Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Catgirl’s New Clothes

Lydia clung to her mother’s arm nervously as she walked along the path outside the small strip mall in their town. Not being quite big enough for any stores of decent size, the mall instead functioned mostly as a walkway between a movie theater, a small clothing store, and the general store. The sun was high in the sky, but the clouds this time of year had mostly obscured it.

Lydia noticed that her mother was shifting her gaze elsewhere, her eyes darting from place to place. She realized that her mother must’ve been just as anxious about someone they knew approaching as she herself was. They walked into the store, and her mother made a gentle wave to the clerk, who waved back, before staring a little at the top of Lydia’s head. Lydia recognized the woman, which meant her mother probably did as well. As a result, she whisked them back to the aisles in the back of the store.

Her mother started picking out clothes for her, giving her cold, calculating glances as she surveyed her daughter’s new size, holding up the clothes gently to her body to determine their exact dimensions. Lydia was sure that there were places you could order jeans with a tail hole, but she knew her mother was probably not ready for that discussion yet. As a result, her mother gave her skirts and dresses, mostly. Her mother eventually took her aside and got her exact measurements for her underwear, then came back with a few items.

Eventually, they amassed a pile, and her mother sent her to the changing rooms to try them on, lecturing her sternly on how to tell what fit. Lydia forgot most of it by the time she was in the changing rooms, mostly dazed with excitement that she got to try clothes on. She pulled a dress over the top of her head and spun around in it, giggling as she saw herself in the mirror again. It was soothing to feel like this for once, and she couldn’t wait to try on the rest!

She sorted the clothes into two piles, and after all the clothes were organized, she put on her favorite dress again, looking at the fit and smiling. After what felt like no time at all to her, her mother rapped on the door, asking, “are you done in there?” She shimmied the clothes she came in with back on quickly and stepped out, beaming at her mother, before dutifully hanging up the clothes on the rack to the side that didn’t fit.

As she glanced at her mother, she noticed the beginnings of a smile at the corner of her mother’s face, but as soon as she looked in her eyes, the smile was again suppressed, replaced by the sullen look she’d worn coming in. Her mother loaded the clothes into a cart and took her to the very back of the store, where the coats and jackets were.

“Since you’re not going to be like this for long,” her mother said, “I’d like to keep it to just one coat, please.”

Lydia nodded absentmindedly, already focused on the rack. She saw so many options, of a rainbow of colors, it felt impossible to choose, before she laid her eyes on one she loved: a puffy black coat with a big hood! Perfect for her ears! She picked it out and pulled the coat her mother had loaned her earlier off, and tried the new one on. She spun around in it, giggling and purring all at once. Her mother put her hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see her mother’s glaring ‘don’t embarrass me’ look.

She stopped immediately and looked down at the floor, taking her coat off and handing it to her mother as she looked away and rubbed her arm, her tail swishing. Her mother made no effort to comfort her, seeming merely satisfied that her daughter wasn’t raising eyebrows elsewhere in the store. They walked briskly to the front, both eager to leave.

As the clerk rang up the items, she began to make small talk with Lydia’s mom, and eventually, the dreaded topic of the catgirl’s identity came up.

“So, Di,” the clerk said, “I haven’t seen this little cutie around town before!”

“Oh,” her mother stammered, “h-she’s my niece, on my husband’s side.”

“Really?” the clerk asked, “what’s your name, young lady?”

Lydia didn’t appreciate being talked to like a child, but she was rolling in euphoria, so she cheerfully said, “Lydia!”

“Delightful to meet you!” the clerk said, smiling, turning back to Diane, “Is she staying with you all for a while?”

“We’ll see, it depends on how long she needs to stay,” Diane replied hesitantly.

“Oh, well, that’s very kind of you all to help out family like that, especially if they’re the liberal type that lets their children have those animal ears,” the clerk said as she finished the transaction. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she came from your side of the family! She has your hair and all.”

“We get that a lot, yes,” her mother said tersely, fumbling with her debit card before making a polite but muted wave to the clerk as she whisked Lydia out the door.

Outside, the sun was now brilliantly shining, illuminating the March skies and melting the snow piles such that small puddles gathered around them. Lydia skipped over them gleefully, her mother glaring at her as they got into the car.

“Must you act like a child and a girl, dear?” Diane asked exhaustedly as she started the engine and reversed out of the parking spot.

“I just like skipping, mom,” Lydia said quietly, “I’ll stop if it annoys you, sorry.”

“It’s not just that, dear,” Diane replied, “you’ve seriously got to get a grip on how much you giggle, it might attract attention.”

“Lots of girls my age giggle!” Lydia protested.

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“And those girls don’t purr like a cat,” her mother sneered.

Lydia looked down at her feet and tapped them together anxiously. The rest of the ride home was silent, Lydia trying to compose herself into not crying. She couldn’t know how her mother would react to that, and she really didn’t want to find out. Diane’s mood, for her part, did not lighten at all for the rest of the trip, seemingly becoming angrier and angrier.

As they got out of the car, Lydia popped open the trunk and carried as many of the bags in as she could, however hard it was to lift them. She didn’t want her mother yelling at her for not helping her with the bags. She only ended up being able to carry about half of them, setting them down as she entered the house, and turning to go outside again.

“John,” her mother yelled from outside just before she turned around, “do you think it’s acceptable to not help your mother carry things in?”

“I…but mom, I was coming back to get them,” she replied.

“Then why do I still see bags here?” Diane asked, staring sternly at her with her hands planted squarely on her hips.

“I…” Lydia began, trying desperately not to cry as tears began to pour down her face anyways, “I couldn’t carry them all. I was coming back to get them.”

Her mother stared at her, then looked off into the distance, staring blankly and rubbing her head.

“Okay,” her mother replied, “go and get these bags in the house.”

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered as she carried the rest of them in, and one by one carried the bags to her room.

By the time she was done, her mother still hadn’t come in from outside. She was starting to get worried, but with how her mom was acting, she dared not come outside. Instead, she looked around for her father. She found, strangely, that he wasn’t anywhere he’d normally be. She checked his room, all the common areas, and finally realized he must’ve been in the computer room.

She opened the door, and he quickly closed out of one of the tabs as soon as he heard her. She didn’t get a good look at what he was looking at, and figured it’d be best not to ask.

“Have you seen mom?” Lydia asked.

“You were the one who went shopping with her,” her father replied, “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

“She hasn’t been in since I brought the bags in,” Lydia replied, casting her gaze downwards as she explained, “I think she’s mad at me.”

Her father sighed and pulled his hand downwards across his face dramatically. “Let me call her.”

Her father shooed her out of the room, as she waited a ways outside of the door, trying not to be seen or heard listening in, but nevertheless curious to hear. All she could make out was yelling and her father’s signature exasperated phrase, ‘right.’ After a few minutes, he opened the door and walked up to Lydia, putting his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, fumbling at a little as he realized just how short she was now.

“Your mother is taking a drive for a bit to calm down,” he explained, “she’s worried about her ability to be a gracious person right now.”

“Will she be back for dinner?” Lydia asked.

“I don’t know,” her father replied.

Lydia timidly looked up at him, and asked, “Could I make dinner for you both, then, like you asked?”