Can you remember
Who you were,
Before the world
Told you who you should be?
K.w.
Being named after the sun was a hard thing to live up too. Sunny couldn’t decide if she wanted to be a raging inferno destined to burn the world down with her fire or a sweet, simple beam of light to warm the dark places in others. It really depended on whether or not she had any coffee that morning if she was going to blind the shit out of someone or just be a subtle discomfort. Like if you fell asleep in the sun for too long.
Like seriously who names their kid after a freakin’ hot ball of gas in the sky that, in like eight hundred billion years, would swallow the earth in a fiery explosion and kill any life on it?
Well at least she wasn’t named after the floating rock in the sky where that one guy's missing left testicle was, wait that’s Lance Armstrong the cyclist, not Niel the astronaut, whoops. But damn all those white guys looked the same in her opinion. Sunny was hardly the worst name in the world, cough North West cough, she could live with it.
“Sun, whatcha thinking about?” Moony, said child named after the floating rock in the sky, asked her. Maybe she could change her name? Bethany? Barbara? Something starting with a B maybe?
“Lance Armstrong’s missing left testicle and if he is related to Neil or not.” She responded plainly, ignoring the startled look the woman in seat 2-B sent her. If she didn’t want to hear about Lance Armstrong’s missing left testicle she should stop eavesdropping like a hoe. The little bitch was sending goo-goo eyes at her twin. Moony, her twin Moony, who has never kissed a girl in his life, let alone seen one naked. Which was what this white woman was thinking about if the disgusting smell of lust redating off her was anything to go by.
Over her dead body would this woman pop Moony’s cherry! She giggled and shot Hussie Number Two a glare she had been working on for the 1.58 hours it took to fly from the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona to Stevensville, Montana. The woman looked back down at her Vogue magazine and if Sunny wasn’t feeling so possessive she would have admired the chick’s tastes. In magazines, not men. What about Steph? Nah, that sounded like an STD. Tiff? Tiffy?
“Sounds fun, but let’s call that a personal topic.” Moony drawled, smirking at 2-B and causing her to blush. Which is why 2-B was Hussie Number Two and not number one, as that lovely spot was permanently taken by Jacy Redfeather. AKA Moony.
“Why, Lance Armstrong will never find his missing left testicle if the general public is not informed of its… missingness.” Sunny smirked, she was good at that and blew a strand of bubble gum pink hair out of her face. The look on Catori Redfeather’s face when Sunny came home from Europe with pink hair was priceless, god did she wish she had a camera.
“If you say Lance Armstrong and missing left testicle in the same sentence again I will throw you out of this plane and laugh,” Moony growled. Sunny gasped and jutted out her bottom lip. She was good at pouting too. She had lots of talents.
“What if I said Lance Armstrong’s misspaced not the right ball but the other one, instead?”
“How can you misplace a testicle? I can’t believe we came from the same womb.”
“Me either, have you seen my face, God was mean to you Moons.” Sunny shook her head in sympathy and placed a tan hand on his broad shoulder for comfort. Moony pressed his plump lips together in disgust and shrugged off her hand. Rude.
“God was mean to me in more ways than one. Giving us you as a family member proves that there is sin in the world.” He droned, shifting his long legs, careful not to kick the seat in front of him. Moony was considerate like that, unlike Sunny who knocked the hell out of the seat in front of her when she did the same thing. Why the guy had to glare at her she had no idea, it’s not like she meant to give him a bloody nose. Baby backed bitch, she thought, sticking a tongue out at the back of his seat, like an adult.
“I am so telling Amá you said that!” Sunny whined, channeling a very accurate Kim K performance. She thought she should get a Grammy for her work. She already had her acceptance speech planned. I would like to thank my legs for getting me places, my arms for feeding me….
“Go ahead, she’ll agree with me,” Moony said, totally unaware she had just cut him out of her will. He took a sniff and furrowed his brows. Sunny smelled the air too and only came up with the scent of airplanes and feet. “I wonder what her name is?” He whispered, barely a sound came out from his lips. But Sunny could hear, could still hear it even if he was in the bathroom at the very back. Mountain lions had very good hearing and so did their Skinwalker counterparts.
“Brenda or some other white name. Why do you care? It’s not like you’re gonna see her again.” Sunny glared at her once more.
“Casual fun, ain’t nothing wrong with it, Suns.” Moony tilted forward to smirk at Hussie Number Two, letting the full might of his Navajo features overpower the woman’s delicate sensibilities. Moony was handsome, even though she had to admit it, with gorgeous long black hair and piercing brown eyes, he could stop a heart in its chest. Then again the same could be said for Sunny, though her features were wider than her twin’s. She had their mother’s Hopi face.
“Moon, we’re Baptist, no diddles before marriage, remember?” Moony sighed and sat back, closing his eyes for a moment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his unconscious tick he did when he had a headache. Sunny reached down, rummaging through her brown bag and slipped two Advil into his large palm. Moony took them without saying anything, he didn’t have too, Sunny felt his gratefulness.
“Attention passengers, we will be landing in Stevensville Memorial Airport in ten minutes, please fasten your seatbelts, raise your tray tables, and prepare for landing. On behalf of Delta Airlines, we thank you for flying with us.”
Ten minutes before landing. Ten minutes before they were in the Maroc's territory. Ten minutes till Sunny’s life would change.
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