They Demanded $20,000 At 1 A.M.—So I Told Them To Call Her

was sprawled on the couch, crying because she wanted a designer dress for a dance she wasn’t even old enough to attend.

“You don’t need things like that, Eevee,” Veronica had said, her tone matter-of-fact, one hand stroking Mia’s hair. “You’re practical. You’re the strong one. You’re built like a cart horse.”

I’d frowned. “A what?”

“A cart horse,” she’d continue reading …