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artist-issues · 14 days

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I saw you answer an ask on Toy Story, which was super interesting, and also say:

"It’s an incredibly good movie series. Not Toy Story 4. But the rest of the series."

I didn't actually see Toy Story 4 because I felt the first three tied the story up very well, and we got a really good arc through those first three. It just felt unnecessary, and what I did see from it didn't make me eager to go out and watch it.

Could you expand on where you think Toy Story 4 goes wrong? If the other three convey selflessness, living and finding purpose, then what does that Toy Story 4 try to convey? Does it contradict the others?

I think Toy Story 4 goes wrong by trying to make Woody selfish. I mean, you could say that he isn't selfish to leave Bonnie and his friends and embrace the "Lost Toy" lifestyle. You could say "he just went from taking care of one kid who didn't really need him anymore to taking care of every lost kid who could need him, and finding lost toys homes. That's what was happening with the lost little girl at the end!"

Okay, you could say all that, but you'd be wrong, because 1) that is not what was happening at the end. And 2) even if it were, that is not a selfless ending for Woody. Furthermore 3) it undoes all his character development and progression from the first three.

You didn't see the fourth movie, right? So let me break it down a little.

Woody's character progression goes like this:

1: Obsessed with being The Most Important Toy to Andy --> Remembering that what's great about being a toy is being there for Andy when he needs them, regardless of how often or special that is.

2: Fine with no longer being The Most Important Toy to Andy, but considering leaving because Andy will eventually not need him, ever --> Realizing that being there means being there, even if it's just to watch and love from a distance, instead of protecting yourself to no end.

3. Committed to Being There even if he's not needed --> But this includes being there for his friends, even after they choose to abandon him and the mission. (It's important to note that Woody only offers ((by getting in the box to Bonnie's)) to leave Andy if Andy chooses to give him to a kid who needs him more.)

The whole idea is that Woody belongs to someone. He's not his own. He's a toy. Toys belong to their kid; they don't have the right to just leave. If they did, they'd be bad toys. Because you never know how much a kid will be heartbroken, or whether or not they might need you down the road. Every movie before Toy Story 4 is Woody doubting that, but then coming back to it. That's why in Toy Story 3, when everyone is in Andy's Room sad because he won't play with them and he's about to leave, Woody is totally onboard with staying in the Attic for years—because maybe they'll get to be played with by Andy's kids. He's loyal, and selfless, because he knows he's not his own. He's willing to go to Bonnie only because it'll mean staying with his friends where they're needed; but ONLY if ANDY willingly gives them up.

Enter Toy Story 4.

Woody's having a hard time adjusting to Bonnie's Room because 1) he doesn't get played with, his role in the games is taken by Jessie. So he's right back where he was in the first movie, stuck in a closet watching another toy get played with. And 2) Dolly is the leader of the room, so he's not even really allowed to be helpful to his friends during their off hours, because she's got that covered. So he feels directionless.

UNTIL Bonnie goes to school for the first time. She's not allowed to bring toys. Dolly is fine with this but Woody goes anyway because he's sure Bonnie will need something.

And in this beautiful first portion of character development for Woody, he does not sneak out of the backpack and get Bonnie to gain comfort from him, her one and only toy, at daycare. Even though he totally could've. He could've seized his moment in her heart. But he didn't. Because he already learned that lesson in Toy Story 1-3: he doesn't need to be everything to the kid. He just needs to do what's best for the kid, and to do that, he has to be there.

So instead he throws her a bunch of craft supplies to play with when nobody sits with her. She gets distracted by making Forky, a toy made from a spork and some pipe cleaner.

Bonnie is, from that moment on and throughout the rest of the movie, without exception, OBSESSED with Forky. There is no other toy in her mind. But Forky is a lot like Buzz was in the first movie after learning he's a toy: he doesn't understand what's so great about that, and would rather go back to being trash. He keeps trying to jump in garbage cans while Bonnie's family takes a road trip. And for some inexplicable reason, none of the other toys really care about this. But Woody, knowing what Bonnie needs, basically posts a 24-hour suicide watch on Forky and keeps pulling him back over to Bonnie, out of the trash.

The problem is, Woody isn't that excited about this. He is just doggedly resigned to it as his duty. He keeps rescuing Forky and getting no love in return; Buzz sort of tries to be supportive and offer to help, but nobody else seems to care about Bonnie and Forky, and Woody thinks this is his only way to be useful so he really doesn't want their help.

Which is stupid. Because if he were really committed to being selfless and loving Bonnie, he'd let everyone help. Because the point isn't "how will I feel if I fail to do this on my own? What's my purpose?" That's selfish. It's "you-focused." The point should be "How can we get this job done best for Bonnie?" with no consideration of "self." That would be selfless, which is the point of Toy Story movies.

Anyway. I'll speed up.

Basically by Act 2 Forky comes to understand (thanks to Woody) how great it is to be a toy. But no sooner does he want to go back to Bonnie (on the road trip) than Woody suddenly gets distracted. His whole life's mission of doing what's good for his kid is derailed because he finds Bo Peep again. Meanwhile, Forky is captured by a villainous antique doll with no voice box, who is fixated on being bought by a little girl and thinks that if she had Woody's voice box her dreams would come true.

Bo Peep has been living as a Lost Toy. Basically the movie sets this up as if Lost Toys take care of each other, patching up injuries and having fun together even when no kids are around: they're just doing the same sort of thing that the reformed toys at Sunnyside Daycare do. But in a playground/fairground setting.

Bo Peep doesn't want to be with one kid. She wants to keep doing this more selfish lifestyle, where she can be played with whenever she wants, help toys whenever she wants, and avoid the heartbreak of a kid abandoning her.

Understandable.

But thats the opposite of everything Woody's learned in the last three (and a half) movies. He could've made the decision Bo Peep is making at any point in Andy's childhood. But he's already learned that being there means Being There, regardless of what the kid can do for you.

I mean, I hate to point it out, because I know people will try to make it an allegory for "staying in an abusive situation," even though that's NOT what I'm saying, but seriously—think back to Sid's House in the very first movie. They don't lead all the broken toys to a life of freedom. They force Sid to be a better kid, but the broken toys stay there. Because they're Sid's Toys.

Contrast that with the "hardship" Bo Peep has been through...Bo Peep just...got pawned off. She didn't have body parts removed and sewn onto other toys. She didn't get strapped to a firework or melted down. But she's treated like this revolutionary, independent, strong-woman toy who's introducing this great concept of freedom to Woody.

That's all wrong for Woody. And for most of the movie, he resists it, so that's good.

But what it comes down to, at the end, is Woody deciding to choose what he wants over his ideals of selflessness and loyalty. He wants to stay with Bo Peep (because romance) and he wants to be needed. Lost Kids and Toys "need" him more than Bonnie.

To be fair, they try to build up to this in a way that makes sense for his character. They try really hard, they do. They show that Woody is still selfless when it comes to the happiness of kids and toys; he willingly gives up his voice box so that Forky can go back to Bonnie, and the doll villainess can have a shot at her dream. They show that he's ready to support that villainess and help her find a kid she could be true to even after the kid she wanted rejects her. They show that he really was going to leave Bo, even at the very end, even though he didn't want to—and it takes Buzz insisting that Bonnie will "be all right" without him for Woody to give it all up.

