Stencils
an excerpt

As more assorted family members entered the room, the chairs either side of me were filled up by Harry and Lucie, the latter of whom started nattering on about how much she liked her new room and how she was soooo sorry that I had been forced to move but Granny must have thought that my new room was much better and more grown up than my original one.
“I doubt that,” I muttered bitterly, not looking at her. “I doubt that very much.”
Lucie paused for a moment, tipping her head to one side. “What makes you say that?” she asked sweetly.
I sighed exhaustedly. I knew Lucie would run and blab to my parents if I told her the truth, so I just shrugged instead.
“No reason,” I answered vaguely, diverting my gaze to the tablecloth, which was dark red and frilly with golden yellow stars spattered at random intervals across it. It was supposed to be orientated with Christmas, but I didn’t see how it was connected to the birth of Jesus or Santa Claus or reindeer or even trees at all. We didn’t have a star on top of our tree that year, we had a tacky homemade angel spawned from a cardboard toilet roll, fluffy pipecleaners and a lot of glitter. Apparently I had made it when I was five, but it looked more like a Lucie-and-Clarabel masterpiece to me. Or even a Boone masterpiece.
“Do you not like your new room?” Lucie enquired innocently. Her eyelids seemed to flutter a little, which gave me the impression that she was actually very jealous that I got a pretty pink room whereas she got stuck with a grotesque and bland room plastered in cream and simplicity.
“Not particularly,” I muttered truthfully.
Lucie looked thrilled, her eyes widening with hope. “Don’t you? Oh, can I have it?” she clamoured, sitting up at her chair and smiling at me pleadingly.
“I guess,” I shrugged dully.
She gasped, barely able to contain her excitement. “Wow! Really? Do you mean it?” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together.
My eyes wandered across the table. Gran was sitting on the other side, a few seats along. I watched her for a moment as my head was processing my final reply. She didn’t appear to be moving very much, but her lips were pursed and her eyes glassy and glazed over as she stared absently in our direction, without really looking at us.
I paused, my mouth open slightly, the words, “Sure, whatever, go ahead,” on the tip of my tongue. I licked my parched lips slowly and carefully, my mind preparing the complete sentence that would escape my voicebox.
“Um, actually, Lucie...” I began uncertainly, the words spilling out of my mouth of their own accord. “I... I don’t think we could swap after all.”
Lucie pouted and her face crumpled with disappointment. I thought for one fearful moment that she was going to cry, but fortunately she managed to compose herself.
“Okay,” she mumbled. “I understand.”
I felt bad for her, in a way, but I knew I would feel even worse if I had just let her take my room like that, and the hand paid her a visit too. I felt my heart begin to thud just thinking about it, let alone seeing, so I couldn’t even imagine what it would do to Lucie. Or Clarabel, if she rushed in from her own room upon hearing the screams...