Sunny Sweet Is So Not Sorry

by Jennifer Ann Mann

  I walked to the door and turned around to say good-bye one more time. I knew that I didn’t have to tell her not to say anything about my leaving on my own; she just wouldn’t. “See you tomorrow,” I told her.

  Alice gave me the “rock on” sign. And I turned and left. As I started down the hall, it felt like my heart was smiling.

  * * *

  I walked to the linen closet and pulled out a washcloth and towel and also a pair of plain blue hospital pants and a blue hospital shirt, and then went into the bathroom. It was one thing to run around with elephants all over you in a hospital, but I wasn’t going to take the bus home dressed like this. After I changed, I stood and stared at myself in the mirror. When I was down in the basement peering into that paper-towel dispenser, I really thought for sure that I couldn’t possibly look worse than I did right then. I was wrong.

  I closed my eyes so I could unglue myself from the mirror, and then I walked out of the bathroom without looking back.

  I walked straight out of pediatrics and wandered up and down a few random hallways looking for an intersection with some signs telling me where I was and which way to go. The first sign I found was one pointing out the direction of the emergency room. I stopped and whispered a good-bye to Mrs. Song. One more hallway and I saw it, MAIN LOBBY with a comforting arrow.

  I wondered if Thelma, the lollipop lady, would remember me, but before I reached the lobby, I turned a corner and there was Sunny, standing down the hall, still wearing her white lab coat.

  She froze, staring at me with her big, spooky eyes. I walked slowly toward her, watching those eyes get bigger and bigger with every step I took. When I finally got about ten steps away, she screamed and fell onto her knobby little knees right there in the hallway. I guess I did look pretty scary, but strangely, I also felt a little bit cool. Maybe I would ask my mom if I could get a diamond stud in the top of my ear like Alice’s. I bet it would really stand out with my bald head and black eye.

  When Sunny got done screaming, she held her cheeks in her hands, and her face looked like the sad mask that my English teacher, Ms. Lee, had hanging in her classroom. I think it’s the tragedy one. “Like it?” I asked. “You did it.”

  But even before I was done saying it, I wished that I could suck it back in. I wanted to be a better me … a me that liked her little sister, even if she was the devil.

  And then Sunny did the weirdest thing. She started to cry, hard … like a real six-year-old and not like an evil genius six-year-old.

  Sunny Sweet was finally sorry.

  And now I didn’t want her to be!

  “Oh, Sunny,” I said, running over to her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I knelt down on the floor and wrapped my good arm around her little shoulders and whispered into her ear, “I kind of like it.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking up at me with the truest glow of love you ever saw.

  And in that moment, I realized that yes, I really did.

  “Girls,” came a voice … a mean voice.

  Sunny and I stared down the hallway. There, with his hands on his hips, stood the mean nurse!

  Run!

  Never in my life have I ever run from trouble. And I probably wouldn’t have run if it weren’t for Sunny, who whispered, “We need to separate. I’ll meet you at the bus stop,” and then spit, “Run!” directly into my face.

  She took off, and I took off right after her. When we got to the end of the hall, she hooked right and I flew left.

  I snapped my head around for one last look behind me at the same time Sunny turned to look back at me. She smiled that evil little smile of hers, and for the first time in my life, it sent a huge smile shooting across my own face. And then I spun around and ran.

  I made the first turn I could and jetted up a set of stairs and out into another hallway. I had no idea where I was, but I didn’t stop to find out. I hurried past a nurses’ station, struggling to catch my breath and look like I hadn’t just robbed a bank or something. When I got around the corner, I decided to pull my cast inside my shirt. That way, if the mean nurse asked if anyone had seen a kid with an orange cast, they would have to say no.

  I came upon a group of elevators and hit both the up and down buttons. I was going to take the first one that opened. The light pinged. I was going down.

  When the door opened, I poked my head out. I was on the first floor, but I didn’t know where. I stepped out and headed in the only direction that I could: left.

