When Sophie Ifson asks me to come to spend the weekend at her country house, just me and her, and both Mom and Mama say yes, I know that I am on my way to becoming a big girl.
“I’m not your baby anymore,” I say to Mama.
“I guess you are growing up, Margaret,” Mama says.
“We’d better get you a suitcase now that you are going to be a traveler,” Mom says.
“And some new pajamas,” I say. “Purple ones with stars on them.”
“OK,” Mama laughs.
“You’ll probably see lots of stars when you are in the country,” Mom says. “That’s something that we don’t get to see much of in the city.”
“I’ll look at them for you,” I say.
“Yes,” Mom says. “Don’t forget to wish on one.”
It’s fun to go to the store and get new things. A new toothbrush. A travel-size shampoo. My new purple pajamas. And a brand new mini-suitcase just for me. It’s red with the picture of a ladybug on it.
Mama helps me to pack so that I’m sure not to forget anything. I pick out some socks. Two t-shirts. A pair of pants. A pair of shorts. My silver fairy dress-up dress. A tiara. A cozy sweater. And a knit hat.
Mom pokes her head into the door to check in on us.
“How’s it going in here?” she asks.
“Pretty good,” Mama says.
“I think I’ve got all I need,” I say.
“I just got off the phone with Sophie’s parents,” Mom says. “They wanted me to remind you to bring a doll.”
“OK,” Mama says, reaching for Fred The Lizard Alien who is resting on the bed.
“Not that doll, Mama,” I say.
“Well then, go pick one quickly,” she says. “It’s almost time to go.”
I look over at my toy shelves. They are overflowing. I have so many dolls, how can I choose just one to bring for the whole weekend? Suddenly I don’t feel so good. My stomach hurts.
I have big dolls. Little dolls. Girl dolls. Boy dolls. Dolls in dresses. Dolls in pants. Dolls with curly hair. Dolls with short hair. Dolls who cry. Dolls who eat. Baby dolls and Barbie dolls. Action figures and Little People.
How could I ever choose just one? I stare at my shelf. Then, I try to imagine what kind of games Sophie and I will play all weekend so I can figure out which doll will be the best doll to bring.
“Come on, Margaret,” Mama said. “Sophie’s dad will be here soon to pick you up.”
Mama puts her hand on my shoulders and steers me toward a toy shelf. First I pick up my Ballerina Barbie, because I knew that Sophie likes ballet.
“Good choice,” Mama says.
But is it? I’m not sure. Maybe we’ll have a tea party?
I put Ballerina Barbie down on the bed and pick up Curly Carla. She has curly hair and a bonnet and looks like she’d be right at home at a tea party.
“Curly Carla is nice, too,” Mama says.
But what if we play that we are in outer space? Or in a fairy forest? Or fighting a super villains? I pick up my RoboRanger Astronaut, my Elsa the Elven Warrior and my SuperLady action figures. These dolls would be perfect for adventure times.
I remember that Sophie has a pretend kitchen at her apartment in the city. So maybe she has one in the country? We might make fake cakes and feed our babies. I pull down Greta and her little bottles and diaper bag.
I like to play Animal Hospital. So when Sophie said doll, she might have meant stuffed animal. After all, a stuffed animal is a kind of doll, too. I throw my stuffed monkey onto my bed.
“I’d better bring my stethoscope, too,” I say going to my toy box and getting out my doctor’s kit. In there I find my Action Kate Doll, so I take her out along with my cape and cowl.
“Margaret,” Mama says. “You can only bring one doll.”
“But I might need all of these, Mama,” I say. But even I know, as I look at them lying on the bed, that they won’t all fit into my new red suitcase with the picture of the ladybug on it.
“You’re going to have to make a choice,” Mama says.
I press my lips together. This is my first weekend sleepover. I want it to be perfect.
“But what if I bring the wrong doll?” I think.
I feel myself start to tremble a little bit. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I blink a lot of times to try to make them go away. I don’t want to cry in case Mama changes her mind about me going away with Sophie. I don’t want her to say that I am too young to go.
I am a big girl now. So I have to be a big girl. I have to make a choice.
Mom sticks her head back into my room.
