Shattered Girls (Broken Dolls Book 2)

by Tyrolin Puxty

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  © 2016 Tyrolin Puxty

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  Cover by Eugene Teplitsky

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  ISBN 978-1-62007-687-3 (ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-62007-688-0 (paperback)

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  ut I hate staying in your bag all day! It’s suffocating!”

  “You’re a doll. It’s physically impossible for you to suffocate.” Gabby pushes me deeper into the eternal darkness. Argh. I don’t think she’s ever actually cleaned this bag out; crumbs war for space with old bits of paper at the bottom. Thank God I can’t smell, because I get the feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  I could sense at that moment it was going to be a bad day. The dark clouds, the thunder… it was like the beginning of a horror film.

  “Gabby, please let me out just this once! I’ll pretend to be inanimate! No one will ever suspect that I used to be human. I just want to learn like everyone else.”

  “Ella, you’re lucky I even bring you to school,” she lectures through the open zip. “I could leave you at home all day.”

  I fold my arms. Stupid, petulant, big-headed, stubborn pre-teens!

  She walks into the school, her stride kind of sloppy and bouncy at the same time. We’re ten minutes early, so Gabby joins her friends to hang with before the bell rings.

  I don’t like Gabby’s friends. Frenemies, rather. At first, I thought it was because I was jealous, but I’m pretty sure it’s because they’re just horrible.

  “Well, if it isn’t Gabby Odd-Socks,” Brenda greets, in that sly voice of hers. I hate everything about that girl. Her harshly cut bob, her lazy eyes, her concave chest.

  I can’t see Gabby from this angle, but I imagine she’s rolling her eyes. “Knock it off, Brenda. That happened once. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “You cried like a baby when we pointed it out.” Brenda cackles, encouraging the others to join in.

  “That was ages ago! Talk about being stuck in the past,” Gabby mumbles, flinging her bag to the ground. It lands with a thud, and I hit my head on the zip. I peek through and snarl at Brenda’s cocky little grin. Her little minions are the equally nasty Devin and Jess, who are grimacing more than they’re smiling.

  “Whatever.” Brenda checks her nails, temporarily trounced. “Remember that time when we all went camping? That was funny.” Gabby doesn’t respond, so Brenda dramatically gasps. “Whoops! Sorry, Gabby. I forgot you weren’t invited. You’re not invited to many things, are you?”

  Gabby’s learned not to react, so instead of speaking up, she forces a laugh, shakes her head, and tries to walk off. Brenda steps in her way.

  “What’s wrong, Gabby? Cat got your tongue?”

  “No. I just don’t see the point in arguing with someone who has unresolved rejection issues.”

  “I don’t have rejection issues. In fact, I have too many offers. Did you hear Raymond asked me out? I’m still deciding whether to say yes or no.”

  Gabby clicks her tongue, so I push my head through the gap to see what’s going on.

  “That’s the fifth guy to ask me out this year. How many have asked you out, Dev?”

  Devin shifts uncomfortably. “Two.”

  “And what about you, Jess?”

  “Just the one. I’m still with him. It’s been seven months, and—”

  “—yeah, yeah.” Brenda waves her off. “And that leaves little Gabby Odd-Socks. How many boys have asked you out this year?”

  Gabby stares Brenda down. “I don’t even know why you’re bringing this up. No one cares.”

  “Maybe I should rephrase the question. How many boys have asked you out this century?” Brenda throws her head back and brays. “Zero! What boy would ever like a weird, sick lesbo like you?”

  “And what’s wrong with being a lesbian?” Gabby asks. I can just picture the faux-curious arch of her eyebrows.

  “Oh, you’re right.” Brenda fake-yawns. “It’s not like being into chicks will affect you, anyway. You were part of that epidemic last year, weren’t you? I watched all the videos. None of the survivors can have kids now.” A tear rolls down Gabby’s cheek, and my heart breaks. Please don’t cry, Gabby! “It’s a good thing, because you shouldn’t pass on your genetic code. Not that you would anyway, lesbian.”

