Free Only Emma by Sally Warner, Jamie Harper Page B

just have to pick the pieces up, that’s all. And I’m counting every single one, so you’d better get started.”
    “No
way
,” Anthony squawks, and he starts hopping up and down, stomping on the puzzle pieces. He turns into a red-and-white-striped blur.
    So here I am, holding a book about birds in one hand while a strange four-year-old kid is going bonkers in my bedroom. He’s wrecking my stuff!
    I don’t know what to do.
    I am a girl who likes peace and quiet, at least when I’m at home. But there will be no peace and quiet as long as Anthony Scarpetto is around, I am thinking.
    My mom pops her head through the doorway,
finally
. “What’s going on in here?” she says.
    She’s asking
me?
I’m just standing here in my own room, minding my own business! “You’dbetter ask Mr. Big Baby Snit-Fit over there,” I say, pointing to Anthony.

    Anthony is still stomping puzzle pieces, but not as hard as before. It’s as if he is some weird Christmas toy, and a few of his double-A batteries are running down.
    “Anthony, honey?” my mom says, using her soft voice. She kneels down and holds out her arms.
    “Wah-h-h-h-h,”
Anthony cries, and he runs into my mother’s hug so hard that he knocks her over. I don’t like to see her hug Anthony. Where’s
his
mom, anyway? It is her job to hug this terrible kid.
    I mean, I feel sorry for her and everything, but tough.
    “Oof,” Mom says, and she laughs and gives little striped Anthony another big squeeze.
    Tears are squirting out of Anthony’s eyes as though he has a sprinkler turned on inside, thebig faker. “Emma wouldn’t play with me,” Anthony says. He is such a tattletale.
    “You call that
playing
?” I ask, and I point to the puzzle disaster all over my floor.
    “Simmer down, you two,” my mother says. “Emma, let’s get this picked up.”
    “Okay,” I say, “but Anthony has to help, at least.” Anthony snuffles and wipes his nose on his pajama sleeve.
    Yuck. That is so typical of him.
    “I don’t wanna help,” Anthony says, sliding me a look.
    “He doesn’t have to help,” Mom says. “I want Anthony to go into the kitchen, Em. His mother needs to talk to him.”
    Anthony gives me a secret
hah-hah-on-you
kind of grin.
    “But
Mom
,” I say. This is very bad for him!
    “Go on, Anthony—she’s waiting for you,” my mother tells him. And Anthony goes pattering off down the hall.
    “That’s so not fair,” I say. “He made this mess.”
    My mom is already picking up the pieces. “You two are going to have to learn how to get along, Emma,” she tells me. “Just because you don’t have any brothers or sisters, that doesn’t mean you can’t—”
    “But I
was
getting along,” I say. I am interrupting her, but this is important. “Anthony is the one who wouldn’t play right,” I tell her. “He was pounding puzzle pieces into the wrong places—with his bare fist!”
    “He’s only four,” Mom reminds me, scooping up some more puzzle pieces.
    I am starting to feel even angrier than before. “Well, anyway,” I say, “I don’t
have
to learn how to get along with crazy Anthony, because he will be going home in about one minute. Thank goodness.”
    “I wanted to talk with you about that,” Mom says, and she settles back as though we are about to have a cozy little chat.
    I do not want to have a chat with her tonight. I just want to be left alone—in my nice, quiet, picked-up room. That’s all.
    I have library books about insects that I need to read.
    So I don’t say anything.
    I can hear Anthony crying again, though—in the kitchen, this time.
    “Anthony will be staying with us for a little while, Emma,” Mom says, her voice soft. “For at least a week, actually.”
    “What?” I yell. I can’t help it.
    My mom pats her hands in the air like that is going to calm things down. “Shhh,” she says. “Anthony’s grandmother in Tucson is very sick, sweetie, and his mom and dad are going to go help take care of