by Foxglove Lee
I fell to the floor with a thud, but the tumble clearly knocked some sense into me. My muscles came to life and I grabbed Yvette’s face, pulling back on her. Her body was like a stuck lever. No amount of force could get her to budge. She was only porcelain. How could a doll possess such strength?
The tiger’s eye was my only hope. I struggled with the clasp while Tiffany whimpered under the pillow. “It’s all right,” I told her, though my voice was barely a whisper. “It’s okay, Tiff. I know what to do.”
I wrapped my tiger’s eye bracelet around Yvette’s tiny neck. This was going to take every ounce of my strength.
Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I yanked the bracelet as hard as I could. I expected to meet resistance. I was sure I’d need to give it another go. What I didn’t expect was for Yvette to fly over my shoulder and land with a soft thwap against the carpet.
“Oh my God, Tiff, are you okay?” I tore the pillow from her face and she gasped for air, over and over, like she couldn’t get enough. Rolling onto her side, she coughed so much I was sure her grandmother would come running. Maybe I should put some pyjamas on. Our first night sleeping in the same bed, and Tiffany and I were both buck naked.
“Are you okay?” I asked again, kneeling beside her on the bed. I kept glancing over my shoulder, making sure the demon doll hadn’t come back to life. Yvette was still as could be, lying on her back with her arms and leg in the air, like she expected someone to pick her up and give her a hug.
“What happened?” Tiffany wheezed. She had both hands on her neck. “My throat’s full of feathers.”
“It was Yvette,” I said when it suddenly dawned on me that Tiffany might have thought I was the one trying to suffocate her. “Yvette was on top of you. She had the pillow on your face. I couldn’t move. It was… I thought it was a dream. I couldn’t move my muscles until you kicked me out of bed.”
Tiffany started to laugh, but that made her hack even more. “Water?”
“I’ll get you some.”
When I got back from the bathroom, Yvette hadn’t budged, but Tiffany was sitting up in bed, the covers down to her waist. She drank the water down and then pulled up the sheet. “I was dreaming, dreaming I was drowning.”
I remembered my dream, then—about Tiffany stealing an engagement ring, about wondering who it was for. But I didn’t ask. This was hardly the time.
“It was your tiger’s eye that saved the day,” I told her. “You said that it offered protection, so I wrapped it around her neck and that worked. She was too strong until then.”
Tiffany looked up at me. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Wow. Thank God. I mean… thank you.”
I felt a blush coming on. “Do you think the tiger’s eye drove out the spirit, or whatever it was? I mean, look at her now.”
We both gazed at the floor, watching Yvette’s still body in fearful silence. I was sure she would spring to life again. Any minute now…
“What should we do with her?” I asked.
“How should I know?” Tiffany set her water glass on the bedside table. “In gangster movies, they roll dead bodies up in a carpet, then throw them in the lake.”
“You think that works with possessed dolls?”
“What am I, your friendly neighbourhood toy exorcist?” Tiffany slipped out of bed and into a pair of white jeans. She didn’t even put on underwear first. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“No,” I muttered, feeling like a petulant child. “You don’t have to be so mean to me.”
“Whatever!” She tugged on a neon slouch sweater that left one shoulder utterly bare. “I almost died because of your stupid doll, and you’re telling me not to be mean? Get a life, Rebecca.”
My heart sank as Tiffany stared at me with her hands on her hips. A big part of me wanted to cry, but I knew if I curled up against the wall and bit my lip just long enough, the tears would go away.
Tiffany let out an angry roar and stomped out of the room, narrowly missing Yvette. The idea of being alone with my doll made me short of breath, and I hopped off the bed, hissing, “Where are you going?”
“Just get dressed!” Tiffany whispered before disappearing downstairs.
There were clothes all over the floor, but I didn’t want to turn my back on Yvette. I picked up one of Tiffany’s skirts, but I just couldn’t put it on. Even under the direst of circumstances, I couldn’t wear a skirt anymore. So I pulled on a pair of leggings and a mint green T-shirt that went almost all the way down to my knees.
