Moira had moaned, allowing herself to be held by her dad, even though she was fifteen-too old to be cuddled or called Daisy, the pet name her father had always used.

"Think of it as character building," her mum had suggested, and her dad had laughed again. Her dad and mum had met eyes and smiled at each other, and Moira had known it was a lost cause. She'd called Tess and complained about the permanent dye being the "worst thing" to happen to her.

That had been seven months ago. One month later her dad had been killed in a car wreck in London, where he'd gone on business. Now she wished more than anything that the green streaks could really have been her worst problem-and that Colm Byrne was still waiting at home to back up her mum in a lecture about the latest trouble Moira had gotten into.

"Moira?" Tess asked, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, no thanks. I'm fine." Moira forced a thin smile.

"All right, then?" Vita asked once Tess had left. Her round face looked concerned.

"Oh, you know," Moira said vaguely. Vita nodded sympathetically and patted Moira's hand in an old-fashioned gesture Moira found touching.

"I know. I'm here, whenever you want to talk."

Moira nodded. "I'd rather be distracted, really," she said.

"Well, good," Vita said. "Because I was wondering if you could help me study for herbology. I got all the nightshades mixed up on the last test, and Christa was very disappointed." Vita lowered her voice to sound like Christa Ryan, one of their initiation-class teachers.

"Sure," Moira said. "Come over tonight or tomorrow and we'll go over everything. I'll share all the Moira Byrne wisdom with you."