Authors: Tyrolin Puxty

Broken Dolls (25 page)

Riding Gabby is what it must be like to ride a giant elephant or camel. Her strides are unpredictable and bumpy, so I have to hold onto her ear for balance. No one looks at me. The town is used to Gabby having a “robot” on her shoulder.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve changed much,” I say when we glimpse our reflections in a sparkling storefront.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re taller and lankier, but you still look the same. It must be nice to grow. You know, like, naturally.”

“It’s not nice at all.” She turns the corner onto a street with only two streetlights. Our street.

“Why isn’t it nice?”

Gabby kicks at the gravel, her trainers wearing at the toe. I can tell she’s unsettled by how still the night is. “Being a kid is fun, and I think being an adult could be all right. It’s just this middle stage. People are confused, mean, and dumb. Plus boys are all ugly at this age. Their noses get too big for their face, or something.”

I giggle, excited that she’s managed to make a joke. Surely, depressed people don’t do that. That’s why the comedians on TV are so funny; they’re too happy to be sad. “Big noses mean you’ll make lots of money. That’s what the psychic told the man on TV.”

“That’s probably what she said to make him feel better,” she says, covering her mouth when she laughs. I love it when she laughs.

“I doubt it. TV is always right, haven’t you heard?”

She stops laughing and comes to an abrupt halt on our lawn, gaping at the front door.

“Why is our door open?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Why are all the lights turned off?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why aren’t we going in?”

Gabby swallows. “Because I’m scared of what I’ll find.”

I climb onto her head to get a better view. She’d barely feel me there. “Want me to investigate?”

“No.” She takes a moment to breathe. “We go in together.”

I take hold of her hair like reins, keeping my voice low. “I’m with you.”

She doesn’t move. If I was watching this on TV, I’d guess the scene was paused.

“I think I’m stuck in a dream.” Gabby’s voice is tight. “The lawn is miles long, Ella. Nothing makes sense, it’s… it’s all in slow-motion. It’s like I’m a doll again.”

“It’s your anxiety.” I calmly stroke her braid. I can’t feel how soft it must be, but, at least, she can feel me. “Maybe we should call the police?”

“No,” she says, inhaling but not exhaling. She crosses the lawn and stands in the doorway, staring into the house. No lights are on.

“Breathe, Gabby. Breathe for both of us.”

Gabby nods and steps in, the floorboards creaking beneath her. I always liked how Gabby’s parents kept the traditional feel to the house with polished flooring and high ceilings, but it’s strange without them here. Our home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

“Stay here,” I say, “I’ll tell you when the coast is clear.”

I sneak through the hall, poking my head around each corner before entering the next room. I figure it’s best for me to go first–if the intruders are still here, they’re not going to do much harm to a doll.

No one is in the living room, or the bedrooms. The windows are open, and the curtains float delicately in the breeze.

If the intruders are still here, they’re masters of disguise.

“Gabby?” I call. She enters, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“Why are the windows open?” She twirls her hoodie’s cords.

I shrug. “Maybe your parents wanted fresh air?”

“Their cars are still in the driveway.” Her voice trembles. “Why would they leave everything wide open like this if everything was okay?”

The house pipes suddenly clank when the dishwasher switches on. Gabby clutches at her heart and utters an obscenity. “Have you checked the kitchen?”

I shake my head. Gabby pushes past me, the kitchen door swinging when she moves through. I follow suit, unsettled by the number of knives sprawled across the counter. One of the chairs has been knocked over, along with a bowl of fruit.

I kick at a bruised grape. “Oh no!” I run towards the back door, my eyes clicking with each blink.

“What?” Gabby asks.

I don’t respond as I poke my head through the cat-flap and check the backyard for intruders.

“Jupiter?” I press my plastic lips together to make a kissing sound. “Jupes?”

When the inky cat doesn’t come, I walk towards Gabby, dragging my feet.

“The cat’s gone,” I say quietly while Gabby inspects one of the knives.

“Cats don’t always come when you call them,” she says, but it doesn’t sound like she’s listening. She inspects a banana, which is peeled and squished. “Someone’s taken my parents.”

“And your cat.” I run back towards the flap to double-check. “Come on, Jupes!”

“Come on, Ella.” Gabby bends over to pick me up and places me on her head. “We’re leaving.”

“Where to?” I ask, devastated to leave Jupes behind. I used to hate cats, but I’ve grown somewhat obsessed.

“Aunt Sianne’s.”

If I could gulp, I would. “But she’s mental. Can’t we go to your friend’s house?”

“This is a family matter.” Gabby tears down the hallway like a whirlwind. She goes into her room and pulls out random items of clothing, shoving them into her backpack. “Could you get my toothbrush, please?”

I don’t hesitate. I jump from her head, the forced landing enough to make my ankles squeak, but not enough to break. I hurry into the bathroom across the hall and climb the sink. I stumble on the drawers and note that the medicine drawer has been ransacked. The only thing left is the aspirin. How odd.

Her toothbrush is about the same height as me, so it’s awkward to carry it out. When I return, Gabby stares at a photograph of the four of us at the Great Barrier Reef. She’d spent weeks sewing a scuba suit for me, just so I felt included. It was sweet.

“Are you ready?”

Gabby flinches when I speak, pulling her gaze away from the photo. “Yeah.” She grabs the toothbrush and picks me up, swifter and rougher than usual. “Did you find anything in there?”

I pause. “No. The bathroom was just like normal.” I’m not good at lying, but Gabby is too flustered to notice. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her. Didn’t want her to worry, I guess? Her dad is a medical scientist, just like the professor, so the thought of intruders stealing medicine just seems like an unnecessary stress.

We leave what was once our home, but Gabby doesn’t shut the front door behind us. I guess she’s not ready to close the chapter on her parents just yet.