by Mathilda Wheeler
Lolly lay still on the carpet.
“Lolly?” Meg felt cold. Her heart hurt. “Lolly!”
She ran to her sister. She knelt down. Pat, pat on Lolly’s face.
Lolly didn’t move. Her skin felt warm against Meg’s hand.
Meg sat on her heels and looked at Lolly. She saw her shirt move a bit. Air in. Air out. Little air, but air. She saw the throb pump, pump in Lolly’s neck. Lolly was alive.
Meg leaned in. She placed her thumb on Lolly’s eyebrow. She pushed up. The lid stayed down.
Meg’s fingertips tickled the eyelid. Still nothing. She pushed down the lower lid. The red inside poked out. Lolly didn’t move.
Meg tried to lift Lolly’s lip to stroke her teeth. The lip would not budge. Molly breathed on Lolly’s face. The skin got damp.
Lolly’s arms came up. Her hands caught Meg’s head and pushed. Her eyes opened. “Get away!” she yelled.
“Hello, Lolly,” said Meg. “Are you okay?”
Lolly’s face went pink. She grinned. “I fooled you! You thought I was dead!”
Meg’s eyebrows rose. She shook her head. “You breathed.”
Lolly’s face froze. “Next time,” she said slowly, “I won’t.”