“Her name is Emma,” my dad told her. I knew, in my rational mind, that he was just correcting her. I was Emma to him, I always had been. But as I heard him say this with such certainty, I could feel my temper rising. He could keep me from the other side of the lake. From Roo. But I would not let him take the weeks I’d already had, and the girl I’d been then, as well. “It’s Emma Saylor,” I corrected him. “And I told you. They know me here as Saylor.”
