Paper Dolls, Book One

by Emma Chamberlain

  That question had always hung in my mind. The unanswered fear in the back of my head. I’d always been afraid to ask because there were so many lies he could tell and one thing I feared would be the truth. Part of me wanted him to say it.

  “You’re special.” He leaned over the table and smiled, his eyes slipped down and back up. “There’s something different about you.”

  Lies. That couldn’t be true. He had so many other options. He could have any woman his own age but he was here with me. There was an excitement to it in the beginning. Now, it frayed me more than it made me feel good. “I’m not special.” You just think I’m hot and you like the danger. The thought occurred to me so often that I just accepted it now. He’d become different with me, darker.

  “Someday you’ll believe me.” He wrapped the end of his index finger around mine and tugged until his fingers were wrapped up with mine. “I wanna see you this weekend. Come over Saturday night.” He shook my hand and made a silly face, his lips puckering and eye squeezing to slits. “You know you want to.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Fine but only Saturday night.” Sometimes Mom actually managed to be sober for a while on Sunday morning so she could cook brunch. And I really did need to finish some homework. “You should take me home after we eat though.” At the end of the night I knew he was going to try to get me to go home with him.

  The waitress came back with our food and set it down. Ben was arrogant enough to order for me but he did know what I liked. Most girls would like if the guy they were seeing did that. I just found it super annoying.

  We ate in silence. It pressed in on me but I was too hungry to worry. It was nice to have something warm and fresh to eat. I hated to cook but I did it when I really wanted something. Usually, I just got some fruit and a muffin for breakfast. I always ate the lunch at school. Sometimes, if I’m really starving or restless, I end up going over to Skylar’s house and eating there. But I’ve tried to stop doing that lately.

  I stay away from home a lot. It’s easier. All my school activities, some of them I don’t even care about but, they keep me busy. I like to be busy.

  I shoved the last of my eggs into my mouth and chewed, glancing up at Ben.

  He was gazing at me, kind of far off with this drifting look on his face, but as soon as he noticed I was looking his face transformed. He was smiling and happy again. “Come on, let’s go,” I muttered. He always finished eating before me.

  On the way to the car I got this weird sensation. A creeping up the back of my neck. I slipped a hand under my hair and rubbed, trying to rid myself of the chilly feeling. I turned around, looking back at the diner. It looked so warm inside and out here, welcoming, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  Ben started the car as I got in and checked the mirrors. He backed out of the spot and I shifted over to turn the radio on. Classic rock boomed from the speakers. It was welcome in the place of whatever words he was going to wind around my mind.

  When he pulled up outside my house I tried to hurry up and get out but his hand shot over and he gripped my wrist, pulling me back into him. The seat belt bit into my skin as it pulled tight, but I couldn’t move. His lips were on mine and his arm was keeping me in place.

  Just like every other time I gave in and let him overtake me. A few kisses and his tongue pushed past my lips, insistent, looking for something inside of me. Some kind of rebellion rose up in me and I drew back by inches, dragging my teeth along his bottom lip. He groaned and my hand was on the door handle, opening the door and then back to the button release of the seat belt before he even knew I had moved.

  Instead of saying anything, I shut the door and looked back in the window, winking and taking in the destroyed expression that he wore. I walked away, knowing that he was going to get me back somehow. Sometimes I was surprised at how good I was at the game we played.

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia

  Mr. Bradford’s snazzy sports car was fast. Surprise, surprise, the enigma strikes again, he must have outstanding tickets or something because, he keeps going slow. I feel like I’m following Pepe Le Pew, that suave stupid animated skunk insistent on harassing that innocent young cat. Mr. Bradford’s Camaro looks freshly washed. In my experience, a man with a car like that doesn’t usually buy it to obey the rigid street laws and wave hello to every squirrel passing by. I’ve heard about his desert drives before, he’s told me first hand. Ninety plus, with his foot on the gas. That seemed so much different than his princely manner right now.