They do try.

But that's the thing. The only way they could set up Woody's decision to abandon his friends and his kid for life as a Lost Toy was by centering it around this idea of "where I'm needed."

But 1) "where I'm needed" is too self-focused for Woody, because of all the reasons in Toy Story 2 and 1, and 2) you can't have it both ways. You can't say Woody's all about "where he can be of service best" and all about "what he wants." Those two focuses contradict one another, in Woody's case.

That's what it boils down to. They took the characters that are literally made to say, "live your life for others, love regardless of whether or not you're loved back," and they try to say, "nooo, actually, that's toxic, you have to do what you want, what feels most fulfilling to you, self-care, etc." And they do their best to shoehorn Woody into that by saying "what he's most fulfilled by is being needed."

That's all wrong for Toy Story. Woody developed away from making all his decisions based on where he's "needed" in Toy Story 2. Woody expressed loyalty to both Andy and his friends perfectly in Toy Story 3 by putting himself in Bonnie's box and letting Andy decide, his owner decide, where he should be.

And then Toy Story 4 comes along and says, "No, Woody gets to decide, and he decides where he's needed, and he's fine with separating from not only his kid, but his friends."

This post is already too long but also, if you try to spin it so Woody's still in-character and selfless by helping Lost Toys find kids, it starts to make no sense. If the Lost Toy lifestyle is so great, because you can pick up playtime with kids and put it back down whenever you feel like it—and you should, because kids will always get older and throw you out—why should Woody ever help Lost Toys find a kid to go home with? Why wouldn't he say, like Bo, "hey that's nice but eventually they'll grow up, it's a dead-end, just stay out in this playground with us. That's what's best for you. Be a Lost Toy like us."

The only possible answer to that question, which IS supposedly Woody's fulfilling ending, is, "Because maybe some toys just 'want' to go home with one kid. And if they do, they should be allowed to do what they want. And Woody can help them, because helping them is what he wants."

Allll back to "what YOU want" which is the opposite of being a toy. Anyway. The horse is dead, I'll quit beating it.

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casicroaks · 5 months

Text

At the insistence of his new friends, Woody finally opens up about his life previous to Andy. Meanwhile, as Bo discovers there was so much that was left unsaid between them, she resolves to follow his example -and tell him what she truly went through, between being taken to a new family and finding her own capacity for independence.

CHAPTER 4

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 ]

Soon Jenny was spending almost all her after-school afternoons at Billy Davis' house, with Woody and Barbara Ann and their respective horses under her arm. She and Billy made up detailed backstories to all the little plastic cowboys, and so they created the Eight Ball Gang, a team begrudgingly armed by a ragtag group of miscreants and all-around bad fellas who realized strength was in numbers: and so, through their organized efforts, they managed to escape all attempts of capture. Since Barbara Ann's attempt to join them was unsuccessful –since all members of the Eight Ball Gang were also notoriously vulnerable to girl cooties, the sickness that was decimating the local population –even Barbara Ann had declared war upon them, partly to recuperate her turf but mostly to make them pay for the humiliation they had subjected her to.

And, what Woody was the most excited about, Jenny always lent him to Billy. She had quickly resumed to him all the character quirks she had made up for Woody, of how noble and heroic and upright he was, how he was uncle to Sophie, how he had won Ginger in a bet long ago, how he never drank nor cussed, how he was a rather good guitar player but had lost his instrument in a bet long ago. With all that (which Woody thought wasn't that deep of a characterization), Billy spun magic. He made up more details: Woody Pride was the orphaned son of a mineworker, who had died in the job deep in debt; he had gone to work in the mines as an attempt to pay his father's dues, and the mayor of his small town had recognized his hard work and dedication, and paid the debt –in exchange of having the young man serve as the town sheriff as the last one had been killed by the local bandit; Sophie was the daughter of Woody's sister, who had vowed to never marry and yet had turned up pregnant, and so was rejected by the rest of the townspeople, forcing her to seek fortune somewhere else, and Woody accepted to take care of the child until her mother could return to take Sophie with her. Since then, Woody raised his niece as well as he could, while also fighting for peace and order in his community.

Not wanting to be any less, Jenny also broadened Barbara Ann's backstory; she had been the only female daughter of a drunken, cruel prospector and a frail, sickly seamstress. As the oldest child she had tried her best to protect her younger brothers, yet two of them had died to malnutrition and disease. While her father was punishing one of her brothers, in another of his drunken bouts of anger, Barbara Ann had taken his old pistol off his nightstand and told him to leave the boy alone. The father did not listen; he continued beating the boy, and when Barbara tried to fire a warning shot, she somehow managed to shoot her father right in the heart. Barbara's mother, terrified, told her daughter to run away before someone found out about it and she was tried for murder. The last she saw of her family, just before taking Bella, her father's horse, was her mother burying her dead husband on the back of the little shack they lived in, while her brothers waved at them from the dusty windows. Since then, she tried to find a job but was constantly rejected; what little money she managed to have was stolen from her; and so, one night, after being beaten out of a bar after starting a fight, she decided she would no longer go hungry, nor homeless, nor pummeled; she still had her old father's pistol. If crime was her only path to survival, it would be the path she'd take.

"That's amazing," had said Billy, his eyes shining, looking at Jenny when she finished telling her concept. "I got chills."

This was certainly a pretty dark backstory, Woody thought, as Billy said so, but it felt appropriate for an ever-more-complex character like Barbara Ann Barlow. Billy and Jenny planned several storylines to follow, like Woody's sister's return, or Barbara's reunion with her grown-up brothers. None of them came through, mostly because neither Billy nor Jenny had any toys either could use for their heroes' families, and Billy's older sister, Vivian, had already disposed of her old toys by the time they considered using them. It didn't matter, anyway. With the toys they had, they still could make up hundreds of stories, of conflicts and unlikely teamups and ultimate shootout showdowns at midday in the main street.

"And then the bullet ricocheted on the town hall clock," described Woody one evening, while Jenny was having dinner, back at her room. "And then a bell was rung and it fell, scaring Bella, and distracting Barbara Ann; and then, then I—"

"They get it, sheriff," said Barbara Ann, with a tired sigh. "Get a grip and have some rest."

Rosy, Sunny and Tiny, who had been attentively listening to Woody, looked at Barbara Ann and then at him. Woody thought it was better not to argue, to calm himself down a bit –he knew he was a bit overexcited –but he couldn't stop himself.

"I can't!" he said, excitedly. "Didn't you had the fun of your life?"

"It was fun, yeah…"

"It was great!" he exclaimed.

"Can it, man!" cried Barbara Ann. "Can't you just shut up for a second!?"

Felicity, who had been helping Annie-Lou braid her hair, stopped what she was doing. Startled, Rosy, Sunny and Tiny hid behind Woody; even Polly, who was often too busy reading by the desk lamp, peeked to see what was going on.

