“According to the fliers, the assembly lasts from twelve thirty to two,” said Quackerjack. “So the last kids should be in the gym right now. We’ll give them a couple minutes so we know no one’s wandering around loose in any other parts of the building, then head in.”
The Voice glanced around them. The three super villains, with a batch of Quackerjack’s novelty teeth, were standing behind St. Canard Elementary, near the doors to the cafeteria, which was empty at present. “Man, I feel kinda weird, attacking my old elementary school.”
Quackerjack gasped. “Wow! You used to go to St. Canard Elementary?” He sounded excited.
“Yeah,” said The Voice, surprised by his enthusiasm. “You?
Quackerjack grinned at her. “Nope.”
“Oh,” said The Voice.
He shook Mister Banana Brain at her, who said, “Not a hope, dope.
The jester then put the doll away and looked at the toy watch on his wrist. “’Twelve forty. Let’s go.” He pushed in the cafeteria doors, entering the building.
Megavolt followed, with The Voice close behind. As they entered he said, “I did.”
“What?” she asked.
“I said I used to go here when I was little.”
“Oh. Hey, really? Wow.”
“Yeah,” said Megavolt.
The Voice shook her head. “Wow. Hey, I didn’t know this building was that old.”
“Excuse me?” Megavolt stopped so abruptly she almost walked into him and turned towards her, looking offended. “Just how old do you think I am?!”
“Uh….” she said, laughing nervously and backing up a few steps.
“Hey, will you two come on?” called Quackerjack from up ahead. He couldn’t really hear what they were talking about, but it was probably something mushy. What a weird development this was: Megavolt getting a girlfriend. And one that didn’t require batteries, either. Wow. He had sure never seen that one coming. “You can make out some other time!” he said.
Quackerjack’s voice was muffled as he turned the corner. “What’d he say?” asked Megavolt, scratching his head.
“Something about taking time, I think. I dunno. We’d better catch up.”
Blissfully unaware of the jester’s conjectures, Megavolt and The Voice went on to join the impatient Quackerjack.
They were laughing their fool heads off at her. Students, janitors—even some of the students were giggling. Those who didn’t look completely lost, that is. Gosalyn felt the urge to scream with frustration. What a dirty trick on the part of the English Department! “Vengeance of the Blood-Sucking Mutated Zombie Slugs From the Planet Ferbilax” was not a “comic essay”. It was not “a hilarious piece of writing by one of this school’s students”. It was a detailed and thought-out analysis of one of this century’s great cinema classics, right up there with “Voracious Vampire Space Carrots”. She wasn’t up here to make people laugh but to make them aware!
Only professionalism stopped Gosalyn from taking her essay and flinging it in the faces of her audience. Instead, she tried to imbue her sentences with more passion, more gusto—the rage of a true champion of the arts.
“Gutenbird’s magnificent debut is seldom viewed in its proper status as one of the greatest in the B-horror genre,” she said, glaring at her listeners over the top of her paper. “Few non-horror buffs have learned to appreciate its unique texture. They point out its flaws in terms of acting, set, and costume design. What they don’t realize is that “Blood-Sucking Mutated Zoooooombie Slugs” isn’t about tastefulness! True cinematic brilliance isn’t to be hindered by the simple question of quality!” She gesticulated wildly as she spoke. The audience only laughed harder. Gosalyn wondered how this could possibly get any worse.
“Everybody, freeze!”
Gosalyn only gaped for a second before she rolled her eyes. Typical. “Yeah, I guess this would be how,” she muttered. Folding her arms sullenly across her chest, she watched as Megavolt, Quackerjack and some other villainous-type person made their big-deal dramatic entrance, followed by a number of Quackerjack’s novelty teeth.
Megavolt scratched his head. “Uh. Ok, all of you sitting, stay sitting; all of you standing, get sitting.”
“Excuse me, pardon me, sorry,” said the avian female in the trench coat, politely herding the adults into a line against the wall that faced the third graders. “Yes, thank you. Uh…huh. Right, that’s good.”
“Hoo hoo hoo hoo! Hey, I told you this would be easy,” said Quackerjack. “Hello, playmates!” he exclaimed, grinning maniacally at the children. They cowered away. “Oh, hey, don’t be like that. I’ve got some nice toys with me for all of you!”
