What a Doll! by P.J. Night Read Free Book Online Page B

Emmy’s day. Her parents had a rule that the four of them sit down together each night, no matter how busy they all were. Her dad liked to do something called “highs and lows,” which was when everyone went around the table and said the worst and best parts of their day. Emmy didn’t even have to think about her low.
    â€œMy low kind of lasted all day,” she admitted. Her mom gave her a sympathetic look, and her dad raised his eyebrows. Sam seemed involved with his meat loaf.
    â€œDo tell,” her dad said.
    â€œLizzy broke her leg,” Emmy told her parents, then realized by the looks on their faces that they already knew. Of course they did; Lizzy’s mom would have told them. “And she was the center of attention all day, like no one had ever seen a cast before. Everyone was falling all over themselves trying to help her.”
    Her mom put down her fork. “I don’t suppose she asked you for any help,” she said gently.
    â€œThat’s right,” Emmy said. “She basically ignored me all day. Then in English she wrote this really overly dramatic haiku that she read to the class. I think she loves the attention.”
    Her parents were silent.
    â€œShe’s such a drama queen!” Emmy exclaimed as tears sprung to her eyes. She didn’t even feel like finishing her meat loaf, which was one of her favorite meals.
    â€œOh, honey,” her mom said. “That sounds really hard.” Her dad nodded in agreement.
    â€œDid your day have a high point?” her dad asked. Emmy had to think hard to find something good to say.
    â€œMy math homework was really easy,” she said reluctantly.
    â€œThat’s great,” her mom said. “You’ve been doing really well in math this year. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you do something nice for yourself tonight? Since you’ve finished your homework, why don’t I set up the TV in your room and you can watch a movie before you go to sleep?”
    Emmy had to admit that sounded pretty good.
    â€œCan I watch it too?” Sam asked.
    â€œFor a while,” Emmy said.
    Sam smiled, pleased. “Hey, cool nails,” he said to his sister.
    â€œYeah, honey,” their mom added. “That’s a bold new look for you.”
    â€œThanks,” Emmy said, holding out her fingers and admiring them.
    Later, as she got under the covers and her mom popped in a DVD, Emmy felt like she could stay in bed forever. In fact, it felt so good to be in bed that she found herself nodding off and falling asleep before the movie even really got going.
    She had crazy dreams, bits and pieces of weirdness that she wouldn’t even be able to remember—much less describe—when she woke up. But one part she would remember. It was about Lizzy.
    Lizzy, sitting at her kitchen table, a bowl of strawberries next to her and a bunch of rainbow-colored permanent markers strewn about. She didn’t look like her usual carefree self. She looked horrible—terribly unhappy. She clutched a bottle of black nail polish reluctantly but so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
    Slowly, Lizzy pried open the bottle and began painting her thumbnail black. The way she was acting, it was as if someone was making her do it, as if she was being forced to proceed but was trying to fight it. Once she had applied a few strokes, Lizzy held out her thumbnail and examined it, frowning. She repeated this procedure for each of her ten nails and when she was finished, she held out her hands and grimaced.
    â€œWhat, you don’t like it?” Emmy asked, looking on. She felt wild and cruel. “I think it looks cool.”
    Emmy woke up with a start and tried to fit together the pieces of her dream. Too often, remembering her dreams was like holding a handful of dry sand—when she tried, the sand just slowly slipped through her fingers. All she could remember about her dream was that it was about