Sunny Sweet is So Dead Meat

by Jennifer Ann Mann

  “We have you now!” shouted Batman.

  “Hey,” growled the janitor, “what are you two doing in here?” He didn’t react to the costumes at all. He obviously knew exactly who these two masked boys were.

  QUACK … QUACK, QUACK—the fourth and final ring was muffled by the squawk of a radio, followed by a booming woman’s voice, “Jim, Jim. Where are you?”

  “Gosh darn it,” the janitor said. He picked up his radio. “What is it?”

  I stayed crouched behind the display case while the Dark Knight and Boy Wonder remained in their superhero stance, challenging the janitor who was no longer paying any attention to them.

  “We need the storeroom door opened up in the kitchen, and I don’t have the key,” crackled a voice from the radio.

  “I’ll be down in a second,” sighed the janitor. “And you don’t have to shout into that thing. I keep telling you that over and over again,” he muttered. “You boys stop the fooling around and get back downstairs,” he said.

  “We don’t listen to bad guys,” said Batman.

  “Yeah, we don’t listen to bad guys,” repeated Robin.

  I peeked through the shelving and watched the janitor shaking his head while he pushed his cart out of the room. There was moment of silence, and then we heard the door shut with a soft poof.

  Batman and Robin let out one solid scream and high-fived each other. Robin smiled over at me, and I noticed he was missing one of his front teeth. “That was so fun. What are we gonna do next?”

  These two were ready for another adventure while I was still shaking from almost getting caught. Back at my old school, I wasn’t scared of the janitors. Joe and Sid were our friends, and they loved Sunny and me. They let us use the giant broom to help clean the school. The broom took up the entire hallway. Mostly Sunny and I just used it to play tag. It was so fun to race down the hall after each other. You couldn’t get away from it because it took up every inch of the hallway from wall to wall.

  There was a row of old paint cans storing stuff like rags and sponges and more paintbrushes. I plucked one filled with rags from the shelf and dumped out the rags. The color on the can was blue, not red—but who cares, it was just a prop. I wanted to be gone from here.

  QUACK … QUACK, QUACK, QUACK.

  The two boys leaped in the air.

  QUACK … QUACK, QUACK, QUACK.

  I looked down at my phone. Sunny.

  I clicked my phone on.

  “Stay in your tree,” I spit and then switched it off.

  Batman and Robin bounced up into my face. “Who’s in a tree? Who’s in a tree? Who’s in a tree?”

  “I have to go,” I said.

  They leaped after me, yipping and yapping like two excited puppies, begging me not to leave them.

  “Okay, okay, you can come with me. Just be quiet,” I told them. I didn’t need the janitor coming back and asking about my “normal” props.

  They immediately obeyed and were silent, although Robin kept bouncing up and down. Batman pulled something out of his pocket. “Kneel down,” he said.

  I thought, I am about to be knighted.

  He leaned over and drew a big P on my T-shirt. Great, like I needed one more thing to add to the dust and the paint and the cast and my bald head.

  “You’re Paintgirl now,” he said, his breath smelling a little like Cheez Doodles. But I have to admit, the way they stared so seriously out of their masks at me made my heart glow. I am Paintgirl.

  “Do you want me to draw a mask on your face with my marker?” Batman asked.

  “No.” I giggled. “The P is good.”

  Maybe this whole weird behavior thing was coming a little too easily to me.

  It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Paintgirl

  We walked back down the staircase and over the bridge. “Is there a back door that I can get out of? You know, so that the janitor doesn’t get me.”

  Batman and Robin looked at each other.

  “Maybe the one by the gym?” suggested Robin, sticking his finger in the hole where his tooth once was.

  “No, the science fair’s in the gym,” I said. Even with my “normal” props, I wasn’t in the mood to pass through a crowd.

  “I know,” said Batman. “How about the back door that leads to the soccer field?” The words had no sooner left his mouth than his cape was flapping behind him as he raced away from us.

