and holding back angry tears, Christina rushed up to her room and told her imaginary friend Sarah all about the incident.
That night, Christina again had trouble sleeping and, about two in the morning, she heard the giggling. This time she immediately woke her parents.
"Dad. Mom. There's someone in the spare room."
"Oh, Christina, you're just dreaming," her dad said.
'No, really, just come and listen."
Shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at each other, her parents trudged down the hall to the spare bedroom. But, when they got there, the room was silent.
"Chrissy, we know you miss Michigan, but aren't you carrying this a little too far, her mom said, turning on the lights as the three of them entered the spare bedroom. They saw nothing but cardboard boxes.
"I did hear something. I really did," Christina protested before her parents could even speak.
"Well, I think it was just a bad dream. I know you're upset about moving and all, but you've got to get over it," her dad said.
Christina was on the verge of tears.
"I tell you what, if it will make you feel better, tomorrow we'll take a good look around the room," her mom promised.
"Okay. Now, let's all get some sleep," Carl Anderson added quickly, closing off the subject.
"But, but ...." Christina started to protest, then thought better of it. Back in bed, she related the events of the evening to Sarah, ending with a terse "And, of course, Mom just had to get in the last word."
Christina then drifted off to sleep, somewhat comforted by the fact that Sarah understood the unfairness of it all.
It was about 4:00 a.m. when Christina again heard the giggling from the spare room. This time she didn't tell anyone. She just pulled the covers up over her head and hung on to the flashlight she had hidden under her pillow. How she hated this place. This was going to be the worst Christmas ever.
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