A/N: I know. I've taken ages again. I mean, it's made all the worse because of the fact that I'm on holidays now, so technically that means I should have had more time to update, now that exams are over, etc. I swear I will get on a roll, eventually… Sooner or later, anyway. And guess what? This is my twentieth chapter! Woo hoo! (It'd be cool to get 200 reviews to match it…)
And thanks to all my reviewers: you guys make my day. :D I'd like to hear from you; it doesn't matter if you review every chapter or haven't reviewed once: anytime is a good time :P
December 25th
I open one eye cautiously and wait. I can hear no signs of movement, breakfast or various forms of drunken hangovers from last night. It must mean that the entire household is still asleep. It's sort of good, because what I'm about to do isn't exactly sanctioned.
It's so early that it's pitch black outside (which, you know, isn't exactly that strange. It's pitch black ninety-nine per cent of the time in my room ever since I blew that scary doll that went "Mama! Mama!" up against the window. It was a bummer, 'cause the doll scared the pants of Michael. Heh.).
The floorboard creaks loudly as I jump down from my bed, because it's so high (sucks for me, seeing as how I'm short and all). Oh well. It's not like anyone hears it, 'cause I can't hear anyone leaping out of bed and roaring, "KA-TIE!" In that way parents do when you just sigh and go, "Okay. What have I done wrong now?" Usually it's something like leaving a pin on the floor or a seat in a highly unfortunate spot. You know. The usual.
When I get down to the Christmas tree, there's tons of presents under it, most of which are for Chris from his buddies. I bet they're all joke items or something, like a tin that you open and a giant laughing hippopotamus pops out laughing maniacally, which makes you so scared you wet your pants. (Not that it's happened to me, or anything…)
So I guess I can hardly be blamed when I decide to test one out. I mean, it isn't for my own selfish reasons, or anything. I'm doing it purely out of the goodness of my heart; making sure my brother won't receive a shock that would give him a heart attack and tragically end his short, short life. I, on the other hand, would be much more liable to be able to survive such a horrifying surprise, as my young heart can withstand it. So, you see, it isn't for my own self-gain. I'm only thinking of my beloved brother.
The present I pick is purple with hot pink and fluoro yellow polka dots. (I think there's something about Chris that he hasn't quite revealed to us yet.) It's tied with a pretty blue ribbon and everything. So I yank off the ribbon eagerly, and slowly put my hand into the box…
"AUGHHHH!"
Well. That was a tad scary.
Understatement of the year.
Basically, the moment I put my hand in something slimy touched my hand. And, I mean, come on. What would be your first reaction if you put your hand in a purple box with pink and yellow polka dots in a dark, scary room because you were afraid of waking up your family, and then this disgusting slimy thing touches your hand? You scream. So that's what I did. I screamed… and screamed… and screamed.
Until I run out of air, but I keep screaming anyway. And do you know what happens when you run out of air but keep on screaming? A) You turn blue, B) It sounds like you're letting the air out of a balloon, C) Well, I haven't thought of one yet.
Mum was the first one to run downstairs. It's like a soon as you even cough, she's up and out of bed and offering you warm pumpkin soup. "Katie! What's wrong?" She cries, aghast.
I'm starting to feel faint from all the screaming and lack of oxygen. Those little sponge things on my lungs must be getting a good work out right now.
"Bell! What the hell?" Lee's next, being the kind and considerate boyfriend he is. He takes one look at my hand and walks out the kitchen door into the backyard, no doubt to throw up. He's never exactly had a stomach made of steel, but you would think that someone who spends as much time around spiders as he does would be made of stronger stuff.
Dad comes down calmly. After years of leaving with Alex, Chris, Michael and I, he's used to dramas- which, admittedly, are mostly ones that I've caused. But whatever. Don't want to even go there. He doesn't even say anything, just stares at me placidly before taking a seat on the couch.