"Barb, what's wrong?" asked Felicity, approaching her.

"Nothing –I'm just tired of all his yammering."

"Why does it bother you?" said Woody. "I'm telling your stories as well as mine!"

Barbara Ann huffed, pulled Bella by the reigns and, with his help, climbed up through the nightstand to get to the bed. Woody gazed at her. What was her problem?, he thought. Why did she had to ruin his fun?

"You haven't answered me," he called out.

As soon as he said this, Woody could feel how the other toys stared at him. He had done something reckless –but he didn't regret it –at least not yet.

Barbara Ann looked down from over the quilt. Woody couldn't read her expression, as her wide black hat was shadowing her face.

"Come again, sheriff?"

"I said you haven't answered me," he repeated, and now he could hear a few gasps. "Why does it bother you?"

Silence. There was the faint sound of conversation and clinking silverware from downstairs. There was a soft sigh, and Barbara Ann came down from the bed in one jump, landing perfectly on her worn brown boots. Woody moved aside, almost instinctively.

"I'll tell ya why it bothers me," she said, and began walking towards him. Woody walked back, as it dawned on him that she had never seemed so mad at him before. "Because you only now get all this manic enthusiasm, only now you chat your voicebox away, and all because of that boy, Billy Davis."

Woody frowned. "What?"

"Don't act stupid, sheriff."

"I mean, yeah, I'm really happy that Jenny's playing with Billy. They clearly like each other, they're very good friends. What's wrong with that?"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about!" cried Barbara Ann. "I listen to you, sheriff –I can't not listen to you, with how loud you talk, how much you like to brag. You pride yourself on being Billy's favorite, don'tcha? Always talking 'bout him, like he's your sun and stars or somethin'…"

Woody let out a nervous chuckle. "I mean, you know, he certainly likes playing with me… And can you blame me for liking being played by him?"

"Can I? Oh yes I can," she said. "Tell me, what were you doing the night before yesterdays?"

Woody looked around –at Ginger, at Sophie, at anyone for help.

"Well? You've not answered me, sheriff Woody Pride."

"I was…" Woody began to say. "… I was by the window."

"Out of the toy box."

"Yes… But Jenny was already asleep."

"Yeah –I know," grinned Barbara Ann.

"So?" Woody shrugged. "What's the matter with that?"

Barbara Ann glared at him. "What were you doing by the window? Watching the stars?"

"I was… I just wanted to know what was Billy up to."

There was whispering and gossiping. Woody would have been sweating if he could… Barbara Ann was about to make him talk.

"Why? Billy isn't your kid, now, is he?"

"No…" he said, quietly.

"Is he?"

"No, he isn't."

"Come again, cowboy."

"No, he isn't!" snapped Woody. "But I dang wish he was!"

Now all the toys –even serious Bella, even quiet Sophie –let out a shocked gasp. Barbara Ann smirked, less glad than relieved; she finally knew, as well as everyone else in the room. Felicity gave a few steps towards Barbara Ann –but she raised her hand to stop her, still with her eyes fixed on Woody.

"Alright. The cat's out of the bag. Now let's talk about this, shall we?"

"There's nothing to talk about," said Woody.

"There is. So listen up, now, sheriff, because I won't tell you this twice: your kid is Jennifer Oakley. You are hers," said Barbara Ann, dropping her Southern drawl for a sudden clear, loud and commanding voice. "And you cannot –you are forbidden –to go over and stay at that boy's house unless Jenny herself gives you to him."

"If he likes me more than Jenny does, why couldn't I?"

"Because you can't!" cried Barbara Ann. "Because you'd be a thankless, ungrateful goddamn toy!"

Absolute shocked silence. Polly and Annie-Lou covered the ears of the babes. Woody had heard plenty of cussing in his day –they were commonplace when Davy's parents used to argue –but no toy he ever knew had dared to say these sort of words. Felicity seemed to really want to step in and try to calm things down, but there was no way she could safely get between the two. Barbara Ann was fuming, her gloved hands curled into fists, all her body tense and about to tear Woody to pieces.

"She has chosen you to play with her –she plays with you every single day –and you're planning to run away?" she exclaimed, getting more and more fired up. "What sort of toy are you? How can you even think about leaving someone as sweet and loving as Jenny?"

"She'll grow up, you know?" he tried to retort. "Jenny'll grow up, like all kids do. Then what makes you so sure she'll still want to keep me? What makes you so sure she'll still want to keep you?"

Barbara Ann grabbed Woody by his neckerchief. But Woody wasn't afraid anymore. He had spoken the truth –and besides, he realized, what could she do to him, say to him? He had already spent years waiting on the shelf. He had already lost dear friends. He had already had to see his kid grow up. All those experiences had made him stronger. The reason Barbara Ann did all this angry-bull display of power was to feel in control, and it was already slipping from her. And so, Woody couldn't help but smile a bit.

"When you end up in the garbage, with no kid to save you, because you've been too self-centered to even take your kid's feelings into account –then you'll feel sorry," said Barbara Ann in a vicious low voice. "Then you'll truly know pain."

She shoved him aside and climbed, on her own, to the bed, and with that the fight was over. Felicity went to Bella, and they tried to ask Barbara Ann to talk to them, but she wasn't listening. Let her masticate her anger, thought Woody, serves her right. He had no reason to be her chew toy.

As he was on his way to the toy box –after what Barbara Ann had made him confess, he wouldn't stay out at night anymore –Ginger approached him and lowered his voice.

"Hey, Woody…"

"Hey," he said, wondering why he was talking like that. "Is something the matter?"

"No, no, I just wanted to ask you…" Ginger cleared his voice with a short neigh. "Um… You did hear about Billy's older sister disposing of her toys, right?"

Woody blinked. "Yeah… Yes, he mentioned it."

"Well…" the horse whispered. "So you know."

"What do I know?"

"That… Well… Barbara Ann heard that, too."

Woody scoffed. "Yes, I sure hope she did."

"Sheriff, you've been here for longer –you're older –you know what that whole being disposed of thing is all about…" said Ginger, even lower. "But most of us aren't familiar with that. We're… Most of us aren't really looking forward to that. We don't know what will happen to us…"

"Don't worry, Ginger," smiled Woody, lowering his hat to cover his eyes. "You're still in good shape. You'll surely go to another kid, you won't be thrown away nor anything like that."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Ginger asked nervously.

Woody raised the brim of his hat and looked at Ginger, or more like his barely distinguishable silhouette, in the dark.

"What makes you so sure all of us will be okay?"

Woody had no response. After a while, Ginger went to sleep –but his question remained in the cowboy's mind. By the time he could not keep awake any longer, Woody still had no answer.

A few months passed since that incident; Barbara Ann started avoiding Woody, only speaking to him when necessary. Only then did it dawn on him how much they usually communicated –again, even after five years since he came to Jenny's room, Woody didn't think he could really consider Barbara Ann a friend –since, despite everything, he still was one of Jenny's more played with toys –and he was head of security and rescue missions –and that meant Barbara Ann needed to tell him whether she knew anything that the other toys needed to know, whether there were news like if someone was coming for a playdate or if there was a laundry day or when spring cleaning was nearing. Now, Felicity had to be the intermediary. None of them was really happy with the deal, but Felicity tried to put on her best face.

