Barbie World (Baby Doll Series) Page 4

  “Mom, Dylan is getting that weird look again,” Emmy calls out. I push the bowl of ice cream towards her and then slide one across for Everett. “You know, you are a tattle tale.”

  She takes a big bite of ice cream. “Mom, Dylan called me a tattle tale.”

  Mom hangs up the phone and walks into the kitchen. “Emmy, what did I tell you about tattle tailing?” my mom asks, giving her a stern look.

  “I don’t think I remember.” She sticks her tongue between the gap in her mouth and scrunches up her little face like she is trying to think really hard about it.

  I hop up on the counter and take a bite of ice cream and watch the interaction between my mother and Emmy. Everett is listening, too.

  “What are the questions you are supposed to ask yourself before tattling?” she tries again.

  “Am I hurt? Is someone else hurt? Is what I am saying helpful?” Emmy ticks off the questions.

  “Good. Now, is what you were about to say important?” my mother asks.

  “Yes, mommy, I think Dylan might have been having a heart attic!” she says.

  “A heart attack,” my mother corrects her

  “Yeah, one of those. His eyes went like this”—she blinks rapidly—”and his mouth was going like this”—she puckers her lips out, making a kissing face. “Or maybe he was thinking about being in love with Bar-bie.”

  I roll my eyes and flick a piece of ice cream at her, it lands on her cheek and before my mother can scold me Everett squeals in delight. We turn to him, soaking in the rare moment when he shows emotion. My mother grabs a napkin and cleans off her face.

  “Okay, it is time for bed. I will be up to say good night in a little bit. Take Everett with you.” My mom sends Emmy out of the kitchen. “So, you want tell me what’s going, and why Emmy thinks you are having a heart attack?” My mom starts to wash out the bowls. That little stinker; wait until she gets a boyfriend. It is going to be payback time.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, knowing damn well what she means.

  “You and Barbie. You walk around here like a lovesick zombie and she is avoiding you like the plague. I am not blind, Dylan. I can tell something is going on between the two of you.” She looks at me with her freaky, know-it-all-mom eyes.

  I tilt my head back, letting it rest behind me on the cupboard. “She is still ticked at me for telling you and Dr. Grant what happened with her mom’s boyfriend.” I sigh.

  “You did the right thing, Dylan. If you didn’t say anything, her mother would have gotten away with continuing to abuse them.” She sighs, putting the rag on the counter next to me. “She knows you didn’t have a choice. She will come around. Now, what about the whole zombie-taking-over-my-son’s-body?”

  I shake my head. “I know where Emmy gets her dramatics from. Nothing, Mom. I guess I am just thinking about Katie.”

  She looks at me for a moment. “Hmm… She is a little intense, that girl.” No joke; Katie is a little intense. “Are you two being careful?” I smack the back of my head on the cupboard, hoping to knock myself out and avoid one of Mom’s famous talk-to-your-teen discussions.

  “Mom, you don’t have anything to worry about,” I reassure her.

  “Okay, just remember that I am too young to be a grandmother, and despite what the other kids are saying, Chlamydia is not fun.”

  I shake my head. “Mom who says that?”

  She shrugs. “Just remember if you are going to use it, wrap it or lose it!”

  I jump down. “Got it, Mom. Thanks!” She smiles, confident that she has scared me from partaking in any sexual activities. “I have to go meet Katie in a little bit,” I say, hoping my mother will tell me she wants me to stay in for the night.

  “Have fun and be home by curfew,” she sings. The phone rings and she runs to go get it, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which are dangerously close to wandering away. I should go talk to Barbie. I pace the kitchen back and forth, contemplating on going up to her room or not. Stupidity wins.

  I hesitate by Barbie’s door, still debating on whether I should knock and beg her for forgiveness or leave well enough alone by going back to my new room in the dungeon. I put my hand to the door, ready to knock, she is so close, but before I can, my phone chirps, so I pull it out of my pocket to silence it before it gives my lurking away, and read the text.

