Page 7 of The Sun and Her Star

“No, you wouldn’t. We’re a team. You’re a superhero, and I’m your cape.” She spreads her arms and starts making whooshing sounds as she sways on my back like she’s flapping in the wind.

I try to ignore her and keep my focus on getting us out there.

Sweat trickles down my forehead and into my eyes. And then my stomach grumbles. The trees’ shadows are getting longer, and I know we need to hurry.

“Now that we’re best friends, we need nicknames,” she proposes, propping her chin on my shoulder so that we’re almost cheek to cheek.

I shake her chin off. She just puts it right back.

“You’re a girl. And ten. I’m not going to be your best friend,” I tell her.

“I’m eleven. And it’s too late, you already are,” she says and squeezes my neck tightly.

I step out into the clearing that leads to the ledge. As soon as we’re on the gravelly ground, I pry her arms loose. Her legs only hug my waist tighter, and she doesn’t budge.

“Get down. I really gotta go.”

“Only if you promise to be my best friend,” she squeals.

“Okay, I promise,” I say quickly.

“I knew you’d say yes!” she chirps and then hops down.

I squint up to check the sun. The sun has started falling a little. I’m gonna be late.

“Get your stuff and let’s go,” I tell her impatiently.

She sprints over to a pair of bright yellow flip-flops and slips them on. I’m so distracted by the big white flower attached to the top of each shoe that it takes me a minute to realize she’s not holding anything else.

“Where are your clothes? And those shoes aren’t fit for walking through the woods. Did you walk up here in these?” I snap impatiently.

Girls are so annoying.

She looks up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“I don’t have any clothes. I came in my swim suit. I didn’t know about the snakes,” she says miserably. I can’t see her eyes, but I can see that bottom lip trembling.

“Oh, God. Please don’t cry.” I rush toward her, ready to clamp a hand over her mouth if she starts caterwauling.

She covers her face with her hands and sniffles.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t know,” she says in a voice that makes me feel like a monster for snapping at her.

“I’ll carry you back down, it’s not a big deal,” I rush out, desperate to stop the only thing I hate more than living in Cain’s Weeping—a crying girl.

Her hands fall from her face and her formerly trembling lip is now spread wide and curved upward at the ends as she beams happily at me.

“Oh, good! Another piggyback,” she shouts, and without any warning, she hops back onto my back.

“You gotta hold still, though. I’ve got to go slow. It’s steep,” I warn her and then turn to walk back down the hill.

She props her cheek onto the back of my shoulder and wraps her legs around my waist, locking them at the ankles as a symbol of her agreement.

“Okay, well how about you watch where we’re going, and I’ll tell you all about the book I’m reading.”

“You like to read?” I want to turn my head so I can see her face and make sure she’s serious. But I’m trying to focus on stepping over a pile of leaves that are also the perfect place for a snake to take a nap.

“Oh, yeah. It’s one of my favorite things to do, and my dad and I used to read together all the time,” she says happily, and I stop.

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