What a Doll!

by P. J. Night

  “Okay, we’re done then,” Lizzy said.

  “I guess we are,” Emmy said, and couldn’t help but notice the double meaning contained in the sentence.

  For the rest of class, Emmy couldn’t stop thinking about that strawberry shortcake. Specifically, she thought about how the cake was made. You mixed together all these ingredients, and then when you baked it, it became something totally different—a cake. It was still all those ingredients, like sugar and flour and egg, but it had changed form.

  That’s what had happened to Emmy’s sadness after lunch. It had somehow turned into something different—anger. Anger she felt through her whole body. She felt a little dizzy because of it, actually. And all she could think was, I swear, Lizzy, I will find a way to let you know how angry I really am.

  CHAPTER 4

  As she walked home from school, Emmy threw a little pity party for herself in her head. What a rotten day it had been. That scene at lunch with the strawberry shortcake, having to be editing buddies with Lizzy, feeling self-conscious all day about her short hair, nobody really caring enough to say anything about her haircut. But then she heard her dad’s voice in her head.

  “You should do something nice for yourself,” her dad would sometimes say to her mom if she’d had a bad day. Her mom would do little things, like go to the gym and sit in the sauna afterward, or go for a manicure, or buy herself something she really wanted. It didn’t have to be something big; even her favorite candy bar would do the trick.

  Buying herself something nice suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea, and Emmy did have some money in her wallet. And her favorite little store, Zim Zam, was right on the corner of her block.

  Zim Zam was like a toy store for older kids. They sold things like purses shaped like owls, mood rings, cool cards, journals, mugs, giant pencils, and other fun, quirky stuff. Whenever Emmy needed to buy anyone a present, she went to Zim Zam. The owner, Christine, was friendly with her mom and Lizzy’s mom, and knew Emmy and Lizzy by name. They had all been going there forever.

  The other excellent thing about Zim Zam was that there was a resident cat named Zoom. He was a sleek, handsome black cat who greeted the customers in such a friendly way that Emmy referred to him as a “puppycat.” He was more like a dog than a cat.

  When Emmy opened the door, the familiar bells chimed, announcing her arrival. That always made her feel special, like royalty being announced, though she knew it was just to let Christine know a new customer had entered. Still, here in this familiar place, she felt her dark mood begin to lift a little bit. And there was Zoom, rubbing against her leg and purring loudly.

  “Hi, Emmy,” Christine called. She was unpacking a box of erasers shaped and colored just like real stones. “Great haircut!”

  Emmy put her hand to her head. “Thanks,” she smiled. It may have been her first real smile of the day. She started looking at the new animal puppets in one corner of the store, which were arranged in a rotating tower. Emmy knew she was getting too old to add to her enormous stuffed animal collection, but she couldn’t help admiring these puppets. There was a sea turtle she especially liked. She put her hand inside the puppet and saw that you could control the turtle’s head with your hand, sticking it out and pulling it back into its shell. Wouldn’t it be great to be a turtle and hide my head inside my shell whenever I wanted to? she thought. Like when I get a bad haircut, for instance. Or every day at lunch when I have to watch my old best friend sit with her new best friends.

  “Aren’t those puppets great?” Christine called across the store, noticing Emmy’s interest.

  “They really are,” Emmy replied. “I wish I had enough money for one.” She dug her wallet out of her bag and checked out her cash situation. She had exactly four singles, a quarter, a nickel, and two pennies. Definitely not enough for the $19.99 puppet.

  “Start saving in your piggy bank,” Christine suggested. “You’ll have enough soon, I bet.”

  “Maybe,” Emmy answered. “Good idea.” She spun the puppet tower around a little to see what other puppets there were, and as she did, she noticed something she had never seen before. Behind the tower was a closed door. At the same time that she saw the door, she smelled something strange. Some sort of strong, flowery smell.

  Emmy had thought the toy store was just the one square room and that Christine did all her desk work at the front counter. How had she never noticed a door back here? Feeling nosy, she tried the knob and pushed the door. It swung open with a loud creak. Christine didn’t look up. Then suddenly there was a face right in front of her—like three inches from her face.

  “Oh!” Emmy gasped. It was as if someone had said “boo!” But no one had. Instead, there was an older woman standing just on the other side of the door. She was heavyset and had long white hair. She wore a loose-fitting blouse and a long, flowing skirt.

  “What’s the matter?” the woman asked kindly.

  “S-Sorry,” Emmy stammered. “I didn’t know anyone would be in here. I was just looking at the puppets.” She removed the sea turtle puppet from her hand and put it back on its post.

  “Puppets are nice,” the woman said. “But there are more things to see back here. Didn’t you know?”

  “No,” Emmy said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know there was anything back here.” She peeked in a bit. The room was dimly lit and had a sort of red glow. It was so unlike the rest of the store that Emmy thought she must be dreaming.

  “What’s your name?” the woman asked.

  “Emmy,” she said, suddenly shy. The woman looked like the kind of fortune-teller Emmy had seen in the movies and on television. She wore giant dangly gold earrings, bangle bracelets around her wrist, and had a large mole on her cheek.