Jenny's tenth birthday came, and since the weather was good, Mom and Dad arranged to celebrate the party in the back yard. Ann and Julie came, along with a couple other girls from school; there were only two boys –Alan, Jenny's older cousin, and Billy, who seemed rather uncomfortable under the vigilant gaze of Jenny's friends –who had heard a lot about him, and all tried to assess what sort of relationship they had. All the toys were pressing their faces against the glass of Jenny's room's mirror, staring down, trying to see what the gifts looked like. Most of the bigger gifts were from Jenny's uncles and grandparents, and even those didn't seem like toys. Woody was a bit surprised: the last few birthdays most of them had been happy to see new arrivals –though they were very few and often just things like little dresses and accessories for her Barbie, which Jenny didn't thought would fit Barbara Ann's style. But now no one wanted more newcomers. Woody felt there was a sort of tension beyond the one between him and Barbara Ann –since the fight, there was also a certain strain in the way the other toys talked to him –talked to each other –as if each knew something and couldn't spit it out. Nobody wanted Jenny to have any new toys, but nobody said it outright.

"Do you think you'll get another sparkly disco dress, Barb?" asked Felicity with a wink.

Barbara Ann smiled, stifling a laugh. "I bet Princess Anneliese would love one of those," she answered coyly.

"Well, it's not her birthday…"

"What's Billy doing?" said Woody, leaning closer to the window.

He had been standing in the corner, eating potato chips on his own for most of the time, while Jenny and her friends chatted and played party games. But, while the gifts were handed and opened, just after the candles were blown and the cake slices were handed, Billy went to Jenny and gave her a small box he had been carrying in his pocket. Ginger also came to the window.

"It's very small… I don't think it's a toy."

Annie-Lou let out a loud gasp. "What if it's a ring?"

All the toys turned to her.

"A ring?" asked Whitelace.

"Yes –you know, like boys do," said Annie-Lou with a shrug.

"They're children, Annie-Lou," said Leguizamo.

"Wait, look –Ann is giving Jenny her present," said Polly.

Woody kept his eyes on Billy and Jenny. She had slipped the little box in her pocket, returning her attention to the rest of the guests. Billy then went on to eat his piece of cake while, occasionally, turning to glance at Jenny.

"What is it? What is it?" asked Whitelace, trying to move closer.

"It's a necklace," said Barbara Ann. "With a little silver heart."

"A heart?"

"Yeah, like a heart shape with a little shiny stone in it."

"That's just odd."

"Julie's gift, now!" said Polly, calling everyone's attention. "What'd you reckon it is?"

"It's… Earrings?"

"It seems like that."

"Hm…"

After that, most gifts were either books or clothes. Grandma did bring a hand-sewn, doll-sized prairie dress: at the sight of it, Felicity burst out laughing, imagining Barbara Ann in it. Jenny forced a smile, said thanks and went on opening presents.

The sun was setting, and the sky was already changing colors. Jenny said goodbye to all her guests. Mom came inside, bringing all the scraps and leftovers and decorations. Jenny helped her for a while –all the toys went back to their places –and afterwards Jenny went upstairs to her room, still in her colorful floral dress and neat braided hair. She took off her new shiny shoes and let out a sigh. Her cheeks were flushed. She seemed to have had a great time.

The toys remained still but alert as she took the little box out of her pocket. Barbara Ann and Woody, both laid on the quilt, got the best vantage point. Jenny opened it cautiously, taking care not to break the little crepe paper bow that kept it together. Inside, as finally revealed, was a little notebook with a thin cardboard dustjacket, drawn by Billy's scraggly hand –with a pattern of horses galloping over a blue sky full with fluffy white clouds. Jenny smiled. The horses were clearly crude representations of Filbert, his toy horse, and all six of Jenny's –Bella, Ginger, Leguizamo, Whitelace, Smithy and Hazel. On the inside of the dustjacket was another pattern, this one of several colorful flowers. Jenny smiled widely. She closed the little notebook and left it on her nightstand.

After that birthday, the status quo began to slowly change. There were still playtimes, but instead of each afternoon after school, Jenny limited it to twice or thrice a week. The highlight of Woody's week remained the playdates with Billy, and even those became a weekly event. At first, the cowboy was sure it was only because of Jenny's heavier load of homework: she spent most afternoons sitting by her desk, reading books and writing essays for English class and solving equations for Math. It was normal, it was to be expected. Barbara Ann, through Felicity, advised him to avoid mentioning the garbage bin or the possibility of playtime being over. In fact, for the first time in what could have been seven or eight months, Barbara Ann in person asked him if he had seen something like this before. Woody had told her that they needn't worry, it was just natural for school to start getting a bit more difficult.

However, soon that assumption proved to be wrong. While yes, he and Barbara Ann and Bella and Ginger still were taken to Billy's house to play from time to time, the rest of the horses –and more distressingly, the three babes who didn't like being in the dark for too long –were spending longer and longer periods of time inside the toy box, there, available but forgotten. By Jenny's eleventh birthday, when again no more toys were added, the horses, the babes and the ragdolls had been shut in the toy box for a whole month. Woody, Felicity and Sophie had to act as chaperones to each of the babes during the night, to take them out of the box so they could at least be entertained and play a bit between themselves. Annie-Lou and Polly spent the time Jenny was in school reading her old childhood books, over and over, and gazing out the windows and making up stories for the passersby. Smithy, one of the youngest horses, got so restless that as soon as Jenny left to take the school bus, he began to run in circles around the carpet until he got himself too tired to move. While things seemed to be sort of patched up between Woody and Barbara Ann, the tension lingered. Woody knew that everyone in the room was thinking of obsolescence, of how long they had before being thrown away.

Jenny's thirteen birthday came and went without any news. Barbara Ann, Woody and Felicity kept watch by the window, making sure the rest knew what the girl had been gifted. But no one cared anymore.

The first casualty happened a month before Christmas. Joey, the crazy haired troll who cared for the horses –but didn't have much to do in quite a while –had slept the night outside the toy box without anyone noticing: when Jenny woke up the next morning, she accidentally stepped on him. She picked him up, combed his hair a bit with her fingers, and sighed quietly. Jenny went downstairs, had a short talk with Mom and, before any of them could do anything –before Woody could deploy one of his rescue missions –Joey was thrown in the garbage, just by the time the garbage truck came to take it away.

This was, expectedly, followed by chaos. The babes, crying loudly, embraced each other and refused to be comforted; Polly and Annie-Lou surrounded Felicity and demanded for her to give them explanations, to ensure that they would be spared the rejection; the horses neighed and stomped and fought each other, insulting the other, splitting into the team of the eldest and the newest –the ones in better shape –the ones who had been loved for longer. Woody tried to make Ginger and Bella reason with each other and solve their differences, but none would yield.

Only when Barbara Ann, standing on the edge of the bed, whistled loudly and called everyone's attention it was that some semblance of peace returned to Jenny's room. Woody let out a relieved sigh. If someone would be able to calm everyone down, that would be the room leader.

