Quinn Gregory decided there and then that the world was trying altogether too hard to be cute. That song – ''Ain't No Sunshine'' by Bill Withers – blared from the little black alarm clock on the girl's nightstand, jarring her from dreams of flying on the back of a pterodactyl and into the depressingly ''normal'' world. She felt like she'd be good as a spear-wielding flying dinosaur rider – better than she was as a socially awkward high school sophomore, anyway.

One hand slipped out from beneath her quilt to bang the snooze button in the hopes that it'd buy her nine more minutes of wind in her dream hair. Whoever decided snoozes could only be nine minutes long would be the first against the wall when she became queen; that kind of evil should not be allowed to exist. The soft thump at the foot of her bed, accompanied by a strangled, ''oh, good, you're awake'' meow were signs she wouldn't even get that long. Sure enough, a tiny kitten's paw bapped Gregory on the nose, forcing open one sea-green eye.

''Rrow.'' The kitten announced himself proudly, stepping onto the pile of blankets swaddling the sixteen-year-old to begin kneading.

''Heya, Herm,'' she mumbled, excavating her hand from her little cocoon to half-heartedly pet the little orange tabby.

His name was Hermes (or Herman, depending who you asked), and Quinn considered him pretty much the greatest cat in the world – at least when she was trying to steal a few extra seconds of sleep prior to an 8AM geometry quiz. It wasn't long before Hermes decided rubbing his head against an unmoving object was unsatisfying, instead climbing onto the thin girl's shoulders. Tiny little paws tugged at the covers at the nape of her neck.

Right about then, the alarm went off again, this time with an ad for a car dealership, beseeching listeners to spend their tax refund on a new car. Quinn wondered how many returns her mother filed every year, an idle question she filed away as she rolled onto her side, tossing off layer after layer of bed sheet, blanket, and quilt. Hermes hopped off the girl's back and onto his favorite towel, mewling pitiably.

Quinn fumbled on the nightstand in search of her signature black cat's-eye glasses. In her stupor, she nearly poked herself in the eye with the temple. The girl groaned, stretching both hands overhead. Hermes lifted his head, squinting up at the girl unhappily.

''Yeah, I'm not real happy about it either,'' Quinn sighed, sitting up. She rubbed the back of her neck as she glanced over her shoulder to the door. ''Think she's home?''

Hermes did not share his opinion on the matter, and the teen pulled herself groggily to her feet, pushing both hands through her tarry black hair as she staggered to the closet. The teen's room wasn't nearly as big as the master, designed for guests, but she'd made it her own – with a décor that struck the right balance between her nerdy teenaged exterior and the hipster forty-year-old that lived inside her. There was a Cylon propaganda poster on the wall, an oddly-shaped lava lamp on her desk, and Che Guevara as her iMac desktop.

She picked out her clothes (charcoal jeans and a black t-shirt with a sketch of the Vitruvian Man on it – the school disapproved of her collection from T-Shirt Hell), slipping behind the desk. Safari opened with a quick double-click as the girl went through her morning routine. Spam cleared, email replied to, posted on her Facebook fan page (''Two more fans to 900, c'mon, people!''), skimmed Twitter, checked some forums – it was a daily routine, one the girl performed by rote.

''Quinn!'' a voice called from outside. ''Time to go, sweetie!''

''Mrow!'' Hermes cried, unfurling from his tiny ball to dart through her door in the search for food.

'''Sweetie'?'' Pitch-dark eyebrows hooked as the girl slid on her jeans. A quick Command-Q shut the browser down, and Quinn shambled into the front room. ''Coffee,'' she mumbled, moving for the pot. ''Mom? Where are you?''

''Out in a sec. I made your lunch – bag's in the fridge.''

''You made me lunch? And there's not some listening device or something in there?'' Temporarily abandoning her need for caffeine, Quinn opened the fridge hesitantly, as if she were positive something would leap out. Sure enough, there was a brown paper bag on the top shelf.

Her mother's footsteps up the hallway were slow, with a click-clack that spoke of higher heels than she usually spoke. Quinn closed the door, and turned to face... well, it was still Alexandra Pierce, but you wouldn't know on first glance. Alongside the two or three inch heels, her mom was wearing a gray, hound's-tooth miniskirt, hemmed just above the knee. Her blouse was a little bit more undone than normal, showing a little bit of a lacy black bra, and her snug blazer matched the skirt. When buttoned, she was sure it would create a shelf for her mom's cleavage. Pierce's eyes were icy blue, and she was working with dirty blond locks, twirling them up into a bun.

Quinn was momentarily struck speechless, and the woman (she had a hard time thinking of Pierce's other personas as ''mom'') curled her lips into a frown. ''You hate it,'' she murmured.

''No!'' Gregory said quickly. It's not that. It's just... I'm not used to seeing you play sexy. What's the occasion?''

''We have a new client,'' Alex said. ''Gah, I can't make this hair work.''

''Relax, Mom,'' Quinn said. ''Here, sit down. What's the case?''

Pierce click-clacked into one of the stools surrounding the island. ''It's local for a change,'' she said, her daughter stepping behind her. ''Lawyer fired his secretary, no severance package, no health benefits, nothing. They didn't even let her clean out desk – just threw her off the premises.''

''Did she, like, do something wrong?'' the girl asked. ''Maybe, ooh, maybe she had sex in the copy room!''

''Quinn!'' Alex half-turned in the stool, meeting Gregory's grin with an exasperated furrow to her brow. ''Can we... not talk like that ever?''

The girl's tongue slipped through the grin. ''I can't do this if you keep moving around. So either you sit still or... or... what are you calling this one?''

''Lynn.''

''Really?''

''What?'' Pierce folded her hands in her lap. ''It's a perfectly fine name.''

''It's boring. And the bun and glasses thing is kinda played out.''