Alex comes down with a book in his hand, and doesn't even bother glancing my way. "Strange," he mutters. "Did you know that the snorkelgeek geese are actually a member of the duck family?"
I stop screaming long enough to convey my deep displeasure at having the attention directed away from myself, then resume it again. Still no sound comes out, and I think right about now I'm starting to get severe irreversible brain damage.
Chris and Michael come down at the same time. Chris takes one look at my hand and yells. "My present! What are you doing stealing my present? Nooooo!"
Whoa. Hypochondriac much? Jeez. It's not as if he wouldn't be doing the exact same thing I am now. He's just acting as if he wouldn't, hoping to get to open one of my presents and out me with whatever strange, eccentric thing the twins have made for me this year.
Michael, however, has the reaction that tops them all. As soon as he sees me he bursts into laughter and comes up and slaps on the back so hard that I'm forced to stop screaming and have a sharp intake of breath. "See," he says pompously, smirking at me, "you only have to tap her a little."
Gah. I hate him.
"Katie!" My Great-Aunt Tessa exclaims gleefully, enveloping me in huge hug.
"Hi, Two-To- I mean, Aunt Tessa," I stammer, trying to catch a breath. She releases me and then leans down to pinch me first on one cheek, and then the other.
"You haven't grown much," she coos, beaming. Then she dumps her bag and large, large fur coat on Lee who struggles under the weight. He wobbles a bit, but manages to find his balance before he completely falls over. Which is good, because if he fell over underneath that coat I doubt we'd be able to find him again.
I shrug. "Yeah, well. You know what they say. Hogwarts food isn't exactly nutritious."
Two-Tonne Tessa frowns. "Well, we'll have to remedy that, won't we… Expect to hear a Howler from me in the first week back," she announces firmly, making up her mind. She pinches my cheek one last time before following Mum and Dad into the living room.
"No one says that," Lee hisses beneath the coat, as I grab his arm and literally guide him into the lounge room to dump Tessa's bags on the couch.
"I know," I grin. "But you don't know how good Tessa's brownies are." The thought of the delicious, chocolate covered fudge brownies that seem to melt in your mouth almost make me drool… until I remember that time I saw her cat licking the pan. I mean, sure, it was after the brownies had been taken out, but so what? I didn't see what she did with it afterwards. Maybe she just put it straight back in the cupboard. Shudder.
"I'm… all… good," Lee puffs, having finally gotten rid of the fur coat. "What is that, anyway?"
"It's a coat." I tell him simply, raising an eyebrow. What did he think it was? Pantyhose?
"No, retard," Lee bites back. "I mean what sort of fur?"
I have absolutely no idea. I lean forward and sniff. Hmm. Mouldy. Dusty. "I have come to the conclusion," I announce tumultuously, "that it is fake!"
"Yay!" Michael shouts in a high pitched voice, passing through. "Thank Merlin!"
Whatever. I have the oddest family ever.
The doorbell rings again, and Mum pokes her head through the door. She's looking a bit frazzled, like she always gets when Dad's family arrive on time and hers all pop around the time dessert is served. "Katie, can you please get that? Oh, I hope it's not Magnus and Marcella," she mutters under her breath. "Last time they came Michael ended up locking them in the disused outhouse… However that happened, I don't know…"
I snicker quietly to myself as I head towards the front door. Magnus and Marcella are possibly the most into each other couple I have ever met. No, really. They're worse than Alicia and George- that's how serious the matter is. It's disgusting, and a few Christmases ago, when Michael was just beginning to understand the concept of 'girls and boys don't give each other cooties' he decided to lock them in the derelict outhouse 'just to see what would happen'.
Needless to say, when we found them seven hours later, it wasn't pretty. And for that reason only, we've avoided having them over until this year, when we couldn't think of any excuses after Magnus practically invited himself. So we're stuck with them slobbering all over each other. It'll be funnier when the little kids arrive, because the adults will all run to them and shield their eyes.
