What a Doll! (9 page)

CHAPTER 9

As she got dressed for school the next morning, Emmy caught the doll on her desk out of the corner of her eye. She remembered the haircut she had given it, but she had already forgotten just how far she had gone. Had she really chopped all the doll's hair off, and would that mean what she thought it would mean for Lizzy?

Oh, wow,
she thought as she looked more closely at the uneven threads of yarn sticking out of the doll's scalp.

At lunchtime, as Emmy had predicted, Lizzy sat at her new spot alone in the cafeteria, her head covered in a big winter hat. Even from far away, Emmy could see that her food was spread on the table in front of her but she wasn't eating. She was just staring into space. She could also tell from far away that there was no hair poking out from under her hat. Emmy wanted to eavesdrop on Sophie and Cadence, who were deep in conversation at their usual table, so she pretended that she needed ketchup and got up to walk slowly past their table.

“I have no idea,” Sophie was saying. “How can I even guess at the reasons she does what she does? She must have whacked out again, like she did at her sleepover.”

“Well, we should go over there and see,” Cadence replied. Emmy got her ketchup and went back to her table. She nibbled her grilled cheese and fries as she watched Sophie and Cadence approach Lizzy's table. Lizzy looked like she wanted to hide but was cornered, literally, in the cafeteria. Sophie and Cadence stood close to Lizzy. At first it looked like they were interrogating her and Lizzy wasn't answering. Then it looked like they were trying to grab the hat off of Lizzy's head, while Lizzy had her hands on it as if she was holding on for dear life. It was like watching television with the sound muted. Emmy wished she were sitting closer. Still, she had a pretty good view, just like she had a view into Lizzy's room from her own bedroom at home.

So when Cadence forcefully tugged the hat off Lizzy's head, Emmy could clearly see what was underneath.

A whacked-out mess.

Lizzy's hair was all short, but some pieces were longer than others, giving the impression that her hair was sprouting in unimaginable ways.

Emmy watched Sophie and Cadence put their hands to their mouths in disbelief. She also saw half the lunchroom do the same as they slowly noticed the scene in the corner. Lizzy looked the way Emmy felt in that dream she sometimes had where she wasn't wearing any clothes in public. Exposed. Mortified. Lizzy saw Emmy staring and, for a moment, the two held each other's gaze.
You're finally getting what you deserve,
Emmy thought.
You deserve to be friendless.

Then Emmy looked away.

For the rest of the day Emmy noticed that no one talked to Lizzy. They just pointed and laughed. She kept the hat on, but it was too late. Everyone had seen what was underneath. A whole lot of nothing with a little bit of crazy.

At the dinner table that night, Emmy was in an especially good mood. She stabbed happily at her salad with her fork as she and her parents listened to Sam describe the high and low of his day. His high was getting to be the line leader at recess, and his low was that his team lost a dodgeball game. Pretty different from Emmy's day.
Sam's life is so simple,
Emmy thought, putting aside her good mood for a second and hating him a little. She remembered when her life was that simple.

“How about you, Emmy?” her dad asked her when Sam had finished. Emmy stayed silent. She wasn't exactly eager to report to her family that the high point of her day was the unveiling of Lizzy's hair and her subsequent humiliation in front of the entire school. But it was true.

And now Emmy's mom was looking at her in a way that let Emmy know that she knew about Lizzy's hair. She must have talked to Lizzy's mom. Emmy felt a small stab of guilt. But of course, there was no way she could ever be blamed for the haircut, if you could even call it a haircut. Emmy remained silent.

“Well, there's an elephant in the room, it seems,” her mom said.

“What are you talking about?” Sam said. “What elephant?”

“That means there's something that no one wants to talk about, but it's obviously there,” Emmy's dad explained patiently to Sam. “Right, Emmy?”

“I guess,” Emmy said, now pushing her salad around her plate with her fork. She felt her parents' eyes on her as she looked down at her plate.

“Well, I talked to Marilyn on the phone today,” Emmy's mom said. “What on earth do you think made Lizzy want to do that to her hair?”

Emmy started to respond when she suddenly began laughing uncontrollably. Her parents frowned. But she couldn't stop. There was an edge of hysteria to her laughter, and her eyes were starting to tear.

Her mom sighed. “I understand you feel hurt by the way Lizzy has been treating you lately, honey,” she said. “But Marilyn said Lizzy's day was just horrible. She said everyone at school made fun of her and the teasing just wouldn't stop. She's been in her room crying all afternoon. I just can't imagine what she was thinking, cutting off all her pretty hair.”

Her dad cleared his throat. “I'm very sorry to hear about Lizzy,” he pointed out. “But, Emmy, I know you've been having a hard time too. Lizzy hasn't exactly been a good friend to you lately.” Finally, a little understanding!

“Perhaps, Emmy, you are feeling a bit of schadenfreude,” her mom added.

“Shaden-what?” Sam asked. His face wrinkled into a mask of confusion.

“Schadenfreude,” Emmy's mom said. “
Sha-din-froy-duh.
It's a German word. It means taking pleasure in the misfortunes of others. Suppose one day in school someone trips you just to be mean. Then later that day he gets hurt on the playground. You might feel just a little bit glad that something bad happened to him, right?”

“I get it,” Sam said. “So Emmy has schadenfreude?”

“I'm afraid so,” her dad said. “It's not a feeling most of us would admit to, but it exists.”

