All the Answers

“Lei, wait,” Ilikea called as Lei reached the door. She paused as Ilikea jogged toward her. “Look, you see how she is,” Ilikea whispered. They both looked back over at Kaukahi, who was reabsorbed in her project, scrunching and stabbing, not paying them any attention at all.

“Mm-hmm.” Lei mimicked Kaukahi’s indifference.

“So…she doesn’t think she needs me. Or anyone, for that matter. You’re probably the first non-family human she’s talked to all summer other than the aunties down at the fabric store. She’s so busy with her projects, which are amazing and starting to get noticed by other tour companies—”

Lei’s curiosity got the better of her. “Tour companies?”

“Oh, yeah, her mom runs her own tour company.” Ilikea’s chest puffed up and she got a proud smile on her face the way Lei’s mom did when she’d brag about her daughter’s accomplishments on the snowboard team. “Super successful, too, and recognizable thanks to Kaukahi’s one-of-a-kind creations. Totally revamping the traditional aloha wear.”

Lei grabbed the doorknob. “That’s great and all, but I do need to meet Tūtū.”

Her thirty minutes were probably almost up. She pulled the door open, but Ilikea pushed it closed again.

“Wait, I need your help.” Ilikea’s voice dropped so low, Lei strained to hear her. “I don’t want to be a kuewa.”

Lei’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”

“I need her to need me. It’s a two-way street. I just graduated, I have to prove to the akua, the gods, that I’m worthy by being helpful and, well, needed and appreciated. Otherwise, bye-bye, pendant, hello to the other side.”

The bat-girl sang the last part in a big voice, trying to lighten the mood, but Lei was sinking fast. Both her friends becoming decaying, awful creatures? She braced herself on the doorframe.

“Ya good?” Ili asked.

“No, I’m not good,” Lei hissed. “Why don’t you tell her? I’m sure she would help you out.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m not allowed to tell her. The unwritten ʻaumākua code states that they have to want us around. If we ever say that we need them to need us, that’s, like, cheating or something. Not allowed.”

Kaukahi glanced up, an annoyed expression on her face.

Ilikea clamped her lips together tightly and offered a little wave.

Seeing her loudmouthed, self-confident friend being reduced to a quiet mouse pushed Lei over the edge. She turned sharply from the front door, determined to smack some sense into Kaukahi. That was not how you treat your decaying ancestor.

Ilikea grabbed her arm. “Lei, I know that look. Kaukahi isn’t Pele. Down, girl. Chill,” she said under her breath.

Lei closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. When she was sure she wouldn’t act in a way that would embarrass Tūtū, she whispered, “Fine, but I’m going to need your help later with an experiment.”

“Yeah, sure, anything.”

“Just remember you said that when I ask for your pendant.”

Ilikea’s jaw dropped as Lei sauntered back into the living room.

“You’re making that for a parade reception?” Lei asked Kaukahi. “Are you talking about Saturday’s Kamehameha Day parade in Hilo? Are you going, too?”

She and Tūtū usually watched the live stream of festivities on TV to avoid the crowds in town.

“Bigger.” Kaukahi tossed her hair back and pinned a piece of fabric in place. “Mom’s repping the Island of Hawaiʻi as a pāʻū rider in Honolulu’s Kamehameha Day parade. And she asked me to design her dress for the after-party.” Kaukahi picked up a shimmery, sheer piece of fabric and draped it across the bodice, then shook her head and dropped it. “It needs to be the epic-est of all. Then I’ll be on the map and on my way to join Dezigns by Kamohoaliʻi at Fashion Week in New York, Paris, and Milan.”

Lei had heard of that designer. When Tūtū was teaching her about the importance of memorizing her moʻo kūʻauhau, her genealogy, Tūtū used Micah Kamohoaliʻi as an example of tracing lineage all the way back to the legendary shark king who was his namesake. With Kaukahi’s high makamaka attitude Lei highly doubted she’d be invited anywhere, especially by such a renowned designer. When she opened her mouth to say so, Ilikea suddenly had a coughing fit.

“Sorry, bug in my throat,” Ili said, hitting her chest with her fist.

Lei crossed her arms, seeing right through the interruption. Ilikea had said Kaukahi hadn’t been getting out of the house except to go to the fabric store. Fashion-y people on the shows her mom binge-watched talked about inspiration from, like, cinnamon and world peace and cut grass and other absurd things. Or was that candle scents? Either way, where was Kaukahi getting her inspiration?

“Are you pulling ideas from those Fashion Week shows?” Lei asked.

“Ew, like I would ever be a copycat.”

But the way she chewed her lower lip as she studied the fall of the fabric had Lei wondering if the confident girl had everything as under control as she was claiming. Finally, a chink in the armor. Lei could work with that. If there was one thing she knew, it was uncertainty. Self-doubt. Fear of failure. Worrying you were missing something but having zero clue what it was.

Ilikea coughed again. “Another bug. Might be an infestation coming. Lei, did you have something else you wanted to add?”

