The Friendship Doll Read Online Free Page B

mere inches from the floor. Bunny held her breath and let it drop. Even from that height, the clatter was sufficiently and deliciously loud. She stood, repocketing her prize.
    Upright again, she found her eyes drawn back to the doll’s. Fringed with dark lashes, they were as dark as the bark of the elm trees lining Bunny’s street. But it wasn’t simply the color—so different from her own green eyes—that caught her. It was silly, really. This was a doll, after all! But Bunny couldn’t avoid the look of disapproval in those eyes. It was almost as if the doll knew what she had planned. Bunny stuck her tongue out. So there!
    The doll glared back. Bunny stepped closer. Two could play at this game. “Mother says ‘pretty is as pretty does,’ ”she told the doll. “Maybe they don’t teach that where you come from.” She lifted her head, imitating Winnifred’s told-you-so manner.
    This time when she looked at the doll, she saw something else in those eyes, something that felt unpleasantly familiar.

    Well, this child is pretty enough, though I much prefer my silky straight hair to those horrible curls. And I can see that her hands are clean. A small blessing.
    I gaze back at the child and catch her in the act of sticking out her tongue. Little wretch!
    Hmm. Those green eyes of hers are intriguing. The color of a rice paddy in the early spring. As I study those round American eyes, I see something else veiled behind the boldness and conceit.
    Miss Japan, look at that girl’s eyes. Tell me what you see
.
    I see spring rice fields
.
    I can sense Miss Japan’s impatience.
    But it matters not what I see. It is what you see that is important
.
    I continue to study the girl. How odd that Miss Japan, usually so perceptive, can’t see what I do: loneliness. A vision, like a painting on a silk fan, unfolds in the air in front of me. A vision of this child—at school, at play, at home—with others around her, but always alone.

The Best-Laid Plans
    It was almost as if the doll’s eyes were the two lenses of a stereoscope, only instead of a scene from a European cathedral, Bunny saw a scene from school. One that had happened the other day in the cloakroom. The girls were hanging up their things after a nature walk in Central Park. Mean-spirited Clemmy Moore was buzzing around, making her usual stinging comments. She fluttered in front of Belle. “So how is your father doing in the hospital, dear Belle?”
    Bunny’s coat hook was next to Belle’s. She couldn’t help but notice the stricken look on Belle’s face. The look passed quickly and Belle’s face was once again unreadable. “He’s much better, thank you,” she answered tightly.
    “Father says it’s such a shame.” Clemmy fluffed her curls in the cloakroom mirror. “But then, many weak men can’t handle their drink.”
    Bunny was stunned. Certainly there had been rumors around town about Belle’s father. But to throw them up at her, here, in front of all the other girls … Bunny wouldn’t have thought even Clemmy could sink so low. Without thinking, Bunny placed her hand on Belle’s arm. “Don’t listen to her.”
    Belle didn’t move for a second. Then she turned. “Please remove your hand,” she’d said, shaking Bunny off. “I don’t need any help from a Dumb Dora like you.” She’d turned on the toes of her perfect white boots and stomped back into the classroom.
    It was so like Belle, Bunny hadn’t given the episode another thought.
    Until now. Why would she think of it now?

    I feel a twinge inside my muslin chest, under the left side of my kimono. Since the day I was created, I have never had a moment of feeling unwell. What is causing this pain now?
    I have heard it does hurt a bit
, Miss Japan comforts me.
    What does?
I ask.
    Being awakened
.
    What do I do to make it stop?
    But Miss Japan gives no answer.
    The ache in my chest makes me feel so strange. Snippets of Master Tatsuhiko’s words swirl in my head. “Bad and good are