“Don’t you listen to him, guys! Anyone who plays with his toys should have their head examined. If it isn’t blown off first.” Gosalyn scowled at him.
“Oh great, it’s her,” muttered Quackerjack at the sight of the familiar redheaded duckling. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, genius, could it be because I go to school here?”
Megavolt, who had been watching, muttered, “I always figured she was too much of a delinquent to be going to school.”
Quackerjack stuck Mister Banana Brain in Gosalyn’s face. “Well, Belle, you could at least have had the decency to play hooky today or something! Now we’re going to have to…take “care” of you.”
The jester rocked back on his heels and heaved a mock sigh. “I’m afraid my little friend here is right. Hmm. Now what would be excruciatingly long and painful, whilst amusing for the masses?” He tapped his large bill thoughtfully.
Gosalyn folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, I am sooo scared,” she said. “Think fast!” She suddenly darted for the right—running right into the third member of the super villain’s group. Gosalyn gave an “Oof!” and sat down hard on the floor.
“Ouch! Hey, are you all right, sport? You’re gonna bust a tail feather doing that sort of thing.” The Voice reached down and took hold of Gosalyn’s shoulder, pulling her to her feet. “There we go. Um. You didn’t hurt yourself or anything, did you?”
“We can only hope,” said Megavolt.
Gosalyn threw off the super villain’s hand. “Get bent, bad guy!” She glared up at her suspiciously before her eyes suddenly widened. “Hey, you’re that new villain that D—that Darkwing’s been fighting. The Voice.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s me. Wow. You know me?” The Voice asked, flattered.
There was an unholy gleam in Gosalyn’s eyes. “Oh, I sure do,” she said, grinning, as she drew her foot back and kicked the super villain with all her might in the left shin.
There seemed to be a long pause before the reaction came. The Voice’s pupils shrank to stunned pinpricks. The next minute she let out with a high-frequency yowl that made everyone in the room wince, and commenced hopping around on one foot.
Quackerjack sighed. “Oh for goodness’ sake, you’re doing it all wrong. Here.” He grabbed Gosalyn abruptly by the scruff of her shirt and hefted her into the air. “This is the correct method for dealing with pesky interfering brats.”
Gosalyn hung, kicking and screaming, from his grip, her limbs peddling in the air furiously as she tried to struggle free. “Let go of me! I’ll show ya pesky and interfering!” She swung a fist in vain, spinning with the force as she did so.
“Ow! Ow! She just—ow!” The Voice was yelping as she continued to hop up and down on her left foot, hugging her right knee the whole time.
Megavolt, who was standing by the teachers, shook his head as he watched the fiasco. Then he remembered what he was doing. “Oh, right. Let’s see, I guess I’d better ask you to fork over all your cash now.” The teachers all looked at each other, seeming amused at his statement. “Well, come on,” said Megavolt, the tip of his index finger glowing.
“What cash?” asked one elderly lady.
“Very funny, Miss….“ Megavolt blinked at the photo-ID pin she was wearing on her blouse. “Miss Oppenheimer? Hey, I had you for second grade. Remember me?”
The teacher squinted at him. “Elmo? Little Elmo Sputterspark? Well, really, what a surprise. I always wondered what had become of you.” She clucked disapprovingly. “Can’t say I expected this.”
Megavolt grinned cheerfully. “Oookay, trip down memory lane’s over. Give me everything you have.” She shrugged, putting her hand in her skirt pocket and pulling out a handkerchief and eighty-five cents. “That’s it? Alright. You—open that purse.” The younger woman next to her did as she was told. A moth flew out. Megavolt deflated a little. “The rest of you?”
A librarian spoke up. “Well, what did you expect? We’re teachers. Since when do we have money?” Her fellows laughed in agreement.
Megavolt cursed. “Drat. Stupid low teaching salaries. Come on, where are all our taxes going?”
The teachers, of one accord, jerked their thumbs in the direction of Principal Farnsworth, who looked around for moment before pointing to herself. “Who, me?” she asked, incredulous. “You’ve got to be joking.” There was a sudden irritated surge of electricity along the twin flanges on Megavolt’s sparkplug helmet. “But if you want to check, here are the keys to my office!” she amended hastily, fishing them out and tossing them to him. “School safe is behind the portrait of the founder, combination is 698.”