"Is this the way we behave here, fellas?" asked Barbara Ann, with her hands on her hips. "Fighting, crying, overwhelming your friends?" she said, now looking directly at Polly and Annie-Lou. "Ain't you ashamed of yourselves?"

"Joey was thrown away –who's to say who's next?" cried Whitelace.

"We're just trying to survive here!"

"We want answers!"

"We need certainties!"

"Well you're not getting' any of that, my friends," said Barbara Ann. "I'm not tellin' you anything because we just don't know anything about this situation. And yeah, I get it. It's scary, to find yourself in this place. In the dark… Without knowing how much longer you'll be here…"

Felicity raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. Barbara Ann cleared her throat.

"What I mean to say is that all this bedlam will achieve nothin' but get us all even more worked up," continued Barbara Ann, slightly, just barely, softening her tone. "If there was ever a situation in which we need to stand together, help each other out and support one another –this is it."

Woody smiled. Despite her surly attitude and short fuse, Barbara Ann managed her flock quite admirably.

"So I hope to see y'all in your best behavior. All of us elders here must take care of the youngins in these tryin' times. If you see someone in trouble, tell someone else. If someone needs a word of advice or a shoulder to cry on –try your best to supply it. And… If any of y'all need anything…" Barbara Ann took off her hat and scratched her nape. "I'll try to help you with what I can. We all knew this time was coming. And I need to apologize to y'all, for not havin' prepared you properly for this."

Woody turned to Felicity. She was gazing up at Barbara Ann with a little smile, her eyes bright.

"Felicity, dear," said Barbara Ann, as she climbed down the bed. "Please, can you manage the night watches? I need you making sure that everybody greets the morning inside the toy box, so nobody will end up like Joey –stayin' out late, bein' found in a strange place…"

"Got it, Barb," said Felicity.

"Great. Polly, Annie-Lou, I need you both to keep your hysteria down a notch. You gotta be there for Rosy, Sunny and Tiny. They're just babes, they're scared and they need your help. If you panic, they'll panic even more," said Barbara Ann, glaring at them. "I give you two this responsibility. Will you take this seriously, girls?"

"Yes, Barbara Ann," said Polly.

"You can count on us, Barbara Ann," said Annie-Lou.

"Wonderful. Sophie, I'm promoting you to be in charge of the horses. I know you're a calming presence: please, help them if something comes up. All of yous," she said, now facing the horses. "Keep in mind to care particularly for the littlest ones."

Sophie nodded, straightening her flat back. The horses neighed in agreement. Barbara Ann then turned to Woody.

"And you –you know what your job is, sheriff," she said resolutely. "But now you've to make sure everyone's absolutely up to date with the rescue missions' plans. If someone's taken away by accident, then we need all the hands we can get."

"Yes, miss," said Woody.

Barbara Ann let out a little exasperated smile. "That's just what I wanted to hear, sheriff."

The reunion was mostly successful: Woody went straight to teaching the horses and the ragdolls all they needed to know about rescues; how to climb over the furniture as easily and as quietly as possible, how to use ropes and curtains and whatever they could find as a way to move forward or to hide; the horses had some difficulties –hooves and a mostly stiff form made it hard to do the sorts of movements dolls could do with ease –but workarounds were invented.

Barbara Ann was the busiest of them all. She seemed to never take a break. Polly and Annie-Lou weren't really good at consoling the three babes, and so Barbara Ann –who had had plenty of experience dealing with a young child –taught them how to comfort and distract them. She talked to the horses often, chatting away the afternoons, laughing at their jokes and making her best to put on a brave face. At night, most people went into the toy box without a word; but when Sophie or Polly or Annie-Lou started weeping from the nightmares, Barbara Ann slipped away from Jenny's arms, had a quiet chat with Felicity, and then she'd know exactly what to say to them, just by the time Barbara Ann returned to bed.

And weeks, months, went on mercilessly. A new routine had been established, but Woody could still feel the tension when simply conversing with Sophie, or with Ginger, or even with Bella. Every time Mom entered the room, either to pick up something or to make the bed and vacuum, everyone hid –nobody was out of the toy box, nobody left laid on the carpet or by the windowsill.

Sometime just before Jenny's fourteenth birthday, Woody was counting everyone at the toy box –something he didn't really need to do anymore, nobody broke the curfew; but just before closing the lid, he heard a small, restrained sob. He opened the lid a bit more, to let the light in –trying to see who was it that was crying, who was needing comforting and a moment of companionship –but then he realized the sound came from outside. Woody looked over to the hall. No, that wasn't it. The bed. Was Jenny crying? And if she was…

Woody stepped out of the toy box. Felicity peeked out and gasped.

"What're you doing, sheriff?" she exclaimed in a whisper. "You're gonna get lost!"

"I'll be back in a minute," he answered quietly, moving forward.

He stopped by the nightstand, trying to get a look of what was happening on the top of the bed. Jenny was sleeping soundly, breathing normally. She wasn't the one crying. And where in the world was Barbara Ann?

Woody finally noticed where the crying came from. He slowly walked to the hem of the quilt, lift it up, and, in the darkness from under the bed, he saw a figure.

"Barbara Ann?" he asked. "What's wrong…?"

The bandit turned around –and at the sight of Woody turned her back to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is there anything the matter—?"

"Go back to the toy box…"

"You're –you're crying…"

"No I'm not!" she exclaimed, furiously, her voice cracking. "Go back to your post, cowboy!"

Woody didn't know what to do. He knew he had a responsibility to her –as she had said, to help each other out and support one another –but it appeared that if he tried to do that, Barbara Ann would tear him to pieces. But then again…

He kneeled beside her. He was already expecting the glare she gave him.

"I said—"

"It's alright, Barbara Ann…" said Woody. "You needn't worry; I mean, look at you! You're still in mint condition, you're… you're quite pretty, if you don't mind me saying so, and any kid would love to play with you… This isn't the end, not really. After all, you've always been Jenny's favorite. She'll surely find a place for you."

Barbara Ann turned her cold blue eyes to him with an increasingly murderous look.

"You'll live a new life, with another kid. Just you wait," Woody insisted. "Listen, I went through this; I can help you, if you want me to—"

"I want you to go back to the toy box. That's where you have to be!"

"Well –you should be up there with Jenny!" he said, trying to smile, trying to remind her how much Jenny loved her. That usually would make her smile a bit, at least. It didn't this time.

"Just leave, or I'll—"

"Barb?"

They both turned as light softly poured into the darkness of under the bed. Felicity was rushing to them.

"Barb, what's wrong?" she asked her, putting her ragdoll hand on the bandit's shoulder. She then glanced at the cowboy. "Go back to the toy box, Woody. Really –just go, I got this."

Woody looked at them both, at how Felicity sat beside Barbara Ann, hugged her and whispered something in her ear. He walked away –he got inside the toy box –and closed the lid.

