At least Damien's parents were okay with something about him. My mom and her current husband—my step-loser, John Heffer—on the other hand, hated absolutely everything about me.

"My 'rentals aren't coming. They came last month. This month they're too busy."

"Twin, once again we prove our twin-ness," Erin said. "My 'rentals sent me an e-mail. They aren't coming either 'cause of some Thanksgiving cruise they decided to take to Alaska with my Aunt Alane and Uncle Liar Lloyd. Whatever." She shrugged—apparently as unbothered as Shaunee by her parents' absence.

"Hey, Damien, maybe your mama and daddy won't show ei­ther," Stevie Rae said with a quick smile.

He sighed. "They'll be here. It's my birthday month. They'll bring presents."

"That doesn't sound so bad," I said. "You were talking about needing a new sketch pad."

"They won't get me a sketch pad," he said. "Last year I asked for an easel. They got me camping supplies and a subscription to Sports Illustrated."

"Eeesh!" said Shaunee and Erin together while Stevie Rae and I wrinkled our noses and made sympathetic noises.

Clearly wanting to change the subject, Damien turned to me. "This'll be your parents' first visit. What're you expecting?"

"Nightmare," I sighed. "Total, absolute, and complete nightmare."

"Zoey? I thought I'd bring my new roommate over to meet you. Diana, this is Zoey Redbird—the leader of the Dark Daugh­ters."

Glad to be diverted from having to talk about my own horrid parental issues, I looked up, smiling, at the sound of Sarah's ten­tative, nervous voice.