Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) (4 page)

Chapter 3.
Barbie

The library is cold and several people are on computers, clicking away. Some of them glance at me as I walk passed, but no one makes eye contact. I walk to the back of the building and collapse into a soft, plush, gray chair. The heat is making me tired and my limbs feel weak from running.

When I started to run, I didn’t stop running until I went through the automatic doors of the Russell County Public Library. The smell of old parchment now brings me an odd sort of comfort. A smell I learned to love being with Dylan. I take a deep breath, curling my legs up under me. I want to disappear into myself, leaving behind the ever present pain that I cannot seem to outrun. The pain that I caused.

I clear my mind and train my eyes on a tall boy who is browsing the shelves. He picks up a book, flips it open, reads a random page and then sets it back down neatly on the shelf. Each time he reaches up, I glance at a thin trail of dark hair that disappears under a pair of tight, dark jeans that hang low on his hips. He has long, straight hair that he has dyed black with light roots that peek through. His eyes are a deep green-blue that hide behind thick, dark lashes.

He looks up and catches me with those two, lovely, deep, swimming pools and my heart rate picks up. He bites at his bottom lip for a moment and I catch a glimpse of a metal hoop nestled in the corner of his mouth. I look away too quickly, which catches his attention. He straightens up and walks over to me with an easy glide. A crooked smirk plays on his enticing, full lips. Lips that can numb me. I quickly shake the thought aside and fidget in my chair nervously. Nervous? Why the hell am I nervous? Is it because of what I might do? Or is it more? Is it that I am afraid of what Dylan would think? No. Just friends, remember? I don’t care what Dylan thinks.

“Are you reading that?” He points to a pile of books that sit on a blue plastic table next to me. I shake my head no. “Good.” He reaches a tattooed arm across me. He smells spicy with the hint of something sweet yet masculine at the same time.

He slowly straightens up to full height. Wow, he is tall. He taps the book in his hand. “Kai.” He holds out his hand.

“Barbie.” I cringe on the inside at my name.

“I like it.” He smiles.

“Really? I hate it; the whole stigma that goes with a name like Barbie.” I shudder.

He lets out a laugh. It’s a smooth, intoxicating sound that relaxes my nerves. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who gives a shit about stigmas.”

I give him a knowing smile because he pinned me. Usually, when I am backed into a corner, I tend to want to run, but not with Kai. I can tell right away there is something different about him. “How come I haven’t seen you around… Kai? You are surely not from around here.” I bat my eyes at him, squaring my shoulders. I turn my nervousness into what I do best. Flirt.

Unfazed, he slips easily into the chair next to me, his long legs sticking out in front of him. “What makes you say that? I could be in all your classes and you just never noticed me before today,” he flirts back, looking me right in the eyes.

“Well, for one thing, I would have noticed you. I know all the boys that attend CHS. Another, this is a small town, people talk,” I lie to him. I have never heard a word about this boy.

“Yeah, and what are these people saying?” He leans his long body towards me. Oh my.

“Oh, you know; trouble maker, rock star wannabe.” I look at my fingernails like this is a boring conversation.

“Oh, really.” A tight smirk plays on his lips and it takes all I have not to smile back at him.

“Yep.” I lean towards him. I want to continue this conversation with Kai. It’s light and fun, and there is no pressure from him, no mixed feelings.

“Well, they are right.” He pushes a piece of stray hair off my face, securing it behind my ear. He is bold, like me. I like it. “I just moved here from New York. I am in a band, the Death Dog’s. We sing mostly rock, maybe you’ve heard of us?” I shake my head no. “No? Well we are new, but already have a pretty big following. Oh, and I do love to get into trouble in my free time. What about you?” He’s cocky; that is something I can respect about him.

I let the words linger around us for a moment, speaking right before that uncomfortable silence settles in. “I love trouble.” He leans back in his chair.