  I walked past office after office. There were people in them, but no one looked up from their computers as I walked by. When I passed by a dark office, I noticed a guy dumping garbage from a can into a big bin—a custodian.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m a little lost. I was supposed to meet my mom in front of the hospital and I took a wrong turn.” I tried to pull my cast under my shirt as close to my body as possible so he wouldn’t notice. But I also knew that in this place, no matter what you looked like, people treated you as if you were normal. I swear I could be carrying a basket of slithering snakes and no one would even blink!

  “You did take a wrong turn,” he said, not looking at my arm at all. “If you go down this hallway and take a right, all you have to do is follow the signs that say main lobby. It’s a bit of a walk.”

  “Is that the Shapiro main lobby?” I asked.

  “Yes, it is.” He smiled.

  “Thanks,” I said, giving him a salute, although I’m not sure why. He saluted back. And I took off.

  I followed his directions, my heart pounding with every bend in the hallway. The closer I got to the Shapiro main lobby, the harder it was to breathe. Spotting a bathroom, I dodged inside and closed the door, locking it behind me. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, willing my heart to chill out. I knew I had to keep going. Sunny would be waiting. But it felt so good to be safe. I glanced in the mirror but then looked away. I focused on the WASH YOUR HANDS sign and wondered where Sunny was. Maybe she was already out at the bus stop. I looked over at the door. I had to go back out there. I looked back in the mirror. There was no way to disguise myself. I was bald, with a black eye and one arm. The only option was to open that door and get out of the hospital as fast as I could. I stepped out and started down the hall at a gallop.

  After what felt like seventeen million hospital hallways, I found myself creeping into the Shapiro main lobby. My knees were actually knocking together. I was so close. I told myself that if I saw the mean nurse, I could just make a run for it, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be brave enough to run again. It was one thing with Sunny and me doing it together, but it was another thing doing it alone.

  I tiptoed into the lobby. I was now officially in no-man’s-land—out of the hall but not out of the door. There were two ladies sitting on the couches that Sunny had been climbing around on earlier, and an unfamiliar lady was at Thelma’s desk. The doors were about twenty steps away. I wanted to run so badly, but I knew that I would just attract attention if I did. I forced myself to walk slowly, counting my steps in my head as I went. “One, two, three, four, five …”

  I was dying to look around and see if the mean nurse was near, but I didn’t; I kept my attention on the glass doors.

  “Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

  The phone at the desk rang, and my legs just about collapsed underneath me.

  “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen-fifteen-six-seven-eight-nine-twenty!” And I was out. I pulled my cast out of my shirt and ran down the front walk. The bus stop was right where Sunny said it would be. I looked up and down the street, but she wasn’t there. It felt like someone kicked me right in my heart. Maybe he caught her?

  I stopped on the sidewalk and tried to decide what to do. Should I go back in? I turned to face the hospital’s front doors. Could I do this? Could I walk back in there? I had to find her. My heart pounded in my temples as I took my first slow steps back to the front doors. I had to get Sunny. I started to run.

  “Masha!”

  I turned a
round with the biggest smile ever. There was Sunny Sweet, standing behind a giant stone flowerpot by the bus stop. But the smile quickly fell from my face.

  “Sunny,” I whispered, “no!”

  I ran toward her. “No, no, no!”

  She stood as still as the stone flowerpot next to her … and she was bald!

  “Sunny, why?” I asked, dropping to my knees in front of her.

  She rubbed her bare little head and shrugged.

  I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight.

  Sisters

  “How did you do it?” I asked.

  We sat on the bench by the bus stop. According to Sunny’s bus app, our bus was number 68, and we needed to get off at Washington Street and Elm Avenue. The bus was due to arrive in three minutes, although it was nowhere in sight. An afternoon breeze swished through the pansies in the big stone pots. I shivered. It was actually a little chilly not having hair.

  “After I left you,” Sunny said, “I ran back down to the lab. I had seen the depilatory creams in the cabinet when I was searching for the ingredients to dissolve the glue on your head. They use them for surgery patients.”

  “What’s a depilatory?”

