Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) (2 page)

“Well, if your hair falls out, don’t go blaming it on me,” Roxie quips. She sits down on the toilet, putting her black wedged shoes on the cabinet across from her. I clip up my hair and sit down on the tub in front of her. Her short, black hair is gelled out in spiky layers around her head, and her skin is a pale shade of white that takes on an almost ghostly appearance under the florescent lights.

“So, do you want to talk about Third?”

She shoots me a dirty look. “Do you want to talk about boy wonder?” That answers my question.

“How about we talk about our plans on getting summer jobs,” I say. She smiles, “safe. I was thinking we can hit up every store, restaurant, and boutique downtown. Someone is bound to give two lovely, charming teenage girls like us a job.” Now it is my turn to roll my eyes. “I can’t believe your moms are making you get a job,” I exclaim. Roxie’s mothers give her everything under the sun from a brand new convertible Bug to a kick ass in-home movie theatre. One would think that having everything handed to her on a silver platter that she would act like a spoiled brat, but she is the complete opposite. Actually, Roxie’s life is a complete contradiction. If I had not seen it for myself, I would never have believed it. Roxie, with her black lipstick and dark clothes, looks like she should be biting the heads off small birds and scaring the daylights out of little children, but she loves anything pink, frilly and girly, she idolizes Taylor Swift, and swoons over Boy Bands.

“Yeah, something about learning responsibility.” She sticks her finger in her mouth and makes a gagging noise and I laugh. “I tried to tell them that they were being unreasonable, that this is my last summer to be a teen, so getting a job and trying to be responsible is the last thing I want to do.”

I get up and look in the mirror at the bleach stripping the color from my hair. I wish it could strip the torment that is constantly swirling inside of me as well.

###

“It looks… lovely… but I would have taken you to a salon to get it done if you had asked me.” Mrs. Knight purses her lips as she fingers a piece of my newly bleached hair. That pang of guilt is back, plucking away at my insides.

“It’s okay. I used to do it myself all the time.” I smile at her as I pour a large glass of Coke with ice.

Mrs. Knight made me her personal doll when I came to live with them. She dressed me up, did my hair, and changed my clothes. She thought that she might be able to change the reputation I have with a new outfit, but she was wrong. I know she was warned about me from other shocked mothers that called up when they found out she was taking in the little, druggie tramp and her poor, damaged brother. This town is too small and the ladies too southern for gossip not to get to her. After a few of those calls, she took me down to the local Create and Cuts as well as for a trip to the Gap. I appreciate what she was trying to do for me, but I cannot walk around anymore feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. Pretending I am someone I am not. It’s too confusing.

After Roxie and I successfully bleached my hair back as well as her bangs, I added a few strips of pink back to my hair with cool aid packs I found in the back of the cupboard. “Really, I don’t mind,” I reassure her with my own tight-lipped smile.

She gives me back another tight-lip smile. “Well, it…it is…it is very nice.”

I don’t want to seem ungrateful because I am grateful for what the Knights are doing for us, but I don’t belong with them. I never will. I am too different and Mrs. Knight knows that deep down, that is why she tried to change me. However, no amount of hair dye can change the rumors about me. I will never fit into their perfect cookie-cutter life.

We sit down at the dinner table—an awkward experience for me—but the Knights insist on having at least one dinner together a week. Not only is the thought mind boggling to me that they like to eat together, it is also weird that I don’t have to think about how the food will appear on the table. My mother was on a strict liquid diet and food in the fridge was not a high priority for her. Dinner usually meant me snagging a few things from the gas station or coming up with something edible from what the church had dropped off to Mrs. Sophie.

“So, kids, you have been out of school for what? A full week? Tell me how you are all planning to spend the rest of your time not lolly-gagging around.” Mr. Knight points his fork at me and then at Dylan.

“Really, Dad, lolly-gagging?” Dylan says, rolling his eyes.

“What’s lala gagging?” Emmy asks.

“Lolly-gagging is what all the cool kids are saying,” Mr. Knight says, rubbing the top of Emmy’s head.

