The Detention Club by David Yoo

that was different from being popular. She was always heading off to class or her locker or the library between periods, never stopping to chat with friends. Nobody called her over as she marched to the library after seventh period, and I wondered if maybe it wasn’t just the Sweet brothers who weren’t friends with her.
    By the end of the day I was sick of trying to act like I actually liked her, and at dinner Sunny started complaining about it to Mom and Dad.
    â€œHe’s following me everywhere,” she whined. “It’s annoying.”
    â€œYour brother just wants to be near you in school,” Mom said, smiling at me.
    I tried very hard not to throw up a little in my mouth and pretended she was right. I nodded, even though it made me feel gross to do it.
    â€œIt would be nice if my own sister liked to spend time with her brother,” I said.
    â€œYou’re a loser, though.”
    â€œI’m a loser? The Sweet brothers hate you!”
    â€œOf course they do—they’re nobodies!” She laughed. “They’re probably going to be in the eighth grade for the next ten years.”
    I thought about it for a second.
    â€œWhat about everyone else in school?” I asked. “How come I never see you hanging out with anyone between classes?”
    Sunny glared at me.
    â€œYour sister’s involved in so many clubs, not to mention so focused on studies, that I’m sure she doesn’t have time to loiter in the hallways between classes,” Mom suggested.
    Sunny nodded, still glaring at me.
    â€œYou go ahead and be like the Sweet brothers, and I’ll be sure to visit the three of you at whatever gas station you work at in ten years,” she said.
    â€œThe odds of all of us working at the same gas station in ten years is—”
    â€œEnough! Why do I even bother trying to eat anymore?” Dad suddenly shouted. He very carefully put his uneaten forkful of steak on the plate and stared at my mom. “Honey, are they too old to put up for adoption?”
    Mom laughed.
    â€œYou signed up for this job, too, mister,” she said.
    â€œNo, I didn’t! When you asked about having kids, I suggested getting a dog.”
    â€œDo you guys realize you’re talking out loud?” I asked them.

Chapter Nine
    T HE NEXT MORNING AT SCHOOL, Sunny suddenly started acting differently around us. She didn’t complain when Drew offered to carry her schoolbag to homeroom, and before second period she even showed up at my locker and asked if I’d bring her flute down to the band room for her. Before every period she found us and let us run errands for her: carrying her books, shutting her locker for her, sharpening pencils for her before class started . . . and it wasn’t until lunch that I realized what she was doing.
    â€œForget this,” I said, after me and Drew had raced down to the vending machine outside the cafeteria to buy her a bag of chips. “She’s not trying to be a decent sister, she’s just using us for slave labor.”
    â€œWhat kind of a person would do such a thing?” Drew asked, his face all twisted up as if he’d bitten into an apple with a worm in it. “That’s so deceptive.”
    We caught up to her in the hallway—and I made a big show of opening up the bag of chips right in front of her and eating a couple, then offering some to Drew, who chomped loudly right in front of her face.
    â€œWe’re eating your chips, what are you going to do about it?” Drew asked.
    â€œYou paid for them with your own money, so I’m totally fine with it,” she said, and headed into her class.
    â€œIt’s also kinda lame that she always has to have the last word on everything,” he added.
    I sighed.
    At lunch Drew and I were miserable. “I really want to get an ice cream, but I spent all my extra dough on those chips,” I whined.
    â€œI don’t want to