Megavolt gave them a little jingle. “Great. Quackerjack—hey, Quackerjack, could you quit beating up the six-year-old for a minute?”
“Beating up?” yelped Quackerjack, who had made the mistake of releasing Gosalyn. She had promptly jumped on his back and was currently pummeling the back of his head as he tried in vain to get her off of him.
“Six-year-old?!” yelled Gosalyn, insulted.
Megavolt sighed. “You’re a budding young dogooder, right?” he asked her. “Stop hitting him or I’ll fry this teacher.” He pointed back at the group of adults without looking at whom he had selected.
“Hmm, that could ruin my grades for the year…then again, they’re already pretty bad….” Gosalyn debated to herself out loud. “Oh, fine.” She jumped off of Quackerjack. The annoyed jester slapped a set of cuffs on her wrists.
“Ahem,” came a voice from behind Megavolt.
“Whoops. Sorry, Miss Oppenheimer,” he said sheepishly, lowering his finger. “You know I wouldn’t really have done it.” Thinking about the A- she’d given him on a science paper once, he added, “Not for long, anyway.”
“Hmm,” she said, giving him a distrustful look.
Turning to Quackerjack, “You keep an eye on things here. Voice? You’re going to the Principal’s Office.”
“But she started it,” whined the super villain, rubbing her leg where Gosalyn had kicked it.
Megavolt sighed, grabbed The Voice by the arm and started pulling her along after him.
Joshua looked down at his knuckles, which were rubbing the arm of the chair. They were about five minutes into the interview and he was coming along slowly. He wasn’t actually an unwilling witness, just a very miserable one. “Heron’s not a bad kid. She really isn’t. It’s just that she’s made some bad choices.”
“Have you seen her lately?” asked Darkwing.
“Not since I lent her some money when she first left. ‘Bout the time I figured she should start running out, I get this anonymous package in my mail, paying me back. Bills in rubber bands. That was when I started getting really concerned. I couldn’t think where she’d have gotten the money. And then there was that weird stuff in the paper ‘bout this person called The Voice and I started getting my suspicions….”
“How about your parents? Has she been in contact with them recently?”
Joshua looked queasy. “Dad retired this past year and they moved. Really obscure out-of-the-way little place. They don’t know a thing about what’s going on. They just know what I tell them, and I tell them what I know that will keep them happy. This is gonna kill them.”
The Voice was limping. Megavolt glanced at her. “Hey, you shouldn’t take it personally. She’s part of Darkwing’s little fan club, after all.”
“But she kicked me!”
“You’re a super villain. It’s all part of the job description—every great villain has to be kicked by some spunky child protagonist-type at one point or another. The more often, the better.”
“Yeah? Well, I think I’m gonna bruise,” said The Voice ruefully. “So now what are we doing?”
“We’re getting the cash from the school safe.”
“What’d you need me for, then? I mean, you can do that on your own, and shouldn’t there be at least two people watching the gym? A second person who is, ahem, NOT Quackerjack?” She grinned.
“Um, Quackerjack can handle it,” said Megavolt evasively. A little too casually, he went on, “You, um, heard the principal give the combination, right?”
“Sure. Course, I was in the throes of agony at the time….” She frowned in memory, then her face lightened as she looked at some stairs they were passing. “Oh, hey, look, they never painted over that stupid dancing cucumber. Major cool!”
“Yeah? But you heard what the combination was, right?”
“Wish they could’ve gotten rid of that darn onion, though. Um….” The Voice blinked. She gave him an odd look but answered, “698, I think. Right?”
“Yeah, right, of course,” said Megavolt quickly. “I was just checking that you heard her.”
“Uh huh.” She examined his face closely. “Uh, it’s in the principal’s office, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So…didn’t we just pass the principal’s office?”
Megavolt came to a comical dead halt. “Right. Let’s back that up, shall we?” He turned around and she did so as well. “Third door down?”
“The fourth one.”
“Right.” He started towards it.
“On the LEFT side.”
“Gotcha,” he said, changing direction without even a pause.
The Voice shook her head as she followed him. “I’m starting to see why you wanted me to come with you,” she muttered to herself. He’d probably never have been able to find it on his own….
