They Never Picked Up My Calls, So I Made Dolls That Answer novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Fifteen Ninety
Elsie scores a 1590, rushes home to a party for her sister's 1450, refuses to be shut out of her own future and sets down her key, then finds Gracie's college essay about how Elsie broke her, annotated in Mom's handwriting.
The number came up on my phone at 7:02 in the morning.
1590.
I read it four times, then ran across the studio in my socks.
"Mom! Dad! I got a fifteen ninety!"
Nobody answered.
Four cloth dolls sat in a row on my couch.
Mom in her pearl cardigan. Dad in his gray suit. My brother Drew with his wire glasses.
And Colby Farrington, the boy from the next penthouse, with yellow yarn hair.
I'd sewn them myself, stitch by stitch, out of an old pillowcase and four shirts from the thrift store.
Their button eyes stared at me.
They'd heard every good thing that happened to me this year.
They'd heard every bad thing too.
I sat down on the floor in front of them.
"Best schools back East," I told them. "I can be near Drew. I can be near Colby."
The air conditioner rattled overhead and blew warm air on my neck.
A year ago this month, my little sister Gracie climbed onto her bedroom windowsill nineteen floors up.
She sat there with her legs dangling until Mom pulled her back in.
Mom said it was my fault.
My grades were the reason, she said. Gracie couldn't keep up with me, and it was breaking her.
So they moved me out.
Not Gracie. Me.
They put me in a $700 studio in an old brick building in central Phoenix, with a mattress and a hot plate.
"A year at most," Mom said in the doorway, looking at the water stain on the ceiling. "There's no point paying for anything nicer."
"Once the SAT is over, we'll bring you home."
The first night, the drunk next door got the wrong door and pounded on mine for an hour.
I hid under the blanket and didn't make a sound.
I called Mom. I called Dad. I called Drew in Boston and Colby in Boston.
Over and over.
Nobody picked up.
At dawn Mom finally texted.
"Stop calling. Seeing your number on the screen upsets Gracie."
That week I bought the pillowcase and the shirts.
I stopped calling. I talked to the dolls instead.
Now I reached out to put them in the closet.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Mom.
"Elsie, come home tonight. We need to discuss your college applications."
I stared at the word.
Home.
The bus took forty minutes.
For the first time in my life I paid for a rideshare.
The elevator opened straight into the penthouse, the way it always had.
The living room was full of laughter and the smell of Mom's lemon cake.
Mom, Dad, Drew, home for fall break, and Colby, home with him.
Gracie sat in the middle of the white sofa with four wrapped gifts on her lap.
Mom was stroking her hair.
"My brilliant girl. A fourteen fifty! You can go East too, sweetheart. Anywhere you want."
Drew laughed. "She's coming to my school. Best engineering program in the country. I taught her every math problem on FaceTime."
"No way," Colby said. "I fixed her reading section. She's coming to my school."
They argued over her like she was the last ticket to something.
I stood in the entryway with my backpack on.
Colby saw me first.
"Oh. Els. Hey."
The room went quiet.
Dad cleared his throat. Drew looked at his phone.
Gracie pulled the gifts closer.
"I got a fifteen ninety," I said.
Mom's smile didn't move.
"That's nice. Sit down, Elsie. This is about your applications."
I sat on the edge of the armchair.
Mom folded her hands.
"You'll apply in-state. The university in Tempe. With your score you'll get a scholarship there."
"And I'll live where?"
"Where you are. It's working."
"It's not working. The air conditioner blows hot."
Dad sighed. "Don't start."
Mom kept going.
"Gracie's going East. Her therapist says she can't be on the same campus as you. And Grandma's college fund will cover her tuition."
Grandma left that fund to "my girls."
Both of us.
"Grandma's fund is half mine," I said.
"You'll have scholarships," Mom said. "Gracie needs it more."
I looked at Colby.
He'd held my hand at Grandma's funeral. He'd promised me Boston.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Honestly, Els, it's better for Gracie. You're strong. You'll be fine anywhere."
Gracie's eyes filled.
"I'm sorry, Elsie," she whispered. "I just can't be around you yet."
Mom put an arm around her and gave me a look.
I stood up.
"No."
Mom blinked.
"I'm applying to Drew's school. Early action. And anywhere else I want."
"With what money?" Dad said.
"Then I'll do it without yours."
I took my house key off my ring.
The little brass key I'd carried for a whole year, waiting to use.
I set it on top of Gracie's biggest gift.
Nobody said a word.
"I'm getting Grandma's sewing tin," I said. "Then I'm going."
My old room was Gracie's study now.
My boxes were stacked in the corner.
The blue tin with the roses on the lid sat on top, right where I'd left it.
I picked it up.
Then I saw the desk.
A printed essay lay there under a crystal paperweight.
The title was in bold.
"The Year My Sister Broke Me." By Gracie Calvert.
My name was in the first line.
Red pen ran all down the margins.
I knew that handwriting. It signed my report cards for twelve years.
At the bottom of page one, Mom had written in neat red letters:
"More about the window. Admissions loves a survivor."
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