A Rag Doll's Guide to Here and There
Page 42
I knew she would leave.
We’d been so busy saving Here and There, and time kept moving. The last seconds of it were draining out of my mittens.
She scooped me up with the same ferocity I felt, hugging me tightly. I tried to memorize this sensation. The woody smell of her hair, the knobbly, uneven, but exquisite softness of her sweater, the way her skin gave just a little under my hands, but underneath she had a body as hard as any marionette or guard. The warmth. Humans were so warm. And her voice, high and rich with emotion. My own voice came out in a whisper. “You’re the only reward I want, Miss Sandy. We were barely getting to know each other.”
I felt her tears fall on my back, which was fair, because she surely felt mine on her neck. Hoarsely, she answered, “I know, but I have to go. It’s not just that my power is dangerous. I could learn to control that. I want to see my parents. I want to try to fix my life. That won’t be easy, but you taught me to think through problems, figure out what powers I have even when all looks lost, and that there’s no shame in getting help.”
There was nothing I could say. I just lifted my head and stared up at her, taking in her hair with its many, constantly changing shades of yellow, and her broad nose, and her long face with so many tiny, expressive movements.
She smiled, both sad and encouraging. “It will be fine, Heartfelt. When I leave, my power over you will break.” She quickly placed a hand over my mouth to prevent my obvious objection, and went on. “Not that I think you don’t really care about me, but I won’t be the center of your world. Especially since you’ll have a new life.”
“I don’t want anything to do with Pincushion,” I said immediately. As much as I’d loved the Endless Picnic, I wasn’t taking even a supposedly reformed version of that back into my life.
Sandy chuckled. Pulling me away from her chest, she sat me down on the seat of the throne, and stepped back and to the side. Everyone looked automatically up at her, and she announced, “I hereby declare the clothling Heartfelt Queen of Here and There, Anywhere and Everywhere. Do not obey her as you would me. Obey her because she is wise and kind and responsible.”
My eyes went perfectly round. Sitting on the throne did feel… odd. Tall. I suddenly appreciated the size of a human, how small everyone else was, how fragile and in need of gentle care.
Power was an interesting sensation, but not what I wanted. I looked up, pleading. “Sandy—”
She cut off my words by bending down and giving me a particularly tight hug and kiss on my cap. When she let go, I continued, “Please don’t—”
But that was as far as I got, because she turned and walked into the mirror.
The mirror faded into a reflection of the throne room. Sandy was gone.
Everyone in the room chanted, “All hail Heartfelt, Queen of Here and There!”
I ignored them. Sliding off the throne, I walked up to the mirror.
Sandy’s power had gone Elsewhere. There was nothing controlling me but me.
“I choose to follow you.”
The mirror rippled, showing the brick room again, and I stepped through it into a new adventure.
Elsewhere
Our heroine jerked her head up. It was sore from where she’d been slumped against the rough, uneven wall of this humid steam cellar.
Across the room, her friend Sandy Golding stood up, stretching first one arm and then the other. The girl looked down at herself, and at our heroine, both with a grimace. “A dream? Really? Ugh. That’s so disappointing.”
As our heroine watched her, Sandy stepped up to the wall and tucked one arm over her chest, cupping her chin. “Dream or not, I think it changed my life. Do you see these pipes? If we bang SOS in Morse code, that will echo through the whole school. If even a single person is here, they’ll track it down and let us out. If there isn’t, we just wait a few hours and try again. Worst thing that happens is we’re bored and really hungry by the time we get out.”
Our heroine nodded, gripping her knees tightly. That felt odd, but why? Lifting her hands, she flexed her fingers one by one. They were the same fingers she’d always had, weren’t they? Why did they also feel wrong, like they shouldn’t move like this?
She patted her own face. So smooth, which was ridiculous to think. What had she expected, cloth?
She’d certainly expected to feel glasses.
Our heroine stared down at her hands again, and swallowed hard.