"Hi, Magnus! Hey, Marcella!" I keep a cheery tone on my voice. In my family, hardly anyone says 'Aunt' or 'Uncle'. Mum likes to think that we're a 'free spirited family'; I think we just have never had any discipline in our lives. But hey, that suits me fine, so I'm not complaining.
"Katiekins!" Marcella coos, pulling herself away from Magnus long enough to greet me. What is with my family and cooing? I'm not a baby any more! Then again, they still do it with Alex, who left home years ago and has a full time job, so I don't know what I'm whingeing about. It must be a Bell thing.
"Who's your little friend?" Magnus asks, attempting to stoop down to Lee's face. He has considerable trouble with this, seeing as how Lee's less than an inch shorter than him. After trying to bend his legs the right amount for a couple of minutes, Magnus gives up and straightens to his full height.
"Oh." Remember, Katie? Ha. I forgot about Lee. "This is Lee. He's staying with us." Just as Magnus and Marcella begin to move towards each other again, I hastily jump in the middle and exclaim, "I just remembered! Mum wants you to go into the living room with the rest of the family!"
I let go of them as they walk around the corner, only to glance at Lee, who's turning green at the sight of something over my shoulder. Just in time, I look around to see Magnus hit Marcella on the butt. Ew. My family, the pacifists. If we don't believe in free love, who will?
Still in a grossed out haze, Lee lets me push him along until the fire in the lounge room. I sit against it, letting the heat warm me up again after standing at the door for what felt like ten minutes. I only hope that no one takes it into their head to Floo through it. I mean, we have a fireplace in the living room that normal people Floo from, but knowing my family they'd still muck it up and end up going through my head.
There's a sudden crash! In the living room and a sudden frenzy of voices. I sigh. Now the party will really be full of eccentrics.
"Kay-teee!" A blur of eye blinding neon pink attaches itself to my head.
"Ah… choking…" Lee manages to pry it off me, and I can see that it's my second cousin once removed, Delicia. See what I mean? Everyone in the entire family got ancient names except for my brothers and me. Talk about unfair!
"Kay-teee!" Delicia plops down onto my foot, still squealing loud enough to make a banshee ashamed.
"Um. Hi." I think I've met her once in my life, when she was about two. So about five years ago. I mean, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, let alone an unimportant cousin (harsh, but true) whom I met five years ago. "This is Lee," I offer, pointing at Lee who grimaces. "He's your new friend." I was trying to see if she'd immediately let go of me and run to Lee, but it didn't work. Damn.
And then, whilst I am still contemplating what to do with this girl who has suddenly chained herself to my foot, I hear the dreaded words that seal my fate. "Katie and her friend will look after the children."
"Noooo!" I don't realise that I've spoken aloud (or more like screamed in anguish) until mum pokes her head through the kitchen door.
"You alright, Katie?"
No. You just made me head-babysitter of the Bell kids, no less. I mean, I hate kids. I don't know the first thing about them. If they cry I just sit there and stare at them. If they fight I wouldn't break it off; I'd give them a block so they could hit the other kid with it. I'm just not a 'child' person.
"Um, Lee just said that the Tornadoes might win the Christmas Day Cup," I lie. "And, um, you know how much I love those…"
"Kestrels," Lee hisses under his breath, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah. Um, the Kestrels. I really want them to, um, you know. Win."
And, despite the fact that I can't lie to save myself, my mum doesn't say anything. Instead she nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I think they might have a chance," she says slowly. I mean, I doubt that Mum even has the faintest idea of what Quidditch is about, let alone know who would and wouldn't win. "Okay. The children are coming into the lounge room, okay? You'll mind them, won't you, Katie?"
I almost say no, if not for the wheedling look on her face. "Yes, Mum."
Mum beams. "Thank you! Now, if I could just remember where I put the flour…" she turns away distractedly.
"Great," I say to Lee. "I just sealed out fate. You wait. They'll be coming in, wanting to be my mate."
