I don't believe in fairy tales or happy endings. There are only tragedies and irony. Did my mother realize that when she named me Sorrow? My dad, too, when his addiction led to a tragedy that ironically landed me in the home of his enemy. I'm grateful for the Saints's generosity but am not thrilled to live under the same roof as their brooding son, Trace. The way he stares at me, as if I'm a little mouse and he, the hungry hawk, is unnerving.

She is hot one minute and cold the next. I can't get a good read on the girl with two first names, Sorrow Sophia. S. S. Can we get an O, please? Because this girl needs serious help, and I'll be the one teaching her the hard knocks of life. The first rule is don't disturb the sleeping bear by poking at it. But don't be fooled by Sorrow's timid voice and quiet presence. Inside that fine body is a fighter, and I love a good fight.