Izzy Moonheart stepped off the school bus and froze in the driveway. A shiny pink bicycle with a flower basket leaned against the porch, a glittery sign taped to its handlebars: CASEY'S. Izzy's stomach turned. Casey, her bully from Dark Moon Elementary, was now her sister. Mom had adopted Casey and a quiet girl named Jade last week, and Izzy still hadn't found a way to say what Casey really was. The kindness club paperwork crumpled in her fist. She had promised herself she would protect every misfit at school. She hadn't planned on needing protection at home. Inside, Mom was feeding Casey chocolates from a pink heart-shaped box. "My angel," Mom said, smoothing Casey's hair. Jade sat at the table, untouched plate in front of her. Casey smiled sweetly at Mom, then flicked her eyes at Izzy with that same cold look from the playground. Izzy tried. She really did. "Mom, can we talk? About Casey?" Mom waved her off. "Not now, Izzy. Casey had a hard day." Out the window, Izzy could see the new structure Mom had built in the yard last weekend — a tall pink treehouse wrapped in willow branches, gold trim shining. Only Casey was allowed inside. Izzy walked back out. She crossed the yard to the old wooden bench under the wind trees, where a dusty black guitar sat forgotten. This was her spot now. The branches whispered above her. She pressed her forehead to the guitar's cool wood and let one tear fall. Then Jade appeared. Quiet Jade, holding something in both hands — a small, glowing crystal that threw rainbow light across the grass. "I found it in the attic," Jade whispered. "I think it was yours." She set it on the bench between them. "Casey lies. I know she does. I'll say it with you." Izzy looked at Jade — really looked. A misfit. A sister. Someone nobody was listening to either. Izzy uncrumpled the kindness club paper and smoothed it flat on her knee. "Then you're my first member," she said. The favorite game was over. Now there were two of them.