“Then you are my type of girl. Plus, you are the first girl I found that actually dresses normal in this backwards hick town. Most of the girls I have met wear polo shirts and these huge freaking bows in their hair, what’s up with that?” I shrug, not really sure what jack ass came up with that idea.

“That’s me, just a normal girl who likes getting into trouble and reading the classics like this in my spare time.” He takes the huge telephone sized book next to me and I get a glimpse of the title War and Peace.
Eeeek
!

“Can I ask you something?” I change the subject before he starts questioning me on the dictionary in his hand.

“Anything, I am an open book.” He bites on the sliver ring on his lip.

“You moved from New York to Phenix City?” He cocks his brow and bobs his head yes. “Umm… Why?” I ask.

“My mom got remarried and we had to relocate because her ass-hat of a husband got transferred to Alabama. Thankfully, I only have one year left of school before I can get the hell out of this shitty little backwoods town and back to where our own kind is accepted.” He winks at me and I give him my best flirty smile. I feel the same way. Maybe when I leave I’ll l go to New York. I never thought about where I was going as long as I was just gone.

“So, Barbie.” I like the way he says my name, like he is savoring it in his mouth. “So when you are not reading the classics, what kind of trouble do you like to get into?” he asks.

“I used to do quite a bit, now I try to just stick with the classics,” I lie. He nods and sets the book down next to me. I scoop it back up. “I was thinking about checking this one out. I heard it was a good one.” I shake the book in front of me, which is quite a feat, seeing that the thing weighs as much as a basket of bricks. He takes my wrist into his hand and wraps his long, cool fingers completely around my wrist. Butterflies flutter in my stomachs.

“Loving with human love, one may pass from love to hatred; but divine love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, can shatter it. It is the very nature of the soul. And how many people I have hated in my life. And of all people none I have loved and hated more than her…” He cocks a dark eyebrow at me. His words send a shiver down my back.

“It is my favorite quote from
War and Peace
. What is yours?” Shit. I’m caught; I have never read a classic before, and maybe it is not even a classic. What the hell do I know about books, except they are filled with other people’s words?

My stomach tightens as his eyes take in my face. “I like all of them.” I smile.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks. I just met him and it is probably not smart for me to go with a stranger, but there might be a chance that he can help me forget about Dylan or at least, he might numb this whirlwind of emotion that is traveling through me. I nod. He drops the book with a loud thud and slips his long fingers into mine before pulling me towards the library doors.

#
##

Later that night, when I no longer have Kai to distract my thoughts, I lie in bed, listening to the sounds of Mrs. Knight tucking in Everett. The soft
sounds of good nights drift under my door and I suddenly cannot take it anymore. No matter how happy I am for Everett, the Brady Bunch, fake shit that they pull makes me feel physically ill. No one can be this happy. Parents can’t really give that much of a shit about what happens to their kids during the day and especially ones that are not their own.

I stand up, no longer able to tolerate the feeling of my own skin. I pace the room before I push open the window. I look down at the ground below; it’s not that far of a drop. I can probably make it to that tree branch and get down safely. Who cares if I get hurt going down? It will just be a reminder of the pain that still lurks in the shadows, just waiting to capture me and swallow me whole.

I pull on my combat boots, but I don’t bother changing out of my pink and blue polka dot pajama shorts and a green tank top. I don’t know where I am going and I don’t really care what I’m wearing. I twist my hair up into a messy bun and slip out the window. I stand on the ledge of the roof, looking out at the spider webbed tree branches of the giant oak in front of me.

Here goes nothing. I jump and reach for the outstretched limbs that wait to hold me. I free fall before I grab a fist full of sharp branches. The brittle branches snap in-between my fingers and I fall once again. I manage to grab a hold of a thick branch before crashing to the ground. My palms burn from the rough bark digging into them. I smile against it. It is not the numbing sensation I want, but it brings my reality closer to feeling more real.

