My mother picks up her handbag and lunch cooler that were sitting on the floor before standing.

"Do you want me to get the garage for you?" I ask, even though we both know I don't want to.

She smiles, "Only if you want to." The wrinkles at the edges of her eyes stand out more than usual this morning. Is she wearing make-up to work? In Summer? That's pretty odd, even for my mother.

I get out of bed, the tiles beneath my bare feet are pleasantly cool and do more to wake me than the harsh sunlight that was rapidly invading my downstairs bedroom.

Mum reverses the car, painstakingly slow, pausing halfway out to tuck in the side mirrors of her brand-new Subaru. When she finally swings the ocean blue coloured SUV out into the street, I grab the milk crate that sits next to the mower, turn it over and use it to reach the handle of the garage door.

I wish we had an automatic roller door. Mum should have used some of her inheritance money from Opa's estate to renovate this tired old house instead of buying that seven-seater monstrosity of a car. Not that I mind us finally having a car with air-conditioning, but it just looks so out of place. No one else in this street have new cars. Most people in this street don't even own working cars. Not to mention there's only the two of us. What do we need the other five seats for?

In the kitchen.

Our other cat is curled up asleep on the floor in front of the sink. I will have to risk her wrath to switch the jug on but a cup of English Breakfast while I open my gifts will be worth it.

As expected, she scratches me for daring to disturb her. "God, I hate you Princess," I say as she darts away hissing into the lounge area. My mother's cat, a Sphynx, has an unfortunate body to match her personality. My legs are a road map of scars. A testament to years of her inbred rage. I rub a good dollop of Savlon cream from the fridge against my latest laceration and get on with brewing my tea. While I wait, I think longingly of the time before Princess joined our household. If only my aunt hadn't gone through her fascination with ancient Egypt phase. If only my cousin Tash didn't have an allergy to even hairless cats. If only my mother wasn't such a pushover.

I hear my alarm going off downstairs as I open the first immaculately wrapped present from the pile. A new set of Prismacolor's from my father and almost stepmother Katerina. They splurged for the 150 pack. That must be the divorce guilt.

Hard to believe it's only been three years since my parents split up and mum moved us here to .

I put the pencil case on the chair beside me and grabbed another gift bag from the table. It is covered in teddy bears dressed up as pirates. This one has to be from my aunt. She's mad about everything skull and crossbones at the moment much to the embarrassment of her daughter.

Inside was a couple of moleskin notebooks and a fifty-dollar gift voucher for The Book Nook, a cafe at the local library. My cousin Tash must have told her to buy it after I gushed over the chocolate frappes they sell there to her a couple of weeks ago.

I let myself feel sad for a moment that I am probably going to blow through this in the first week of the Christmas holidays seeing as I have nothing better to do with my time. I mean it's not like I have friends to hang out with, what else is there to do asides read in a town this small?

I take a last gulp of my milky tea and reach for the next present. Clothes. Two dresses. Both with elbow length sleeves with way too much lace on them.

The card my mother had tucked in between them slides to the floor as I hold the first one up. It is a very bright yellow. One might call it a mixture of sunshine and canary. This is the sort of dress, if I did wear it out, that would attract far too much attention. The sort of attention that would probably start up renewed chants of Clairy Fairy from the douche trio.

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