Megavolt stopped beside the door and began fiddling with the keys for a moment before finding the right one, which he slipped into the keyhole. He jiggled it around for a few moments. The lock failed to turn. Finally growing exasperated, he threw the keys on the ground, took a step back and zapped the lock until it exploded, booted the door open with his foot and headed into the room.
As he scanned the place he started to open his mouth. “Behind the portrait of the founder,” said The Voice before he could say anything. They were both looking at the same large picture of the authoritarian-looking mustachioed dog person. The background of the portrait was a gaudy and inexplicable red, and lent an air of menace to the picture. “Doubtless a work that has struck fear in the hearts of many erring young souls,” she remarked in a very familiar voice.
“Thank you, “Darkwing”,” said Megavolt sardonically, not taking his eyes off the portrait. He had become enough accustomed to The Voice’s impersonations that he no longer jumped when she came out with them. Not every time, anyway.
“That’s pretty big…not to mention all that fake gold crud on the frame has gotta weigh a ton,” The Voice mused thoughtfully.
“Yeah.” He took one corner and she took the other. Together they maneuvered it down to lay on the large desk. The door to the safe was built into the wall behind it.
The Voice stepped towards it and leaned against the wall, turning the dial. Megavolt watched as the door to the safe swung open and she started lifting out documents. Reaching into the far back, she pulled out a number of plastic zip-loc baggies with hundred dollar bills in them. She tossed him one. “Voila.”
“Mercy buckets,” he replied, opening the baggie and starting to count out the money.
“Eeyew.” She shook her head as an expression of pain crossed her face.
“So sue me. I never took French.”
“What did you take?” The Voice asked, opening one bag with a pop.
“Calculus, Computer Science, Physics….”
“All the nerdy subjects.” She smiled to show she was joking as she flipped through a wad of bills.
Megavolt wasn’t offended, only mildly amused. “Nerdy? Ok, so what were you, smart-aleck?”
“Uh, Art, English, Theater….”
“That’s nerdy,” he said.
“No, that’s freakish.” She lifted her head and began reciting, in a Valley Girl-type accent, “Freaks are, like, yer average volatile creative types, y’know? whereas nerds are, like, yer average mathematically and scientifically gifted geniuses. You’ve gotta get with contemporary teen lingo, dude.”
Megavolt shook his head. “Not at this point, thank you very much. I didn’t like my teens very much. Every year that passes puts them that much further behind.”
“Well, that was, like, disgustingly poetic.” She dropped the accent and used her normal voice. “How much you got?”
“’Bout thirty-four hundred so far.” He tapped his pile of cash and looked at her questioningly.
“Twenty-eight,” The Voice said in response. “And that’s just two of these bags. Let’s try and put it all together in one big one here—make it easier if we’re keeping it together in one place.” She glanced over, picked up the dustbin next to the principal’s desk and dumped out the contents before pulling out the plastic liner. As she began pushing cash into the bag, The Voice was surprised and gratified at the amount of money they were ending up with. “Ok, so maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. I guess I wasn’t expecting a big take. With this much, you’d think they could afford better food in the cafeteria.”
“Cafeteria food has to be foul. It’s the rule.” Megavolt shrugged.
“Yeah? I’m also wondering if the principal hasn’t been saving herself a little something on the side. Either way, this is a decent amount of cash. Quackerjack isn’t as big a moron as he seems.”
Megavolt gave her a look. “Oh, I assure you, he is. You think he cares less about whether we get a good take?” He hopped up on the desk and stood up to unscrew the light bulb in the ceiling.
The Voice shielded her eyes against the sudden blaze as blue incandescent electricity sizzled along Megavolt’s body, and his skeleton flashed a couple times through his skin. The lighting in the room dimmed briefly. The Voice waited a moment or so for the high-pitched screaming to stop. Finally he let go of the bulb and stood there, charred and blackened and slightly smoldering.
Megavolt coughed. “Ow.”
“That looked pretty painful,” remarked The Voice.
“Yeah. Next time, remind me to go hit the off-switch first.”
“Sure thing. So how’s that, then? I mean, about Quackerjack.”
Megavolt dropped down to a squatting position, resting his elbows on his knees as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He was matter-of-fact. “Quackerjack’s in it for the fun. Plain and simple. He enjoys toys and chaos, and this is just one more way to get them. Money’s nice, but only as a means for more toys and more chaos. He’ll be glad to get the money, but just getting to halt the educational process for a time and produce havoc will make the day worthwhile. You see? Totally loony tunes.”
