Getting the Band Back Together
Lei and Kaipo crossed to the sandy side of the street and nudged their way into the crowd to see what was going on. Under a tree by the surfboard rentals was a group of five rats, all chittering at people, darting toward a couple of families with smaller kids, then backing away. Around their necks were tiny cords with pendants hanging from them, blending perfectly with their dark fur. None of them seemed scared of the humans, and the cops seemed at a loss. One had a hand on his gun and had gone pale. Lei overheard him whisper to his cop buddy: “Radio for animal control, we gotta get them off the beach.”
“They don’t know what they’re dealing with!” Lei hissed at Kaipo. “We need to help. Those kids need to get back.”
Kaipo shook his head. “We have time. The kuewa won’t do anything yet. They’re just starting their transformation, not up to full strength.”
“Then now is the perfect time to grab their necklaces.” Lei looked around for something they could use. By the surfboard-rental checkout stand was a plastic five-gallon bucket filled with wax remnants. “I have an idea.”
She quickly grabbed the handle and dumped out the wax, then poured the rest of her fries into the bucket. “Rat trap. Totally humane. We’ll still need to get their necklaces, though. Once they’re in there, could you turn into an owl and carry the bucket up to a roof out of sight?”
“If they are foolish enough to allow themselves to get trapped for french fries, it shouldn’t be too difficult to remove their pendants,” Kaipo agreed, heading behind the police station to change into his owl form.
Lei grabbed a beach towel and sidled up to the rats.
“Hey,” one of the cops called. “Back away from there. Animal control is on its way.”
“Roger that, just wanted to help,” Lei bluffed. “We caught mice in our garage like this. They can climb in using the towel but it’s too tall for them to jump out.”
Lei put the bucket behind the rats, stuck the beach towel in the handle right by the top of the bucket, and let it drape out over the sand. Then she tossed a french fry to the rats to give them a taste. “Come on, friends. Don’t be as picky about the food you eat as Kaipo is. Fries are delicious.”
The rats pounced on it, then sniffed the air to find more. One by one they followed each other up the towel, dropping down into the bucket. As soon as the final tail disappeared over the lip, Lei lifted the handle. The rats were busily munching the fries.
“I said back away,” the cop called again. “Animal control can take it from—”
But he never had a chance to finish because Kaipo swooped down, grabbing the bucket in both talons. His strong wings carried him up and over the peak of the roof, where he dropped out of sight.
“What in the—”
“Whoa! Hey, are those dolphins out by the break?” Lei asked loudly, pointing to the waves. The tourists instantly headed for the shoreline, eager to spot something more exciting than rats. The cops glanced at each other, then went back to patrolling. Lei let out a sigh as Kaipo came walking out from behind the building with the empty bucket dangling from his hands.
“Oh, barf, you didn’t eat them, did you?” Lei asked.
“Of course not, those are someone’s ʻaumākua. And maybe they will be again if the family remembers.”
“Can that happen?” Lei asked. “I thought the Menehune said they were too rotten to be redeemed?”
“They’re too far gone to be saved by simply getting their pendant back. But I believe that if the family remembers, they’ll find their way back to each other. Families have long memories. Got these for now, though.” He handed her five pendants.
Lei zipped them into her backpack. They had to find a kupuna to talk to and figure this out stat. Kaukahi’s older aunty probably had connections.
“Let’s find Kaukahi.”
“I think I know where she might be,” Kaipo replied. “Ilikea had talked about her hana hulu—feather working—descendant a number of times. Ili was proud that her kāhili were in the palace and Kawaiahaʻo Church. I’m pretty sure that person is the aunty that Kaukahi was talking about going to visit, over by the musubi place. Let’s head there first.”
They started walking back the way they had come. When they turned down Lewers, they saw tiki torches lining the wavy sidewalks, and tall palm trees along the street. A small grass gathering space was filled with families playing in front of escalators that took them to the second floor, where Kaipo remembered the feather shop being. The storefront was dark. Lei pounded on the door, anyway.
“Hello? Kaukahi? Ili? Makani?”
Nothing. She turned and leaned back against the glass and closed her eyes. Great. They could be anywhere.
Kaipo cleared his throat. “Um, so I know I don’t usually suggest things like this and cell phones are a total impediment to forming meaningful relationships with people you’re presently with, but…”
Lei peeked at him.
“Kaipo. Spit it out.”
“Why don’t you call her?”
Lei cringed. “Not ready for that level of commitment. But I could totally text.”
She grabbed her phone, then hesitated. “One problem: Do you have Kaukahi’s number?”
“I think Ili programmed it in for you before we left the house. Go look.”
Ili had indeed, because there was Kaukahi’s contact. Lei quickly typed out a message, apologizing for being a picky, hangry crab cake, and would she ever forgive her. Way easier to type it all from the safety of a phone than do it face-to-face in all her awkward glory and uncomfortable eye contact.
Silence. Lei chewed her lip, waiting for the three dots that would indicate Kaukahi’s potential acceptance of her peace offering.
“Maybe ask if she knows when her aunty opens the shop tomorrow?” Kaipo suggested.
Lei typed it out.
Silence.
