Kai's P.O.V.
There are things that wait in the dark outside of glimmer and shine. They slither quietly in the shadows and breathe slowly just outside the limits of what others believe. When Nya was six, she saw them. I was ten, and oblivious.
Dad redecorated Nya's room. It was mainly so she'd stay in it at night. She picked out everything, from the bright yellow paint to the monkey decals dancing all over the walls. Bunks beds so she'd a choice of where to sleep. There were green, leafy pillows and even a rope-swing chair in the corner. It was the most cheerful room on the planet. A place where a respectable monster would be embarrassed to hang out. A definite no monster zone.
None of it mattered. The first morning after the big makeover, I found her curled up in a ball sleeping on the floor next to my bed. And it kept happening. Every single night. The routine was always the same. Dad would check on me to make sure I was sleeping rather than goofing off on my phone, which was always hidden under my pillow for when he left. Then he would go tuck Nya in and soothe her for a few minutes before going to bed himself. And then one hour later, like clockwork, I'd hear a quiet knock at my door.
"Go to bed, Nya." I hissed, shoving my phone under my pillow again so I wouldn't draw attention to myself. The door creaked open anyway. She stood there in the hallway, the darkness of the sleeping house behind her, her eyes full of unshed tears.
"I'm scared." She'd say.
"Of what?" We'd had this conversation hundreds of times. Thousands, maybe.
"I don't know." She'd reply.
"There's nothing to be scared of." I'd say, and I believed it. Then.
"I'll just lie down in the hall." She dropped to the carpet and curled up into a ball, tucking her hands under her head for a pillow, her eyes open and watching me.
"Go back to bed, Nya." I'd groan. But she-surprisingly- was a lot more stubborn than me, and eventually I'd grow too impatient to care.
"Fine." I sighed, and she'd bound into my room.
"Thank you, Kai." She whispered, as if I had just granted her asylum of some horrible fate. She climbed over me and wedged herself into a spot below the window against the wall, snuggling into the covers and blankets with a big sigh of satisfaction. "Promise me you'll stay here all night." She murmured, blinking up at me, her eyes just like our mother's.
Mom… I didn't want to think about her now. "Go to sleep," I muttered back, ridding my mind of these dark thoughts. "It's just for one night. Tomorrow you will go back to your own bed."
But she didn't. So finally, after the bajillionth time, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Even at ten years old, I was an expert at manipulating Nya. After all, I had spent most of my life figuring out ways to get her to leave my stuff alone. When she was two and I was six, an enticing trail of stuffed animals placed along the hall would lead her straight to her own room, and not mine. When she was four and I was eight, I would leave open picture books strategically placed on the couch to keep her from interrupting my favorite television show. It only took a little research and a silver bracelet I got for Nya's birthday.
Dad forced me to take Nya to Claire's to buy girl stuff, and that's when I saw the bracelet. The salesclerk said the tiny gray-colored stone that dangled from the silver chain was called a moonstone. It was 75 percent off and the name was catchy. Moonstone. So I spent my allowance an bought the piece of junk and hid it under my pillow alongside my phone. When Nya showed up at my bedroom door like clockwork on the night of our shared birthday, I didn't argue, but let her climb right into the bed beside me.
Once she had settled into her spot, I pulled up the shades. The bright full moon lit up my bedroom like the light was turned on. I couldn't have planned this any better.
"You're in second grade this year, right?" She nodded, looking across the bed at me. "Second graders," I said solemnly. "Are very grown up. They aren't afraid to sleep in their own rooms." Her bottom lip began to quiver. She knew where this was going. "Do you want to sleep in your own room?"
"Yes." She didn't sound so sure.
"Then I'm going to give you some magic words. You can say them toy yourself at night and it will keep you from being scared. You'd like that… right?" She nodded again. "So here the secret. You say these words every night." I glanced out the window at the giant moon and recited the words I'd made up earlier. "When the moon shines bright…"
"When the moon shines bright," Nya whispered after me.
"Your fears will be few."
"You're fears will be few," she said.
"And only sweet dreams," I continued. "Will come to you." Nya repeated it faithfully, her wide eyes unblinking. It was a piece of cake. "Now you say it." I ordered. "From the beginning."
"When the moon shines bright your fears will be few," Her voice was quiet, but steady. "And only sweet dreams will come to you."
"Good." I smiled at her.
"But what if the moon isn't shining? Sometimes it doesn't."
I simply slid my hand under my pillow. She sat up in the bed, her head tilted to one side. I pulled out the bracelet and held it up so she could see the sparkle of the tiny gray stone dangling in the moonlight.
"Ohh…" It made a great first impression.
"This is a moonstone," I explained with a sly smile. "Some people say these special jewels are really rays of the moon captured in a rock." Nya reached out a tiny hand to touch it and the movement caused the light pouring in from the window to scatter across the wall. "So I'm gonna give you this special bracelet. When you put it on, and say the magic words, you won't be afraid to sleep in your own room anymore. Because you'll always have the moon with you." Her eyes got even wider. "You understand?"
She dipped her head as I fastened the bracelet around her tiny wrist. She grinned up at me in excitement, twisting her arm from side to side and watching the stone shimmer.
"When the moon shines bright, your fears will be few," She chanted softly. "And only sweet dreams will come to you."
It worked just as well as I thought it would. I was, after all, the get-rid-of-Nya expert. She never spent another night in my room.