It’s like I can’t remember how to talk. Gabby’s pained face is enough to make me want to reverse time and fix whatever it was I did. “Then let me be a human again,” I say. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, Gabby.”
“Your human body is broken.”
“I already guessed that,” I say, “but my heart’s not broken. You only need a heart to live, right? I love you, so you’re all I need. Let me be selfless, Gabby. Let me be the person I was too weak to be before.”
“That’s sweet, Ella. Maybe one day we can take you up on your promise, but today’s not the day.”
“Aren’t I a good person?”
“You’re always sweet as a doll. It’s human you that’s venal.”
I don’t know what that word means, but it can’t be anything flattering. “I’ll prove you wrong, Gabby. You told me I used to live in an attic alone, but now I’m with you, seeing the world and learning new things. Maybe being alone was what made me sad. Maybe now… I’m truly happy.”
Gabby smiles and strokes my hair. She goes to speak, but instead picks me up and cuddles me.
It’s at this very moment in her loving embrace that I realize I’d do absolutely anything for her.
I’d move the mountains.
I’d split the oceans.
I’d give my life.
Gladly.
’m just saying it’s creepy how pale your head is underneath all that hair.”
“Then stop looking at it!” Gabby’s really irritable today, and it’s starting to rub off on me. She lifts me from her head and shoves me into one of the outside pockets on her bag. “Just be quiet.”
I roll my eyes and peep through the pocket flap. Kids are slumping into school, all of them hunched and gangly and glued to their phones.
“What class do we have first?” I ask, but Gabby doesn’t respond. Either she can’t hear me over the chatter, or she’s ignoring me. I’d better find out. “Hey, Gab?”
“It’s Gabby! Never Gab!” she snaps. Well, I guess that answers that.
We enter the school, the sunlight now blocked out by brick and clanging lockers. I like learning, except the teachers don’t treat the students well, so students don’t treat the teachers well. It’s a vicious circle. They’re forced to learn and in turn, they’re forced to teach. When the teacher isn’t inspired, they can’t be inspiring, so everyone ends up hating the weekdays. The pressure is so great, the kids end up having mental breakdowns, or they just stop caring. Seriously, what does it matter if you suck at math when you want to be a journalist? Or can’t swing a baseball bat when you want to be a seamstress? Life would be soooo much easier for everyone if the education system stopped getting its panties in a twist and taught something important, like oh… how to be an adult. Or get insurance. But what would I know? I’m just a doll.
Except, even I know you don’t spar in the middle of a school corridor. Brad and Rick clearly don’t. At first, it looks like they’re mucking around, but when Gabby stops and takes cover in a random doorway, I realize it’s serious. They’re big guys, cliché footballers. Gabby was friends with them years ago, but they went their separate ways when the boys found a peppier group to hang with, the cheerleaders.
“Why would you say that?!” Brad shrieks, his voice hoarse. He shoves Rick, who shoves him back.
“You’re overreacting! It was a joke!”
“Saying that my girlfriend’s dead when she’s been missing for a day is a joke?”
Gabby stiffens.
“Amanda,” we both whisper. Gabby pulls me out of her bag and lets me climb onto her shoulder. It’s her subtle way of apologizing, I suppose. I stroke her ear as we watch the boys scuffle.
“My girlfriend’s missing, too!” Rick shouts, misaiming when he swings a punch.
“So why would you joke about it?” Brad tackles Rick to the ground, pinning him between his thighs. He pounds him in the face several times before two teachers run in to pry them apart.
Rick is in bad shape, and his eye is already swelling up, but he’s going to live―as will Brad. At least, until the Powers That Be get through with them. The boys sheepishly follow Ms. Fry, who directs them to the principal’s office.
“Move on! Get to class!” Mr. Winter shoos the rest of us away, his constant scowl in place and accounted for. Gabby told me it’s because he hates the universe for taking away his hair and replacing it with a large stomach, but I’m pretty sure she was kidding.
“We have sports first.” Gabby shifts her bag from the arch in her back. She takes an alternate route to the gym, avoiding the crowds and going up the stairs to the forgotten bathroom.
