Free What a Doll! by P.J. Night

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!
    â€œPerhaps, Emmy, you are feeling a bit of schadenfreude,” her mom added.
    â€œShaden-what?” Sam asked. His face wrinkled into a mask of confusion.
    â€œSchadenfreude,” 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?”
    â€œI get it,” Sam said. “So Emmy has schadenfreude?”
    â€œI’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.
    â€œWhy don’t you excuse yourself, Emmy?” her mom suggested.
    Emmy could barely get the words out. “May I be excused?”
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œHi,” Lizzy said softly.
    Emmy’s heart skipped a beat. Lizzy looked so sad and horrible.
    â€œHi,” 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