Dastardly Bastard by Edward Lorn Page B

in her own. Her hand was incredibly soft and smelled of jasmine. Whether it was lotion or soap, he had no idea.
    “I is Phan Sunne, Mista Adams.” Her English was horribly broken, but he found it endearing.
    “Nice to meet you, Phan.”
    She giggled.
    “What?” He smiled, though he had no idea what was funny.
    “No. You call me Sunne. American names backwards. First name, um, last… last name, eh , first.”
    “Right. Sunny. I like that name. It fits you.” He lied. Even though she shone brilliantly in the soft lights of the atrium, her black hair was far from sunny .
    “Sue-nay,” she corrected. “It spelled S-u-n-n-e.”
    Donald heard himself talking, saw Sunne drifting away, but had no idea why he was leaving. He still had to register for school and make sure everything was in line for his scholarship. Yet, he was going, waving at her over his shoulder, as he said, “All right. Bye!”
    Fear drove him out of the line and into the light of the day. He wasn’t used to polite people who weren’t his own size. He imagined the conversation ending horribly with something like, “Why are you so short?” or “Are you a member of the Lollipop Guild?” Either of those, or something like them, would destroy him. She seemed so nice. He didn’t want anything to ruin his image of her, so he’d left.
    He walked down the steps at the front of the college. A tall guy, not paying attention to where he was going, knocked Donald to the sidewalk with the backpack the moron had slung over one shoulder. Donald landed on his back, watching the guy move on without so much as an apology. He started to flip the guy off, until he noticed Sunne coming through the double doors.
    Donald pushed himself up, wanting to escape before she started laughing. He was still rising when he felt soft hands under his shoulders. Her voice was calm and caring as she helped him up. “Why you leave, Mista Adams?”
    When Donald looked at her, she wasn’t laughing. Not even so much as a smile crossed her face. She looked concerned. Heartbroken, even. Here we go , he thought. “It’s just… you’re going to say something I’m not going to like and ruin yourself for me. You’re a sweet enough looking girl—really, you are—but you won’t be able to help yourself. You won’t be able to get over the fact that I’m small and you’re tall, and—”
    He paused when he saw that Sunne was, indeed, laughing at him. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He stormed off toward the sidewalk, making sure his anger was shown. He didn’t care how silly he looked.
    “Wait! Mista Adams,” Sunne called, catching up with him. “You don’t understand!”
    Donald was almost to the turnabout at the front of the building, and had no intention of stopping. He’d heard it all before; they all laughed, thinking it was all right, that he would laugh with them. Then, when they realized he didn’t find his condition , as some put it, funny, they would chase him down to apologize.
    “Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry .” He waved her off even as she jogged up next to him.
    “My father shorter than you, Mista Adams. You remind me of him.”
    Donald stopped.
    Sunne took two more steps forward and turned to face him. She held out her hand. “Let us start from over.”
    “From the beginning,” Donald corrected. Her smile was infectious, and he found himself returning it no matter how hard he fought the urge.
    “Yes, from beginning. I am Sunne. You are Mista—”
    “Donald. Just call me Donald.”
    “Donald, ah.” She bowed her head, just slightly, making Donald feel a little awkward. He didn’t know if he should nod back or what. In the end, he just took her hand and shook it.
    “Donald is good name,” Sunne added.
    “Thanks.” Donald released her hand. His palm tingled where it had touched hers. “Your father is a little person, you say?”
    “Yes. All his life.”
    “I would hope so. I wouldn’t think he just suddenly shrunk one