When my feet hit the ground, I know that this is a fake sense of security that I am in. I’m not going to fall for it anymore. No one loves me. I was abandoned by my mother. The one boy I loved never really loved me back. The only truth that is close to me are the rumors that go around school about me; they are on the brink of becoming true. I take them and hold onto them like an old friend. The harsh, cold reality smacks me in the face. Awakening me. I feel that old urge that used to surface. I want to feel numb again. I want to not feel anything except the pure bliss of numbness. I want to forget.

Chapter 4.
Dylan

Barbie disappears into her room the moment the dishes are cleared from the dinner table. I know she doesn’t feel like she belongs with us and I wish I could take that insecurity away from her. Prove to her that she does belong, but I don’t even know how to talk to her anymore. She is different now, changed, though I know that the same girl who was infuriating yet appealing at the same time is somewhere in there. That girl who could knock you on your ass with a lash from her sharp tongue. I just don’t know how to get her back.

I scoop out three heaping bowls of ice cream. “More,” Emmy demands.

“Did anyone ever tell you, you are bossy,” I say pushing her back off the counter.

She sticks out her tongue. “Mom! Dylan is calling me bossy, come and punish him,” she bellows.

“Dylan, don’t call your sister bossy, and Emmy stop being bossy.” Mom sticks her head into the kitchen, the phone still attached to her head. Everett sits at the counter, taking in the interaction between the three of us, never speaking. Just listening. Every once in a while he will give us a clue that he knows what is going on and crack a smile. Before Everett and Barbie came to live with us, I really had no clue about Everett’s diagnoses. Sure, I had seen kids around school with special needs, but I never realized just how difficult life really is for them. It is one of the gifts they gave me, a better understanding of others. Before Barbie came in to my life I used to think everything was so black and white. Now, I can see the colors in between.

“Mom, Dylan is getting that weird look again,” Emmy calls out. I push the bowl of ice cream towards her and then slide one across for Everett. “You know, you are a tattle tale.”

She takes a big bite of ice cream. “Mom, Dylan called me a tattle tale.”

Mom hangs up the phone and walks into the kitchen. “Emmy, what did I tell you about tattle tailing?” my mom asks, giving her a stern look.

“I don’t think I remember.” She sticks her tongue between the gap in her mouth and scrunches up her little face like she is trying to think really hard about it.

I hop up on the counter and take a bite of ice cream and watch the interaction between my mother and Emmy. Everett is listening, too.

“What are the questions you are supposed to ask yourself before tattling?” she tries again.

“Am I hurt? Is someone else hurt? Is what I am saying helpful?” Emmy ticks off the questions.

“Good. Now, is what you were about to say important?” my mother asks.

“Yes, mommy, I think Dylan might have been having a heart attic!” she says.

“A heart attack,” my mother corrects her

“Yeah, one of those. His eyes went like this”—she blinks rapidly—”and his mouth was going like this”—she puckers her lips out, making a kissing face. “Or maybe he was thinking about being in love with Bar-bie.”

I roll my eyes and flick a piece of ice cream at her, it lands on her cheek and before my mother can scold me Everett squeals in delight. We turn to him, soaking in the rare moment when he shows emotion. My mother grabs a napkin and cleans off her face.

“Okay, it is time for bed. I will be up to say good night in a little bit. Take Everett with you.” My mom sends Emmy out of the kitchen. “So, you want tell me what’s going, and why Emmy thinks you are having a heart attack?” My mom starts to wash out the bowls. That little stinker; wait until she gets a boyfriend. It is going to be payback time.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, knowing damn well what she means.

“You and Barbie. You walk around here like a lovesick zombie and she is avoiding you like the plague. I am not blind, Dylan. I can tell something is going on between the two of you.” She looks at me with her freaky, know-it-all-mom eyes.

I tilt my head back, letting it rest behind me on the cupboard. “She is still ticked at me for telling you and Dr. Grant what happened with her mom’s boyfriend.” I sigh.

“You did the right thing, Dylan. If you didn’t say anything, her mother would have gotten away with continuing to abuse them.” She sighs, putting the rag on the counter next to me. “She knows you didn’t have a choice. She will come around. Now, what about the whole zombie-taking-over-my-son’s-body?”

