“Alastor!” The little blond mutt trotted into her bedroom, thinking Lilith wanted to play. She drew her foot up, and the smell assaulted her.
She slid out of bed and stepped in something warm and soft. Whose idea of a cruel joke was it to assign her two textbooks with precisely the same color spine? She was going to have to wing the test and pray for a C.
She thought of the biology test awaiting her in fourth period, followed immediately by the sucky fact that last night she’d brought home her American history book by mistake. Her bedside clock flashed midnight, but her thin white curtains glowed gray with dawn. It was wildfire season-it was always wildfire season-and her lungs were thick with smoke and ash from the red blaze in the hills.
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