The Dollhouse (paperback)

CHAPTER ONE

Our Family Photo Album

Photograph. A blonde woman sits in an armchair in front of a crackling fire; baby cradled in her arms. She is beaming. Her husband, dark-haired and handsome in a thick wool cardigan and pleated gray trousers, stands behind the chair, a hand on the woman’s shoulder, broad smile that makes his eyes twinkle. A five-year-old blonde girl leans into the side of the chair, expression pouty, tugging her mother’s hand to bring it to herself rather than the baby.

Note next to photo: Freddy’s first Christmas. December 14, 1976

CHAPTER TWO

August 19, 2006

“I’ll only be gone three days. There’s plenty of food in the fridge, but you can call Lynn if you need anything.” Sunshine Evanston, Angel’s mother, moved around the messy bedroom, gathering clothes like a squirrel gathers nuts, randomly but with intention.

Angel watched her mother toss each item into their household’s only suitcase, which was covered in labels—You are my sunshine, Rise & Shine, I’m in a sunshine state of mind, Shine on. The open mouth of the hot pink Samsonite reminded Angel of the Hungry Hippo game she’d loved when she was a little kid. Black bikini. Tank tops, orange and blue. Denim shorts, black jeans, favorite ‘going out’ dress. Hairdryer. Curling iron. Makeup bag.

Angel sat cross-legged on her mother’s bed and chewed at the cuticle around her thumbnail, making the dry, cracked skin sting. “Will you pay the cable before you go?”

Shine considered various pieces of jewelry from the top of her messy dresser. “You’re fourteen, basically an adult, and it’s time you understood being an adult is about choices, Angel. Without Junior’s child support, things are tight. You’ll survive without crime shows and music videos.” She grabbed a handful of foil packets from her nightstand and squeezed them into the side pocket. “There’ll be lots of stuff happening with the fair. The parade, and fireworks. I bet Lynn or Carl would give you a ride to the fairgrounds.”

Angel flopped backward onto the messy bed. The rough zipper of the suitcase caught her ear. She rubbed at the sting and sat up. “Bud will hang out with his friends the whole time. What am I supposed to do by myself?”

“You have a room full of shit. And that iPod thing Lynn gave you. Maybe this will encourage you to actually make a friend or two.” Shine shoved her feet into her sneakers and zipped the suitcase as far as it would go, but the teeth misaligned halfway around and refused to budge. This wasn’t a new problem; she pulled a black bungee cord from the side pocket and wrapped it around the suitcase, through the handle, and hooked the two ends together. Stickers and bungee cords were what kept the stupid thing functioning. “Where the hell did I put my purse...”

Angel dug it out from the mess of sheets and pillows and handed it over.

“Time to grow up, kid. You’ll be fine.” A horn honked, and Shine bent to kiss Angel on the forehead, calling behind her, “Love you, doll face! See you Wednesday!”

“Bye, Mom,” Angel muttered, putting extra emphasis on the last word. Shine hated being called ‘mom.’ She said it made her feel like an old cow. The dig didn’t matter, though. Shine was already gone, dust from Bonnie’s truck pushing through the old screens on the trailer. Some of the screens were kept together by stickers and bungee cords, too.

Angel’s nose twitched. Her life was jimmy-rigged and make-do.

Shine lied. It wasn’t three days. Angel and Bud would be alone in the trailer four nights by themselves, and five days. Shine wasn’t counting today or Wednesday. That was Shine math... shave off a little here, add a little there, until you got the number that matched up to your purposes. Shine was lackadaisical (a favored word learned in English class) when it came to anything to do with numbers—days, quantities, money. Except Angel thought it wasn’t really laziness. Shine knew. Like, if she had money to go to Chicago, Shine maybe could have paid some to the cable company so Angel would have something to do.

Angel’s twin brother, Bud, was suspicious when Shine took them to the Diner this morning. The only time they went out for breakfast was when Shine had something to tell them that she knew they wouldn’t like. For instance, “Your idiot father has been arrested.” Or, today, “I’m taking a little trip to reenergize myself now that the nasty trial business is over.”

Of course, Bud was excited they’d be on their own for the weekend. He and Shine had been arguing a lot lately, ever since their dad, Junior Evanston, was arrested for robbing banks. Bud thought Shine should have stood up for Junior, instead of laughing at him for being ‘an incompetent idiot.’ Bud got really mad when Shine talked to a guy from one of the national news shows. He said Shine should be more loyal to the father of her children, instead of chumming up to the reporters. Bud had feelings, and made them clear. Angel had feelings too. She felt bad for her dad, but she kind of thought it was funny that ‘the fools’ had blown up part of a historic courthouse in their last robbery. It reminded her of some of the old-timey movies she sometimes watched late at night when she couldn’t sleep.

The more Shine was Shine, the angrier Bud got. The trial was a month or so ago, but they’d been poking at each other ever since. Angel spent a lot of time playing peacemaker.

“I don’t want you to go,” Angel had said, swirling one of Shine’s fries in ketchup. They were at the Daisy Diner, the only place they ever ate because Shine’s best friend Lynn owned it, and they ate free. The food was good, but Angel wished they could have tacos or a bucket of fried chicken every once in a while.

“Sorry, kid, but mama needs a little adult time,” Shine had told them and made a face at Bud as he scooped up hot fudge and whipped cream from a sundae bowl that held no ice cream. Lynn had put the Bud Sundae on the menu when he was six to make him feel special, but he was the only one who ordered it; most people preferred ice cream in their sundaes. Bud hated ice cream.

“You’re such a weird kid, Bud. How did you come out of me?” Shine muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I’d explain it to you, but that’s not appropriate lunch conversation.” Bud said, throwing her a smirk.

“Don’t be an asshole.” Shine kicked him under the table—well, tried to, but her foot connected with Angel’s leg instead of Bud’s, and Angel yelped. Typical. Bud acted up, and Angel got punished.

Now Shine was gone, and Bud was off with his friends, and Angel was alone at the trailer the three of them shared, and she was already bored. She considered doing the dishes and cleaning up. That would be a nice surprise for Shine when she got back. Bud would make fun of her for trying to make Shine happy when Shine didn’t really care that much if they were happy. Angel would maybe clean Tuesday morning, so Bud didn’t have time to mess it up again just to be an ass.

Lynn had given Angel an iPod shuffle for her birthday a few weeks ago because Angel was obsessed with music, and, unlike her own mother, Lynn actually wanted Angel to be happy. Lynn would have been a great mom, but she never got married, never had kids. Sometimes, like now, Angel wished Lynn was her mom.

It was stuffy in the trailer. Shine wouldn’t let them turn on the window unit unless it was above 90, and it wasn’t even close, only 82. If Bud was here, he’d say “Screw that!” and crank up the AC. But Bud wasn’t here.

Angel poured orange drink into a plastic cup and went out the trailer door to the patio. She could see the LaMarca’s minivan in front of their house and hoped Mr. LaMarca didn’t look out the window. He was kind of cute for an old guy, and she’d be totally embarrassed if he saw her dancing around and singing.

The old maple tree shaded the patio at the base of the stoop. Angel set the cup on the table under the tree and clicked the iPod tucked into the pocket of her t-shirt. Lynn had loaded the iPod with music she knew Angel would like. Her current favorite was Beyoncé’s album B ‘Day. Before they cut the cable off, Angel spent hours watching the video for Irreplaceable, memorizing some of the gestures. She particularly loved swinging her hips and pointing during the “to the left, to the left” part. One day a boy would want her, and she’d send him packing, singing and dancing to send him away.