“Luella!” Mom’s agitated voice invaded my dream of a hot boy flirting with me on the beach. I groaned, burying my face into my pillow. “Luella Angelina Sutton!”

My eyes shot open. Crap. Mom only used my full name when I was about to get grounded.

“You get your butt down here, right now!”

I sighed dismissively, pushing the covers off from me and sitting up. I peered over to my younger sister's bed, who unsurprisingly managed to sleep through all the commotion.

Then again, a bomb could go off right next to her, and she’d sleep through it. I wished I was that lucky.

“Luella,” Dad shouted. “You better have one hell of a good explanation for this!”

“I’m coming,” I shouted back and breathed out to myself, “Jeez. Relax, would you?”

“You’re in some big trouble, young lady!”

I rolled my eyes, pulling open my dresser drawer and rummaging through it until I found something worthy enough to wear. This consisted of jeans, a shirt and a hoodie. I pulled a brush through my long, tawny hair and nudged on a pair of sneakers.

I barely pushed open my bedroom door when Dad’s voice carried upstairs. “Judy, over here.”

“Eeek!” Mom screeched, and a thud sounded. “That’s it. You can try to catch it. I’m done with this!”

“Judy, get off from there,” Dad snorted. “It can’t bite you.”

“No,” Mom snapped. “What if the thing has rabies?”

I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be scarier than a werewolf—which by the way, my parents were. So was I, but I have yet to go through the change. Most make it through the change by the age of twelve. I was sixteen and have yet to sprout a mane and kickass claws.

Sigh.

I rounded the corner and entered the living room, finding Mom standing on the couch and Dad moving the furniture around. They both stiffened when they realized I was there, pinning with the best death-glares I had seen to date.

“Rats, Lue?” Mom hissed. “Really?”

My eyes widened when Dad lifted the broom. “No, don’t!” I cried out, swooping forward and grabbing the broom from him. “She has babies.”

“Oh, for all that is holy,’ Mom muttered in frustration. “There’s more of them?”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Dad scoffed. “Catch it and then put it outside with her babies. Now.”

“But it’s cold outside,” I protested. “They’ll die.”

Mom huffed. “I’ll arrange with Bentley to take them along with him to his pet shop when he comes to fetch the poodles for a groom. Okay? Just get them out of the—”

The tiny momma mouse, who I named Cinders, dashed out from behind the couch Mom stood on and ran in underneath the coffee table. I sighed, kneeling onto the carpet and scooped her out. “Poor thing. She’s shaking from fright.”

“Poor thing my tush.” Mom climbed off from the couch and took a few steps toward the doorway. She suddenly paused and turned around slowly, her gaze ridden with disgust. “What the hell are you wearing?”

I peered down at my clothes and shrugged. “What do you mean? This is what I wear every day?”

“It’s the twenty-fifth, Luella,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“So?” I peered at Dad, who seemed to be equally as confused. “Was there something important happening today that I missed?”

“The wolf trials, Luella,” Mom snapped. “It starts today!”

My mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? I thought it wasn’t until next week.”

“Did you even read the letter they sent you?” Mom scowled. “Because if you did, it specified you wear a dress, look pretty, and...Oh yeah, be ready by eleven AM on the twenty-fifth. Luella, it’s twenty minutes past ten!”

I cursed under my breath, pushing up onto my feet and almost dropping Cinders. I hurried toward Dad and handed him the momma rat. “The box with the babies is hidden beneath the kitchen sink. Please, be careful, they're still very small.”

Mom cried out in discontent. “Really, Luella?”

“I forgot, okay?” I waved my arms. “It’s not like I want to go. Do I really have to?”

“Yes!” Both my parents cried out at the same time. Then, Mom continued. “You, of all the girls, need this the most. You—”

“I don’t need the money,” I interrupted. “Sure, we don’t have plenty, but we’re fairly well off enough not to need assistance from the royals.”

Mom made a pretty good imitation of a swollen-up pufferfish, and her face turned into a vicious shade of red. She held up her hand to silence me and my shoulders sagged with defeat. She gave me that look that told me no matter how much protesting I’d do, she wasn’t going to cave in. Regardless, I tried again. “But—”

“No, Lue,” Dad sighed, placing down the broom on the couch while holding Cinders to his chest with the other hand. He stepped closer, a sad look on his face. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. It’s got nothing to do with money. You know that.”

Mom clucked her tongue, rolling her eyes so high I was worried it might get stuck like that. “Of course it’s got part to do with money. We need it. But it’s not the primary reason.”

“You need to go to the palace with the other girls to learn and train how to be a lady,” Dad continued. “I’m sorry to say this, but you’ve got manners like a back-alley stray dog.”

“Not to mention, you stir trouble every damn day the sun shines in this hell-hole.”

“Which is every day,” Dad added pointedly.

“And you dress like a boy.” Mom waved at my clothes. “You don’t date, or look at boys who try to court you. You can’t live in this house by the time you’re eighteen. What are you going to do then, Lue?”

Oh yeah, our standards require that girls either be engaged or married by the time they turn eighteen. There wasn’t a bigger scandal than a girl unmarried or single by that age, hence why parents around here kick their kids out to avoid the embarrassment.

I had to admit. Things weren’t looking up for me.

“Wow, could you be any more...brutal?” My eyes flicked to Dad. “Dad, do I really look like a boy?”

The long look Dad gave me wasn’t reassuring. He took in a deep breath, appearing like he was considering his following words with great care. “Lue, you are without a doubt one of the most beautiful girls I know.”

“But?” I could feel the weight in that sentence, knowing there was more to follow.

“Your mother is right. You need a more formal education and you desperately need to be taught how to dress.”

“And learn how to act like a lady,” Mom added. “You’re running out of time.”

“I still have two years, Mom. I might meet a nice guy along the way.”

“Lue, I was talking about the trials,” she huffed, incredulous. She waved a hand at me, ushering me toward the stairs. “Shoo, go get dressed, for goodness sake. There isn’t time to linger around!”