Sunny Sweet Is So Not Sorry by Jennifer Ann Mann Page B

a voice that wasn’t Shawna’s.
    I opened my eyes.
    Sunny
.
    I’d never been so happy to see my little sister in all my life!

The Fix
    Sunny pushed me out the door and away from poor Maria and her mean mother. We headed down a hallway, and then we made a right and headed down another. My neck felt like a rubber band, and every time I blinked I had to pull my eyelids back open again.
    â€œWhere are we going?” I mumbled.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Sunny said, “no place bad.”
    â€œI wasn’t worried until you said
that
!” I said.
    A lady with a plastic name tag swinging on a string around her neck walked toward us. She slowed herhigh-heeled step as we approached each other. “We’re just out for a stroll,” I said, as a tiny bit of drool made its way over my lip and down my chin. And then I yawned so wide and long that my jaw just about cracked in two. When the yawn was finally over, the lady was gone and we were sitting in front of a row of elevators.
    Again, the soft notes played over the sound system, followed by the lady’s voice.
“Would Marsha Sweet please come to the front desk on the main floor of the Shapiro Building? Marsha Sweet, please come to the front desk on the main floor of the Shapiro Building.”
    â€œTh-they’re afterrr usss,” I slurred, closing my eyes and leaning my head back in my wheelchair. I wanted to care that they were after us, but I was just so tired.
    â€œDon’t worry. I’m going to fix everything.”
    â€œNooo!” I shouted, but only in my dreams. Because I was now definitely, mostly, and unfortunately asleee …
    * * *
    â€œIt pinches,” I said.
    â€œI’m fixing it,” said Sunny as she loosened the strap on my helmet.
    â€œI don’t want to go,” I whined.
    â€œStop complaining,” my mother said. “Just think—you’re going to be the very first fifth grader in space! What a special gift your little sister is giving you.”
    Sunny strapped me down into her rocket and then lit a fiery torch. “Good-bye,
Marsha
,” she said, smiling.
    â€œNooo!”
    I sat up, sucking in a giant gulp of air like I’d just come up after a really deep dive into a pool. I wasn’t in a rocket. I wasn’t blasting off from Earth. I wasn’t exploding into a million pieces.
    It was a dream … just a dream. I laughed out loud—the sound of my laughter bouncing off the walls and coming back at me. I was alone in a dark room lying on a hard bed. Where was I? Maybe this was a dream too.
    The door opened, and Sunny peeked in.
    â€œYou’re awake,” she said.
    â€œWhere are we?”
    â€œThe basement of the hospital,” she said.
    â€œHuh?” I scooted off the bed, noticing the cast on my arm. And then it all came back to me—Mrs. Song on the bike, the ambulance, Calvin, my arm, the lady on the loudspeaker, and Sunny wheeling me away.
    I stared hard at Sunny. She had that look.
    â€œWhat did you do?”
    â€œNow, don’t be mad, Masha,” she said, taking a step backward.
    â€œSunny … what did you do?” My hands flew to my head. I felt hair. I felt flowers. I felt itchy and damp. I felt nothing different.
    â€œYou didn’t do anything?”
    â€œI couldn’t dissolve the glue,” she said, her skinny little shoulders falling an inch. “I tried, Masha, I really did.” She stepped all the way through the door, holding her hands behind her back.
    â€œWhat’s behind your back?”
    â€œNothing,” she said.
    â€œSunny,” I growled.
    She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s just a simple pair of levers hinged at the fulcrum,” she said.
    â€œSunny,” I demanded, “what is in your hands?”
    She pulled out a large pair of scissors.
    â€œSunny!”
    My shout made her drop the scissors. “I was going to try to cut them off. You weren’t