Moni, a black autistic girl of nine, hugs a stuffed unicorn to her chest, her brow furrowed with questions. The world outside calls to her with mysteries, and she feels a restless need to understand everything she sees. She flips through a book about how rainbows form, her lips moving silently as she reads, then glances at the sunlight. "Why does the light make colors on my wall, but not on the floor?" The question floats in the air, unanswered.
Dad, Moni’s father, moves quickly between the stove and the table. Moni bounces into the room, curiosity bubbling. "daddy, why do pancakes get bubbles before you flip them?" dad sighs, trying to focus on the food. "Moni, eat your breakfast. Always with the questions, girl. You’re too fast for your own good."
Ms. Thompson, the teacher, stands at the front, writing math problems on the board. Moni raises her hand, eyes shining. "Why do we have to do the problems this way? Is there another way to add numbers?" The teacher’s lips tighten. "Moni, please don’t interrupt. We need to move on. Don’t be smart-mouthed." Moni withdraws, her fingers twisting in her lap as she looks away.
Moni finds solace here, surrounded by shelves tall as trees. She pulls down books about volcanoes, stars, and how birds fly. "Why does nobody want to answer my questions?" she whispers to the silence. Her fingers trace the spines of the books, searching for answers she can never seem to find from the adults in her life.
Moni thinks about all the questions she still has. She remembers the looks from adults—annoyed, dismissive, never understanding how much she wants to know. "Why do they think I’m being rude when I just want to understand?" Tears prick her eyes, but she blinks them away, determined not to stop asking.
Dad comes out, sitting quietly beside Moni. For a long moment, they just watch the stars. "You know, I used to ask why a lot too," Dad says softly. "Maybe I forgot what it feels like to want to know everything. I’m sorry, baby. Maybe we can look for answers together."