  That’s it. I burst from the bag, jump to the floor and point an angry finger at Brenda.

  “HEY! She is not a lesbian! And even if she was, she’s still a better human than you’ll ever be!”

  Silence. Everyone stares at me in pure horror. Oh crap, what have I done? I’ve never been exposed before! Gabby’s eyes widen and her throat tightens. Boy, does she look like the professor now.

  “What is that?” Devin demands, more intrigued than scared. She whips out her phone and immediately starts filming.

  Gabby reaches for Devin to stop, but Brenda pushes her away. “Nah-uh. Looks like you got some weird little alien doll thing. Let’s see what it can do.”

  “No, Brenda!” Gabby bends over to pick me up. Before she has a chance to, Brenda snatches me and shakes me around violently.

  “STOP!” I shriek. I can’t die, and I can’t feel, but that doesn’t mean I like what she’s doing.

  “Leave her alone!” Gabby screams, failing in her attempt to grab me from Brenda, who gleefully ducks and weaves.

  “Oh, so this little thing means a lot to you?” Brenda trills.

  “Please, don’t do that,” I ask as politely as I can, but I sound mortified. “Please, put me back.”

  Brenda doesn’t listen. She never does. She yanks at my arms, a little startled when they don’t come off.

  “The professor made me unbreakable after the last time,” I warn. “Only Gabby and I know how to detach my limbs.”

  “Unbreakable?” Brenda asks. “What does that mean?”

  “Ella, shh!” Gabby whispers. “You’re not unbreakable! He just made you out of stronger plastic!”

  Brenda stares at Gabby, before shrugging. “Seriously, I knew you were weird, but I didn’t know you were this weird. Dev, Jess—follow me!”

  Brenda suddenly bolts, Dev and Jess in tow, filming every excruciating second. I scream down the hall, regretting having ever doubted Gabby. I should’ve stayed in the bag.

  “Help me!” I scream as Brenda skids into the science lab. “Gabby! Where are you?!”

  Brenda places me on the counter. There’s no one in here, which is just my luck. Where’s Mr. Block when you need him?

  Oh no. Brenda’s setting up the Bunsen burner. My eyes bug when the flame appears. “Hey doll thing. What’s your name?”

  I pause. “Ella.” I look into the camera and smooth my tutu. “I’m… I’m a robot.”

  “You don’t make mechanical noises like a robot,” Jess protests.

  “Sure I do! Listen!” I move my arms and attempt ventriloquism by making robotic noises with my mouth half closed.

  Brenda snickers. “Okay, it is pretty cute. It’s a shame I’m going to destroy it.”

  “What?” Devin flinches, keeping the camera on
me. “Why?”

  “Because I hate Gabby. She loves this robot doll thing, right? I’m gonna mess it up real bad.”

  “Please, don’t,” I say, but Brenda has already jammed the flame into my gut. My leotard quickly melts away, exposing my shiny stomach. “I said, don’t!”

  Brenda seems disappointed, like she expected me to combust. She sighs and pulls the Bunsen away, but the damage is already done. My leotard is completely ruined.

  “Leave her alone!” Gabby appears at the doorway, her neck stooped and her shoulders raised. She charges Brenda and wrestles her to the ground. “Give her back!”

  Brenda grins and shakes her head, pinning Gabby to the floor. “I’d much rather do this.” I’m plunged into darkness as she bites into my neck and rips my head off. She spits out my body, which lands on Gabby’s chest, who screams. I’m really dazed. It’s weird looking down at my body like this.

  Brenda dangles my head in front of Gabby.

  “ELLA!” Gabby cries. “Dev, you’re my friend! Stop filming and do something!”

  “Yeah, Dev!” I repeat, disgusted by Brenda’s drool sliding down my cheek.

  And it works. Devin stops filming and tucks the phone in her back pocket. She tears me away from Brenda and passes my wet head back to Gabby, who promptly fits it back onto my body. Okay, that was certainly surreal.

