Page 3 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Disappointment mars his features and his brows knit together as if I’ve personally wounded him. I instantly feel horrible and fear he will take back his deal, leaving Macy angry and upset.

“I mean, uh…Daddy doesn’t want us taking rides from anyone.”

His eyes widen with understanding. “I’m not anyone. I’m Benny.”

“Little girl wants a doll?” a deep voice sings behind me. A chill, despite the August heat, creeps up my spine. The scent of alcohol and chewing tobacco suffocates me. “Maybe I should buy one for them both. But what would I get in return?” The man from before has come back, and this time, there’s no shame on his face or in his suggestion.

Benny snaps his attention to the man behind me and glares. I’m momentarily stunned by his sudden fierceness and step closer to Macy. “Back the hell away, prick, before I call the police on your pedophile ass.”

“Yeah, fuck off, faggot,” the man grunts before stomping off.

Moments earlier, I worried Benny was a threat. Now, I realize he’s simply a nice guy, wanting a girl to have her doll and warning off predators. Daddy would want to meet the man who scared away a monster.

“Actually,” I tell him, my voice brave, “we’ll help you. Maybe Daddy will buy me that one.” I point to a boy porcelain doll with honey-colored eyes like Benny and messy brown hair.

Benny grins. “You’ve got yourself a deal, little doll.”

“Last box,” Benny says with a grunt as he heaves it into the back of his tan, aging van. This must be where all those muscles tensing in his arms came from. These boxes are heavy. Macy and I couldn’t even lift one together, but we were good help packing them up.

“Now we can meet your pops and I can try to talk him into two dolls. Does your momma like dolls?”

Macy giggles as he closes the back doors of the van. “She plays Barbie’s with me sometimes.”

Benny flashes her a smile before opening the side door. It rattles on its hinges. “I like your momma already.” His hand motions inside the vehicle.

“I can sit up front,” I tell him.

A flicker of emotion passes over his features before he hardens his gaze. “Actually, the hinges on the passenger side door are rusted shut. Damn door might fall off if we open it. You said you live close by. I’ll crank up the AC. You’ll be fine in the back and we wouldn’t want this little doll to be back here on her own.” He ruffles Macy’s hair and she beams up at him.

I glance nervously at my sister, but she’s already climbing into the back of the van.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should just call our parents from the payphone. I really don’t think Daddy would like us riding with you.”

When he starts laughing at me, I turn beet red. “Y-You think I would do something? Like that man earlier? What are you? Twelve?” At this, he snorts. “I’m not into little kids. Trust me.”

Anger wells inside me. “I’m fourteen, and I’m not a little kid!” I exclaim, folding my arms in defiance.

“Fourteen?” he whispers, and something akin to disappointment clouds his features. Before I can dwell on the hope he possibly wanted me to be older, he laughs and shrugs.

Maybe I was wrong about the disappointment.

Finally tampering down his laughter, he holds his palms up in defense. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not a little kid. But little kid or not, I’m not interested in you, short stuff. I typically go for girls with boobs.”

Now I’m just annoyed and humiliated. I’ve been ogling him this entire time and he just sees me as a child. Not that I wanted anything else, but it still pains me a little. With a huff, I climb in to the backseat and cross my arms over my flat chest. “Just take us home.”

By the time he climbs in and gets out onto the main road, his humor is gone. He messes with an ice chest in the front seat beside him and retrieves a bottle of water.

“Thirsty?”

God yes.

Macy snatches it out of his hand and greedily gulps down over half the bottle before I steal it from her. The cold moisture seeping down the bottle feels incredible in my hot palm. I polish the rest off within seconds and rub the cold plastic over my neck to steal the remaining frost from the bottle.

“Aren’t you going to ask us where we live?” I question after several minutes of driving. He hasn’t spoken much at all and that easy smile that once graced his lips is now stoic. His eyes keep tracking me in the overhead mirror. It’s hot and stuffy in the back of the van, despite his promise of AC, and I feel lightheaded. My eyes swimming and mind woozy, I reach toward the door handle for stability and grab air…where’s the handle? When I glance over at Macy, her head lolls to the side and she curls into the upholstery to get comfortable.

“You already told me,” he says, his voice distant.

My eyelids feel heavy and I struggle to keep them open. This heat is really starting to affect me. “I didn’t tell you…” Every muscle in my body seems to weaken. My heart thunders in my chest, but I feel powerless to do anything about it. “Take us home,” I demand in a slur.

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