A mix for Emerson Allman-Giroux.

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She could taste her own blood on her lips and her ribs ached. Emerson didn't need to lift her shirt to know that she'd cracked something and she'd be sporting ugly purple bruises for the next few days. She sighed -- no reaching to the top shelves for books for a while -- and yet... she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her lips, sure as sunset.

It was stupid, but tonight she'd done something more. Tonight... tonight she'd made a difference.

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