Page 74 of Barbie: Dreamscape

Only one doesn’t move away. She wears pink bows in her blonde hair that match her perfect pink outfit. Instead of retreating, she looks curiously at the girl in the dark clothing as she hurries past.

“Why does she look so sad?” I ask Lune.

Lune looks sad, too. “Her parents died when she was young. She was all alone, drenched in sorrow. No one tried to reach out a hand in the darkness, fearing it would dim their own light. Until one day…”

She motions for me to look, and now I see that same little girl in the pink clothing knocking on the haunted-looking house, before checking her knuckles as if worried some of the house’s dust had transferred onto her.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one answers.

Then the door flings open, and the girl in pink straightens.

“What do you want?” the little girl in black spits out.

The girl in pink blinks quickly. She smiles. “I—I wanted to see if you’re free. We’re all… we’re all playing hide-and-seek.” She points behind her, toward a group of kids waiting in the distance by the fountain, who don’t look pleased at all that they might be getting a new addition.

The black-clothed girl’s eyes narrow. “I hate hide-and-seek,” she says. As if to emphasize her point, a bolt of lightning in the storm atop her house strikes the roof, sending a few black tiles sputtering.

Thunder rattles the frame of the wooden home. More of the roof deteriorates. The storm clouds that hover over the roof grow, melting across the sky, raining water and hail, taking over the square, and the other kids scream, scattering.

The girl in pink is unfazed. She plucks one of the dead flowers from the garden, and, under her touch, it blooms. It grows and grows, blossoming, until it becomes a bright pink umbrella. She smiles again. “I don’t mind the rain. How about hopscotch?” she asks.

The girl in black narrows her eyes at her. Then she slams the door shut.

The girl in pink sighs. She walks down the half-rotted path. But when she’s nearly to the fountain, the window at the top of the triangular house opens.

“Hey… do you like cards?” the girl in the dark dress calls after her.

The girl in pink turns around, beaming. “I love cards!”

The other girl’s gaze turns wary, her eyes dark with suspicion. “I bet you hate spiders, though.”

The girl in pink frowns. “I love spiders. They’re weavers, like me.”

A pinch in my chest forms. I knew—I already knew, deep inside me, what I was looking at. But to have the confirmation…

The little girl in pink is my mother.

But the rose blossomed into an umbrella under her touch. Which means…

My mother had her own magic?

Color blurs past me, time moving, cutting off my train of thought as Lune continues to show me the story.

I watch my mother and the girl in black walking side by side. The girl in black is being followed by a single cloud, raining down on her as if reflecting her mood. My mother is right next to her, holding a pink umbrella.

I watch them play. I watch the girl in black smile for the first time. And the ever-present storm cloud that hovers over the girl… over time, it lightens. It turns dark gray, then lighter, and lighter still. Then white.

Then it disappears altogether.

She laughs at a joke my mother says, and suddenly—

A sun appears over her head. It glimmers through the town square, streaming rays of golden light.

And her house that was falling apart with neglect and dust slowly becomes a home, laughter where there was silence, warmth where there was only cold. The girl still wears all black, but it doesn’t feel mournful anymore.

Time moves again, and the girls are older now, young women. I marvel at seeing so much of myself reflected in this vision of my mother.

And now I know for certain who the girl in black is, too. I had a suspicion… but I’ve never seen her wear that shade before. She’s always in pink.