Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“But she’s your sister. Surely you have some idea—”
I hold up a hand. “I’ve never been able to figure her out.”
I love playing with my dollies.
In their world, I’m in charge. I choose what they wear, who they have tea parties with, what they do.
Mommy gives me a new doll almost every week. I have so many now that they take up almost all the space in my playroom.
Honestly, the dollies are the only attention I get from Mommy. She and Daddy spend all their energy oohing and aahing over Rougey. Daddy used to pay me lots of attention when I was littler, but now he’s focused only on my sister.
She’s six years older than I am. Just turned thirteen. She’s great in school, and she’s immediately good at everything she tries. Piano, art, archery, softball, fencing.
I’m okay at stuff. But Mommy tells me that I’m best at being pretty and playing with my dollies.
So here I am.
A sudden wave of frost shivers through me. It’s a feeling I’m used to. It comes every time Rougey is near. I look up and sure enough, she’s standing in the doorway.
She walks in, sneering at the dollies. “Playing dolls again, Bianca?”
I swallow. “Yeah. Mommy says it’s what I do best.”
She rolls her eyes. “You realize that’s not a compliment, right? Mom thinks you’re dim in the head, that you’re never going to amount to anything.” She tosses her long red hair. “Not like me. She thinks I can be anything I want to be. Daddy’s already talking about giving me his clubs when I’m old enough.”
Daddy runs clubs downtown. I don’t know a whole lot about them. I know they’re different from like chess club at school. It sounds like they’re a place where grown-ups go to dance with each other. Seems silly. You can dance at home, and you can do it in your jammies there.
“That’s great, Rougey.” I don’t know what else to say.
She squats down, frowning. “You know, if you want to make something of yourself like I will, there are different games you can play. More grown-up games than tea party with your dollies.”
“But I like tea parties with my—”
Rougey holds up a hand. “No, you don’t. You just think you do. Mom doesn’t see your potential.” Something changes in her eyes. “Not the way I do. Isn’t there anything else you like to do?”
I scratch my head. “I guess I like to sing. It would be fun to do plays like the ones we see downtown.”
“There you go. Keep thinking in that direction.” She picks up one of my favorite dolls, a Malibu Barbie. “In the meantime, you’ll have to stop playing with dollies if you want to get there.”
“But Rougey—”
She snaps my Barbie’s head right off.
I gasp and start to cry. “Mommy! Rougey broke my—”
But Rouge is behind me in a flash, covering my mouth. “Mommy isn’t here right now, Bianca. And our nanny is on the other side of the mansion. Neither of them can hear you. So crying isn’t going to do you any good.” She uncovers my mouth.
I wipe my eyes and sniff a few times. “Why did you break my Barbie?”
She grins. “Because you’re so much more than Barbie. You’re Bianca.”
I get up and grab a tissue to blow my nose and wipe the rest of my tears away. “Then what kind of games should I play? What are the grown-up games?”
She extends her hand. “Come with me down to the basement. I’ll show you.”
I get to my feet and follow Rougey, but as I do my left eyebrow twitches.
That’s weird. I’ve never felt that before.
Mommy sometimes has a twitch like that in her eyebrow. I asked her about it once. She said she just had too much coffee that day, but she looked a little scared when she told me.
She then got a phone call and learned that Daddy had been in a car accident. He was in the hospital, so she scooped me up and took me along. I never got to ask about her twitch again.
My eyebrow twitches a second time.
It’s probably nothing.
I’ll ignore it.
10
HARRISON
I knock on the door to Alissa’s room. Just as I thought, there was a small electric piano in the kids’ music room, which I promptly unplugged and dragged back up to my ward. It’s lightweight, so I didn’t need any help.
“Come in,” Bianca says.
I open the door and enter. Bianca is seated at the side of Alissa’s bed, right where I left her. She has a distant look in her eyes, but when she sees me she smiles.
“You found a piano!”
I take the piano to the other side of the bed and set it up on its flimsy stand. “It’s not exactly a Steinway, but it should help you decipher the code in the music box.” I plug it in and the keyboard lights up.