Speak For Me Read online

  For those who struggle to speak their mind.

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 0

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Nomi Parker hated three things above all else: Spiders. Public speaking. And dolls.

  Nothing scared her more than turning on the bathroom light in the middle of the night and finding a humongous hairy spider on the tile floor.

  Nothing got her palms sweating like the idea of standing in front of her class to give a presentation—which made the fact that she wanted to be a theater star hard to imagine.

  But neither of those compared to her fear of dolls.

  When her friends had sleepovers, she made them put all their dolls in the closet. Or in another room. Ideally she would have preferred to hide them all in another building. On the other side of town. Or on another continent.

  When she went down the toy aisle, she had to look at the floor so she wouldn’t catch sight of those beady doll eyes watching her lifelessly.

  When a distant aunt had mistakenly bought her a doll for her eighth birthday, she’d hidden in her bedroom crying for the rest of the party. She hadn’t come out until her dad had assured her the doll was gone. And never coming back.

  She didn’t know what was worse after that—having nearly been stuck with a doll or having all her friends laugh at her.

  She didn’t just hate dolls because they were creepy. Even though that was definitely part of it.

  She hated them because whenever she looked at them, she started to wonder.

  What would it be like to be stuck in a box like that?

  What if every doll in the world could actually think, but they weren’t able to talk and move on their own?

  Sometimes she had nightmares about becoming a doll, unable to move or speak, unable to stop her owner when they decided to cut off her hair or put her in gross clothes or toss her to the family dog.

  When she woke from those nightmares, her palms would sweat just like during a presentation, and her heart would race just as if she’d seen a hundred spiders in her bed.

  The nightmares were bad. Really bad.

  And they would soon become her reality.

  “That honestly sounds like my worst nightmare,” Nomi said, staring at Jenna in disbelief.

  “Oh, come on,” her best friend said. “You and me singing a duet? We’d be great.”

  “I don’t know …” Nomi muttered.

  Nomi looked from her friend to the poster taped to the school’s wall. There were dozens of other posters papered all over the school, so everywhere she turned she was taunted with the same message:

  JOIN THE TALENT SHOW

  ***BE A STAR***

  And sure, that was her dream. Someday she wanted to star in the next Hamilton, to spend her nights under the lights of Broadway and her days exploring all the museums and cafés New York had to offer. She knew that meant practicing—and she did! She sang every night in front of her mirror and took voice lessons every weekend. She could play piano and recite scales by heart.

  The trouble was, her stage fright meant that this was about as far as her training could go. Whenever she thought about auditioning for a play or taking part in a talent show, she started to hyperventilate. So far, the only people to see her perform had been her father, her voice coach, and her stuffed animals.

  “You can pick the song!” Jenna urged. “And I’ll choreograph a dance and—”

  “Wait, we’re going to dance, too?”

  “Of course!” Jenna exclaimed. “Does Beyoncé just stand there? No. We gotta put on a show.”

  Nomi sighed. Mostly because she knew Jenna well—they’d been friends since they were both in diapers—and she knew Jenna would get her way. Always. It was easier if Nomi just accepted it now. Putting up a fight never worked out in her favor.

  “Okay,” Nomi relented. “I’ll do it.”

  The moment she said it, cold sweat broke out over her skin. Jenna didn’t notice. She did a little cheer that made a few kids stop and stare at them, but she didn’t mind. Unlike Nomi, she’d never had a problem being the center of attention.

  And maybe that was why Nomi and Jenna had remained friends for so long—Jenna was always happy to take center stage, be it in a school play or in their small group of friends. Nomi was perfectly content to sink into the shadows, to take the bit part or listen while Jenna recounted their shared stories to the group. And if that meant Nomi didn’t get the attention she secretly craved, well … there were worse things.

  Like when Jenna got it into her head that they needed to do something ridiculously public together.

  Like taking part in the talent show.

  Jenna was Nomi’s opposite in so many ways. Tall to Nomi’s short, fair to Nomi’s dark, loud to Nomi’s quiet. Confident to Nomi’s shy. Maybe that was also why Nomi was okay being in Jenna’s shadow. She figured that someday, maybe, Jenna’s confidence would wear off on her.

  Usually Nomi would have tried to wriggle her way out of doing the talent show in a day or two, once Jenna had lost some of her enthusiasm. But it was their first year of middle school, and she secretly wanted to make a big impression on all her new classmates. She was a sixth grader now—surely she should be more confident and willing to put herself out there to follow her dreams. Besides, she knew if she waited, she would just chicken out for the next few years. And as for trying in high school? No way. She’d seen high school boys; no matter her age or year, she’d never be comfortable standing up in front of a crowd of them. Not unless she already had experience onstage.

  Which meant it was now or never.