  KATIE: Hey baby be there in a few.

  ME: K

  KATIE: I miss u

  KATIE: Cannot wait 2 C U! <3 <3 :)

  KATIE: I <3 U

  I stuff the phone back into my pocket and knock on the door. Nothing. I try again.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I tap quietly. I don’t know what I am going to say, but I know I have to say something. I cannot leave things between us the way they are. I press my ear to the door, listening for a sign that she has heard me. Nothing. I crack the door open; her room is pitch black. Perhaps she went to sleep.

  “Barbie, are you awake?” I whisper between the slit of her door. She doesn’t respond so I stick my head in all the way. Her bed is empty, the only sign she was here is the open window and a warm breeze that blows the pale pink curtains. She is gone.

  “Dylan, what are you doing?” my mother’s voice is sharp, causing me to jump. Crap. I quickly shut the bedroom door behind me.

  “I was just seeing if Barbie wanted any ice cream.” I keep one hand on the doorknob, my body blocking the doorframe.

  “Well?” She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, squinting up at me.

  “Well… uh… what?” I stammer.

  “Well, what does she want, chocolate are vanilla?”

  “Umm…”

  She steps closer to me, trying to see what I’m hiding with her freaky Mom ESP. “Maybe I will just ask her myself since you can’t seem to remember.” She tries to step around me, however I don’t move. She stares me down and it is all I have not to look away. Instead, I stare back blankly.

  “She doesn’t want any because she’s sleeping,” I finally say.

  She looks me up and down, accusingly, and hmphs. “Fine.”

  She picks up a few discarded toys on the top stairs then glares at me again. I’m holding my breath. I don’t know what she is capable of doing if she finds out Barbie defied one of her rules. I have never disobeyed her on such a level. “Don’t just lurk by her door, Dylan. It’s creepy.”

  I exhale. “Okay.” I still stand protectively by the door.

  She straightens up, her arms full of toys. “Dylan!” She nods towards the stairs. “Go. Katie is here in the kitchen with your dad. You better go and save her from one of his stories.”

  I nod and reluctantly leave my protective post. I glance over at my mother to make sure she doesn’t go in the room, tripping on the bottom stairs.

  “Whoa, there. Left foot then right.” My dad chuckles. “See what you girls do to us men, Katie.” He laughs at himself again while Katie politely laughs at my father’s lame attempt at a joke.

  I walk over to Katie and give her a hug. She looks classic in a jean jacket, a white camisole and jean skirt. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with a black head band in it. I guess we are going out.

  “Hey, baby.” Katie jumps up and gives me a hug.

  “Hey.” I hug her back.

  “Ah, young love. It is such a fickle thing; here one moment, gone the next,” my dad says. I give him a knowing smile because perhaps he is not as clueless as he likes to pretend.

  Katie ignores my father. “You are not going to wear that are you?” she questions my choice of clothing; a plain grey shirt and faded jeans.

  “No. I will go and change.” I kiss the top of her head and leave her to my father’s devices.

  “Katie have you ever had the pleasure of viewing a civil war reenactment?” my father asks. I laugh to myself as I go down to my room.

  I put a black, long-sleeved, button up shirt on because Katie hates all of my t-shirts and I don’t want to hear it all night long. I look in the mirror, r
unning my hand through my hair with no luck; it fluffs up. I debate on changing my jeans, but decide against it. I don’t care that much.

  My mind goes back to Barbie. She changed her hair back to pale blond. I like it. She looks more like herself, comfortable. She was still hot as hell with it dark, but it was like she was walking around in someone else’s skin. Where did she sneak off to?

  I pull on my black chucks and go upstairs. My dad is showing Katie photos of his reenactment of the civil war when I come back into the kitchen. Katie is politely listening with a look of tedium in her eyes.

  “So where’re you kids off to tonight.” Dad stretches his sock covered feet out in front of him and yawns. I look at Katie for the answer.

  “Oh, just going to hang out with some friends.” She jumps up and races to my side, begging me to rescue her from my father.

