Excerpt:

Abby stumbled through the hall door a few minutes later, stretching, and looking like a sleepy, disheveled, and adorable kitten. She rubbed her eyes furiously and plunked down at the table across from Grace.
“What’s up, Pumpkin?”
Grace’s head came up out of her hands. “I am a failure at writing.” She jutted her chin at the notebook and then sighed wearily. “And I have a headache.” She added plaintively.
Abby yawned. “You want to know my secret for amazing writing?” She ignored Grace’s glare. “I use a pen name. A pen name is a mask which allows a writer to unmask herself.” She waved her hand airily. “I know, I know. I am brilliant. And I offer that to you freely.” She got up and made herself cup of tea. “I do demand that you let me read your story, though. I just helped you tremendously.”
“Oh? I missed that, somehow…” Grace retorted sarcastically.
Abby sniffed. “When did you turn into Rissa? Rissa is always so mean to me.”
“I am generally mean to you, too, dear. You just don’t realize it. I have you that much in my clutches.” Grace nodded significantly.
“Fine friend you are!”
Grace smirked.
“And I’m always so nice to you, too.” Abby continued in a bantering tone, ignoring the choking sound Grace made at this declaration. “It totally is not fair. I’m such a sweet clawless little… kitten.”
“Not to mention catty.” Grace interjected.
“…and you repay me by leaving me in rooms with very large dogs and stuck up in trees.” Abby resumed her whining as if Grace had not interrupted her.
“Yes, and making firemen come to your rescue.”
“Well, there is that,” Abby conceded, “Ok, I forgive you. Entirely. Because I see now that you are only bean for my own menefit.” She was glibly unaware of her spoonerism.
“Of course I am mean to you with your best in mind.”
“My hero!” Abby adopted a melodramatic pose for a moment. “I still suggest you use a pen name, though.”
“I might.” Grace mused, “Hildegaard Tubbins? Mary Smith? Gracie McHardy? Teresa Fandoffal?”
Abby groaned as Grace fell into the sometimes brilliant, sometimes annoying habit she had of churning out characters names like a machine. The girls had learned to ignore her when she got on a roll.
“Ok, this is wrong. Just totally wrong on a lot of different levels.” Abby was peering in the fridge. “We are out of carrot sticks. No, I’m serious.” She looked as if her world was going to crumble down around her.
Rissa walked in at this pivotal moment of the day—Abby’s attitude could lay the foundation for how the rest of the day would go. She stood in the kitchen doorway and surveyed the scene before her. Grace was still mumbling names while staring out the window with glassy eyes. Abby had closed the fridge, but was looking dangerously as if she was going to blow a fuse.
“Here. Try a pear. They’re good, too.” Rissa placidly handed over a perfectly proportioned and ripe pear. Grace and Rissa were used to these random and extreme displays of temper on Abby’s part. Thankfully, they never lasted long.
“A pear? You think a pear is going to suffice in place of a carrot? Honestly, Rissa, I’m surprised. A carrot has a certain sort of crunch to it. It has a certain taste. I certain ambiance…” Rissa interrupted Abby’s diatribe with a waggle of her fingers in her ears and stepped out on the back step to refill the birdfeeder.
By the time she returned, Abby seemed to have forgotten all about the disaster regarding the major lack of carrots in the house and Grace was nowhere to be seen.
A few hours later found Rissa heading out the door for her college classes in the town next door.
“Toodle-oo, girls!” She called out merrily. Much more merrily than I feel, though, she thought to herself. The door slammed behind her. Abby called out a rather belated goodbye from where she was sorting through the old linens in the linen closet. There was nothing but silence from Grace—she was ensconsed in the easy chair by the fire, scribbling studiously away at her literature writing assignment. She blew out a long breath and threw her book over on to the couch.
“Enough if enough.” She declared loudly as she stretched. “And that is way more than enough of that! Want some lunch, Abs?”
“Sure. Wait. No. I want carrots.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “I have some other things I need to get, so I’ll head out and do that. And pick up some carrots on the way home. Lots of them. Trust me.”
“My hero!”