Our Friend, Mr.Sun

Izzy's POV

The rest of the day goes by very slow. Ms. Robin tries to get us to play games, read books, and even go outside to the swing set, but none of it feels fun. None of it feels like Superstar Daycare. 

When Mommy finally comes to pick us up, I can't get out of the house fast enough. As soon as I'm back in the car, I clutch my bunny tightly and stare out the window, wishing we could go back to Superstar Daycare. 

Wishing we could go back to him.

This place isn't right. 

It's not Superstar Daycare. 

It never will be. 

Lana's POV

The car jerks to a stop in the driveway, and my hands flap faster. I can't make them stop, not even when I want to. They're moving on their own, like they're the only thing keeping the tight feeling in my chest from swallowing me whole.

Mommy turns to us, her usual bright smile in place, like nothing's wrong. "We're home, girls!"

She doesn't ask how our day was. Not once.

It's like she doesn't notice how quiet the car ride was. How none of us said a word. Not Jade, not Izzy, not me. And it was horrible. The whole day was horrible.

"Come on," Mommy says, opening her door and stepping out like it's just another normal day.

I stay in my seat, my hands still flapping. Jade unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out slowly. She looks back at me.

"Izzy, Lana, let's go," Mommy calls, her voice cheerful.

Izzy hesitates, clutching her bunny to her chest like it's the only thing holding her together. She glances at me, her eyes wide and scared, then slides out of the car.

I don't move.

"Lana, sweetie, come on," Mommy says again, leaning down to look at me. Her smile is softer now, but it doesn't help. It doesn't feel real.

"I don't want to go back," I whisper, my voice shaky.

"What's that, honey?"

"I don't want to go back!" The words burst out before I can stop them. My hands flap harder, and my rocking starts up again, my whole body moving with the tight, twisting feelings inside me.

Mommy looks surprised. Her smile fading. "Lana, it's okay. Ms. Robin is a nice lady. You just need time to adjust."

I shake my head, the tears starting to blur my vision. "She's not nice! She—she doesn't like me! She doesn't like any of us!"

Mommy's face changes, her smile disappearing completely. "That's not true, Lana. She's just trying to help."

But she's not. She's not.

"You just have to give her time, girls," Mommy says in a sweet voice. "She'll understand you girls eventually."

"Eventually"? When is "eventually"? "Eventually" isn't good enough. I don't want "eventually." I don't want to wait for Ms.Robin to understand us, to stop calling me a bird or telling me to sit still. I don't want to wait for her to realize Izzy can't always talk, or for her to stop looking at Jade like she's being difficult when she's just scared.

"I don't like her," I say, my voice trembling.

"Lana…" Mommy crouches beside the car, her hand resting on my knee. She doesn't look mad, but she doesn't look like she understands either. "You have to try, sweetheart. Change is hard, but it's important to give people a chance."

I stop rocking for just a second and look at her, my hands still flapping, though slower now. "But why do we have to change? Why can't we just go back to the daycare?"

Mommy's face softens, but her eyes look sad, and I hate it. I hate seeing that look.

"Because things are different now," she says softly, like that explains everything. But it doesn't. It doesn't make any of this okay.

Jade stands by the car door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She doesn't say anything, but I can tell she agrees with me. Izzy is standing next to her, clutching her bunny.

"Girls…" Mommy sighs, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know this is hard. But you're going to be okay. I promise."

She always says that. You're going to be okay. But how does she know? How can she promise that?

I shake my head and turn away from her, staring out the car window.

"Come on, Lana," Mommy says gently, standing up. "Let's go inside. We'll talk more later."

I don't want to talk later. I don't want to talk at all.

Jade sighs and reaches out, her hand brushing my arm. "Come on," she says quietly. "We'll figure it out."

I glance at her. Her voice is shaky, like she's trying to sound braver than she feels. But at least she understands. She knows how awful today was.

Slowly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide out of the car.

Mommy gives us a small smile as we follow her toward the house, but I don't smile back. None of us do.

Because she doesn't understand.

Sunrise's POV

The last of the kids leave the daycare.

"Bye Sunrise!" Y/N call as she walks out the doors.

"BYE Y/N!" I shout back cheerfully.

I spin around dramatically, throwing my arms wide. "Alright, let's shine up this place!"

The mess is… well, impressive, as always. A masterpiece of mayhem, I call it. Syrup smeared on the wall—again. Pizza crumbs scattered across the tables. And don't even get me started on the tissues tangled up in the netting of the playground. I told them to use the trash can! The trash can, kiddos! It's right there! So close!

I let out a loud, exaggerated groan, throwing my head back dramatically. "EERRGGGHHH!!!" But even as I grumble, I can't help but smile. This is just part of the job, isn't it?

I grab a broom from the corner and I hum as I sweep, my usual tune—light and bouncy, something that always gets the little ones smiling.

But my movements slow as my gaze drifts toward the corner where Izzy used to sit, quietly coloring. I used to sneak a little glitter onto her drawings when she wasn't looking. She loved glitter glue.

I look over at the block tower that Lana used to build every day—always a rocket, always taller than she was. I can still hear her excited squeals when the tower was just right.

And Jade… Jade with her watchful eyes, always trying so hard to make sure her sisters were okay. She reminded me of a tiny little guardian, braver than she knew.

I pause mid-sweep, staring at the now-empty space. It's quiet. Too quiet. But I force myself to brighten up, literally and figuratively.

"No time for gloom, Sunrise! The room won't clean itself!"

With that, I dive back into cleaning, humming my tune louder this time.