  “Come in, Emmy,” the woman said warmly, and Emmy slid behind the puppet tower and into the room. She felt she had left the bright, silly world of Zim Zam far behind, and as she stood in the scented room, her mood took a nosedive as she remembered her horrible day.

  “What’s wrong, Emmy?” asked the woman, sounding like Emmy’s grandmother.

  “Oh, I just had a bad day,” Emmy said softly as she looked around. The room was small, but its shelves and counter were packed with all kinds of weird stuff.

  There were lots of little dolls, and lots of candles in different shapes, sizes, and colors. There was a glass countertop that held bracelets, necklaces, and earrings. There were also jars of beads for making jewelry.

  Emmy noticed little containers of oil and perfume, wooden sculptures of people and animals, and a tall stack of old books. Plus, there were glass goblets, crystals, drums, wooden instruments, dried gourds, shells, snakeskins, skull figurines, and blocks of wax. So many strange things!

  “What happened?” the woman asked. She seemed so kind that Emmy decided to just tell the truth.

  “I’m losing my best friend,” Emmy whispered.

  “Ah,” the woman said. “And every girl needs a best friend, doesn’t she?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “This best friend of yours,” the woman said. “What makes you say that you’re losing her?”

  “I don’t know.” Emmy shrugged, feeling very odd discussing this with a total stranger.

  “Well, something must have happened,” the woman pressed.

  “Oh, things happened all right,” Emmy said, suddenly shy no longer. “Like, she’s totally treated me like I’m an annoyance all year.”

  The woman nodded, encouraging Emmy to continue. So Emmy did.

  “And then this weekend she chopped all my hair off!” She gestured to her head.

  “Wow,” the woman said, still nodding. “You must really hate her.”

  Emmy felt strangely happy, hearin
g those words said aloud. She certainly hadn’t said them before, or even dared think them. Hate is a strong word, her parents always said. She knew it would upset her mother if she told her that she hated Lizzy. But standing there in this weird back room with this old woman, that’s exactly what she felt. She hated Lizzy.

  “Yeah, I really do,” Emmy said. It felt so good to admit it. Then she tried saying it out loud. “I hate her.”

  The woman seemed proud of Emmy for admitting the truth. “I think I have just what you need,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, standing back, and looking Emmy up and down. Then she pointed to the shelf with the small dolls on it.

  Emmy stared at the shelf. She hadn’t gotten a doll in a few years, since she’d outgrown them. But these didn’t look like regular dolls. They were smaller and made completely of cloth, with embroidered faces and button eyes.

  “They’re nice,” Emmy said.

  “They’re more than just nice,” the woman said. “They’ll keep you company the way a best friend does. I’m sure one would keep you better company than this former best friend of yours.”

  Emmy highly doubted that, but she did like them. “How much are they?” she asked the woman.

  “Let’s see . . .” The woman took out an old, dusty calculator from under the counter. She punched in a few numbers and then said, “With tax . . . four dollars and thirty-two cents.”

  Emmy gasped and held her hand to her mouth.

  “What is it, Emmy?” The woman spoke to her like they were old friends.

  “That’s exactly how much I have—I just counted!” Emmy said.

  “Then it was meant to be.” The woman smiled. “Choose one, Emmy. Choose a little doll.” She led Emmy behind the counter, where Emmy noticed a candle burning. Emmy looked at all the dolls. They were brightly colored and handmade. They were all the same shape and size, but had different colors and embroidered patterns. Without even realizing it, Emmy picked one that looked a lot like Lizzy, with yellow yarn coming out of its head that had a similar shade as Lizzy’s blond hair. She took it off the shelf and looked at it closely.

  “Is that the doll that is meant for you, Emmy?” the woman asked in a very serious voice.

  “I think so.” Emmy nodded. And as she did, she was absolutely sure of it.

  “Then you must give it a name,” the woman said. “And it must be the first name that comes into your mind.”

  Well, that was easy.

  “And you must say it out loud,” the woman added.

  “Lizzy,” Emmy whispered. She stared at the doll and said it again, a bit louder this time. “Lizzy.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Emmy handed the woman her four dollars and thirty-two cents, stuffed the doll in her backpack, and then stood awkwardly. She knew she should just say thank you and turn to go, but she suddenly felt attached to this woman and this place. It was like a warm cozy little cave, one she wanted to curl up in.

  “Well, thanks,” Emmy said to the woman, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “You’re welcome, Emmy,” the woman said. “Come back again, will you?”

  “Sure,” said Emmy. It was nice to be invited back, even if the woman just wanted to sell Emmy stuff. “And by the way, I really like the way it smells in here,” she added. “What is it?”

  The woman smiled knowingly. “It’s lavender,” she said, pointing to the burning candle.

  “Cool.” Emmy nodded. “Do you have some for sale? Maybe I’ll come back another day and buy some.”

  “Certainly,” the woman said. “It’s a dollar a candle. And I have many different scents. Sandalwood, sage, cedar, juniper . . .”

  “No, I love this one. Lavender,” Emmy said.

  “Lavender is calming,” the woman said. “An excellent tonic for the nerves. And I see you could use such a thing.”