Tiffany crept back up the stairs, quiet as a mouse. She handed me a can of beans and a length of twine. “Here.”
“What’s this for?”
“Tie the tin to her back so she sinks.”
“I thought we were rolling her in a carpet.”
“We’ll do both.” Tiffany forced the tin and twine into my hands. “It’s like… cement shoes.”
“Why can’t you do it?” I tried to hand the stuff back to her, but she wouldn’t take it.
“No way, Jose! I’m not touching that bitch.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“She’s your doll.” Tiffany’s whispers were getting louder and louder. “And she tried to kill me, remember? Just do it!”
I took a deep breath and relented. “Okay, fine.”
Tiffany stood behind me as I knelt beside Yvette. Her eyes had no life in them. None at all. She was just a doll, just pieces of porcelain stitched to a core. She couldn’t hurt me.
Even so, I used a Popsicle stick from Tiffany’s night table to flip her onto her front. “Hold the beans while I tie the knot, okay?”
Tiffany second-guessed herself. “Beans don’t float, do they?”
“Not a can of them!” I just wanted to get this over with. “Hold it while I tie the twine. I’d not rocket science.”
“Fine, I’m doing it.” Tiffany knelt beside me, and her heat was all over my skin.
When Tiffany held the tin end to end and I looped the twine around Yvette’s middle, our arms ended up all twisted. I turned my head once I’d tied about twelve knots. Her lips hovered so close to mine that I couldn’t resist. I kissed her, and she gave in to it completely, pressing her braless breasts against mine so hard I ached.
“What was that?” Tiffany jumped to her feet and tripped over her clothes, falling back on my bed.
“What?” I asked.
“The doll. She moved. I felt her move.”
I looked down at Yvette, but her position hadn’t changed in the least. “You’re crazy, lady.”
“You’re one to talk!” Tiffany kicked a pile of clothes off the rag rug beside her bed. “Here, roll the thing up in this.”
“Don’t call Yvette a thing,” I said, though I wasn’t sure where those words had come from. “Sorry. Okay.”
I tossed the small rug over Yvette’s back and rolled her up fast, trying not to feel her limbs through the fabric. My mind must have been playing tricks on me, because I could have sworn I felt flesh and bones as I bundled up Yvette. I had to steel myself against the unnatural sensation of swaddling a baby with a can of beans.
“Come on.” Tiffany gazed into the darkness. “Let’s get out of here. That doll gives me the creeps.”
As we descended the staircase, I held Yvette in my arms like a baby. Words echoed in the back of my head: no, please, don’t. I tried my damnedest to ignore them, but they only got louder as my heart beat wildly in my ears.
“Shut up,” I hissed as Tiffany opened the squeaky front door. The bells jingled overhead.
“I’m trying,” Tiffany whispered back. “You think you could do any better?”
Of course, I hadn’t been talking to Tiffany. I’d been talking to the voices in my head, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
When we snuck into the night, the payphone caught my eye. I thought about the evening I’d come here to call my mom, back before I knew what was going on with my dad. That felt like ages ago.
So much had happened since w
e’d come the cottage: I’d met Tiffany and fallen for her. Yvette had become jealous and destructive. I’d nearly been arrested. My aunt realized I was a lesbian. I’d found out my dad had done this horrendous thing and he would spend the next fourteen years in jail. And, to top it off, my uncle thought I was insane. This life would have been overwhelming even for an adult, and somehow I was coping. I don’t think anyone would have blamed me if I’d had a complete mental breakdown.
“I don’t want to hold her anymore.” I tried handing Yvette to Tiffany.
She ran ahead. “No way I’m touching that thing.”
