Liza said, “What time are the fireworks?”

Violet reapplied her lipstick and then rubbed her lips together to even out the color. She recapped the tube. “Whenever it gets dark. I’m guessing nine,” she said. She leaned forward, blotted her lipstick with a tissue, and then used an index finger to clean a line of color from her teeth.

“Are you and Foley coming home right afterward?”

“Nah, we’ll probably stop by the Moon.”

Liza wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to ask. It was always like that. They’d get home at 2:00 A.M. Liza, dazed and groggy, would collect her four dollars and then walk home through the dark.

Violet took the bulk of her hair, twisted it, and held it high on her head, showing the effect. “What do you think? Up or down? It’s still hotter than blue blazes.”

“Down’s better.”

Violet smiled. “Vanity over comfort. Glad I taught you something.” She dropped her hair, shaking it out so the weight of it went swinging across her back.

That was the sequence Liza remembered-beginning, middle, and end. It was like a short loop of film that ran over and over. Daisy reading her comic book, Violet naked, and then being zipped into the polka-dot sundress. Violet lifting her bright red hair and then shaking it out. The thought of Ty Eddings was wedged in there somewhere because of what happened later. The only other brief moment that stayed with her was a time jump of maybe twenty minutes. Liza was in the cramped, not-quite-clean bathroom with its moldy-smelling towels. Daisy, her fine blond hair caught up in a barrette, was taking her bath. She was sitting in a cloud of bubbles, scooping them up and draping them across her shoulders like a fine fur coat. Once Liza had Daisy bathed and in her baby doll pajamas, she’d give her the pill Violet left for her whenever she went out.