“Oh. So. Then. Well, why did you agree to come with him?”
“To free the light bulbs, of course.”
“Oh yeahhh,” said The Voice thoughtfully. “I should have remembered that.”
“And what about you?” asked Megavolt. He really was curious. In the time she’d been living at the Lighthouse The Voice hadn’t offered much about who she was and where she came from (that he could remember, anyway.) The whole origin thing. Most super villains had an origin. Why had The Voice been plaguing plazas and strip malls when he met her, and why had she been so quick to follow on his proposition? What was the deal?
“Me?” A slightly furtive look came into her eyes. “Just because, I guess. Nothing else to do.”
“Why not?”
The Voice looked down at the plastic baggie in her hands. “I don’t wanna lose count,” she muttered.
Megavolt wasn’t always the brightest bulb when it came to dealing with other people, but this particular hint was pretty unmistakable. Together, they went back to counting the cash in silence.
Darkwing nodded stood up. “Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Quirk. You’ve been a lot of help.” He had indeed. Now Darkwing had some more idea of just what he was dealing with. The background information Joshua had given him provided some important insight into the psyche of Heron Quirk. Darkwing had the feeling this insight was going to prove invaluable the next time he confronted her criminal alter-ego.
“Can you give me any news if something comes up?” Joshua looked desperate. “Will you be talking to anyone besides me?”
Darkwing cocked his head. “I’d say I’ve found out all I need to know. Why do you ask?”
“It’s only that I want to know how much time I have. If I’m going to break it to my folks…you know,” he trailed off awkwardly. “I want to do it gently.”
The super hero shook his head as he got up and headed for the door. “You may want to be quick about it. I expect it to be in the papers first thing tomorrow morning. Goodbye, Mr. Quirk.”
“You’ll let me know if anything comes up?”
Darkwing opened the door and glanced back. “If anything does, you’ll probably be reading about it soon.”
The gray canine turned slightly green. “Oh man.”
Darkwing and Launchpad headed down the front steps, just as a loud beeping sounded from Darkwing’s motorcycle. “It’s the Ratcatcher’s mini-computer! There must be some sort of crime in progress!” exclaimed Darkwing as he and Launchpad hurried towards the vehicle. He jumped into the seat and began scrutinizing the console in front of him. “Wait a minute….That looks like—Good God! St. Canard Elementary? That’s Gosalyn’s school!”
“Uh oh. We’d better hurry, DW,” said Launchpad, settling into the sidecar of the motorcycle and fastening his seatbelt.
“You aren’t kidding, Launchpad.” Darkwing scowled and revved the engine menacingly. “Let’s get dangerous!”
As the Ratcatcher burned rubber down the street, a green car pulled up to the curb in front of Joshua Quirk’s house. A gangly redheaded canine got out of the car, slamming the back door behind him. He glanced down the street at the trail of exhaust Darkwing had left in his wake, then headed up the front steps of the house and knocked on the door.
“Uh, who’s there?” came a troubled voice from inside.
“You know darn well who it is, Josh!” He wasn’t so much mad as he was curious. “So who was that pulling away just now? That wouldn’t happen to be the reason you stood me up today, would it?” The door opened and the redhead looked startled as he caught sight of the other canine. “Man, you look like heck. What’s wrong?”
Wordlessly Joshua grabbed Roger and yanked him into the house.
“Oh yay, it’s the police!” exclaimed Quackerjack delightedly as he looked out a window. “Let’s see how many. One cop car, two cop cars, three cop cars….”
Gosalyn was leaning against the wall next to him, bored. After Megavolt and The Voice had left the gym, Quackerjack had posted his novelty teeth at all the exits. Then he’d had a little fun making scary faces at some of the littler children. Once they started to cry he’d abruptly reverse tactics and offer them a teddy bear or rubber ducky to comfort them. As soon as he’d moved on, Gosalyn would take the toys from the kids and surreptitiously throw them over the hopping, snapping teeth and out into the hallway where they wouldn’t harm anyone.
