Ok...I'm updating again...whee! By the way, to edgy wedgy and all you other ppl who think Sunny should be a baby—I do, too! But I just don't want it to be all Michael Jackson-y, here. Sorry.
Desperately, Sunny rolled under the bed and stretched out, hoping that the piles of clutter would hide her. She looked above her. She saw the mattress. It seemed to be bursting out through the springs, about to crush her. She braced herself, but the mattress stayed put.
Sunny heard the door open. Feet approached her. The mattress sighed, heaving nearer, so close it nearly touched the tip of her nose. They had sat down!
"Are we alone?" She could just barely hear Violet's voice.
"Mmm..." The sound of Quigley's voice started that weird fluttering again. "Isadora and Klaus aren't going to come in off the porch anytime soon. And Sunny's probably still down there with her book..."
There was a long period of silence. Sunny tried to block the image entering her mind, but couldn't help it. What were they doing?
"Wow...that felt nice..." she heard Violet sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter! Sunny commanded herself. You can see their feet! They're sitting down!
Their legs were rubbing. The fluttering was replaced with nausea. "You're so perfect..." Quigley's voice intensified the sick feeling.
"I really, really like you..." breathed Violet.
"And I like you."
There was more silence. Sunny's vision swam and the whole scene blended into one distorted blob. The dust under the bed was making her eyes water and her nose itch.
There were a few sounds Sunny wanted to ignore. She could still see their rubbing feet, at least. She wanted them to go away. She really was feeling sick now. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on...on something pleasant. No matter how hard she tried, Quigley's face just kept popping up in her head, which reminded her of the scene going on directly above her.
"Well, we'd better go get Isadora and Klaus," Violet said reluctantly.
"Yeah."
She felt them walk away. Once their voices were downstairs, Sunny rolled out from under the bed. She hurled herself out the room, trying to make it to the bathroom in time—
It was too late. Sunny slipped and fell, tumbling down the stairs.
She fell until she reached the bottom. Voices were talking far away. She couldn't concentrate.
Sunny leaned over and threw up.
~~~~~~~~
"She just fell!"
"I hope she's okay..."
"Look, she's getting up!"
"Sunny, are you okay?" Sunny stared up. Violet was talking to her. She looked concerned. Sunny nodded.
"Uh...I feel really sick."
"No shit," said Isadora, who then blushed and covered her mouth. "I mean, um, you think?"
"How sick do you feel?"
"I...I think...I want to go home..."
Violet touched her forehead. "Sunny, I think you're sick. We should go to the doctor."
She shook her head. Bad move. That made everything tilt again. "I'm gonna be fine...I just want to...lay down..." She said everything between gasping breaths.
"Can you breathe?"
"Uh..." She felt like such an idiot. Barfing! In front of everybody! They didn't look disgusted, though, just concerned.
"I'm calling the doctor," said Violet tensely. "Okay?"
Two hours later, Sunny was nearly asleep in the backseat as they drove back from the doctor's office. She had gotten asthma, they said. Had she been near dust or been working out?
She had shrugged it off and said something about getting to a suspenseful part in her Nancy Drew book and hyperventilating. She was too humiliated.
"Are you asleep?" She heard Violet faintly ask her something. Sleep. Yeah.
"No," Sunny said groggily.
"You should sleep," said Quigley.
Like she had something to prove, Sunny shut her eyes and drifted off.