One eyebrow, dyed blond, arched. ''How did you know I was going to do the glasses?''

''Please. Naughty librarian is one of your specialties. Here let met try something.'' Quinn went to work on the wig. All of her mother's wigs were human hair wigs, handcrafted specifically for her – she didn't buy them on the Internet or at a shop, but unlike Lauren Fox, she didn't make them herself, either. ''What's your plan?''

''She says she was fired for learning something.'' Pierce was a model subject, perfectly still under her daughter's ministrations. She turned her head when she was prompted, and didn't squirm even when the wig pulled against her head. ''She's not sure what, however.''

''How do you not know what you learned to get you fired?''

''I don't know.'' Pierce's lips turned downward. ''I do know that Finch and Associates have a job listing in the newspaper, and I was hoping that Lynn would pass the job interview, so I could poke around.

''Denise,'' Quinn corrected. She'd curled the wig into two tiny braids, joining together into a larger one. ''Change the shoes into something a little more functional, maybe? Less of a heel. Pantyhose instead of stockings, too. Think recent divorcee, kid to take care of, husband up and left her. Not that that's familiar territory to trod.''

''Denise.'' Pierce mulled it over, tapping one finger to her lips. ''I could see that. Less overt, more clumsy. I like it.''

''But not a cliché. Don't do the trip.''

''I like the trip.'' Alex slipped off the stool, heading back for her room. ''And I'm good at the trip.''

''You are!'' Quinn grinned over her shoulder, finally pouring that cup of coffee she'd wanted. ''No one denies this! I'm just saying that it's not the only trick in your bag. Something like this is not all inappropriate touching. By the way, is that... is that peaches I smell?''

''Maybe? I don't really know.'' Pierce's voice was clear, even drifted through the half-shut door. ''Where's Brandon? He's usually here by now.''

''Don't deflect.'' Gregory passed swiftly to the hallway, cup and saucer in hand. ''Amy uses peach-scented shampoo.''

Her mother's silence was damning. ''Does she?'' Alex asked finally, lamely. ''I guess I forgot, maybe?''

''Don't lie to me, Mom.'' The younger Pierce's scowl was eerily reminiscent of the elder's. ''I know that's kind of what you do, but... but not to me, okay?''

''Sorry.'' The Spider emerged from her room, stockings traded for hose and her favorite pair of kitten heeled pumps dangling from her fingertips. The change of clothes and Quinn's styling of her hair softened her appearance, though the skirt was a little too short for the look. ''I just... I don't want you to think I'm creepy.''

''Let's be honest – 'creepy' is part of your charm.'' Gregory's grin was a small, tremulous thing. ''And it's not creepy – not really.''

''I saw the bottle in the shower,'' Alex whispered miserably. ''And I thought... you know, maybe if I used it and I turned my head, I could catch the smell on the wind.'' Tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. ''I just... miss her. So much.''

''I know you do. I do, too.'' Mother and daughter touched foreheads. ''You'll make it through this,'' Quinn promised. ''I know you will.''

A car door slammed outside, loud enough it shook the wall, and a pair of sharp knocks at the door quickly followed. Pierce splayed her fingers, dabbing at the tears without ruining her freshly painted pink nails. ''Sorry,'' she said again. ''That's... that's him. You should go.''

''Are you okay?'' Quinn withdrew reluctantly.

''I'll be fine. I just... I really need to lose myself in my work for a while.''

''You mean you have to lose yourself in being another person.'' Worry creased the girl's smile.

''Maybe.'' Alex was on the verge of tears again. ''It hurts so much to be me.''

''Here.'' Quinn brushed a tiny tear away. ''I got you something for Valentine's.''

''What about Brandon?''

That stretched the teen's smile. ''I got something for him, too, silly.''

''I meant he's outside.''

Her sea-green eyes slid to the door. ''Oh. Yeah.'' A sudden grin twisted her lips – a smile that Alex had already seen before in the mirror. ''Hey, you want to give Denise a test drive?''

''What? Quinn, you have to go to school. Your teachers have already been all over me about taking you with me on the road.''

''It's fine, mom.'' The girl's grin wouldn't stop. ''Go out in the kitchen.''

''I'm not going to flirt with your boyfriend.''

''He'd better not fall for it, or he won't be anymore.'' The girl turned her mother physically towards the front room, propelling her with a gentle shove. ''Go. Remember: subtle.''

''You're telling me to be subtle?'' Alex staggered forward, slipping on her pumps as she walked. ''I'm really not sure this is—''

''Q!'' The shout came from the door, accompanied by a renewed pounding. ''Quinn! Are you even home?''

''Coming!'' The teen had to wipe the grin off her face as she pulled open the door. ''Sorry,'' she said. ''I got kinda caught up with Mom. I'm almost ready, promise.'' She rocked up to her toes, bussing a kiss to the boy's cheek. ''Just need to grab something from my room for Miss Palumbo. I'll be right back.''

''Wait, Miss Palumbo?'' Brandon's brows lifted.

''Oh, she was my English teacher back in Dallas.'' Quinn was already retreating down the hall back towards her room. ''She's in the kitchen. You'll like her, I swear.''

''Okay.'' Brandon smiled weakly. ''Just don't take too long. We don't want to miss that quiz.''

''You're the one that was late, Bran.'' She quirked her grin as she pushed into the room. ''Like, two minutes, tops.''

The door didn't quite shut behind her, but Brandon was a shy kid and wasn't about to snoop. He was shaking his head as he crossed into the kitchen, but he came up short at... well, at a finely shaped derriere, bent at the waist to fill a tiny black food dish with dried food. Hermes swept through the woman's legs, standing at the dish to carefully monitor the situation. ''Mrow,'' he said once he was satisfied – the same way someone might say, ''When'' once a waiter sprinkled enough Parmesan cheese onto a salad.

''I... uhh...'' Brandon stammered. ''I think I'm going to just... yeah. I'll be over by the TV.''

