She didn’t always smile, though.

In the fire, her eyes looked scary, and her mouth moved like she might be shouting—though no sound came from between her lips. She acted this way when she needed to get high again. Soon, if she got high, she’d be happy for a few more days.

Lucy wasn’t supposed to know about these things, because she was only eight and a half. Some kids just knew, whether they were supposed to or not.

Mama stepped out of the fire and came toward Lucy, her hands black and smoking. Her feet burned into the wooden floor, spreading flames with every footstep.

Lucy gasped and sat up in bed, trying to scream as her eyes flew open in the dark. The sound came from her mouth like the chirp of a cricket. She knew it was her own voice; there weren’t any crickets outside the window the week after Christmas in Hideaway, Missouri.

She hated these dreams worst of all. They made her remember the bad times, when her mother was scary-mad, when she slapped and smacked and screamed at Lucy and Brittany and called them nasty names. That was when Mama hated them.

“Sissy?”

Lucy winced at Brittany’s frightened voice. “I’m here.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’s okay, it was me.” Good thing she sounded normal again, not like the screechy cry from her dream.

There was a whisper of covers, then a thud of bare feet as Brittany dropped from her own bed and crossed to Lucy’s.

She climbed up beside Lucy without asking permission.

Lucy pulled the blankets back and helped her settle under them. Even though Brittany kicked the covers off, and sometimes even snored, Lucy didn’t mind. Much. Brittany couldn’t help it, she was only five. She wouldn’t be six until February.

Brittany squirmed close, right into Lucy’s face. Eeww! Her breath stunk.

“Did you have another bad dream again?”

“Guess so.” Lucy protected her nose with a handful of blanket.

“Was it about Mama again?”

Why did Aunt Ginger’s spaghetti make their breath smell like this?

Brittany tugged at Lucy’s arm. “Huh? Was it?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Now be quiet or everybody will wake up and nobody’ll get back to sleep and we’ll be tired all day tomorrow.”

Brittany shifted…settled…shifted…settled, then snuggled close to Lucy’s side. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day. Mama used to let us stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“But we never got up early on New Year’s Day to catch a plane to Hawaii when Mama was alive.”

Brittany sighed. “No.”

“You’ll want to be awake for the airplane ride, so go back to sleep.” They’d never flown.

“I don’t know if I can sleep now. You scared me awake.” Still, she yawned.

Lucy felt Brittany’s teddy bear Chuckles being squeezed between them, his soft fur comforting as it had always been when they were alone at home, and Mom was out somewhere in the night.

Lucy rubbed Brittany’s head with gentle strokes and waited until her breathing grew deeper. Even when she said she couldn’t sleep, she always did.

“A dream,” Lucy whispered to herself, remembering the angry face of her mother. “She’s dead. It’s okay now. She’s dead.” And then she cried, hating herself for saying that.

Willow Traynor was going to become their new mother next week. She wouldn’t do the things Mama did, because she’d never done them.

Willow didn’t look anything like Mama—Mama was pretty, but Willow was gentle, and she spent time with Lucy and Brittany like she really wanted to be with them. She never yelled, and she hugged them a lot. She didn’t take drugs, and she never slapped them. Willow made Lucy feel like she was special.