“I am five minutes away from saying fuck it and setting it on fire.”
“I’m already bloody there.”
Their high school’s trying to teach them about the safety of protected sex, preventing unwanted pregnancies and STDs, which is fine with her, it’s good to know this stuff. But then they pair the seniors and juniors and give each pair a frikin baby doll, telling them to take care of it for a week like they were its parents and she is very much done with the American educational system.
She’s been partnered off with a senior she’s never talked to before but now she regrets ever meeting her. She‘s a pain in her ass and everytime she hears one of her terrible puns, she conveniently happens to reach her house a few hours later than she was expected, leaving that devil of a doll with her even longer. This time she’s reached her house at 10 at night and she‘s not pleased. But the baby’s less pleased. It’s been crying nonstop since she arrived and sleep deprived, her parents told them to go down to the basement, coming out only when the baby stopped crying. They agreed, feeling guilty that this doll had waken up the whole household.
It took more time than it should have to go down, her making a big fuss over ghosts or something like that, she stopped paying attention when she started whining about some movie she thinks it was. With her and the doll making such a big bloody fuss, her brain short-circuited. She dropped the baby over the banister, it landing on the stone cold floor. (She was going to make an excellent mother one day.) She took her by the collar, dragging her down the stairs, threatening to kick her if she made another sound. Thankfully she shut up.
They’re sitting on the couch now, the big purple one against the wall the stairs are facing. It’s a soft couch but the company’s absolute crap. The doll’s in her lap and she‘s glaring at it, clearly mentally willing it to shut up. She’s sitting with her feet tucked up under her, all courtesy forgotten 15 minutes into what can only be called horrendous Hitler-style torture. They’ve been in the somehow damp, unused basement freezing their asses off for atleast an hour now and it’s a school night. She already has terrible dark circles and with another sleepless night on top of that, she was going to look possessed.
She‘s cursing under her breath, she can’t hear her but she can see her lips moving, the doll hasn’t shut up. She wonders how everyone upstairs is sleeping. They’re probably not though. It’s nearly impossible.
She doesn’t look up, she probably can’t hear her, despite the barely-any distance between them.
“He-y!” She repeats, a little louder, her voice hitching louder mid-word.
She looks up, her normally bright eyes weary, the skin under her eyes a shade darker than the rest of her.”What.” She‘s exhausted, they both are and this doll doesn’t sound like it’s gonna quit any time soon. She needs to get home fast or her dad’s going to kill her, her curfew’s 11 pm and her house is at least 30 minutes away from hers, and she’s already in his bad books.
“Is there an Off switch?”
She smiles at her, a radiant smile that changes her in a second and she finally understands why so many people go weak at their knees. She turns the doll around, its shrill cry muffled in the fabric of her Sesame Street pyjama pants. (They don’t even have secrets anymore.) She pulls its shirt up, searching for a switch and she leans forward. She looks up, surprised at the sudden proximity and she jumps back, her hand at her chest. Holy bloody shit. Her heart’s racing and she groans at her.”Ugh, dude, no. You gave me a frikin heart attack.”
“Sorry, it’s just that-” Her hand’s fluttering in the air, trying to find a suitable excuse and her eyes are blown wide. She’s not sure what’s happening, she thinks she‘s having a seizure or something.
“Um, riiiight.”She drags the word out, trying to diffuse the sudden awkwardness.
She grabs the doll, making sure to keep it facedown and smothers it in her lap. She‘s cautiously leaning forward, making sure to keep some distance between them. She’s honestly not very sure what’s happening, and it’s getting steadily more awkward. Her hand’s roaming its back, she’s trying to find a switch, a button or something. Her fingers brush against something protruding out of the cold plastic skin and her face lights up. All she can think of is her comfy bed and her pillows and sleep. She presses the button and the room floods with heavenly silence. She throws the baby on the ground, the least of her worries and relaxes against the couch. Next to her, she‘s sighing with relief, her eyes closed. She closes her eyes, she could use a small nap. It’s quiet and perfect and it’s the most comfortable she’s been in quite some time.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”