What a Doll!

by P. J. Night

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Read It and Weep Excerpt

  About P.J. Night

  PROLOGUE

  Crrrrrreak! The heavy wooden door groaned loudly as the old woman opened it.

  It was time to get started.

  She lit a few candles and carefully went to work. Her long, straggly white hair swayed across her back as she slowly wiped the dust from each shelf.

  The room was dark and small with no windows. The woman removed her wares from their boxes and dusted each item carefully before putting it on a shelf.

  First, a shelf of candles in every color, shape, and size. The glass countertop was where the jewelry went—bracelets, necklaces, and earrings that jingle-jangled when you moved around. There were containers of beads for making your own jewelry, beads in every hue. Then, last but not least, a shelf of small cloth dolls. Their embroidered eyes stared lifelessly out into the shop. There were also small vials of oil and perfume, large and small wooden sculptures of people and animals, and a tall stack of old books. There were glass goblets, crystals, drums, wooden instruments, dried gourds, shells, snakeskins, skull figurines, and blocks of wax.

  A black cat slowly wandered in, carefully sniffing at the air, which was full of smells new to him. He seemed startled when he saw the old woman, and arched his back and hissed loudly. The woman, seeming aggravated, stomped one foot, shooing him out of the room.

  Once the cat had scampered out, the woman sighed loudly, then put her lamp on the counter and plugged it in. It had a red velvet shade with fringe around the edges.

  She turned the lamp on and the room glowed red. She was ready now. Ready for the first poor soul who wandered in.

  CHAPTER 1

  One Friday night Lizzy Draper and Emmy Spencer were watching TV and eating popcorn at Lizzy’s house. This was because Lizzy didn’t seem to want to do anything else.

  “Pass the popcorn, Lizzy?” Emmy asked her best friend.

  Lizzy passed the bowl over with a slightly annoyed look. “It’s Liz, remember?” she asked Emmy. “Now that I’m not five anymore?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, Liz,” Emmy mumbled. Emmy had a bad feeling in her stomach, the same feeling she’d been having for a few months now. Things were different between the lifelong best friends. There was no denying it. It was simple: Now that they were in seventh grade, Lizzy had become popular, and Emmy had not. Lizzy was talking to boys, and Emmy was not. Lizzy was wearing lip gloss, and Emmy was not. Lizzy—

  “Hey, you know something?” Lizzy interrupted Emmy’s thoughts. “You could maybe start going by a more mature name yourself.”

  “What do you mean? Change my name?” Emmy said.

  “No, silly,” Lizzy said. “Just go by something like Em. Or Emma.”

  “Em might be okay,” Emmy responded. “But my full name’s not Emma. It’s Emily.”

  “Right, but Emma is much cooler,” Lizzy said, looking totally serious.

  “I kind of like Em,” said Emmy. “But it would take some getting used to. Hey, I know. Instead of Liz, I could call you Lizard.” Emmy laughed at her own joke.

  “Like when I was three?” Lizzy asked sarcastically.

  Emmy thought it might be a good idea to change the subject. “So what are we going to be for the costume party this year?”

  Lizzy paused and examined the pattern on the rug. “Oh,” she said. “I was going to tell you. I’m going to do a group costume with Cadence and Sophie.”

  Ouch. Emmy tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. “But we had so much fun last year,” she said.

  The costume party was part of their school’s spirit week, which was only a few weeks away. When Lizzy and Emmy were in sixth grade, they heard rumors about how competitive some of the kids got with their costumes, and they were a little scared to participate. But then Emmy had the most brilliant idea: Lizzy could dress up as a bug and Emmy could go as a can of bug spray. Lizzy had loved it and so had everyone else. They even won an honorable mention for such a creative costume—an honor very few sixth graders ever received.

  Emmy had been thinking of ideas for this year’s costume for months now, but apparently it was all for nothing. At this moment, Emmy was feeling a lot like she was an actual bug and Lizzy was the spray.

  “I know,” Lizzy said. “Sorry.”

  Lizzy’s mom, Marilyn, poked her head into the family room. “You girls should turn off the TV soon,” she said.

  “There’s nothing else to do, Mom,” Lizzy said with a hint of a whine. Emmy couldn’t help but notice that Lizzy had stopped calling her mother “Mommy,” which Emmy still called her mother. What was with all these name changes?

  “I can’t believe my ears,” her mom said. “You two have always found fun things to do together at your sleepovers.” It was true. They’d make crazy concoctions in the kitchen, pretend to open up a beauty parlor, write short plays and perform them for their parents, carve bars of soap into funny shapes, and do plenty of other creative stuff.

  Lizzy sighed loudly and said nothing more, finally turning off the television when it was time for dinner. The two girls sat silently at the table they had sat at together so many times before, since they were babies in high chairs. Their moms had met when they were pregnant with Lizzy and Emmy, and because they were next-door neighbors on a street deep in the heart of Brooklyn, New York, they spent countless hours with their baby girls in their kitchens, out running errands, at the playground, and even on family vacations together. Lizzy and Emmy had always been inseparable, just like their moms. Until lately.