“Oh, sure, yeah. I didn’t mean it like that. I just know that I’ve heard people in fashion talk about inspiration coming from all sorts of places, and since you work so hard, I just didn’t know where you go to…ah…refill the tank.”

Whenever her dad was overwhelmed at work, he’d go for a hike to “refill the tank.” Seemed reasonable that it’d make sense here, too, even though Lei felt completely out of her element trying to talk fashion.

Kaukahi’s shoulders fell. “Is it that obvious? Ugh, if a pleb like you can tell I’m outta ideas, what’s Mom gonna say? No offense.”

Did she really just say that? Lei blinked. Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have to like you.

“Well, that’s rough.” Lei clapped her hands together hard enough to sting. “Hey, I just thought of something. Ilikea had just come up with this plan to help me get my ʻaumakua’s necklace back.”

That got Kaukahi’s attention. The girl spun on her heels, dropping the fabric she’d been pinning. “Your ʻaumakua lost their necklace?”

Lei rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah. It’s a long story involving a fired-up Pele being a sore loser.”

Kaukahi stood up and focused on Lei. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Uh,” Lei looked at Ili, who was counting on her fingers. “Three days ago, I think? He didn’t have it on when I got back to him.”

“Wow. Did you have anything to do with him losing it?” Kaukahi asked, eyes narrowed.

Sharp daggers of guilt pressed into Lei’s back and she squirmed. “Yeah, like I said, long story. Did you know my ʻaumakua, Kaipo, was who Ilikea was learning from? That’s why Ili’s so invested. I’m so grateful for her plan.”

“You are? Grateful for my plan?” Ilikea asked.

Lei elbowed her.

“Yeah, sorry, Makani was blowing so loudly I couldn’t hear what you said. Yes, my genius plan. Work of art, really, the way we’re going to get it back. I can’t imagine how you’d figure these things out without me. I’m—”

Lei stepped gently on her favorite bat-girl’s toes, cutting her off. “Let’s not keep Kaukahi in suspense. Clearly, she has a ton of work to do if she’s going to turn this mess into a masterpiece. No offense.” Lei smiled through her teeth at the girl.

Ilikea’s eyes widened. “Right. My plan. So, I was thinking…”

“You were going to lend me your necklace.”

Lei saw Ili’s throat bob but gave the girl credit for staying in character.

“Mm-hmm, I’m lending you my necklace for a very short amount of time because…”

“Because you had the idea that you may be able to hear where I hide it since it might call to you.”

“Yeah, it might call to me when you—Wait, you’re hiding it?” Ili started twisting her shorts double-time.

Lei jumped in fast. “I know, I couldn’t believe you even offered. You’re so brave and generous to help us figure out what to do about Kaipo. Kaukahi, you’re welcome to come with us. Maybe seeing your ʻaumakua in action will inspire you—in a fashion-y way.”

Kaukahi looked dubious. Lei went in to seal the deal. “Look, I know you have to get this done in, what, six days? Just come down to the farmer’s market with me. We’ll meet up with my tūtū so she doesn’t think I’ve been kidnapped by a hawk, then we can go test this theory down on Banyan Drive or Coconut Island.”

“Mokuola,” Kaukahi interrupted.

“Right, of course,” Lei said, agreeing to the traditional name for the tiny island. “I wanna go somewhere with water because of something Kaipo, my ʻaumakua, said. A change of scenery can’t hurt your flow, right? And you won’t lose much time at all.”

Ilikea licked her lips, her dark eyes darting back and forth between Kaukahi and Lei like her whole life depended on whatever happened next. Lei waited. Patience mattered when creating convincing arguments, whether trying to convince Pele or a snotty seamstress. Her tongue tapped the backs of each of her teeth as she worked to keep her mouth shut.

“Fine, just let me get organized,” Kaukahi said, pushing to stand.

She looked down, considering her outfit, then disappeared to the back room. When she reemerged, she was wearing a slouchy, off-the-shoulder tank that looked like it’d been made of old pāreu-type fabric—thin and breezy. Perfect for the humidity. The pants were of a similar fabric, fitted at the waist, billowy through the legs, and tied at the ankles, with slits on the sides up to the knees. She’d used an accent fabric as a headband-scarf and her goggles were still on her forehead as she announced: “Okay, let’s go.”

Lei exited first, followed by Ili. Kaukahi slung a fanny pack over her head, managing not to knock the fabric, buns, or goggles, and locked up, putting the apartment keys in the little pouch.

“After you.” Kaukahi gestured down the walkway to the stairs at the end.

Lei was a little unnerved having so much style follow behind her slapping slippers, shave ice–store merch shirt, and denim shorts.

And judging by Tūtū’s raised brows when they got back to the farmer’s market, Lei wasn’t the only one to notice the extra-ness. She just hoped her little experiment would get her some answers before the haughty, high-fashion girl decided to call it a day, taking her ʻaumakua—and the pendant—with her.