Free Broken Dolls by Tyrolin Puxty Page A

beautiful at the ballet…”

    Gabby was wrong. Nothing was beautiful at the ballet. It was better than that.
    Graceful men lifted lovely girls in white, and princes swooned over their swans. Whenever a ballerina raised her arms, someone was always there to catch her.
    The live music was so much better than the deteriorating TV speakers. The orchestra was like a romantic radioactive wave that wafted through the theater, sending ripples of emotion through the audience.
    The dancers’ technique was flawless, impeccable,
perfect
. I loved how their eyes glistened when the audience cheered. I envied their heaving chests as they posed during the applause. I wanted the exquisitely crafted costumes that pressed into their flesh.
They
have a life.
    I put my hand to my mouth and sob. This time, not because I’m happy. I’m crying because of fury, envy…
hatred
. I don’t want to tear my gaze away from the beauty, but I can’t bear to watch a life that isn’t mine.
    Tears run down my cheeks as I curl into a small ball in the purse. Gabby prods my side, but I cover my face with my good hand. I’m beyond words.
    “Grandpa, I have to use the bathroom,” Gabby whispers.
    “Oh!” The professor sounds shocked. “Should I come with you?”
    “No, no, it’s fine. You enjoy!”
    The track feels like an eternity. I don’t notice or care where we’re going. It’s only when Gabby clamps her hand around my waist and sits me on top of the sink in a room filled with cubicles and glaring white tiles that I calm down.
    “What’s going on?” Her voice is exasperated. She leans on one leg, her arms rested crossly on her hips. “I thought you would like this!”
    I sniff, too ashamed to look her in the eye. I fiddle with my stump (man, I wish I knew where my hand was) and kick my dress as I swing my legs.
    “I don’t want to be this way anymore, Gabby,” I mumble. “I always imagined being human again, but I never realized how much I despised being a doll. I always thought it was cool that I never felt pain or aged, but since meeting you… Gabby, I’m not living. I’m dead. What if I
am
dead? Maybe, Lisa is doing me a favor by trying to kill me! I can’t go on like this!”
    “Whoa, ease up!” Gabby swipes at my cheeks with her thumb. “When I said I wasn’t going to waste any more time on tears, I didn’t just mean my own. Ella, you’re immortal. Do you know how much I wish I could be like you? I have a week to live, and here you’re complaining that your life isn’t perfect!”
    I bite my bottom lip and nod slowly. “Gabby, I’m so sorry.”
    “Don’t be sorry.” She lifts me from the sink and lowers me into her purse. “Just be grateful.”
    I stare at her from the purse, a warm feeling pulsating in my chest. She really cares about me; maybe about as much as I care about her. “I
am
grateful,” I say softly. “Gabby? I know this sounds weird, considering we haven’t known each other for long… and I’m really sorry for saying this… but, I, um… I…”
    “I love you, too.” Gabby lifts her purse to kiss my head.
    I can’t stop grinning. For some illogical reason, I now feel like I can take on the world.

    Is it possible to watch something without ever really seeing it? Because that’s what happened when I tried to watch the remainder of the ballet. I was too busy gathering old memories from my human life. Well, truth be told, I was only making them up. I liked the concept of horse-riding and gymnastics, but I’m not sure why.
    I applauded half-heartedly when the dancers bowed and smiled nostalgically at the drawn curtain. My first and last visit to the ballet hadn’t been the soiree I envisioned, but it probably beat sitting alone in a plastic box avoiding Lisa.
    “Hey! It’s Libby!” Gabby says when we reach our car. I peek through the opening in the purse and sure enough, Libby’s beaming four cars down.
    “I don’t see you for months, and now you can’t get rid of me!” Libby blows