The woman gasped in surprise, straightening. One hand smoothed her skirt as she turned, pink-painted lips spreading into a small grin. ''Well, aren't you just the most precious little thing,'' she said, mincing her steps as she stepped closer. ''Quinny's been going on about you. And I can see why!''

Brandon's ears burned as she slid behind him. ''Are you on one of the sports teams?'' she asked.

''I... I was thinking of trying out for the swim team.''

A long-nailed hand reached past him to the countertop, snagging a glass from the granite countertop, taking a sip. ''Mmm. I could see that. Did they give you one of those swim caps with your name on them?''

''I... I mean they would if I make the team?''

She was so close, resting the heavy bottom of the glass against his shoulder blade, the other casually at his waist. Brandon stepped up. ''How did you say you knew Quinn?'' he asked.

''I was her fifth grade teacher in Texas. Became pretty close with her parents – well, her adoptive father, I guess. There's a lot of potential in that girl.''

''Potential for... for what?'' He tried to keep the focus on his girlfriend and away from... other places. ''Quinn's... I love her, but she'd tell you herself she's not a good student.''

One brow crooked. ''She just needs to be challenged. Part of the reason her mother brought me up here after the school let me go. I know how to... how to motivate her.'' Again, she followed right on his tail. ''If you'd like I could... help... you, too.''

He turned, grabbing the woman gently by the upper arms and guiding her a full stride away. ''If you can help Quinn, that would be great, but I just want to be clear... I'm with her, you know? I'm not...''

Ms. Palumbo spun easily out of his grasp, but her legs got tangled up with each other and she stumbled into him. Instinct propelled the teen to catch her. ''Whoop!'' he said, pivoting to set her onto one of the stools. ''Careful there.''

''Wow, I think... I think I might have had too much already.'' She still poured the booze down her throat, hand resting on the boy's bicep. ''Thanks for catching me. That could've been... ugly.''

''It's no problem.'' He retracted his arm as quickly as he could without yanking it away. ''You sure you're going to be okay?''

''You're sweet for even carin', honey.'' Her gaze slipped from the boy to the hall. ''He's an angel.''

Brandon turned over his shoulder, finding Quinn leaning against the wall, a small smile on her face. ''It's not... not what it looks like! I didn't... I wouldn't...''

''I know.'' Quinn was nearly skipping as she stepped around to the woman. ''He did okay?''

''He did fine.'' Ms. Palumbo's voice was smoother, a little more confident, without the barely-hidden accent. ''I could maybe have had him if I had more time, but...''

''You had to do the trip, didn't you?'' Quinn's grin quirked as she pressed a small, black velvet box into the other woman's hand. She flashed that smile over her shoulder. ''It's cool if you fell for the trip.''

''I am so confused right now,'' Brandon said. He pointed at the blond woman. ''You sound different now, and...'' And then gestured to his girlfriend. ''You look way happier than you should. And what's the trip?''

''The trip is... magic.'' Quinn leaned back against the island, resting on her elbows, shifting her gaze to her disguised mother. ''Anyway, I got you that before... before all that happened, and, I mean, I got one for her, too, but... yeah, no idea when I'll ever see her again.''

The hidden Spider lowered her gaze to the box, levering it open. It was a silver locket, filigreed to have ivy wrapped around it. Alex's thumb opened charm with a flick, her lips opening softly, smiling at the black-and-white photograph of Amy Campbell on a plastic chair, her head down, smile sort of bashful, one hand raised to partially obstruct the camera's view.

''It's beautiful,'' Pierce whispered, a crooked finger lifting to brush aside a tear.

''I know you always wear the mermaid's tear, but the chain is a different length, so it shouldn't bang into the glass.''

''I love it, thank you.'' She glanced past the two teens, squinting at the green numbers on the microwave. ''I should go. Don't want to be late.''

Between them, Brandon looked left out – which, in fairness, he was. ''Someone want to tell me what is going on? Where's she going? What is going on here?'' His brow furrowed in thought. ''She's not your fifth grade teacher, is she?''

Pierce slid to her feet, a small smile on her lips. Even though Quinn had seen it a hundred times, when her mother touched toe to heel and stumbled into Brandon again, she didn't even see it. Alex's fake ice-blue gaze met the boy's surprised one.

''And that,'' Quinn beamed. ''Is the trip.''

The Spider extricated herself from the boy's grip, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. ''Remember, it's Lost night.''

''I'll be here. Have fun, Mom.''

Alex turned at the door, a small half-grin staining her lips. ''I'll try. And Quinn? Thanks again.'' With that, she shut the door behind her, headed out to the covered parking for her convertible.

''That was your mom?'' Brandon gaped.

''Yeah. She's doing something for her job today, wanted a guinea pig for the voice and the moves and stuff.''

''You... knew that your mother would be... Jesus, Quinn.''

''What?''

''What do you mean, 'what'? You set me up, had your mom flirt with me, to... to what, test me?''

Gregory's thin brows climbed. ''It wasn't like that. She needed—''

''If it was just about the voice or mannerisms, she could've gone to the Chevron on the corner or to the Mini-Mart. But instead, you had to make fun of the boyfriend.''

''It's... it's not...''

Brandon was angrier than Quinn had ever seen him, arms wide, brows up, cheeks red. ''It's not what? Not like that? I hardly ever see you – when I do, I have to... I have to wonder whether Amy's going to punch me instead of shaking my hand, and your mom – when she's not dressed like a floozy – is the scariest person I've ever met.''

''Brandon, please. It was just a—''

''Maybe to you. Look my parents are going through some real hard times now, you know that. I live a busy life, but I'd drop everything for you. Can you honestly say that you'd do the same?''

Tears sprung to the girl's sea-green eyes. ''I would. It's just... she's had it really hard.''