“Amanda and Bryony are missing,” I whisper, nervously plaiting the hair dangling by her ear.
“They’re not the only ones.”
“What do you mean?”
Gabby opens the bathroom door, wincing at the squeaky hinge. The lights are off, like always, and the graffiti still hasn’t been cleaned off the stalls. She bends over to check if anyone else is in, and pops me on the sink when she’s satisfied we’re alone.
“Did you see any cheerleaders when we walked in?” she asks.
I go to speak, until I actually think about the question. Usually, at least, three can be found rehearsing their routine outside, or smooching their boyfriends near the lockers. Unless I’ve become desensitized to the grotesque and unnecessary display, there were definitely no cheerleaders in sight.
“Fiddlesticks,” I murmur. “Maybe they’re home mourning Amanda and Bry?”
“What? All of them?” I don’t appreciate the coldness in Gabby’s tone. She shakes her head and scrambling around her bag for a change of clothes, swiftly replaces her jeans with track pants. Her blue polo shirt and trainers she keeps on as she messily ties her hair into a loose ponytail and swaps her hoop earrings for studs. I miss the girly way she used to dress. She’s such a tomboy now. Well, maybe not so much tomboy as lazy; she wears the same outfit three times in one week just because she doesn’t want to do the washing.
Out of the blue, someone sniffs.
Gabby raises her head like a dog who just heard a can of food being opened. “Was that you, Ella?”
“Wasn’t me,” I whisper. “Someone’s in here.”
“But I checked underneath the cubicles!”
“People raise their feet if they’re hiding, dummy.” I point at the far end. “It came from over there.”
Someone sniffs again, as if in response.
“Who’s there?” Gabby inches slowly towards the stall.
No answer. Cautiously, she nudges the door, which swings open, hitting the wall with a thud. Curled up on the toilet seat is Lacy, in her bright blue and yellow cheerleader uniform. Her cheeks are mascara-stained and her eyes are bloodshot.
“Help!” she sobs out between breaths, dropping her feet to the floor and rocking back and forth. “Help me! They took everyone! Everyone! They’re going to come back for me!”
Gabby crouches so that she’s at Lacy’s eye level. She gently reaches for her hand, but Lacy pulls away. The two have never gotten along, but not for any real reason, it was just a personality clash.
“What do you mean, Lacy?” Gabby asks. It’s nice to hear some warmth back to her voice.
“They took all of the cheerleaders!” Lacy shrieks. “I’ve been here since yesterday, hiding.”
“Your parents didn’t worry about you not coming home?”
“They’re on holiday trying to fix their personal problems. I was happy being alone, you know? I liked the freedom. And then… these men in white came to practice. Our coach was away for the week so we had training without her. They released some kind of sleeping gas and just took them. I ran, I’m a strong runner, and they haven’t found me yet. I don’t know what to do!”
“You have to go to the police!” I blurt, my faith in the justice system is still strong.
Lacy snatches some toilet paper and blows her nose. “Stupid robo
t. I’m not going to the police.”
“Why not?” I ask, ignoring Gabby’s obvious throat-clearing cue.
Lacy narrows her eyes. “Because the police are in on it.”
I gasp. “That’s porpoise’s touch!”
“What did that thing say?”
“She means prosperous,” Gabby covers. “Ah, preposterous. Sorry, I think this robot needs defragging. Anyway, how could the police be in on it? Why would they allow dozens of girls to be kidnapped?”
Lacy hovers the toilet paper underneath her nose. “I was at the bubblers, just before practice, when I heard Devin on the phone to her dad. She was angry with him. She hung up and stormed through the hall. I asked her what was wrong, and she just said that the world is corrupt and money-hungry. Then she left. Whatever it was, they’re in it for the money.”
Gabby and I shake our heads. “Lacy, that’s insane! Devin was just arguing with her father.” Gabby scans Lacy for injuries. “We really need to take you to the police, or to the hospital, or something. I can call your parents?”
Lacy curls up into a tighter ball. “I’m not hurt. Don’t call my parents. They’re already having problems in their marriage… I can’t add to their worry.”
