she arrived. Lola allowed Mrs. Hampton to take off her coat and then followed her up the winding staircase like a condemned felon on her way to the gallows.
Mrs. Hampton stopped at Charlotte’s door and knocked timidly. “Precious? Your little friend is here.” There was no answer so she swung the door open and stepped inside.
Charlotte was sitting cross-legged on the bed, roughly combing one of her dolls’ hair with long violent strokes. The doll seemed to look at Lola with an expression of abject misery on her shiny plastic face.
Help me
, she seemed to plead silently. Lola, trembling, stepped behind Mrs. Hampton and wrapped her fingers in the woman’s skirt.
“I want cake,” Charlotte said. She sat with her neck thrust forward and her shoulders rounded up under her ears, glaring at her mother and Lola.
Mrs. Hampton laughed nervously. “Now, darling, you know what the doctor said about sweets.” She unwrapped Lola’s fingers from her skirt and gave her a gentle push into the room.
Charlotte stopped brushing. She squinted her eyes and pushed out her lower lip. “I want cake.”
Mrs. Hampton’s little hands fluttered around her face like a flock of panicked starlings. “Oh, look, sweetness, at the lovely dress Lola has on! Would you like me to take you shopping later? Would you like mommy to buy you a pretty new dress just like the one your little friend has on?”
“Cake,” Charlotte said.
“Let me check with Beatrice and see what she has in the kitchen,” Mrs. Hampton said brightly. She went out, swiftly closing the door behind her.Lola would have followed her but Charlotte’s eyes had shifted to her now and held her, spellbound, like a mouse hypnotized by a snake.
“Sit over there,” she said pointing with the brush and indicating a small wooden chair in the corner, “until I finish with Esmerelda’s hair.”
“Okay,” Lola said, sitting down.
She resumed her terrible grooming of the doll, tearing out great clumps of silky hair that clung to the bristles of the brush like the fur of slaughtered animals. The sound was not unlike that of a plant having its roots ripped from heavy soil. Lola could feel each stroke in the pit of her stomach. Charlotte stuck the tip of her pink tongue between her large teeth as she worked. After a minute she stopped and looked slyly at Lola. “You wanna see something?” she asked and before Lola could answer she had pushed Esmerelda facedown in her lap and pulled down her panties. Several small black craters speckled the doll’s glistening buttocks.
“She’s been very naughty,” Charlotte said. “She had to be punished.”
“Here,” Lola said, pulling the bag of candy from her pocket and holding it out to Charlotte.
Without a word the girl slid down from the bed and crossed the room. She snatched the bag from Lola and ripped it open, pouring a handful of jelly beans into her sweaty palm and then tossing them one by one into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks plumped. “Next time bring chocolate,” she said.
“Okay,” Lola said.
Charlotte poked through the bag with a chubby finger, pulling out the black jelly beans. She closed them up in a tight fist and then held her hand out to Lola, opening the fingers slowly to reveal a black mass like a lump of coal in the palm of her hand.
“Eat this,” Charlotte said.
“No, thank you,” Lola said politely. “I don’t like licorice.”
“Eat it.”
“Okay,” Lola said.
Later they played Bad Barbie, and when Charlotte had tired of this they went on to Mean Librarian, Bad Orphanage, Evil Schoolteacher, and Queen and Slave. In all the games Charlotte was the stern authority figure and Lola her willing minion. During Queen and Slave Charlotte tied Lola’s hands together with a belt and led her around the sprawling room, stopping finally at a small half-door under the eaves. The door had a sliding bolt and led to a long dark crawl space filled with discarded toys
Mrs. Hampton stopped at Charlotte’s door and knocked timidly. “Precious? Your little friend is here.” There was no answer so she swung the door open and stepped inside.
Charlotte was sitting cross-legged on the bed, roughly combing one of her dolls’ hair with long violent strokes. The doll seemed to look at Lola with an expression of abject misery on her shiny plastic face.
Help me
, she seemed to plead silently. Lola, trembling, stepped behind Mrs. Hampton and wrapped her fingers in the woman’s skirt.
“I want cake,” Charlotte said. She sat with her neck thrust forward and her shoulders rounded up under her ears, glaring at her mother and Lola.
Mrs. Hampton laughed nervously. “Now, darling, you know what the doctor said about sweets.” She unwrapped Lola’s fingers from her skirt and gave her a gentle push into the room.
Charlotte stopped brushing. She squinted her eyes and pushed out her lower lip. “I want cake.”
Mrs. Hampton’s little hands fluttered around her face like a flock of panicked starlings. “Oh, look, sweetness, at the lovely dress Lola has on! Would you like me to take you shopping later? Would you like mommy to buy you a pretty new dress just like the one your little friend has on?”
“Cake,” Charlotte said.
“Let me check with Beatrice and see what she has in the kitchen,” Mrs. Hampton said brightly. She went out, swiftly closing the door behind her.Lola would have followed her but Charlotte’s eyes had shifted to her now and held her, spellbound, like a mouse hypnotized by a snake.
“Sit over there,” she said pointing with the brush and indicating a small wooden chair in the corner, “until I finish with Esmerelda’s hair.”
“Okay,” Lola said, sitting down.
She resumed her terrible grooming of the doll, tearing out great clumps of silky hair that clung to the bristles of the brush like the fur of slaughtered animals. The sound was not unlike that of a plant having its roots ripped from heavy soil. Lola could feel each stroke in the pit of her stomach. Charlotte stuck the tip of her pink tongue between her large teeth as she worked. After a minute she stopped and looked slyly at Lola. “You wanna see something?” she asked and before Lola could answer she had pushed Esmerelda facedown in her lap and pulled down her panties. Several small black craters speckled the doll’s glistening buttocks.
“She’s been very naughty,” Charlotte said. “She had to be punished.”
“Here,” Lola said, pulling the bag of candy from her pocket and holding it out to Charlotte.
Without a word the girl slid down from the bed and crossed the room. She snatched the bag from Lola and ripped it open, pouring a handful of jelly beans into her sweaty palm and then tossing them one by one into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks plumped. “Next time bring chocolate,” she said.
“Okay,” Lola said.
Charlotte poked through the bag with a chubby finger, pulling out the black jelly beans. She closed them up in a tight fist and then held her hand out to Lola, opening the fingers slowly to reveal a black mass like a lump of coal in the palm of her hand.
“Eat this,” Charlotte said.
“No, thank you,” Lola said politely. “I don’t like licorice.”
“Eat it.”
“Okay,” Lola said.
Later they played Bad Barbie, and when Charlotte had tired of this they went on to Mean Librarian, Bad Orphanage, Evil Schoolteacher, and Queen and Slave. In all the games Charlotte was the stern authority figure and Lola her willing minion. During Queen and Slave Charlotte tied Lola’s hands together with a belt and led her around the sprawling room, stopping finally at a small half-door under the eaves. The door had a sliding bolt and led to a long dark crawl space filled with discarded toys
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