A Butt for the Holidays: A Christmas Fable
The air tastes like electricity. Stairs are no obstacle; I take them four at a time. If Mom saw, she would be furious. Dad would pretend to be furious, too, but he’d secretly be proud of my stair-leaping prowess. I am the best Stair Jumper in the house. Downstairs, the scene couldn’t be more perfect. Pine needles. Tin ornaments. Bulbs straining to give off light without catching fire. Dozens of neatly-wrapped gifts. Except Debra is there, too. She’s up. She’s awake. Debra. The girl who eats salt in the morning and spits it at people the rest of the day. The girl who chews gerbils. The girl whose eyes melt happiness. The worst sister. Debra. “You slept late.” She’s nuts. It’s 5:37am. Not even Dad…
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