by Foxglove Lee
Thankfully, my aunt blinked away what she’d seen and pretended like she hadn’t heard what Mikey said. “Help the girls pick up this mess, and you apologize to Tiffany for ruining her tape.”
“It wasn’t me!” Mikey cried, and his voice had such a pleading quality that I actually believed him. “Yvette did it! She’s mad at Rebecca for liking Tiffany, and for throwing her in the septic tank!”
Yvette stood stiffly on my uncle’s chair, smirking, and my stomach plunged. Mikey had no way of knowing I’d thrown my doll in the tank. I hadn’t told anyone about that, except Tiffany, and when would she have confided in my little brother?
“Think about what you’re saying.” My aunt went back to serving out dinner. “How on earth would a doll tear apart a girl’s purse?”
“Or a girl’s room?” I muttered. “Or set her furniture on fire, or escape from sewage, or haunt the rich people’s cottage?”
Tiffany looked up at me, and she seemed scared. For the first time since Yvette had washed up on the island, Mikey looked scared too.
“She’s evil,” I told them, loud enough for my aunt to hear. Aunt Libby turned around and looked at me, and her concerned gaze lingered against mine. “I’m not crazy. It really happened. All of it.”
Aunt Libby’s expression softened until I thought maybe, finally, she might believe me.
“Thanks,” Tiffany mumbled, taking her purse from my hands and placing it gently on the couch.
“It wasn’t me,” Mikey defended himself.
Tiffany offered him half a smile as we sat at the table. “I know.”
It felt good to eat real food, even if it was fish. We picked at our meal in silence, until my uncle tried to make conversation. “So, Bec, did you start your new needlework project? Your aunt showed me the kit. It looks pretty challenging.”
“Yeah, I got a lot done.”
“I guess a few sick days aren’t the end of the world,” my aunt said.
My uncle followed that up quickly, saying, “Not that we weren’t worried about you.”
As silence overcame us, the phone rang in the living room. It made me jump because I knew in my gut who it was going to be. Mikey looked at me while Aunt Libby got up to answer, and I could see in his eyes that he knew, too.
Aunt Libby glanced quickly at us before picking up the phone. “Hello? Hey, how’s it going?” She breathed in sharply, and that worried me. I couldn’t hear the voice on the line, but I knew who it was. “Oh, well, Rebecca was sick for a few days. No, she’s fit as a fiddle now. We’re just eating supper.”
I wondered suddenly if anyone had told my mother about my furniture burning down. Worse yet, had the police contacted her after my little breaking-and-entering ordeal? Oh God, I didn’t want her to know about that. She had enough on her mind.
“Mikey?” Aunt Libby clasped her hand over the receiver. “It’s your mother.”
Usually, Mikey would be clawing at the phone. This time, he didn’t even look up.
“Mikey,” my uncle said. “Your aunt’s speaking to you.”
My brother stared at his plate, and I understood how he was feeling better than he’d ever know.
“Rebecca?” My aunt tried me next. “You’ve got a fair deal to discuss, you and your mum.”
I could tell the she was holding the phone out in my direction, but I didn’t turn around. There were so many emotions flitting around inside of me. The second I heard my mother’s voice, I knew I’d have a meltdown. I wasn’t entirely sure if I would scream or cry, but it would be something and it would be messy. I didn’t want to lose it in front of my family, and I definitely didn’t want to lose it in front of Tiffany. Also, if my mother knew about my close encounter with the police, I wasn’t in the mood for the lecture.
“Becca?” my uncle said softly. “You don’t want to talk to your mother?”
I shook my head without looking at him.
“You were trying to call her before, your aunt said.” Uncle Flip’s soft concern made me want to cry. “Here’s your chance, Bec.”
Picking a thin strand of bone from my fish, I shook my head more committedly.
“You’re sure?” Aunt Libby asked.
I nodded, feeling Tiffany’s cool hand on my arm. I didn’t push it away. When she set her head on my shoulder, I didn’t push that away either.
“Fine,” my aunt clucked, then picked up the entire phone and carried it out the front door. I could hear the timbre of her voice through the screen, but I wasn’t sure what she was saying. All I hoped was that she wouldn’t talk about me.