Lee snorts. "You'll be a poet one day, Bell." Then he bursts into laughter.
Okay. So he's not going to be much of a help until he controls his behaviour. We need a plan. I know. As soon as they come in we can tell them to go to bed, and then when lunch is ready we wake them up. They eat, and then Lee can read them a bed time story, and they can go back to bed. Then, when their parents are ready to collect them, we wake them up and hand them over. Simple. Fool proof. Ingenious.
"No! I got the Magical Mantee! You got the Cool Centaur! Duh!" A shrill voice says as a sudden mass of people that sound not unlike a herd of rampaging unicorns tumble into the room. "No, Drucilla! I'm telling! Kay-tee!"
Notice how none of them can say a normal name such as mine properly, yet they can all say each other's names without the slightest stutter?
Drucilla comes up to Lee and stares at his hair. "Why do you have worms in your hair?" She asks innocently. "I had worms, once, but Mummy told me not to eat them because-"
"Now look what you've done!" Another slightly hyperactive kid screams, running into the room displaying a figurine of sorts. Upon closer inspection, I can see that it's actually Variety Valerie, a doll that was popular when I was about five. Now it's just… bizarre. "I wanted Auror Valerie, and you've given me Herbologist!"
I mean, I can see the kid's point. Getting a Herbologist Valerie instead of an Auror is like wanting a unicorn but getting a doxy. And who in their right mind would actually buy a Herbologist Valerie in the first place? It probably comes with it's own miniature Devil's Snare, pot and all.
Oh. The kid's looking straight at me. Well, it wasn't my fault. I've been away at Hogwarts the whole term. Oh, wait… it was. Mum made us go shopping for all of the Christmas presents yesterday, and I'd just thrown in the first thing I could find. That means I actually touched it! My hand! It burns!
"…Even a Professor Valerie would have been acceptable," the kid says, shaking his head disappointedly. "I might have even allowed a Housekeeper Valerie. But, on no grounds can I accept Herbologist Valerie. You have to take it back," he tells me, and promptly holds it out to me.
"Um, look, sorry…" I begin, realising too late that I don't know his name.
"It's Phoebus," Drucilla informs me in an all-knowing voice. She's still staring fixedly at Lee's hair, who keeps shuffling over toward me in a lame attempt to get her to stop. But as he moves, her head moves too, and so he moves quicker and so does she. It's amusing to watch, but right now I have to get back to the situation at hand. I'm sure a nine-year-old girl won't overpower Lee… or, if she does, I don't think he'll exactly brag to anyone about it.
"Yeah. Phoebe… I think you should just keep the doll. Really," I add as he gives me a doubtful glance. "It might… um, be worth money some day." Actually, they just keep lowering in value over time, for some reason. I think mostly because nobody wants them.
"Well, okay," he agrees. Then he looks at the other kids, more of whom just appeared. "Who wants to play dress ups?"
"Me!" All the little kiddies scream, and so run off to our spare room where all the junk we've ever collected over time is stashed. 'Course, to make it all fit we have to miniaturise the lot, but as long as no muggles ever go in there (which I don't see why they would… the arm chair starts jumping up and down and trying to bite your foot as so as you step in there, so you can see why I try to avoid that particular situation as often as possible) it's all good.
After we finish playing dress ups (during which Drucilla chose to dress Lee in a short (kinda trashy, actually) pink dress with practically eight inch high purple stilettos and a permed blonde wig with blue eye-shadow and pink lipstick) it's time for the annual 'family lunch'.
And excuse me if I don't seem too excited- I've just been dressed up in a vest and musty suspenders with a badge flashing 'kiss me' in neon yellow flashing across my forehead. Unfortunately it seems like there was a permanent sticking charm there or something, because it's refusing to come off…
Everyone's all, "ooh, look at the children dressed up!" when they see the kiddies coming to the table still in their high heels three sizes too big and ugly orange mullets. But when it comes to Lee and Katie, noooo. Then they're all; "Do you think Katie's boyfriend's gay? I'm not so sure about Katie, either," and unsubtly nudging each other. I mean, don't they think I have enough on my plate right now without being accused of being a cross-dresser?