A few days later, during which Barbara Ann did not sleep in Jenny's bed nor in the toy box –she was sat on a bookshelf, besides elementary school textbooks –and she did not attend the daily meetings –she relinquished her authority to Felicity –finally she came down the shelf, while Jenny was at the movies with her parents. Everyone gathered around her, asking her what had happened.

"Jenny no longer sleeps with me," she said matter-of-factly. "And, well, she no longer plays with me either. It's a truth we need to acknowledge. Our girl, our Jenny… She's no longer the child she used to be."

Having someone say it out loud clearly dissipated some of the tension that had been mounting up those last years. Bella went to Barbara Ann and nuzzled her arm. She smiled and stoke his soft black hair.

"But she's still our Jenny, after all. And we're her toys –we need to be here for her. Who knows… perhaps in a few years she'll decide to donate us to some other kid. Or even better –like with our local sheriff, who was Dad's… Perhaps we'll get to see Jenny as a parent."

Woody smiled. Barbara Ann glanced at him, gave him a little apologetic smile and a head nod.

"A lot of time has to go by for that to happen… So I guess all we fellas need to do is wait."

"But –what if we're taken?" asked Hazel, nervously.

"What if Mom finds us and throws us away in the garbage, like with Joey?" asked Smithy.

"Then…" Barbara Ann began saying, but stopped herself. Woody knew that look –that lack of answers, that difficulty to find the right way to soothe people's anxieties. "Then we'll deploy our rescue missions, but… If Mom or Jenny decide that our time is up, then…"

"Then we're done for?"

Silence. Barbara Ann let out a sigh. Only then Woody realized how tired she seemed. She no longer held herself with her head high, her legs stiff, her hands on her hips. She stood rather skewed, head slightly hanging, her black hat drooping over the right side of her face.

"I'm afraid so, my dears. But we all knew this time would come. Yes, our halcyon days are past behind us, but…" said Barbara Ann. "We need to keep in mind that we were made for this –to be played with, to be our kid's toy—"

"And we all have Jenny to thank for the best years in our lives," said Felicity. "We were nobody before –and since we first arrived here, we were nothing but loved."

An agreeing mumble ran across the crowd.

"Jenny still remembers us. If she didn't, she wouldn't have kept us in her room –she wouldn't have held on to us," said Barbara Ann.

"And Jenny has been playing with us for several years," added Woody. "I'm sure a lot if not all of us will be kept in the family, probably in some attic or in some box –just stored for when Jenny has her own kids."

Polly and Annie-Lou exchanged an excited look. Felicity held Barbara Ann's hand.

"I just needed y'all to hear it from my own mouth," said Barbara Ann. "I wanted everyone to know –we're together in this. We've come this far –and we'll stay together till the end."

Everyone let out a Hear, hear!, and with that, the meeting was over. Polly and Annie-Lou took the babes to play by the bookshelves, while the horses run a few laps to stretch their legs. Barbara Ann and Felicity, however, went to the windowsill, apart from everyone else. Woody, by Sophie's side, kept his eyes fixed on them.

"What d'you reckon they're talking about?" he asked Sophie. She raised her eyes from the running horses, looked at the window and shrugged, not very interested. "You know, when I heard Barbara Ann crying, Felicity was the one who got to help her –not me…"

And then, out of a sudden, Barbara Ann let out a short loud gasp and hugged Felicity. Woody was startled, but no one else seemed surprised.

"Whatever was that?" he asked Sophie. She, again, raised her eyes and saw Felicity and Barbara Ann, wrapped in a tight embrace. She turned to Woody and smiled knowingly. "What?"

Sophie just shrugged and looked back at the race, with a goofy grin on her face. Woody looked back at the bandit and her friend, still hugging, still keeping the other as close as possible.

What had happened, as Barbara Ann herself announced to the rest of the toys, was that she and Felicity were now officially a couple. Everyone cheered –especially Bella and Polly, who had known Felicity had had a crush on the bandit for quite the long time. Woody, who was completely unaware of this, was surprised but quite glad to see Barbara Ann openly smile out of pure happiness.

Annie-Lou, absolutely delighted about the news of a romance in the room, immediately got to organize a mock wedding. Bella and Woody were to be the best men, while Sophie cut and sewed –from an old black t-shit that Jenny didn't wear anymore –a custom-fitted tux for Felicity to wear; Polly contributed with the tulle from her favorite dress to make a veil for the bride to wear, and Tiny, Sunny and Rosy managed to make, with their tiny hands, several colorful paper flowers with which to make decorations, garlands, crowns and, of course, the bouquet. It was an unexpected but needed joyful event, all things considered. All the toys were kept distracted and enthused. Even the horses, practicing their marching and synchronization were all busy and excited for the grand event.

The wedding was celebrated on the bed, with all the toys climbing up together, taking advantage of the fact Jenny and her parents were out of town visiting some relatives. The three babes, assisted by Annie-Lou, tied the paper flowers all around the white wire headboard, and gave each "guest" a flower crown to wear. Polly and Sophie managed to make Jenny's music player work, and they all danced and bounced on the bed, many of them for the first time in their lives. Barbara Ann, in her prairie dress, and Felicity, in her makeshift tux, danced with each other, jumped around and laughed, with their flower crowns –Felicity's lopsided on her big ragdoll head, Barbara Ann's safely fixed around the band of her black hat, with the tangled vail pinned to it. Woody danced with Sophie and with Ginger, and despite not being playtime, despite him not being the hero, he had a really grand time, and finally understood why people liked getting married.

After the dancing, Felicity threw her bouquet and Annie-Lou, being the tallest one of all the toys, easily managed to catch it. The night was coming, and with it the car bringing the family home; Woody and Annie-Lou managed to pick all the paper flowers, rewind the music cassettes and make sure nothing was left on the bed just before the Oakleys arrived. As the toys scrammed and ran off to their places, Felicity and Barbara Ann quickly pulled their wedding costumes off, trying to help the other and help themselves, and then –when they hastily got into their normal clothes –there was the question of where to put them…

"God, I'm exhausted…" said Jenny, yawning and entering her room. Woody was closing the toy box lid –just when he saw Barbara Ann, still on the bed, just as Felicity jumped off. Jenny threw herself on the bed –which was getting smaller, as she was a lot taller than she used to be. Woody wondered how old she was now –fifteen, sixteen? He had forgotten when her last birthday had been. The doubt left him a pang of guilt. It was grand to have fun even when their kid was older, when they were to wait for their next opportunity to be played with; and yet, she was still their kid. They still were hers. And truly, having such a big party –all the toys on the bed, jumping around, with all those delicate paper flowers that they surely hadn't cleaned away completely –had been a great risk. While Jenny sighed, breathed and rested for a moment, Woody kept his gaze on the black hat of Barbara Ann, still on the bed. Should he have told her something, tried to make so that the wedding was made on the carpet, where it would be safer? Should she have been more cautious? If Jenny found someone out of the toy box, someone just slightly broken or chipped from jumping and dancing, who was to blame?

Jenny groaned and raised her head. She saw Barbara Ann –the girl frowned –and sat on her bed, picking the doll up. Jenny blinked, scratching her head, and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. As Barbara Ann's face was lit up, and Jenny saw her, and recognized her, she smiled. Woody, from his hiding place –as well as the rest of the toys who were also peeking through the barely-open crack of the toy box –smiled too.

