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I  was an only child. The apple of my parents' eyes, a princess who could  do no wrong. So when
my parents told me they had a surprise for my  seventh birthday, I was ecstatic and lost sleep
thinking about what it  could be. A new Lego play set? The doll I'd seen at the toy store? A 
pony?! The possibilities were endless! When the morning of my birthday  arrived, I leapt from
my bed and charged full tilt downstairs, where my  mother was sitting at the kitchen table with
her morning cup of coffee. A  quick scan of the room didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary
and  immediately my stomach sank with disappointment. I clambered into the  chair beside her
and leaned forward across the table so that my face was  in her's,
"Mama?"
She set her coffee aside and scooped me up in a great big bear hug  until I was shrieking with
laughter. Once I had been suitably smothered  with birthday kisses, she set me down and told
me she was going to make  me chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream for breakfast.
Although  this made my stomach growl with anticipation, I wasn't going to be  swayed from my
original mission.
"Mama, you said I'd get a surprise today, where is it?" I asked with all the tact that children are
known for.
"Daddy's gone to get it, Princess, you have to be patient."
I was like a firecracker with a short fuse all through breakfast. I  bounced in my seat, ran back
and forth between the window looking out at  the driveway, and peppered my mother with a
million questions about  what my surprise could be, but she just told me to eat my pancakes. I 
had barely managed to get one down when I heard the sound of my dad's  car door shutting
outside. With a squeal of excitement, I ran out to  meet him in the car port, only to come to an
abrupt halt when I saw that  he had not come home alone.
He was carrying a girl who looked a little younger than I was. She  was small for her age, delicate
like porcelain and topped with tight  gold ringlets that framed her round face. God himself could
not have  created a more perfect cherub than this child. She regarded me shyly  with the purest
blue eyes I'd ever seen and gave the tiniest of waves. I  was immediately entranced.
"Well good morning, kiddo, happy birthday!" My dad chuckled and knelt  to kiss me atop my
head, "I guess you've seen your surprise." He gently  placed the little girl in front of me and
beamed at the two of us, "Her  name is Suzie, what do you think?"
"She's my present?" I asked uncertainly.
Dad frowned, "Don't you like her?"
I looked from my dad to the girl and back again. He seemed perfectly  serious. I had been asking
for a sister for ages and now they'd gotten  me one! I clapped my hands and threw my arms
around Dad's waist, "I love  her!"
He seemed relieved and tousled my hair, "Take her in and show mommy!"
I was only too happy to oblige. I took Suzie's hand and led her into  the kitchen, where Mom
oohed and aahed over how pretty she was. Suzie  giggled and hid her face against my shoulder,
which already made me feel  like the best big sister ever. I took Suzie through the house,
showing  her all the rooms and introducing her to the cats, Dot and Smurf. When  she reached
out to pet Smurf, he swatted at her and bolted from the  room. Fat tears immediately welled in
her eyes and I hugged her  comfortingly, reassuring her that Smurf was just a fat old grump and
he  was like that with most new people. The incident was soon forgotten once  we reached my
room and became engrossed in accessorizing my barbies. 
Suzie and I were soon inseparable. Mom and Dad thought it was the  cutest thing ever and took
a million pictures of us doing the most  mundane things; sitting at the table eating, splashing
through a  sprinkler in the back yard, lounging in our pjs in front of the tv with a  big bowl of
popcorn between us. It seemed they were thrilled their  little girls were getting along so well.
One lazy summer evening, Suzie and I were lying on the kitchen floor,  coloring in a new book
our grandmother had sent. Smurf had been  stalking us from the countertops while we worked
and I could tell it was  making Suzie uncomfortable, so I gathered the old guy up and carried  him
to the living room. He purred contentedly in my arms, so I snuggled  him for a minute before
plopping him on the couch next to my parents and  returned to the kitchen.
Suzie was sitting amongst the remains of the coloring book, which  lay, shredded, across the
kitchen floor. A pair of scissors was beside  her. I gaped at her, my mouth hanging open, and she
giggled sweetly.
"Why did you do that?" I shouted, for the first time becoming cross with my sister.
My parents were drawn to the noise and stood in the doorway, their hands on their hips,
"What's going on in here?"
"Look what Suzie did!" I gestured angrily towards the mess and to the guilty party, who was now
pouting down at the floor.
"Oh, Princess," Dad sighed, "I don't think Suzie did that. How could  she? Come on, let's clean it
up. We won't tell Nona about it, ok?"