“Let’s go!” she says. “Sophie and her dad are here!”
I look back at the big pile of dolls on my bed. I close my eyes and thrust my hand into the pile and grab one. I throw it into my suitcase sight unseen just as Mama zips it up.
Mom takes the suitcase and brings me downstairs where the car is waiting.
“Have a great time,” Mama says and kisses me on my head goodbye.
“Call me if anything comes up,” Mom says. “Like an emergency.”
“I will,” I say. But I feel distracted. Worried. I am worried that I picked the wrong doll to bring to Sophie’s. And if it’s the wrong doll, then maybe Sophie won’t want to be my friend anymore.
“Everything OK?” Mom asks. “You look kind of funny. Like something is wrong.”
“No,” I say. “Everything is alright.”
I want to tell her that I might have to switch my doll.
“You don’t have to go, Margaret, if you don’t want to. Maybe you are still too young?” she says.
That makes me feel mad. Almost mad enough to stamp my foot. But I don’t want to get in trouble for being sassy. So I take a great big, deep breath. I hope that the doll that I picked is going to be the right doll.
“I am old enough.” I say. “I want to go.”
“OK,” Mom says. “I hope you have a great time.”
“I will,” I say. But I’m not one hundred percent certain.
“I love you,” she says, and she kisses me on the forehead. I open the back door of the car and I climb in. Sophie smiles at me.
“We’re going to have so much fun!” Sophie says. “I have a lot of plans for us.”
“I’m so excited,” I say. Part of me is telling the truth. And part of me is lying.
The drive takes a few hours. While Sophie’s dad tells me and Sophie all the rules for the weekend, I look out of the window of the car and watch as the city disappears and the country emerges. Everything goes from gray sidewalks to green fields and from tall buildings to tall mountains. Then, after what seems like forever, we pull onto a long dirt driveway.
“This is our country house,” Sophie says when we arrive at a little green cottage that sits between two tall evergreens. Everything about this place feels so unfamiliar. It’s so different from our block in the city, but when we get out of the car, Sophie takes my hand to show me all around and I immediately feel better.
She shows me the garden. And the tree with the tire swing. And the porch that wraps around the whole house. After Sophie shows me her room with the two twin beds, her mom serves us lunch and fresh made lemonade at the picnic table in the back.
“Isn’t this fun?” Sophie asks.
“Yes,” I say. I am feeling pretty good about my trip so far.
After lunch we set out into the field and go exploring. We pick up cool-looking rocks. Twigs that look like magic wands. And flowers that we weave into crowns for our hair. We don’t even hear her dad when he calls us the first time or the second time. We only hear him when he comes right up to us as we’re running.
“You girls are having too much fun,” he says. “It’s time for supper.”
Sophie’s dad makes hamburgers and tofu dogs on the grill with all the fixings. Afterward, as the coals die down, we throw chocolate chip cookies on there to let the chocolate melt a little. We eat them as the sun sets and the stars came out.
“Look,” I say, pointing at the first star.
“Make a wish,” Sophie’s mom says.
I close my eyes and make a wish.
I wish I brought the right doll.
“Just wait and see when it gets a little darker,” Sophie’s dad says. “You can make a thousand wishes.”
After the sun sets and the sky darkens, there are more stars out than I had ever seen in my life.
“Wow!” I say. I make sure to remember what it looks like so I can tell my moms.
“Let’s count them,” Sophie says.
“Do you think we can?” I ask.
“We can try,” Sophie says.
We put on our sweaters and shake out a blanket. Then we lay down, staring up at the sky, and start counting. Pretty soon there are too many stars to count and it gets cold and late, so we give up and go inside to climb up the creaky stairs up to Sophie’s bedroom.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” Sophie says as we pull down the bedspreads to get ready for sleep.
“Me, too,” I say.
“Tomorrow, we can bring our dolls with us,” she says. Then she goes to her suitcase and pulls out Josephine, which is the fanciest doll she owns. It has long, wavy dark hair and a nice dress.
At that moment I remember my doll dilemma.
“Oh,” I say. “You brought Josephine.”
“I hope you brought a doll with you,” Sophie says. “There aren’t any toys here except what we bring.”
