Shattered Girls (Broken Dolls Book 2) (2 page)

Brenda dangles my head in front of Gabby.

“
ELLA
!” Gabby cries. “Dev, you’re my friend! Stop filming and do something!”

“Yeah, Dev!” I repeat, disgusted by Brenda’s drool sliding down my cheek.

And it works. Devin stops filming and tucks the phone in her back pocket. She tears me away from Brenda and passes my wet head back to Gabby, who promptly fits it back onto my body. Okay, that was certainly surreal.

“Brenda, that’s enough!” Devin says as the bell rings. “You went too far.”

“No, I haven’t.” Brenda reaches for Devin’s phone. Before anyone thinks to stop her, she presses a few buttons and throws the phone back at Dev. “
Now
I’ve gone too far. Have a nice day.”

Brenda turns on her heel and leaves with her nose proudly in the air. Gabby cuddles into me, wiping Brenda’s spit with her shirt.

“What was she talking about?” Jess’s voice trembles. I almost feel sorry for her.

Devin sighs and passes the phone to Gabby. Together we lean in and gasp. The video has just been uploaded to YouTube. And it’s called
Devil Doll
.

“
Coming up this hour, a young girl claims to have a doll possessed by the devil
.”

Gabby groans and curls her legs close to her chest.

I pass her a crisp she’d dropped earlier and sink into the sofa. “It could be worse. Truly. I mean, they just think I’m a robot.”

“It couldn’t be worse. We’ve been exposed!” Gabby throws herself into the cushion, her scream muffled by the fabric.

I tap my feet together, satisfied with the new periwinkle leotard Gabby bought for me. As far as I’m concerned, everything is great. Since the news story, people want to see me and talk to me at school.

The infamous video that Devin filmed flashes on the TV screen, the footage shaky and blurred. They’ve somehow edited it to make Brenda look heroic for burning me, the Devil Doll, before I hurt someone.

There’s a knock. Gabby’s parents aren’t home, so she reluctantly pulls herself from the sofa. I jump off and follow, cuddling her ankle when she stares at the door.

“Dad always said never open the door,” she mumbles. “I haven’t brushed my hair. And I’m in track pants.” She bends over to pick me up and place me on her shoulder. “I have a bad feeling it’s the press.”

“So what if it is? Tell them how cool I am!”

Gabby inhales and reaches for the knob, just as someone knocks again. The door swings open, and as predicted, several journalists with cameras, microphones and notepads jostle for space.

“Gabrielle, where did you get this so-called Devil Doll?”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with dolls?”

“Where can other children purchase this high-tech, state of the art invention?”

“Our sources tell us the doll’s name is Gabriella. Did you name the doll after yourself?”

The camera flashes are blinding, and the reporters babble over one another. Nothing makes sense.

“Please stop!” Gabby pleads, but she can’t be heard. “Leave me alone!”

“Gabrielle! We hear your family has a scientific background. Did they create this doll-robot?”

“You were once part of the epidemic. Tell us how you survived!”

“Is it true your father is on the verge of a medical breakthrough?”

“Your mother writes up your father’s findings. What are
your
plans when you leave school?”

“Tell us, do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Our sources told us you might be
ga
―
”

“
STOP
!” Gabby screams, slamming the door in their faces. She hurries to the curtains and draws them shut, but we can still hear their voices.

“Gabby, it’s okay,” I whisper, but she’s already slid down the wall to the floor. She sobs into the carpet, reaching out for me and squeezing me against her chest so she has something to cuddle.

Sometimes, even big girls need their dolls.

“You were foolish taking Ella to school.” Gabby’s dad crosses his arms and blocks the front door.

“I’ve gotta get going, Jason.” Gabby refuses to make eye contact, so I awkwardly remain perched on her shoulder.

“I am your
father
!” he yells, his face flushing. He looks like the professor when he’s mad. “You
will not
disrespect me by calling me Jason!”

Does he even realize he inadvertently quoted
Star Wars?

“Some father you are,” Gabby mumbles, attempting to sidestep. When he doesn’t budge, she mirrors him by folding her arms. “You’re never here, anyway.”

“Well, I’m here now! You’re not going to school!”

“It’s been a
week
! If I miss another day, they’ll make me go to summer school, and I’m
not
doing that. Please, just get out of my way! You’re suffocating me!”

Gabby’s mother steps into the hall, rubbing cream into her hands. “What’s going on?”

“Gabrielle thinks she’s going to school.”

“I
am
going to school!” Gabby corrects. “God, what’s wrong with you two? Most parents have to force their kids to go! But you’re not like most parents, are you, Pam?”

Pam flinches and looks behind her as if to check if Gabby is referring to somebody else. “Hey! What did I do?”

“You’re just as bad as
him!
He’s always locked away in the lab, and you’re always locked in the study writing!”

Pam doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t need to. Her green eyes glisten with tears. I like Pam. She and her daughter look alike, but her hair is longer and darker. Her tummy protrudes even through her baggy shirts, but otherwise she looks good for her age.