I shake my head. “I know where Emmy gets her dramatics from. Nothing, Mom. I guess I am just thinking about Katie.”

She looks at me for a moment. “Hmm… She is a little intense, that girl.” No joke; Katie is a little intense. “Are you two being careful?” I smack the back of my head on the cupboard, hoping to knock myself out and avoid one of Mom’s famous talk-to-your-teen discussions.

“Mom, you don’t have anything to worry about,” I reassure her.

“Okay, just remember that I am too young to be a grandmother, and despite what the other kids are saying, Chlamydia is not fun.”

I shake my head. “Mom who says that?”

She shrugs. “Just remember if you are going to use it, wrap it or lose it!”

I jump down. “Got it, Mom. Thanks!” She smiles, confident that she has scared me from partaking in any sexual activities. “I have to go meet Katie in a little bit,” I say, hoping my mother will tell me she wants me to stay in for the night.

“Have fun and be home by curfew,” she sings. The phone rings and she runs to go get it, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which are dangerously close to wandering away. I should go talk to Barbie. I pace the kitchen back and forth, contemplating on going up to her room or not. Stupidity wins.

I hesitate by Barbie’s door, still debating on whether I should knock and beg her for forgiveness or leave well enough alone by going back to my new room in the dungeon. I put my hand to the door, ready to knock, she is so close, but before I can, my phone chirps, so I pull it out of my pocket to silence it before it gives my lurking away, and read the text.

KATIE: Hey baby be there in a few.

ME: K

KATIE: I miss u

KATIE: Cannot wait 2 C U! <3 <3 :)

KATIE: I <3 U

I stuff the phone back into my pocket and knock on the door. Nothing. I try again.

Knock, knock, knock.

I tap quietly. I don’t know what I am going to say, but I know I have to say something. I cannot leave things between us the way they are. I press my ear to the door, listening for a sign that she has heard me. Nothing. I crack the door open; her room is pitch black. Perhaps she went to sleep.

“Barbie, are you awake?” I whisper between the slit of her door. She doesn’t respond so I stick my head in all the way. Her bed is empty, the only sign she was here is the open window and a warm breeze that blows the pale pink curtains. She is gone.

“Dylan, what are you doing?” my mother’s voice is sharp, causing me to jump. Crap. I quickly shut the bedroom door behind me.

“I was just seeing if Barbie wanted any ice cream.” I keep one hand on the doorknob, my body blocking the doorframe.

“Well?” She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, squinting up at me.

“Well… uh… what?” I stammer.

“Well, what does she want, chocolate are vanilla?”

“Umm…”

She steps closer to me, trying to see what I’m hiding with her freaky Mom ESP. “Maybe I will just ask her myself since you can’t seem to remember.” She tries to step around me, however I don’t move. She stares me down and it is all I have not to look away. Instead, I stare back blankly.

“She doesn’t want any because she’s sleeping,” I finally say.

She looks me up and down, accusingly, and hmphs. “Fine.”

She picks up a few discarded toys on the top stairs then glares at me again. I’m holding my breath. I don’t know what she is capable of doing if she finds out Barbie defied one of her rules. I have never disobeyed her on such a level. “Don’t just lurk by her door, Dylan. It’s creepy.”

I exhale. “Okay.” I still stand protectively by the door.

She straightens up, her arms full of toys. “Dylan!” She nods towards the stairs. “Go. Katie is here in the kitchen with your dad. You better go and save her from one of his stories.”

I nod and reluctantly leave my protective post. I glance over at my mother to make sure she doesn’t go in the room, tripping on the bottom stairs.

“Whoa, there. Left foot then right.” My dad chuckles. “See what you girls do to us men, Katie.” He laughs at himself again while Katie politely laughs at my father’s lame attempt at a joke.

I walk over to Katie and give her a hug. She looks classic in a jean jacket, a white camisole and jean skirt. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with a black head band in it. I guess we are going out.

