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contented silence while her mother cooked, happy to be in the warm kitchen with her mom. As her mother set down a plated sandwich and a mug of soup, her stepfather called them into the living room. Agatha carried her meal there, and gasped when she saw that the tree was now surrounded by presents, all wrapped in shining red and green paper. There was even a fire crackling beneath the mantle. It was a picture-perfect Christmas scene, just as she’d imagined in the attic.
    She sat down on the couch and took a large bite of the sandwich. Cheese stretched between the bread and her mouth, and she sighed happily. As long as her mom was home, she felt safe from the twins and their twisted games.
    “Where are Summer and Rain?” she asked, dunking her sandwich into the steaming soup.
    Her mother and stepfather exchanged glances again.
    “Sweetheart, what do you mean? It’s Christmas Eve,” her mother said in a gentle voice.
    “Yeah, I know. So shouldn’t they be here?”
    Her stepfather pursed his lips. He stepped back into the kitchen and gestured for his wife to follow. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
    Agatha’s stomach was beginning to feel warm and full, and she smiled at the thought that the twins might be about to get into trouble. Not only had they locked her in the attic, but they’d left her home alone while they went out into the neighborhood to do who-knows-what. It was so rare for them to be caught doing something wrong. It would be satisfying to witness.
    “… delirious.” Her stepfather’s voice carried in from the kitchen.
    “Maybe it’s just mild heat stroke,” her mother said. “It was very warm up there.”
    In the flickering light of the fire, something glinted in the corner. There were two shiny somethings poking out from beneath the tree skirt. Agatha thought they might be ornaments that had fallen off a branch or two and got up from the couch to retrieve them. When Agatha reached the tree, she saw that the firelight was reflecting off a pair of tiny porcelain dolls. Each one was barely the size of her hand, and they looked like they were created in the same style as the Santa Claus she’d found in the attic, but on a much smaller scale.
    They might be his elves , she thought.
    They didn’t look like elves, though. Normally, Santa’s helpers were clad in red and green, but these two dolls were wearing matching blue dresses. Agatha frowned. Something about them was familiar. The blue dresses and long blonde pigtails…
    Envy stabbed Agatha’s stomach. She knew who these dolls reminded her of: her stepsisters. They were miniature hand-painted versions of Summer and Rain. They must have been made for them as Christmas gifts, and Agatha had been left out. She didn’t see a doll in her own likeness anywhere under the tree.
    Agatha gripped the dolls in one hand and walked over to the fireplace. She had half a mind to toss them in so that Summer and Rain would each be short a present. That would teach them to lock her up somewhere on Christmas Eve. As she stood before the flames, trying to decide if she’d get into trouble for lighting something on fire, the family portrait above the mantle caught her eye.
    It was different than before.
    There were only three people in it.
    “It’s the middle of winter, it’s snowing outside, and she’s asking why it isn’t summer? Why it’s not raining?” Her stepfather almost sounded angry. “That’s not normal, Patricia!”
    “She just ate, Frank. Let’s give her time to settle back down. She doesn’t have a concussion. She might be a little dehydrated, that’s all. If she’s still talking nonsense in an hour, we’ll take her to the hospital.”
    Agatha stared up at the portrait. In the picture, she sat alone on the bench. Her mother and stepfather stood behind her, resting their hands on her shoulders. All three of them were smiling.
    She dashed back over to the tree. This couldn’t be right. It had to be a joke. She pawed at the Christmas