A Dummy's Lady - A Goosebumps Fanfiction {Completed}

The Relief

Later, Stine and I were in the nurse's office, along with Zach, Champ, Hannah, and Cassandra. There were four chairs in the office. I sat in the chair that was close to the entrance, and Stine sat across from me, by the corner of a wall. Zach and Champ sat in the two remaining chairs that were both against the white wall. I looked around while waiting to get treated.

The office was fairly small. There was not much room for five people, let alone one. A lamp dangled above our heads. It gently swayed back and forth, and the light that brightened the small room made the white floor glistened. The floor looked as if it sparkled.

Posters were hanging on the wall. They talked about how to have a balanced diet, stay healthy, and have a happy life. A long and wide desk was at the end of the room, close to where Stine was sitting. Picture frames, a computer, a pen, and loads of paper scattered all over were on the desk. I stared at the papers and sighed, remembering the broken typewriter.

I had told Stine of the typewriter before Hannah and the others took us to the nurse's office, and he did not take it well.

I examined him. He was holding his glasses and looking down. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his black jacket and mumbled something under his breath. I did not catch what it was. However, I could tell that he was both disappointed and upset.

I leaned back in my chair and played with my thumbs. "Mr. Stine?" I finally spoke up. I waited for him to lift his head and look at me, but he did not. So I continued talking. "I am sorry about the typewriter. I know that typewriter meant a lot."

The writer slowly nodded, but did not tilt his head up. "It...it is not your fault," he finally spoke. "It is my fault."

"No, it is not your fault."

"Yes, it is." He paused, and then continued. "I am the one who crashed into the table."

"That was not your fault. That was Slappy's!"

"She is right, sir," Champ agreed.

Cassandra and Hannah soon came back with a first aid kit and ice pack. The first aid kit was white and had a red cross on the front. Hannah walked over to her father and placed the ice pack on his head, and Cassandra, holding the kit, hurried over to me. She opened it.

I frowned at my caretaker. "Is this really necessary?" I questioned. "I told you that I was not hurt in the wreck."

"Better safe than sorry," she replied. She took out a dry cloth and a bottle of liquid and set the kit down. She tilted the bottle and poured the liquid onto the cloth. She then set the bottle on the floor and gently rubbed the cloth, now wet with liquid, on my arms.

I groaned. "Why...why are you putting alcohol on my arms?" I clenched my teeth. The liquid was cold.

"For safety precautions. There is no doubt in my mind that you scraped your arms."

I rolled my eyes.

"So why did my ex-boyfriend run into a table?" Cassandra wondered. "To make a fool out of himself? 'Cause he already did that when he ended our relationship."

Hannah frowned at her. "Could you not call my dad a fool?" she said.

"Why, of course." She grabbed a band-aid from the kit. "I will keep calling him an idiot." She rolled up my sleeve and put the band-aid on my right shoulder. "Idiot."

Finally, Stine had enough.

"Cassandra!" he shouted as he stood up. "I told you once before, and I am going to tell you again. I am sorry. I am sorry that I broke up with you. I was out of character. I should not have done it! It is one of the most regretful things that I have ever done, and I wish that I could go back and fix it."

"Regretful?" The caretaker stared at him. "Like when you made those monsters? When you started dating Lorraine? She is a piece of work. And I do not mean that in a good way."

Tears streamed down the writer's cheeks. "Yes...and now that the typewriter is broken, I cannot put the monsters back in the book." He hung his head. "Slappy...Slappy wins."

I looked at the manuscript that I was holding, and then at Stine. "Mr. Stine?" I got up and went over to him. I took a piece of paper out of the manuscript and handed it to him.

He put his glasses back on and examined the paper. "What...what is this?"

I slightly smiled. "The ending. I had already finished writing it before the typewriter broke."