Chapter 11
Every time I opened the door to my bedroom, I was sure I’d find the place in disarray, but nothing was ever askew in the slightest. Not one single item.
As I fell asleep each night, I even went so far as to tell Yvette about Tiffany. Maybe I was secretly trying to get Yvette riled up. Maybe I figured if she became furious enough, she’d do something really fierce. But no. Nothing.
Friday night, as we all roasted marshmallows around fire pit out back, I gazed at the outline of Yvette’s curly hair in my bedroom window. She was just a doll, just painted porcelain and a dress. Realistically, there wasn’t much difference between Yvette and a teapot, or a dinner plate. She was just a thing. There was nothing unusual about her, nothing evil. How easily I’d led myself to bel
