On the drive home from Silverdale, the car was divided into two discernible halves: the backseat was noisy, boisterous, and full of fighting; the front seat was frigid and silent. Kate kept trying to make conversation with her daughter, but every sentence was an unreturned volley; by the time they’d turned down the gravel driveway and parked in the garage, she felt utterly defeated. That vague triumph over holding the line, being a mother and not a friend, had lost its luster.

Behind her, the boys unhooked their seat belts and climbed over each other in their haste to get out. Kate knew that whoever got to the living room first controlled the remote.

“Take it easy,” she said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

They were tangled together like lion cubs trying to crawl out of a hole.

She turned to Marah. “You got some lovely things today.”

Marah shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You know, Marah, life is full of—” Kate stopped herself midsentence and almost laughed. She’d been about to offer one of her mother’s life-is speeches.

“What?”

“Compromises. You can go around seeing what you did get, or you can focus on what you didn’t. The choice you make will ultimately determine what kind of woman you become.”

“I just want to fit in,” Marah said in a voice that was unexpectedly small. It reminded Kate how young her daughter really was, and how frightening it was to start high school.

Kate reached out, gently tucked some hair behind Marah’s ear. “Believe me, I remember the feeling. I had to wear cheap, secondhand clothes to school when I was your age. The kids used to make fun of me.”

“So you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, but you can’t get everything you want. It’s that simple.”

“It’s a pair of jeans, Mom. Not world peace.”

Kate looked at her daughter. For once, she wasn’t scowling or turning away. “I’m sorry we fight so much.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we could sign you up for that new modeling class, after all. The one in Seattle.”

Marah jumped on that scrap like a hungry dog. “You’ll finally let me go off-island? The next session starts Tuesday. I checked. Tully said she’d pick me up from the ferry.” Marah smiled sheepishly. “We’ve been talking about it.”

“Oh, you have, have you?”

“Daddy said it would be okay if I kept my grades up.”

“He knows, too? And no one talks to me? Who am I, Hannibal Lecter?”

“You get mad pretty easily these days.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Can I go?”

Kate had no choice, really. “Okay. But if your grades—”

Marah launched herself out of her seat and into Kate’s arms. She held her daughter tightly, reveling in the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time Marah had initiated a hug.