A person should have all rights to their own house. A child should have rights to his own room. He shouldn’t be upset if the owner of the house walks in one day to make sure he hasn't burned down a wall or tell the child to tidy up a bit. But it is wrong for a person who doesn't own the house to barge into another's room and start telling them what to do. Copper agrees with this idea. But just like a person should have the rights to his own house, a person, even a child, should have the right to their own person.
That is what Copper believes.
And Copper’s room reflected her person. So when she stepped into her room after a long trip and saw the doll sitting on her dresser, Copper screamed. If you had asked the neighbors they would have denied hearing a thing. But Copper heard something. She heard her person being shattered and in reaction screamed herself out of breath. Copper’s cry wasn’t something you could hear; it was something you could see.
Her eyes bulged and a blue vein popped in her forehead, an eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. Copper’s heart screamed. Who could know her so little, but have access to her house? Nobody that Copper would give the key to. But you have to remember this isn’t Copper’s house.
Her grandmother may have done it. Her grandmother must have put the doll there. She is staying at Copper’s house for the summer and is a snoop. Her parent’s won’t throw her out though. Copper would have done so in a heartbeat, if she were to be totally honest. She doesn’t have the patience or nerve to deal with somebody who tries to rule over another person.
Copper takes a moment to exam the doll. It’s olive eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking and unfeeling. It’s peppermint dress drapes past her knees, leaving white socks visible. The dolls auburn hair is like waves trying to reach the shore. Curling, shifting, and rolling over itself to reach the doll's perfect forehead.
Copper examines her own forehead in the mirror. Acne dots her tanned face. Does her grandmother want Copper to be like this little doll? With rosy and unblemished cheeks, perfectly long eyelashes, and full lips?
Copper remembers when she got the doll for Christmas. When she ripped open the wrapping, her heart instantly fell to the floor. A doll? She wondered if her grandmother really knew her at all. Her grandmother looked at Copper expectantly and said, “She looks just like you.”
But the doll didn’t. Copper has eyes like the bark on trees or the rust on a pipe. You can get lost in Copper's eyes the same way you can get lost in a forest. The doll's eyes were like a barricade: nothing could get out and nothing could enter. Copper’s hair is coppery, not auburn. The doll’s hair must have taken hours to perfect and Copper only runs a brush through her hair once a day when she gets up. Copper wears t-shirts and jeans, not dresses and little black shoes. In fact, Copper hasn’t worn a dress since she was six. Copper was twelve when she received the doll.
Now Copper is thirteen.
All Copper could do was fake a smile and thank her politely. Kylie, her younger cousin, squealed when she found her doll. Kylie’s doll looked exactly like her. They both shared clear blue eyes and blonde hair straight as a board. The younger girl bounced up to their grandmother and squeezed her tightly.
Copper shakes her head and the memory quits. She wants to leave and ask her grandmother where she found the doll, for even Copper can’t remember where she tossed it. But she doesn’t. If Copper leaves, she is certain that when she returns, her whole room will be replaced with another girl’s.
Carrying the doll out of her room will do no good either. She doesn’t want even touch it. Just looking at it makes her sick to her stomach. That is what this curdling feeling is, isn’t it? Something is climbing up her throat and trying to pry open her mouth. Copper can’t leave though or the doll will replace her life with somebody else’s.
So Copper stands there, blocking the doll’s view out the window. They stare for what seems like an eternity. The tick of a clock rings through the room and is persistent with it’s plead. “Leave.” Another tick. “Leave.” This time a tock. “Just give up.” But Copper doesn’t. Copper could have remained there for the rest of her life, just to prove who she is.
A knock on the door severs the silence. Her grandmother ambles in, eyeing the posters of anime characters and sketches. Not a hint of approval is in her gaze. Only the look somebody gets when they try to fix something. Her eyebrows squint, scrutinizing every problem and calculating a way to mend it. Nothing was ever broken, but in the older lady's eyes, everything that wasn't like her must be wrong and in need of repair.
Copper supposed the first step was digging up the doll from wherever it was hidden in the house and placing it in her room. Even the best-laid plans don’t always work out.
Her grandmother brushes her wrinkled finger against the doll's chin. One could say it was done lovingly. “Do you remember her, Nicole?”
Copper flinches at the sound of her real name. She clenches her teeth and practically growls, “My name is Copper. Not Nicole.” Copper glares at her grandmother. Her grandmother doesn’t respond. Copper adds, “One day I’m changing my name so you have to call me Copper.”
Her grandmother sighs, “I hope you change your mind and decide to hold onto it. Nicole was your great-grandmother’s name.” Copper wants to shout, but that’s not my name! My name is Copper!
Copper wonders for a brief second if her grandmother wants her to be like that doll because you can give it the world. You can give them shoes, a name, and all your love. The doll accepts all of those things, where as most people won't without a bloody fight. You can mold a doll to be just like you or your vision of perfection.
Copper isn’t a doll. You can give her something but that doesn’t mean she will to take it. A doll will bobble its head and love whatever you want it to love, but Copper has her own preferences. You may give Copper a pretty name, but that doesn’t mean Copper won’t throw it out and replace it with something she made for herself.
A tiny circle is brushed into the carpet where Copper has been rubbing her toe. She doesn’t want to upset her grandmother despite how much she dislikes her and her constant badgering. She timidly says, “Maybe I'll keep it.” That instant something slams into her heart, knocking it's breath out. How could Copper ever even let that woman think for a second she would just change like the blink of an eye? How could she let her think Copper would change at all?
But this time her grandmother smiles warmly with approval. That smile twists Copper’s stomach. She doesn’t want her grandmother to smile at something that is not Copper. “Good. She’d be happy to hear that,” the elderly lady says. The pain seers through her stomach once again, but this time Copper can't take it standing. Copper clutches her stomach with her hand and collapses to the ground, kneeling. Her grandmother gasps, “Are you all right?”
Copper reaches her hand out and asks between shallow breaths, “Give me the doll.”
Her grandmother doesn’t hesitate to comply, happy to be of any assistance. She believes Copper holding the doll will make her feel better. Comforted. Copper grasps the doll and something clambers up her throat. Warm and moist food begins to slip through her teeth and onto her t-shirt. It was one of her favorites. Yuki Cross from Vampire Knight is splashed on the front. Her red eyes are in a daze and seems to glow.
One last glance is stolen at the doll. It still hasn’t blinked. It still hasn’t rejected anything. It is perfect but is about to be ruined. This doll probably cost her grandmother about a hundred dollars, but to Copper, it’s worthless. Copper lays it on the floor. Before she throws up on its hand painted face, she names the doll.
She names it Nicole.
, although there were a few grammatical errors etc. Copper really is a girl who embraces every aspect of her freewill, unlike the doll she named Nicole. I found that very intriguing, it got me thinking of a lot of people I know who unfortunately find themselves in Copper's position. Constantly hammered by their elders into being something they resent. I found some parts of your story very humorous aswel, like how you 'see' Copper scream and never hear her. And how her grandmother puts that 'paragon' of a doll into her room, being the snoopy/forceful person she is.
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