  “He thinks that because he’s Batman he knows everything,” Robin grumbled.

  I nodded. I also had a know-it-all in my life. And then the two of us took off after the flapping black cape.

  As Batman approached the end of the hall he slowed and started tiptoeing. Robin and I slowed and started tiptoeing too. Batman stopped and peeked around the corner to check it out. And then he snapped his head back, throwing himself up against the hallway wall. Robin and I smashed up against the wall too, and my paint can whacked into the cement. The two of them narrowed their eyes at the racket I made. I mouthed, “I’m sorry.” But then Batman giggled and danced around the corner. He had just been fooling with us. Robin and I exchanged an annoyed look and then followed him.

  He headed toward a door at the end of the hallway. We were about twenty feet behind him. As he ran past an open office door, we heard someone shout, “What are you doing out there, Stanley?”

  Robin and I froze.

  Batman skipped back to the office door and jumped around in place. “Hi, Mrs. Hull. I’m running around,” he answered honestly.

  “Well, stop before you get hurt,” said the voice. “You should be in the gym at the fair with your father.”

  “I don’t have a father. He got killed by bad guys,” Batman said.

  “Yes, I remember now. Well, Batman, you still need to go back to the gym. I’m sure you’re not supposed to be running around by yourself.”

  Batman looked down the hall at us with a frown, not knowing what to do.

  I motioned for him to come back toward us.

  “Okay,” he said to the voice, walking away.

  And then the three of us tiptoed farther down the hallway and squished into a doorway together.

  “Now what do we do?” asked Robin.

  “Do you know another way out?” I asked Batman.

  He rolled his eyes up into his mask and thought. “The only other way is back past the science fair.”

  All three of us slumped a bit against the door.

  “I have an idea,” said Batman. “We’ll go out past that one gym door by the water fountains and the trophy cases. That door is far away from the stage. Maybe there won’t be so many people by it. We can run and slide by the doors on our knees so nobody sees us. I’ll go first, and then you and Paintgirl can go.”

  “Why can’t I go first?” asked Robin. “Why do you get to go first?”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, standing up a little straighter. “Mrs. Hull doesn’t know me. I can walk right out of here and start for home this very minute.” I looked down the hall past Mrs. Hull’s office at the double doors leading out to the soccer field, stunned by this great idea.

  “But those aren’t your paintbrushes, and that isn’t your paint can either,” said Batman. “And we’ll tell Mrs. Hull on you if you don’t keep playing.”

  Wow. Robin was right, Batman was a know-it-all.

  “Um,” I said. “Okay, let’s do the sliding thing.”

  We peeked out from the doorway and looked both ways, and then Batman led us toward the water fountains and the trophy case. From the sound of the crowd, I could tell we were getting closer to the science fair. I swung my paint can in one hand and held onto my brushes with my cast hand. All I cared about was hiding from the janitor. Now that I looked like an artist, real people could see me because I was officially normal now, although I was still on some strange secret mission with a couple of masked crusaders.

  My phone buzzed with a text. It was Sunny again.

  Where are you?

  Coming, I texted back. And then I
smiled. Wait until she saw me … normal, calm, artist me.

  The crowd noises were getting louder. I held the paintbrushes out in front of me and swung the can of paint in a bigger arc. My stomach gave a nervous gurgle. Be normal, I commanded.

  Batman approached the doors and looked in. And then he backed up two feet and threw his fist in the air. “I am the night!” he proclaimed, hopping twice and sliding down the hall past the open gym doors. Once on the other side, he stood up, adjusted his cape, and brushed the hallway dust from his jeans.

  “Yeah!” whispered Robin.

  Batman peeked into the gym doorway again and then he waved to his partner. Robin took off running and slid across the doorway. There was not a single break in the murmuring of the crowd. No one noticed either masked munchkin sliding by the open door. But why would they? They were all busy at the fair, plus it seemed like all the people in this school knew Batman and Robin.

