Free Broken Dolls by Tyrolin Puxty Page B

Gabby a kiss. “Good luck, bud. See ya on the other side.”
    Gabby doesn’t reply, she only waves and throws herself in the backseat of the car.
    The professor turns the on the ignition, muffling the outside voices. “What did you think, Gabrielle? Did you enjoy yourself?”
    Gabby pauses, tightening her lips. “I loved it.”
    “I’m glad, sweetheart.” He reverses out of the parking space. We drive for the length of two modern contemporary songs playing on the radio, before the professor takes a deep breath. “I liked your friend.” His voice is higher than usual, and he sniffs after he speaks.
    Gabby exchanges a worried look with me and tents her fingers in her lap. “I know.”



he floorboards beneath the carpet creak as Gabby climbs the stairs. She’s clutching her handbag and keeping it close to her heart, her eyes darting from the attic door to me.
    “I’m going upstairs to say goodnight to Ella,” Gabby calls to the professor.
    “Hey!” I hiss from the purse. “Why’d you say that?”
    “What?” She breathes. “He’s going to hear me go into the attic anyway and wonder what I’m doing!”
    “But now he’ll come running up here!”
    On cue, hurried footsteps follow us upstairs. “No! She’s probably asleep! Don’t disturb her!”
    “Run!”
    I position myself in the purse to avoid the pending earthquake. Gabby bolts for the door, jiggling the handle until it unlatches. The door swings closed behind her, and she crashes into a box in the dark. She grunts and hops through the pain until she reaches the chest. She drops me onto my bed and kneels beside the chest, breathing heavily through her nose. “Get in the bed! He’ll see your dress! Hide!”
    Of course! I dive under the covers and nuzzle into the pillow, attempting to look dazed by my alleged interrupted sleep.
    “Gabrielle!” The professor trips over the same fallen box. His hair is crazed, wild, and his words run into one another. “What are you doing? Why did you close the door?”
    Gabby places a tender finger to her lips and points to me.
    “Shh. You’ll wake Ella. You’re right, Grandpa, I should’ve let her sleep. Let’s go to bed.” Gabby clears her throat and stands on tiptoes to kiss the professor’s cheek.
    She leaves the attic, and the professor remains confused and motionless, swaying above the chest. I stare up at him from my bed, only now noticing his change of attire. I’m so accustomed to seeing him in drab clothes that I almost don’t recognize him in his collared shirt and dress pants. He looks quite presentable–handsome, almost.
    When he looks down at me, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. He doesn’t bother to kiss me goodnight like he usually does.
    He knows…



fold the dress Gabby gave me into a neat square on the end of the bed and slip back into my leotard. My tutu is still caught on the chair where Lisa tried to track me down, and I don’t really want to leave the safety of the chest to retrieve it.
    It’s actually kind of boring alone in the chest. I’ve never really spent that much time in it. I always have free reign of the attic to watch TV, paint, and look through the window. In here, there’s literally nothing to do but pull faces in the mirror. Even then, my plastic skin can’t do much. I’ve mastered raising one eyebrow at a time, but that’s the extent of my facial versatility.
    “It must be horrible only having one hand.”
    I feel like I’ve just been thrown into an icy lake. I remain stiff on the bed, unable to glance over my shoulder. “I found it for you.” The voice is kind, soft…
fake
.
    I place my hand on my chest when a tiny drum pounds from the inside. My heart is beating… “How?” I ask breathlessly, my pulse racing.
    “Before the professor put the plastic box over the chest, I came in and hid under the bed.” Lisa crawls over the covers to sit next to me. “I needed to talk to you. Did you have fun at the ballet?”
    “No,” I reply, only