I have very little memory of writing this, but I remember reading it. I was a weird teenager.
May 1, 1973
“But mother, I want one too! You can’t give a doll to Heather without giving one to me, you know that!” cried ten-year-old Megan.
“Oh Megan, stop being difficult. You are making a scene. Grandma gave you a new nightgown last week, and this is Heather’s eighth birthday,” whispered Mrs. McLaughlin impatiently.
“If you give Heather a present without giving me one I will tell her what it is!” warned the near hysterical child.
“Oh Megan, whatever shall I do with you?” said Mrs. McLaughlin, turning back towards the toy department. “All right, pick out something under five dollars.”
With an almost satisfied gleam in her eye, and a sinister smirk on her face, Megan eyed the toys with exasperation. “But Mama dear, whatever can I find for under five dollars? Besides, Heather’s doll cost fifteen dollars!”
“Oh well, how about a party dress? You can wear it at Heather’s party.” angry that she couldn’t keep her own child under control, and defeated, afraid of what Megan could do if she didn’t give in, Mrs. McLaughlin gave in.
“All right, if it will make you happy I will get an old dress — but only if it costs more than Heather’s china doll!”
“We’ll see, honey, but now let’s pick out a dress for you.” She then led a satisfied little girl to find a dress.
“Oh Mama! What a beautiful doll, I shall call her Amy,” cried the joyous Heather at her eighth birthday party while Megan looked on in her new dress with envy.
“The doll is okay, but look at my dress everyone, it cost twenty-two dollars. Heather’s doll only cost fifteen! Heather never had a dress as pretty as this one, Mama even said so!” said Megan, distracting attention from Heather’s many gifts.
“Shh, Megan, this is Heather’s party.” whispered Heather and Megan’s mother.
“Shut-up! I hate you! I never get any presents. I hate you all!”
“Megan! I am sorry, kids. Megan is just tired from shopping today. You just on on with your party,” said Mrs. McLaughlin, running after her hysterical child.
“Megan, do you want this top that Kim gave me? Or this Barbie doll from Sandy? Please don’t be angry with me,” pleaded Heather.
“I’m not mad,” said Megan, picking up Heather’s new china doll and looking at it with an odd smile, “but I would like this!”
“Oh, no, Megan, please, not that. Mama gave it to me and I want to keep it. You can have anything else though,” said Heather in tears.
“No! I want this, it is mine anyway. A nice rich man gave it to me and Mother gave it to you because she hates to spend money on you, only me!” lied Megan.
“You are lying, Megan. Go out of my room, you can’t have anything!” screamed Heather.
“Oh yeah” Well how about this?” screamed Megan, throwing the fragile china doll to the floor. “So there, I wouldn’t want that old doll anyway, now!” Megan ran out the door slamming it behind her.
“Oh Amy, Amy, don’t die, don’t be broken please.” sobbed the heartbroken Heather, picking up the shattered doll and rocking back and forth as if trying to comfort the doll — only getting the comfort from the “dead” doll instead. ” Oh, Amy, Amy…”