Then, Jenny left Barbara Ann on her bed, went to the bathroom and washed her teeth and changed into her pajamas. Barbara Ann didn't move yet –how could she, after being held again, after so many years? And Jenny came back, sat on the bed, and picked her doll once more, stroking her knotty blond hair.

"Public enemy number one…" she said quietly, to herself. "Notorious thief and outlaw Barbara Ann 'Bandit' Barlow."

Jenny straightened the black hat on Barbara Ann's head, put her black coat properly over her shoulders, and raised her doll higher, so her scratched plastic skin would catch the light better. And then, Jenny lowered her voice and gave it a bad Southern drawl. "If crime's my only path to survival, it'll be the path I'll take."

She laughed out loud, lowering Barbara Ann and resting her on her lap. She continued fidgeting with her, pulling at her white top, her hat, her worn coat, the coarsely-made brown boots. Woody wondered what was going on in his kid's head. Was she noticing that, after all that time, her doll was that –a doll, nothing more, nothing less? Or was she remembering everything, every time she held her doll and made her voice and made her fight against the law? Was she remembering every playtime, every game, every movie night, every moment she played and laughed and was happy with them, as Woody was?

She took Barbara Ann's hat and boots off, sighing deeply. Jenny tucked herself into bed, and left Barbara Ann next to her, carefully settling her on the pillow. She didn't hold her like she used to do, when she was a child; but as she turned the light off and slowly dozed off into a deep sleep, Jenny gazed at her old favorite, with the tenderness of when someone reunites with a best friend one hadn't seen in the longest time –to find that friend to have remained just the same.

Woody wished Davy had done something like that once, just once, before putting him on the shelf.

Next morning came, and Woody and Barbara Ann, without really saying anything to each other about the topic, both started to dig into Jenny's backpack, her notebooks –Barbara Ann even dared to unfold the small ripped pieces of paper she passed to her friends during class, which Jenny stored on the little pocket on the side. Like two detectives, bandit and sheriff investigated who their kid had become.

Jenny Oakley was, indeed, in the tenth grade; she had great grades in Math, English and Art; was somehow lacking, however, in History, Gym and Biology. She was quite sociable: besides little notes from Ann, she had from other girls named Lisa, Nancy, Diane. There were a few notebooks filled with stories written in tiny words, chapters for unfinished novels, character ideas, several concepts yet to develop, brief poems, quotes from other books.

"She's become quite the storyteller," Woody commented one lazy Saturday, while reading Jenny's notebook.

"Yeah… It's strange –I was rather expecting her to become a lawyer, a doctor, something of the sort… She's always seemed so smart and so determined…" said Barbara Ann, quietly, reading her English essays. "But it appears Jenny has the soul of an artist."

Woody nodded. Of course, there was no way to know what she would become –she was still young, still a child –but he hoped Jenny never lost that enthusiasm that moved her to fill so many notebooks with ideas of stories. He and Barbara Ann were quite pleased to find a notebook with the Story of Sheriff Pride and Barlow the Bandit –one of the few stories made in collaboration with one Billy Davis –but the story was not finished, and it had a wide open ending –Barlow was holding on for dear life on a rope, all that was left of the wagon in which she had been escaping from the law, which fell off a cliff she had intended to jump. Almost all of the cavalry had fallen to their deaths, but Woody had managed to stop Ginger before reaching the edge. And then, after years of fighting, he had the choice to help the criminal he had hoped for so long would stop terrorizing his town, or to let her fall to her death –since, after all, she had gotten into this situation out of her own greed. It would seem like a clear moral choice –Woody would always help those in need, no matter how wicked they were –but after so long, after all the threats to his friends and family, after all the opportunities he had given her to redeem herself, after all that time… The Sheriff wasn't so sure she deserved another chance anymore.

"Would you let me fall, sheriff?" Barbara Ann asked him with a smirk.

"Of course not," he said, closing the notebook, rather offended she even had to ask.

"I know that, Woody," she said. "I was just joking…"

He kept on reading through other notebooks, and soon found more stories written in collaboration with Billy. A few were draft chapters of the Sheriff and Bandit stories, but many were about young investigators, corrupt cops, unsolved crimes and conspiracies revealed. One afternoon, Felicity read one of these stories out loud for the rest of the toys to hear; it was like watching TV again –or perhaps even comparable to the most motionless playtime ever.

So, in this way, even as time went on, the toys tried their best to be a part of Jenny's life. They always made sure her textbooks were ready in her backpack –to throw away any forgotten apples or sandwiches to the bin –to always put an extra hair tie and ink pen in her pencil case –and to leave her empty water bottle in sight so she could remember to refill it. When the next birthday came, Woody's usual rescue missions were refashioned so that most of the toys –horses still had difficulties being quiet and nimble –could see the party nearby, see the celebration and her friends and family gathered with her. Woody would look at Barbara Ann and notice, as clear as a full moon in the deep of night, how she felt so proud of Jenny –of how she was growing, of who she was becoming.

And after the party, Woody would tell the horses and the babes all about the get-together, all about the gifts and the jokes and the guests. He was getting into the toy box, opening the lid so everyone could get in, when Jenny came into the room. Woody had to let the lid closed –and play dead, still, against the box. He cussed his foolishness, reminding himself that by bedtime Jenny walked around in her slippers and she was much quieter than usual. Fortunately, Jenny didn't seem to notice him. She got into bed, leaving Barbara Ann on her pillow, beside her. She turned the light off and went to sleep.

As soon as the snoring started, Woody stood up and tried to get in the toy box. And then –there was a soft muffled sound of fabric –and he petrified, terrified by the possibility of Jenny having woken up all of a sudden. But it was a much lower sound than that that could be caused by a grown person. He turned around slowly. Barbara Ann was slipping out from under the sheets, carefully walking over the quilt, and getting off the bed.

Woody decided to stay out for a little while.

Barbara Ann then climbed through the desk drawers to the desk, and then to the windowsill. There, almost immediately, Felicity appeared from out of the shadows. Woody blinked, and wondered if there was something wrong –if there were having a secret nightly meeting, if there was something the matter that Barbara Ann deemed only safe to discuss with her partner.

But no. Barbara Ann and Felicity sat by each other's side, they held hands and gazed out the windows, chatting quietly between them. They seemed to have no hurry, no pressure, no concerns. It was just a little date.

What was Barbara Ann doing?, wondered Woody. She had been back in Jenny's bed! She was Jenny's favorite once more! That was nothing short of a miracle! Why would she slip away from that? Woody understood the bandit loved Felicity –it was clear, and it was wonderful, and he felt that their love was truly pure and true –but like she always said, they were Jenny's toys. What if Jenny had a nightmare? What if she woke up and didn't find her doll by her side?

