The paper girl came into being on the day that Judy Lancaster, age five, drew her on a paper napkin at McDonald’s on a cold November evening. She had no name. She had no distinct features, other than two arms, two legs, a very large head, two long strands of hair, and a smile.
The paper girl appeared everywhere Judy went. To restaurants, theme parks, play dates, or simply in the quiet of Judy’s bedroom. Everywhere Judy went, the paper girl would be created and carted around with her creator.
There were times that the paper girl couldn’t see very well because Judy forgot an eye or she became too frisky with the crayon and her hair would cover her eyes. But paper girl didn’t mind. She liked seeing the world of Judy as simple or grand as Judy’s imagination would permit. Judy would do a quick sketch, hold up paper girl, and tell her all about the magical land she was visiting. Some days it would be a fantastic forest with giant trees, colorful flowers, and green green grass. Other days, the villainess Weather would hunt her down as raindrops pelted into paper girl and washed her away. She never liked Weather very much.
Mostly, paper girl loved how, as Judy would draw, she would speak to paper girl, as if they were the best of friends. Judy always drew paper girl’s head first so she had opportunities to see Judy as she worked. Some days, she would laugh and draw. Other days, she would be focused. Paper girl knew when Judy was focused because she would furrow her brows and stick her tongue out the side of her mouth. It was in those moments that paper girl had all the time in the world to study her maker.
She loved her. She loved that Judy took the time out of her day, several times a week, to create her. She loved that Judy told her stories and occasionally drew special magical lands for her to spend time in. But mostly she loved the way Judy talked to her, as if she were the most important thing in the world.
One day, Judy did the most amazing thing. She gave paper girl a name. Peggy. Paper girl could not believe her great fortune! Judy had drawn a picture of herself and paper girl in the same picture and as she finished coloring in the picture, she carefully printed her name above her own image and “Peggy” above paper girl’s. She held the drawing up, smiling big, and said, “Peggy. You are my best friend.”
Peggy (no longer paper girl) had such great love for Judy in that moment. She had given her a name! Her own name! Normally, Judy would give her pictures to Mrs. Lancaster, who would smile and say, “That’s lovely, Judy. Do you think she (for Peggy had no name yet) would like a spot on the fridge?”
Judy would giggle and say, “Yes, mama!”
So the old picture of Peggy would come down and the new one would go up. As Judy matured, Peggy’s features became more defined. She felt more coordinated, prettier, and more proportioned. No longer did her legs feel thin and weak, or her hair quite so heavy atop her head.
Peggy enjoyed the fridge because she could watch the family at dinner time. Mrs. Lancaster would prepare dinner. Mr. Lancaster would come in, grab a taste of whatever was in the pot, and scoot away before Mrs. Lancaster could push him away. Peggy knew she wasn’t mad, though. Mrs. Lancaster always smiled and she shooed him off. Peggy thought Mr. Lancaster did it on purpose because it made his wife smile.
Judy’s little brother, Joey, would sometimes come into the kitchen and do mean things to her like draw over her eyes in black pencil so she couldn’t see, or tear the paper and cut off her legs. Peggy didn’t like Joey very much. He always wanted to make Judy angry or sad. Some days, he would even snatch Peggy from the fridge and crumple her up. That made Peggy afraid until, the next time, Judy would draw her once again.
The times between drawings seemed like an eternity to Peggy. She had no body. No mouth. No ears. All she had was time. Time to think. Time to dream. Time to wonder. Time to worry. Some days Peggy worried that Judy would draw another friend and Peggy would only exist as a memory.
