I didn't know who all the people were. All I knew was that it was raining, and Mama was gone. I was about 11 years old—just a little girl. The cemetery was full of people, but it was as quiet as a library.
They brought out my Mama's casket, draped in an American flag. With tears in my eyes, I gave a small salute alongside my Pappy as they carried her to her final resting place. Just a few months ago, she promised me she'd be back in time for my birthday. And now, she's gone.
"Shay 'Ruffy' Duncan!" called out a soldier. It was her final roll call—a custom in the armed forces to honor soldiers who died in the line of duty. Daddy was beside himself, to say the least. "Shay 'Ruffy' Duncan!" Each time her name was called, he seemed to break down a little more—and so did I.
"First Sergeant Shay Duncan is not here. She has completed her final mission and is resting well in the hands of God." When those words hit, I'd never felt my Pa hold me so close before.
I didn't know my Momma for long, but the few years I had with her are moments I wish could've lasted forever. She died as a soldier, defending herself from enemy fire, and was killed in an explosion. It still hurts to think about. After the service, her commanding officer, Mr. Malcom, came by and handed me her dog tags. To this day, I still wear them around my neck.
"Be easy, Sam…" he said to my Daddy in his big ol' booming voice. Mr. Malcom always sounded that way, even when he was calm.
He and my pa had some kind of discussion, but I couldn't focus on it. I just kept staring at Momma's dog tags. It all felt surreal. I could feel tears streaming down my face as I clutched them in my hands. My lip quivered, and I just couldn't help myself.
"Mommy!"
My little dress shoes splashed into a puddle as I bolted toward her casket. I grabbed hold of it, clutching it almost tight enough to break it. But before I could, I felt my father pull me away.
"I know…I'm gonna miss her too…"
Leaving her was hard, but I'm sure she's smiling down on both of us. Afterward, it was a long car ride home—and an even longer couple of years. Papa was given some leave to be with me while we grieved. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to stay, but after a few conversations with some friends, he decided to call it quits. I never told him, but I was really happy he did.
"You sure, Samuel? Can't you leave her with her uncle if you get sent off?" I remember hearing one of them say, their voice garbled over the phone.
"No can do... the idiot got himself locked up, and by the time he gets out, Sunny'll be a grown woman."
He was talking about my Uncle Rooney on my Momma's side. Rooney was a bit of a troublemaker, but I never knew him beyond his name. Mama and Papa always said he was bad news. I've always wondered what he got put away for.
"She's all I got left, and if I passed on out there, where's she gonna go? She deserves a better life than the one I had," I remember hearing him say as I passed by his room. At the time, I was headed into the living room to see the little shrine we had for Momma sitting over the fireplace. It was simple but sweet—a pretty little picture frame next to ol' Glory and a cross.
She was a real pretty lady with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Pa always said I looked a lot like her—except my hair was shorter. When I stopped to look at the frame, a memory came back to me.
Daddy didn't have parents—no father, no mother. He grew up in an orphanage, and at 18, he joined the military. College wasn't an option for him, but he loved his country and wanted to protect others. He served for 14 years and had a chunk of money saved. After leaving the service, he bought a nice little place by the beach, and that's where we've been ever since.
He was stationed in a U.S. territory called "El Lugar." It was a real pretty place, but wasn't the most accommodating to foreigners like Pa and me. The military was well aware of this. So, with permission from the island's leaders and support from the U.S. government, they established a small district called "Eagleview."
It was a place where military folks and their families—whether active duty or not—could live. It wasn't much, but we made do. Funny enough, the base was decommissioned two years after Eagle view was founded. I never found out why, but it's something I've always wondered about. Living out on the island wasn't much different from being on base, except for the language barrier, of course. Thankfully, we got past that pretty quickly.
Since Eagleview was new, we only had one middle school at the time, so I ended up seeing a lot of familiar faces. My grades weren't great, but being quick on my feet made up for it! Pappy was even talking about sending me to college back in the States for it—once I graduated from high school, that is.
I had always wanted to be a soldier like my Pa, but we both knew I was too rambunctious for something like that. But yeah...it was almost perfect. Almost—if only Momma were still here.