  “It’s usually calcium thioglycolate or potassium thioglycolate. They are chemicals that weaken the hair so it falls right out. It took three minutes.”

  “Why didn’t they use that stuff on me?” I asked.

  “You wouldn’t want to have mixed the chemicals from the depilatory cream with the chemicals I used to create the glue. It would have changed the chemicals.”

  “And what is so bad about that?”

  “Have you ever seen a firework explode?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That is an example of a chemical change,” she said. “It was better that they just shaved you.”

  I laughed. “You’re so weird, Sunny, but I’m glad you’re my sister.”

  She giggled back at me and threw her little bald head in my lap.

  People began to collect around us at the bus stop, and I saw their eyes land on Sunny and me for a second before they quickly looked away. I thought about Mrs. Song’s hat. I had left it up in pediatrics, but I didn’t need it anymore. A bald head or a big hat, what did it matter? I didn’t blend in, and I was okay with that.

  Finally the large, round headlights of the bus caught my eye.

  “Come on, Sunny.”

  We walked to the curb, straining to see what number it was. It was number 68, our bus. We were as good as home.

  The bus’s breaks squealed and then hissed as it came to a stop. The doors swung open with a screech. This was when it occurred to me … we didn’t have any money.

  Sunny moved to get in line for the bus. I held her back, moving us out of the line. “We don’t have money,” I whispered.

  She frowned. “Maybe if we tell the driver we’re only going a few stops he’ll let us on?”

  “Maybe,” I croaked, even though I didn’t believe it.

  The small crowd of people was slowly making its way onto the bus. I looked down at Sunny and then back at the hospital. I couldn’t stop myself from hopping up and down and doing a couple of silly twirls with my arms flapping about. We had to get on that bus but I didn’t know how, and it was like my arms and legs were itching to grab Sunny and leap in.

  “Come on,” said a voice from behind me.

  I turned. It was Michael Capezzi!

  He moved toward the back of the bus where the doors were opened to let people off and motioned for me and Sunny to follow. As the last person stepped off the bus, he climbed on. I grabbed Sunny’s elbow and we followed.

  He snaked around the pole and plopped into a seat. I pulled Sunny down into the two seats opposite him. My eyes darted around at the people sitting near us. Had any of them noticed? Would they say something? I was panting and sweating like I’d just run ten miles.

  “So, you guys are breaking out of the hospital too, huh?” Michael didn’t seem to be scared or nervous about sneaking onto the bus.

  “Technically it’s not breaking out because we weren’t locked in,” Sunny said.

  “Thanks for … helping us,” I said. “How did you know that we needed to get on the bus?”

  “You looked like you needed to get on.” He laughed. “Nice heads, by the way,” he added, smiling.

  I searched for something cool to say back but couldn’t think of anything except, “Same to you.”

  He smiled again. “You’re funny.”

  I liked his smile. His mouth was large and seemed to sit on his face in a wide, twitchy kind of way, like he was holding that smile back from breaking out all over his face. His eyes were a light brown with really black lashes. His stare made me feel a weird pressure in my chest, making it hard to take anything but tiny breaths that I knew wouldn’t keep me alive for long. But even the thought of not breathing didn’t stop me from being really happy that Michael had appeared out of nowhere and saved us.

  “So where are you guys going?” he asked.

  “We’re going home,” Sunny said. I was glad she answered because I definitely couldn’t breathe and talk at the same time. “What’s wrong with your head?” she asked.

  “Sunny,” I hissed.

  “No, that’s okay.” He shrugged. “I have a tumor. Oh wait,” he added, “technically I had a tumor. It’s gone now.”

  He and I laughed. Sunny didn’t. She didn’t get it. She just started in on tumors. She actually loved tumors. “Brain Tumor Week” on the Discovery Fit & Health channel was like Sunny’s “Shark Week.” She’d sit in front of the television for hours while some guy with the most boring voice ever droned on and on in Latin or something.

