Rosie Starshine's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Rosie Starshine had waited on the toy store shelf for a long time. She was a brown teddy bear with soft fur, and she wanted one thing: a child who would take her home and keep her forever. She wanted a name that sparkled and a mermaid shirt to wear. She had watched other toys leave in small hands. Once a girl in red boots had picked her up, called her fur soft, then set her back down. Rosie had learned what it felt like to be left behind. Then a small hand closed around her middle. A girl about five years old lifted Rosie off the shelf. She held Rosie against her chest and did not put her back. Rosie's stuffing seemed to buzz. The girl walked past the mannequin near the register, the one dressed in a shimmering mermaid dress with scales of purple and teal. Rosie stared at those scales. That was the world she belonged in. The girl walked straight toward the counter with Rosie in her arms. Behind the counter stood a young man in a brown jacket and a knitted vest, sleeves rolled up. He smiled at the girl. "Found someone you like?" he asked. He was new here. He was gentle with the toys, careful when he lifted them, and he tucked each one into its bag like it mattered. "This one," the girl said, and pushed Rosie up onto the counter. Beside the girl stood an older woman with silver hair in a messy bun and a pink hoodie. She leaned down and looked at Rosie with hazel eyes. She touched Rosie's ear. "She's soft, no cap," the woman said. "Good pick, baby." She set money on the counter. "We'll take her." Rosie's fear returned all at once. The last girl had said soft too, then walked away. Rosie waited for the woman to change her mind. She waited to be set back on the shelf. The young man scanned the tag. He wrapped Rosie in soft paper, then held the bag open. "Congratulations," he told the girl. "She's yours now." The woman shook her head. "No bag," she said. "She'll want to see where she's going." She handed Rosie back to the girl. The girl squeezed Rosie tight. Then she turned and walked toward the door. The bell jangled. Cool air rushed in. For the first time, Rosie crossed the line she had watched so many toys cross before her. The door swung shut behind them. Rosie was leaving the store. Someone had paid for her. Someone was carrying her home. But the girl held Rosie loosely now, swinging her by one arm as she skipped toward a bright brick house with flower boxes. And through an upstairs window, a doll with brown curls watched them come. Her painted face was set in a scowl, and she did not look happy to see Rosie coming home at all.