''She's had it hard? She's had it hard? My parents' landlord is a fucking psycho who installed a camera to spy on my mom in the shower, and I'm supposed to care because your mom's girlfriend broke up with her?''

Quinn reached out, resting the long fingers of one hand on his forearm. ''How come you never told me any of that?''

''Maybe I would've if you were here more often instead of off for your mom's latest show. Are you going to Seattle, too?''

''I...''

''I figured you were. I've always wanted to go to Seattle. But I'm stuck here, because I can't afford to fly off whenever I want to. I don't have a company that pays for it. So I'm here until you deign to spend any time with me.''

''You could come...'' Quinn's brows lifted. ''I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind...''

Jacobs' sigh was sharp, exasperated. ''You think this is about me wanting to get to go on fancy trips with you?''

''Then what is it about? Tell me so that I can fix it. Because just yelling at me isn't going to do anything.''

''The fact that you have to even ask that is the problem.'' The boy turned away, in part to hide the fact that Quinn was crying – he wasn't about to lose it now. ''You're the most guarded person in the world, and you only talk to me when there's nothing else to do. If there's a show on TV or a book you'd rather read or a video game you want to play, I wouldn't even be on your radar.''

''That's not true!''

''And if something is up with your mom? Well, then, you know... everything else goes away. You left me at your mom's office on your birthday, because—''

Gregory's tiny fists balled at her sides. ''Because I was sick.''

''Are you going to lie to me? Now?''

''It's... it's complicated, Brandon.''

His voice raised, the shout enough to send Hermes sprinting away. ''Then un-complicate it for me! It's always secrets with you. Secrets and things that are 'too complex' for me to understand.'' His sigh was nearly a growl. ''Let's just go.''

''Brandon, please... I can... I can explain.''

''Three months ago, I might have cared.'' He shuffled to the door, not looking back. ''Come on, we have a quiz this morning.''

The ride to school was oppressively quiet; tense enough that Quinn could barely breathe. Three separate times, she tried to talk to him – first about the fight, then about the quiz, and finally about the Warriors – but he didn't say anything. Is this what her future was like? Alienating the few normal people in her life?

Tears distracted her, her shame nearly crushed her, and it was all Gregory could do to make it through the geometry quiz – she was sure she tanked it. The moment the bell rang, the so-called Devil's Daughter ducked her head, darting as fast as she could without making a scene for the ladies room. She spent most of second period feeling sorry for herself.

The school's girls' room was in remarkably good condition – well-maintained, often cleaned, the graffiti that might be found elsewhere scrubbed meticulously clean. Quinn sat sullenly in a stall, her elbows on her knees and her head down. ''I'm sorry,'' she whispered. ''Why didn't I just say—''

She straightened, swallowing as she heard a pack of her classmates pile through the door. They were talking about something, but Gregory couldn't be bothered to keep up (Lady GaGa's outfit, maybe?). She drew her feet up against the door – it wasn't that she thought they'd look, but she just didn't want to be bothered.

''You would not believe who ran out of my geometry class this morning,'' one of them said. ''Quinn Gregory. Apparently, they don't learn about isosceles triangles when they're teaching her how to fake karate kick people in the face.''

''I heard she and Brandon Jacobs had a fight this morning and they might have broken up,'' one of the others said.

''I heard she dated one of the wrestlers, some guy named Dusk or Dawn or something, and that's why he got fired.''

''Eww. Who is he, Beyoncé? A wrestler? How could anyone even think of dating a wrestler?''

''My brother says they're all gay, anyway.''

The bell rang, and the gossips clamored out as quickly as they came in, leaving the girl alone in the stall. Quinn slipped out, washing her face with a long sigh. Idle hands pulled her Palm Pre free of her purse, and she stared at it for a good thirty seconds. She couldn't call her mom – she was on a case, and she had a history of reacting poorly to these types of things. Either she'd want some kind of revenge on her daughter's behalf, or she'd feel bad about being the cause of it, and—Quinn wouldn't add to the weight on her mother's shoulders, not after the thing with Amy.

Which left only one person, really. Except she and Amy hadn't spoken since the little redhead moved out – no one had seen her at all since the show in Edmonton. Campbell deserved some peace, but...

She was dialing before she thought about it, before she could convince herself it was a bad idea, that she'd be a burden.

''Nng... Quinn?'' Campbell groaned groggily on the other end.

''Did I...'' The girl sighed. ''Oh, crap. I woke you. I'm sorry...'' She shook her head, pulling open the girl's room door. ''I'll just call you back later.''

''Don't worry about it. Is something wrong?''

''It's... it's nothing,'' she sighed. ''I just didn't know who else to call. Mom's...'' She cut herself off, shaking her head. ''Just been a really bad morning is all. I miss you.''

''Nothing means something,'' Amy yawned. ''Spill.''

''Really, I don't want to trouble you after...'' She paused, veering the sentence away from the sore subject. ''I don't want to bother you on vacation or anything. Just some silly fight with Brandon. Really, you should go back to sleep.''

She continued down the hallway, peering towards the offices. The halls were empty, and without a pass, she risked detention, especially if she was on her cellphone. But third period was Spanish, and Brandon was in that class with her and she couldn't think of facing him, not after running out after geometry.

Quinn could hear a more frantic rustling together of sheets in the earpiece. ''Do I need to kill that little fucker?''

''No!'' Quinn said quickly. ''No, it was my fault.'' She put her back against the faded yellow lockers, taking a deep breath before she slipped down the hall. ''I... may have gotten carried away helping Mom get ready for a case this morning. It was silly, and I put him in a bad position, and... yeah.'' Gregory ducked past Mr. Davis' classroom window. ''I never told him I was sorry. I just... I'm feeling really dumb.''

''What did you do?''

