Free The Dollhouse by Fiona Davis

she was dreading the upcoming weekend, when she had nothing at all to do. If she sat inside her room the entire time, she’d go mad, she was sure of that.
    Esme nodded in the direction of the dining room. “You miss dinner?”
    â€œI did. So busy with homework.”
    â€œDo you want me to get you a roll or something?”
    Darby clutched at her stomach. “Would you? I’m starving. Could you do that without getting into trouble?”
    â€œI’ll meet you up in your room. Be there in ten.”
    As promised, Esme showed up with several slices of bread tucked into her laundry basket, along with a small jar of raspberry jelly and a knife.
    â€œOh, this is wonderful, thank you! Do you want some?”
    â€œNo, I’ll just fold some sheets here while you dine, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œGo ahead.” Darby sat at her desk and slathered the jam on the bread. “May I ask about your audition?”
    Esme gave her a wide smile. “It was great. I had it yesterday, and they’ll let me know in a week or so.”
    â€œTell me, what was it like? Were you nervous?”
    â€œI’m never nervous. I think they were, though. The minute I opened my mouth, you could see they weren’t expecting a Puerto Rican to apply to their fancy academy. All the other people auditioning talked right. But I did my speech and the judges flipped.”
    â€œI’m so excited for you. I couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. What courage you have.”
    â€œCourage is easy when the other choices are folding sheets and dealing with guests all day. When you want to get out of a situation fast, you get courage.”
    â€œIt must be difficult, dealing with so many girls.”
    â€œIt’s a dirty, nasty job. But to make up for it, I do something beautiful at night.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œIf you like, I’ll show you. Come out with me. I finish at nine thirty.”
    â€œI couldn’t. I’d miss curfew.”
    â€œYou can easily sneak in the back way. I’ll show you how.”
    â€œThat’s awfully late, isn’t it?”
    â€œDid you have other plans?” asked Esme.
    Darby swallowed and tore off another piece of bread. “Not really.”
    â€œHave you been out since last weekend?”
    She hated to admit she hadn’t. It had taken all her energy to get to school and back each day, and although the other girls in her classes were friendly enough, she’d been too skittish to try in earnest.
    Esme didn’t give her a chance to respond. “C’mon, Darby, live a little. Come out with me tonight. I’ll meet you outside. Don’t be late.” She walked over to Darby’s small closet and opened it, pulling out the black brocade dress she’d last worn at Daddy’s funeral. “And wear this.”
    When Darby walked out of the Barbizon at nine thirty on the dot, Esme ran toward her, squealing. She’d changed into a bright red taffeta dress with a delicate scalloped trim around the neckline. Her hair, unleashed from its updo, fell in gentle curls around her head. She looked more fashionable than any of the girls on Darby’s floor.
    As the cab ventured into the East Village, the street scene changed. The buildings were no higher than six stories, the sidewalks dirty with cigarette butts and crumpled newspapers. Darby almost gagged at the smell of urine as she stepped out of the taxi, but she followed Esme along a narrow alleyway between two buildings to a tiny, treeless courtyard at the back of the one of the tenements.
    Esme smiled up at a black man smoking a cigarette outside a doorway and dragged Darby into the darkness.
    â€œWhere are we going? How do you know where to go?” Darby asked.
    â€œI work here some nights as a hatcheck girl. Good tips, and it’s a wild scene.”
    â€œWhat is it, exactly?”
    â€œThe Flatted Fifth. A jazz club. All the greats come