“I’m not in the mood.” Isobel swept past her, grabbed her belongings, and climbed upstairs to her mother’s apartment. Her bedroom was the first on the left. It was far different from her room in her father’s house, which was all brocade wallpaper and tarnished faux-gold everything and a musty smell no air freshener could mask. Her room here was clean and full of color, each of the walls a varying shade of gold and pink. This was the room where she hosted sleepovers, where she got ready for school dances. Her sanctuary.