''I... there's this woman. She got fired for no reason, says she'd found something out that she shouldn't have.'' A quiet murmur from Amy prompted her to continue. ''And so Mom's trying to get hired, see if she can dig up whatever it is. And so she was trying on clothes and, I mean...'' Just ten yards to the front door – the closest way out. ''I told her she should try... try it out before she left. I convinced her... Gosh, this sounds even dumber when I say it out loud.''

''God, Quinn - I really don't want to hear 'I sent my mom to hit on my boyfriend this morning'...''

''It wasn't like that.'' The girl's thin lips curled downward as she pulled her hood up to hide her telltale pitch-dark hair before turning to walk briskly through the doors. ''I mean, I guess it could look like that, but she's been so sad since... uh, well, she's been sad. And it was a new alias, and she was nervous. She'd ridiculously overdone it when I first saw her, so... yeah, you probably don't want to hear about all that.''

''So you got her to try tricking him into thinking she was someone else to test the... Jesus. It's exhausting just to think about. How upset was he?''

The dark-haired teen jammed a hand into her pocket, meandering down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk. The fact that she was casually cutting class didn't even really occur to her. ''On a scale of one to ten?'' She moved her phone from one ear to the other. ''I dunno, an eight, maybe? I mean, he still gave me a ride in, but... he didn't say anything in the car the whole time. It was like I could... like I could feel him stewing. I didn't know what to say. Still kind of don't.''

''You tell him you're sorry. That's what you say,'' Amy answered sharply. ''I know what it's like to be an outsider to that kind of thing. It's overwhelming, it makes you angry... it confuses, it's ridiculous. It still makes me angry. You can apologize, and you can never bring him into it again. That's all.''

''I wish it was that easy, though. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I am sorry. I am.'' She sniffled. ''I didn't think about him, and I should've, but I was worried about Mom, and... I don't know. It was easy for me. Worryingly easy. Maybe I should just...'' Her eyes were downcast, and her pace was brisk. ''I thought he was the one. On... on Valentine's, there's this dance, and I thought maybe... maybe afterwards, he and I could...''

When she swallowed, it was salty with her tears. ''I'm sorry, you don't want to hear this. You're right. I should just say sorry, because if he loves me, he'll understand.''

''I keep telling you, you're too young to worry too much about love.'' Amy yawned again, but her voice suddenly went up an octave. ''Waitwhatdidyoujustsay? You thought you could... go to a movie?''

''A... movie? Oh. Ohhh.'' She ducked her head, staring at her feet as she waited for the light to change. ''I... I don't know. I know it's a lot to think about, but... it'd be romantic, right? It should be romantic.''

''No!'' Campbell suddenly squealed. ''Err, yes, but no! Don't even think about... Jesus, Quinn, don't get talked into that kind of shit. There's nothing romantic about high school. If he loves you, he'll accept the apology and keep his needledick in his pants. And you will keep him away from your mom's... that whole world.''

''It's not his idea, and I don't think I'll go through with it now because it'd seem like apology sex. I don't want our first time to be... to be like that. As to the other part...'' The sign changed to ''Walk'' and Gregory crossed the street slowly, meandering through the crosswalk. ''Keeping him out of it is fine, it's just... naïve. I don't want him to get hurt.''

She turned at the corner, peering in either direction. Her words came a little faster as she jaywalked the next corner. ''I don't want anyone to get hurt by this... this stuff.''

''Don't... okay, I seriously can't handle hearing you talk about wanting to have... gah. No. When I'm back in town, we can have a long talk about it – I'll probably have to drink, but we can talk – but just... don't even think about it until then. And you should stay out of your mom's... stuff. You really should. It opens doors to places you don't want to go, even if you think it'll be a thrill. It makes me sick to hear about you on 'missions' and shit.''

''They're not missions, they're cases.''

''Same difference.''

''It's not,'' Quinn sighed. ''She's helping people. She's trying to make up for all those things she did. I just wish you believed that.''

''I do, sometimes. It's just—''

Gregory squinted as she heard the muffled thump of a door closing on the other side of the line, then a man's voice. ''I'm telling you... the snow is, like, three feet high out there.''

The girl's thin lips pursed – it was the one expression she shared with her mother. ''Where are you, anyway?''

When she mouthed 'Oh shit', Amy was thankful that video conferencing phones had never come into fashion. ''I'm skiing, actually. Not right this second, but we went skiing.''

''Ah.'' She swallowed hard, trying to choke down the question – unsuccessfully, as it turned out. '''We'? Not that it's... not that it's any of my business. In fact, you don't have to answer it at all.'' She tried to smile. ''You're right, I should—''

''I called Jared to come out and keep me company. Don't worry, it's nothing like that. I just got bored on my own.''

Quinn nibbled on her lip, changing the subject. ''So, uh... so when will you be home? I mean, it's cool that you're having fun, so... I just...'' The girl sighed again in frustration. ''I hate that this is so awkward,'' she mumbled.

''A week or so.'' Campbell answered ''I don't know how long until I'll feel like seeing Oakland again, so give or take a few days.''

''Okay.'' The strip mall at the corner was the girl's final destination, the suite at the end being her mother's private investigator's office. ''Just... don't forget about us, or, you know, I could totally give it up to a boy or something.'' Her face screwed up in disgust. ''And that was pretty lame, sorry.''

Amy chuckled. ''I'm getting a place near you, and I'm only gonna be gone a few days... but keep talking like that and when I come back, if Brandon disappears, you'll know what's up.''

The girl tried to smile. ''I'll alert the authorities. Miss you.''

''I've only been gone a couple days!'' Campbell laughed. ''It's not like—''

''You know what I mean. Don't suppose you want to talk to her?''

''Uh...'' Amy stammered. ''I'm not really sure that's...''

''It's okay.'' Quinn touched her forehead to the door. ''Have some fun, but don't hurt yourself. You still have to beat Lane to get that belt back.'' The girl's smile was demonstrably unhappy, but she tried not to let it show. ''Love you.''