"Katie, darling," Orlene begins (another aunt) as she passes the bowl of potatoes to Ulysses (another distant uncle). "There's absolutely nothing wrong with having a fetish for dressing in the opposite sex's clothing. Why, I myself still do it sometimes, when I'm aching to look like a male!"
There's a murmur of agreement among the adults. It seems that among the Bell/Honfridus households, cross-dressing is an apparently common thing. I risk a glance over to Lee on my right, and he looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. I bet he probably doesn't even believe them. The sad thing is, I'd bet ten galleons that everybody here is a hundred per cent serious- except maybe for my dad. I think he's just giving in to peer pressure.
"You know," the person on my left, Sol (my mother's aunt's brother) confides to me in a whisper, "I quite enjoy it. Especially during the summer- wearing a dress is a wonderful way to get some breeze down there."
This time Lee can't contain his snort, and it's so loud that everyone in the room stops their (admittedly rambunctious) conversations and looks up in surprise. "Does your family not believe in free love, Leroy?" Ulysses asks, agape.
I groan and wonder if it's possible to die from embarrassment. If not, I wish it were. I honestly would not care if a freaking hippopotamus charged through the house right now with a mermaid riding side saddle with her pitchfork and swallowed me up. Anything to remove me from the situation. Now Lee's going to think I come from a family of freaks! Or, worse, conciliators!
"Um," Lee says, looking down at his plate and fiddling with his fork, "I don't know. I mean, I guess they're pretty… straight," he says finally. Then he looks up to see if we get it, but everyone's just staring at him, unable to comprehend the meaning of 'straight'. "You know. They're… somewhat old fashioned."
"He means they're fuddy duddies," Michael announces to the group, who all breathe a sigh of relief that the awkward moment is over and release a collective, "oooh."
Lee looks somewhat offended, but not nearly as much as he does when 'Two-Tonne' Tessa says, "so, they're anal-retentive, then?" all casually, like it's not as if she just majorly insulted Lee's parents. "Where are they, did you say?"
Lee's face is priceless. It's a mixture of 'I can't believe you just said anal retentive without even cracking a smile' and 'I can't believe you just called my parents anal retentive'. "They're at a conference," he tells her flatly.
The room is still deathly quiet. "I see," Orlene says eventually. "I'm guessing you're not used to such… forthrightness?"
"Well," Lee replies immediately (which is sure to get him into trouble- he can be almost as bad as I am at times), "I guess you could say that I've never really been around hippies before."
The effect is amazing. Forks drop, inhalers are fumbled for and glasses of butterbeer and firewhisky (which everyone, not just the adults are allowed to drink) are knocked over. He has officially bowled the Bell/Honfridus households for a sixer. Ha. And it's not everyone who can do that.
"You know, dear," Marcella stops sucking on Magnus' face long enough to say, (after all, it's not as if the rest of the family will be game to say anything until at least after they've downed a few bottles of strong firewhisky) "we do prefer pacifists. Or, failing that, flower children will do."
See? See what I am put through? I send a dubious glance towards Lee, who cracks up so hard that he ends up flying face first into our home-made mashed potatoes. When he comes for air, he is actually able to say something. "Honestly," he says with a laugh, shaking his head, "hippies. They think that drug laws don't apply to them."
Bitter much?
A/N: Yeah. Yet another odd, odd chapter. Meh. They will get better one day, I swear. It's just that I've been suffering Writer's Block (nooooo!). But I do have a few good(ish) ideas that are coming along soon, so that's a bright side. But the good news is that you didn't have to endure this one for too long, seeing as how it's a fair bit shorter than the other ones I've been writing lately.