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ride that.”
Emma turned from the cooler, a watermelon cube halfway to her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not letting anyone ride it yet.”
Brooklyn frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s new. I’m still getting used to it.”
“It’s just a bike.”
That was when Vanessa lifted her sunglasses onto her head.
“Emma,” she said, with that sharp honey voice she used when pretending continue reading …
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