The Pretty Little One

Chapter 1: Emma Kendall Harding

A/N: Guys! This is the second part to The Pretty Little One, this part is called Smile and it's about Liam and Emma, Emma Harding is played by Ashley Benson. I had a picture of her in the prologue for this story, now I have a picture of Lanie McCloud, Emma's best friend. I picture Emma to look kind of like Brittnay Snow from Pitch Perfect, with her red hair not her blonde hair. I'm not going to keep posting chapters for this story, so this is on hold until August, or until I finish editing and writing my other stories, thanks for the support and for reading! -Amber xx

“Emma, Emma wake up! Wake up!” is what I woke up to on a Saturday morning. “What, Brena?” I questioned, keeping my eyes closed. Brena is my twelve year old sister, and is literally the only person besides my mom in my family that I care about. I know that sounds kind of mean, but my dad left after Brena was born because he decided to cheat on my mom with some girl that was ten years younger than him; I haven’t talked to him since. And my mom was an only child, and she had me when she was seventeen and her parents didn’t approve of her twenty five year old boyfriend, so she moved to California, in the United States, and then after I turned two she moved to London with my dad. Any other family that is in the United States I don’t talk to, and I don’t plan on talking to, I mean they didn’t want to reach out to my mom, Brena and I so I’m not planning on reaching out to them anytime soon.

“What do you want, Brena?” I asked her as she pulled on my long blonde hair again. I’m average height, about 5’4” with long blonde hair that reaches right bellow my boobs, and light blue-grey eyes. Brena is pretty much my mini me, except her hair is straight and reaches right above her butt, and her eyes are brown; well she acts like me and that’s pretty much a mini me, right?

“Mom and Walter left for work, and Julie and Vanessa want me to make breakfast for them, but I don’t know how to cook, Emma, and they said they’ll tell Walter if I don’t and he’ll take my roller blades away, Emma I need your help please,” She wept. I turned over and pushed my blonde mess out of my face and the drool off my chin, as well as the sleepies out of my eyes. “Sure thing, Bren, hang on just let me get dressed.”

Walter is Brena and I’s stepdad. When I was Brena’s age our mom married Walter, he loves her but she doesn’t love him because well, he’s a dick, and unfortunately he had to bring along his prissy daughters, Vanessa and Juliana. Vanessa is eighteen and I swear to god if she uses “Well you should let me because God loves me more, as you can tell,” again I might “accidentally” punch her into a coma. Vanessa thinks she’s better than everyone else because she’s a little prettier, and she’s not even that pretty. She’s a little taller than me for eighteen and she’s tan and has medium length brown hair with blonde highlights and dark brown eyes, and all her “friends” are just friends with her because of her dad’s money; I swear if her dad didn’t have all that money that family would be nothing.

Now Julie, she’s a different story, she can go from being the sweetest little girl out there one minute and then the next she can be a demon child. She picks on Brena all the time because her hair is thinner, and Brena has more friends and is nicer, Julie doesn’t have many friends, and the friends she does have is the same situation with Vanessa’s friends, they’re paid and bribed. That family seriously sickens me.

After I was done getting dresses in my usual leggings and baggy sweatshirt I went into the kitchen and started making waffles. “What are you doing, Emma?” Vanessa asked me as I started mixing the batter together and putting it in the pan. “Making breakfast because you were forcing a twelve year old who can’t even reach the stove to do it,” I said not taking my eyes off of the food I was cooking, but I could still tell that Vanessa and Julie were staring at me.

“She needs to learn how to cook sometime, so in all actuality, I was helping the little brat out,” Vanessa said as she turned back around and brought her attention back to her fashion magazine. “What did you call Brena?” I asked her, now I was turned around, (and I had a wooden spoon in my hand, but that doesn’t matter.) Vanessa looked at me and scoffed. “What?” I asked her, and she still didn’t answer. “Vanessa,” I said, I was already frustrated, I wasn’t supposed to get up for another half hour, Vanessa and Julie already are tormenting Brena, and now they’re calling her names.