  The two of them motioned me on. I rolled my eyes at them. They motioned bigger. I can’t believe I allowed myself to be roped into this. Oh well. Am I Paintgirl or not? I decided I was.

  I held my paint can up in the air and banged my paintbrushes on it three times. This seemed like a good Paintgirl gesture. Then I took a running start and bent my knees to slide down the hall past the open doors to the gym. My heart gave a little jump with excitement. This was kind of fun.

  Just as I crouched into my slide, I caught sight of a familiar head right inside the fair doors, or rather a familiar “white” head. … It was the boy with the perfect signature on my cast, Michael Capezzi. And he still wore the cast on his head from the surgery to take out a brain tumor.

  The last thing I wanted was Michael Capezzi seeing me covered in red splotches! I tried to stop midslide, but my sneaker caught on the floor and I tumbled, paint-can-over-head and head-over-paint-can. My paintbrushes went flying. I landed at the feet of the stunned superheroes and crawled like a crazy crab down the hall and away from the doors of the gym. I was in such a hurry to get out of sight that I didn’t watch where I was scuttling and ended up crashing into two legs. I heard the jingling of keys and knew what I’d done.

  The janitor looked down at me. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he took in the red splotches and pottery dust. I couldn’t help imagining all the wrong things he was imagining I’d done, and I squirmed on the floor.

  “What’s going on here?” he boomed.

  “She’s Paintgirl,” said Batman.

  “I’m a good guy,” I choked as I scrambled to gather my paintbrushes and can.

  “Boys.” His voice was soft and kind. “Your dad has been looking for you two. You better head back into the gymnasium now.”

  “But …,” Batman started, looking up at me for help.

  “And you,” he muttered. “Are you part of the fair?”

  “Um, no,” I said.

  “Then you don’t belong here,” he said, glaring down at me.

  “Okay,” I said, getting off the floor.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “My sister’s waiting for me out by the parking lot,” I said. I didn’t mention that she was six years old and up in a tree.

  “Get going, then,” he said. And then to himself he muttered, “I don’t have time for this today.”

  I started down the hall toward the door. I could feel his eyes watching to make sure I actually left the school. I kept my head down and walked while I listened to the loud complaints of my fellow superheroes trying to convince the janitor to let them follow me. The janitor’s words you don’t belong here rang in my head like an unanswered phone. It was like Sunny’s ketchup had turned me into a bad kid. And maybe the dust helped, and the giant black P on my chest … But still … it was all just stuff on me, not stuff in me.

  I pushed open the door of the school and was hit with a cool breeze of outside air. It felt so good to be back out. It only took me two turns around the brick building to put me back under Sunny Sweet’s tree.

  “Masha!”

  Sunny’s eyes were wide with fear. She looked totally freaked out. For one split second I felt sorry for her up there. I guess I had been in the school a long time. But then I remembered how mean the janitor had just been to me and that Michael Capezzi had almost seen me sprawled out in a hallway splattered with red junk and pottery dust! I put a fake smile on my face while I hugged my paint can and paintbrushes to my chest. We were a simple bus ride away from home, and I intended to act normal the entire way.

  “Why are you still up in that tree, sister dear?” I asked pleasantly.

  “You told me to stay here,” she said.

  “Come down from there before you get hurt,” I commanded in a voice dripping with love and concern.

  “Masha?” Sunny’s eyes got even wider.

  The Simple Bus Ride

  “Are you okay, Masha?” Sunny asked, clomping alongside me with her one rain boot.

  “Absolutely, sister dearest,” I drawled. “I’m just happy to be heading home.”

  “Why are you carrying that can of paint and those brushes?”

  A man and a lady walked toward us as we made our way to the bus stop. Mom and I had looked up the bus map last night, and the bus stop was only three blocks away. The lady carried a baby strapped to her chest. The baby faced us, and its arms and legs stuck out into the air like it was skydiving off its mom. I saw the man and lady take one look at me, then turn and look at each other, and then look back at me.