  I clutched the steering wheel and felt tense. I knew this trip would lead me to her somehow and that made my stomach ache.

  Ask me if I’m sad...

  I could feel her honest voice still inside me and it practically kicked me to go on, urging me forward.

  We passed all the usual things. The entrance to the school office, the east-side Mormon church where very few of my schoolmates belonged, the expensive vet where only people as rich as my parents would ever go, and then the giant Springer Park that spanned several sprawling acres on the entire left-hand side of the well-manicured main Huntington Hill Road.

  Our school has it’s own athletic and art facilities so we never have to go to the park unless there’s a play or something in the amphitheater outside, an event so big that half the town would need to come. Sometimes the football field just isn’t the right venue.

  As I passed the park I thought about Avery. She must’ve been acting in that park every summer with the other theater kids. I thought of her pacing barefoot through the grass in a long white medieval gown like the Lady of Shalott.

  Perhaps she did Camelot. Perhaps she was Guinevere. I can see her in that.

  A not so prominent quote invaded my brain.

  I felt my lips moving but barely heard the quote that escaped them.

  “But Lancelot mused a little space. He said: She has a lovely face; God in his mercy, lend her grace… The lady of Shalott...”

  I pondered on seeing her fair among the grass. Possibly surrounded, possibly somehow still alone. I’d park and watch. I’d stare for hours. How is it I’d never much noticed her before?

  The thought of her there like that was so enjoyable; I had to shake myself back into life. The now was important. What if he was seriously stalking her or something?

  Ben drove on, oblivious to my musings. I stayed well enough behind but I was constantly scared that he might get an urge and accelerate, disappearing from my view.

  If he did do that, I’d silently thank him. I didn’t want for this to be true. I didn’t want to have to see him as a criminal and her as an innocent waif.

  My car is no sports car but it’s definitely nice. I can speed with just a flick of my foot. If I had to guess I’d say Mr. Bradford’s car and my own cost about the same amount to buy flat out. As a general rule, my parents spare no expense when something is for the eyes of the public. No daughter of theirs would be seen driving anything less than a perfectly pristine $50,000 status toy.

  Mine is a Cadillac Sedan, a little CTS. I say little because it’s way smaller than what they wanted to get me. It’s the closest to normal I could convince them to buy. My parents wanted me to get a large Escalade, a steadfast government car, but I lied and told them it’d be too hard to drive so they caved and got me the Cadillac. I was already that weird tense rich kid at school. I didn’t need a bigger sign on my back. Unlike some of the others, I didn’t particularly like to show my wealth off left and right.

  No matter all that: it’s jet black, inconspicuous, smells like leather, drives like a dream. It feels more like my home than my vehicle. It’s mine. All mine. I don’t have many things that can protect me like that.

  I didn’t even know about it until I came home and it was there. I’d much prefer Ben’s trade-mark yellow Camaro to my old man car with its nearly classic frame, it’s needless bulletproof glass, and it’s dark tinted windows for hiding government secrets I didn’t necessarily have… Yet.


  Never say never...

  I turned the stereo all the way off. I needed to concentrate. All I could hear was my own nervousness, my own breathing. I was inflicting this on myself. This crusade was entirely optional. But I wanted it and that frightened me.

  As we finally passed the park, Mr. Bradford turned into a Shell. I pulled into a near-hidden spot on the right and waited for him to pump his gas, or buy his drinks, or do whatever it is he did before meeting with underage girls at unknown places. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Of all the things I could never predict…

  I trusted Ben. I really trusted him. This was...

  He stood outside, his shirt still open like before. He leaned back on his car and stared up at the lights as if they were bathing him.

  Briefly, he looked my way. I forgot about my windows. I always did. I turned my head fast and pretended to rummage for something before remembering the extreme tint that shielded me, the extreme tint that was actually illegal in many places without a hefty permit and a status-marking fine. When I looked back his way again he was finishing and getting back in.

