meraki; power rangers lightspeed rescue

i. operation lightspeed

"Thank you for flying with Hawaiian, we wish you safe travels and to come home soon." I've always been a homebody, mostly because it was unavoidable. With taking care of my younger sibling and ailing grandparents, even something like going to the mall with friends was a luxury.

Of course, the exception to that was when I'd go hiking or biking with my older brother, Leon. (Or to the shooting range. Or to his art shows.)

Okay, maybe not so much of a homebody. Maybe I'm just someone who doesn't appreciate big changes, like moving to California for film school, no matter how much I've wanted this. Clearly, this was a shock to my parents, nearly as much of a shock as it was for me to become the youngest writer of a television pilot episode to come out of Hawaii. No one really expects it from the teenage girl who, when I'm not doing any of my aforementioned activities, sleeps at any chance I get. The teenage girl who hates being shoved into the spotlight, who'd much rather hear about my new scripts, films, or episodes via social media instead of a glamorous premiere-

A group of cackling college students trample past me, laughing their asses off, and I have to backpedal to avoid them. Nice. Not even five minutes into living on the mainland, and I'm already being stepped on.

———

First major difference between Honolulu, Hawaii and Mariner Bay, California? I've never once had to take a taxi. (And Ubers and Lyfts don't count.)

This is mostly because my parents forbade me from doing so, meaning I'd get frequent rides from the family's driver, George. The older Japanese man was oddly sad when I'd finally gotten my license and said that he'd miss my storytelling while we sat idling in traffic.

The memory makes me smile, even as I stare out onto the unfamiliarly busy city street. Now, George is an ocean away, undoubtedly reassuring my parents that I'm doing okay, that Mariner Bay can't be that different from Kahala, can it- "Ma'am?" The taxi's pulled to a stop in front of a building that I vaguely recognize as the one I'd rented out a unit in. Somehow, it's cheaper than living on campus. (Not much different at all.) "This is your stop."

"Great, thanks." I hand him the payment, then collect all my luggage and haul ass up to my unit. It's cozy, not small enough to be restricting, but not large enough to have too much space for one person. Nice. Thankfully, it doesn't take me too long to unpack, since I think I spotted a cafe downstairs while struggling with my belongings.

———

The aforementioned cafe- Bishop Street Cafe- is bustling with mid-afternoon customers, so as I wait for a table to clear up, I pull out my notebook from my purse and flip it open. An unfinished idea for a script fills the first few pages, and I can't help the cringe that passes over my body. That plot had been a bust, full of holes, not to mention confusing.

But just like being here, miles and miles away from home, I can always start fresh, right?

"Mocha latte for Ally?"

I smile at the barista and reach for my usual order. "Yeah, thanks so much." She doesn't meet my gaze, her eyes somewhere reaching over my shoulder, a frown on her face. "Sorry, is there-"

The glass window behind us shatters.

———-

Extremely sheltered from life or not, I haven't lived under a rock. I've heard all about those groups of people in multi-colored suits, the ones that call themselves the Power Rangers. Pretty sure there was even a group of them that lived on the space colony, Terra Venture. I wonder how space is, and if my silly sci-fi scripts can even live up to it.