the girl with a sunny smile

The Sunrise Children's Home sat at the edge of town, where the paint peeled a little on the shutters, and the garden grew more weeds than flowers. But inside, on most mornings, you could hear laughter spilling out of the windows — and most of it belonged to one small girl.

Nyra was seven years old, with messy black curls that never stayed in their ribbons and a gap-toothed grin she wore like a crown. She had lived at Sunrise since she was a baby, left on the doorstep one rainy night with nothing but a torn blanket and a tiny silver bracelet too small for anyone to explain. She didn't remember her parents. She didn't remember being sad about it, either — not really. Nyra had decided, somewhere along the way, that the world was far too interesting a place to spend it frowning.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" she sang, bouncing onto the end of Meera's bed, the dormitory still grey with early light.

"Nyra, it's not even time yet," Meera groaned, pulling her blanket over her head.

"It's always time for breakfast," Nyra said matter-of-factly, as if this were a universal law of nature. She hopped to the next bed, where little Tobi was curled up like a snail. "Tobi! Tobi, I had a dream we found a dragon in the garden, and he let us ride him to school!"

Tobi peeked one eye open. "Was he friendly?"

"Very friendly. He liked biscuits."

By the time the matron, Mrs. Hodges, rang the bell for breakfast, Nyra had already woken four of the six children in her dormitory, recruited two of them into a plan to build a "dragon nest" out of blankets, and lost — then found — her left shoe.

"Nyra," Mrs. Hodges said at the door, trying very hard to sound stern and not quite managing it, "why is there a blanket fort in the middle of my hallway?"

"It's not a fort," Nyra said brightly. "It's a dragon nest. The dragon's shy. He only comes out for breakfast."

Mrs. Hodges sighed the particular sigh of someone who had given up trying to win arguments with seven-year-olds years ago. "Well, tell your dragon breakfast is getting cold."

Nyra grinned and shot off down the hallway, curls bouncing, shouting over her shoulder that the dragon said thank you very much.

It was like this every day at Sunrise. Most of the children there carried their sadness quietly, tucked away like a secret. Nyra carried hers too — she just hadn't learned yet that it was sadness at all. To her, having no parents meant she had thirty roommates instead of one family, and thirty roommates seemed, on the whole, like an excellent deal.

The Sunrise Children's Home sat at the edge of town, where the paint peeled a little on the shutters, and the garden grew more weeds than flowers. But inside, on most mornings, you could hear laughter spilling out of the windows — and most of it belonged to one small girl.

Nyra was seven years old, with messy black curls that never stayed in their ribbons and a gap-toothed grin she wore like a crown. She had lived at Sunrise since she was a baby, left on the doorstep one rainy night with nothing but a torn blanket and a tiny silver bracelet too small for anyone to explain. She didn't remember her parents. She didn't remember being sad about it, either — not really. Nyra had decided, somewhere along the way, that the world was far too interesting a place to spend it frowning.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" she sang, bouncing onto the end of Meera's bed, the dormitory still grey with early light.

"Nyra, it's not even time yet," Meera groaned, pulling her blanket over her head.

"It's always time for breakfast," Nyra said matter-of-factly, as if this were a universal law of nature. She hopped to the next bed, where little Tobi was curled up like a snail. "Tobi! Tobi, I had a dream we found a dragon in the garden, and he let us ride him to school!"

Tobi peeked one eye open. "Was he friendly?"

"Very friendly. He liked biscuits."

By the time the matron, Mrs. Hodges, rang the bell for breakfast, Nyra had already woken four of the six children in her dormitory, recruited two of them into a plan to build a "dragon nest" out of blankets, and lost — then found — her left shoe.

"Nyra Sharma," Mrs. Hodges said at the door, trying very hard to sound stern and not quite managing it, "why is there a blanket fort in the middle of my hallway?"

"It's not a fort," Nyra said brightly. "It's a dragon nest. The dragon's shy. He only comes out for breakfast."

Mrs. Hodges sighed the particular sigh of someone who had given up trying to win arguments with seven-year-olds years ago. "Well, tell your dragon breakfast is getting cold."

Nyra grinned and shot off down the hallway, curls bouncing, shouting over her shoulder that the dragon said thank you very much.

It was like this every day at Sunrise. Most of the children there carried their sadness quietly, tucked away like a secret. Nyra carried hers too — she just hadn't learned yet that it was sadness at all. To her, having no parents meant she had thirty roommates instead of one family, and thirty roommates seemed, on the whole, like an excellent deal.

She didn't know yet that today would be the day everything started to change.

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