Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(26)

“Always stay with the group,” Violet said diligently, giving a pretty good impression of Emerson, making her wonder if she really sounded that uptight. But when it came to her family, rules were the only thing keeping Emerson sane.

“You.” Emerson pointed to the other bugs. “The group. See the problem here?”

“Rule number two is to respect my elders,” Violet said. “And Lovely Leader Liza told me to sit on the bench.”

“Why would she tell you to sit by yourself if she thought there was a fire?”

Violet toed at the ground for a good long minute, her fairy wings trailing water on the concrete as she swished. In the tinniest and tiniest of voices, she said, “Cuz someone pulled the alarm,” then closed her eyes tight and threw a handful of glitter in the air and whispered, “Wings, take me to Lilly Lane Willows.”

Well, hell. Emerson had to close her eyes too, because she was pretty sure that someone was silently wishing her way home.

“You’re still here, kiddo,” Emerson said and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Violet opened one cautious eye, then the other, only to realize she hadn’t magically transported herself to her backyard, and let out a despairing sigh. “Now, you want to tell me why you pulled the fire alarm?”

Violet shook her head. Emerson, not having any of it, flashed the Don’t mess with me, I control your bedtime face. Just like Emerson had when her mom issued that warning, Violet caved like a cheap suitcase.

“I got thirsty and drank all the water in Mister’s bottle. Then I had to go potty, real bad, and my bug buddy was Brooklyn and she said that we’d have to go by the morgue to go to the potty and I didn’t have no water for the zombies so I pulled the fire alarm to be safe,” Violet said in one giant rush of words with no pauses, her voice elevating with each syllable.

“Zombies?” Emerson asked, and it was a sad state of affairs that she was neither surprised nor confused by her sister’s statement. Living with Violet was like living in a choose-your-own-adventure story. Only Violet did all the choosing.

“Brooklyn said zombies eat fairies.” Violet’s voice was heartbreakingly low. “And if they ate me, then I wouldn’t ever get my wings to grow big. So I made it wet so the zombies couldn’t follow. I’m sorry, Sissy, I didn’t mean to make everyone mad, but I want big wings.”

Emerson felt her heart soften a little, because rule number six was to go to a teacher or trusted adult when being teased. But how could Violet be expected to rat out the bully to the bully’s mom?

“I get why you did what you did, and how it would have been hard to go to Mrs. Miner when Brooklyn was teasing you.” Emerson took a big, painful breath, and then leveled her sister with a look. “But zombies aren’t real, Violet.”

She shrugged a slim shoulder, her droopy wing sagging farther under the movement. “I know.”

“Then why did you pull the alarm?”

“Just in case,” Violet said and now she was looking Emerson in the eye. She was the one getting serious. “You said Bigfoot wasn’t real, but then I saw a show on Discovery that has these guys who’ve seen him. They have video and everything. So what if you’re wrong about zombies too?”

Being wrong about fairies went unsaid, but Emerson saw the challenge in her sister’s eyes. She might be six, but she was a Blake through and through. Most days Emerson admired that kind of tenacity, but today she was too tired. And too sad.

Making a mental note to address her sister’s television habits with their father, then deciding it would be easier to just cancel cable altogether, Emerson stood and took Violet by the hand. “Let’s go talk to Lovely Leader Liza and explain the situation.”

Emerson tried really hard to keep her cool, even repeated several times on her way over that punching Lovely Leader Liza, who wasn’t so lovely and was a shitty leader, in the face wouldn’t be a good example for Violet. Not to mention the cops were out in force, so she took a calming breath and said, “Liza, we’ve got a problem.”

Liza turned toward Emerson and flashed that Hollywood smile. Even in her Lovely leader uniform and drowned-kitty hair, she still managed to look the epitome of a Napa Valley momtrepreneur. Her heels were designer and her boobs fake and she had her camera out, probably snapping pics for her mommy blog. “I agree.”

Emerson looked down at Violet, who was looking back as though her entire world hinged on what was about to go down, then to 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.”