  His car rolled away. I waited two beats before following him again.

  My phone rang. I ignored it.

  It could be Nat. I didn’t care.

  His car began taking odd sorts of turns. I was paranoid he might've figured me out. I decided to hang back just a little bit more, just in case. Turns out he was just bored and probably screwing around.

  Finally his car came to a long residential street. It slowed to a stop in front of a house. I parked far away, waiting.

  It could be his house. I couldn’t completely rule it out. But he’d been acting so strange and now he wasn’t getting out of his car.

  I scanned the houses for some sort of sign. Nothing. Nothing was happening. The street was so silent and still it nearly frightened me.

  The stillness was driving me mad. My eyes bore into the back of Ben’s car. What the hell was he doing?

  I felt like screaming his name. His REAL name. He always wanted me to call him by that but I refused most of the time. In my mind it was always Ben but in person I called him Mr. Bradford. I was smart that way, always professional, unlike some.

  My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing grew tight.

  It could be nothing. Really it could.

  But then he got out.

  I felt like moving up. I felt like getting closer, maybe even getting out just to see.

  It wasn’t nothing. I was obviously right.

  Mr. Bradford crossed the empty street. That decided it, I had to get out. My car was already off so I snuck out and ran around it, taking care to be quick. Mr. Bradford was still walking when I hit the sidewalk and hid behind a bush.

  I was careful in making my way up. There was still nothing though, no voices. Maybe he was going to break in.

  Tall upright juniper bushes lined the edges of this particular house all the way up to the fence. As I moved swiftly behind the bushes, in silence, I had my suspicions. This wasn’t Mr. Bradford’s house, he wouldn’t live here, in the middle of a street, and park his car away from his garage. He’d told me before, I knew that he lived all alone. Since I was paranoid, a little extra care couldn’t hurt. I ducked down and moved my way to the front side of the house, sneaking low around the last bush until I finally came eye level to Mr. Bradford’s feet on the elevated porch. He was several feet away but this still felt too close. However, it was the very place I needed to be in order to hear.

  The creaking of the wood beneath his soles made me itchy. There was noise inside, quick pounding feet down carpeted stairs. This was the kind of house she would live in. Safe neighborhood. Middle class. Modest. Two story. Two bath.

  Why would Mr. Bradford need a house like this?

  He just wouldn’t.

  The more I thought it, the truer it became.

  I heard the door open. Then that voice.

  It was Avery. It was.

  My heart pounded in my chest. She was angry with him, cursing at him. Despite previously adoring Ben, I was instantly on her side.

  He shouldn’t be on her porch. He shouldn’t even be in her life.

  He was cocky though, entirely intrusive, he seemed to be testing her, teasing her, just by showing up where she lived.

  I immediately knew I should not be where I was, I just should not. But their voices were addicting. Avery’s voice especially. I liked it full of venom. But I guess I realized that a little while ago, didn’t I?

  I heard a scuffle, a physical exchange, and I carefully looked up. She had pushed him back and it looked like he had let her do it. Her hand was on his firm chest and he was holding it there, forcing her to touch him. Mr. Bradford looked fluffed and turned on. For a second I thought they might kiss. They were just standing in such a way. It seemed he was intent on this all along. But she was obviously mad.

  It took all my strength not to jump up and say something. All my strength not to make a goddamn sound and give myself away.

  Then she grabbed him or he grabbed her. They were walking across the road toward his car.

  “Shit!” I cursed to myself. They were getting away.

  I had to get back to them. I pushed around the bushes and snuck around again, I couldn’t hear them anymore.

  I waited for his car to start up and then drive.

  As soon as they started moving away I sprinted across the road and hurried to chase them.

  This was stupid. This was so fucking dumb. But I couldn’t really stop now, I was already halfway to a dead-set hypothesis.

  I caught up with his car only to see him park just another street-length away at some busy corner diner off the freeway.