  “Brenda, that’s enough!” Devin says as the bell rings. “You went too far.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Brenda reaches for Devin’s phone. Before anyone thinks to stop her, she presses a few buttons and throws the phone back at Dev. “Now I’ve gone too far. Have a nice day.”

  Brenda turns on her heel and leaves with her nose proudly in the air. Gabby cuddles into me, wiping Brenda’s spit with her shirt.

  “What was she talking about?” Jess’s voice trembles. I almost feel sorry for her.

  Devin sighs and passes the phone to Gabby. Together we lean in and gasp. The video has just been uploaded to YouTube. And it’s called Devil Doll.

  “Coming up this hour, a young girl claims to have a doll possessed by the devil.”

  Gabby groans and curls her legs close to her chest.

  I pass her a crisp she’d dropped earlier and sink into the sofa. “It could be worse. Truly. I mean, they just think I’m a robot.”

  “It couldn’t be worse. We’ve been exposed!” Gabby throws herself into the cushion, her scream muffled by the fabric.

  I tap my feet together, satisfied with the new periwinkle leotard Gabby bought for me. As far as I’m concerned, everything is great. Since the news story, people want to see me and talk to me at school.

  The infamous video that Devin filmed flashes on the TV screen, the footage shaky and blurred. They’ve somehow edited it to make Brenda look heroic for burning me, the Devil Doll, before I hurt someone.

  There’s a knock. Gabby’s parents aren’t home, so she reluctantly pulls herself from the sofa. I jump off and follow, cuddling her ankle when she stares at the door.

  “Dad always said never open the door,” she mumbles. “I haven’t brushed my hair. And I’m in track pants.” She bends over to pick me up and place me on her shoulder. “I have a bad feeling it’s the press.”

  “So what if it is? Tell them how cool I am!”

  Gabby inhales and reaches for the knob, just as someone knocks again. The door swings open, and as predicted, several journalists with cameras, microphones and notepads jostle for space.

  “Gabrielle, where did you get this so-called Devil Doll?”

  “Aren’t you a little old to be playing with dolls?”

  “Where can other children purchase this high-tech, state of the art invention?”

  “Our sources tell us the doll’s name is Gabriella. Did you name the doll after yourself?”

  The camera flashes are blinding, and the reporters babble over one another. Nothing makes sense.

  “Please stop!” Gabby pleads, but she can’t be heard. “Leave me alone!”

  “Gabrielle! We hear your family has a scientific background. Did they create this doll-robot?”

  “You were once part of the epidemic. Tell us how you survived!”

  “Is it true your father is on the verge of a medical breakthrough?”

  “Your mother writes up your father’s findings. What are your plans when you leave school?”

  “Tell us, do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Our sources told us you might be ga―”

  “STOP!” Gabby screams, slamming the door in their faces. She hurries to the curtains and draws them shut, but we can still hear their voices.

  “Gabby, it’s okay,” I whisper, but she’s already slid down the wall to the floor. She sobs into the carpet, reaching out for me and squeezing me against her chest so she has something to cuddle.

  Sometimes, even big girls need their dolls.

  “You were foolish taking Ella to school.” Gabby’s dad crosses his arms and blocks the front door.

  “I’ve gotta get going, Jason.” Gabby refuses to make eye contact, so I awkwardly remain perched on her shoulder.

  “I am your father!” he yells, his face flushing. He looks like the professor when he’s mad. “You will not disrespect me by calling me Jason!”

  Does he even realize he inadvertently quoted Star Wars?

  “Some father you are,” Gabby mumbles, attempting to sidestep. When he doesn’t budge, she mirrors him by folding her arms. “You’re never here, anyway.”

  “Well, I’m here now! You’re not going to school!”

  “It’s been a week! If I miss another day, they’ll make me go to summer school, and I’m not doing that. Please, just get out of my way! You’re suffocating me!”

  Gabby’s mother steps into the hall, rubbing cream into her hands. “What’s going on?”

  “Gabrielle thinks she’s going to school.”

