Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Read Online Free

of vanilla and then sighed heavily and also let him get everything he wanted, explaining to me that it was just Jake’s “nerves” that were making him behave so badly. Right.
    The final straw was on Sunday afternoon, when my mom came back from Matt’s game and had a small bag of presents for Jake—a team hat, a hoodie, and a mini basketball net and ball for his room.
    â€œWhat does he get all this for?” I asked.
    â€œOh, Emma, you’re really starting to become a counter,” said my mother impatiently. Being a “counter” is a major insult in my family. It’s what my parents say about people who are overly concerned about what others have and count all the things they want. As soon as she said it, I turned on my heel, went to my room, and firmly shut the door. (I didn’t slam it, even though I really wanted to!) My mom came up later to apologize, but I didn’t feel any better and I let her know it.
    â€œYou can’t turn this whole family into Jake’s slaves, just because you feel sorry for him!” I said.
    â€œI know,” my mother agreed, wearily rubbing her temples. “I just hate to see him so upset.”
    â€œHe’s upset because he’s spoiled,” I said.
    â€œI guess he is,” she replied.
    I was momentarily thrilled that I’d gotten her to agree with a criticism of one of my brothers; usually, she just defends them or explains away their bad behaviors.
    But then I felt guilty.
    â€œAll I’m saying is, the same rules should apply, even if he does have to go get a little operation,” I persisted. “I bet part of why he’s so upset is because you’re being so overly nice to him; it’s making him suspicious. So no matter what you say, all the presents and ice cream make him think the operation really is a big deal.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re right,” she agreed with me, sighing.
    Great, and . . . ?
    â€œI just feel bad for him,” she said.
    Aaargh!

    I was relieved when the weekend was over and I got to leave my house and get away from the monster. I was actually looking forward to school. However, on Monday, all the Cupcakers wanted to know about was how “poor Jake” was, and “What can we do for him?” There was no escape!
    At lunch, Mia, Katie, and Alexis brainstormedabout ways they could make him feel better, and in the end they decided that a little cupcake send-off next Thursday after school would be a great idea. Then they all begged to come to my house again after school today, to do some sample baking and taste testing with Jake, one of their favorite pastimes. (Since he is such a sugar nut, he’s very gratifying to feed.) But I absolutely refused, insisting I needed to be away from that kid as much as possible or I would be tempted to take his tonsils out myself with my bare hands.
    So after school the four of us trooped over to Katie’s and had a little baking session there. (Katie: “I bet he’d love snickerdoodle, right, Emma?” Me: “What ever .”) It wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had.
    After about an hour the phone rang, and it was actually my mom calling for me.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I said, taking the phone from Katie.
    â€œHi, honey, I spoke to the PR person at the hospital who’s coordinating the shoot. She gave me the details, and she’s going to have to know right away if you’re interested, which is why I’m calling you.”
    â€œGreat! What is it?”
    There was a little pause. “Well, it’s next Wednesday. . . . I know you usually only model onweekends, but just this once I’ll make an exception.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œPretty good money: Three hundred dollars . . . for about two hours’ work.”
    â€œAnd?” I was getting impatient. I could tell she was hiding something from me.
    â€œWell, Em, it’s for the blood