''You too.''

The girl tapped the little red ''hang up'' button, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. With a sigh, she pushed into the office, dumping her bag onto a chair in the waiting room. She shuffled to the receptionist's desk – her mother hadn't hired anyone to answer the phones. Alex said it ''wasn't necessary,'' but the blinking red message light and the haphazard stack of messages strewn about the desk gave her daughter pause.

The girl looked over her shoulder as she settled in behind the desk. Alex's office door was shut, but the light was on inside, which generally meant that she was in. ''Amyland'' – the section of the waiting room Campbell had designed to keep herself entertained during what she'd projected to be many visits – was meticulously taken care of, the only part of the office that showed no sign of the clutter that was slowly taking over the place. It wasn't that it all was disorganized – Alexandra Pierce did not live in chaos. It was orderly, just not in an order that Gregory could understand.

She was still puzzling it out when she heard the voices raised on the other side of her mother's door.

''Do you really expect me to believe all of this?'' Her mother didn't raise her voice often, so the fact that it was that loud then drew a quizzical stare at the door. ''That it's now that you need my help? Come on, Kathryn trained you better than this.''

''How many times do I have to tell you this isn't a trick?'' Quinn furrowed her brow – she recognized that voice, but wasn't sure exactly who it was. ''I need your help.''

''You need someone who's close to me, since your new fearless leader – the real one, I mean – is probably wondering what I have planned.'' There was a sharp, aggravated sigh in her mother's words. ''Generally, the way you pull something like this is to make yourself valuable to the mark. Find something that Lane can afford me to know, offer it to me in trade.''

''You know what? Fuck you, Alex.'' There was a scraping sound – chair leg on tile, in all likelihood. ''You like to talk about helping people, about how you've turned over a new leaf, but I guess the only person who's worth helping is you.''

The door to the inner office was flung open, and it was with the sharp click of heels that Julissa Minorez stalked out, her head down. Her eyes flicked to the girl at the desk, perfectly arched honey-brown eyebrows contracted. Even out of the risqué wardrobe she favored on SCCW programming, the Mexican Minx was still a striking figure, her forest green halter top straining against the jostling her increased speed caused.

Gregory raised one hand in an awkward wave as Minorez neared. ''Hey, Juli... everything okay?'' the teen asked.

''I'm fine,'' the Minx said, lifting long-nailed fingers to brush at her cheeks. ''Really, I—''

''Quinn.'' Her mother's voice was sharp from her office doorway, the tone hardening the soft look of her blond guise. ''Shouldn't you be at school?''

''I... maybe, but not today.'' The girl looked from Minorez to Pierce. ''What's going on here?''

''I was just asking for—''

''Enough.'' Pierce's tone brooked no disagreement. ''I will not have you use my daughter as a weapon against me.''

''Now just hang on a second.'' Gregory stood, setting down a manila file folder. ''Juli, come on. Have a seat.''

Minorez complied with the girl, slumping into one of the office chairs, elbows on her knees. She brushed her hands through long, tawny-brown hair. Quinn strode briskly to the water cooler, filling a cone-shaped cup with some cold water, which she passed to Julissa, who murmured her thanks.

''Quinn.'' The sharpness in her mother's voice hadn't faded. ''Can I see you for a minute?''

''I'll be right back,'' Quinn said. ''You can stay until you're ready to leave.''

''Not sure that's your call.'' Juli managed a weak smile. ''But thanks.''

''Quinn.'' Alex had retreated into the office, but her voice still easily reached them, and sent the teen scurrying into her mother's office. ''Shut the door,'' Pierce instructed. ''Not all the way, though.''

The girl nodded. ''Look, Mom, I just think—''

''Why aren't you in school?''

''I... Brandon got really mad about the thing earlier with you acting at him, so we got in a fight, and I really didn't want to see him.''

''So you ran off? Left school?''

''Is that really any different than when you left early to go shoot someone?''

Alex paused in her tracks back to her desk, her eyes briefly closing. ''It is different, because I am an adult.''

Quinn managed to smile, hoping that it would leak into her words since Pierce hadn't turned. ''Sometimes I wonder. What's this thing with Juli?''

''She says she's worried about Jadian.'' Pierce waved a hand through the air. ''That's not really important. Did I—''

''It is important. If she needs your help and you can hurt Lane...''

Alex slammed her palms into the desk. ''Don't change the subject, young lady. You can't just skip school because you had a problem with your boyfriend.''

''And you can't just skip out on life because you drove Amy away.''

Just like that, the air was let out of Pierce's balloon. ''It's not like that.''

''Look, Mom...'' Quinn sighed. ''I love you. I love watching you grow, and anything I can do to help you, you know I'll do it, but... you had fifteen months to tell her.''

''Don't you think I know that?'' Alex's voice was miserable, choked off. ''I was selfish, greedy. I thought...'' She blew out another sigh. ''I was wrong, but it doesn't change the way I feel about her. Or the way I feel about Julissa Minorez.''

Quinn leaned back against the wall, ''Isn't it possible she needs your help?''

''People don't change.'' Alex carefully stacked a pile of paper on her desk, just to keep busy. ''Not without a reason.''

''You changed because you love Amy. Isn't it possible that she changed because of Jadian?'' Gregory tried to smile. ''Come on. I had a really crappy day, and I don't want to fight with you.''

''Then just trust me.'' Pierce met her daughter's eyes. ''Something's not right about this.''

The girl's thin shoulders hooked in a modicum of a shrug. ''Something off with something you're involved in? I disbelieve.''

Alex's smile wrinkled. ''Why is this important to you? Juli is a horrible person.''

''They used to say the same thing about you.'' Quinn shrugged again. ''All I'm saying is look into it. If I'm wrong, you'll find out and I'll clean the cat box for two weeks without complaining. Well...'' She paused, one side of her grin stretching out further than the other. ''Without complaining much.''