“Maybe ask if she knows where the best place to get musubi is?”
Lei glared at Kaipo.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. Not funny.”
Lei typed something into her phone and Kaipo tried to look over her shoulder.
“What are you saying?”
She held up her phone.
Lei: I can’t remember Nā Aliʻi. It goes C, F, G7, then what again?
Kaipo grinned. “I see what you did there, Miss ‘Get the Band Back Together.’ Way to speak her language.”
They waited and then, finally, the magical three dots appeared at the bottom of her screen.
Lei grabbed Kaipo’s forearm. “Yes! We got her.”
“Great, what’s she say?” Kaipo asked.
“She’s typing.”
The three dots disappeared…then they reappeared. Then they disappeared again.
“What is she doing? Is she typing something long? Is it not coming through?”
“Shush, I don’t know,” Lei confessed, her own fingers hovering over the keyboard, tempted to type but not wanting to interrupt. Her stomach was in knots waiting to see Kaukahi’s response.
There! “She says I’m completely transparent. That she knows I’m just trying to get her to talk to me.” Lei gulped. The three dots were back. She knew she couldn’t push this.
“Just say you’re sorry again,” Kaipo replied, acting like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like texting wasn’t the ultimate game of strategy and nuance. That the tiniest of things, like whether or not a period was included, could reflect a person’s mood. Kaukahi seemed to text like she talked—sharp and pointy sentences full of proper punctuation.
“Patience!” Lei hissed, eyes trained on the screen.
Kaukahi: The next note is D7.
Kaukahi: But in answer to what you really want to know, my aunty and I are right below you, across the street at the benches. We’re eating musubi.
Lei’s eyes shot from the bright screen to the sidewalk below. There were two hands waving at them. This was going to work.
Kaukahi and her aunty sat on a wooden bench pressed against the glass wall of the musubi store. Kaukahi’s backpack and her aunty’s big tote bag were in between them.
“Aunty, this is Lei,” Kaukahi said, begrudgingly introducing them. “Lei, this is Aunty Lori.”
“Howzit,” Aunty Lori said, stretching her neck up.
Lei bent down to press her cheek to Aunty’s soft cheek and kiss the air. The older woman had some sort of comb with bright yellow feathers on it stuck in the side of her hair, perched like a plumy fan. It matched the yellow flowers on her shirt. Kaukahi looked more put together than the last time Lei saw her, in a black short-sleeve shirt with a belt-and-buckle system around her ribs, knee-length black skirt, black fishnets, and black Doc Martens. It would have been very intimidating if not for the rainbow tulle peeking out from the bottom of the skirt. Lei wondered if it was a nod to their adventure last night (and also, where the heck did she get all those clothes?). Her space buns were tidied up and the goggles were still firmly in place on her forehead. They were almost pau with their musubi. The mature thing to do would be to address the whale in the room and apologize directly to Kaukahi. It’s what Kaipo would want. It’s what Tūtū would expect.
Instead, Lei struck up a conversation with Aunty Lori like a coward while her insides churned and roiled and threatened to cast up her pancakes.
“Hi, um, howzit. Kaukahi says you do featherwork?” She glanced over at Kaukahi quickly. See how polite I am? I’m totally all about the greater community! Or is thinking about what I’m doing negating the goodness of it? Lei pulled herself out of her brain twister to listen to Aunty’s response.
“Oh yeah, been doing it for forever. But what Kahi-girl tells me about you is way more interesting. Sounds like you folks have had quite the adventure, huh?”
The hairs on the back of Lei’s neck raised at the mention, like somehow talking about it right here in the heart of Waikīkī would draw the spirits to them. She swallowed. “Yeah, it’s been a wild few days. Did she mention we’re kinda needing some help figuring out what to do about a bunch of kuewa?”
“Yeah, she mentioned something like that.” Aunty and Kaukahi exchanged a look. Lei wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was pretty sure it didn’t mean, “Oh, we solved all the problems, and this is a piece of cake. Let’s go get some malasadas.”
“We’re gonna head to Aunty Kaipuala’s place out Hanohano Homestead on the west side. It’s her ninety-sixth birthday so they’re throwing a big pāʻina at the beach and all the kūpuna will be there for us to ask,” Kaukahi explained, focused on the Saran Wrap her musubi came in rather than meeting Lei’s eyes.
Lei nodded, happy to have a plan but still feeling bad for earlier. Going through the motions wasn’t enough for her anymore. She needed Kaukahi to know she was really here. Part of the band.
“Aunty says she can drive us,” Kaukahi continued. “It’s a ways away, so we should get going.”
She threw the plastic wrap in a nearby rubbish can and grabbed her backpack. Lei touched her wrist, willing the girl to meet her eyes.
“Okay, thanks. And, Kaukahi? About before…,” Lei said softly, snapping the hair band on her wrist. It was now or never. As soon as Kaukahi looked up, Lei said, “Sorry about the whole musubi thing. And I do want to help you figure out dresses or music or just be here to listen. Whatever you need, after we figure out this kuewa thing and…you know…save the kids. Just come back on the seesaw and help us balance.”
