The girls who weren't

Sweet Rebellion

Valentina stepped onto the hot sidewalk of Barbieville, the midday sun bouncing off the thousands of shades of pink that made up the landscape. Cupcake-style houses, convertible cars of the same hue, and smiling, eternally tanned inhabitants moved like plastic dolls in a theme park. Everything was excessively perfect, gleaming like a freshly unboxed Barbie, and nausea rose in Emily's throat, hidden within the Valentina shell.

She needed to focus. The plan was simple: find Ethan, who would already be parading in some poodle-themed prom, confront him about the ticket swap, and reclaim her well-deserved adventure. But what then? And after? Would revenge be enough? Emily looked down at her glittery pink boots, feeling the chills of doubt.

Suddenly, a flash of pink caught her attention. It was Stacy, the president of the Barbie Club, in a ruffled swimsuit and enormous sunglasses that looked like two oven mitts. "Welcome, Val!" she squealed in her doll-like voice, hugging Valentina with such ardor that Emily almost fainted from claustrophobia. "Jannete is devastated without you in the convertible car parade! But get ready, the afternoon cake competition is going to be epic!"

Emily froze. Jannete? Cakes? Car parades? The illusion of freedom was evaporating like sugar in hot tea. Was this what awaited her? A life of sugary futility?

A dull rage boiled inside her. Not for Ethan, but for the sham of that artificial existence. She would need to play this game, but with her own rules. She would need to expose Barbieville from the inside out, showing the rot hidden beneath the pink frosting.

With a smile as sharp as a plastic knife, Emily/Valentina lifted a fake cake stacked in Stacy's arm. "Cakes? Honey, I only eat diamonds from Tiffany's." She winked, her fake eyelashes fluttering like poisonous moth wings. "But who knows, maybe I'll participate... with the most scandalous cake this pink paradise has ever seen."

Stacy's eyes narrowed, the pink slit of her mouth tightening like a zipper. But before she could protest, the megaphone of Barbieville boomed with the cloying voice of Mrs. Glamour, announcing the start of the parade. Emily took advantage of the distraction and disappeared into the crowd, her Plan B bubbling in her mind. She would dance to the music, but she would change the melody. Barbieville was about to meet the real Valentina, and Emily, hidden in her disguise, would never be forgotten.

Ethan squeezed his purple high-heeled sandals against the pink plush carpet of the dressing room, trying to balance himself. The pink ruffled dress, too tight across his chest, made him hold his breath with every movement.

He had stolen Emily's ticket to the event, pretending she had lost it. He knew she would be upset, but he couldn't miss the chance to participate in the parade.

Ethan knew how to drive, but he had never driven a convertible. He was nervous, but also excited. He was about to fulfill his dream of becoming a Barbie.

The other girls, dressed in sugary Barbie costumes, chatted animatedly, tapping their heels on the floor like a herd of ponies. Ethan tried to imitate them, but his feet looked like two clumsy ducks trying to fly. He bumped his shoulder on the makeup table, knocking over a pot of lip gloss. A blonde Barbie, with enormous false eyelashes, glared at him with disdain.

"Hey, watch it, princess!" she snapped, reapplying her cherry red lipstick.

Ethan bit his lip, feeling sweat trickle down his neck. The idea of posing as Emily had seemed brilliant that rainy afternoon, but now, surrounded by so much femininity, he felt like a cricket trying to sing opera.

"Relax, Barbie," a soft voice cut through the air. Amber, the most popular Barbie in the village, emerged with a radiant smile. She was wearing a sparkling pink swimsuit and heart-shaped sunglasses. "You look amazing! That shade of pink really suits your eyes."