Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) by Marina Adair Page B

Brooklyn, who was grinning. And Emerson knew that grin—she’d used it a time or two when outsmarting kids in her class. Brooklyn had dealt Violet a losing hand, and poor Violet didn’t even know she had cards to play. Good thing for the Blake girls, Emerson did.
    “I think we might need to clarify exactly which problem you’re agreeing to,” Emerson said.
    “Sometimes it’s hard to see past our loved ones’ failings.” The moral voice of perfect mommies everywhere leaned in, patting Emerson on the shoulder. “Perhaps we should talk about this in private.”
    Emerson looked at the five sets of eyes on her, then shrugged. “I’m good. Because I know my sister. She wears wings to school, hides her vegetables in the bottom of her milk”—Violet gasped as if Emerson was all knowing—“and pulled a fire alarm because someone told her that there were zombies in the morgue, but she isn’t a troublemaker.”
    “Some would disagree.” Liza gave Emerson a long, thorough examination, her brows furrowing, which looked bizarre since her forehead didn’t move. “Regardless, your sister has a history of creating problems and with the Loveliest Survivalist Campout coming up in just a few weeks, I’m sure the other parents are concerned.”
    “Are you implying that my sister’s not welcome at the campout?”
    “Heavens no,” Liza said, waving a manicured hand. “I’m implying that perhaps it would be easier if you removed her from the group altogether.”
    Violet sucked in a terrified breath and her hand tightened around Emerson’s. “Are they kicking me out? Like for always? Cuz I need to get my survivor badge.”
    “Don’t worry, Vi, that isn’t happening,” Emerson said, ruffling her sister’s hair while getting eye to eye with Liza. “She made a mistake, but she wasn’t the only one at fault.”
    Brooklyn glared viciously at Emerson. The kid obviously had no protective instincts, because if she had, then she’d put those beady eyes back in her head before someone knocked them out completely.
    “I won the Mommy Choice Award for a wonderful post on my Whining, Dining, and Diapers blog titled ‘The Scoop on Acknowledging Shortcomings.’ It addresses the shortcomings of children as well as the parents.” Liza lowered her voice. “I could e-mail you the link.”
    “Why don’t you do that,” Emerson said. “And while you’re at it, can you send me the link to that article you did on bullying? Because I’d love to post it on the bulletin board at the Fashion Flower next to the surveillance footage of Violet’s bug buddy bullying her into pulling the alarm.”
    Liza made a horrified gasp while clutching at her surgically enhanced chest. “What are you implying?”
    Violet tugged on Liza’s pant leg, and when the woman looked down, Violet whispered, “I think she means that Brooklyn’s a little shit.”
    Every pint-sized face went round in awe, and Emerson worked really hard not to high-five her. Violet frowned. “What? I was just telling it like it is.”
    “The Lady Bugs are about manners and building young role models,” Liza informed the entire surrounding area. “I refuse to allow my daughter to be exposed to this kind of behavior! And I will not be responsible for a Lovely who doesn’t abide by my rules.”
    “Your rules suck,” Emerson pointed out, to the glee of the other four girls. “Lady Bugs should be about making friends and ice cream socials and fun.”
    Not that Emerson had all that much experience with any of those—she’d been too busy helping out at home. But she wanted different memories for Violet. It was she who’d signed her up for Lady Bugs to begin with. She wanted her sister to experience being a kid, have some fun, and find a space that she fit.
    “Not taking field trips to a hospital. I mean, is ‘Whoopee, I’m going to see sick and dying people today!’ something any of you ever say?”
    Not a single kid raised her hand. Not even Brooklyn. Then a