Sunny Sweet Is So Not Scary

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Authors: Jennifer Ann Mann
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sure, and then Sunny and I would be left with a ghost and Alice would be on her way home.
    I looked in the mirror to fix my hanger hat, and that’s when I noticed the shower curtain behind us. It was pulled across the bathtub.
    Anything could be in there.
    I turned to face the curtain. Everyone looked at me looking at it. And then they all turned to face the shower curtain.
    â€œDo it,” Alice whispered.
    I squinted my eyes and reached up and grabbed the shower curtain, pulling it open with a
CHHHHHHH
.
    Junchao screamed.
    I grabbed her mouth with both my hands and Alice grabbed me.
    Sunny shined the flashlight into the bathtub.
    It was empty.
    We slumped onto the bathroom floor, panting.
    â€œWhy are we in here?” I asked. I should have probably asked this before we traveled across the hall.
    â€œIt says that the first step in any ghost hunt is to use the bathroom,” Sunny said.
    â€œSunny!” I grumbled. Alice and Junchao shot me a warning with their eyes—I was being negative. “Great idea,” I quickly added, trying to save myself.
    â€œAlso,” Sunny said, “I read that ghosts like it if you look like them a little bit. So I thought we could useMommy’s baby powder to make ourselves look more like the ghost.”
    â€œThat is a good idea,” said Alice. “My grandmother says that ghosts are really vain.”
    â€œWhat does vain mean?” I asked.
    â€œIt means conceited or stuck-up,” Sunny said.
    â€œA stuck-up ghost?” I said. “You would think that you’d get over yourself by the time you’re dead. But I say let’s do it.”
    I took the flashlight from Sunny and found my mom’s baby powder in the bathroom cabinet and then dumped some over my head and all over my pajamas. Alice, Junchao, and Sunny did the same. We stood in the bathroom in a giant cloud of powder, coughing. Each of us was wearing our hanger hat filled with pencils and we were now covered in baby powder. Everything about us was white: our pajamas, our arms, our feet, our hair . . . The only thing not white, weirdly, were our eyes.
    â€œNow what?” I asked.
    â€œIt says,” Sunny read, “‘that if your ghost persists to stick around that it may have a reason to stay. The ghost might be trying to communicate with you.’”
    â€œYou mean, tell us something?” I asked. “But we already communicated when I tried to ask her, I mean it, to leave.”
    â€œThat was us telling it something. Not the ghost telling us something,” Alice pointed out.
    â€œExactly,” said Sunny. “But it warns that ‘you should never try to communicate with the ghost. It says that an inexperienced person might make an error that could open up a portal and cause the ghost to haunt the house forever.’”
    â€œForever,” Junchao moaned, covering her white face with her white hands.
    â€œThat’s a really long time,” Alice said, looking over at me.
    â€œIt can’t live here forever because we already live here, and . . . truthfully . . . I kind of like it here.”
    Sunny’s eyes opened in surprise. I’d never said this before. Or at least not when my mom didn’t ask me.
    Sunny and I always told our mom that we liked it here, but we only told her that because we knew she needed us to be okay with the divorce and the move and my dad having a girlfriend and all, and so we said we were. When really, both Sunny and I were secretly hoping that my mom would tell us that this whole divorce thing was off and that we were moving home—to be with my dad and to live in our actual home.
    But was I hoping that anymore? I kind of thought that I might not be. I looked around the bathroom. This place was home.
    â€œI like it here too,” Sunny said. “Did you know that New Jersey is the largest chemical-producing state in the whole country? And I love chemicals.” She smiled at me,

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