Excellent Emma Read Online Free Page B

going,” I say, edging toward the hall. I am trying to escape to Annie Pat’s room before Mrs. Masterson actually shows Murphy’s new teeth to me.
    I’m interested in them, but not that interested.

    Annie Pat is so tired that even her hair is drooping. A shriveled-up cornflake is stuck to her pajama top. “Whoa,” I say. “I guess your mom was telling the truth about last night.”
    “Course she was,” Annie Pat says. “Whenever I started to fall asleep, I would dream there were these cats outside, fighting. But it was always Murphy. He makes a lot of noise for such a little baby.”
    “But he’s not crying now,” I point out. “Why can’t he cry during the day, when everyone’s awake?”
    “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask him?” Annie Pat says, sounding a little sarcastic, in my opinion.
    “Never mind,” I say quickly. “The important thing is that we get started on our training. You know,” I add, seeing the confused expression on Annie Pat’s face, “for Winter Games Day. Let’s go to the park and practice running or something.”
    “If I tried to run now, I’d just fall over and start snoring,” Annie Pat informs me.
    But she flicks a glance toward her awards corner, as if looking for empty spots.
    “You’ll wake up,” I assure her. “Think of the prizes they’ll be handing out next week!”
    “Yeah, if you win ,” Annie Pat says. “You’re better than I am at that kind of stuff, Emma. Admit it.”
    “No, I’m not,” I tell her. “Well, maybe I’m a little better. But I could help you train.”
    “I wanted us to do something fun today,” Annie Pat grumbles. “Like, we could look at the comic books my dad bought me. Or we could draw pictures, or play a board game. Or maybe watch a video.”
    “Watching a video isn’t going to make us any stronger,” I point out, also sounding grouchy—because Annie Pat talking about her father has made me remember my dad watching Lettice win her silver cup in London, England, last weekend.
    And so I tell Annie Pat all about Lettice and my dad, because we’re best friends.
    Annie Pat is quiet for a couple of minutes. “I think maybe your dad was just trying to think of something to write in his e-mail,” she finally tells me. “Or he wanted you to know how much he missed you. Or maybe that English girl is the only other kid he knows,” she continues, “and he thought you’d want to hear about her, for some crazy reason. It’s like when we go visit my aunt in Bakersfield, and she thinks I’m gonna love playing with her horrible next-door neighbor who stomps on snails—just because we’re both eight years old. Yeah, right!”
    “Maybe,” I say slowly, thinking it over. “I don’t know. My dad does keep saying he wants me to come visit him in England someday.”
    “There you go,” Annie Pat says cheerily, pulling on her jeans. “He probably pictures you and Lettice going horseback riding together.”
    “Well, he can think again,” I say, scowling. “I’m not going horseback riding with some—some champion , when I’ve only been on a horse once in my entire life, and that was a disaster, because my legs were so sore the whole next day that I walked like Frankenstein’s monster. Do I want to look bad in front of my very own father?”

    “I didn’t think of that,” Annie Pat says, her navy blue eyes wide.
    “And I’m not gonna trot around after Lettice holding her stupid silver cup, either,” I inform Annie Pat. “If that’s what my dad has planned.”
    Mrs. Masterson pokes her head into Annie Pat’s room. “Are you girls hungry for a snack?” she asks. “Because I have chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen, if anyone’s interested.”
    Chocolate chip cookies! And it’s only ten thirty in the morning! See what I mean?
    “Want a cookie, Emma?” Annie Pat asks, tugging a sweatshirt over her head.
    “No, thanks,” I say reluctantly. “Because I’m in training.”
    I skip the part about going out for