I was the one with the reputation for finding haunted houses—and owners who would let us in to snoop around--but it was Allie who brought us to the place we’re trapped in now.

It’s a big house on a fair-sized lot, but it’s not all that isolated. Sometimes, at night—on those nights I’m allowed to tilt my head and sleep--I lie there awhile and I think I hear the traffic on Rt. 138 which is only about three miles away. Or, as Paul must have said a hundred times: “If we could just get to the roof and spit, our gobbets would practically land in my mother’s front yard.” He means in Rhode Island where we all used to live.

Paul used to be my boyfriend, just like Allie used to be my best friend.

But we’re none of us very human anymore—the dolls have seen to that....