Tiffany wasn’t one to get disturbed over her little sister’s doll dilemmas. Certainly, Ginnie would eventually find what she lost. Particularly since Tiffany had to deal with a more pressing urgency: boys. They were more compelling, complex and not to be ignored.
Especially him. With his perpetually tousled hair and lopsided grin. Jake had finally texted. “Movie night?” Her heart did a fluttery thing.
She glanced at the clock: 7:15. Panic bloomed. What to wear? Her closet resembled a chaotic battlefield.
Her little sister’s wails, echoing from the living room, were a distant, irritating hum. Tiffany yelled, “Ginnie, just look harder!”
Sudden inspiration: Jake liked that faded denim jacket, the one with the embroidered roses. But where was it? She tore through her closet with a rising sense of dread.
“Wait.” She had a realization. “Hadn’t Ginnie…?”
She launched down the stairs into the living room. “Did you see my denim jacket?” Ginnie, eyes red and puffy, pointed to a makeshift dollhouse under the coffee table. Inside, nestled amongst the plastic furniture, was the jacket, newly adorned with splattered baby powder and what appeared to be dried fruit juice. It was doing time as an oversized bed and wrap for Ginnie’s favorite doll, which was now missing an arm.
Tiffany shrieked, “You used my jacket…?”
Ginnie burst into fresh tears. “It was on the couch and Sally was hurting.”
Jake buzzed again: “?”
Ginnie added, “It was an emergency!”
Tiffany glanced at the phone, her sobbing sister, and the crumbled jacket. The complex, compelling world of boys faded, replaced by the simple, undeniable reality of a little sister’s heartbreak.
“Okay, Ginnie,” sinking to her knees, “let’s find Sally’s arm.”
by George Alger
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