“Hey, baby.” Katie jumps up and gives me a hug.

“Hey.” I hug her back.

“Ah, young love. It is such a fickle thing; here one moment, gone the next,” my dad says. I give him a knowing smile because perhaps he is not as clueless as he likes to pretend.

Katie ignores my father. “You are not going to wear that are you?” she questions my choice of clothing; a plain grey shirt and faded jeans.

“No. I will go and change.” I kiss the top of her head and leave her to my father’s devices.

“Katie have you ever had the pleasure of viewing a civil war reenactment?” my father asks. I laugh to myself as I go down to my room.

I put a black, long-sleeved, button up shirt on because Katie hates all of my t-shirts and I don’t want to hear it all night long. I look in the mirror, running my hand through my hair with no luck; it fluffs up. I debate on changing my jeans, but decide against it. I don’t care that much.

My mind goes back to Barbie. She changed her hair back to pale blond. I like it. She looks more like herself, comfortable. She was still hot as hell with it dark, but it was like she was walking around in someone else’s skin. Where did she sneak off to?

I pull on my black chucks and go upstairs. My dad is showing Katie photos of his reenactment of the civil war when I come back into the kitchen. Katie is politely listening with a look of tedium in her eyes.

“So where’re you kids off to tonight.” Dad stretches his sock covered feet out in front of him and yawns. I look at Katie for the answer.

“Oh, just going to hang out with some friends.” She jumps up and races to my side, begging me to rescue her from my father.

“Well, you kids don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks at us.

“Sure, Dad,” I say.

We say our good-byes and leave before my dad tries to show us his slides of the battle of Chattanooga.

“I’ll drive,” I say when we get outside.

“But…” Katie begins to protest. I’m already climbing into my truck, so she has no choice other than to get in.

###

Katie sits on my lap and I tilt my head back, sighing. I am so bored that I let myself day-dream of Barbie and where she is at and who she is with. If I had just gone up to her earlier, maybe she would be back at my house safe.

“What could you possibly be thinking about?” one of Katie’s friends asks. I don’t know who she is. I refer to her as the small, loud one.

“Nothing.” I grab my coke off the table and take a drink.

“Yeah, right, no one looks so deep in thought to only be thinking about nothing or nobody.” She gives me a knowing smile.

“Are you thinking about me, baby?” Katie turns in my lap so she is facing me. She wraps her arms around my neck.

“Of course,” I say.

“Awww,” Katie’s group of friends sigh together.

“Can you two try not to rub it in our faces? Some of us are lonely and single,” the short, plump one says.
Jill
?

Katie smashes her mouth to mine and our teeth clank together before she sticks her tongue down my throat. Everything is a show for Katie; I learned that quickly. She is giving her friends what she thinks they want to see. I sit there, limply, not really kissing her back, but Katie doesn’t notice or care.

Breaking away, she wipes at my lips with her fingertips and turns back to her friends. “I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper in her ear. I want to get away and give Third a call, maybe he has seen Barbie?

“Now?” she frets. What does she want me to do, hold it until I piss myself?

“Yeah now,” I say it loud enough to pique the interest of her friend next to us.

Katie saves face and kisses me. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.”

Her friend next to her gets that dreamy look in her eyes while I merely roll mine. I cannot believe that at one time I actually cared what these people thought of me.

I zip up my pants and wash my hands in the cold water. I leave them under there for a while. Maybe if I stay in here long enough, I can fake being sick and go home. Then again, I don’t
really want to go home, knowing she’s not there. I dry my hands and call Third, leaning against the bathroom stall.

The phone rings three times before he answers. “What’s up, home slice?”

I shake my head and laugh. “I am stuck with the psycho and her herd of automatons,” I say.

“That blows.” I can hear the clicking of a key board and the sound of small explosions in the background.

“I know. What are you doing? I think I’m going to fake sick and get out of here.” I confess my plan to him.