  “I’m an artist,” I said cheerily, as Sunny and I reached them.

  They both gave me these big phony smiles, and the man reached up and held the lady’s arm as Sunny and I walked past them.

  “You’re an artist?” asked Sunny, hopping in front of me.

  I walked around her and continued to head toward the bus stop while swinging my paint can a little more.

  “That’s so cool, Masha! Can I be one too?” she asked.

  I fought the urge to bop her in the head with my can. She wasn’t supposed to believe me! She was supposed to be in awe of how I turned things around on her.

  “I’m not really an artist,” I said.

  “But you just said …”

  “Sunny, forget it,” I snapped. “Anyway, aren’t you even a little bit upset that we’re going home and not staying for the fair?” I asked.

  “Um,” she said, adjusting the rain hat on her head. “My hypothesis wasn’t connected to a particular environment.”

  “What?” I said. “Never mind, let’s just get to the bus, Sunny.” All I wanted right now was to be home, home, home.

  “What’s that P for on your shirt?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “And take off that dumb hat, will you?”

  She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and pulled the hat down firmly over her ears. I just shook my head and kept walking.

  We got to the bus stop without passing anybody else. The bench was empty except for someone’s leftover McDonald’s lunch sitting in the middle. There was also a horrible pile of dog poop next to the bus stop sign. There were flies everywhere.

  We stood off to the side, away from the flies. I stared down the road, searching for a sight of the bus. Sunny stared at the flies.

  “They’re laying eggs in the dog poop.”

  “Don’t tell me those things,” I said.

  “Imagine being born in dog poop,” she added.

  “Sunny, stop! Where is the bus?” I checked the bus app on my phone.

  “They might lay them in the hamburger too,” Sunny said. “I’d rather be born in a half-eaten hamburger. What about you?”

  The app said bus number 55, our bus, would be here in eleven minutes. It was going to be a long eleven minutes.

  “Masha,” Sunny said, grabbing my arm. “Give me your paint can and one of your brushes. I want to grab some of the dog poop to take home.”

  “What? No stinkin’ way!” I said, holding it out of her reach.

  “Please, please, please,
please,” she said, jumping for the can. “I wanna see the flies hatch.”

  I spotted the bus coming. That was not eleven minutes, thank goodness!

  We fought over the can while the bus pulled up and opened its doors. I jumped on. Sunny didn’t.

  “Get on this bus,” I said.

  “No.” She stomped her rain-booted foot.

  “This isn’t playtime,” the bus driver muttered, looking at me and then raising his eyebrows.

  I growled at my sister. “You cannot bring dog poop onto the bus.”

  “Okay, off the bus,” the driver said.

  I turned to him. “Wait one second; she’s going to get on.”

  The bus driver sighed, wiping his face with his hands. Then he glanced down at Sunny. “Are you two alone?”

  I thought it best to ignore that question. I could tell he just wanted to drive his bus.

  “Sunny, get on the …” I could see that she had me, mostly because she could see that she had me. I wanted her to get on the bus, and she wanted the fly eggs. I held out the can. “The hamburger, not the dog poop! And be careful not to step on anything with your sock.”

  She cracked a smile bigger than a circus clown and grabbed the can and ran to the bench. The bus driver tried to close the doors, but I stood in between them.

  “Please, we’re getting on,” I begged.

  Sunny leaped into me and onto the bus. The driver slammed the doors shut. We walked toward the back through a sea of staring eyes. Of course Sunny didn’t notice a thing. She was too busy grinning at her fly eggs.

  We sat about two-thirds from the back of the bus in the first two empty seats I found together. I hunched down and half closed my eyes, trying to pretend that no one was looking at us. Be normal … Wasn’t that what Alice said? Okay … normal. I opened my eyes and sat up straight in my seat, trying to look like a model bus rider. It was hard with Sunny sitting next to me poking at her half-eaten hamburger with the end of one of my paintbrushes.

  “What’s in the can?” asked a little kid sitting in front of us. “Is it alive?”