  Michael listened to Sunny blab about tumors, but he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I sat with the rumble of the motor of the bus underneath me and snuck looks back at him. I couldn’t tell if it was the heat of the motor or those eyes looking over at me, but little drops of sweat were trickling down the back of my hospital shirt. How could someone noticing you make you hot and itchy and happy? But it did.

  “Why did you break out of the hospital?” I asked, without having made any plans at all on opening my mouth. I had interrupted Sunny, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy googling stuff about brain tumors on her phone.

  He looked up and down at my bald head and hospital clothes and asked, “Why did you break out of the hospital?”

  We both laughed, and he used the moment to move over to the seats in front of ours, which made the saliva in my mouth instantly dry up.

  “I’m Michael,” he said, putting out his hand over the top of the seat back. His eyes were so close that I almost couldn’t see them.

  “I’m Masha,” I said, shaking his hand awkwardly. “And this is my little sister, Sunny.”

  “Hi, Masha. Hi, Sunny.”

  He got my name right. This was the second time today that someone got my name right.

  Sunny looked up from her phone. “You know what Caroline Alvinia told me?”

  Michael and I looked at each other and then back at Sunny, and shrugged.

  “She said that every time a boy talks to your older sister, you are supposed to get down on the ground and bite his ankles.”

  “Why?” he and I said together.

  “I don’t know, I’m just repeating what she told me,” said Sunny. “I thought maybe you guys would know.”

  “Washington Street and Elm Avenue,” said the computer-generated woman’s voice that called out all the stops.

  “We gotta go,” I said, jumping up and starting for the door.

  “Bye, Masha,” he said. “Hey—and Sunny, you can bite my ankles next time, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sunny said.

  Next time. I don’t know why it felt as if someone were tickling the inside of my chest with a feather when he said that, but it did.

  “Bye,” I whispered, looking back at him but only seeing him as a blob in the seat because of the whole feather
thing.

  I couldn’t get the goofy smile off my face for the entire eight-block walk home. It was still there when I caught sight of my mother pulling into our driveway. I guess Mom had decided to come home early, even though I had told her not to.

  Sunny and I crossed the street, stepping over the garbage by the curb. I spotted my cell phone lying in the gutter and picked it up. My mom climbed out of her car.

  When her eyes caught sight of Sunny and me, her jaw dropped. That’s a saying—your jaw dropping—but it’s a saying because it really happens; your jaw really can drop.

  Sunny ran to her and hugged her around her waist.

  I couldn’t hold back, so I ran over too, hugging her right over the top of Sunny. My mom smelled like clean carpets mixed with a hint of dry-erase marker. It smelled so good. “We’re fine, Mom. We really are.”

  I stood back from her, and Sunny joined me, holding on to my hand. I looked right into my mother’s eyes and smiled. “We’re fine.”

  “Okay, Masha,” she said. “Okay.” And her tone made me feel like she totally believed me and that everything was okay.

  My cell phone rang.

  My mom jumped and then looked down at me in surprise. My phone was ringing and it obviously wasn’t Sunny calling.

  “Oh,” I said. “Guess what happened today?”

  My mother stared at me.

  “I made a friend,” I said. “Her name is Alice.”

  Ancient Chinese Proverb: What You Cannot Avoid, Welcome; Another Ancient Chinese Proverb: Easier Said than Done

  “Let me walk you into school,” my mom said.

  “No, Mom, please. I can do it,” I repeated for the tenth time. This was going to be hard enough without my mother watching.

  “Okay.” She sighed.

  My mom felt so guilty over my head being shaved that she agreed to let me keep the cast. I had explained that it would be easier for me to go back to school bald if I could do it with my orange cast on. She even called the hospital, getting me completely off the hook. And then she called school and told them that I’d had a little “bike accident.” All this had made me pretty happy as I got into bed last night, but it wasn’t helping me this morning. The three of us sat in the parking lot watching streams of buses and cars and people and kids all heading toward the school … all heading toward my bald head. I knew I couldn’t hide forever, but I also couldn’t bring myself to give up trying just yet.