“It’s in my suitcase,” I say and point to my ladybug suitcase.
“Good,” Sophie says. “Tomorrow is going to be perfect.”
While Sophie goes downstairs to get us glasses of water, I open up my suitcase to get my pajamas and to see which doll I’d grabbed.
Right there on top is of my clothes is Fred, the Lizard Alien.
My heart sinks. Even though I love Fred more than anything, I know that any other doll would have been better than Fred. Fred just won’t do.
“Oh no,” I say, knowing that I had brought the wrong doll. I want to cry. But looking at Sophie’s pillow where Josephine rests, looking so perfect, I just know that I can’t bring Fred out to comfort me during the night.
Before Sophie comes back, I bury Fred in the bottom of my suitcase and shut him in there so that she can’t see. Then I shove my suitcase under the bed. I don’t want to show Sophie my doll until I absolutely have to.
But what if she asks me to bring my doll out before bed?
As I hear Sophie’s footsteps in the hallway, I jump under the covers and pretend that I am asleep when she opens the door.
The whole night I toss and turn so much that in the morning I wake up before Sophie does. Since I can’t sleep anymore, I creep downstairs where I can smell that breakfast has already been started.
“Hello, Margaret,” Sophie’s mom says. She drinks a coffee and reads her tablet at the table, while Sophie’s dad makes pancake batter.
“Can I get you some breakfast?” Sophie’s dad says as he pours another pancake onto the griddle.
I nod and slide into a chair. Sophie’s mom’s phone buzzes on the table. She checks it and then goes back to reading her tablet. That’s when I get an idea. Maybe I can get the right doll.
“Mrs. Ifson,” I say. “Would it be OK if I used your phone to call my Moms?”
Mrs. Ifson looks up, concerned.
“Is everything OK?” she asks.
“What’s wrong, Margaret?” Mr. Ifson asks as he flips another pancake.
“I just want to tell them I got here OK,” I say.
Mr. and Mrs. Ifson looked at each other and then nod. Mrs. Ifson pulls up my parent’s number and pushes the phone toward me.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll just go outside.”
I take the phone, and when I step outside onto the porch, I press the dial button and Mom answers after one ring.
“Margaret,” she says, sounding sleepy and worried. “It’s early. Is everything alright?”
“Mom,” I say. “I brought the wrong doll with me.”
“But Mama said you brought Fred,” she says. “I thought you loved Fred.”
“I do love Fred,” I say. “But it’s the wrong doll. Fred can’t go to tea parties or play dress up. He’s a lizard!”
“Lizards can go to tea parties. I bet they have tea parties in outer space,” Mom says.
“No,” I say. “It just won’t do. You don’t understand.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Mom asks. “You are in the country and I am in the city.”
“I want you to come here and bring me Curly Carla and her little bag of clothes,” I say. “Then I will have the right doll.”
Mom gets quiet on the other end of the line. Then I can hear Mama in bed next to her asking her what’s wrong. Mom explains to her about Fred. There is some rustling and then some murmuring.
“Margaret,” Mom says. “We told you to call us if there was an emergency.”
“This is an emergency,” I say.
“This is not an emergency,” Mom says.
“It is to me,” I say.
“This is a little girl emergency,” Mom says. “I thought you said you were a big girl now?”
“I am a big girl,” I say loudly.
“It doesn’t sound like it,” Mom says.
“Let me talk to Mama. She’ll understand.”
I hear Mom as she passes the phone to Mama.
“Hello?” Mama’s voice comes on the line.
“Mama, I brought the wrong doll. You have to come and bring me Curly Carla.”
“Margaret,” Mama says. “The drive is four hours out of the city. We can’t go and borrow a car and drive up there for a doll.”
“But I brought the wrong one!” I say.
“If we come then it won’t be to take you a doll,” Mama said. “It will be to take you home. Do you want to come home?”
I pause for a second. If I went home, then Sophie would never know that I had brought the wrong doll. That could be a solution to my problem. I could pretend that I’m sick or something and then she wouldn’t be mad that I left early. She would still be my friend.
But then I wouldn’t have the fun of running in the fields and looking up at all of those stars at night. And there are pancakes for breakfast now and Mrs. Ifson said yesterday that we were going to make homemade pizza for dinner tonight. And I want to play more with Sophie because she’s so fun to play with.
