peered inside the box properly. It was full to the top with the outfits. âSo there are,â I said, smiling too broadly. âMust be fifty of them in there.â
âProbably more. You sure you want to see them all?â
I nodded, the plastic grin still stuck to my face. âYep,â I squeaked.
This was going to be a very long night.
âThatâs them all,â Marion said. Her head and shoulders were inside the costume chest, giving her voice a booming, echoing quality. âJust odds and sods left.â
âAww, thatâs a shame,â I said, fighting the urge to jump up and run around the room cheering.
âNo, wait, I tell a lie. Hereâs one.â
I bit my fist. âYay!â
âOh, now I remember this,â she said, holding up an orangey-brown jumpsuit with a furry hood. âItâs the lion.â
âItâs a lion,â I agreed, trying to appear interested.
âNo, itâs the lion. The cowardly lion, from the film.â âWhat film?â
She nudged me on the arm, almost making me topple over. âWere you even watching it?â she asked. Her eyes were narrowed, but she was fighting back a smile. â The Wizard of Oz .â
âOh, right, yes,â I stumbled. âUm⦠I liked the flying monkeys.â
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. âBoys!â
âSorry,â I said, although I wasnât quite sure why.
She waved her hand, dismissing the apology. âAt least you pretended to watch it. Thatâs good enough for me.â Her eyes went from the costume to me and back again. Finally she said, âActually, yes, you do owe me an apology. You need to make it up to me.â
I frowned. âUm⦠what?â
âPut this on,â she said, passing me the lion outfit. âSee what it looks like.â
I stared down at the tatty orange bundle in my hands. It was made out of a stretchy material, like a thick pair of womenâs tights. âYou canât be serious.â
âCome on, itâll be fun,â she urged. Marion was keeping her face straight, but her eyes twinkled mischievously, like she could burst out laughing at any minute. âBeen forty years since I saw anyone wearing that outfit. Go put it on. Just for a minute.â
My mouth flapped open and closed as I searched for excuses. âItâll be too small. It wonât fit.â
âMy friend used to wear it. He was about your size.â
âBut itâs⦠I mean, you canât⦠Itâs notâ¦â Unable to find an end to any of those sentences, I decided just to surrender to my fate. âOK,â I sighed, standing up. âBut only for a minute. And no laughing.â
Marion pretended to scratch her nose, but I could tell she was really just covering the smile that had spread across her face. âCome on,â she said, her voice cracking. âAs if I would!â
Ten minutes later I stood outside the living room, adjusting the costume. Putting it on hadnât been the nicest experience. The whole thing smelled of damp and mould, and just as Iâd expected, it was way too small. And because it was a one-piece outfit, this was causing me some problems.
For one thing, the sleeves were far too short, coming to a stop halfway along my forearms, but that wasnât the big issue. The real problem lay in the legs.
The legs were exactly like tights in that they had feet at the bottom. This was fine â they stretched to allow my own feet in â but the legs were much shorter than my own. This meant that the crotch of the outfit hung down somewhere around my knees, and Iâd had to contort my entire body to get the top part of the outfit up over my shoulders.
Now it was on, the stretched material was trying to snap back together. It pulled down on my shoulders, turning me into a sort of deformed hunchback figure. A deformed hunchback figure dressed as the lion from