Page 2 of The Sun
He didn’t lift his head, but he peered up just enough that I could see his eyes. They were speckled with green and brown and blue, like when God made him he wasn’t exactly sure what color eyes a boy named Elias Black should have, so he dipped his paintbrush in a few colors and swirled them all together.
Had God asked me, I would have told him to make that boy’s eyes black like his name to match the storm cloud that seemed to live on his face.
That evening,dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least.
Elias picked at his food, mostly shoving his peas around on the plate. Had I done that, I would have gotten in trouble. Playing with one’s food was not proper, Southern etiquette, but Momma didn’t breathe a word to Elias.
I glared at him, guessing from his looks and the way he had both elbows on the table that he’d never taken a manners class in his life.
When Momma asked if he’d prefer something else, my mouth dropped open. “I don’t want to eat peas!” I whined, beginning to shove the little green orbs around on my plate.
“Sunny!” Momma shook her head and gave me herdon’t-startglare as she pushed back her chair. That menacing expression was followed by, “Eat your dinner.”
She leaned over Elias’ shoulder. “Would you like me to fix you a sandwich?” Her tone was sugary-sweet, and it made me dislike him, even though Pastor Fulmer said we should like everyone.
Elias shrugged one shoulder.
Momma crossed the kitchen with a smile, humming while she made Elias a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I banged my elbows onto the table, then rested my chin in my hands while staring at the boy who refused to make eye contact with anyone. He wasn’t eventryingto do anything, but he sure was getting on my nerves.
When a plate was placed in front of him—a sandwich with the crust cut off likeIate them—he subtly glanced at me and smirked.
That’s when I knew, Elias Black was the kind of boy that would get sent to the principal’s office, the type that would pull girls’ pigtails and stick toads in their lunchboxes.
It was then that I decided, sometimes it was best to judge a book by its cover, no matter what my momma said.
After dinner,Daddy showed Elias to the spare room now serving as his, which left me in the kitchen to help Momma clean up. I finished sweeping and dumped the crumbs into the trashcan. When I spun around, Momma studied me with her hands dug into her hips.
“What’s the matter?” Concern marred her soft eyes.
A twinge of guilt tugged at my heart. “I don’t like him.” I knew better than to say mean things. I just couldn’t stop myself. “How long is he going to be here?”
Momma’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not like my sweet girl. Come here.” She held out her arms, and I sulked toward her, dragging the broom alongside me. The comforting, warm scent of fabric softener surrounded me when I rested my forehead against her shoulder. “What’s really the matter with you?” she asked. “Huh?”
“Is he staying forever?”
“No, baby. Not forever.”
I chewed at my lip, then huffed before going limp in her arms. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Sure, he does.”
I shook my head, hiding my face deeper in her blouse when I thought of the nasty way he had rolled his eyes.
“You’ve gotta give him some time. Be your sweet self, and he’ll like you just fine. As different as this is for you, it’s much more so for him. Remember the golden rule: Do unto others…” She kissed my cheek, and I stepped back to place the broom in the closet, then I headed toward the foyer.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the shower running in the guest bathroom—now his bathroom, complete with a GI Joe shower curtain. While I glared at the closed door on the second floor, an unsettled feeling washed over me.
There was something invasive about having a stranger in our house, using our soap and washcloths. And to make matters worse, this stranger was here for an undetermined amount of time.
Elias had beenwith us for two weeks before he ever spoke to me, and to be honest, that first time wasn’t anything monumental.
He bumped into me in the hallway at school and mumbled, “Sorry.”
As much as I hated to admit it, there was still a tiny piece of me that wished he liked me.
The weeks droned on, yet I knew nothing more about Elias Black than what I’d learned through my mother and father’s discussions in their room—things I wasn’t meant to hear.
