Breathe me Home | NaNoWriMo 2016

Chapter 3

Dad doesn't say anything Friday night. He comes in, changes out of his Chief's khakis, and joins us for our dinner of dogs and beans. Ricky's favorite, of course. The next morning, Mom rousts me awake.

"Up and at 'em," she shouts.

Saturday, right? Yeah. The beach. And the search for my project.

The four of us pile into Dad's old Impala and cruise out toward Diamondhead. This is the tourist trap location of choice. And where there's tourists, there's locals separating them from their money. We park near the beach and wander the shops. There's everything from T-shirts to seashells to "authentic" Hawaiian hula skirts. Tan faces under dark hair stare out of most of the shops. This early, the tourists haven't packed in yet. So now's a good chance to find my project.

Dad and Ricky take off in one direction while Mom and I pop into the first shop, a place selling nicknacks of all kinds. Buttons, magnets, sunglasses, and shirts line the shelves. A woman sits behind the counter. She's older than Mom for sure. Maybe as old as my grandmother. I walk up to the counter.

"Can I help you?" she asks in her islander accent.

"Yes ma'am. I'm working on a school project. I'm supposed to interview a native Hawaiian. Would you be willing to help me."

Her eyebrows raise. "Why do you ask me?"

I shrug. "Well...you're Hawaiian, right? And you seem like you'd be interesting."

"You know nothing about me, but you think I'm interesting?" She looks down at her hands and her I Love Hawaii T-shirt, which matches the ones hanging fromt he window.

"Well...yes ma'am."

"How do you learn anything from anyone if you don't even know them?"

"Well...I..."

"I'm busy. I cannot help."

I turn to the still empty shop and Mom gestures for me to come outside. I step into the cool breeze coming off the ocean and hold up my palms. "She wouldn't even try to help me."

Mom's already walking to the next shop. "Well, we've got more places to try."

That we did. And I got pretty much the same reaction from each person I spoke to.

"Do they hate me for some reason?" I asked Mom.

"You're a kid from the mainland." She pulls a beach hat out of her bag and plops it on my head. "All Hawaiians are not happy to have us here. They'll sell us they're merchandise, but there's still a lot of resentment among the locals, especially the older ones."

"Why?"

She sighs. "It's hard to explain. But just be patient."

Be patient? I'm going to end up with a C in Social Studies if I don't find someone to help me. Then it occurs to me. What I need is an ally. Somebody local. Someone the natives would listen to.

It appears I'll be finding myself a partner.