Holidays and birthdays were still lonely without her; they still are, even now. I was never kept in the dark—I knew Momma and Pappy were soldiers, fighting for our country and all that. But sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different if they'd just left a little earlier.
Maybe it wouldn't have mattered. About a year and a half later, a whole lot started changing—and growing pains were just the half of it. It all started during one of our school's track meets. Pappy was there in the crowd, cheering me on along with all the other families.
It was a nice, sunny day—nothing out of the ordinary. Well, except for this funny feeling that kept bothering me all day. While I was getting to my starting marks, I gave Daddy a little wave and waited for the pistol to fire. I was ready to leave those girls in my dust.
"On your mark, get set…"
BANG! As soon as that pistol fired, I took off, moving as fast as my little legs could carry me. There wasn't anyone in front, and no one was gaining on me—except for Cindy. She was a persistent little thing, and she and I had a bit of a rivalry going. Every year since grade school, we'd always been neck and neck, trading trophies and sharing ribbons. But I wasn't going to let her beat me—not this time. I'd come second to her too many times, I tell you, but not today.
For the most part, the race was fast and loose—just me, her, and some scorching hot gravel. She was fast, but from where I was standing, first place was all mine. As soon as we got maybe 10 or 15 feet from the finish line, I stretched out my hands, puffed out my chest, and was just about to clinch that photo finish.
"C'mon, girl, you're almost there..." I thought to myself. But as I was running, that funny little feeling crept back. It was kinda like that jolt you get up your spine, except this time, instead of my back, I felt it in my arms. I wasn't sure what was happening until suddenly—BOOM! There was a scream, people covered their ears, Cindy got knocked to the floor, and I swear I caught this faint whiff of burnt grass in the air.
Before I knew it, I was flying forward, slamming straight into a chain-link fence. I ended up tangled in it like a rock wrapped in aluminum foil. "Daddy!" I cried. It was nothing short of a tiny disaster. A few people complained about the noise, and I think some others got minor burns but nothing too serious.
I couldn't say the same for myself, though. I was cut up pretty bad, with slices and bruises all over. My tears burned as they ran into my wounds, and I kicked and screamed, desperate to get free. But it didn't last long. As soon as I got hurt, it was like everything started washing away. It felt like someone gave me a big ol' hug, and just like that, all the pain was gone.
After a minute, some firefighters managed to cut me out, and I was taken to the hospital shortly after. The doctors said I was fine—I even walked away from the whole thing like nothing had happened, almost like it was some kind of miracle. But they wanted to run a blood test just to be sure. And sure enough, that's when they found it: the hybrid gene.
According to my Pappy, the hybrid gene wasn't something he was supposed to talk about. "Classified," he called it. But after I got my diagnosis, he sat me down one night and laid it all out. It was a real interesting story. We were out on the porch, roasting marshmallows over a fire pit when he just started talking.
"Now, ya see, Sunny…you 'member learning about the first contact war in school?"
"Sure do, Daddy…it was us vs the aliens! Pew pew!" I liked to make sound effects and act out the fights whenever I told the story.
"That's the one! Now, unlike your Momma, I joined up right after it was over. So my job wasn't fighting off whoever was left but clearing out whatever they left behind."
"Mhmm Mhmm!" I said, nodding.
"And well, cause of that...me– and your momma, to a greater extent, got exposed to some nasty stuff…"
"What kinda nasty stuff…daddy, like germs?"
"Sure, hon. Let's go with that…see…certain germs…get in your body, and they stay there. Sometimes, when you have a baby, those germs can pass onto them, and then they get sick."
"Well, getting sick's supposed feel bad yeah…? But I dunno, daddy…when I use these powers, I feel like I'm on top of the world!" I threw my arms out and let out a little glow. My Daddy couldn't help but smile.
"Good, sweetpea. You keep feeling that way, and don't let nobody tell you otherwise. You ain't sick; you just different." I held onto that for a good long while, keeping it in the back of my mind. I never once felt bad about having these powers.
The way I see it, if God gives a girl named Sunny powers tied to the sun, it just proves our Lord and Savior has a good sense of humor.