“No,” I say. “I want to stay here. But I also want you to bring me my Curly Carla doll.”
“No,” Mama says. “We won’t come.”
“But I need my other doll,” I say.
“Why?” Mama asks.
“Because I have the wrong doll and if I show her then maybe Sophie won’t want to be my friend.”
Mama is quiet for a minute and I think that maybe she understands and that she is going to see how important it is to bring me my doll.
“We’re not going to come up there for a doll. Now that you are a big girl, you’re going to have to figure this out,” Mama says. “I know that you can do it.”
After they both say ‘I love you,’ they end the call and I go inside with a heavy heart. Sophie is awake and sitting at the kitchen table mixing us up some chocolate milk.
“Everything OK?” Sophie asks.
“I told my Moms about the stars,” I say.
“We’ll look at them tonight, too.” Sophie says. “We’ll show them to our dolls.”
“OK,” I say. But I don’t feel very excited about it.
“What should we do now?” Sophie asks.
“Let’s go look for some more bugs and birds to write down in our list,” I suggest.
“Good idea,” she says and grabs a pencil.
I manage to distract Sophie from playing with our dolls until after lunch.
“How about we go get our dolls,” Sophie says as we clear our plates. Then she pulls me and I follow her up the stairs.
She jumps on her bed and hugs Josephine to her chest.
“Go get your doll,” Sophie says. “We’ll dress up in our costumes and put our dolls in their best outfits and go to a big fancy ball.”
I try to think of a million excuses so that I don’t have to show her my wrong doll. I think about clutching my stomach and pretending that I am sick. Of looking out the window and saying that I see something crazy, like a UFO. Of lying and saying that I hadn’t brought a doll at all.
But then I remember that I am supposed to be a big girl now. And big girls tell the truth.
“I brought the wrong doll,” I admit.
“The wrong doll?” Sophie asks.
I pull my suitcase out from under the bed and take Fred out from under all of my clothes.
Sophie looks at me. Then she looks at Fred. Her face changes and I can’t tell if she is mad or not.
“I’m really sorry,” I say. I really was. “I wanted this to be a perfect sleepover weekend.”
“What costume did you bring?” she asks quietly. So quietly that I think she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.
I pull out my silver fairy costume. But when I unfold it, I see that it was my silver robot outfit. I was so sure I’d brought my silver fairy dress. Not only had I brought the wrong doll, but I’d brought the wrong costume, too.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I ruined our fun.”
Sophie looks at me like she is going to cry.
**************
“I feel like I am the one who ruined our fun,” Sophie says. “It was me who brought the wrong doll.”
“But if I’d known you were going to bring a doll like Josephine I would have picked a different doll to bring,” I says.
“And if I’d known you were going to bring Fred the Lizard Alien and your robot outfit I would have brought Her Heroine Thadora and my Knights in Shining Armor costume!” Sophie says.
“I guess maybe we should have talked about it,” I say.
“I guess so,” Sophie says. “What are we going to do?”
We both sit on our beds holding onto our wrong dolls.
“Do you think that Josephine would be OK hanging out with Fred?” I ask.
“I think so. Do you think Fred would be OK hanging out with Josephine?” Sophie asks.
“I think so,” I say. “I think that aliens have balls and tea parties, too.”
Sophie nods in agreement. “And I know that Josephine likes to go on adventures. I bet she wouldn’t mind visiting a few planets.”
I nod.
“Maybe we brought the right dolls?” I say.
“I think we did,” Sophie says.
“Should I put my robot outfit on?” I ask.
“If you don’t mind me putting on my princess dress,” Sophie says.
“I don’t mind at all,” I say.
We get dressed up and grab our dolls and head out to fields.
There are too many adventures to have with our dolls to waste any more time.
Illustrator Daniella Batsheva watches a lot of monster movies and likes learning about European History during her free time. Daniella started drawing at a very young age and would challenge herself by copying the characters she watched in cartoons. She attended college at The University of the Arts in Philadelphia and received a degree in illustration. She now works with horror film festivals, kid’s clip art and apparel companies in Los Angeles.