''Okay.'' Alex sighed. ''Have her come in.''

The girl nodded, pushing off the wall to the door. Her mother stopped her with a small gesture. ''Quinn?'' she asked.

''Yeah, Mom?''

Her mother didn't look up. ''You're going to school tomorrow, and you're not leaving again, or you're not coming to Seattle.''

Quinn tucked that tarry hair behind one ear, nodding. ''I figured.'' She poked her head out into the main office. ''Juli?''

Minorez was still seated in the waiting room. If she'd heard them arguing, she didn't show it, lifting her head to meet the girl's gaze.

''She'd like to see you now,'' Gregory said with a smile.

The Minx flowed to her feet, taking a few hesitant steps forward. ''Really? What did you tell her?''

''Only that she should give people the same benefit she's hoping to get.'' Quinn folded her arms. ''Screw this up, and I promise you won't just have her to worry about.''

The heels of Julissa's sandals clicked on the tiled floor as she crossed to the office. ''I'm quaking in my boots,'' she murmured, stepping past Gregory to slip in.

''You're not, but you'd learn.'' Quinn stepped back to the reception area, rolling her eyes. ''But you will be.''

It took the better part of an hour for the girl to straighten out the system her mother was using (she was going by case type, rather than client), and she was just about finished when the door to Alex's office opened again and a much happier Minorez stepped – floated – out of her mother's office.

''All right,'' Juli was saying, smiling over her shoulder. ''So I'll call you?''

''I'll call you.'' Pierce emerged from her office, hanging her (still styled) blond wig on a white foam wig stand. Her blood-red hair was wild, cheeks flushed. ''Once I'm sure you're not leading me on.''

Julissa stopped at the glass door, using her reflection to touch up her Royal Rajah Ruby lipstick. A smirk played across her lips. ''But you're taking my case?''

''I'm vetting your case. If it has merit, then I'm a hundred dollars a day plus expenses. But that's negotiable.''

''Vet away.'' Minorez pulled open the door, sliding on a pair of Coach sunglasses to fight off the afternoon sun. ''I look forward to negotiating.'' Neither Pierce could see the brunette's smile as she left, but then, nether needed to.

Quinn watched the whole exchange with one brow crooked, just barely. The girl's cheeks were vaguely pink, drawn. It was almost five full minutes after Minorez was gone that the girl slid to her feet and crossed to her mother's door. ''Hey,'' she said.

Pierce looked up from her monitor. The ice blue contacts were still in, and they nearly reflected the screen. ''What's wrong?''

''Nothing. I just... ugh. Just tell me you didn't sleep with her.''

Still-blond brows lifted. ''With Julissa?''

Quinn nodded a little, grabbing onto the doorframe, as if she were scared the truth would knock her over. ''Yeah. I mean, I get it. You're... you're pretty much the loneliest person in the history of ever. And I get that you might want some companionship. I do. But... her?''

''I am not sleeping with Julissa Minorez.''

''Oh. It's just that she fixed her makeup and your hair was—I'm being silly.''

Her mother's voice was quiet, even. ''If I wanted companionship, it wouldn't be from Julissa Minorez. I love Amy. I will always love her.'' Her smile was small but sad – she was putting on a brave front. ''If I can't have Amy, then I won't have anyone.''

''Don't do this to yourself.'' Quinn, in turn, was miserable. ''You made a mistake, and she's mad now, but she'll get over it. I talked to her today, and—''

''You what?'' The cool whisper was like the crack of a whip.

''I... I needed someone to talk to after Brandon and I fought. And she's out skiing with Jared or something—''

''You had no right to call her. I don't want anyone telling her that I'm some pathetic wreck without her. I don't need her pity, and you are still just sixteen—''

''Don't. Don't do that.'' The snap in her daughter's whisper was little different than Alex's own. ''I am tired of people discounting me because I am 'only sixteen'. I called Amy, because I couldn't call you. Because you're always so busy, and because I don't know how to talk to you.''

''What do you mean you don't know how to talk to me?''

''It used to be that you were cold. It was like you were scared to try. And then you met Amy, and it was great. I saw a whole different side of you. It was a side that was great. You're funny, thoughtful... you were great. But... there's this whole different side of you. I mean, what you did to Amy... how could you even think of that? She was your friend!''

Pierce's hands were flat on the desk blotter, her head down, eyes shut. That 'brave front' was increasingly difficult. ''She wasn't. Not then.'' There was a long moment of silence, Alex struggling for the words. ''I'm not going to defend what I did – there isn't one I could offer. I did it. I regret it, and I can only ever hope that she will give me a chance to make it up to her. But that has to be on her time, not with you meddling to make it happen because... because of whatever reason you have.''

Quinn stepped forward – it was more like she launched herself forward. ''I need her. I need both of you. Yeah, you screwed up. You screwed up a lot. But I'm worried about you. You can't keep doing this to yourself forever.''

''I have no intention of doing this to myself forever.''

''When does it stop, then?'' Quinn wiped her eye with the sleeve of her shirt. ''You don't think I hear you crying? You don't think I've noticed you've been drinking? All these crazy cases you're taking on? You're looking for some magic formula so Amy will realize you're not the same person who did these things, and you're going to get hurt – or worse. I couldn't take that.''

Alex looked away, but only for a moment. ''I will be fine. I just need some time to prove I'm not some monster – not to Amy, but to myself.''

''And what am I supposed to do until then? Not worry?''

''I'm not asking you not to worry.'' Pierce blew out a sigh, as much out of frustration as sadness. ''I'm asking you not to worry her. She has enough to sort out in all of this without you reminding her of the lowlife that put her in this position.''

''I can't promise that.'' Unlike her mother, Gregory couldn't hold back the tears. ''You two were great together, no matter what either of you think now. You're the closest thing to a family I've ever had, and I won't stop fighting just because you've given up.''

