Chapter Thirty-Four

Crochet wanted to buzz with excitement like a fly caught in a cup, but with a huge effort of will she tamped down on all of those emotions and instead made sure to at least look like the respectable little sister Big Sis expected her to be.

One hand tucked in Big Sis’ own, the other pressed up against her tummy to help her stand tall and proud as she walked, her shoes click-clacking on the sidewalk with every step and her extra big purse swaying by her side. This was exciting. Crochet was going to meet someone very, very important. Not only that, but it meant spending a few hours alone with her Big Sis, not a single other sister in sight.

The shop they stopped before was small, more of a hole in the wall than a proper storefront, and it looked like it has been recently patched up. The windows were clean, but surrounded by old frames that had been painted over. The sidewalk was cracked all around the entrance, but someone had filled in the cracks with asphalt.

‘Parian’s Boutique’ read a sign hanging above the doorway. It looked like a place that was trying very hard to look presentable and fix itself up. Crochet immediately approved.

Behind the windows she could see pretty, colourful dresses on a few mannequins and giant teddy bears and plush tigers sitting around on stands. She was practically buzzing with excitement to rush in and see everything, but she wasn’t Cheshire, so she looked up to Big Sis and gave her a demure smile. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Big Sis said. It was clear that Big Sis was as nervous as Crochet was excited.

Crochet gave Big Sis’ hand a squeeze. “C’mon,” she said. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

The doorbell jungled as they walked in and were immediately greeted by a pleasant voice. “Hello, and welcome to Parian’s. I’ll be with you shortly!”

Crochet blinked a few times to adjust to the slightly brighter room, then let go of her Big Sis’ hand so that she could do a proper twirl.

Old, well worn wooden floors, racks on every wall with spaces left open to display completed dresses and plenty of teddy bears, lions, tigers, octopi and other fluffy animals staring at her with a thousand button eyes.

She grinned at the room, her power stretching out to pet every plush and rub against all the pretty dresses.

At the bad of the room, standing next to a counter and talking to an older woman with a big plastic bag by her side, was Parian herself.

The doll woman was in Crochet’s customary pose, hands folded above her tummy, head tilted down just-so and dress pooling around her legs. She said something to her client, then bowed at the waist when the lady said goodbye.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Big Sis and Crochet moved aside to let the lady pass, then focused back on the cape. “How may I help you?” Parian asked.

Crochet stifled the butterflies and took a deep breath before bowing the same way Parian had just done. “Hello Miss Parian. My name is Crochet. This is my Bis Sis.” She paused to give Big Sis time to wave. “I was hoping I could talk to you?”

She said mean words to herself in her head. That wasn’t supposed to be a question.

“Of course,” Parian said, and Crochet could hear the laughter in her voice.

She would just have to make do. “I was hoping that we could compare notes on dressmaking and fashion and other such things.”

“I see,” Parian said. “Are you planning on being a little dressmaker?” she asked.

Crochet wanted to deny it. She wanted to grow up to be a big dressmaker, one that made the prettiest dresses for her Big Sis, and if they actually behaved, her other sisters too. But looking at Parian she knew that she would never be tall, or big. “Something like that, yes,” she agreed. “Would you like a sample of my work?”

Parian brought a hand up to her doll mask’s mouth. “Sure, as long as I don’t have any other clients I can give you a few minutes of my time,” she said before turning to her Big Sis. “Ah, did you want a seat while we... talked shop, as it were?”

“Ah,” Big Sis began, then froze up.

Crochet grabbed her hand and gave it another squeeze. Hand squeezes were the body’s way of telling someone that you were there for them. “My Big Sis is a little shy,” she explained.

Big Sis coughed, a bit of red climbing up her neck. “That’s not it. Actually, I was here to apologise for something,” she began. “But I don’t want to ruin Crochet’s big moment. She’s a huge fan.”

Crochet didn’t huff, not in front of Miss Parian. She wasn’t a huge anything.

“Well then,” Miss Parian said. “How about you show me what you’ve made, and we can compare notes?”

Crochet nodded and flipped the top flap of her purse open. With a tiny bit of concentration, she had her power seep into the dresses within, but not the costume at the bottom. It wasn’t time to reveal that to Big Sis yet.

Her homemade dresses floated out and came to hovering stop next to each other, all displayed in a neat row for Parian to see. She was really proud of the one she had made from a shower curtain Pop had found in the basement. The 70’s neon psychedelic vibe went well with the creme sash around its hip and the black and white highlights along the fringe.

“What?” Parian said as she took a step back. She looked between Crochet, the dress, then Taylor and back again. “You’re capes?”

“No, they’re dresses,” Crochet said. She gestured towards the dress for emphasis.

Big Sis pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can explain.”