“You okay?” Tiffany asked, petting my arm.
I couldn’t nod with her head on my shoulder, so I just whispered, “Yeah.”
My throat burned. I wanted to shove food down it, but I knew it would just get stuck and I’d end up hacking fish across the table. Maybe water? Cool water would help my poor swollen throat.
I reached across my plate slowly because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. As soon as my fingers met my glass something weird happened. It cracked where my thumb touched it, and again where my four fingers met the surface. I pulled my hand away just in time. The glass shattered, sending broken shards across the table. My uncle looked up when a piece of glass landed on his plate. I hadn’t seen his eyes blaze like that since the time I flushed the toilet without permission.
“Rebecca!” He sounded more shocked than angry. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I said, hoping to High Heaven he’d believe me. “My glass… I went to pick it up… it just… I don’t know!”
“It just broke on its own,” my brother chimed in. “I saw it.”
“Me too,” Tiffany said. She looked more spooked than any of us. “That was so weird. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”
My uncle gazed slowly between the three of us. My aunt was still outside the door, speaking in hushed tones.
“Let’s clean this up before your aunt gets a load of the mess we’ve made, huh?” Uncle Flip made an attempt to sound chipper. It came out fake, but I couldn’t blame him for trying. “These glasses were your grandmother’s. They’re from the fifties. Can’t get stuff like this anymore.”
“That’s because they’re ugly,” Mikey said, wobbling his glass.
“Yeah, buddy.” Uncle Flip laughed, sounding a little more at ease now. “You can say that again—but not around your aunt.”
The set was decorated with silver and blue rectangles, the kind with rounded edges. They were long out of fashion.
“I still don’t know how it broke,” I said. “I only touched it.”
“You’re a klutz,” my brother teased. “A clumsy klutzy Martina!”
“Shut up!” I smacked the back of my brother’s head while Uncle Flip ushered glass shards to the garbage.
“Don’t hit your brother!” my uncle hollered half-heartedly. “And, Mikey, what did your aunt tell you about toys at the table?”
We all looked to where Uncle Flip was pointing, and when we saw what had taken Aunt Libby’s spot, Tiffany shrieked like a blonde in a horror movie. She flew out of her seat, which was next to my aunt’s, and jumped into my lap. I don’t know how I managed to catch her through my shock. All my muscles locked when I caught sight of Yvette sitting in my aunt’s chair.
“I didn’t put her there,” Mikey stammered. “I didn’t, Uncle Flip. I didn’t bring her to the table.”
“He didn’t,” I said. “He put her in the living room. I saw him do it.”
My uncle looked between Mikey, Tiffany, and me. At first, I saw my own fear reflected in his face. But that only lasted a few seconds. Then he shook it off and said, “A doll isn’t going to move on its own, now, is it?”
Tiffany shook in my arms. “But she did!”
“Do you believe me now?” I barked at my brother. “You shouldn’t have pulled her out of that lake. She’s evil.”
For a second, I thought Mikey would agree with me. Then, just like Uncle Flip, he shook h
is head and said, “No she’s not. She just wants to be at the table with the rest of us. She doesn’t want to be left out. Yvette hates being left out. She told me that before.”
“Left out how?” Tiffany asked, and I was pretty sure I knew what she was getting at.
“Like when people who are her friends do things without her,” my brother said.
Tiffany straightened up a little, and nearly fell off my lap when she did. “You mean like when her friend goes on a trip to town with a different friend, and they don’t bring her along?”
“She didn’t even want to come,” Mikey said, standing up. His voice sounded weird, not like him at all. “Yvette hates you, Tiffany. She doesn’t want to be your friend. She doesn’t even want to be Rebecca’s friend anymore. Only mine. That’s what she said.”
“Enough of this.” Uncle Flip picked up Yvette, and we all gasped, like we thought something really bad was about to happen. “If you kids can’t share, then nobody gets the doll. She’s going back on the shelf.”
He was talking to us like we were all Mikey’s age, and that made me feel itchy inside my chest. But I sure was glad he’d taken Yvette away.
