Shaky breaths desperately retreat my body as droplets of sweat crawl down my face. The simple task of breathing alone seems impossible. With buzzing eyes, I glance around the stuffy room full of run down bleachers and green tiles. Suddenly, braided little knights and high pitched shrieks shake me out of my thoughts. In response, random chants unconsciously flow out my aching throat. As if they have a mind of their own, my hands fly to the air and dramatically swing left and right. My feet are next as they propel off the ground, and I jump around as if I am a caged animal finally set free. My ears are ringing as I flinch from the accidental bumps and kicks of my neighboring classmates. Throughout the madness, my sole concentration stays on the golden pole of the hour, our spirit stick. A small clank fills the air and a hush falls over the large crowd.

The newly crowned queen lets out a final call, “Alright dolls, let’s wrap it up for old times sake.” A sudden realization crashes down on me when I hear those infamous words. Our last cheer was already here? Within the next second, muscle memory kicks in as I turn into the inner circle.

“I was raised underneath the shade of the Milne tree, and that’s home you know it.” Tears swell in my eyes as I anticipate the final memory of my last spirit day. My chest feels restricted as I already hear some friends choke up on the first words. Meanwhile, my feet and fingers follow the natural movement: step and snap, step and snap. I allow my vocal cords to belt the beginning verses as I watch small smiles and mournful eyes sing along.

Who knew time would travel so fast? Did I even have time to blink? I glance around the tight-knit circle of knights that I call my classmates. Each one with their own personal growth and development as a Ragdoll. Endless rows of smeared rosy cheeks, run down eyelashes, and messy braids. Beneath them, ripped capes and torn armor resided, proving our previous dedication. For a moment, all you hear are the in-sync platter of school shoes tap back and forth.

Reality sneaks up and slams into my chest that very moment. My voice cracks, “And a whole lot of doll pride.” My vision is distorted from the build-up of unshed tears in my brown eyes; singing and breathing at the same time is now unattainable. A thick lump resides in my throat as I cry the next words, “Really don’t want to say goodbye.” The agonizing saying yanks my heart. I don’t want to leave this united family and safe haven just yet. Muffled cries and scratchy voices reassure me that my grade reciprocates the feelings, too. I peer up into the surrounding stands and watch some students catch a fallen tear down their cheek. Craning my neck left and right across my family of knights, I notice the same expressions on each doll’s face. Silent tears roll down my rosy cheeks as I observe heartache and sorrow break loose. Standing in front of me are my classmates, my dolls, my sisters. With final words, I take a closing glance around Duplantis. I am overwhelmed with the suffocation of excitement, sadness, yet acceptance. The tiny corners of my lips pull upwards as I turn to my friend over my shoulder. The end was inevitable and slowly creeping its place into reality. Why do these words have such a deeper meaning than they first let on? My eyelids squeeze tight as I choke out, “Don’t forget a doll’s love.”