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Posted February 15, 2013
"What happened?" Amara asked. I groaned in response, my mouth throbbing painfully. "Your sister had an accident, go back to sleep, honey. She'll be all right," Papa replied. Amara frowned but made her way back up to her room. "Oww," I murmured, sitting up as Mammie walked back into the room. She consulted to Papa about something, but I didn't hear through the immense mouth pain. Tiredly, I stumbled over to the mirror at the other end of the couch. My cheek was bruised and swelling, and I opened my mouth to look at the wound. My gums looked swollen, and were bloodstained. "Hey, Mammie! I look like I'm six again!" I laughed, rubbing my bruised cheek. Mammie looked sadly at me, shaking her head again. "Shock," I heard her murmer ruefully. My mom made me change into my silky burnt orange and white dotted pjs and loaded me into the car, where I curled up in the backseat and cradled the ice pack. Soon I was lead into the dentist office where I laid in an ugly, uncomfortable booger green seat. The dentist's name was Dr. Ricki, and he tried explaining what he was going to do, but all I registered was "tooth...pushed up....inside." After an hour full of severel novocain shots, a smelly gas mask, and lots of aching, I left. The drugs did a number on my tired, wounded body, and I was out before we pulled out of the parking lot. I stretched open my eyes the next morning, and blinked back the early morning light. I was in my room, I realized, seeing the familiar soft green walls and white furniture edged in gold paint. "Mmthuhh," I muttered, then noticed something strange in my mouth. It felt like a hard shell over the top of my mouth. "Mammie!" I shrieked, getting out of bed and drowsily heading for the stairs. "Good morning, sweetie!" Mammie called, meeting me halfway down. She carefully helped me onto the couch. "Whath ith thith thuff in my mouff?" I asked, prodding the strange shell. "It's like a cast for your teeth. So they heal," Mammie explained gently. "Dr. Ricky put your one tooth back in and pulled the other from your gum." I cringed at the thought of that, and changed the subject. "Tho, whath for breakfath," I asked, hating the way I talked. "I made your favorite cinnamon oatmeal," Mammie replied brightly. I stood up, ready to run for it, but Mammie held something out. "After you take your medicine," she added. I groaned and popped open the cap. "I hate medithin," I muttered rebelliously, but Mammie shot me a look, and I swallowed one of the white pills. After breakfast, I convinced Mammie and Papa to let me do my chores. It sounds strange saying it, but I love my chores. So I laced up my boots and headed outside. Sometime during breakfast, I'd discovered a way to talk that made me sound almost normal.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.