Woody couldn't help feeling bitter anger at the room leader. What wouldn't he give to relive those moments of feeling so appreciated by his kid? Felicity's feelings towards her wouldn't change, they'd have plenty of time together. Jenny's feelings could very well change tomorrow, the very next day she could easily put Barbara Ann on the shelf, or worse, put her in a box and lock her in the basement. Everything could change suddenly, they were all at Jenny's whim, and Barbara Ann wasted her time with her by sitting on the windowsill?

Woody considered slipping into the bed, thinking of how Davy would find comfort in holding something tight and close to him. But no, of course that wouldn't work. He was not Jenny's favorite. That wasn't his place. And yet…

The sheriff quietly opened the toy box, got inside and closed it. He stayed in the darkness, unable to sleep, too angry at Barbara Ann to get some rest. So all her words about him being selfish for wanting to be Billy's toy –it had all been hypocrisy.

She was now the thankless, ungrateful gosh-darn toy.

The next morning –the next morning for several weeks Woody avoided talking to Barbara Ann; she would have the same treatment he got, after all. However, Barbara Ann was so busy with other things that it would be hard for Woody to say for sure that his behavior was even registered.

Since things got quite more relaxed –the toys played around, got themselves distractions for the long wait –and nobody seemed to follow each other's actions too much –which Woody knew was a hazard, and yet said nothing to Barbara Ann about this, since after all he was not in speaking terms with her –Woody ventured downstairs more often. While Sophie played with the babes, Annie-Lou and Polly braided their hair, Felicity and Barbara Ann were in their dates and the horses played races, he could easily slip out the room and just pass some time in the living room, watching TV. There were reruns of the shows he had liked from when Davy was growing up, so he rewatched those, chuckling at the jokes and punchlines he already knew. While watching the ads absentmindedly, he thought, I am so much older than all of them, all of the toys in Jenny's room. Woody had been around in that house ever since Davy was a boy. He had been there before the color TV, before the lamps, before the photos on the mantle. Days passed by, as he went down the stairs, up the stairs, watched TV, ignored by the rest, just letting time go through him. The bitterness never truly left. He stayed up for a while after getting back into the toy box, just long enough to check and yes –every night, invariably, Barbara Ann went to the window. And so he went back downstairs, upstairs, while Mom was out shopping, Jenny was in school, Dad was in the office. If he turned off the sound of the TV, Woody could easily imagine he was the only one in the whole house. It certainly felt like it.

By the time Jenny was seventeen, it had been a while since she had put Barbara Ann back into the toy box –Dad had found her sleeping with her doll, and he hadn't stopped joking about it ever since –and, while Woody still didn't really talk with her, Barbara Ann's initial newlywed bliss was evidently gone. Nobody said it –once again, nobody had to say anything –but the time in the toy box felt less like waiting for some grand event, less like the nervous expectation that comes before some amazing miracle, and more like serving their sentence. They were let out during the day, and did their activities and routines, quietly, which had all become stale and tedious, and then when Jenny returned they went back into the toy box, their cell.

"At least it isn't like time just stopped," commented Barbara Ann one day, trying her best to lift everyone's spirits. "At least the months and years go by… At least soon we'll see Jenny all grown up, ready to give us away to a new kid."

Felicity nodded, with a tired smile. Barbara Ann turned to Woody.

"What d'you say, sheriff?" she asked him. "How much longer do you reckon we'll have to wait?"

"Beats me," said Woody quietly. Barbara Ann frowned –good, he thought. "It could be quite a while. And to be quite honest—"

"What type of honesty's that?" asked Barbara Ann, interrupting him. "The one that says good things, or the one that's eager to make everyone as miserable?"

Woody glared at her. Barbara Ann glared right back at him.

"Any of these days," he said even more quietly, so that only she would hear him. "Who knows who of all of us'll end up in a new home, or in the basement, or in the garbage…"

Barbara Ann shoved him away. Woody, impassive, simply straightened his hat.

"I guess then there'll be no kid to save us," he said. Barbara Ann looked at him not with her usual glare –but with a gaze of pure terror. Good, he thought, about time she became as afraid as the rest of us.

Woody walked away from her and onto the window above the desk, the place that had been too long Barbara Ann and Felicity's spot. They had no reason to hoard the view of the outside for themselves. There was not much to see –the weather, the backyard where Dad tried to make several projects that never came to fruition –like a swing Jenny was too old to use, or a barbecue with too many assembly parts –though sometimes Woody did manage to see Billy by the window, either busy with his homework, reading or chatting with someone on the phone. During those moments, when he could see the boy, Woody wondered how things would have changed if he had tried to stay in his house. Perhaps he would have ended up being the room leader. Perhaps Billy would still have him around, not in a toy box but on the nightstand, like Davy did when he was growing up. Perhaps Billy would not forget about him, and keep him close by, and still play with him. What rule said that older kids couldn't play with their toys?

Anyways, that was the place he stayed in for the following months. When Sophie wanted someone to play cards with, he would accept the offer, but beyond that he became a hermit. By the window, watching the world outside, and downstairs, watching the TV, Woody spent Jenny's eighteenth birthday. None of the toys really did anything for the occasion –Barbara Ann mentioned it, but that was it.

But a few weeks after Jenny's birthday, Woody saw something –and he immediately stood up –and gasped loud enough to break the silence and call everyone's attention.

"What is it?"

"What happened?"

"Was there an accident?"

Woody had no words. He looked down at the toys on the carpet, then at the window, then back at the carpet, unable to speak. Barbara Ann rushed up the desk and onto the windowsill, and looked to where Woody was pointing.

"What in the…"

Barbara Ann gasped. It was all the rest of the toys needed –as they hurried to reach the desk, to see out the window.

And, as they all witnessed, Jenny was next door –in Billy's arms –and they were kissing. Polly immediately covered the babes' eyes. Barbara Ann's eyes were wide open like windows in the middle of summer. Everyone was too shocked to say anything –until Felicity let out a brief chuckle.

"Well –would you look at that!"

"We are looking, Felicity," said Leguizamo.

"It was… I was sort of expecting it, to be honest," commented Annie-Lou. "I've always been of the opinion the two of them had plenty of chemistry."

"Chemistry?" exclaimed Barbara Ann. "She's a child!"

"She's a teenager," said Bella matter-of-factly. "Teenagers go on dates and kiss other teenagers and do all those sort of things."

"But –she's our kid…!"

"Now, come on, Barb," said Felicity, taking her hand. "Really… It isn't that surprising that she has a boyfriend already."

"And it's Billy!" said Ginger. "There's not a better boy she could have landed."

"I agree," said Woody, when he managed to regain his speech. "I mean, it's… It's a strange sight, but… If they're happy…"

Barbara Ann continued looking out the window. Jenny and Billy had stopped kissing for a moment, and were now simply hugging each other, sitting on his bed. Billy's hand stroked her hair, touching it tenderly. Barbara Ann sighed.

"Yeah… Guess you're all right."

"C'mon, everyone… It's rude to stare, y'know," said Felicity, and everyone climbed down from the desk. Woody was the last one to leave, as he gave a last glance at how, once more, his kid had reached another milestone that pushed them closer to adulthood, and pushed him back into obsolescence.

#toy story #toy story 4 #bo peep #woody pride #fanfiction

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