“This is a little more important than their relationship―”
“I’m not calling them, okay?! And I’m not going to the police!”
“Lacy, you have to tell them what happened! They can help you!”
I scoff. Gabby’s such a hypocrite. Her parents have been missing for a day, and she still hasn’t reported it just because the professor told her not to. See how school isn’t useful? It’s still producing nitwits.
“No one can help me! I need to hide!” Lacy shrills. She abruptly stands and knocks Gabby over. I hold onto her for dear life as we go down hard against the brick wall.
Lacy bursts through the door, her feet slamming against the tiles.
“Lacy, wait!” Gabby scrambles to pick herself up. We chase after her, but she’s long gone. She’s right. She is a fast runner.
“Fiddlesticks,” I mumble, gripping onto Gabby’s ear. She pants heavily, and I feel like I’m going to fall.
“You can swear, you know,” Gabby says when she catches her breath.
I pause. “Fffff… fu… funk. Funky town. Nope, sorry.”
She smiles and heads back to the bathroom. “Do you think we should tell the principal?”
“Ah, yeah. A girl just claims she knows who took all the cheerleaders. Of course we tell!”
“She’s gonna hate me for it.”
“So?” I prod her temple. “She never really liked you anyway. And maintaining a guilt-free conscience is important.”
“We’d be helping her, right? I just don’t like ratting on someone if I don’t know the full story.”
“Gabby, this is beyond ratting. This could possibly mean life or death.” I sigh. “Trust me.”
My stomach metaphorically churns. I hope we’re doing the right thing.
“And she just ran off?” Principal Tony repeats. He’s a pretty cool guy. He’s young, hip, and has the loveliest speaking voice. His jaw is crooked, but I think it gives his face character, along with his dark, slightly droopy eyes. Truth be told, I have a slight crush on him, but I’d never admit that to Gabby. He’s not at all handsome, but there’s something remarkably attractive about him. Maybe it’s because he’s calm personified. Or it’s the way he rolls up his sleeves and loosens his tie. Or his insistence that students call him by his first name, because the “barriers are so 2010’s.”
I wish he knew I was real.
“Yeah.” Gabby shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Is it true, though? Are all the cheerleaders missing?”
“I haven’t seen them today, but honestly, didn’t think much of it. I don’t recognize people’s faces very well.” He strokes that gorgeous crooked chin of his. “Cursed prosopagnosia.” Oh, Principal Tony and his quirks. “I’ll call the police and see what’s going on. And, of course, send out a search team for Lacy and contact her parents at once. Thanks for coming to see me, Gabby. You might’ve just saved a life.”
I wait for him to thank me, too, but then remember I’m just the extremely intelligent robot. I hate living a lie.
“I hope so. Thanks, Principal Tony. I better get to Spanish.”
“Certainly. Ciao, Gabby!” Oh. He speaks Spanish, too. Where do his talents end? If I had a heart, I’d clasp my hands to it.
Gabby dawdles down the empty corridor, scuffing her feet. She’s trying to act cool, but I can tell the Lacy incident is bothering her.
“The Lacy thing is bothering me,” Gabby mumbles. Wow, I’m good.
“I know.” I nod. “It’s bothering me too. But we’ve done all we can do.”
“Did we, though?”
“Gabby, you’re a kid. I’m a doll. Our only power in this world is telling an older person and hoping they’ll fix it. We did that.”
“I guess…” Gabby enters the classroom, all eyes on her. “Sorry I’m late. I was with the principal.”
The class oohs in a way that implies she was in trouble. Ms. Wilson hushes them and scratches her wrist, bumping the somewhat tarnished bracelet.
“Is everything okay, Gabrielle?”
“Not really, but it’s not my problem.” Gabby drops her bag, kicking it until it wedges in between the legs of her desk. She sits down and immediately copies the phrases on the board into her workbook. We’re seated in the middle of the room, which kind of sucks. It means you can hear nearly everything that everyone says.
Just now, they are nattering about Gabby.
