Chapter Thirty

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A/N: I decided to post this chapter a day earlier, because of my friend at school. SHOUTOUT TO YOU LISA! =) 

-Sophia, xoxo

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The first few days of the holidays passed in a flash, and despite all of the activities my parents dragged my sister and I on, my mind has always been set on the furious look in Asher's eyes right after I gave him that stupid nickname. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

It's been gnawing at me ever since, and even though I'm still pissed at him for speaking to us that way, the irreplaceable feeling of him close to me has been more than present in my daily routine, a clear reminder of our feud. 

I hate it. 

The snow lays in crystal clear sheets of pure whiteness outside, draping the landscape around our warm and cosy house in a comfortable blanket. I roll out of bed with groans that must resemble a zombie, and land onto the wooden floor with a thud. Moaning in slight pain, I slowly stand up and slide my feet into my reindeer slippers. I wrap my snowflake printed robe around myself and snuggle into its fluffy warmth, proceeding down the hall with my blonde hair tied into a ponytail and a fresh face. 

Even though Asher's absence is a prominent nerve-wracking feeling in my stomach, I will enjoy this day that only rolls around once a year, whether he's here or not. 

To be honest, I don't even care!

Lies, lies, lies. 

Mary bounces out of her room with eyes full of life and I bring forward a smile onto my own face to match hers.

"Santa's been here!" She exclaims excitedly, following behind me in quick strides to catch up with me as we take the stairs down. 

-Do you think he's left you that sparkly poop?" I question, and she giggles behind me. 

-Noooo, don't be silly." I roll my eyes and she giggles again, "I wished fow blue spawkly poop."

I shake my head at her and we both follow the smell of home-made cinnamon rolls to the open planned kitchen and living room, where our eyes land on stacks of beautifully wrapped gifts. They have all been nicely displayed in arrays of colours, under the brightly lit christmas tree in the corner next to the TV. Dad raises his head up from his newspaper when he sees us, and a welcoming smile frames his face to replace the frown that had been there before from something he'd read. 

I ignore that sour grimace he'd had before we entered and walk over to kiss him on the top of his head, Mary peering up next to him on the couch and doing the same on his cheek. "Merry christmas Dad!" We both sings, and he laughs at us. "Merry christmas, girls. I reckon Mum needs your help in the kitchen Camilla." He looks up at me over his shoulder with a pointed look that signals urgency, and then turns to look down at Mary, "Why don't we watch something on the TV in here Mary, while we wait." 

-But what about pwesents?" Mary questions with a slight tinge of sadness in her voice. Dad laughs and ruffles her hair which annoys her further. Poor her, we're all walking around messing up her little golden curls constantly. 

-Don't you worry, we're opening presents soon." 

I tune out their voices and spot Mum patiently preparing a row of delicacies, with bacon, eggs, rolls, drinks, the all displayed on silver trays ready to go. She's currently got her back to me, humming softly along to a song playing on the radio as she flips over a pancake in the pan by the stove. The large window lets in the early morning light, and the snowflakes continue the fall outside as the invisible sun provides enough bright light to illuminate the whiteness and cast reflections on the glass. 

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