I give her the finger, but only from inside the sling and only after she’s turned around to leave her office.

The Arrival of the People Puppets

The following week, two full-size People Puppets wearing costumes constructed from everyday recycled materials sit across from us in the living room—People Puppets on one couch, humans—and a dog—on the other. The scene is freakish enough, but I’m still unnerved by the creepy encounter with Grace—tempted even, out of an abundance of caution, to cancel the housing-in-exchange-for-tuition-credit deal we’d made. What would stop her from sending the People Puppets into our house with cameras or recording devices to get information on us? (“Someone could be—and probably is!—spying on you right now—with their smartphone”), I’d thought while I tried, and failed, to fall asleep. But I decided not to. Canceling seemed like an escalation, and while I didn’t like her and didn’t trust her, keeping our agreement in place seemed like a de-escalation. That, and the fact that we still needed that stupid tuition credit so that Teddy wouldn’t have to leave school.

“So, I’m Judy, and this is Gary.” I can feel myself break into a big nervous smile.

The puppet on the left answers first. “I’m Phoebra the Zebra. Well, Phoebe in real life. And this is Nick the Llama.”

I repeat the words slowly, and so does Gary—Phoebra. The. Zebra. Then: Nick. The. Llama.—but nothing poetic happens. We exchange glances, afraid we’re already doing it wrong.

“Don’t worry,” the Llama says. “It’s not you. It doesn’t rhyme. But for whatever reason, that’s my name anyway.” He leans in for Gary’s hand, then stops short. “Oops. Let me take my ‘hoof’ off first.” They shake, and then he puts the hoof back on.

Gary looks from one puppet to the other. He’s so confused he doesn’t even know how to form a question, but I know exactly what he’s thinking: let’s leave.

“I thought you were”—he searches for his words—“puppeteers. Like the Muppets.”

“No. We’re the actual puppets.”

“We don’t just hold the puppet,” Phoebe clarifies. “We become the puppet.”

I point to my sling. “Kind of like me and my dog!”

The first of many birds appears on my head.

“Exactly!” Nick says. “See, I’m the llama and the llama is me. But who am I and who is the llama? Where does one end and the other begin?”

There’s a bird on Nick’s head.

Gary nods. “Not to be an asshole, but I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s okay. Most people don’t get it.”

Gary leans forward. “But you work with children. Isn’t it important that they get it?”

“Children do get it!” Nick says. “Because life is still full of mystery and magic for them!”

Gary snorts. I ignore him. “Teddy used to totally be into magic,” I blurt. “Back before he became a joyless teenager. We still have his black satin cape in the basement.”

Teddy turns sideways in the doorway, as if he’s trying to slip in between the molding and the wall. “See?” I point, and everyone turns. “He’s trying to make himself disappear right now!”