“You can’t blame us for your mistake,” Jason says after a prolonged silence. “If you choose to go to school, then so be it. Just don’t come whining to us when the press bombards you again.”

Gabby rolls her eyes and pushes past Jason. He places a firm hand on the shoulder I’m not on and motions towards me. “Do you think that’s wise, taking Ella?”

“They know about her now.” Gabby shrugs. “There’s no point hiding her.”

Pam and Jason exchange worried glances, but they fold. Pam throws her hands in the air and slumps back into the study. Jason steps to the side, carefully watching Gabby as she leaves the house. It’s a huge contrast outside. Birds chirp, the sun shines, and the breeze is gentle. The tension back inside was enough to make anyone bitter.

“You know they’re not trying to make you mad, don’t you?” I say as Gabby marches down the road. “You understand they’re looking out for you, right?”

“Ella, just shut up for a second, okay? No offence, but I just need quiet time.”

“Well, I do take offence, Gabby, but I’ll shut up all the same.” I cross my arms, a reoccurring theme in the family today and concentrate on the walk ahead.

We’ve barely left the front lawn when a trashcan lid drops and rolls towards us. We turn and find a reporter trespassing in our backyard, digging through the bins.

“Hey!” Gabby yells, taking off towards him. He scurries away, holding something we can’t see. “Gutter press! Literally!” She bends over and picks up the newspaper on our lawn and goes to throw it at him, but he’s already gone.

“We have to tell your dad,” I say, sensing Gabby’s turmoil.

“No,” she pants, staring after the journo. “Then he’ll never let me leave. This never happened.”

I sigh. How I wish this family wasn’t so secretive.

I can only imagine Gabby’s heart sinking when we see the paparazzo at the school entrance. No wonder they call them vultures. They’re more like terminators who don’t eat, sleep, or breathe. I mean, neither do I, but at least I don’t stalk people and write lies.

“Are we going in?” I whisper.

Gabby attempts to slow her heart rate by breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. “I have to face them sometime. If I do it now, then it’ll be over. Right?”

I stroke her ear. “Exactly. Let’s just do it, Gabby.” It is all my fault. More or less. And yes, I do feel horribly guilty.

Putting on a brave face, she puffs out her chest and walks through the gates. Instantly, we’re bombarded with more journalists excited to see me. I can’t help but smile. I’ve never had so much attention in my life.

“Hello everyone!” I wave and blow kisses. “Lovely to meet you all!”

“Gabriella! Tell us about yourself!” a man with an orange bowtie says.

“Oh, my name is Ella, actually.” I offer my hand for a shake. Tentatively, he gives me his finger.

“Ella,” he says. “What are you?”

“A robot.” It’s safe to stick with my original story.

“And who made you?”

I shrug when Gabby shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“Happy now?” Gabby growls, pushing through the crowd. “You’ve got everything you needed! Now, leave us
alone
!”

“We want an exclusive with the Devil Doll!”

“Yeah, yeah! A one-on-one!”

I clap my hands. “I’d love that!”

Gabby grabs me and shoves me into her backpack. “No, she wouldn’t!”

I can’t see what happens next, but their voices fade into the distance and the slamming of lockers takes their place. The next thing I hear is a creaky door, running taps, and flushing. Gabby pulls me from the bag and props me on the bathroom sink once the other girls leave.

“You are
never
to speak to those reporters again!” She’s never sounded so serious.

“They still hassling you?” Maddox, Gabby’s tubby friend—and the only other person who knows I’m real—struts out of the cubicle and turns on the faucet, then wipes his hands on his striped shirt. It wasn’t until Gabby and Maddox both tried out for the debating team that they really hit it off. I guess they bonded over the whole ‘dolls are sometimes human’ thing. That, and arguing over politics. “Want me to take them out?”

“Mad-Dog! What the hell are you doing in the girl’s bathroom?”

He twists his face and leans on the sink. “Ah, have you
seen
the boy’s bathroom?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t taint your image of perfection. Trust me: not all bathrooms are created equal.” He tickles my chin. “Hey, Ells. You being naughty again?”

I grin, lifting my chin so he can scratch my throat. I can’t feel it, but he seems to enjoy it. “Never.”

“You’re not going to bust us, are you?” Gabby snaps, snatching me away from Maddox. “You can’t go to the reporters!”

He raises his hands defensively. “Chill, girl! I haven’t told a soul what happened that day in the hospital, and I never intend to. Scout’s honor!”

Conceding defeat, Gabby sighs and hugs Maddox, who pats her back soothingly. “I’m sorry, Mad-Dog. Forgive me?”

“Always. You’re still coming paintballing with us next weekend, right?”

“Isn’t the legal age, like, sixteen?”

“Lenny’s dad pulled a few strings. My advice? Wear extra padding.” He shoots his index finger and thumb, turning it into a gun-shape. “Catch you girls around.”

When he leaves, Gabby places me back on the sink. “Ella, I mean it. We can pretend you’re a robot, and you can sit on my desk during lessons, but if you’re spoken to, you reply generically. Got it?”

I slump over and groan. “Got it.”