But I guess not everybody felt the same way.
The next day, as I was getting ready for school, I slung my backpack over my shoulder after carefully packing my little trading cards, which still had that fresh, new card smell. I felt all set and ready to take on the day. Excited, I raced into the hallway, ready to head on out. But just as I got there, the house phone rang. Who could that have been?
"I got it, baby girl. Breakfast is in the kitchen." Pa came right down the stairs as I headed into the kitchen to grab my hot plate. He'd made my favorite—eggs and bacon with two pieces of toast.
I scarfed down my food, but as I ate, Papa came into the room looking like he had something on his mind. Taking a nice bite of that crispy bread, I glanced up at him.
"Principal Wesley was on the phone," he said. "He wants to have a meeting with us before school starts. Finish up and meet me in the car."
A meeting…? What for? I had this weird feeling, but I carried on nonetheless.
Once we arrived, I got out of the car and led Pappy to Principal Wesley's office. Being so early in the morning, the school felt like a ghost town.
There were hardly any cars in the parking lot, and none of the buses had arrived. Every step we took echoed through the building. The only people I saw were the lunch ladies and a couple of janitors.
Aside from them, we had to be the first ones there. As we walked past the entrance, I spotted Principal Wesley standing just outside his office door, right before the locker hallway. He was wearing a plaid jacket with two different shades of brown, making him look all stiff and stuffy against his pale skin. Even so, his expression was soft and reassuring.
Yet, something about the way that door shut and echoed down the hallway as we stepped inside made me uneasy. Once the door closed, I took my seat.
I couldn't help but notice, when I glanced over at Daddy and Mr. Wesley, that both of them looked like they hadn't gotten a lick of sleep the night before. Were they really this stressed out over me? I still wonder about that to this day.
"Sunny, where're your manners?" Daddy's voice pulled me back to reality—I'd been so caught up watching the two of them that I'd completely forgotten to say hello.
"Morning, Mister Wesley," I said, a little nervous. My feet started fiddling against the support beam at the bottom of my wooden chair, all fidgety-like. I was itching to find out what this meeting was about.
"Good morning, Sunny, and to you as well, Mr. Duncan." Principal Wesley's voice was chummy, the kind that always sounded friendly, even when he was just giving a simple greeting.
"What's this about, Mr. Wesley?"
"Right. I'm sorry to call you both here so early, but…I felt this needed to be handled in person."
"Well, go on now."
This seemed like an adult conversation, so for the most part, I let Daddy do the talking.
"Well," Principal Wesley began, "unfortunately, due to the circumstances surrounding the 'incident' at the track meet last weekend, many of the parents of the other students are… understandably wary of Sunny after the revelation of her… abilities." He paused for a moment, taking a second to compose himself.
"Some of the people involved suffered hearing loss, and sadly, her classmate Cindy sustained burn damage to her arm. Nothing requiring hospitalization, but it still gave her and many of the other parents quite the scare."
My heart broke hearing those words. I didn't mean to hurt her. Cindy was my friend. I didn't even know what was happening when it all went down. I hung my head a bit, feeling guilty, but Papa, ever vigilant, rested his hand on my shoulder to let me know everything was going to be alright.
"So, I take it then… you're expelling her?"
"Well, not entirely," Principal Wesley replied. "She still needs to meet the curriculum requirements set forth by the School District. But due to the various complaints and the liability risk she presents, she'll be unable to attend in person and will be shifting to an alternative curriculum."
Those were some big words Mr. Wesley used—I didn't understand much of it at the time. Still, I did what I could to plead my case.
"I'm sorry… I ain't know that was gonna happen… I ain't mean it!" I said through little sniffles, my face all weepy-eyed.
Pappy quietly shushed me, keeping his arm around me. He knew what I was going through wasn't easy and did his best to help me through it.
"So, homeschooling then…?"
"Yes, sir. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. I didn't like having to make this decision, but we feel it is in the best interest of the student body."
I wanted to say something, but all I could do was look at my Daddy. Surely, he had a way to fix this, didn't he? But judging by the way he ran his hand across his face and that shaky look in his eye, it seemed like that wasn't going to be the case.