  “Well, you kids don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks at us.

  “Sure, Dad,” I say.

  We say our good-byes and leave before my dad tries to show us his slides of the battle of Chattanooga.

  “I’ll drive,” I say when we get outside.

  “But…” Katie begins to protest. I’m already climbing into my truck, so she has no choice other than to get in.

  ###

  Katie sits on my lap and I tilt my head back, sighing. I am so bored that I let myself day-dream of Barbie and where she is at and who she is with. If I had just gone up to her earlier, maybe she would be back at my house safe.

  “What could you possibly be thinking about?” one of Katie’s friends asks. I don’t know who she is. I refer to her as the small, loud one.

  “Nothing.” I grab my coke off the table and take a drink.

  “Yeah, right, no one looks so deep in thought to only be thinking about nothing or nobody.” She gives me a knowing smile.

  “Are you thinking about me, baby?” Katie turns in my lap so she is facing me. She wraps her arms around my neck.

  “Of course,” I say.

  “Awww,” Katie’s group of friends sigh together.

  “Can you two try not to rub it in our faces? Some of us are lonely and single,” the short, plump one says. Jill?

  Katie smashes her mouth to mine and our teeth clank together before she sticks her tongue down my throat. Everything is a show for Katie; I learned that quickly. She is giving her friends what she thinks they want to see. I sit there, limply, not really kissing her back, but Katie doesn’t notice or care.

  Breaking away, she wipes at my lips with her fingertips and turns back to her friends. “I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper in her ear. I want to get away and give Third a call, maybe he has seen Barbie?

  “Now?” she frets. What does she want me to do, hold it until I piss myself?

  “Yeah now,” I say it loud enough to pique the interest of her friend next to us.

  Katie saves face and kisses me. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.”

  Her friend next to her gets that dreamy look in her eyes while I merely roll mine. I cannot believe that at one time I actually cared what these people thought of me.

  I zip up my pants and wash my hands in the cold water. I leave them under there for a while. Maybe if I stay in here long enough, I can fake being sick and go home. Then again, I don’t really want to go home, knowing she’s not there. I dry my hands and call Third, leaning against the bathroom stall.

  The phone rings three times before he answers. “What’s up, home slice?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “I am stuck with the psycho and her herd of automatons,” I say.

  “That blows.” I can hear the clicking of a key board and the sound of small explosions in the background.

  “I know. What are you doing? I think I’m going to fake sick and get out of here.” I confess my plan to him.

  “Do it. I just got the new Throat Slasher game and I have been waiting to spank you at it.” Okay, so despite Third’s phrase, that does sound way better than what I am doing now, playing automaton for Katie.

  “Oh wait, I think B is at my front door.” I can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone.

  “Wait. What? She is there?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it is her. I can hear her talking to my mom. I think they are talking about you.” Oh shit, if Mrs. Cruz is talking about me, it can’t be good. I don’t know what I ever did to that lady to make her hate me. “Are you still coming over?” Third asks.

  “No. I don’t think she wants to see me.” And that sucks.

  “All right, I better go and save her from my mom,” he says.

  “Kay. Bye. Wait… Third?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep an eye on her.”

  “Yeah sure. Whatever,” he says nonchalantly.

  “Dude, I am serious. She has not been herself lately. Don’t let anything happen to her. If you let something happen, I swear I am going to kick your ass,” I threaten him.

  “All right. All right. Geesh. Besides, you really can’t touch this. I’ll pull out some of my bad ass ninja moves on you,” he retorts.

  “Dude! I am not playing around,” I tell him in a serious tone so he knows I am not kidding with him and then hang up the phone to go back out to Katie.

  Chapter 4.

  Barbie

  I get to Third’s house and knock on the door. A few moments later, the door is yanked open and a plump lady in a fluffy pink robe with matching slippers stands in the doorway.

  “Barbie!” She gives me a once over. I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I at least had thought of a bra before my great escape act. “What did that boy do to you? You poor thing,” she says, yanking me into a hug and pressing my face to her abundant chest.