When Quackerjack had gotten bored he’d also gotten suspicious and told her to stick around where he could see her. Near where he was standing at the window, Gos figured, was as good a place as any. It allowed her to watch the street and check for Darkwing’s arrival, which she was sure would be soon. As she leaned against the wall, to pass the time Gosalyn absently slipped one hand in and out of the cuffs Quackerjack had put on her earlier. Stupid super villains. They could never get the cuff size right. Allowing one empty cuff to dangle from her right wrist, she swung it in a circle idly.
“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. Wow, twenty-three.” Quackerjack looked at her smugly. “That breaks the record. Last time me and Megs had hostages, we got nineteen cop cars.”
Gosalyn put her hand back in the cuff quick, but he didn’t seem to have noticed. She rolled her eyes. “That’s nothing. Ever get a tank?”
Quackerjack was impressed. “No, not that I remember. Outside of the National Guard, but that was with Negaduck. You got a tank once?”
She grinned. “Heck no, I’m a nine-year-old, not a super villain! What am I gonna do that warrants a tank?”
“Oh….” He stuck his tongue out at her. “You shut up and keep those cuffs on. Hey, look, twenty-four!”
Drat, he’d noticed. Gosalyn gave the cuff on her left wrist a ninety-degree turn and scowled. Then she happened to glance at Honker, where he was sitting with the other kids. The young gosling had taken off his glasses and was holding them up, reflecting flashes of light off of one lens. Gosalyn quickly recognized the pattern of flashes as Morse Code. She nodded to him in acknowledgement, then turned to Quackerjack. “Hey, I’m gonna go sit by my friends. It’s boring here.”
He shrugged, still looking at the window. “Do what you want. But please, none of that escaping stuff. It’s really annoying.”
“Whatever you say, Quacky,” Gosalyn said sweetly. She headed for where Honker was sitting.
He put his glasses back on. “Did you get my message?” he whispered.
“Sure did. Sprouts and tomato on wheat bread. Thanks, but I’m not interested. Dad actually put a brownie in my lunch today.”
Honker smacked his forehead. “No, Gosalyn! The message was, I think I may know a way out.”
“Really? Keen gear, Honk, that’s great! How d’ya figure?”
“Hh, if my calculations are correct, there should be a ventilation shaft right over there.”
Gosalyn glanced where he was pointing, then gave him a puzzled look. “What do calculations have to do with it? I can see the grate in the wall.”
“Yes….” Honker actually looked sheepish.
“That’s not much help.”
“No, Gosalyn, listen! Quackerjack’s teeth are guarding all the entrances, but they don’t know about that air vent. If we can get that grate unfastened somehow, we’ll, hh, have a way out that nobody knows about.”
Gosalyn looked thoughtful. “Hey yeah! Then if someone could make a distraction or something, we’d be able to sneak people out of here. But how are we going to get it unfastened?” she mused, looking at the grate.
“I could probably do it,” said someone gruffly. Gosalyn looked over to see Tank, who was sitting on a young pig boy with braces. The smaller kid was struggling. Tank scrunched down on him viciously. “Hey, knock it off, Shrimp, I’m trying to talk to Gos.”
“Hmm. Do you have something you could use to open it?” Gosalyn asked him.
“Hey, if I can break into Mom and Dad’s car I’m sure I can break into that thing,” said Tank dismissively.
“Alright! Honk, I lied to Quackerjack—I do have a Tank!” She grinned and turned back to the older gosling. “Listen, try and get over there without drawing any attention to yourself. You’re big enough—if you just sit in front of that grate-thing you can hide it with your body. Can you open it behind your back?”
“Oh sheesh. Give me a real challenge,” Tank scoffed as he got off his victim, who gasped as the air reentered his lungs.
“Great! High four, man!”
“This’ll be cool,” said Tank as they exchanged the gesture. “Anything that involves damaging school property….” He chuckled as he started to inch cautiously in the direction of the grate.
“I’m gonna go and keep Quackerjack from noticing Tank,” said Gosalyn to Honker. “Give me a cue when it looks like he’s done.” She put her cuffed hands behind her head casually and walked over to the insane toy maker. “Wow, twenty-seven cop cars!” she said.
“Nuh-uh. See? Here comes another one,” Quackerjack replied enthusiastically. He held out Mister Banana Brain.
“That’ll make it twenty-eight, Kate!” exclaimed the doll.
Gosalyn rolled her eyes. She had the feeling this was going to be long and painful….
