Preface
We’re called “Children of the Sun,” but really, in my opinion, we’re just extraordinary humans.Hmm… that sounds like I have a bit of an ego problem… I don’t…
Anyways…
Children of the Sun can live anywhere.
Children of the Sun are super strong. Like, really, really, strong.
Children of the Sun are super fast. We’re not as fast as light or anything like that, but we’re fast.
Children of the Sun are geniuses. Supposedly on Earth there are these things called compotters that can calculate or solve anything, but we’ve got those in our heads.
And, lastly, we live on the sun.
Obviously.
Chapter 1
Ize, my nine-year-old sister, stares at me, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “What did you do to your hair?”
“I dyed it,” I shrug.
“Mom’s going to kill you,” she states the obvious.
“I know.”
“It looks nice though,” she smiles slightly.
“Thanks,” I smile back, fingering a piece of my newly-black hair. It used to be a flaming red, just like Ize’s.
“Welcome.”
“I think I’m going to go to moon, if Mom lets me. Would you like to come with me?” I ask.
Ize shakes her head. “No, thanks. I’m having fun here.”
I nod. “Okay. See you later then.”
“’Kay,” she says over her shoulder after returning to playing with her dolls.
“What have you done to your hair?” my mom gasps when she sees me.
“I… dyed it?”
“Why in the world would you want to do that?” she stares at me, leaving the food on the freeze burner too long.
“Mom! Our dinner!” I point at it.
“Oh! Darn it!”
“I’m going to the moon, okay?”
“Siria!” she calls as I run out of the house.
“Where you going, Si?” my youngest sibling, Apollo asks.
“Just out for awhile. I’ll be back soon, promise,” I run out to my flyer, which I have recently painted a blood red with orange streaks going across the sides.
The trip to the moon is quick, and I am soon looking at all the creatures in the small stream there.
“Hey!” a voice says loudly, very nearby.
Oops. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own findings that I haven’t paid attention to the other Children of the Sun that could be here. My head jerks up and I find myself face to face with some weird creature with a semi-circular head and a see-through, dark tinted window-type thing. Who in space? I stare back at the thing for a moment before everything goes black.
Chapter 2
It’s the stinging cold that pulls me out of my deep slumber. It’s just so cold.
Opening my eyes, I look around. Everything is white, like the desserts I’d eat with my family. I wish I could see them…
I sit up, pulling against the frigid restraints that attempt to hold me in place. As soon as I’ve freed myself, two men rush in.
“Lay back down, honey,” the older man with a receding hairline, salt and pepper hair, and bright blue—blue? –eyes. And both of them are blue. How strange.
I stand, my muscles rigid.
“Please at least sit,” the younger man says. His eyes are brown, his hair… whitish-yellowish? What’s up with their hair and eyes? I had heard that Children of Earth had other hair and eye colors naturally, but I thought it was just a rumor. I suppose not. “Your eyes are so odd…” the young man approaches me. My eyes are odd? Well excuse me. “One’s black and the other gold… you don’t even have a pupil.”
Is that really odd?
The young man keeps walking towards me, and now he is a foot or so in front of me, reaching toward my face, presumably to see my eyes more closely.
“Don’t!” both I and the older man yell at the exact same time.
As soon as the young man touches my face, he yelps and jumps back, crying out in anguish. My face sears and burns from whe4re he touched me. It’s not at all strange, considering my temperature is most likely about 400 degrees higher than his. I suppose it depends on how long I’ve been on Earth; the longer the time, the lower the temperature.
“I need more people!” the older person says urgently.
And so more people flood in. I fight—I do—but I am soon plunged into a deep abyss of darkness.
***
It is colder. How is that even possible? I sit up and find myself in a small room. I place my hands flat against the stony floor, breathing deeply to get used to the painful and harsh coldness of everything.
The door opens and the young man enters. I notice immediately that his hand is wrapped in a weird, white cloth-type thing. Scrambling to my feet, I flatten myself against the wall nearest to me.
The man puts his hands up. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to ask you some questions. Okay?”
No. I’m not afraid of him hurting me. Not at all. I’m afraid of him somehow, someway, being able to find something out about me that he most definitely should not know.
“What’s your name?” he asks, standing three feet away from me.
I simply stare at him.
“Sorry, that’s rude of me. My name is Ciaran.”
“My name is Ize…” I answer slowly, deciding to borrow my sister’s name for the time that I am here.
“Your last name?”
“Last name?” I look at him, puzzled.
“Mine is Sen. So Ciaran Sen is my full name.”
“I do not have a last name then.”
He blinks, but then continues. “So where are you from?”
I don’t answer.
“I’m from Minneapolis, Minnesota.”
I don’t say anything, despite the fact I am completely, hopelessly, and utterly confused by all of this.
“Why were you on the moon?”
I am done with this game. It is so tiring and, honestly, boring. Frustrating, too. I bang my fist against the stones and they crumble around my feet.
Ciaran’s mouth drops open.
“Let me leave or I will kill everyone here,” I demand calmly.