''I am your family, Quinn, and I'm asking you--''

''No, I'm asking you not to just... just let this end. If you love her, then fight for her. Don't just let her go back to Darcy or to find some dweeb to fill the void. You guys were meant to be.''

''Sometimes that's just not enough,'' Alex whispered thickly. ''I'm asking you as your mother to give this time. It'll all work out.''

The teen gritted her teeth, shoulders coming up in a modicum of a shrug. ''I told you, I can't promise that. You're not the only Mom I have.''

Her daughter's words sent Alex rocketing up out of the chair, her brows livid. ''You are not her daughter!'' she shouted. ''You are my daughter, and you will do as I fucking say for once in your life!''

Quinn recoiled as if she'd been struck. ''Wow.'' She retreated back to the doorway. ''You really just said that to me.'' The girl spun away, words trailing behind her. ''You know, maybe you should have fucked Julissa. You're a lot less of a bitch when you're getting some regularly.'' She pulled the inner office door shut with a bang, stomping back to the reception desk.

A few minutes later, her mother stalked back out, pulling on a light Oakland A's windbreaker. ''I'm going out,'' she said. ''Take messages if anyone calls, and I expect you to email your classmates to find out your homework.''

''Where are you going?'' Quinn asked. ''Did you get the job?''

''I'll know by Friday.'' Alex didn't look back. ''And I'm going out.'' Her tone was close to the old Desade voice, daring her daughter to question her. ''Don't leave.'' Pierce slipped on wire-framed sunglasses as she strode briskly to her convertible.

Quinn pursed her lips in annoyance, her chin up. She wouldn't sulk – she refused to pout. The girl set about bringing some semblance of rational order to the office; voicemails were transcribed, files sorted alphabetically, and packages opened. She made several runs to the dumpster, and was just about to declare the job done a couple hours later when she heard the purr of a car in the parking lot.

A quick glance through the glass door proved that to be only partially correct – there were two different cars (her mother's Chrysler and a bronze Ford pickup) outside, parked nose-to-nose, both driver's side windows down.

One of Quinn's thin brows lifted as she watched, trying to be surreptitious. The Spider's head lolled back with laughter, but shadows and positioning conspired to protect the identity of the pickup driver. After a few moments, the truck sped off, and Pierce swung the convertible into her spot.

Alex had changed since she left, shedding Denise Palumbo's desperate, trying-too-hard image the same way a snake sheds its skin. The change took a good half-decade off with it. Designer jeans clung to dancer's legs, her old school, kitten heeled pumps swapped for new, patent leather stiletto-heeled bitch boots. Her beige, V-necked tank top depicted an Ouroboros, but the most noteworthy change was her hair. Usually a wild mass of bloody red ringlets, her mane had been styled, straightened, and the shade lightened by a few degrees. The burnished highlights buried within were new, and, coupled with her makeup, went a long way to soften admittedly severe features.

''Wow,'' Quinn said once her mom was inside. ''You look... wow.''

Alexandra Pierce would have been more comfortable if she was pretending to be someone – anyone – else, and, if she were being honest, she'd admit she thought about it. Maybe Alice Pierce would be more fun, but that would defeat the purpose. She was changing. ''Tell me you don't hate it,'' she said, the sentence rising at the end hopefully.

''I definitely do not hate it.'' Her daughter grinned – it was a timid, shrinking thing. She wasn't sure where she stood. ''You kind of look incredible.''

Alex set down a double handful of shopping bags, crossing to the desk. ''Thanks.'' She put a hand to her hair. ''I thought maybe... maybe it was time for a change. I guess I blame Lance.''

''I like it,'' Quinn said emphatically. ''It's cute.''

Pierce's strides back to the bags were lighter; even with the heels, she was floating. ''I, uh... I got you something.'' She retrieved a white paper bag, setting it before her daughter. ''Call it an 'I'm sorry I was a jerk' gift.''

''In-N-Out!'' The teen nearly squealed with excitement. ''You didn't have to do that!''

The Spider perched at the edge of the desk, busying her hands with adjusting the cuff of her jeans over the top of her boot. ''I think I kind of did. I was mean. I just... I don't want her to take me back because she feels sorry for you, or because you convinced her to. I want her to want to.''

''But you do want her to.''

''God, yes.'' Alex tried to smile, and it was stronger than it had been earlier in the day. ''I don't think I've ever wanted anything more.''

''And you'll fight for her?'' Quinn's brows came up over the rims of her glasses hopefully.

''To my dying breath,'' Alex whispered.

Gregory smiled, unloading her double-double and fries from the bag. ''Then we're golden.''

Pierce pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter's head. ''Thanks for reorganizing around here.''

''Not a problem.'' The girl gestured with her burger-free hand. ''That DVD you've been waiting for is in your office. Are you really going to—''

Alex hopped off the desk, striding that way. ''I spent almost a thousand dollars on the outfit, so you're damn right I'm going to go through with it.'' The Spider stopped at the door. ''Besides, the clothes are...'' She cleared her throat, and there was something flatter, airier. ''The clothes are, like, hellafetch.'' Her nose wrinkled in a grin that was nauseatingly saccharine.

Pierce's de facto receptionist rolled her eyes, returning to her burger. ''You do things like that way too easily, by the way.''

''You'll learn.''

Quinn Gregory wasn't sure which was scarier: that her mother was probably right, or that the idea was so thrilling, her teeth hummed. It wasn't the easiest life a sixteen-year-old could live – balancing school, travel, a boyfriend, her mother's decaying lesbian affair, psychoses, and job – but it was the only one Quinn was likely to get, and there were moments she wouldn't trade for anything.

Like when she skipped out of school, called her mom a bitch, and was rewarded with In-N-Out.

''Hellafetch,'' indeed.