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Beryl unlocked and opened the front door, but paused at the sound of something dragging over the floor as the door swung inward. “What’s that?”
Seeing as I hadn’t lit any candles before I left, I flicked on the main light and winced at the staticky hum from the lightbulb. Stepping inside after her and closing the door, I looked down and saw the boxes I’d kicked inside before rushing out. “Oh, some packages that got delivered.”
“What are they?” Beryl asked with interest as she tugged off her boots.
I shrugged, leaning down to do the same. “I dunno. I can’t remember ordering anything.”
She shrugged out of her coat. “Is it jewellery stuff?”
“Maybe. You can open them if you want.” I held out my hand for her coat, then turned to hang it up as she knelt down by the boxes.
As I took off my own coat, I heard the rip of cardboard followed by the crinkle of plastic. Then: “Scrub… Shoes?”
Gut lurching, I whirled around, staring as Beryl pulled out the ugliest pair of plastic shoes I’d ever seen. With scrubbing brushes for soles.
“Huh?” I said, deciding to feign ignorance.
Beryl pursed her lips, clearly fighting off laughter as she looked up at me. “Did you order these, Greid?”
“What?” I laughed unconvincingly. “Why would I… Maybe they were delivered to the wrong house.”
She immediately grabbed the box and peered at the label. “Mmnope, addressed to Greid var Rorik.” Pulling a coupon out of the box, she added, “This says you get ten percent off your next purchase for being such a loyal customer.”
“Loyal?” I let out a squawk that was supposed to be laughter. “I’ve maybe ordered, like, one thing from them before. I can’t even remember…”
As I trailed off, knowing she could see right through my terrible lying skills, Beryl stood up, still holding the shoes. God, they were hideous.
“Will you put them on for me, Greid?” she asked solemnly.
I glared at her, my ears fluttering madly. “Why don’t you put them on?”
“They’re in your size.”
“That’s just… a coincidence!” I grabbed the shoes with a huff. “Fine.”
Face hot, I shoved the ugly shoes on and straightened. All the bristles immediately bent under my weight, making me topple forward and pinwheel my arms until I managed to catch myself against the wall. “Oh my god, they suck.”
Beryl was snorting with laughter, her nose running and tears leaking from her eyes. “Can you even walk in them?”
“I don’t think—” I tried taking a tentative step forward, lifting my leg high as if that would soften the impact. I wobbled precariously, but it worked, so I did it again.
“You look—” Beryl was practically crying, almost doubled over. “You look like a cat wearing socks.”
“I shouldn’t have showed you that video,” I muttered, but snorted with laughter as I found my stride and managed to make it down the hall, still walking like an idiot. “Did it.”
“Well done,” Beryl said, wiping her eyes as I sat on the stairs to pull them off. “Are you actually gonna use them? What are they even for?”
“They’re for cleaning your porch steps,” I grumbled. “They seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Really?” Beryl glanced back at the front door. “Are our porch steps really dirty?”
My face spikes flexed with pleasure at hearing her call them our porch steps. Beryl saw this as her home—our home—and that made me embarrassingly happy.
It also made me realise that she deserved to see all of it. Sighing, I gave her a resigned look, the ugly shoes dangling from my fingers by their Velcro straps. “I guess it’s time I showed you my Room of Shame.”
“Your what?” She stilled, eyes snapping with excitement. “Wait… the mysterious closet?”
Coughing awkwardly, I admitted, “It’s not actually a closet.”