A ton of people rush in. I am ready, and I dodge them easily. One man decides to approach me, and so I punch him. Not hard enough to kill him, but enough to surrender him unconscious. The others look at me, horrified, as the blood trickles from his nose.
“I will not harm anyone if you let me leave. But I will get out; I can promise you that,” I say.
No one speaks. No one moves.
“I will do it,” I say. “I could kill you all.”
“Try,” one man sneers.
Instantly I have the man in a head lock. Fortunately, the cold is not quite so bothersome anymore. Unfortunately for the man, because my skin is still a toasty 379 degrees, and he screams in his agony.
“You can leave!” another’s male voice booms. “Just let him go.”
Someone opens the door, and I release the man, who grabs his throat and makes odd, sobbing sounds. I step over him and dart out the door, running fast enough so no Children of Earth can simply hope to see me.
Once I am outside, I look around. The first thing I notice is the clothes, and how unlike mine they are. I am wearing a deep orange dress, the hem shredded and ending a few inches above my knees, the sleeves also shredded and just slightly covering my shoulders. There is also a thick brown belt with the sun on the buckle wrapped around my waist. Compared to the unusual blue pants and different colored tops everyone else is wearing, I am certainly out of place.
I slip into a clothing store, grab a ton of those odd blue pants to see what fits, and also a ton of shirts, and then I sprint out the door, wind whistling in my ears, as I pass a few bewildered people, wondering what the odd blur is. I continue to run, not stopping until I am completely out of sight.
I dress, rubbing the hem of the pale pink shirt between my fingers when I am done, marveling at the odd texture. I then slip into a navy green jacket, before heading back out, in search of food. I guess I’m not exactly hungry, though.
“Would you like a drink?” someone asks from behind me.
My inside voice tells me the man is a creep. “No thank you,” I reply, without turning around to face him.
“Aww, why not?”
At this I turn, glaring at him.
His eyes widen. “Sorry,” he apologizes before rushing off.
I spot a sandwich shop shortly after that. But I do not want to just keep stealing. I really don’t. Isn’t there some place for children with no place to go? Orphanages, I think they are called. But first I need a story. And I need to know everything about this… Earth.
“Excuse me, Sir?” I question.
“Yes?” the boy replies, somewhat impatiently.
“Where am I?”
“Earth,” he smirks.
Rude. “Well, I know that much. I figured that part out on my own. But where exactly are we?”
“Your eyes are very unnatural…” he muses. I will need to solve that problem too, I am guessing.
“Yes, I know. Thank you, I think. Now my question, please?”
“Oh. You’re in the United States. Washington D.C.”
“Thank you, sir,” I nod before rushing off.
Once out of sight, I run and run and run, until I come across a Child of Earth.
“Excuse me, Miss?” I resist tapping the girl’s shoulder.
She turns. “What do you want?”
Rude. More so than the boy from before. “I was just wondering where I am.”
“Little Rock, Arkansas. Duh. Where do you think we are; the sun?”
I can’t help myself: I chortle.
The girl looks at me as if I am crazy, which maybe I am, and then stalks off.
Once done with my laughing fit, I find a library. There I read every book, every magazine, and listen to every CD. I’ve learned all about the US, or America, the other countries, what celebrities have done recently, that I found completely ridiculous and, frankly, scary, and I’ve learned about fashion and kinds of cars and how to do origami.
Afterwards, I think up my story. A good story. And I find an orphanage.
First, though, I must prepare myself. My hair will soon grow back, revealing its bright orange-red flame color. My eyes are a problem, too. I suppose I can wear those glasses with the dark lenses and just say I am blind. That will work. I need to wait until my hair grows back, though. Everyone’s looking for a black-haired girl. Then I will go to the orphanage. I will not be able to eat until then, because I don’t want to steal, for it would draw attention to where I am-- In Little Rock, Arkansas, food has mysteriously disappeared, and police are on the search for a girl with black hair who might be the suspect. I realize that most likely will not happen, but will where I end up if it does? So all I have to do is wait for my hair to grow completely back.
Until then…
Chapter 3
It is so dark. These idiotic glasses are the cause of the darkness. I'm at the orphanage, right in front of it. I wear a black baseball cap, which conceals most of my hair; only a couple of inches of the unusual red color peaks out. The rest of my clothes are a complete tattered mess. Purposefully, I bump into a person who works at the orphanage with my long stick. And it really is a stick. I couldn't exactly afford anything more.
"Oh!" I gasp in mock shock. "I am so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” the woman says.
“You sound like my mother did,” I bite back a sob. She does sound creepily like my mother. I am aware of the wetness on my cheeks. I am crying? This was not really a part of my plan.
“Oh, honey,” the woman says in a soft voice.
“I’m sorry. I must go.”
Well. My plan is failing miserably.
“Where to?” the woman questions.
“Uh…” I stammer.
She looks me up and down, taking in my mess of clothe4s. “Who are you staying with?”