  It looked like a rundown sort of place. Big trucks nearly surrounded it as if to protect it. Only a few normal cars were parked in the lot and I added mine to those few.

  I threw my hair up fast, making it messy. I had emergency ballet flats in my glove-compartment and I threw them on. Rummaging in my back seat I found one of Natalie’s oversized lounging hoodies and I pulled it on over myself. It was soft and it still smelled like her. I breathed her in and sighed.

  One thing was for certain, no one would ever think of seeing me in this place, the least of which Ben Bradford and Avery Lockhart on some romantic little rendezvous. They had other things on their minds, that was obvious, but I couldn’t entirely be sure so precautions were necessary.

  I walked in with a purpose, hiding my face under my hood.

  I got lucky, Ben was the one with his face toward the door and he wasn’t looking around. I was just another kid in his periphery, just like at school. He was used to ignoring us, that was half of his job. I stared at him though, which was risky. He’d made comments about my enchanting green eyes before. His words, not mine. I figured my hood would definitely mute their hue at least for now. He was staring at Avery with such intensity though. Even from across the room I could feel what that meant. To him, she was the candy. Forbidden. Brand new.

  I didn’t like that look on him. It made him seem foolish. A man. Nothing more.

  I never thought of him this way.

  This was proof enough. I could stop now. I could stop.

  What the hell was I doing?! Why’d I have to follow them so far? I mean, I knew it in the parking lot. I knew it just seeing Ben.

  Ben… Why was I okay with calling him that? He wanted me calling him that.

  Mr. Bradford. He was Mr. Bradford. This was Mr. Bradford, not some normal older man, this was my favorite Teacher and he was doing things I didn’t like.

  God… All those late nights in the media center.

  What if he was thinking…

  What if there are more?

  I shook it out of my head. If I wanted to get answers I had to remain calm.

  The booth behind Avery was empty. I tucked my back right inside it. I was so close to Avery I could almost feel her back touching mine.

  He ordered for her. She didn’t correct him. Either
she didn’t care or he knew what she liked. Both of those thoughts were disturbing. I felt a lump in my throat. An intense urge to cough took hold.

  I did cough. The waitress saved me.

  “What’d you like honey?” Her voice overlaid my coughing and covered me up.

  “Coffee. Fries.” I didn’t want fucking anything. I kept my words terse and tried my best not to sound like myself.

  I had to seem normal. I pulled a notepad out of my bag before noticing the notes. They were my Avery notes from our failed interview. FUCK!

  I closed the notebook fast and tucked it away. I had another notebook, a smaller one, leather bound, it would do. Usually I only used it for personal poetry but I guess right now I didn’t have much of a choice.

  While they talked, I scribbled things down to try and look busy. It took everything I had not to scribble down exactly what they were saying. I found myself slipping. When Avery talked I felt her words in my throat.

  “What were you thinking,” she said.

  “I was thinking that I wanted to see you.”

  My coffee came fast. I sat back straight as a board and drank some, listening still. Mr. Bradford said something about Avery blowing him off. Blowing him off for what? How often did they meet?

  And why on Earth would he make me do this assignment if he was going to see her today?

  I mean, yeah, it probably wouldn’t be predictable to find me here, but still. I’ve never been a half-ass journalist. I’ve always gone above and beyond. Ben- I mean- Mr. Bradford- fucking knows that.

  “Since when do we spend every moment together?” She asked.

  “That’s not my fault,” he said. But he was talking about something else. I felt my ears glued to their voices. All the other muttering and clinking was almost extinct, that's how rapt I truly was, a whole loud diner may as well not exist.

  The only way this could be better is if I could put on an invisibility cloak like in Harry Potter and step out of this booth, stand right before them and stare right at them while they spoke. Just the idea made me shudder. I didn’t need to be that close, I just wanted to be. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see the way she looked at him, if she even looked at him at all. With my luck her spidey senses would tingle, she’d be just like Draco Malfoy and kick me right in the face because I was wrong in being here, there was no way around that.