  Twirling spaghetti on her fork, Emmy was lost in thought. How could she feel so lonely with her best friend beside her? Maybe it was because they weren’t really best friends anymore. That thought made her so sad she dropped her fork on her plate. It was all she could do to keep herself from putting her head down on the table.

  “What’s the matter, Emmy?” Marilyn asked.

  “Nothing,” Emmy said. There was a time when she could tell Marilyn anything, and this wasn’t that time. Marilyn and Joanne, Emmy’s mom, had always depended on each other to take care of the other’s daughter in a pinch. If Joanne couldn’t get away from work and Emmy was sick at school, Marilyn would pick her up at the school nurse. If Marilyn had to go to a meeting out of town, Joanne would watch Lizzy until she got back. It was like each girl had two moms. Of course, it was even better than that because it was also like each girl had a sister—Lizzy was an only child, and Emmy had a little brother.

  Living next door to each other had always been so much fun. The best part of all was that they could see right into each other’s bedrooms. They had all sorts of fun with this, shining laser lights or flashlights on each other’s walls in the dark and throwing things back and forth through their open windows. They did have one rule they agreed upon long ago, though: no spying.

  As the girls cleared the dishes, Emmy noticed Lizzy looking at her closely. She seemed to be focused on Emmy’s long dark hair, which she wore in two braids. On the way up the stairs to Lizzy’s room, Lizzy swished one of Emmy’s braids like a horse’s tail.

  “I have a great idea,” Lizzy said as they
entered her room. “Let’s give you a makeover.”

  Emmy was pleased that Lizzy wanted to do something, anything, with her. And they had played with makeup before. They used to love playing dress-up and putting on fashion shows for their parents. It would be fun. This sleepover isn’t going to be totally awful after all, Emmy thought.

  “Awesome,” Emmy said, smiling. “Where’s your mom’s makeup case?” It was what they’d always used when they played dress-up.

  “No makeup,” Lizzy announced, swishing Emmy’s other braid. “Hair.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Emmy said, and removed the rubber band from each braid. She ran her fingers through her braids to undo them, splaying out her long pretty hair over her shoulders. Her hair was so long it almost reached her butt.

  Lizzy looked at Emmy’s hair thoughtfully. “I have a vision,” she said, grinning, and left the room. “I’ll be right back.”

  Emmy sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the mirror. She couldn’t wait to see what Lizzy was going to do. Would she weave a sophisticated inside-out French braid, like she did so well? Use a curling iron? She was so relieved that Lizzy seemed more like her old self that she didn’t notice what Lizzy was holding in her hand when she came back into the room.

  Scissors.

  Lizzy help them up like a magician’s wand. “You’re going to look great, Em,” she promised.

  Emmy’s heart stopped. “Um, L-Liz . . . ,” she stammered. “I don’t want an actual haircut. I thought you were just going to braid it or something.”

  “But haven’t you noticed how badly you need one?” Lizzy asked. “We’re in seventh grade now, but your hair is stuck in fourth.”

  Emmy instinctively put her hands to her hair to protect it. What would her mother say if she came home with her hair cut off? She loved her daughter’s long hair. So did Emmy, actually. She loved feeling it cover her back, she loved brushing it, she loved braiding it herself. She’d never wanted shorter hair. For her entire life Emmy had never allowed it to be cut more than an inch to get rid of split ends. It had always been long. And so had Lizzy’s light blond hair until this year, when she’d gone for a short cut that she described as “sassier than long hair.”

  Emmy was still stammering. “P-Plenty of grown-ups have long hair,” she pointed out.

  Lizzy frowned. “Oh, never mind,” she said. “You’re hopeless.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emmy said, making sure her voice didn’t crack. She was on the verge of tears. Things had been so much better in the last few minutes, and now Lizzy was disappointed. She was giving up on Emmy.

  “Whatever,” Lizzy said like she really didn’t care. “I was just trying to help you. Forget it. Let’s just go watch TV again.”

  Emmy’s heart sank deeper into her stomach. Her mind raced. Was there some way to salvage this sleepover? Yes, there was.

  “How about if you just trim it?” Emmy asked. “I don’t mind having it cut a little bit. It might be . . . cool,” she added.

  Lizzy smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “It will be cool. I promise. First let me wash it in the sink, like at a real hair salon.”

  They went into the bathroom, where Lizzy gently sudsed up Emmy’s hair and carefully rinsed it. Then she even added conditioner. Emmy loved the feeling of Lizzy’s hands massaging her scalp. Lizzy was right. It was just like being at the salon. All the while, Lizzy was humming happily. It was just like old times. She helped Emmy stand up, wrapped one towel around her head and one around her shoulders, and led her back into her bedroom, where she combed out her hair and turned Emmy away from the mirror. Emmy felt like she was at a fancy spa.

  “Here, sit on this towel,” Lizzy said, “so we don’t get hair all over the floor.” Emmy moved onto the towel.

  Just as Lizzy started cutting, her cell phone rang. She put down the scissors and grabbed the phone.

  “Hey, Cadence!” she said happily. “What’s up? No, I’m not doing anything.”

  Yes you are, Emmy thought sadly.

