Page 15 of The Sun and Her Star

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” He shrugs and looks back at the book.

“What makes sense?”

“The part about the light. You’re always smiling, like a little ray of sunshine … in fact, that’s what I’m gonna call you. Sunshine.”

“Is thatmybest friend nickname?” I ask, excited at having a nickname.

“I guess, do you have another one?” he asks like it’s not a big deal.

“No, everyone calls me Apollo, except for Arti—ooh,” I gasp as I remember something. I reach for my backpack.

“What are you looking for?” Graham asks when I start rifling through it.

“A picture.”

“Of what?”

“One sec.” I feel around until my fingers find what I’m looking for. I pull out the picture I always carry with me. “Here, look.” I hand it over to him. “We were in London for our birthday. Daddy took just Arti and me. We had so much fun. He took us to a fancy hotel for tea. And then, we went to this big museum. That statue, it was right outside, and we begged him to let us climb on that lion. That’s the last picture we ever took.”

“I wish I had a picture of Ellie,” he says without looking up from the picture. My heart squeezes. I can’t imagine not having pictures of Artemis.

“Y’all look just alike. Well, except for your hair.” He looks up at me, and for the first time since we got here, he’s smiling at me, and it makes me feel good.

I giggle. “Sometimes we would play tricks on people, switch places. One day we did it to our language teacher, and she quit. Papa said he was going to make sure we couldn’t fool anyone again. And since I had the boy’s name, he said I’d have the boy’s haircut, too.” I laugh a little as I remember how Artemis and I had clung to each other like the world was ending on the drive to the salon.

I run my fingers through my hair.

“I still keep it short, even though sometimes, I miss having it long. But, it reminds me of Papa every time I look in the mirror.”

“What’s that?” he says, looking down at the hammock.

“What’s what?” I look down at my lap to see what he could be talking about.

“A mirror,” he says quietly.

I lift my head and look at him really closely. I’ve noticed how skinny he is. Now, I notice how thin his T-shirt is. The spot where his big toe rubs against his shoe is white and cracked compared to the rest of his shoes.

“Forget it,” he says quietly.

“No, I’m sorry. I was just trying how best to describe it …” I say a quick prayer for forgiveness for my lie. I think Daddy would forgive me for not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Well, I’ll bring one to show you next time, but it’s a special kind of glass, and when you look at it, you can see yourself.”

His eyes widen. “You have one? There’s something like that in that book.” He nods atThe HobbitI’m holding in my hands.

I start to tell him that most everyone does, but I think saying that would make him feel bad. I just nod. I can’t wait to see his reaction when I bring it.

He finally looks up from the picture, and his smile is still there.

“Thanks for showing me this.” He hands it back.

“I always have it with me,” I say, taking one last look at the picture of Arti and me on top of the big black lion.

“I guess the way you carry it around is the way I carry around that book. I used to read to her. So, every time I open it, it’s like she’s there … you know?”

“I know. I want to go back to London one day. Mama won’t take me. She thinks the whole world outside of our apartment is dangerous.”

“Sounds like my stepfather,” he says and shakes his head.

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