This is my first story posted...also the one I entered into the SOMIRAC Young Writers Contest...here goes nothing!
I always knew Alana was there. She was never acknowledged or spoken of, but I knew there was one missing. I mean who makes a family of twenty five kids, biological and adopted, and names them with the letters B through Z? There has to be an A. I was at Z, the youngest biological child and Alana was the imaginary older sister I never had. Between us, it was a bunch of boys. You can probably see why I spent so much time thinking about Alana. But it wasn’t until I turned thirteen that I decided to go looking for her.
It was a hot, hazy summer’s day, the day of my thirteenth birthday. I was in the basement, looking at old family pictures. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I was doing. Yet again, I was looking for any hints of Alana. One picture showed a blond baby with striking blue eyes sitting on a rocking horse. I had seen all my brothers baby pictures thousands of times, Brandon to Yank. I knew for a fact that it wasn’t them on that rocking horse. It was Alana.
“Zaria, time for cake!” yelled my older brother, Julio in his deep, commanding voice. I didn’t want to eat cake. I wanted to find out more about Alana. They could cut the cake without me, for all I cared. They could unwrap all of my presents for me if they liked. I didn’t need presents; I needed proof that I really did have a big sister. So, ignoring Julio’s shouts, I continued digging through all our family treasures.
I must have been in that basement for hours. My legs ached from sitting so long and I had begun to have a really bad headache from the drone of the furnace in the storage room. It seemed like everything around me was telling me to give up. I kept pressing on, even though I was tired of going through pictures of my brothers. It wasn’t until four o’clock that I struck gold.
When I first saw it, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a box; big, sturdy, and brown. To anyone else, it would’ve been an ordinary box. But what made it stand out was just one name, scribbled in green Sharpie on the top. Alana. I could tell it hadn’t been taken out in a while. I coughed and wheezed from the dust as I pulled the box out from where it was wedged. Triumphantly, I pulled the flaps open.
What I found inside that box took my breath away. The box was filled with everything that I could ever hope to see about Alana. There were pictures upon pictures of the same blond haired baby I had seen sitting on the rocking horse. For a moment, I thought the whole box was filled with pictures. Boy was I wrong. The first thing I saw was a baby blanket made of possibly the softest silk that I had ever felt. Stitched into the side was the name “Alana”. There were dozens of miniature outfits and shoes in all different colors. There were bottles and rattles and all kinds of baby toys. This was my final proof. I knew what I had to do. Using all my strength, I lugged the box upstairs.
“Hey mom, look what I found!” I yelled cheerfully, watching my footing on the steps. I looked up, expecting my mom to be happy and overjoyed. Her face was sheet white.
“Zaria, where were you?” her voice sounded worried and angry at the same time.
“Just in the basement,” I reply, as nonchalant as possible.
“Doing what?” I was torn. Should I tell her what I was really doing, or should I lie? Would she be mad at me if I asked about Alana?
“Just looking at pictures,” I started. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Mom, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Did you ever have a baby girl before you had or adopted any of us? It just makes perfect sense that there would be an A missing. And this box is full of pictures and baby clothes and everything. What happened to Alana?”
My mom paused right there and looked at me in that way that only mothers can. It was that why- did- you –have- to- bring –this- up- now- and- why- were- you- snooping- in -the -first place look. “Honey, you know our friends the Hendersons right?”
“Of course,” I say. “Their daughter Kelsea is one of my best friends.”
“Alana was their daughter. When she was a few months old, they gave Alana to us to take care of. Then they left for a year. We had no way to contact them and tell them about their daughter. In that time, she became like our own. At the time, she was the daughter we never had. But then the Hendersons came back a year later to claim her. We were so upset. To always keep her in our hearts, we kept all the wonderful pictures, clothes, and toys.”
“But where is Alana now?” I asked.
“Oh she’s off working somewhere now. She has her own life, it’s best we not disturb it.” I was absolutely heartbroken. I had spent hours digging through to find out that I never had a real sister named Alana. I went to my room and cried. It was the worst birthday I had ever had.
That night I heard a knock on my door. Tentatively, I opened it. Peter was standing at the door, wearing his coat.
“Zaria, we have a birthday surprise for you. Follow me.” I honestly didn’t care what surprise they had for me. All through dinner they tried to cheer me up. Even their corny attempt at singing the “Happy Birthday” song didn’t make me smile. I was sure that whatever they had in store for me was sure to be another fruitless attempt to brighten my birthday.
Nonetheless, I followed Peter down the winding staircase. I could hear wails from downstairs, but I guessed it was just the television or my brothers picking a fight like they always do. Peter led me into the family room, where on the couch lay a baby girl wrapped in a beautiful pink silk blanket. I thought I was dreaming!
“Surprise!” everyone yelled.
“Zaria, we’ve known how much you wanted a sister for months. So I went to the adoption agency and filled out some papers! Looks like you got a new sister! What do you want to name her?” My mom is the only person more excited than I am.
For a second, I wondered why she even asked that question. “Alana,” I said joyously, “Alana!”
My mom hugged me and all my brothers joined in. It felt absolutely amazing thinking about all the things I would do with Alana. Sure, she wasn’t a big sister, but I could be one to her. I would watch her grow and become a wonderful young lady just like me. Sure, I didn’t find her in the way that I expected, but I found Alana nonetheless.
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