Page 1 of The Sun
1
Sunny
August 1989
The day Elias Black came to my house was the first day it hadn’t rained in over a month. Sometimes I thought that must have been an omen.
The springs in the old Victorian couch groaned when I hopped onto my knees to lean over its curved back. The window fogged from my breath as I pressed my face and palms to the glass when Daddy’s white pickup pulled into the drive.
Momma’s high heels tap, tap, tapped through the kitchen and then the dining room, finally coming to a halt behind me.
I waited for her to fuss at me for getting smudges all over her clean windows, but she didn’t scold me that day. I guessed her nerves had gotten the better of her.
Momma said she wanted a house full of kids, but there was only me. After six years of trying to give me a little brother or sister, Daddy and she finally agreed they would serve those less fortunate by fostering children in need, and that was why Elias Black sat in the passenger seat of Daddy’s truck. He was a child in need.
“He’s here, Sunny.” Momma sounded hopeful and a little scared.
My heart pounded when Daddy rounded his car and opened the passenger door. The night before I’d been so excited, I’d barely slept. The anticipation had mounted. My imagination ran wild with all the things Elias and I would do: build pillow forts and tell each other ghost stories, even though they’d scare me half to death.
I’d even conceded to let his GI Joe marry my Prom Queen Barbie. Since my friend Daisy Fulmer’s brother Bobby always wanted her Barbie to marry his GI Joe, it stood to reason Elias would want one of the ones Momma stocked in his room to marry mine.
Ever since I found out Elias was coming to live with us, I’d imagined a boy hopping out of Daddy’s truck, smiling and running straight to the front door. So it all seemed rather anticlimactic when a frowning, gangly little boy climbed out.
His dirty jeans were too short for his long legs. The He-man shirt he wore must have been a size too small, and his tangled, brown hair looked like rats had nested in it. He adjusted a tattered, red backpack on his shoulder, then walked alongside my father, his gaze straying to me in the window.
Taking a breath, I smiled and waved. My heart crumpled right along with all my hopes and dreams of having someone to play with when Elias rolled his eyes. Then I sank onto the couch with a sigh.
Momma ruffled my hair. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“He looks mean.”
“Oh…” she knelt beside the couch, her pretty, blue dress pooling around her knees. Tilting her head to the side, she draped my braid over my shoulder. “Honey, he’s been through a lot, and he’s coming to a strange house with people he’s never met. I’m sure he’s just scared.”
“He looks like he smells.”
Her eyes set on mine with a sympathetic plea. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
At the tender age of seven, I already found that life lesson hard to adhere to.
That was her favorite saying. One I’d heard at least a thousand times in my short life. With a sigh, she pushed to her feet, then smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress.
“I don’t want to play with him,” I lied.
Living in a rural, beach town in Alabama without another kid for two miles made me desperate for a playmate, but still, it was easier to pretend I didn’t need him to like me. Even as children, I believed humans were programmed to save themselves from embarrassment and feelings of inadequacy, and it was obvious to me that Elias would not want to play with me.
“Enough!” Momma headed toward the door. “Be sweet to that poor boy, Sunny Ray.”
I scowled. I hated when she used both my names.
One, it sounded dumb. Two, it told me she meantor else.
Crossing my arms with a determined huff, I decided, at that moment, when I grew up, I would change my name.
The unoiled hinges to the wooden front door creaked, and I peeked around the living room doorway.
Even though Momma made a fuss over Elias when Daddy nudged him over the threshold, he wouldn’t look up.
I was just about to walk away when she grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me into the entranceway. “Elias,” she said. “This is our daughter, Sunny.”
