The Odd Doll

 One of my favorite teachers I ever had was Wilma Roberts, my kindergarten teacher. She was always so kind and seemed to love us kids. She never made any difference between us, and always tried to be fair. I had brought one of my Barbies to school, against my mother's wishes. I had sneaked her in my backpack. She didn't look like my other Barbie's though. She looked like another doll maybe a Tuesday Taylor doll but I am still to this day not sure what she was because I had her farther back than I can remember, which was true for most of my dolls. Anyway, I brought her to school one day to play with at recess. Anyway, this doll was special. I had never seen one like her before and none of the kids had any that were like her either. I had always had this doll. I don't remember when I first got her because as far back as I can remember I had always had her, which is the case for most of my dolls. (Why is this so painful for me to write about? Anyway, it is. I need to explore that later.) This blonde-haired little girl wanted to see her and so I allowed her to. She kept her all day, much longer than what was favorable to me so I got tired of it and asked for her back and she then said no she's mine, not yours. I was in shock. The little girl was lying. That's when I told the teacher and the teacher then asked the class who's doll it was and I just knew the class would say hers because I wasn't very popular. I was the invisible outcast no one cared to like or get to know. At least that's how I felt, but to my surprise, almost the entire class said it was mine. They actually told the truth. I was shocked. I didn't know how they knew it was mine because Tee, that's what we will call the little girl in this story, had asked to borrow her much earlier in the day so not many people would have known that, but apparently they did, and I got my doll back, and I was happy because she wasn't just a doll to me she was a gift of love from my mother who was raising me. All my dolls were special to me, well most, lol. I didn't like the scary green Wizzard of Oz witch doll that my mom bought me, lol. That thing scared the pee out of me. Below is a picture of the doll I was talking about in this story. Oh, by the way, I am just writing my memories for my child in case he wants to read about his mother one day. I hold no hard feelings towards anyone.