I ran behind her, all the way down the hill, wishing I’d taken the time to put on my high-tops instead of slipping on a pair of Tiffany’s flip-flops. When we got down to the water, I saw fire burning in the pit. All I could make out were huddled masses, but I knew they were the boys who’d called me ugly before.
“Hey, it’s the lezzies!” a voice called out.
“Ignore them, Bec.” Tiffany grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the marina.
Icy fear streamed through my veins. I was scared of the boys to begin with, but the night felt that much darker when one of them hollered, “Come here, Tiffy. I got your cure right here. But I gotta warn you, it’s a big pill to swallow.”
Their laughter cut me like a knife, but Tiffany yelled, “As if your drunken dick could get it up!”
We didn’t stick around to debate the issue. Tiffany must have been as scared as I was, because she pulled me around the back of the marina.
“Do you think they’ll follow us?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She looked flustered as she untied a paddleboat from its mooring. “What are you waiting for? Get the hell in!”
“Whose is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Does it matter? We need it.”
True enough. There was an unspoken rule in the cottage community that you didn’t run noisy things after dark, when the older people and younger children were likely to be sleeping. That meant we couldn’t ride out in the Jones’s craft.
I stepped into the paddleboat and Tiffany stepped across the front, rocking us wildly as she jumped into the seat. We paddled backwards to get out of the mooring, then charted the moon’s path through black water. It was just like riding a bicycle.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the island, I was thinking. That’s where Mikey found Yvette. That’s where we should leave her.”
“No.” I looked at the bundle in my lap and shivered. “No, I want to drown her where the water’s deep. I never want to see this doll again.”
Bitch!
The word screamed through my mind, hot like a brand. I could see the fear in Tiffany’s eyes, but I asked anyway. “Did you hear that?”
She nodded her head. “Bitch.”
I wanted to cry. “What is this thing? Why is she doing this to me? Everyone thinks I’m crazy, and sometimes even I’m not sure. Maybe I am crazy.”
“No.” Tiffany set her hand on my thigh and rubbed it gently. “You’re not. Trust me, you’re not.”
I bit my lip as we paddled across the dark lake. The fire pit boys hadn’t followed us, thank goodness. I’d need more than just tiger’s eye to protect myself from that lot. Then it occurred to me: my bracelet was still wrapped around Yvette’s neck. That was no good. It was the only thing Tiffany had ever given me, and I didn’t want to dump it to the bottom of the lake. At the same time, I was too scared to unroll the rag rug. I had this crazy fear that Yvette had turned into something gross, like a giant cockroach that would spew green slime at me the second I unwrapped it.
Holding my doll by her wrapped-up legs, I turned her upside-down and started shaking. When I stopped paddling, Tiffany glanced over and gave me a weird look. “What are you doing?”
“The bracelet you gave me is in here.”
“Forget it,” she said. “I’ll make you a new one.”
I didn’t want to argue with Tiffany, but I also couldn’t bring myself to let something she’d made sink in the lake. I kept shaking Yvette until the bracelet fell to the bottom of the boat. “There. Got it.”
Tiffany stopped paddling. “This is a good spot. Throw her in.”
The lake gleamed like a black mirror. It didn’t look like water at all. It looked like if you dropped something down, it would just sit there on the surface.
“What are you waiting for?” Tiffany asked. “That thing tried to kill me!”
She was right. This was no time to get sentimental. If I didn’t toss Yvette overboard, no telling what the doll might do.
“I’m sorry,” I said, forming the words with my lips, not producing any sound. “Bye-bye, Yvette.”
The bundle jostled and jerked, like a cat trying to escape a child’s grip. Tiffany must have seen it, because she screamed even before I did.
Chapter 20
“Throw her overboard!” Tiffany hollered.
By the time those words had left her lips I was already tossing Yvette from the boat. If only I’d played baseball in school maybe I’d have managed a better throw. The bundle met the water with a comical plop. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been scared out of my skin.
