Page 7 of The Black Flamingo

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But she got it wrong.

It’s not the Goddess

but I hug her anyway.

“Thank you, Mummy.”

This Barbie doesn’t have long, dark, curly hair

or dark eyes like Mummy’s,

like the Goddess.

I decide to name my doll Phoebe.

Phoebe looks like Emily.

I don’t cut Phoebe’s long, blonde hair

or pull off her head or any of her limbs

like Emily would.

Phoebe is not

the Barbie I wanted

but she’s the Barbie I’ve got,

and I decide to take care of her.

Uncle B arrives in his black BMW

to pick me up to take me to Granny B’s

for Christmas dinner with my dad

and the rest of the Brown family.

As I leave, Mummy grabs my shoulders

and turns me around, smiles,

and puts out her hand. “Michael, please

can you leave Phoebe here?

I need her to help me clean up.”

It’s only a ten-minute drive in Uncle’s BMW

but it feels alien.

I wish Mummy was coming with us.

I’m happy when we arrive, because the family

cheer and I think it must be for me.

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