I looked up. Rabbit was watching me, eyes glittering. Like they always did when he watched me. Holding his stare, I dipped my shoulder in his direction, dancing for him. Rabbit always liked me dancing for him.
No one else. He once told me that I wasn’t allowed to dance for someone else, but I couldn’t remember who that was.
Only for him.
Dolly’s dance for Rabbit.
So I danced and danced until my legs grew tired. Song after song played, each one a favorite. When the tape clicked off, needing to be turned over, Rabbit got to his feet. He came to where I stood, my hair now almost dry and sticking to my face. “Enough for tonight, my little Dolly. Your small body is tired and needs to rest.” He stroked Alice’s cracked face. For a moment, I wished he had stroked mine. “It’s time for bed. We have a big week ahead of us. You must train to fight the bad men. It will be hard work.”
“But there’ll be time for dancing?” I asked, yawning wide. I cradled Alice to me as I followed Rabbit to bed. He pulled back the comforter and I climbed inside. He pulled the cover over me.
He lowered his face close to mine. “There’ll always be time for dancing, darlin’,” he assured, his voice quiet yet rough. “Always time for dancing.”
I smiled at his words and felt them warm my heart. “Goodnight,” he whispered, and then moved to the corner and sat on the floor. He rested his back against the hard wall and met my eyes.
I sat up, my brow creased in confusion. “You’re not sleeping in a bed?”
Rabbit shook his head. Angry that he was sleeping on the floor, I reached over to the other side of my bed and pulled back the comforter. I looked at Rabbit again. “Climb in.” Rabbit looked like he was about to say no. I rolled my eyes. “We always shared a bed when we were young. We’re best friends; we can do it again.” I waited for him to move. Eventually he did. I pulled the comforter over us and laid my head on the pillow. He did the same. His shoulders were stiff at first, but then he relaxed. “Silly Rabbit,” I whispered, hearing him exhale a long deep breath as I did.
My eyelids began to feel heavy as I thought of the week ahead. I couldn’t wait to get back to the basement and use my blade and gun. I wanted to be the best champion of Wonderland I could be. I thought of Rabbit as he’d watched me stab the pig and fire my bullets, such happiness in his silver eyes. I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to kill the bad men that made our world so unsafe.
Then I thought of Ellis, trapped behind that door in the darkness of Wonderland. And most of all, I wanted to destroy the bad men for her. I didn’t want her to cry anymore. I wanted her to be free and safe.
“I’ll win, Ellis,” I whispered as I fell asleep. “Me and Rabbit, we will set you free.”
Chapter 8
The Caterpillar
Rabbit
One week later . . .
The wind rushed through our hair as I watched her pointing the gun out of the corner of my eye. “Time for tea.” She aimed the gun at the windshield. “Time for tea,” she announced, in a different tone. She shook her head, exasperated.
“Darlin’?” I questioned. Her hands fell to her knees, the blue gun lying on her lap.
Her bottom lip was pouting. It was painted bright pink, her favorite lipstick safe in her pocket. The wind ruffled her mass of blond curls, a black headband the only thing keeping it in any sort of place. She was wearing a clean blue dress, her black-and-white striped thigh-high socks and her polished ankle boots.
Beautiful.
“I haven’t decided what to say to the Caterpillar when we get to him. Can’t decide how to say what I want.” She looked up at me, and her shoulders slumped. Her finger ran over the engraving on her gun. “I want to say this, ‘Time for Tea,’ before I shoot him, because it’s on my gun and I think it sounds so good. Because I love tea.” Her face clouded over. “But only Earl Grey; nothing else will do.”
My chest tightened. She’d always said that when we were kids. And she would get real pissy if anyone around her tried to drink anything but Earl Grey, never mind if they tried to serve it to her. If they dared drink Darjeeling, she would completely lose her shit.
“Try them out on me,” I prompted, and her face brightened. Dolly shifted in her seat and pointed the gun at my face. I smirked.
“Time for tea,” she said. “Time for tea.” After she’d offered me five different ways of saying it, she asked, “Well?”