Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 015
“Fine,” Mira breathed, wishing, in that moment, that she could take back her exhale. The Pink Lemonade Brigade’s scent was suffocating. Like she’d stumbled into a garden that had been bred for the smelliest of flowers. Individually, they might have been nice. But all together like this, overpowering was a more accurate word.
She tugged on the end of the ribbon, and the bow unknotted. The other ribbons fell away, leaving only the yellow paper to contend with. Mira slipped her finger into a fold in the paper and followed it up to the point where it had been stuck to itself with beeswax. (Another oddity of the Pink Lemonade Brigade was their inability to deal with a simple piece of tape. The one time she’d talked one of them into helping her wrap a present of her own had resulted in the entire roll of tape mummifying Auntie Marigold’s hand.)
The wax came away easily, and Mira pulled the paper away. Now all that remained was the box.
And what was inside it.Read More
A smile crept into the corners of Mira’s lips. Did this mean that she only had one more year to go with the Pink Lemonade Brigade? In general, she had nothing against the elderly, but there had always been something different—off—with the old ladies in the Pink Lemonade Brigade. Something that belied the way they looked and hinted at mystery.