“Yeah, maybe in the fifties.” Dylan smirks at me and I quickly look away. My heart leaps into my throat, I hate that he has that effect on me still.

Dylan and I have an unspoken agreement; he does not speak to me and I pretend he doesn’t exist. It is easier that way. At first, I was so angry at him, I blamed him for everything. I blamed him for my mom getting picked up by the sheriff and I blamed him for my screwed up family being torn apart. It wasn’t his fault, though, and when the pain from my injuries started to subside, so did my anger. Now, I ignore him as a defense mechanism. If I allow myself to feel for Dylan what I am aching on the inside to feel, I don’t know what will happen. How will his parents react? What if they call the state and say it was a mistake taking us in? I will lose Everett for sure and that is something I cannot risk.

“Barb?” Mr. Knight asks.

I swallow the bite of ravioli in my mouth. “Well… Roxie and I were planning on getting summer jobs.” I stare at my food, pushing it back and forth with my fork.

“Excellent. Dylan?”

Dylan’s eyes are trained on his plate as well. “Katie and I—” Unable to control myself, I snort at her name.

Dylan has spent every free moment with Katie and, when he is not out with her, she is always annoyingly here, making her presence known like today. Not that I am jealous. He should be
with her, it is the right thing, but she is so freaking annoying. They both were made for each other.

Once upon a time, I thought that Dylan and I could love each other, despite our differences, but I was wrong. Painfully wrong. No, I am happy they are together. I take another bite of my food and choke it down.

Dylan ignores my irrational interruption and continues. “Katie signed us up for SAT Prep classes and I’m taking on a few extra lawns.” Dylan catches my eye and my breath hitches. This is why I hate him; he still affects me with just a look.

I try my hardest to ignore the sudden flutter deep in my chest, the racing of my heart and the warmth that grows low in the pit of my stomach. I would much rather have the hurt that comes with him, it is much easier to deal with. I am used to pain, it is all too familiar. I remind myself that what we had can no longer be.
It would never have worked out anyway
, I say to myself. This time, maybe I will believe my own lies.

“But you took them already and scored very well,” Mr. Knight says, shocked.

“Yeah, well, as Katie says, there is always room for improvement,” he says with a forced happy tone to his voice. Mr. Knight shakes his head and I try to keep the smirk off my face. Trouble in paradise?

“And Emmy what are your plans, young lady?” Mr. Knight smiles lovingly at Emmy, his youngest child.

“Daddy,”—she rolls her eyes—”you know I have Ballet Intensive, and Everett is coming, too!” She kicks her ballet slipper, covered feet back and forth. The Knights are doing wonderful things for Everett; besides being in several therapy sessions for different reasons, he is learning how to sign with the whole family. He has also started to dance with Emmy at her dance class.

“Is it that time of year again?” he teases her, scratching at his beard that Mrs. Knight has been on him to shave every time she catches him scratching at it.

“Yes, it is, and Mrs. Sarah said that if I practice really hardly, I might get Clara in the Nutcracker.” She smiles her gapped-tooth smile at him.

“It looks like everyone is going to be busy,” he says, pushing back from the table.

“Now someone ask me what I will be doing this summer.” Mr. Knight’s brown eyes light up as he looks around the table. “Come on, someone ask.” He pokes Dylan in the arm.

“What are you doing, Dad?” Dylan gives in and asks. He gives us a sly grin before producing two pieces of paper from behind his back.

“Allen?” Mrs. Knight drops the pot she was holding back onto the stove. “Allen?” she says again, her voice cracking.

“How did these get in my pocket?” He scratches his head. “It looks like they are two round trip tickets for four nights in the Bahamas! Who wants to accompany me? Dylan? Barb? Anyone?” He lays the tickets on the red mahogany table. “No takers? I could always ask Bill in accounting, he is looking a little pale these days.” He smiles mischievously.

Mrs. Knight walks over to him, her eyes trained on the tickets in his hand. She is shaking like a leaf. He reaches out to her, pulling her down into his lap and she buries her head into the nook of his neck. All teasing is now put aside as he gazes lovingly at his wife. “Oh, Allen, are you sure we can afford this?”