  “Nothing, he didn’t do anything,” I say, muffled into her cleavage.

  “Now you don’t go lying for that boy. I know he is trouble. Always has been. Going around, breaking poor girls’ hearts like yourself and playing with that slutty little red head.” Oh, I love Mrs. Cruz for her ignorance. If she thinks Katie is a slut, then I must be a super slut. However, in her demented world, I wear a capital V on my sweater.

  “Why I was just telling Bartty that you should forget that boy ever existed and go out with a nice gentleman like Bartholomew,” she says.

  “MOM! Will you let her go! You are going to suffocate her with your giganticous boobs!” Third comes into the kitchen.

  “You see what kind of words that boy teaches you. Bartty, don’t you say boobs to your mother, ya hear me? You are not too big to go and pick me a switch! “ She lets me go.

  “Mom.”

  “Bartholomew Norbert the Third, don’t cha’ sass ya’ mother. There best be an apology coming mighty quick.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry, ma’am.” Third hangs his head low and I giggle at the amusing exchange between the two.

  “Now it is all right. Why don’t I cook us up some po’ boy sandwiches to settle all this upset and we can forget about all this mess. Besides, I don’t blame you for learning to back talk me.” She starts to shuffle to the kitchen, mumbling under her breath.

  “And some of those cookies Barbie loves,” Third calls after her and then winks at me. “Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me towards his room.

  He shuts the door behind us and I flop down on his bed. Oh, I love this bed! I roll over onto my side, sinking into its soft embrace. I slept in this bed when I got sick, that was when my life started to uncoil its tight grip on me. I roll back, wanting to forget about that night that I was blissfully ignorant. That one night cost me everything.

  “Spill,” he says, taking a seat at his computer and closing down the screen, but he isn’t fast enough and I see he had Roxie’s Facebook page up. Ugh, why can’t love be simple? I know he is stalking her, obsessing what he’s doing wrong, but the truth is, he’s not doing anything wrong and that is the problem.

  Roxie might not say it to me, but I know she is scared that Third can’t really be this nice to her. That, if she lets he
r guard down with him, he will rear his ugly boy head and become a cheating jerk like her ex. She doesn’t know Third like I do; he couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried. He is loyal and clueless almost to a fault, but I wouldn’t change him for the world. If he was a dick to her and not the complete sweetheart gentlemen that he is, then she would be interested in him. That is the fucked up truth. People look for the flaws and cannot accept the truth and beauty in the innocent, me included.

  “That is it, me and you, we are going out. We are going to forget about those douche bags.” I declare. Third scoots the chair across the distance between us.

  “Oh no, what did he do?” He looks at me with those sad, watery, puppy dog eyes of his.

  “Nothing, which is the problem. He has done nothing and still he haunts me. Third, I just need to forget. I need to forget everything.” He gets out of the chair and climbs onto the bed next to me. I slide over to where the bed bows under his weight.

  “B, if I do anything that gets you into even the littlest bit of trouble, he is going to kick my ass,” he says, smoothing down his hair.

  “If you don’t and you let me go out into the cruel, cold world to find trouble all by myself, then he will kick your ass. Besides, he will never know. Come on, you want to forget too, don’t cha’?” I kneel next to him placing my forehead against his temple. “Pretty pleassse.” I pucker out my lip. I am not being a very good friend right now, but I know that if I have Third with me, I will not let myself go too far, or at least, he will not let me go too far.

  “You are a wicked, wicked girl. What do you have in mind?” he asks.

  “Does your dad have any more of that whiskey left? The stuff he hides under the couch from your momma?”

  ###

  “Third get up.” I laugh, pulling on his arm. He is lying down in a dirty ditch. Somewhere along our way to find trouble, we drank too much of the whiskey and forgot the way. Now Third is lying in a ditch; his shirt open, exposing his fat belly and who knows where he managed to lose one of his shoes. I crumple up next to him, laughing at the sight of him. He pulls my head down next to his, tangling his fingers in my hair.