I never found the heads. It upset my sister for a long time afterward. You couldn't even joke about it when she was around.

It started the summer Bobby McDermott moved to our town. My parents called him an "army brat." He was a brat all right. He had more toys than the toy store. Whenever a commercial for the latest need-to-have came on the television, Bobby would say, "I've got that. It stinks."

Bobby's favorite hobby was picking on my sister, Melissa. He used to snatch whatever she had from her hands and wave it high above her head until she cried.

Melissa's favorite toys were her three dolls. They were nothing special to look at. Two of them were a little worn, but Melissa always put nice dresses on them with matching shoes and a hair ribbon around their curly blonde locks. The hair on the third one was all matted, like a yellow spider web. Bobby particularly loved to snatch those away.

My family wasn't like Bobby's. We didn't have much money. My dad worked in the lumber mill at the other end of town. Mom sliced meat behind the deli counter at the grocery store. They usually worked during the day when we were in school, but during the summer they worked opposite shifts, so that there was always someone home to watch us. They didn't make much money, so we only got toys for our birthdays or Christmas.

"It's Princess Ugly Dolls," Bobby would say. Melissa would cry and run into the house. That's when Bobby would get bored and toss the dolls down on the porch.

"C'mon, lets play," he'd command and I'd go.

He could be mean some times, but still I liked him. We got along. We'd play with his toys and make up all kinds of pretend games. Sometimes we played cops and robbers, with plastic guns. Other times we used his cool toy swords and put bandanas on our heads and pretended we were pirates.

"Let's hide stuff. We'll draw a treasure map and dig it up," he'd say.

We had lots of fun.

Bobby's favorite thing to play with was his collection of small metal cars. He had a big plastic box filled with them. He said I could use any one of them except the shiny blue one with the red flames painted on the sides; that was his favorite one. We used to hold the cars at the top of the slide in his yard, one car each, and let them race to the bottom. He would say he won, even if my car made it to the bottom first, because they were his cars.

One particularly hot day in August, Bobby and I were hanging out on my front porch trying to figure out what to play. Melissa came out with her dolls and Bobby immediately got to work. He held the dolls above her head, teasing her in his usual manner. When Melissa insisted that he give them back, he began to walk away, carrying them by the hair.

"Hey, where are you going with those?" Melissa asked.

"I'm taking them home," he returned.

"C'mon, Bobby. Give 'em back," I shouted.

"Too bad," he said as he continued until he disappeared from view.

"I'll get them, Mel," I said.

"Tell him I'll give him the two lollipops I have in my room if he'll give them back."

I walked to Bobby's house. He came to the door with a smug look on his face. "Okay, Bobby. You've made your point; Melissa's really upset. She's even willing to give you the candy that she got from our Grandma. Can I please have the dolls back?"

"Can't do it. I already hid them. We'll have to play pirates to find 'em."

Thinking of Melissa, I said, "Okay, let's play."

"Oh, not today. I've got to go run errands with my mom now. Talk to you later. Bye." He closed the door and left me standing rejected on the porch.

Melissa cried for three days. Every time I asked Bobby for the dolls he came up with another excuse. Melissa upped the ante and offered him a dozen home baked cookies in addition to the two lollipops.

"Nope," was all he would reply.

Weeks and weeks went by. Bobby tortured Melissa every few days by mentioning the dolls. He would even produce a shoe or one of the pretty hair ribbons to really bother her.

Soon, school began and Melissa and I both offered our daily lunches in return for the dolls. Bobby would simply smile and say, "Nope."

Finally, one Saturday morning I saw Melissa sitting on the porch. She looked sad and alone without the dolls.

"Come on," I said. We went to Bobby's house. I wasn't leaving without the dolls. I was going to offer him my prized baseball card for their return. I knew he wanted the card ever since I showed it to him. I was even prepared to end my friendship with him if he didn't surrender the dolls.

A big van was parked in the driveway. The side read, "Marvin's Moving and Storage." Bobby walked out of the house, carrying a big box, with black marker that read "Bobby's things."

"Well, it looks like we're movin' again," he said. "Dad's been reassigned to another base."

"Then you can give my sister back her dolls," I said sternly.

"I told you, I buried them. You'll have to search."

"Search where?" I pressed.

"I hid them in separate places."

"Okay, where is the first doll?"

"No, no. I hid their bodies in one place and the heads in another."

Melissa's mouth dropped open and the color left her cheeks, conveying her horror. She ran away sobbing.

"Bobby, you're sick. Where are they?" I demanded.

"I'll leave you a map before I go. I have to finish packing now."

Melissa and I could do nothing but wait, and wait, and wait. Bobby never showed up. He moved away without leaving any hint as to where the dolls were. Every day after school, I'd go out into either our yard or his and start digging. It would always result in the same thing - nothing.

Melissa's birthday came and Mom and Dad bought her a new doll. Grandma bought her two more for Christmas. I even saved my paper route money and got her one for her Easter basket.

A year passed since Bobby moved. I still dug up the yard looking for the dolls.

"I baked some cookies," Melissa said handing me a tall glass of lemonade and a small plate. "It's okay, you can stop looking. I've given up."

"I don't want you to be sad anymore, Mel. It was a mean thing for him to do. I don't even know why I was his friend."

We sat on the porch in silence, sipping lemonade and eating cookies.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing toward the Azaela bush next to the porch steps.

Between the trunk of the bush and the base of the porch, there was a weather-beaten shoebox. Inside were three fully clothed, plastic bodies - all headless.

Underneath the dolls was a note.

Dear Melissa:
I'm sorry for stealing your dolls. I've liked you since I moved into the neighborhood. I thought you would like me, too. I stole your dolls because I hoped you would offer me a kiss to return them. Then I found out I was moving. I wanted to give them back, but I couldn't remember where I hid the heads. I'm really sorry. I hope you can forgive me.
Bobby

The letter was dated the day he left.

Melissa turned to me and said, "You're a good brother. Thanks for trying."

"I'll keep looking. They have to be here somewhere."

"I know where they are," she said.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I have them."

I looked at her with a shocked curiosity.

"The day we went to his house, you know the day he was moving, I took them."

"But how?"

"Remember when I ran away? After he said he told us the heads were separate from the bodies?"

I nodded.

"Well, I started to run home. I tripped and knocked over one of Bobby's boxes. Everything fell out onto the driveway. As I picked up everything to put it back into the box, I found a small plastic bag with my doll's heads. I took them and ran home. I know I was no better than he was. I should have told you, but I thought he would confess everything."

"But that wasn't wrong," I reassured her. "You were just taking back what was yours."

"Oh, I know. I meant what I stole from him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Stay here," she said, disappearing into the house. A few minutes passed. She returned with her fist clutched. "I stole this from him," she said opening her fist to reveal a small, blue, metal car with red flames painted on the side. "Now he'll know what it feels like."

I held up the small metal car and took a bite of my cookie. I guess Melissa won this race.

The End

When Lee is not reading or writing, she spends time with her husband, two sons, two hyper dogs, and two very sleepy hamsters. Lee likes to read for all ages, adults included. She's had numerous pieces published on various websites, and she's currently working on several stories about a teddy bear, named Mr. Warbles, and the night-time adventures he shares with his friends, the monsters that live under the bed and in the closet. Lee is also finishing up a middle grade story about a boy's first encounter with a middle school bully.

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