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head. “She can’t. It’s too hot outside. She might get heatstroke,” I said, reaching down to pet Willow, who leaned against my legs like a cat.
    â€œWell, perhaps we can put it in the garage,” Peyton said, looking unhappy at the idea. As though Willow—beautiful Willow, who doesn’t smell the least bit doggy—would foul up the stinky old garage.
    â€œWillow’s a ‘she,’ not an ‘it.’ And my dad said she could stay in my room with me,” I said, trying very hard to keep my voice friendly. I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot, but I also wasn’t about to let the Demon send Willow out to live in the garage. Willow would hate that. She’s really very sensitive.
    Peyton’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see,” she said ominously. Peyton crossed her arms and looked me up and down, her bony face pinched with disapproval. “Are those holes in your shorts, Miranda?”
    I glanced down at myself. I was wearing my favorite old khaki shorts. I’d had them for so long, and they’d been washed so many times, that the material was comfortably soft and the seams had started to unravel in a few spots.
    Peyton’s white-blond eyebrows arched in disapproval.
    â€œYour mother lets you go out with holes in your clothing?”
    â€œUm, I guess,” I said slowly, thinking that Sadie probably hadn’t noticed. But, even if she had, I doubt she’d have minded. Sadie wouldn’t care if I decided to go out wrapped up in a sheet, toga-style; she’d probably just applaud my creativity.
    Suddenly I found myself missing Sadie fiercely, even though I’d just seen her moments before, and then I’d been so angry I hadn’t spoken to her. So she wasn’t the most dependable mother in the world…she was still my mother. The only mother I had.
    â€œI see,” Peyton said. “Well, while you’re staying with us, I’d appreciate it if you dressed more…appropriately.”
    â€œAppropriately?” I repeated.
    â€œYes. Appropriately. I know you’re used to living in a very…well, bohemian type of home, Miranda, but we have standards here,” Peyton said. Her lip curled, making it very clear just what she thought of the bohemian home from whence I came.
    My cheeks flamed hot with anger. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I had to stay here with this woman who hated me, and my father whom I didn’t even know anymore; now they were going to tell me how to dress, too? Outrage began to simmer inside of me.
    Don’t tick her off , I tried to warn myself. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth…
    â€œYou’re not my mother!”
    The words popped out before I could stop them. They echoed across the hard floors, sounding like a slap across the face.
    Uh-oh , I thought.
    Peyton stared at me, two spots of red rising on her pale face. When she spoke, her voice was frosty. “I am well aware of that fact, young lady.”
    Just then Hannah wandered in, yawning and tossing back her sleep-tousled hair, cradling Madonna in her arms. Despite her short pink pajamas emblazoned with VICTORIA’S SECRET in sequins across the chest, and a face that was still puffy with sleep, Hannah looked like a fairytale princess. She had long, platinum blond hair, sapphire blue eyes, a sweetly pretty face, and a perfect, slim body. Next to her, I always felt like a homely giantess—tall, gangly, big-nosed, and with an uncontrollable mop of brown curls.
    â€œOh,” Hannah said when she saw me. Her lips twisted into a grimace. “It’s you.”
    Peyton’s face defrosted when she saw her daughter. “Good morning,” she said in a singsong voice. “How did you sleep, honey?”
    Hannah shrugged one elegant shoulder and yawned. “Okay, I guess. Until the doorbell woke me up.” She shot me a dirty look.
    Madonna stretched and raised her petulant