Tonight the Streets Are Ours

She also got a free trip to New York City with her mother to visit the Just Like Me Dolls flagship store once the Arden Doll had gone on sale. It was the first—and wound up being the only—trip that was “just us girls,” as Arden’s mom put it. Going on this trip without her father or Roman made Arden feel delightfully grown-up.

She had never been to New York before, and she didn’t like it at all. The neon lights outside her twenty-first-floor hotel room windows kept her awake at night, and it seemed like every taxi driver was hell-bent on running over not just anybody, but her specifically.

But she loved the Just Like Me Dolls Store.

It was right on Fifth Avenue, nestled amongst the fancy department stores and jewelers, like Tiffany, which Arden recognized from her mother’s favorite movie. Much like the streets outside, it was a madhouse inside Just Like Me Dolls. The difference was that this madhouse was caused by hundreds of girls striding purposefully through the store, each trailed by at least one adult, sometimes by a full family, toting coats and bags and matching doll-and-girl clothing sets and tea party sets. Arden’s mother described it as the stock exchange floor of elementary school girls, since they were all marching around shouting, “Buy! Buy!” at their minions.

The Arden Doll was in a Plexiglas display, lined up with the dolls based on real girls of past years. Arden pressed her nose to the glass, as if trying to get closer to her doll. But even there in person, at the Just Like Me Dolls Store itself, nobody looked at the doll and the girl and put two and two together. Not one of the other children or their parents said, “Hey, you both have peach-colored skin and light brown hair and hazel eyes! You must be the real Arden!”

But that was okay, too. Arden didn’t need any of these strangers to know that doll was her. She knew.

She looked at all the past years’ dolls. Each one had a little placard that summed up her identity in a short phrase. There was Tabitha, of course, though without the dirt stains of Arden’s version. Tabitha’s placard said she was “graceful and inspiring.” The Jenny Doll was “brave and committed.” Katelyn was “quick-witted and fun-loving.” But the Arden Doll’s placard described her in this way:

“Arden is recklessly loyal.”

Arden looked into her doll’s eyes and knew without a doubt that her identity was the best one of all.

For a while there was talk of making a Lindsey friend doll, too, since Lindsey’s character was such a big hit in the Arden stories. But within a few months, the idea was dropped, and the Just Like Me Dolls Company moved on to picking the girl of the next year. Lindsey didn’t seem to mind. Arden had given her a free vacation to Disney World. And Lindsey had given Arden the opportunity to be a doll.

To both girls, this trade-off seemed more than fair.





Arden gets more than she bargained for

Four hours had passed since Arden had been called into Principal Vanderpool’s office. Four hours since the principal asked her to explain the baggie of marijuana in her locker. Four hours since she looked him square in the eyes and admitted it: yes, those drugs were hers. Yes, she was guilty.

Now they were both waiting for Arden’s father to show up and escort her home. A principal can’t just release a known drug user into the world, of course. It can’t be done. There are protocols.

When the school day ended, Lindsey came flying into the reception area outside Vanderpool’s office, where Arden was sitting, reading a book under Mr. Winchell’s watchful eye.

“Oh my God,” Lindsey said, flinging herself onto a plastic chair beside Arden’s. “I am so, so, so—”

“I’ll be okay,” Arden cut in, casting an eye toward the eavesdropping secretary. “It’s my fault. I’m the total idiot who decided to bring drugs into school. I’ll bear the consequences.”

Lindsey paused. “Are you kidding?” she asked.

Arden shook her head. That was what she had told their principal. Whether he believed her, given her squeaky-clean record, was beside the point. All the evidence pointed toward her. He had a crime, he had a confession, justice would be done.