I groaned as I spied the lines at the register. “It’s going to be—Olivia!” Too late. She lost control of the cart, smashing it into the back of a brawny-looking man. I grabbed the cart, blushing furiously as I yanked it back. “I’m so sorry! My sister didn’t… crap.”

Dustin Smith stared back at me, rubbing the back of his leg with one hand and holding a case of soda in the other. His brown eyes bounced from my sister to my face. “You should get better control of the brat.”

Anger rushed to the surface. It was one thing talking smack about me, but my little sister? I stepped in front of Olivia, blocking her. “Don’t talk about my sister like that.”

He smirked. “I can talk however I want to.”

I itched to take off my gloves. “Not about her.”

“This is rich.” Dustin laughed. “What are you going to do about it? Throw your food stamps in my face?”

I wished we qualified for food stamps, but I still flushed. “You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a frigid freak,” he spat.

So many witty comebacks floated to the surface. None of them would be appropriate for five-year-old ears. I turned to grab Olivia and just walk around Dustin, but she dodged my gloved hand. She walked right up to Dustin, her little hands balled into fists.

She kicked him in the shin.

So shocked by the pint-sized terror, Dustin dropped the case of soda. Brown liquid exploded off the tile, fizzing and streaming in dirty-looking rivulets. The right side of his pants was drenched with sticky liquid. We hadn’t drawn any attention up to that point, but several customers turned and stared at the mess.

Part of me knew I should yell at Olivia for kicking Dustin, but the other part, the really immature one, was secretly gleeful for the red stain rapidly spreading across his face.

“Smooth,” I said. “Got beat up by a little girl? Wonder what your friends would think about that?”

Before Dustin could respond, I ushered Olivia and the cart to the register furthest away from the mess. I bit my lip to keep from smiling as I knelt next to her. “Olivia…”

Her cheeks were ruddy, eyes bright. “He was mean to you.”

“I know, but you can’t kick people who you think are mean.” Even if they did totally deserve that and more, I silently added.

“Why not?”

I inched the cart up. “Because kicking people is mean, Olivia. And you don’t want to be a mean person like him, right?” She folded her arms, pouting. “No.”

“So, no more kicking?” I stood, pulling items out of the grocery cart. “Yeah. Okay.” She wiggled between the cart and a display of candy bars. “Can I have my cookies now?”

I shook my head, smiling. “In the car.”

Olivia smiled and giggled at the middle-aged woman ringing up our groceries, behaving like a precocious child instead of the ninja-child who’d kicked Dustin. That was my sister. She went from one extreme to the next within seconds.