They all looked to Molly. After a few moments of scuffing her feet and making small trenches in the dirt, she finally looked up at Sandra with glassy eyes and nodded her consent with a sniffle. * * * They buried the doll the next day beneath a holly tree against the edge of the woods. Molly stole toilet paper from the school bathroom and wrapped up her beloved friend, placing her gently in a shoebox decorated on the inside and out with tiny paper flowers. Alyssa asked Miss Haswell to borrow a small garden shovel, and when she said it was for a project that involved “understanding mummies,” the teacher delightedly consented. Joseph helped Alyssa to dig the hole, and Sandra said some sentimental words over the box after Molly placed it in the ground, sniffling the whole while. Sandra even shed a few light tears, but Alyssa suspected that they were only for dramatic effect. * * * “Alyssa, sweetheart, what on Earth happened to your dress?” Alyssa’s mother asked her when she got home from school that day. The front of her dress was covered in red clay from the doll’s burial, which Alyssa had tried to brush off after getting off the bus, with minimal success. “Did that heathen teacher of yours have you digging in the dirt again?” her father asked from his position in his cushioned easy-chair in the living room. “It’s not proper to have little girls getting all filthy at school, that’s not the way to teach ‘em.” Her mother dragged her by the arm to the back deck, where she began to forcefully beat at the clay stains in a vain effort to smack them off. “Ow,” Alyssa whined, squirming away from her mother. “No, Miss Kim— Haswell didn’t do this, I did,” she said, not meeting her mother’s disapproving gaze. “Sweetie, why were you in the dirt? You’re positively a mess.” “Well, we had to give Molly’s doll a
funeral, because Drake from next door ripped its head off when she brought it to school for Show-and-Tell, and she was really sad.” “Did you hear that, honey?” Alyssa’s mother shouted to her father. “That neighbor boy is going around ripping dolls’ heads off in the classroom, can you believe that? The woman can’t even keep control of her students, how do you expect her to teach them?” Her father chuckled. “That’s right, you got to keep a good handle on ‘em, or else boys will do what boys do best: destroy things.” “Mom, it wasn’t Miss Haswell’s fault, Drake grabbed the doll when we were at recess and—” “Now Alyssa, I want you to listen to me. You just try to stay away from all that nonsense, all right? That’s a good girl.” She patted Alyssa’s head and pushed her back in the house. “And please, change into some decent, clean clothes for dinner.” * * * After the doll’s funeral, Sandra told all of their other classmates about what a good deed they had done in giving the doll a noble burial, and how sad and beautiful the ceremony had been. All of the girls and a few of the boys were jealous that they missed out on the excitement, except for The Crew, who simply continued to snicker and make fun of Molly’s “babyness.” So, naturally, when Natasha’s clay sculpture of an elephant fell to the ground and shattered in art class, they all decided another funeral was to be held. The elephant’s funeral was a hit. All of the class except The Crew attended, including Miss Haswell, who was incredibly excited that her students were so engaged in something. “I just love it when you guys take on your own projects!” she said to Alyssa. “Though it is tragic what happened to Molly’s doll and Natasha’s elephant.” Sandra again presided over the ceremony, and delivered an eloquent eulogy in remembrance of the clay elephant.
THE GALLERY 13