I was flabbergasted. Suzie was sitting there practically red handed  and they both just brushed it
off! I scowled at their backs while they  knelt to clean it up. Mom even gave Suzie a little pat on
the head  before telling me to take her off to bed. I was furious and grabbed  Suzie a bit more
roughly than I meant to by her arm and hauled her off  to our shared room. My anger lessened
more with each little sniffle that  sounded in the dark. Finally, when the guilt became too much,
I  whispered my apology to her and we fell into an easy sleep, the coloring  book already a thing
of the past.
When it came time for school to resume, I asked Mom what grade Suzie  would be in. She
smiled, clearly amused, and said, "She's not going to  school, honey; it's for big girls." Of course, I
nodded sagely, Suzie  was still too little. When I left the next morning, I could see Suzie 
watching the bus pull away from our bedroom window. Her angelic little  face was twisted into
an dark frown. She didn't even respond when I  waved. She was probably upset I was going
without her, but what could I  do? I'd make sure to play a lot with her when I got home.
That night, I was met with two stern faced parents who demanded to  know why I had left my
room in such a state when I'd been told very  clearly to tidy it up before school. I was confused
and protested my  innocence, I'd just cleaned it yesterday! But they wouldn't listen and  said
that I'd be in big trouble if I didn't get in there and straighten  it up. Suzie was waiting for me on
my bed, her arms crossed proudly over  her chest. The room around her was absolutely
wrecked. Clothes were  strewn about, my stuffed animals had been spilled to the floor, all my 
barbies were thrown from their usual bin. I screamed at my parents that  Suzie was the one they
should be mad at, but I got no answer. My sister  just watched me clean.
Over the next few weeks, things started going missing around the  house only to turn up mixed
in with my belongings. Mom's jewelry, Dad's  wallet, the car keys. Mom's engagement ring was
never found, no matter  how hard we looked. Then Smurf got out. Someone left the sliding door
to  the back yard open and he just wandered away. Although they said they  didn't blame me, I
still received a long lecture about responsibility  after that. I sobbed that it wasn't me, it was
Suzie. 
"Look, kiddo, you know we love you, but this has to stop. We know Suzie didn't do it, you did, so
it's time to stop."
I was completely and utterly betrayed. Suzie never spoke up or  corrected them and they never
even asked her for her side. I started to  resent them all and grew quieter and sullen. I withdrew
from my parents  and actively ignored Suzie, which just made her act up more. A handmade 
lamp from my aunt Connie was smashed. The living room curtains were cut  into ribbons.
Daddy's work laptop was doused with a glass of water.  Still, they blamed me. I heard my mom
talking to Nona on the phone about  a behavioral specialist, but I didn't know what that meant. I
just knew  I was powerless and frustrated and no one was listening.
The last straw finally snapped when I came home from school and  stomped into my room. Suzie
was standing over a pile of my clothes with a  box of matches in her chubby little hands. She
grinned at me, but it  was a sinister expression, one that sent an icy chill down my back. I 
instinctively took a step back. That was all she needed. A match was  struck and thrown
flippantly into the pile. I screamed for my mom and  rushed at Suzie, who gleefully retreated to
my bed and threw the matches  at my feet. After much yelling and confusion, my parents were
able to  put out the flames, which hadn't gotten far, but had eaten most of my  clothes.  After
they made sure I was ok, I was made to sit at the  kitchen table and interrogated.
"Suzie did it!"
"Stop it, Amy!" I had never heard my father speak so sharply, "Enough! Why did you do it?"
"I told you..."
"Amy," my mother took a gentler approach, "we just want to understand what's going on."
"Then go yell at her!"
My father's hand came slamming down on the tabletop so hard that even Mom jumped, "Amy,
Suzie is a doll!"
I stared at him, not comprehending, "No, she's horrible!"
"She is a doll, Amy, a toy. I wish I never bought you the damn thing!"
"Tom, please."
His nostrils flared with frustration and he threw up his hands at us, "She needs to stop lying!"
"I'm not lying!" I was shaking with anger and fear and the righteous  indignation of the falsely
accused. I ran from the kitchen, screaming  over my shoulder that I'd make Suzie tell them
everything. But when I  got to my room, there was no little sister. No cherubic little girl with  too
bright blue eyes. Only a delicate porcelain doll that I'd seen at  the toy store and wanted for my
birthday sitting on my bed, staring at  the door with a frozen smile.