Okay. I can go with this. “Um, I uh, I… no one…”
“C’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you some nice clothes and food. When was the last time you ate?”
“A week… or so…” A month…or so…
“Oh, honey.” She says that a lot. “Want me to give you a hand?”
“No!” I cry. “Please… don’t…”
“Okay. There’s three stairs here now. Be careful.”
Once inside, the woman says, “I’m Caia.”
“I am Siria.”
“Pretty name,” Caia comments.
“Thank you.”
“Here’s some food now. Bowl of soup and some milk is what it is.”
“Thank you,” I say, truly grateful.
“It’s no trouble,” Caia replies softly.
I eat the soup, trying hard to get every bite; every drop.
“Would you like me to run a bath for you?”
“Please.”
“Okay, honey. You stay right here and I’ll get everything ready for you.”
“Thank you.”
I look around once Caia is gone, noting the beautifully carved banister, the old wooden floors, and the absence of people. Where is everybody? Just as I think this, a group of children, all boys around my age, walk in. As soon as they see me, they stop in their tracks.
“Who’s she?’ one says.
“How should I know?” a second shrugs.
“What’s she doing here?” the first asks.
“Stupid orphan,” the third boy mutters.
“I am blind, not deaf, you do realize?” I pipe up.
One boy, the first, gasps.
“What’s your name?” another inquires.
“Siria,” I answer. “And yours?”
“Parsley,” the tall boy with shaggy black hair and blue eyes offers.
“Is that a name of a herb?” I hide my smile.
“Stupid orphan,” Parsley mutters before stalking away.
The other two sit across from me at the long, wood table. I shift my attention towards them, although I try not to seem like I am actually watching them.
“My name is Joren,” the dark-skinned, dark-haired boy says after several long moments of uncomfortable silence.”
“And mine is Jody,” a petite boy with absolutely no hair on his head says in a surprisingly loud voice.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” I smile.
“Same,” Joren says.
“You talk weird,” Jody comments.
“What do you mean?” I look at him—sort of— perplexed.
“You don’t use contractions, or ‘huh’, or simply ‘what’, and you use a ton of big, fancy words,” Jody shrugs.
“Will you give examples of the fancy words that I have used?”
“Uh, pleasure…” Jody trails off.
“That is not a big fancy word,” I argue.
“Say ‘those aren’t big fancy words,” Jody commands.
“Those aren’t big fancy words.” The sentence sounds foreign and rather strange when it exits my mouth.
“Good job!” Jody claps.
“I see you’ve met the few boys your age here,” Caia beams down at me.
“Yes. They have…they’ve… taught me a lesson on how to speak properly.”
Jody sighs, clearly disappointed. “You still sound like some… I dunno… Oh! Say ‘dunno’!”
“Jody,” Caia says, a warning in her tone. “Please excuse him, Siria. Now, I have a bath for you, and some clean clothes.”
“Thank you,” I say, standing and walking up the stairs while running my hand along the banister to “guide me”, aware the whole time of Jody and Joren’s eyes on me.
The bath is hot, same as my body temperature—now around 119 degrees. My skin is still hot, obviously, though it will not kill anyone.
Afterwards, the questions come.
“What is your last name?” Caia asks.
“I… don’t have one.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Caia arcs an eyebrow.
“I suppose.”
“When were you… orphaned?”
“A month ago.”
“How?”
“Car wreck,” I say quietly. Tears well in my eyes. What if I never see them again? How could I, even? They might as well have died…
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Ah… April 19…”
Caia nods. “Okay. How long have you been blind?”
“Since I was three,” I lie.
“And would you like to tell me why you don’t want people touching you?”
“Not really.”
“That’s okay,” Caia smiles. “Now, I have a room ready for you.”
“A whole room?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I was not expecting that.
“Yes. There’s only ten people here right now. A lot of people are adopting these days.”
“Thank you so much.”“You’re welcome.”
And that’s how I have come to live at the Little Rock Orphanage.
~~~
Months have passed and today is my fifteenth birthday. The small party held is over, the cake eaten, the presents opened. I’m reading my Braille edition (yes, I’ve learned to read Braille) of Romeo and Juliet when Caia enters my room.“It’s me,” Caia announces.
“Hello.”
“Happy birthday, honey. Did you have a good day?”
I nod. “A great day.”
“I have some news…”
I close my book and set it next to me on the bed.
“A family wants to adopt you.”
My eyes glaze over, becoming glassy. “What?”
“A family wants to adopt you,” Caia repeats.
How is that even possible…? “Why?”
“They want to give you a home.”
“This is my home,” I say blandly.
“They want you to have parents.”
“Why do they care?!” I shout.
“Please don’t yell. Think it over, though, okay? It is your choice, and your choice alone; I won’t force you to be adopted. But please think about it.”
I don’t say anything as she leaves; I simply lie down and drift to sleep.
That night, I dream about how, when I am twenty, I am at college in the dorms during spring break, all alone because I have nowhere to go, no family to see. And that’s how I know that I would like to be adopted.