The door hinges squealed, and Aunt Libby stepped inside the cottage. Her eyes went immediately to Tiffany sitting in my lap, clinging to my neck. “Girls! What’s going on?”
Everybody spoke at once. I don’t even know what I was saying—something about Yvette, and how my glass broke and she’d moved from the living room, but Uncle Flip didn’t believe she was evil.
When we finally finished babbling at her, all she said was, “Tiffany, sit on your own chair, please.”
Uncle Flip returned to the table, and we all went quiet again. I didn’t even realize the question was on my mind until I heard myself asking, “Is my mom okay?”
Aunt Libby considered me with sad eyes. “She’s coping, I’d say. It would have been nice to hear her children’s voices.”
I didn’t hear anything after that. My whole head buzzed, and guilt gnawed at the knots in my stomach. I couldn’t seem to decide if I was mad at my mother or if I wanted to console her. With my father, it was easy. I hated him, plain and simple. But my mom? She’d lied to me… but she’d lied because she didn’t want to hurt me. Maybe, if I were in her shoes, I’d have done the same thing.
When dinner was over, Tiffany and I washed and dried the dishes. She talked at me some, but I only half listened. The next thing I remembered hearing was my aunt’s voice as we put on our shoes to leave.
“Rebecca,” My aunt said, casting a knowing glare in my direction. “I think it would be best if you stayed here now that you’re feeling better.”
My heart dropped into my high-tops. “But… I don’t even have a bed here.”
“You can sleep on the couch for one night,” Aunt Libby said. “Tomorrow we’ll find you a bed at the swap meet.”
“But—”
My uncle cut me off. “Listen to your aunt, Bec.”
I knew what they were thinking, but I didn’t know how to tell them not to worry. “Please?”
“Don’t spaz,” Tiffany whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the swap meet, okay?”
My aunt picked up her crocheting and Uncle Flip went back to his book. They seemed to think that if they gave me that little bit of leeway to say goodbye, I’d reward them by obeying their commands.
Nope.
Grabbing Tiffany’s hand, I pulled her out the door. It was only seven-thirty, still brilliantly bright outside. We had the whole night ahead of us.
Chapter 19
“Why didn’t you talk to your mom?” Tiffany asked as she unclasped my overalls.
“I don’t want to think about it.” When I saw the hurt in her eyes, I said, “Sorry. Just, not right now, okay?”
She smiled, and then kissed my lips softly. “What do you want right now? Hmm?”
My heart raced, and I glanced toward the closed bedroom door. Aunt Libby had called the Joneses right after we walked inside. She didn’t ask to speak with me, and I’m not exactly sure what she said to Tiffany’s grandma, but Mrs. Jones didn’t tell me to leave.
Even so, I had this weird fear that my aunt would come bursting through the door the moment I took off my clothes.
“You believe me, don’t you?”
Tiffany held my wrist, denting my skin with the tiger’s eye bracelet. “Believe what, Bec?”
“About Yvette. About the doll.” I looked right into Tiffany’s eyes, and I knew she understood. “She’s evil.”
“I don’t think anyone is purely evil.” Tiffany brushed her fingers over mine, making me shiver. “Anyone or anything. From what you’ve told me, she never acted this way before we met. Maybe she’s just jealous.”
Just jealous? My uncle would think we were both crazy, talking like this. And maybe we were.
“I needed her,” I told Tiffany. “Back when my uncle first gave me Yvette, I didn’t have any friends. I had my family, but I never talk to them about personal stuff. She was there. I guess she was, like, my only friend.”
“And now you have someone else in your life,” Tiffany said. “Someone you care about, and she feels threatened. She feels like you don’t need her anymore.”
Maybe I was channelling Uncle Flip, but I asked, “Do you know how nuts this all sounds? How can she feel anything? She’s not real.” I fell across Tiffany’s bed. “God, what is she?”
“I don’t know.” Tiffany curled in behind me and wrapped one arm around my front. “Maybe the doll is possessed by some kind of ghost or spirit or whatever. Maybe there was an energy floating homeless around the woods exactly when you needed someone to talk to. Maybe she needed to be needed, and she was drawn in by your emotions. Whatever’s so obsessed with you, it’s using the doll as a container, like a body.”
