Page 17 of Eat My Moon Dust
“Guess it’s a human thing.” My stomach grumbled as I got to my feet and stretched my arms up high, a draft of cold air hitting my stomach as my ugly green sweater lifted above the waistband of my pants. I sighed happily, pranced off to the printer bay nestled in the hallway, scooped up the glittery plas sheets that had floated to the floor, and placed them in a bin.
Then I put my hands on my hips with confusion. The custom Santa hats and festive headbands that I’d painstakingly designed the day before littered the ground, ready to be dished out to the teachers at the school pod, but my spray cans of biodegradable glitter and colorful baubles thatkind oflooked like Christmas tree ornaments were missing. I glanced at the queue on the printer’s holoscreen…
And winced.
I had absolutely no credits left to my name for another two weeks when our living stipends were deposited into our accounts, and the queue was still as long as my arm.
“Watstakats,”I whisper-swore, gnawing on my lip. That meant I also didn’t have any cache for my food bay. I may have hated the infernal machines, but I still needed to eat. Maybe I had some leftovers…
“Need help?” Omi asked. I squeaked, turning on my knee as I picked up a handful of red hats with white pom poms. My butt hit the door to her old room and it slid open. She looked inside at the clutter of decorations and balked.
There wasso much stuff.Garlands, cut-glass-looking cups and platters, lengths of fabric to use as table cloths, giant red bows, tinsel, these weird fake ferns that kinda looked like poinsettias if they were long and spindly like spider plants… My former roomie squinted with suspicion, crossing her arms as she calculated the cost of my treasure trove.
“Oops!”
I scooted my butt out of the way of the door with a sheepish chuckle. It immediately hissed shut, but Omi waswaytoo perceptive. She was a business owner back on Earth, just like I had been.
Except that she didn’t have a serious holiday addiction.
“That’s alotof stuff, Tin,” she said warily.
“I’ve been printing ever since you moved in with Siatesh,” I said, rising to my feet and dusting my hands off on my thighs. I gave her a bright, easy smile. “So don’t worry!”
“But ya been fronting the cost, right? Tinsley–”
I hefted the container into my hands and jutted my chin towards the living room, interrupting her before she could state the worry written all over her face. “What! It’s nothing. Besides, you know this is my favorite holiday.”
Omi let me push her out into the living room again with a roll of her eyes. “It’s alotof people’s favorite holiday, Tinsley. If people knew it was coming, they’d want to pitch in.”
Yesss.A topical escape route!
“Which,” I set the container on the floor by the sofa and swirled back around with my pointer finger in the air, “isexactlywhy I put up a note yesterday morning for whoever’s behind the Renata Rag!”
“Oh, is there a new one already? I thought it wouldn't come out for a few more days,” Naitee asked from her seat next to Piro. He was still concentrating, bent over his work.
“Nope!” I said, popping my lips together. “But I left a note on the lobby door for them to ask for volunteers. With any luck, I’ll be flush with Santa’s little helpers before next week.”
I grinned at Omi.Suck it.The corner of her mouth turned up and she shook her head with amusement, taking out the last stack of plas to cut. “Want to mix it up?” she asked, plopping back into her chair. “Snowmen and stars maybe?”
“And candy canes,” I agreed.
I sat down on the ground by the box and dished out fresh sheets, thinking about how we could manage red scarves and black hats on the snowmen. Then I paused, remembering the ugly scarf I’d made for Adam the night I’d been abducted, and I brushed my fingertips across the leg of my pants, pretending I could still feel the soft fleecy fabric. My smile drew inward as I took a deep breath, wishing more than anything that the aroma of warm cinnamon and apples filled the air instead of warm plastic.
“What do you think, Naitee?” Piro asked, unfolding his two newest snowflakes. He held them both aloft, the one in his lower hands smaller but incredibly intricate with two miniature pinwheels interrupting the pattern. Naitee leaned in to get a better look at them, her knee bumping against his, and her face brightened, a sheet of long, straight black hair falling over her shoulder towards him.
“Piro, it’s incredible! I’ve never seen snowflakes that pretty. How did you do that?”
“Just…” He cleared his throat, eyes stuck on where her long hair drifted against his upper elbow. A few of his tendrils drifted towards her in a hypnotizing swirl. “Just refolded them a couple times.”
She smiled at me, bobbing her head from side to side merrily. “Can I keep it? After the festival, of course.”
“Pfft, duh,” I agreed immediately.
The marigold stripes on the undersides of Piro’s periwinkle tendrils and forearms flashed in a wave of bright salmony orange. He jolted to his feet, breathing hard, and clapped all four hands over his mane to keep it from writhing.
“Are you okay?” Naitee asked, her smile fading with concern.
Piro blinked his big sapphire eyes at her, slitted nostrils flaring like gills, and licked his lip. “Just, ah, suddenly so… so thirsty. Y-you want some water? I’ll get us all water.”
