Page 25 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Her attitude comes from how badly she wants the only dog she’s gonna get.
She jumps off the swing, all excited and giddy, with the biggest gappy smile on her face, and the clown bends to her height.
“It’s really for me?”
He nods rapidly, sending his dirty green hair everywhere.
“Thank you. I love it. I always wanted a poodle. A pink one, too.”
Of course, the balloon is pink.
Something awful twists in my stomach—a bad feeling. I can almost feel the crack beneath my sneaker again as I stop entirely.
We shouldn’t be here. Not with a stranger. Mom would be worried if she knew, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even know this playground exists. She’s not even home. She and Dad had to drive into the next town to speak to an electrician about more issues at the house. Dad, who would be so angry that I let Dollie get so close to this clown, close enough that she is brushing the hair from his shocking white face.
“Hey!” I grip her around the wrist, my fingers closing and pinching her skin as I drag her back. “Don’t touch him.”
“You’re hurting me.” I let her go as her tiny fist slams into my chest.
She moves away, three tiny steps.
Lucky number three,I tell myself.We’ll be okay.
The clown’s face tells me otherwise. His big red smile pulled down into a sad expression.
“I’m sorry, Dollie. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Tiny fingers rub at her wrist. The blue paint Mom did on her nails last night clashes with her coat. It’s the exact same color as the clown’s pants.
“Right, you have your balloon. Say thank you, and let’s go home.” I pull both backpacks from the dirt, slinging one over each arm. “Come on. Let’s go home.” Waiting for her to agree, I stretch my hand out to her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing the little knotted nose. “Maybe we’ll just have five more minutes?”
I close my fingers around Dollie’s small hand, and she doesn’t resist because I resort to guilt-tripping. “Duggan will be waiting. Don’t you want to show him your new dog?”
Blonde curls bounce as she nods.
One step, two steps, she moves with me from the creepy fucker in clown makeup. We both come to a standstill, and my gaze drifts back, along with Dollie’s, discovering that the clown has a hold of her wrist.
A gloved finger waves back and forth. A tiny red dot on the tip almost hypnotizes me.
Is that blood?
“Are you going so soon?” His voice is shrill and haunting, it stays thick in my ears and brings a pressure to my throat that can barely be swallowed down.
“Yes, we have to. Can you let my sister go?”
I never call her that.
“But I gave you a balloon. Don’t you like it?” He smiles at Dollie, and yellow teeth appear in his mouth.
“I do. I love it. Do I have to give it back?”
The clown shakes his head, and his teeth are hidden by a new smile. “I gave you that because I want to be your friend. Can we be friends, Dollie?”
“Don’t call her that.” Only I call her that.
“Is that not your name?”
