This was the prompt I submitted for Week Two of the Odd Prompts challenge.
Alise lined up her dolls along the long side of the table. Her small hands showed none of the usual childlike clumsiness, each movement deliberate and precise. Each doll’s stray locks of hair had been tugged unwilling into martial buns. Tiny shoes shone polished and bright, dangling under a purple plastic rectangle at unnatural plastic angles, inches above shell pink carpet. One miniature chair remained empty.
She pushed ruffled white lace aside, grimacing as the voluminous folds of fabric fell back onto her hands. From under her bed, she revealed a battered shoebox, held shut with a rubber band. The brittle band snapped when she touched it, haste making her hands clumsy again. She pulled off the soft cardboard lid and let out a breath at the sight.
“I have something special for you, Gemma,” Alise whispered, with a sideways glance at the half-open door. It wouldn’t do for Mother to overhear. “Today, you get a special accessory.”
She dug in her skirt pocket. Miss Hardy had given her two gold stars today, but she’d been rushed in handing them out as students headed for the line of impatient parents and piano lessons. These stars still had the precious sticky backing, and that meant they were perfect.
She held her breath as she lifted the doll out of the box at last, her ears near ringing by the time the application was done. Each star was aligned with precision, one on each shoulder.
Alise glanced at the door again with a guilty heart, her stomach doing a funny flip. She’d tried to make Mother happy, but it never seemed to end well. The unwanted purse was left forgotten in a mall store, resulting in a tense trip back to multiple stores to find it. Sore feet and multiple apologies later, she’d dared to ask why it was so important to retrieve an empty purse and accidentally kicked off the furor again.
Or the time she’d been prissed up in a fluffy dress and curls, but had found playing in the rain with her boy cousins to be far more fun than a boring game of house with the girls, who’d stayed in the stuffy basement, afraid to get wet, afraid of worms. How was she supposed to know there would be a family photo? She’d never been to a family reunion before, and she’d been told to play and leave the adults alone.
Lips firming, Alise put General Gemma at the head of the line. The row of dolls stared at her blankly. It was time to set up the opposition.
Getting up, she nearly tripped over her shiny patent leather Mary Janes. She hated those shoes, uncomfortable and stiff, hobbling her ability to run. Every scuff unladylike, every mention of them a discussion on proper behavior. She kicked the despicable shoes under the end of the bed, reached up, and grabbed a very special item from her collection of stuffed animals.
The duck was fuzzy, battered, and one-eyed. Each month, she had to fight to keep her favorite, the less-than-perfect toy. Only that her gran had given her the toy saved Pirate from the donation bin. Alise hugged him to her stomach with a quick clench at the idea of some other child handling him, maybe even losing him.
A last quick pet of matted fur, and she placed Pirate with reverence across from General Gemma. She had to run into the bathroom to sneak out the last of what she needed, but soon a row of rubber ducks faced the dolls. She stood and nodded once, satisfied.
“Let it begin,” Alise said, her hands clasped in front of her, raised to her mouth as if trying to hide her delight. She dropped to her knees and lifted a hand to take hold of Pirate.
A footstep outside the door stopped her mid-reach.
“What are you doing, Alise?”
She straightened. “Hello, Mother.”
The woman was tall, made more so by three inch heels and upswept blonde hair. She frowned, her height looming over the little girl as she stepped inside and looked down. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily at the sight of the ragged duck before she paused and smoothed out her face, porcelain perfection beginning the inevitable mar of age.
“What on Earth is this?” She toed a rubber duck with a blue, pointed toe. “These ducks belong in the bathtub. And in the bin, but we’ll go through this again next week, won’t we.”
Alise stood up, tired of being towered over and annoyed her perfect moment had been interrupted. She planted her feet and crossed her arms. “Nothing.”
“You went to a lot of effort for nothing,” her mother pressed. “This is the oddest tea party I’ve ever seen. What have you done to the dolls’ hair? I’d better not find it’s been cut.”
She unfolded her arms, sighed, and shifted her weight. Clenching tiny fists by her sides, she looked up. “It’s peace neigh goat stations.”
Her mother blinked. “Peace negotiations? Where on earth did you learn about that? Did Gran let you watch C-SPAN again?”
“No,” Alise muttered, and kicked a foot against the carpet.
“Alise!” The words were sharp and dropped into the pink monstrosity of a room like a firecracker.
Alise wished it had been a real firecracker. Maybe she’d get to choose a better color if the room was destroyed. One she actually liked.
Her mother sniffed and turned to leave. As she walked down the hall, she called back. “Clean this up and change your clothes. We’re going out.”
Her face fell, but she knew better than to dare disobey.
“I guess that’s it, General Gemma,” she whispered. Her lip trembled, but she pretended not to see the drop of water that fell on the General’s face. “Neigh goat stations have failed. It will be war.”
She could have sworn Pirate winked at her.
