"Shannon!" Isabelle ran up the stairs to her stepsister's room. "Mom says if you don't get up in the next ten seconds, you're not going to soccer practice for the next month!" Shannon bolted straight up in bed. "Ohmigosh. I'm coming, I'm coming." She piled her messy black hair on her head and pulled an elastic around it, only vaguely securing it in place. Shannon sighed and thought it looked rather like the leaning tower of hair. Running downstairs, she asked, "What's for breakfast?" "Shannon," her stepmother said, looking at her grubby shirt, "those clothes are filthy." "No, they're not!" "Yes, they are. Get some clean clothes on." Shannon sprinted up the stairs and grabbed a pale blue t-shirt and black shorts from the laundry. She threw them on and ran back downstairs. Isabelle spar