  Jenna took Nomi by the arm and led her out of the school, already talking about the latest dance moves she’d seen online. Which felt a little silly to Nomi, since she still hadn’t picked a song.

  What am I even thinking? Nomi wondered. Jenna will listen to whatever idea I have, tell me why it’s probably not the best choice, pick another song, and try to make it sound like it was my idea in the first place. She’s just letting me think I get to pick.

  Oddly, it didn’t upset Nomi to think that. She was used to it.

  And besides, Jenna knew what was best. She’d pick the right song. She always knew the right thing to do.

  Always.

  “I’m doing the talent show,” Nomi muttered over dinn
er.

  Her dad looked up at her, an eyebrow raised.

  “The talent show, huh?” he asked. “I’m … well, that’s great to hear, Nomi.”

  Nomi poked at her steak. Thursday nights were always steak night—her dad’s specialty, and her favorite—but tonight she wasn’t hungry at all. Not even for the mashed potatoes and gravy she’d helped make.

  “Yeah,” Nomi said. “Jenna said—”

  “I should have known,” he interrupted. “Of course it was Jenna’s idea.” He leaned forward and looked at her attentively. Nomi knew some dads never really paid attention to their daughters’ friends, but her dad had been like this even before her parents had split and her mom had moved away. He’d always been the one to understand what her life was like. “Are you sure you want to do it? I mean, I know you’re going to be a star someday! But I don’t want you to feel rushed if being onstage makes you uncomfortable.”

  Nomi shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she said. Except it was like that. “We both want to do it. I’ve already picked a song, and she’s going to choreograph a dance.” She sighed and tapped her plate with her fork. “Even Mrs. Ulrich says I need to get over my stage fright soon.”

  Mrs. Ulrich was her voice coach. The kindly woman used to sing in the opera, so she knew what she was talking about.

  “That’s true,” Nomi’s dad said. “And I’m proud of you for facing your fears. But I also don’t want you to let Jenna, well, you know.”

  “What?”

  He sighed heavily. “Well, Jenna kind of walks all over you sometimes. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable speaking up for yourself is all.”

  Nomi nodded, even though they both knew she wasn’t comfortable speaking up. Not at all. But that wasn’t Jenna’s fault. Nomi had always been shy.

  “Anyway,” her dad said, trying to change the subject, “I’m super excited to hear you sing. And you know we support you no matter what.”

  Nomi nodded. She knew what he meant: If you want to back out, I’ll support you, too.

  But she wasn’t going to back out. Not this time. Not again.

  That night, despite her previous convictions, all Nomi could think about was how she could get out of the talent show while saving face. When she was alone in her bed in the dark, it was easy for her to spiral, to worry about all the things that could go wrong. And quitting the show before she began seemed like the easiest way of avoiding all the horrible potential outcomes.

  Maybe she could pretend to be sick a few days before? But then she’d feel bad for letting Jenna down, though—if she was being really honest—she knew Jenna would go onstage without her.

  Or maybe she could say she had to go to a funeral and skip school?

  Or maybe she could just skip school in general and move to a new town where she didn’t know anybody. Maybe then she could find her voice.

  Her mind raced, so she did what she always did when she couldn’t sleep: She logged in to her social media.

  The first thing she noticed was a new message, but she ignored it for a second to scroll.

  She followed a bunch of celebrities and a few kids from school, a couple singers and actresses she admired. Photo after photo flashed by, images of famous people in famous places doing fabulous things, pictures of her friends and classmates somehow managing to be photogenic and fun no matter what, while she just felt frumpy.

  It didn’t make her tired, and it didn’t make her feel better, but at least it kept her from spiraling in her own thoughts.

  Then she scrolled past a sponsored post that nearly made her yelp.

  It was an ad she’d seen in countless variations countless times for the past few weeks. An ad she had reported every single time as being “offensive” but that she still kept seeing—probably because the product was owned by the social media company.

  They called her Emmy.

  Emmy was a doll.

  But not just any doll.

  She was what they called a smart doll.

  She could do anything a phone could do: play music, read out your texts and emails, make calls, take photos, browse the internet, and answer questions. All you had to do was link her to your phone, and she would become your best friend. The dolls all looked different: every ethnicity and body type, every gender, every age.

  Every one was perfectly lifelike … and utterly terrifying.

  Nomi immediately flagged the ad and refreshed her feed.

  Even though Emmy vanished immediately, Nomi’s palms were still sweating, and her pulse still raced.

  After a few deep breaths, she decided she was done scrolling for the night. It was late, and she didn’t think she could take any more mentions of dolls.

  She checked her messages.

  Jenna had sent a link.

  The thumbnail showed … an Emmy doll.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that made Nomi’s heart start racing again.

  Jenna hadn’t just sent a link to the doll, she’d sent a message.