Kaukahi blinked, quiet for a second as if considering. Or maybe she was being a good listener. Lei quickly thought of what else to say, aware of the eyes on her, but when she opened her mouth to make something up—beg for forgiveness even more if she had to—Kaukahi gave a curt nod.
“Let’s figure this out now. The rest will be what it’ll be.”
Lei smiled, not having any idea how they’d ever have time to deal with the dress. At least she had help for now.
“Kaipo, you coming?” Kaukahi asked.
“Well, I’m not about to let you two go without…” His eyes darted to Aunty Lori. “…without me.” He clenched his jaw like he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how much he could say in front of the lady.
“Kaipo, Aunty is helping us find kūpuna to talk about rotting kuewa. Pretty sure you can talk about ʻaumākua if you wanted and she wouldn’t bat an eye.” Kaukahi grinned at her aunty, who cackled.
Kaipo grinned, too. “Noted. Speaking of bats, did Ilikea head off with Makani?”
Kaukahi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, they said they had to go do something. Do you know what that was about?”
“Nothing serious,” Lei said. “I just wanted her to check on Tūtū for me. Keep her up-to-date. Didn’t want to risk a call since there are so many folks that could overhear.” She didn’t want to get Kaukahi’s hopes up if Ilikea and Makani weren’t able to manage carrying all the sewing stuff.
Kaukahi nodded like it made sense. She stood and put her bag on her back. Aunty Lori grabbed her tote.
“We go?” Aunty Lori asked.
“We go,” the three answered.
The drive to the west side of the island took over an hour. Kaukahi kept the black shirt but changed into slippers and shorts in the car, telling Lei she had asked her aunty to bring some of her clothes from Aunty’s house (“No way could I fit enough clothing options in a suitcase when we come to visit, so she lets me use a dresser at her place.”). At one point Kaukahi spied a fabric store that promised unique Hawaiian fabrics.
“Can we stop real quick? They might have an accent piece that’d tie Mom’s dress together.”
Aunty Lori started slowing the car to turn, but Lei stopped her. “Maybe we can do it on the way home. Let’s just get the info we need first.”
Lei caught Kaukahi’s eyes narrowing before the girl turned to look out the window. Yes, Lei knew that she said she’d help with the dress and listen more, but surely that didn’t involve side shopping trips, right? The urgency pounded in her ears like a drum, pushing her to hurry up and solve this so they could finally relax. With Kaipo’s forgiveness, Lei could feel her first decent night of sleep in over a week beckoning. The itching need for action would probably disappear once her head hit the pillow. Probably.
In her deepest, darkest brain crevice, a quiet voice said: You don’t deserve his forgiveness after what you put him through.
But she found the necklace. Everything would be fine. She fixedly ignored the voice by staring out the window.
Finally, the car left the last of the resorts in the rearview mirror, rounded the bend, and slowed down again. Aunty rolled down the windows as they cruised past a long stretch of beach on their left—the ocean glistening in the sun, white sand stuck like a strip of tape between exposed reef in the shore break and a low rock wall nestled in grasses close to the road. Lei’s knees bounced in a nervous rhythm. On the right-hand side were rolling hills spotted with trees and free from development. Along the road and stretching back into valleys were low houses without any of the excess architectural flounces and flair that were common in Lei’s subdivision back in Colorado.
They followed a pickup truck with surfboards propped up in its bed and a big yellow-red-and-green flag waving off the back down to a beach area crowded with pop-up tents.
Aunty found a space in the parking lot between two trucks, and the four of them climbed out. Lei fell behind Kaipo, feeling more haole than ever as she looked around at all the smiling brown faces. Even the two kids who were lighter than her screamed local! in their black slippers and towels tucked around their waists, holding plates of food and laughing at something someone said.
Everyone here stood a little taller. Their stances were a little wider, chins a little higher, and their arms (when not holding stringed instruments or plates of food or babies) hovered at their sides, a couple inches from their body, in a way that made them look equally prepared to hug or fight at the drop of a dime. The mouthwatering smell of teriyaki chicken grilling on the hibachi mingled with the sweet fragrance of lei piled high around the neck of an older woman sitting in a folding chair. Adults stood a few paces away, phones aimed for taking photos as they called directions over one another to move this way or that and smile. Over in the water, people were playing in the surf. One guy caught a wave in a push-up position, his elbows locked and hands braced on something just under the surface of the water that Lei couldn’t see.
Lei looked to Kaukahi to see how the fashionista was dealing with being out of place. It’d be nice to have someone to feel awkward with. Lei’d be shocked if anyone here in their tank tops and pāreus, sports bras and T-shirts, would know the difference between chambray and chiffon.
Her heart sank as she watched Kaukahi effortlessly make the rounds. The girl finished her circle, “Aloha, Aunty” and “Howzit, Unko” flowing from her lips, then sank into a chair with a group of musicians—one guy held spoons!—and pulled her ʻukulele out to join in. Lei sighed. If they were going to get any information, she had better step out from behind Kaipo and start asking questions. But as soon as she made her move, Kaipo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
Lei’s cheeks flamed red-hot, and she lowered her eyes to the grass. Was he embarrassed of her?