  But Lizzy continued the conversation for a few more minutes before hanging up. Then she continued cutting. Emmy was faced away from the mirror, but it felt to her like Lizzy was cutting off quite a lot.

  “I think you’re cutting too much,” she said to Lizzy. “Let me just see in the mirror.”

  Lizzy put the scissors down and put her hands on her hips. “Do you trust me or not?” she said.

  “I trust you,” Emmy lied.

  Lizzy continued snipping away, stopping twice to check text messages, which she smiled at but did not say anything about.

  More snipping. A lot more snipping, actually.

  “Okay, you can look now,” Lizzy said proudly. And for the next few moments, everything went in slow motion for Emmy.

  She turned around slowly and looked in the mirror. It was a bit dark in Lizzy’s room, but what Emmy saw was plenty. And her reflection made her scream.

  CHAPTER 2

  “What, you don’t like it?” Lizzy asked blankly, standing next to her in the mirror and looking on. “I think it looks cool.”

  Emmy held her hands to her mouth in horror. She was silent but still screaming inside. She barely recognized herself in her reflection.

  Her hair was short. Short short. It barely touched her shoulders. And there were bangs, which she’d never wanted, and had never had.

  She could barely speak. “I thought you were just going to trim it,” she croaked.

  “Well, you did need a little more than a trim, Em,” Lizzy said calmly.

  Emmy could only repeat herself. “I thought you were just going to trim it. I thought you were just going to trim it,” she kept saying, never taking her eyes off her reflection.

  “Here, get up,” was all Lizzy said. “Let me clean up all these clumps of old hair.” She brought the towel, now piled with Emmy’s hair, into the bathroom, where she shook it into the garbage as if it was something as ordinary and unimportant as kitchen scraps.

  Between then and the time they went to bed, time passed in a strange way. Emmy felt totally vulnerable without all her hair. And every time she passed the mirror, she had a horrible feeling inside, like her stomach was melting.

  They went downstairs for a snack and to say good night to Lizzy’s parents.

  “Oh my!” was Marilyn’s response. She couldn’t keep the shock off her face.

  “It looks great, right?” Lizzy said casually, calmly slicing a banana into the blender for a smoothie. “I did it,” she added proudly.

  “Well, yes, it’s very nice,” Marilyn said. “What do you think, Emmy?”

  Emmy said nothing as she felt her eyes well up with tears. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, she told herself. Marilyn must have noticed, though, because she put her hand on Emmy’s shoulder and squeezed it. Then she tried to catch Lizzy’s eye, but Lizzy was busy with the smoothie.

  “You want a purple cow, right?” Lizzy asked Emmy. It was their name for their favorite smoothie, which was made with bananas, frozen blueberries, and soy milk. It was named after the poem they had chanted in first grade:

  I never saw a purple cow

  I never hope to see one.

  But I can tell you anyhow

  I’d rather see than be one.

  They’d loved that poem, and when they first made up the smoothie and admired its purple color, they knew right away what it had to be called. But Lizzy saying “purple cow” now just made Emmy sad. First grade had been so much fun. They had been in the same class and won a jump rope championship. It was all so simple. Both of them had matching long hair then. And they were, as they used to say, “bestest friends.”

  Emmy tried to smile. “Sure,” she said as Lizzy got out two glasses and bendy straws. Lizzy turned on th
e blender and, for a minute, the noise distracted Emmy from her sad thoughts. Lizzy poured some purple cow into each cup and handed Emmy one. They stood at the kitchen counter with Marilyn looking carefully at them both, trying to figure out what to say.

  Emmy didn’t sleep much that night. She was painfully aware that her hair wasn’t spread out across her pillow as usual. Her head felt so funny without the weight of her hair on it. She replayed the haircut scene over and over again in her head. How could Lizzy have cut off so much hair? What had she been thinking? Was she secretly mad at Emmy and trying to do something mean? Emmy tried to think of reasons why Lizzy would be mad at her, but couldn’t think of any.

  She finally fell asleep and had a terrible dream about giant scissors chasing her around her empty school.

  When she woke up in the morning, still half asleep, she remembered the dream. It was interesting that the school had been empty in the dream, because that’s sort of how school felt to Emmy these days. Empty of fun, empty of laughter, empty of friends. The other girls she used to be friends with seemed to be less interested in hanging out with her than with Lizzy. And Lizzy was adjusting to her new popularity very naturally.

  Lizzy was already downstairs. Emmy was alone, with an odd feeling that she’d missed half the day. The room was filled with late-morning light. For a few wonderful seconds Emmy did not remember the haircut. It was only when she sat up and didn’t feel her long hair on her shoulders that she remembered. The thought was like a big thud.

  She sat up and crawled over to the mirror, where it all came rushing back. It had really happened. It was as real as real could be. She looked like a different person! She started down the stairs slowly, and as she reached the bottom she saw Lizzy heading out the front door.

  “Hey,” she said, a little confused. Where was Lizzy going? Weren’t they about to have breakfast together?

  Lizzy turned around. “Oh, hey,” she said. “I thought I’d let you sleep, sleepyhead. My mom called your mom and told her you’d come home when you got up.”