  Emmy was embarrassed. A tonic for the nerves. Was it that obvious what a mess she was? Apparently, yes.

  The woman reached under the counter and pulled out a candle. “For you, Emmy,” she said. “No charge. But you must light this yourself in order for its calming properties to take effect.”

  “Wow, thank you,” Emmy said as she reached out and took the candle. What a sweet thing for the woman to do. If, on a scale of one to ten, today had been a two, the woman had just turned it into a three. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re very welcome,” the woman said.

  Emmy liked being in the little room but realized she couldn’t stay there forever. It was time to say good-bye to the woman and go home. “Well, thanks,” she said again.

  “You’re very welcome,” the woman repeated.

  Emmy turned to go, and as she approached the door, the woman said loudly and sharply, “Emmy!”

  Emmy spun around, startled. Something had really changed in the woman’s voice.

  “Close the door behind you,” the woman said evenly.

  “No problem,” Emmy said, still a little shaken. She closed the door behind her and was suddenly back in Zim Zam, with all its playful, plastic stuff. The total opposite of what was in the other room.

  Emmy crossed the store, thinking that she’d ask Christine about the little room, and how long it had been there, and why she had never seen this little store within the store before. But Christine was busy with a customer and Emmy headed out, the door jangling behind her. Zoom, seeming freaked out, stared at her as she left.

  Even though she’d spent plenty of time at Zim Zam and in the newly discovered back room, Emmy still had a couple of hours to finish her homework before dinner. She sat at her desk and unpacked her backpack, taking out her books and notebooks, the doll, and the candle. She spread them all on her desk.

  Maybe I’ll do something nice for myself, she thought, and light the candle. A tonic to calm my nerves after my horrible day. She loved the sound of that: A tonic to calm my nerves. It sounded like magic. But she didn’t have a little holder or plate for it, and she didn’t want to get wax all over her desk. She went into Sam’s room without knocking. He didn’t seem to care.

  “Do you have a little plate or container?” she asked her brother. “I need something to put this on.” She showed him the candle.

  “What?” Sam asked. He was deeply involved in putting the finishing touches on a model dinosaur in a corner of his room.

  “A little plate or container,” Emmy said.

  “Um, sure. There’s a little ceramic tile I made, over there.” He pointed to his nightstand.

  “That’ll do,” Emmy said. “Thanks.” She grabbed the hand-painted tile and went back into her room. But Sam followed her. Emmy spun around as Sam entered.

  “What do you want?” she asked him, a bit impatiently. She wanted to get started with the candle.

  “I was just wondering if I could light the candle,” he said. “Mom and Dad let me light candles on your birthday cake now because I know how to be safe with matches.”

  “Sorry,” Emmy said. “I have to light it myself. That’s the whole idea. It’s a magic candle. But you could go downstairs and get the matches for me, though. Would you?” Sam seemed happy to be given this task and left the room. When he came back up, he handed her the matches.

  “Thanks,” Emmy said to her brother. “You can stay here while I light it if you want.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, pleased.

  Emmy struck a match carefully and held it to the wick. Right away, the candle began filling the room with the now-familiar lavender scent. She and Sam stared at it for a minute, mesmerized by its steady glow, until Emmy broke the silence and told Sam that she had to start her homework.

  Emmy breathed deeply as she started her Spanish homework. The class was studying food words, and the assignment was to make up a menu for her own restaurant. As she thought about
the foods she’d serve at her restaurant, Casa de Emmy, she absentmindedly twirled the doll on the desk. It felt very satisfying to spin it around and around.

  Hamburguesas, she wrote on her menu. Papas fritas. Yum, hamburgers and fries. She was hungry for dinner already. Just then, her mom knocked on her half-open door.

  “Hi, honey. What’s that smell?” her mom asked. “I could smell it from downstairs.”

  “Guess.” Emmy smiled, looking at the candle.

  “First, it’s nice to see you smile,” her mom said. “I haven’t seen that in a few days. Second, hmm, I don’t know exactly what the scent is. Something floral.”

  “You’re on the right track,” Emmy said. Her mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Lavender?” she guessed.

  “Bingo!” Emmy said and gestured to the candle. “It’s supposed to be a tonic for my nerves.”

  “It’s pretty,” her mom said. “But from now on, I’m going to have to insist that you only burn candles downstairs, when your father or I are around. I’m not comfortable with you burning candles up here alone.”

  Emmy nodded and blew out the candle. She understood her mother’s point.

  Her mother continued. “Where’d you get it?” she asked.

  “Zim Zam,” Emmy said.

  “They sell candles there?” her mom asked. “I didn’t realize that. I thought it was more like just toys.”

  “They opened this new section of the store,” Emmy said.

  “What do you mean?” her mom asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “There’s, like, this little back room where there’s other stuff,” Emmy explained vaguely.

  “Hmm,” her mom said. “I never noticed that. What else did you get? This little doll?” Her mom pointed.

  “Yeah,” Emmy said. “It cost four dollars and thirty two cents, and that’s exactly how much I had. So it was meant to be.”

  “Then how did you buy the candle?” her mom asked.

  “Oh, the lady there was really nice, and she gave it to me.”