We sat in silence, staring at the spot on the lake where Yvette had gone down. It didn’t feel real that she was gone. I kept looking at my lap, expecting the bundle to be there. But it wasn’t. Yvette had sunk to the bottom of the lake, just like any other household item would have. She was no better than a bathtub or an old boot. And she was gone.
“What now?” Tiffany asked.
“Search me.”
“Should be go back to the cottage?” She didn’t wink, or even smile. “Back to bed?”
In truth, I was scared. Not so much of sleeping, or being with Tiffany, or anything like that. It was a combination of fears: I was scared of the boys back on land, and I was scared that Yvette would return.
“Can we go to the patch?” I said, like a kid asking her mom for ice cream.
I expected Tiffany to ask why, but she didn’t. She just set a course for the island, and we paddled in silence. There was grief on the air, and guilt. I’m sure we both felt it. Even if Tiffany didn’t, I sure felt guilty. I felt like I’d murdered someone, just like my father.
We moored the paddleboat to a pole someone had jammed in the sand. When we stepped over the sides, we both got our feet and the bottoms of our pants wet, but neither of us reacted. Some things just didn’t matter right now.
Tiffany sat on the same log where we’d been when Mikey pulled Yvette from the water. I had a moment of déjà vu as I watched her fold her knees against her chest and hug her legs tight.
“You gonna sit?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “Dunno.”
She gazed across the lake, and I gazed at her. I felt unreasonably sad, and Tiffany looked like she felt the same way. We should have been happy. We’d just destroyed our foe. We were like a pair of knights slaying the dragon.
“Why’d you steal an engagement ring?”
Tiffany looked up at me, eyes wide. She seemed stunned, or confused. Something. Then she scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“You said that’s when you really got in trouble—when you stole an engagement ring.”
She set her chin on her knees and stared across the lake, where the boys’ pit fire burned bright.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
That question was hard to answer. It seemed important, but I couldn’t articulate why. I stared at her white jeans, which were darker where they’d gotten wet.
“Were you gonna give it to someone?” I asked.
“No.” She really barked that word at me.
I kicked the sand and it got between my bare toes. “I thought maybe you had a girlfriend and you wanted to get engaged or something.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Women can’t marry each ot
her.”
“Yeah, but I’ve heard of gay people having, like, commitment ceremonies or whatever. And wearing rings. It’s just to show the world that you love someone and you’re faithful to them.”
“I didn’t steal it for a girl, okay?” Tiffany bit her lip, like she was trying not to cry. “Well, I guess I did. I stole it for me.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed her, and I definitely didn’t know what to say. “That’s weird.”
Tiffany’s head fell to her knees, and I could hear her crying but I didn’t know how to react. I was no good with crying people. They made me uncomfortable.
But this wasn’t “people,” this was Tiffany, and it hurt my heart that she was so sad and I didn’t know why. I sat beside her on the stone bed and put my arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Tiff? What did I say?”
“Nothing.” When she raised her head, her eyes were puffy and red. “It’s not you. I’m just so stupid. I mean, I am super-duper, one hundred percent Grade A stupid.”
“No you’re not. Why would you think that?”
She let out a whimper, and then groaned. “Because of Mark.”
Something inside of me froze, just like the time she’d said Wayne Gretzky was hot. My stomach felt weird, like it was full of worms and snakes and other slithery things. I took my arm back and hugged myself just like she was doing.
“Who is Mark?” I asked.
“A guy.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I sounded so mean, and I couldn’t control it. “What guy? Was he your boyfriend?”
I felt like I was going to throw up, saying those words. My nausea just got worse when she didn’t answer.
“Was he?”
“No,” she said, like a sob. “I wanted him to be, okay? I wanted to marry him, but he wouldn’t… he would even talk about it. I mean, there was totally something between us. The way he looked at me, right? He wanted me. Of course he did. But…”
I didn’t understand any of this. “If he wanted you, don’t you think he would have, like, done something about it?”