But even through the seriousness of the conversation, and the genuine understanding of her parents, Emmy couldn't stop laughing. Finally, her parents started to seem a little annoyed.

“Why don't you excuse yourself, Emmy?” her mom suggested.

Emmy could barely get the words out. “May I be excused?”

“You certainly may,” her mom said.

Emmy brought her plate to the sink and walked upstairs to her room. She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
It's not schadenfreude,
she thought.
I'm just plain happy that I have the power to do this to Lizzy. And I don't need a big German word to describe it.
It was that simple.

Before breakfast, Emmy marched straight into her parents' bathroom, took her mom's makeup bag, brought it into her room, and locked the door.
Who knows why I'm locking the door,
she thought.
It's not like anyone knows anything about the doll.

Emmy sat at her desk and stared at the doll.
What a doll.
Emmy had never felt this powerful. She imagined this is what witches must feel like. Schadenfreude or not, it felt amazing.

Lizzy's still pretty, even with her crazy hair, but I can fix that too,
she thought.

Slowly, deliberately, Emmy put a smear of bright red lipstick on the doll's mouth. The doll was so small that the lipstick smudge was huge in comparison. Then she grabbed black eyeliner and outlined the doll's eyes. She followed up with blue eye shadow and blush, all applied clumsily because of how tiny the doll's face was. She examined her work. The only way to describe the way the doll looked now was clownish.

Emmy walked to school that morning with an extra spring in her step, knowing for sure what she'd see when she got there. And she was right.

Lizzy sat alone on the steps near the entrance to the school building. She looked like she'd been crying. But that wasn't the first thing that a person would notice about her. Her makeup looked as if a little kid had applied it. It looked utterly ridiculous. Combined with her winter hat, she looked bizarre. She stared at the ground as other kids stared at her. Some kids pointed, others whispered, others laughed.

One boy called out, “Hey, it's a crazy clown!”

Emmy walked right by Lizzy, trying not to stare, but unable not to. Lizzy looked up and their eyes met.

“Hi,” Lizzy said softly.

Emmy's heart skipped a beat. Lizzy looked so sad and horrible.

“Hi,” she muttered as she walked quickly past. Her chest tightened and she felt anxious. She had to get to her locker, and she felt like she had to get away from Lizzy.

As she spun the dial to unlock her locker, Emmy felt two distinctly different feelings wash over her.

The first was shame.
It was a terrible thing I did,
she thought.
Make that
things
I did. Did I really have to be so evil this morning? The sleepover and the hair were bad enough.

The second was relief.
Lizzy's not popular anymore. Lizzy and I can be best friends again.
As the morning went on and she sat in her classes, Emmy imagined her reunion with Lizzy. She'd go to her table at lunch and sit with her—no one else would be sitting with her, she was sure of that.

At lunch, Emmy took a deep breath, carried her tray over to Lizzy's table, and sat across from her.

“Hey,” she said, not looking at Lizzy.

“Hey,” Lizzy said softly. She kept her eyes on the table. Her voice seemed hoarse. Maybe from crying.

“How are you?” Emmy asked. She didn't know what else to say.

“Are you serious?” Lizzy asked. But she didn't sound angry. She looked up and they finally made eye contact. “I'm kind of a mess, if you haven't noticed.”

“I guess I did. A little,” Emmy said. They sat in silence for a minute.

“I'm sorry everything is so awful right now,” Emmy said. She really didn't know what else to say. But she did mean it—pretty much, anyway. Lizzy looked up.

“I'm really sorry about everything,” Lizzy said softly, not looking at Emmy.

Emmy swallowed hard and stayed silent. She wanted to make up, but part of her had to admit it felt good having the upper hand like this. She was basically rescuing Lizzy from a friendless existence, after all.

“What do you mean, ‘everything'?” she pressed.

“I mean, I'm sorry for being such a bad friend,” Lizzy said. “I'm sorry I've been kind of ditching you this year.”

“What else are you sorry for?” Emmy had to hear her say it.

“I'm sorry for cutting your hair short. Now I know how you felt. It wasn't right of me to do something you didn't want. But at least yours is longer than mine,” she added.

“Thanks,” Emmy said. “I'm sorry you're having such a hard time.”

Lizzy smiled sheepishly.

Emmy realized there was one thing she really wanted to ask Lizzy. It was something she truly did not know the answer to. “Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Sure,” Lizzy said. “Ask me anything. I couldn't be more embarrassed than I already am.”

“What were you thinking, cutting your hair in that way and putting on all this makeup?” Emmy asked. “Like, how did this happen?”

Lizzy sighed. “I don't know,” she muttered. “Both times, I just got into a really weird mood. Like, I wasn't in control of myself. Both the haircut and the makeup seemed like perfectly good ideas at the time. But both times, when I was finished, I wondered what had come over me. And now I'm afraid I'm going crazy,” Lizzy whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“You're not going crazy,” Emmy assured her. “You just got into a weird mood. Everyone gets into weird moods sometimes.”

“I wish I could just wash this makeup off,” Lizzy moaned. “But I've scrubbed and scrubbed and hardly any has come off.”

Emmy made a mental note to wash the doll's face the first chance she got. It was time to end this, and she had another great idea for how to do that. “I know what you need to make you feel better,” she said to Lizzy. “A sleepover at my house this weekend. What do you think?”