  “I am going to school!” Gabby corrects. “God, what’s wrong with you two? Most parents have to force their kids to go! But you’re not like most parents, are you, Pam?”

  Pam flinches and looks behind her as if to check if Gabby is referring to somebody else. “Hey! What did I do?”

  “You’re just as bad as him! He’s always locked away in the lab, and you’re always locked in the study writing!”

  Pam doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t need to. Her green eyes glisten with tears. I like Pam. She and her daughter look alike, but her hair is longer and darker. Her tummy protrudes even through her baggy shirts, but otherwise she looks good for her age.

  “You can’t blame us for your mistake,” Jason says after a prolonged silence. “If you choose to go to school, then so be it. Just don’t come whining to us when the press bombards you again.”

  Gabby rolls her eyes and pushes past Jason. He places a firm hand on the shoulder I’m not on and motions towards me. “Do you think that’s wise, taking Ella?”

  “They know about her now.” Gabby shrugs. “There’s no point hiding her.”

  Pam and Jason exchange worried glances, but they fold. Pam throws her hands in the air and slumps back into the study. Jason steps to the side, carefully watching Gabby as she leaves the house. It’s a huge contrast outside. Birds chirp, the sun shines, and the breeze is gentle. The tension back inside was enough to make anyone bitter.

  “You know they’re not trying to make you mad, don’t you?” I say as Gabby marches down the road. “You understand they’re looking out for you, right?”

  “Ella, just shut up for a second, okay? No offence, but I just need quiet time.”

  “Well, I do take offence, Gabby, but I’ll shut up all the same.” I cross my arms, a reoccurring theme in the family today and concentrate on the walk ahead.

  We’ve barely left the front lawn when a trashcan lid drops and rolls towards us. We turn and find a reporter trespassing in our backyard, digging through the bins.

  “Hey!” Gabby yells, taking off towards him. He scurries away, holding something we can’t see. “Gutter press!
Literally!” She bends over and picks up the newspaper on our lawn and goes to throw it at him, but he’s already gone.

  “We have to tell your dad,” I say, sensing Gabby’s turmoil.

  “No,” she pants, staring after the journo. “Then he’ll never let me leave. This never happened.”

  I sigh. How I wish this family wasn’t so secretive.

  I can only imagine Gabby’s heart sinking when we see the paparazzo at the school entrance. No wonder they call them vultures. They’re more like terminators who don’t eat, sleep, or breathe. I mean, neither do I, but at least I don’t stalk people and write lies.

  “Are we going in?” I whisper.

  Gabby attempts to slow her heart rate by breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. “I have to face them sometime. If I do it now, then it’ll be over. Right?”

  I stroke her ear. “Exactly. Let’s just do it, Gabby.” It is all my fault. More or less. And yes, I do feel horribly guilty.

  Putting on a brave face, she puffs out her chest and walks through the gates. Instantly, we’re bombarded with more journalists excited to see me. I can’t help but smile. I’ve never had so much attention in my life.

  “Hello everyone!” I wave and blow kisses. “Lovely to meet you all!”

  “Gabriella! Tell us about yourself!” a man with an orange bowtie says.

  “Oh, my name is Ella, actually.” I offer my hand for a shake. Tentatively, he gives me his finger.

  “Ella,” he says. “What are you?”

  “A robot.” It’s safe to stick with my original story.

  “And who made you?”

  I shrug when Gabby shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

  “Happy now?” Gabby growls, pushing through the crowd. “You’ve got everything you needed! Now, leave us alone!”

  “We want an exclusive with the Devil Doll!”

  “Yeah, yeah! A one-on-one!”

  I clap my hands. “I’d love that!”

  Gabby grabs me and shoves me into her backpack. “No, she wouldn’t!”

  I can’t see what happens next, but their voices fade into the distance and the slamming of lockers takes their place. The next thing I hear is a creaky door, running taps, and flushing. Gabby pulls me from the bag and props me on the bathroom sink once the other girls leave.