You know what is mine and what is Alison Croggon's...
Hem skipped down the street, dressed as a girl. He didn't know why he had betted against Maerad. He, at the time, had thought taht it would be fun, and that he would win.
"Why didn't I listen to Saliman?" He muttered to himself.
He glanced down at the dress he was wearing. It was long, frilly, and bright pink. To make things worse, he had had to submitt himself to letting his sister choose what the dress would be. Why had he betted?
"Wow! Hem?!" Saliman's voice came from the side of him.
He stopped and glared at the man in an unladylike fashion. "What?"
"Lost the bet?"
"NO! I am just wearing girl clothes and skipping around outside for no reason!"
"Lost the bet?"
"I just told you!"
"No, Hem, you didn't." Saliman laughed. "You said something that I know you would rather me not repeat."
"AH!" Hem stomped his foot and crossed his arms in a girly fashion.
Saliman burst into laughter. "You lost the bet, didn't you?"
Hem felt his face grow hot. "You are ruining my pride."
"No, I am not doing so on purpose." Saliman paused. "I guess your sister did come up with a way to get you to quit betting."
"Maerad." He muttered. He turned and stormed off. Just as some drunk called him a cute little lassie.
Great. He was never going to be able to walk these streets again. Great.