He kisses her cheek. “No, but we are doing it anyway.” He smiles.

“Oh, Allen.” She kisses him.

“Okay, your children are still in the room, trying to keep their dinner down,” Dylan groans.

Mrs. Knight giggles and jumps to her feet. “I have so much to do. I will have to call my parents to see if the kids can stay with them. I don’t know if I can get off work, I’ll need to see,” Mrs. Knight says excitedly. “Shopping! I have to go shopping. I don’t have a thing to wear.” She claps her hands together and skips over to the phone like a little kid, “I have to call my mom.” She stops walking and looks over her shoulder at me. “Barbie will you go shopping with me?” she asks, her face is full of eagerness.

I bite down on my bottom lip. She is so excited; how can I tell her no. How do I tell her that it brings up too much pain when she tries to mother me like this, a constant reminder of how my
own mother did not want me. “Sure,” I say to her. She smiles at me and disappears around the corner, the phone once again attached to her ear.

“You should have waited for the last minute before you told her, Dad. Now she is going to spend the next two weeks freaking out and over-analyzing every single little detail. You know that, right?” Dylan scolds his father.

“And miss out on her fretting over it for the next two weeks? Never. That is one of the reasons I love her.” Mr. Knight abandons the table at the sound of Mrs. Knight’s excited squeals in the next room.

Leaving us alone, I go back to staring at my plate and pushing the pasta back and forth with my fork. I try to look at everything and anyone other than Dylan, but I can feel his eyes burning into me. A heat radiates from them that is so intense; I can feel the flames from it licking at my skin. When I cannot take it anymore, I snap my head up. “What!” I try to glare at his warm, brown eyes, but they are turning my insides into a puddle while an intense heat spreads down my legs.
Geesh
, all this from a look. I squeeze my legs together tighter, trying to make it go away, but it only intensifies the feeling.

“Your hair looks pretty,” he says, popping ravioli in his mouth, smiling between eating. His smile is so alluring that I feel my own appearing on my face, I duck my head so he won’t notice.

“Thanks,” I mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He reaches across the table and lifts up a strip of pink hair. “Pink is my new favorite color.” I look up and his eyes catch mine, holding them. That burn and ever present ache for him to touch me is intensified. I lean closer, loving the feeling of his hands in my hair. I want to lean into his hand, exposing me for the liar I am.

“PINK!” Emmy squeals. Both Dylan and I scoot back, forgetting we are not alone. “Pink is for girls, dweeb.” I smile at her and we both laugh.

Dylan turns to Emmy. “Dweeb? Who taught you that word?” He stands up, scoops her up and puts her on his shoulders.

“Chloe. She said that your brother is kind of a dweeb. Dylan, what’s a dweeb?”

He reaches up and tickles her. “You’re a dweeb.” She laughs and swats at him with her small hands. I can’t help but smile at the interaction between them.

I look over at Everett who is tracing shapes onto his placemat with his fingers. We will never have the same relationship that Emmy and Dylan have. I can’t help feeling a little bit of jealousy towards them because of it. I will never have a conversation or a fight with him; never hear the sound of his voice. What will happen to him when I am no longer around? He needs me. I know I will never be able to leave him.

Next year, when I graduate, I will say goodbye to my friends and we will all head down different paths. Roxie has already been accepted to a college in Florida and one in Ohio. Even Third got accepted to a college. His mom is begging him to stay and go to a local college, but he, too, will soon leave. Then there’s Dylan… I shake the thought of him. Standing up and leaving, I cannot let this roller coaster of feelings for Dylan compromise why I am here. I am here for Evie and I can’t be careless with his safety.

###

I stay at Roxie’s for the next few days, but after that, I am missing Everett like crazy, so I suck it up and go back to the house. It is late in afternoon when I come back to an empty house. I let out a sigh of relief. For now, I am not going to have to deal with seeing Dylan. He has been trying to talk to me since I walked in the Knight’s doors a few weeks ago.