"Then, I think we'll be taking our leave. C'mon, Sunny…let's go…"
My eyes welled up with tears, and I felt a little betrayed hearing my Daddy talk like that. Wasn't he gonna do something? Say something? Fight for me? Why was he just letting Mr. Wesley get away with this? But as we left the building, I started to notice his body language—the way his fists were balled up by his sides, how hunched over he was, and the lack of any expression on his face.
That's when I realized it wasn't that he wouldn't fight for me—he just couldn't. I don't think I'd seen him that beat up in a long while. We made our way back to Daddy's truck, climbed in, and sat there in silence for a moment.
Pa kept a grip on the steering wheel, staring out like he was lost in thought–outta focus.
"So, I guess I ain't going to school, huh, Daddy?" I hung my head, staring at the floor as all the tears I'd held back in the office finally came pouring out.
Pappy let out a big ol' sigh and glanced over at me. When he saw I was crying, he handed me a little tissue before giving my shoulder a firm squeeze.
"Nah, not today, Sunshine…" I could tell it hurt his heart to say that, and mine felt just as achy, if I'm being honest.
"But that ain't fair…" I whined, stamping my little sandals on the floor of his truck.
"I know, darling, I know," he said, his voice soft. "But don't you worry, okay? You're still gonna get your education, and you're still gonna go to college. Pappy's gonna make sure of that!"
He wiped the tears from my eyes, and I looked back up at him, feeling just a little bit better.
"You promise…?"
"I sure do, c'mon!" He placed the keys in the ignition, and the car shook as the engine rumbled to life. "Best part about not going to school? You get to have lunch early. C'mon, I'll take ya wherever you wanna go!"
He backed out of the parking lot, turned up the radio to my favorite station, and off we went. I don't know how, but Daddy always knew just what to do to put a smile on my face. Even if what he said wasn't the answer I wanted to hear, it still made me feel like everything would be alright. And, of course, some comfort food never hurt, either.
After that, for the rest of my time in school, I did my studying on my own. Mind you, if I thought school was hard before, it was even harder when I didn't really have anyone to show me how it was done. Most of the time, I was just stuck with my head buried in a book. Pappy couldn't even get me a tutor, either. Sadly, nobody wanted to be around a little girl with powers that could go off any second they felt like. Honestly, it was lonely.
But whenever Pappy was home, he was my everything. He wasn't too book-smart, so he couldn't always help me with my homework, but he sure did know a thing or two about physical fitness.
After I discovered my powers, Pappy did his best to help me learn how to use them. We figured everything out together. For example, we realized I needed to be in contact with sunlight because it made my skin glow.
We also learned that whenever I got hurt, the sunlight I took in helped me heal. We took it one day at a time—baby steps. I know a lot more about myself now, but those early lessons were where it all started. They were some really good memories.
Eventually, after mastering the basics, we moved on to more advanced stuff, like learning patience, so I could focus my energy better when I was boosting. That way, I could move in all sorts of directions instead of just one!
He even taught me how to turn my little explosions into bullets. He went out and bought me a skeet shooter for target practice, too. Sometimes, when he wasn't around, I'd stand out by the beach behind our house and practice my shooting. It was so much fun watching the pretty little lasers make waves on the water.
"Look, Daddy, I'm Moses!" I'd always say before shooting out a big ol' beam and watching the ocean rise up. The beam always left a sizzle on the end of my hand, and hearing the crash of the water as the waves rose was so satisfying.
"Stop that now, girl. Don'tcha be making jokes like that," he'd say, giving me a little light tap on the butt. He never did like it when I said that.
"You're getting real good at that—those waves are getting wider and wider!" he'd say.
I'd look back up at him as he came around, always looking so cool with his sunglasses and that funny-looking stubble.
"You think so?" I'd say with a smile. He came right over to where I was standing.
"Mhmm! But just remember now, don't go using these out in public. Gotta be careful."
"I know…" I muttered, frowning as I hung my head like a sad ol' puppy. But then he tapped his hand gently under my chin, lifting it up.
