Sadie strode out of her room, her mouth a short, sour line as she made a direct line for the fridge. Watching from the couch, Dana got the sudden impression she was watching a conqueror who hated that she had been dragged into war in the first place. She resisted to urge to get up and make sure that Sadie hadn’t just left something to burn behind her.
“Something wrong?” Dana asked.
Sadie pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a full glass. “I took a nap,” she said sharply.
“I’m sorry,” Dana said.
“I hate naps,” Sadie said.
“I know,” Dana said. “Maybe you should sleep more at night.”
Sadie considered that for a moment. “Or just admit that I hate sleeping,” she muttered, more to herself than to Dana. She took a long gulp from her glass, then shoved the bottle back into the fridge. “Such a waste of hours.”