  They come out tomorrow! We HAVE to get some! They can be part of our act!

  Nomi thought she was going to be sick.

  Partly from the mention of the doll, but mostly because …

  Well, mostly because she knew that Jenna always got her way.

  The next day at lunch, all anyone could talk about at Nomi’s table was Emmy.

  “My dad promised he’d pick one up for me at lunch,” Clarita said.

  “My moms made sure mine was preordered and would be delivered before I got home,” Jacqueline replied.

  “What about you, Jenna?” Simone asked. “Are you getting one?”

  Jenna blushed slightly, but she managed to hide it by laughing.

  “Just one?” she joked. At least Nomi hoped she was joking. “My parents said I’d have my pick over the weekend.”

  That, Nomi knew, was a lie. Money was tight at Jenna’s house, and the Emmy doll cost hundreds of dollars. That didn’t mean Nomi would put it past Jenna’s parents to save up and get Jenna a couple dolls—they loved spoiling their daughter—but Nomi highly doubted it.

  “I’d ask if you’re getting one,” Clarita said, looking at Nomi. “But I think we all know the answer.”

  Clarita had a huge doll collection. And that was why Nomi never stayed over at Clarita’s house. Not anymore. Not after last time …

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenna asked.

  Clarita laughed cruelly. “You of all people know what I mean. Nomi’s a scaredy-cat little crybaby. She wouldn’t be caught dead with one of those dolls.”

  “Please,” Jenna replied. “She’s braver than you’ll ever be. We are performing a duet for the talent show.”

  Jacqueline gasped, but Clarita just raised an eyebrow.

  “Really? Both of you? You’re not just going to have the doll sing in her place?”

  Is that an option? Nomi thought hopefully.

  Jenna roped an arm over Nomi’s shoulders. Nomi wasn’t certain what she was more grateful for—the fact that Jenna had managed to change the subject from dolls, or the fact that she was sticking up for Nomi.

  “Of course the both of us,” Jenna replied. “We’ve already picked out the song and everything. What are you doing for the talent show, Clarita? Taking a selfie?”

  “It would probably be more popular than whatever song you two screech out,” Clarita retorted. And just to prove her point, she pulled out her phone, posed, and took a selfie.

  Nomi had no doubt that it would have a few thousand likes before the school day was out. Clarita was beautiful, and her fashion was immaculate.

  Jenna just laughed, and Jacqueline started talking about the show she was bingeing, and the whole talent show topic was behind them. Even though Clarita could be rude, she was still one of Jenna’s best friends. Which Nomi supposed meant she was her friend, too.

  Nomi didn’t say anything while her friends talked. She just sat and listened and smiled and laughed at the right times. She ate her food. But a
lthough she was mostly paying attention, her thoughts kept drifting. Back to the talent show, back to her fear. And though it was chilly in the lunchroom, crisp and cool autumn air, she felt herself starting to sweat.

  Now she had to go through with the talent show.

  If she backed out now, they’d never let her live it down.

  She glanced over at Jenna and wondered, briefly, if that’s why her best friend had spoken up. Maybe it wasn’t about standing up for Nomi—maybe it was all so Nomi would feel pressured to follow through.

  But no. Jenna was her friend. She wouldn’t do that.

  Nomi was just letting her fear get the better of her.

  Nomi and Jenna wandered down the street, surrounded by laughing classmates and music, everyone chatting about their weekend plans. Since next week was Halloween, most of those plans involved last-minute costume shopping, or a trip to the haunted house a few towns over. Nomi loved this time of year, partly because she liked all the decorations but mostly because she loved autumn—the bright red leaves, the excuse to finally wear sweaters again. Michigan autumns were the best. Plus, everyone here went all out for the holiday; the houses they passed were fully decorated with ghosts and ghouls, spiderwebs and grinning jack-o’-lanterns.

  “Want to come over to my house to do homework?” Jenna asked. Jenna’s backpack was loaded up with books, but Nomi wasn’t bringing much home for the weekend. She’d already done most of the week’s homework.

  “Sure,” Nomi said. She knew it was code for help Jenna do her homework, but she didn’t mind. She liked helping. And being around Jenna.

  “Great!” Jenna replied. “We can work on our routine, too. I’m so excited. We’re totally going to make Clarita eat her words.”

  Nomi felt herself blush—maybe because of Jenna’s confidence, maybe because any mention of the talent show made her panic.

  “Have you picked out the song?” Jenna asked.

  Nomi nodded and told her which one. It was a pop song she knew Jenna would like, and Jenna’s eyes lit up when Nomi said it.

  “That’s going to be amazing,” Jenna said. “I can already picture the dance routine.”

  She started dancing around as they walked, making Nomi giggle. Then Jenna stopped and very nonchalantly said, “Hey, mind if we run by the store quick?”