"Now, look here, hon. Your powers remind people of something they all want to forget. Bad memories take a long time to fade, and some people ain't got no sense."
"But didn't you tell me not to let anybody tell me how to be?" I pouted back.
"I did, but what you gotta realize… is that when people see your powers…they don't see you. They see them aliens, who done ripped this planet apart all that time ago."
My chest felt heavy as I let out a sigh. Even as a kid, I learned that lesson loud and clear—especially after getting kicked out of school. He was right; hybrids like me weren't too common back then, at least not on the island. Honestly, even now, it's still kinda the same.
"That's why I think it's time I taught you how to defend yourself."
I looked over at him, and you should've seen my eyes—it was like tiny fireworks were going off.
"Defend myself? Like fighting!?"
Ever since I was little, I'd always been a fan of those boxing movies Daddy used to watch. When I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, I'd practice my punches in the mirror, bobbing and weaving. I'd always wanted to learn how to fight like that, but there weren't any programs for it on base at the time. So, to little ol' me, this was exciting!
"Ya mean it?" I said, my little legs bobbing up and down.
"Mhmm, but you gotta understand—this ain't no game. You ain't learning to fight for sport but to protect yourself. Now, get your hands up." He shifted his body, standing like he was about to throw a mean left hook.
"But hey, Daddy, what about… other folks…?"
"Ya mean like other people…? What about em'?"
"Well, I ain't the only one who's gonna get in trouble? Not everybody can fight like me, so why can't I learn to defend myself and other folks too? Like you, Daddy!"
He'd just pat me on the head and smile.
"Well…a'fore you can take care of others…you gotta take care of yourself first ya hear?"
I gave him a little salute. "Sir, yes sir!"
For the next couple of months, Pa taught me everything he knew about self-defense and taking care of myself, and let me tell you—I learned quick! My technique wasn't as good as his, and I struggled with a few things, but I had a handle on the basics. Still, every time we practiced, I never got tired of it.
The feeling of throwing a punch and sparring was exciting, and I couldn't wait for each session! It felt like a challenge, and I always wanted to get over the next hurdle. I guess it filled that empty spot in my heart now that I couldn't run track no more.
But the thing is, even though I knew how to take care of myself, Pa still had two rules: "No leaving the neighborhood and always come home a'fore dark." I didn't understand it at the time, but he was trying to protect me. Now that I'm a bit older, I seem to get it. Back then, though, it was just how things were—and I didn't like feeling like I couldn't go anywhere...
"Alright, Sunny girl, I'm heading off to work. Make sure you do your homework, ya hear?"
I let out a little sigh as I opened up that dang math packet. "Ooookaaaay…" Lord, I hated that thing—felt like I'd have more fun at the dentist getting my teeth pulled. For the next hour or so, I flipped through the pages, twiddling my pencil against the desk while the TV played in the background.
It was like this all the time, day in and day out. And every day, around the same time—about 12 P.M.—I'd hear the same old commercial. It came on so often, like clockwork. I'd seen it so many times that I could practically recite the words.
"Want to spice up your life? Come to El Lugar, where the waters are blue, and the people are just as beautiful. Want a slice of paradise? Come to El Lugar, we're waiting for you." Of course, it was all in Spanish, given where we lived.
Normally, I'd just let it play and pay it no mind, but today—well, something felt different. I'd been cooped up in this house for a while now, maybe about two months, and every time I saw that commercial, it felt like it was trying to tell me something.
I hadn't been out there since I got my powers, and seeing it now had me thinking, "Man, the city sure looks like fun!" The part of the island they showed on TV was a place called Westwood Central. It was chock full of fun and adventure, and I just knew I had to go back and see it again.
"I could sneak out, yeah, just this once...right?" I figured as long as I got back before Daddy found out, it'd be fine. I just needed to be home before dark. I didn't like breaking the rules—it made me feel real guilty, and honestly, I still do to this very day. But I just had to see it. God forgive me.
So, against my Daddy's wishes, I shut my books, threw on my favorite yellow jacket, grabbed my little jar of silver dollars, and made my way to the train station. Westwood Central, here I come!