Ed came rushing out from Hadley’s bedroom. His T-shirt and jeans were covered in brown-violet splotches. Hadley nearly thought it was blood, but then she remembered her puce paint.
“Are you okay?” he shouted.
“It wasn’t me,” she said frantically, though the scream had sounded like a young girl, and had echoed in the hallway all around her.
She and Ed stood staring at each other for a moment, frozen in shock and confusion. Then they heard a second, shriller cry. This time it distinctly came from outside.
Hadley set the dolls on the landing. She and Ed raced to the bottom of the stairs, where her mother almost crashed into them. They all exchanged frantic looks as a third scream split the silence. They scrambled out the door.
Gabe was carrying Isaac across the yard toward the house. He was calling for help while Isaac was crying and holding his leg.
“It’s his ankle!” shouted Gabe. “I think he broke it!”
Ed rushed over and took Isaac in his arms. He tried to calm him with soothing words.
“Keys!” shouted Hadley’s mother.
Hadley hurried back to the house while Ed and her mother ran toward the driveway. Gabe jogged alongside her.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “He followed me into the ravine.”
They were in the car in a flash. Hadley leaped into the back seat beside Isaac, who stretched out his leg. He leaned his head on her shoulder, sobbing. She placed her arm around him and squeezed his hand while Ed tried to comfort him. They drove off, leaving Gabe standing on the lawn looking distraught.
They made it to the doctor’s office in record time. Thankfully he said it was only a sprain, though a pretty bad one. Isaac was going to need to wear a plastic cast until the swelling went down.
When they arrived home, two of the dolls were sitting on the last step. Hadley scooped them in her arms. In all the commotion, she couldn’t recall having set them there. The third doll was still sprawled facedown on the floor where it had fallen. She picked it up and smoothed its hair. It was Isaac’s doll.
“Where did you get those?” asked her mother.
“Granny made them for me.”
Her mother took the Isaac doll and examined it. “They’re lovely. Such detail. Must have taken her a lot of time. You should write her a thank-you note.”
“Mine’s the coolest,” said Isaac, grabbing it. Ed carried him up the stairs toward his bedroom. “I’m going to name him Little Isaac. Can I keep him in my room?”
“No,” said Hadley. She snatched the doll from Isaac’s hands. She’d promised Granny she would take good care of the dolls. Isaac’s had already taken a tumble. She didn’t want anything else happening to it.
Hadley’s mother frowned. “I want to talk to you,” she said. “Privately. Wait for me in your room.”
Hadley lay on her bed in her half-puce room, propped on her elbows, staring at the dolls. She took the eye from her pocket and held it beside each of the faces. It might have belonged to any one of them—only these dolls weren’t missing eyes.
The door creaked open and Hadley sat up. Her mother entered, shut the door, walked calmly toward the bed, and sat down on the edge. Before Hadley had a chance to say a word, her mother blasted her.
“What were you thinking? How could you let Isaac go into the woods without telling me? He’s only six years old. Those trails are like a maze. He could have gotten lost and ended up clear over by Glass Run Road. Or at the creek. Or worse at the river and—oh, I don’t even want to think about it!”
Her words stung. She was right, of course, but couldn’t her mother see how terrible Hadley already felt? Shouldn’t she be trying to make Hadley feel better, not worse? She wanted to apologize, but before she could, a second round of accusations exploded.
“You should have kept an eye on him. Honestly, sometimes you can be so irresponsible.”
Hadley’s jaw quivered. Her cheeks grew hot. Her mother had never spoken to her like this in the past. She wasn’t even giving Hadley a chance to explain how Isaac had run off before she could stop him. She clutched the eye tightly, pressing it so hard against her palm she was sure it would make a permanent dent.
“You should have taken care of him. He’s your little brother.”
Tears pooled in Hadley’s eyes. Her mother’s words stabbed the air between them. “He’s not my brother.”
Her mother stood and walked toward the door. “I’m tired of your selfish, sulky behavior,” she said. “Until you’re ready to apologize and start acting like one of the family, you might as well stay here.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.
Hadley felt as though she’d been slapped across the face. Her mother hadn’t even given her time to explain. She hadn’t even tried to hear Hadley’s side of the story.
Her anger spiraled out of control. Hadley glared at the dolls that looked like Ed and Isaac. “I wish you’d never come into my life,” she hissed.
A gust of icy air blew into the room. She left the bed to shut the window. As she tugged at the sticky wooden frame she felt the blood crackle through the veins in her right hand. She made a tight fist and then released it, stretching her fingers to their limits. The hand felt heavy and hollow—just like her left hand.
Hadley stayed in her room the rest of the evening. She got ready for bed alone. It took her forever to fall asleep. She tossed and turned, burrowing deep into her feathery duvet.
She awoke with a start when her bedroom door opened and then shut.
Still hazy with sleep, she stood and lunged for the door. Who could have snuck into her room? And why?
“Isaac,” she whispered suddenly. He must have come looking for his doll, Little Isaac. He was going to take it and hide it like he’d taken all the other dolls. But this time, she would foil his plan.
With her duvet wrapped around her shoulders, Hadley flew into the hallway. Isaac couldn’t walk quickly with the cast on. His door was wide open. She dashed toward it and poked her head inside.
“Isaac!” she whispered.
There was no answer.
“Stop pretending you’re asleep. I know it was you!”
She searched his room, but the darkness was playing tricks on her. She fumbled for the light switch and a zillion dots swarmed her eyes. Slowly, they adjusted to the bright light, but once they did, her vision narrowed to a fine point. Her knees buckled and her head hit the floor with a tremendous thwack.