© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
“Amara,” Kat growls. “I hate you.”
“Do lighten up, Katherine,” Amara answers. “It’s a holiday. Besides, you can make this my Wintermorn present.”
“I already got you a Wintermorn present,” Kat groans.
There are a few things that Kat hates most of all the horrible things on the Powers’ green earth: boats, eggplant, spiders big enough to fit over your face.
And dresses.
But here she is, forced into a festive Wintermorn dress to match Amara’s own. Amara had been quite eager to dress up for Wintermorn with Kat, and quite absolutely insistent that she would not be taking ‘Absolutely not. Get away from me, Amara. I will fight you.” for an answer, leaving Kat stuffed into a red, fur-trimmed Uncle Wintermorn sort of thing.
And hat, of course.
“You look marvellous, Katherine,” Amara notes.
“I look like some kind of holiday nymph!” Kat protests.
“Well, yes. That is the point, Katherine,” Amara notes.
“And why is this dress so short?” Kat exclaims. “Who are we even trying to show off for? The only other people here are my parents and Dunstana!”
At least she’s wearing leggings. All things considered, looking like a candy cane is probably the lesser of two evils…
“Hmm,” Amara says, thoughtfully touching her chin. “Yes, I do suppose that’s my fault. Well, Katherine, you are mostly legs. I must have miscalculated the amount of material I needed for your dress.”
She shrugs.
“And, well, it was rather difficult to get an accurate measurement of you while you were sleeping,” Amara says.
Kat’s eyes go wide.
“You were measuring me while I was asleep?” she cries. “What. the. heck, Amara!”
Amara shrugs nonchalantly.
“You never would have agreed to let me measure you while you were awake,” she notes. “Desperate times, and all that.”
“So being a creepy stalker was the better option?” Kat asks in bewilderment.
Amara unsubtly reaches for the platter of chips and dip, deftly hiding behind the precept that a lady never talks with her mouth full.
“Ugh,” Kat scoffs.
She decides to soothe her scandalised dignity by helping herself to an entire shrimp ring.
“Katherine,” Amara sighs. “You are such a grump. Have a little holiday spirit.”
She frowns.
“Or at least a little feminine flair every now and then.”
She leans in close to Kat.
“You know, for someone who’s so sensitive about, ahem —” She lowers the pitch of her voice to imitate Kat “— looking like a dude, you really do seem to enjoy dressing like one.”
Kat glowers at Amara and flings a shrimp at her.
“Alright!” Dunstana exclaims gleefully from the other side of the room. “Free Floor Shrimp!”
“I swear,” Amara mutters, shaking her head. “You and your sister…
“I like the furry part,” Kat concedes.
“You’re welcome, Katherine,” Amara says.
“Merry Wintermorn, Amara,” Kat says.
“Merry Wintermorn, Katherine.”
“Hey!” Dustana says as she approaches Kat and Amara. “You look just like Uncle Wintermorn!”
She frowns as she ponders the implications of this. Her eyes go wide with horror as the realisation sets in.
She gasps.
“Wait. You didn’t kill Uncle Wintermorn and steal his stuff, did you?”
She looks over her shoulder.
“Mom! Kat ruined Wintermorn!”
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