A chill ran through me. “How do I get rid of it?”
Tiffany kissed my neck. Her lips were hot, and her breath warm in my ear when she said, “I really don’t know.”
I slept in Tiffany’s bed that night. It was the first time, for me. I didn’t ask if it was hers, because I had a sinking feeling I’d be disappointed. The last thing I wanted was to become jealous. I’d seen what jealousy had done to Yvette.
My dream had something to do with Tiffany stealing an engagement ring. Maybe I was a little bit awake, because I started wondering why that, why a ring? Who was it for? It seemed unlikely that Tiffany would steal an engagement ring for herself. Some people our age got engaged, even if our parents and our friends told us we were too young. That ring must have been for another girl.
In my half-sleep, I felt something flutter across my cheek and I smiled because I thought it must be Tiffany kissing me sweetly. When I felt it again, I realized it was fabric, maybe the edge of the sheet, on my face. I tried to open my eyes, but I was too tired. And then a strange sensation warmed my wrist. Everywhere my bracelet touched, my skin tingled. I got pins and needles, but only in the places where the tiger’s eye met my flesh.
I felt a strange pressure on my hair, on the back of my head, and I told my eyes to open but they wouldn’t. I told my body to roll over, but it couldn’t. Sleep had me locked in place, stuck there.
Twin beds weren’t easy to share. I was on my side and there was hardly room to turn around, but I gave it my all. My heart was racing, though I didn’t know why. The tiger’s eye sent little blasts of electricity all down my arm. What on earth was happening to me?
I heard a muffled gasp, and I roused enough to whip my head around. Through the misty daze of sleep, I saw something so atrocious I knew I must be dreaming. At the same time, I knew I was most definitely wide awake.
Yvette!
I tried to say her name, but I didn’t make a sound. My voice was trapped somewhere inside me, along with my ability to move. Nevertheless, I knew she heard me. I knew she heard my mind talking to hers when I thought, “Get the hell off my girlfriend!”
Yvette snapped her head around. I wouldn’t have believed it if
I hadn’t seen it happen. Tiffany slept on her back and Yvette stood—one shoe on, one shoe off—on her collarbone. A pillow covered Tiffany’s face, her whole head buried beneath it. Yvette bent at the hips, arms outstretched, holding that fluffy white pillow down. Suffocating the girl I loved.
“Stop it!” I cried, still in my head. I struggled to move, but my limbs were anchored to the mattress. “Stop it, Yvette. You’re going to kill her.”
With a wink, she said, “That’s the plan.”
My heart cried out, but my lips said nothing. There was a new kind of cruelty about Yvette now. I’d been scared of her before, but this was the first time I actually feared for my life. She was a threat, this doll. Whatever my uncle said, she was real.
Tiffany wasn’t moving. In the dark, I couldn’t tell whether her chest rose or fell. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Maybe I’d woken up too late. Maybe Tiffany was already…
“No!” I summoned all my strength, but it wasn’t enough. “Get off!”
All I managed to do was lift my arm a little bit off the bed. It flopped back down uselessly, and I let out a growl. It must have roused something in Tiffany, because suddenly her limbs were flailing. She kicked the covers, whacking me in the back, like she couldn’t control her actions.
Tiffany screamed, and the wretched sound of that cry tore my heart in half. I thought about the bracelet she’d made for me, and what she’d said about the tiger’s eye. It hadn’t done much to protect me, had it? My father was in jail and my doll was trying to commit murder. But maybe that was my fault. Maybe I hadn’t believed enough in its power.
Yvette’s hands made deep imprints in Tiffany’s pillow. How could a doll do this? My uncle was right—it was impossible. But maybe Tiffany was right, too. Maybe Yvette possessed a strength that came from somewhere else, from some unknown entity. I couldn’t explain it, but I also couldn’t fathom how a piece of rock would carry any power. Maybe they could work against each other. I had to try something.
Tiffany’s desperate screeches were muffled by the pillow, but she’d gained some foothold in battle. Her hands were now wrapped around Yvette’s little waist. Tiffany kicked her feet against the mattress, fighting the doll so wildly she knocked me out of bed.
