Read Online Toy Dance Party by Emily Jenkins - Free Book Online Page B

has a collection of tools spread across the floor, but he is sitting on a plastic lawn chair with a tired expression on his face.
    It doesn’t look good.
    Honey’s mother shoves Lumphy into Frank’s washtub and grabs TukTuk and some Girl-clothes out of the full laundry basket. She loads the washer and goes back upstairs to deal with the pink milk problem.
    The cycle begins. When the water rushes in, Lumphy can no longer hear what’s going on in the basement. And he can’t talk to Frank, because Frank won’t answer with the repairman in the room.
    “Hi,” Lumphy whispers to TukTuk. “Do you know what’s happening with the Dryer?”
    “Why would I know?” says TukTuk.
    “You were in the laundry basket. Maybe you heard something.”
    “I don’t hear about anything that goes on in this house,” fusses TukTuk. “Not that you would care.”
    “I care,” says Lumphy, surprised. He has never known TukTuk to be anything but kind and calm.

    “If you do, you don’t show it,” snaps TukTuk. “I’m never in the linen closet with the other towels, I’m never in the grown-up bathroom with the
other
other towels. It’s rare that I even get
washed
with anybody,” she complains. “And even my so-called friends don’t tell me what’s happening.”
    “Are you upset I didn’t tell you that the Dryer was broken?”
    “It’s not about the Dryer,” sulks TukTuk.
    “What’s it about, then?” Lumphy asks. The water drains and Frank’s tub begins to spin.
    “I heard you had a dance party,” TukTuk says. “Every other towel in the house was there. They’re all talking about it.”
    “Oh.”
    “Just because I get washed with the Girl-clothes doesn’t mean I don’t want to go to a party,” says TukTuk.
    “I’m—”
    “And just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean I don’t want to, either.”
    Lumphy doesn’t know what to say. He wants to make TukTuk feel better, but they are inside Frank’s washtub—and he can’t say in front of Frank that he had never intended to have that dance party in the first place. So he stays silent, and TukTuk stays silent, too. They let Frank go through his cycle.
    When it is done, Frank’s buzzer beeps and Honey’s mother returns to the basement. She dumps Lumphy and the towels into the hamper while she talks to the workman, who is finally, finally finished. He is putting away his tools, and the Dryer is pushed back against the wall.
    “Thanks so much,” the mom tells him. “Come up and I’ll write you a check.” She sets down the laundry basket.
    “Don’tcha want to put that in?” he says, gesturing at the damp wash.
    “Silly me.” She holds up Lumphy. “This can go in as well?”
    “Should be okay.”
    Honey’s mother shoves Lumphy and all the towels into the Dryer and turns it on.
    The Dryer purrs.
    . . . . .
    Fwuuumpa! (baggle baggle)
    Fwuuumpa! (baggle baggle)
    It is seriously hot in the Dryer.
    Fwuuumpa! (baggle baggle)
    Fwuuumpa! (baggle baggle)
    That is the noise Lumphy makes when he is in it, because he rides three-quarters of the way up the turning drum, then Fwuuumpa!
    drops down to the bottom, onto TukTuk and
    the clothes and
    (baggle baggle)
    bumps around a few times before riding up
    the drum again.
    It is not his favorite experience, at all.
    In fact, he feels sick to his stomach worse than he’s ever felt sick to his stomach before, but he keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t complain one tiny complaint, even. He is so happy that the Dryer is well again. That she won’t be dragged off to the dump and replaced by a stranger.
    That Frank will not be lonely.
    That all the wishing on the stars
    maybe
    helped.
    . . . . .
    When the Dryer halts, it is after dinnertime, but the spring sky is still bright, the evening sun shining through the basement windows. Honey and her parents are out of the house. Lumphy can tell by how quiet it is.
    “I am so glad you’re feeling better,” he calls, after the Dryer’s drum rolls to a stop. She