It’s nothing bad. It’s mainly about me and why a sixteen-year-old is still obsessed with a doll, even if it is a fancy robot. A lot of people have grown to accept me, especially after the video went viral, but Gabby still doesn’t have many friends. It’s all those stupid mental health rumors. None of which is true, which is why it hurts so much.
“Say: estoy esperando el tren.”
“Estoy esperando el tren,” the class mumbles.
“Now, nadie está en el tren.”
“Nadie está en el tren.”
Something whizzes past and lands on the desk. It’s scrunched up paper… a note. Gabby unfolds it and leans in to interpret the scribble. I’m a better reader since I started going to school, so it doesn’t take me long to work it out.
CHECK OUT MY ROBOT. BETTER THAN URS. HA!
Gabby cranes her neck to find the writer, settling on Maddie, who stares at us with a smug grin. Maddie is one of those kids that no one likes, mainly because she puts herself in an instant horse race with everyone she meets. The sad part is, she could be quite pretty, if her face wasn’t always scrunched up into a devious sneer. She’s had the same hairstyle for years; a dark bob that looks like she washes it with three bottles of shampoo and conditioner each night. I am all for personal hygiene, but there’s a limit.
Maddie points to her pencil case and whispers into it. When nothing happens, she frowns and taps the table. It kind of looks like she’s trying to convince something to come out, but not having much luck.
“What’s she doing?” I whisper.
Gabby rolls her eyes. “Again, not my problem. I need to concentrate. I’m flunking Spanish.”
“Do you need Spanish to be an architect or to work in IT?”
“No, but I need it to graduate high school to become an architect or to work in IT.”
I shrug. “Hmm. Weird.”
The bell rings, way earlier than it should.
“This class went fast!” John whoops with marginally forced enthusiasm, but no one quite packs up.
It rings longer than it usually does. We exchange confused looks until Ms. Wilson gasps.
“Kids.” Her throat tightens. “It’s lockdown. Quick, everyone, under your desks! John, close the blinds!” Ms. Wilson hurries to the door and flicks the lock, before daintily tiptoeing back to her desk. She crouches next to it, instead of under it, periodically
reminding everyone to be quiet.
The bell doesn’t stop ringing. It’s horrible—hiding in silence beneath a desk, with not one of us the wiser.
There’s a high-pitched scream, followed by heavy footsteps slamming down the corridor.
“I’ll kill them if they come near me!” It’s Lacy, but her voice is low and hoarse. She sounds demonic. “I’ll kill them all!”
Several of us whimper, frantically grasping onto someone’s, anyone’s, hand. I tug on Gabby’s hair, far too anxious to stay put.
“Show yourselves!” Lacy cries, her silhouette hovering outside the frosted window in the door. “I am the last cheerleader! Come and get me!”
“I can’t stay here listening to this, Gabby,” I whisper when Lacy disappears down the corridor.
She winces. “Me neither.”
I brace myself as Gabby shoots up from under the desk and races for the door.
“Gabrielle! Stop! What are you doing?” Ms. Wilson shrieks, but we’ve already left them behind. Gabby sprints through the halls, skidding as she turns the corners.
“Will we get in trouble for this?” I ask, my vision blurred. Everything blurs when Gabby runs fast.
“You won’t. I will.” She comes to an abrupt halt when she spots Lacy who... I goggle. The girl’s leaning against a locker, brandishing a knife. I guess she must’ve raided the food-tech lab.
Gabby approaches with her hands in the air. “Lacy? What’s going on? You’ve got the school on lockdown,” she says calmly over the piercing ring.
“I want those men to come back! I want them to come back so I can kill them with my bare hands!” Suddenly, Lacy taps the end of the knife and drives it into the locker she’s leaning against. She grins, kind of horrifyingly pleased. “Yep! That’s exactly what I’ll do to them.”
I flinch and poke Gabby. “What’s happened to her? Has she gone mad?”
“I… don’t think so? It’s the lack of sleep, the guilt, the emotions…” Gabby shrugs. “But don’t I ask me. I don’t even play a shrink on TV.”
Shattered Girls (Broken Dolls Book 2) Page 4
