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Webmistress's Note: So far, this is the only fic of mine that I have archived here that isn't a "Little Dawn" fic. Well, dare to be different! Note #2: I can't really claim credit for this graphic, the only thing I did was draw some little lines and copy & paste them all over the place. Ah, art! {Don't forget--I did the lovely text, too!} Nonsense mistymidnight Author’s Notes: Thanks for the feedback, guys. I’m basking in the feedback-y goodness! About Tara’s lack of timid-ness: I always saw Tara as the kind of person who really opens up to those she knows well, which is why she was somewhat confident. By Tara-standards, anyway. And I see Tara’s mother as being the same way. This will be more evident in coming chapters, when Tara interacts with her parents and they interact with each other. As for Beth’s bossiness, just wait. It’s coming. I swear to God. Chapter Two “And here,” Bethie said, pointing under the coffee table, “is the ballroom.” Tara glanced at her cousin and then at her cousin’s Barbies. “I—I think the B-Barbies are t-too t-tall to f-fit,” she stuttered, backing off under her cousin’s glare. “They are not too tall to fit,” Bethie said superiorly, “if you go like this.” She bent her Barbie’s legs all the way back so it looked as if she was doing some kind of strange stretch. She hovered the Barbie over the carpet for a minute, before making it hop around under the table. Tara frowned. How can they dance, then? She thought to herself. She didn’t say this to Bethie, though. Bethie was a no-nonsense kind of girl. “W-Where’s my B-Barbie?” Tara asked, searching the pile with her eyes. “Oh. Here you go,” Bethie said carelessly, reaching into the pile and handing Tara a chewed-up Barbie doll. Tara felt tears spring to her eyes. This is what happens when you let Bethie borrow your toys, a little voice in her head said. She called it the Miss Kitty voice, because it was the voice that always made comments to her. The Bethie voice was the voice that always told her what to do. And the Daddy voice was the one that told her she was stupid, a little worthless girl. “Scout got her,” Bethie explained, gently brushing the hair of a much nicer Barbie. “But now you match.” “Match?” “Mm-hm,” Bethie nodded. “Two freaks.” I am not a freak. “Oh,” Tara mumbled. ‘Scout got her’? She probably fed it to Scout. “Now,” Bethie said, beginning to lay out the framework of a perfect day in the perfect life of a perfect Barbie, “Barbie is gonna wake up and Miz Bizarro—that’s your doll—is gonna make her breakfast for her. And then my Barbie will say, ‘Miz Bizarro, I’m going to a pah-tay tonight. Be a dear and make me a beee-utiful dress with sparkles. And Miz Bizarro will say—” “’Yes, Bethie’,” Tara said, using the only words her doll was allowed to say during the games of Barbies. The scenarios were sometimes different, and sometimes Tara’s doll was The Amazing Mrs. Weird instead of Miz Bizarro, but there was always that one constant. Bethie began to move her Barbie about and hum. She changed her Barbie’s clothes four times throughout the game: pajamas to casualwear to her work clothes to eveningwear. Tara’s Barbie remained clothed in the same yellow sock she’d always worn. When the torturous game of Barbies was over, Bethie sent Tara home for lunch. Bethie never liked Tara to stay for lunch. After lunch Bethie’s friends would come over, and they’d all have tea parties. Tara spent the afternoons reading. She was very bright, Mommy always said, her shining star. Daddy said that Tara should be spending more time learning useful things, like how to cook and sew and raise a family. But Tara still read. It was the only thing that kept her from going crazy. “Mommy,” she said as she ate the grilled cheese her mother had made her, “you said we’d do something normal today.” “I did?” her mother asked teasingly, smiling. “Are you sure I said today?” Tara nodded, then paused. “No,” she finally answered, sounding disappointed. “Cheer up, sweetie!” Mommy said. “We have a whole week and a half to ourselves coming up! Daddy and Donny are going to Washington, remember? And Bethie is going to camp. We’ll do something normal, I promise. I’m just planning an extra-special treat for my Tara-pooh-honey-bear.” Tara smiled. No matter how bad her day had been, and no matter how long Bethie made her play Barbies with her, Mommy could always cheer her up. Besides Miss Kitty, Tara didn’t love anyone but Mommy. Okay, done. Hope the A/N at the beginning explained the personalities a little better. More shall be revealed (oooh! Mysterious!) in later chapters. mistymidnight |
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