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all that? ” Devin walks into the living room and checks to see if the other TV is on. Seeing that the screen is dark, his eyes dart back to his wife.
    “ Kids up? ” he asks. Marital mischief springs into his own eyes. The gentle curves of his wife ’ s neck round her shoulders, entering the top of her clinging shirt with regret.
    “ Not a peep. ”
    He paces back into the kitchen, hands moving with purpose. Katherine sinks into his arms. “ You ’ ll be late for your flight, ” she sings weakly but hopes he won ’ t care.
    “ But couldn ’ t we just … ” he blurts. His British inflection almost pleads out the words.
    Disappointment eats through him when he glances up at the clock. His shaking hands beg to finish their work. Reluctantly, they retreat back under the assault of another day ’ s schedule. Devin raises his baritone voice, still staring longingly at his wife. “ Kids! Time to get up, ” he shouts. “ Daddy has to get to the airport! ”
    Devin waits a second, not hearing the usual sounds of activity. “ Let ’ s go! ”
    He pops his head into the hallway and claps his hands. “ Haley! Tyler! Now, please! ”
    Haley opens her door, looking angrily out from the shadows. Her room ’ s entrance is covered with Gothic crossbones surrounded by black-and-white band photos. “ Not that school ’ s important or anything, ” she mutters.
    She walks coolly past him into the hallway, quickly averting her eyes. Normally electric blue , they now look bloodshot and exhausted. Haley ’ s clothes are stylishly frayed, with holes in the knee caps and a graying Ramones shirt about two sizes too small around her.
    Devin squints. “ That ’ s not what I said. And hey, ” he says, his tone sharpening. Colored streaks now punctuate his 15-year-old ’ s blond hair. “ What ’ s with the pink, Picasso? ” He holds up a lock of the multi-colored hair to the light before his daughter can escape. “ Expanding the palette a little? ”
    “ So? ” Haley rolls her eyes, snatching the strand away. The teenager speeds away from the interrogation and storms down the short hall into the kitchen.
    Katherine puts one arm protectively around her daughter.
    “ Mom, ” the teenager whines. She pushes out of her mother ’ s overbearing embrace. Hiding under the tiered cuts of her shoulder-length hair, she can feel her parents ’ knowing gaze upon her.
    Katherine glares at her husband. “ Well, I like it, ” she announces, bending down closer to inspect.
    “ No accounting for taste, ” Devin shouts back. Knowing he ’ s drastically outnumbered against an aligned feminine will, he spins back into the hallway before they can interject the last word.
    “ Guess I should ’ ve run it by the hair Nazi first, ” Haley grumbles.
    “ I heard that, ” her father ’ s voice echoes from the shadows. The demure look in Katherine ’ s eyes follows her husband up the steps, two at a time. It disappears the instant he reaches the top. “ So do you want to explain last night, ” she snaps. Her eyes are as hard as the granite countertop. “ Or should I just use my imagination? ”
    “ What? ”
    “ Don ’ t ‘ what ’ me. I saw his motorcycle leave this morning, Haley. ” Steely concern paints the brown and green flecks in Katherine ’ s eyes. “ If your father would ’ ve been awake … ”
    She cranes her head to look back through the kitchen door. “ Remember last time? ” Kat asks, lowering her voice. “ We ’ re lucky that boy ’ s parents didn ’ t sue us. ”
    Haley stares at the television set and rhythmically chews. The parental frequency is like static in her ears. “ Not my fault Dad ’ s an alcoholic. ”
    “ Haley! ” her mom hisses. Katherine ’ s emotions flash from surprise to sadness — then outrage — in a single heartbeat. Their echoes linger on her face.
    “ Like it ’ s a secret, ” Haley scoffs. The teenager glares at her mother, disrespect filling her eyes for trying to