The car door swung open in a fashion that practically screamed 'time for torture!' as Sunny left the house on that bleak September morning.
"Mom, do I really have to come with you? Fairs are for little kids and frankly, the only childish symbol in this car is the spot on the ceiling." She looked up at the carpeted roof of the car as she ducked in, where a dark circle remained from when she had squashed a banana during a tantrum 12 years ago. Her mom turned around and gave her an 'I don't want to hear another word from you' look. Sunny sighed, tucking her short brown hair behind her ear and searching for her iPod in her purse.
Why can't we ever go on cool vacations, where we can go on explorations and stuff? She thought.
Oh, you will.

"Gah!" she exclaimed. "What was that?" Her mom spun around quickly.

"What was what?" she proclaimed.

"That voice!" She said, panicked.

"There wasn't any voice, dear. That MP3 player of yours is muddling your brain!" Her mom says sternly, and Sunny rolled her eyes. Her mom was always trying to get her to stop listening to 'obscure and unclean' rock bands, but she wouldn't listen, the music was her escape.

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