Happily Ever Emma Read Free

“I have to tell you something important. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
    “Okay,” Annie Pat says, her eyes wide. She pokes her arms down into my jacket’s pre-warmed sleeves and waits patiently. The cold sinks into my sweaty, long-sleeved T-shirt like icewater, but I just stand there, trying to figure out where to start.
    “Cross my heart and hope to die,” Annie Pat says, quoting the old promise, and so I start talking before she gets to the part that goes, “And stick a needle in my eye.” Because—yow!
    “My-mom-went-out-on-a-date-last-Friday-night,” I say, speaking as fast as I can. I peek around to see if anyone else is listening in, but so far, so good.
    “Huh? Say that again, Emma,” Annie Pat tells me. “Only slower this time.”
    “My mother went out on a date,” I repeat, hating the words.
    “Cool,” Annie Pat says, her navy-blue eyes shining with the so-called romance of it all. “Was the man handsome? Did he bring her candy and flowers?”
    “I didn’t meet him,” I tell her. “I don’t even know his name.”
    Annie Pat’s eyes grow wide. “So it could be anybody ?”
    “Anybody in Oak Glen,” I say, narrowing it down a little. “And don’t look so happy about it, Annie Pat. Because this is a disaster. It’s—it’s nuclear acid .”
    Annie Pat’s brow wrinkles. She wants to be a scientist when she grows up, too, and she probably knows there isn’t any such thing.
    “I mean it’s like nuclear acid,” I say quickly. “It’s nuclear acid – ish.”
    “But—why?” Annie Pat asks, still frowning a little as she decides not to challenge me about the acid. “Maybe he’s nice?” she says cautiously, making it a question.
    “He is not nice,” I say fiercely.
    And because Annie Pat is my friend, she slowly nods her head in agreement. “Not nice,” she echoes as we walk to class.
    My brain feels as though it is pounding inside my skull.
    And I think I may be getting a stomachache, too.
    Thanks, Mom .

4
    Word Search
    While Ms. Sanchez takes attendance, I look out the window at the cloudy sky. I squint at the trees and try to tell if it is raining yet—because I already know I’m “Here.” Or “Present,” as EllRay or Stanley will probably say when Ms. Sanchez calls their names. So I don’t have to pay attention.
    Ms. Sanchez always wears her shiny black hair pulled back into a bun, but on her it looks good. She uses her engagement hand a lot when she is explaining things, because she likes to watch her ring sparkle. Ms. Sanchez is engaged to marry Mr. Timberlake—not the famous one who’s on TV all the time, even though he’s still handsome—but we don’t know when the wedding will be.
    I secretly wish I could be her flower girl.
    They are going to live happily ever after. Somebody has to.
    Ms. Sanchez is wearing very pretty colors today, probably to cheer herself up because of the weather: a coral sweater, which Annie Pat will really like because she wants to be a marine biologist, and real coral is alive and lives under the sea, and dark chocolate-colored boots, which I really like because— mmm, chocolate.
    Ms. Sanchez wears such cute outfits! In fact, Fiona McNulty has started a secret fashion notebook where she draws what our teacher is wearing each day.
    I think Ms. Sanchez dresses so nicely because she’s in love. But Annie Pat and I have promised each other that even if we never fall in love, we will wear cute clothes when we grow up, just like Ms. Sanchez does. We will never dress the way our moms do, in baby-spitty turtlenecks and pull-on pants—like Annie Pat’s mother, because of Annie Pat’s baby brother, Murphy—or in pullovers, jeans, and boring flat sandals, which my mom wears, because she works at home.

    Scientists can look as cute as anyone, we have decided. And they can wear extremely high heels.
    “I have a word-search activity paper for you to do this morning,” Ms. Sanchez announces, surprising us—because