Our Friend, Mr.Sun

Jade's POV

Inside, the house is just as neat as the outside. The walls are painted soft colors, with cheerful pictures of animals and flowers hanging in tidy rows. There's a big couch in the living room with colorful pillows, and a coffee table covered with magazines and a small bowl of candies.

Ms. Robin leads us into the playroom. "This is where you'll spend most of your time!" she says, her voice still warm.

The playroom is big, but it feels small compared to Superstar Daycare. There are shelves filled with toys, bins of blocks, and a rug with a giant map of a town printed on it. There's a small table in the corner with coloring books stacked on top. A few dolls sit propped up in another corner. There's even a wooden play kitchen.

"See? Lots of fun things to do here," Ms. Robin says, kneeling down to our level. "Why don't you take a look around?"

I look at Izzy. She's still clutching her bunny, her eyes darting from the toys to the door. Lana hasn't moved much since we came in, her hands flapping quietly now.

Mommy crouches down next to Lana, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll be back later, sweetheart," she says softly. "You're going to be okay."

Lana doesn't respond. She just stares at the rug, her movements stiff and jittery.

Mommy stands up and looks at me. "Take care of your sisters, Jade," she says with a small, hopeful smile. "I know you can do it."

I nod, even though I don't feel ready for this. I watch as Mommy gives us one last wave and walks out the door. My stomach sinks.

The house feels quieter now, even though Ms. Robin is still talking. "Why don't we start with a game?" she says, pulling out a box of puzzles. "Or maybe some coloring?"

Lana turns away. Izzy moves closer to me, her bunny pressed tightly to her chest.

I look at the toys and the puzzles and the bright room, but all I can think about is the daycare. The big, open spaces. The playground. The crafts. Mr. Sun.

This isn't the same.

Izzy's POV

I point at a coloring book.

"Coloring it is!" Ms. Robin says cheerfully.

I sit at the small table with the coloring book in front of me. Ms. Robin sets a box of crayons and markers in the center, her smile soft and encouraging. 

"Here you go," she says, pulling up a chair nearby. "Take your time, pick any page you like." 

I reach for a crayon, but my hand stops halfway. I want glitter glue. I love glitter glue. It makes everything shiny, and I want the pictures to sparkle. But the words to ask for it are stuck in my throat like they always are. 

Jade flips open her coloring book and starts working on a picture of a butterfly. Lana hasn't opened her book yet. She's just staring at it, her hands still flapping.

I pick a page with a big sun in the corner. It makes me think of him. Of Sun. I miss his bright, spinning rays, his loud laugh, and how he always said my name like it was the most important thing he'd ever heard. 

But this sun on the page isn't bright. It's just black lines on paper, dull and empty. I press my crayon to the page and start coloring, but it doesn't feel right. I glance at the shelf across the room, where the craft supplies are neatly lined up. I see the glitter glue there, sparkling in its little bottles.

"Izzy, what's wrong?" Jade asks softly, noticing I've stopped coloring. 

I shake my head. Everything.

Ms. Robin tilts her head. "Do you need help, Izzy?"

I point at the shelf. At the glitter glue. 

She looks at the shelf. Then back at me. "You need to talk, dear. I can't tell what you want if you're just pointing at it." She then turns to Lana. "Lana, dear, you're not bird. Stop flapping your hands, sweetie."

I stare at the table. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know what it feels like when the words are locked away, when they just won't come out. 

I glance at Jade. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn't. Her fingers grip her crayon tightly. I know that look—it's the same look she gets when she's scared, when she wants to say something but doesn't know how to make it come out right.

Lana, sitting on my other side, doesn't react to Ms. Robin's words. She just keeps flapping her hands, her eyes focused somewhere far away.

"It's okay, Izzy," Ms. Robin says, her voice soft again. "You can ask for what you need. I'm here to help." 

I bite my lip hard, my hands tightening around my bunny. I am asking. I did ask. Why doesn't she understand? 

Jade finally speaks. "She… she just wanted the glitter glue." 

Ms. Robin frowns a little, like she's confused. "Oh, is that what she was pointing at?" 

I don't look up. I don't nod.

"Well, Izzy, you have to use your words, sweetie. I can't help if I don't know what you need." 

Jade doesn't say anything else. She doesn't defend me. I know she wants to—her hands are shaking, and she's biting her lip—but she doesn't. 

Ms. Robin sighs and walks to the shelf, grabbing the glitter glue and setting it on the table. "Here you go," she says, her tone too cheery. 

I slowly grab the glitter glue. I fill in the sun with glitter glue, but it doesn't sparkle like it's supposed to. The glitter catches the light, sure, but it feels dull, lifeless. No matter how much I press the bottle or spread the glue, it doesn't look like Sun. It doesn't look like him.

I glance at Ms. Robin, who is tidying up a stack of books nearby. Her back is turned, but her words still echo in my head: "You're not a bird, sweetie." She doesn't understand.

This place doesn't understand.

It's not like Superstar Daycare.

There, Sun never told us to stop being ourselves. He never told Lana to stop flapping. He never told me I had to talk.

Here, everything feels wrong.

Jade stops coloring and puts down her crayon. "I'm done," she mutters. She doesn't sound angry, but she doesn't sound okay either.

"Already?" Ms. Robin asks, turning back to us. Her smile is still there, but it feels too much, like she's trying too hard. "Why don't you start another picture?"

Jade shakes her head. "No, thank you."