Most Important Thing

Kaukahi was sitting on the futon working through “Nā Aliʻi” on the ʻukulele. Feeling ten kinds of awkward, Lei strode in, patting out a rhythm on her thighs and nodding her head.

“Hey! Kaukahi!” Lei said, like it was a total surprise to find her in there…her own room. “I’ve been replaying your song in my head but I keep getting stuck on the fourth chord.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s too hard for you.” Kaukahi adjusted her goggles and jumped into the next verse, Hawaiian lyrics flowing too quickly for Lei to pick them apart. After getting through it once, she placed the ʻukulele on her knee and glared at Lei. “It was absurd to try and teach it to you. Totally wasted my time. I swear, if I mess up with Dad because I was getting distracted trying to teach you something else that you’re never gonna use…” Her voice cracked when she finished in a whisper, “I just don’t want to hear ‘I’m disappointed’ from him, you know?”

Lei opened her mouth to answer but Kaukahi wasn’t done yet. She put her instrument on the futon and started walking around the room.

“Of course you don’t know,” she said as she tugged on the end of a woven brown belt, putting force behind her words. “Your parents probably think you do no wrong.” She rolled her eyes. “Little do they know their precious daughter is a non-visionary nixer of fabric stores.”

Lei ignored that comment. Let the mean-girl Hennley vibes just roll off her back. Kaukahi’s earlier comment seemed like the real issue.

“It sounds like you’re worried about letting down your mom and dad.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Lei felt absurd. Of course Kaukahi was worried! She had just said that. And now Lei sounded like a fool spouting out the obvious. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Kaukahi cut her off.

“No kidding,” she spat. But then Kaukahi’s shoulders drooped. “Seriously, you wouldn’t understand. Ili told me all about your awesome tūtū who can’t wait to spend time with you every summer.” She waved her hands, mimicking Ilikea’s wings when the bat got excited.

Lei blinked. She’d never really considered what her three-week-long visits that were primarily story times with her grandma would look like to someone who craved family attention.

“Sounds like you and Ili have been talking a lot about me.”

Kaukahi’s eyes widened, like she’d said too much. “Not like I care. I mean, you know how chatty Ilikea can be. Hard to get her to stop talking when she starts.”

“Sure,” Lei said, confused.

“You’re busy, I’m busy. I get it. My parents tell me all the time that just because they can’t hang as much doesn’t mean…never mind. And you and me being the same age and both knowing about our ʻaumākua? How much does that matter? I’ll tell you: none. It matters none.”

“Right, uh.” Lei tried to understand why the unflappable, cool Kaukahi suddenly seemed flustered, but Kaukahi kept going.

“Once I can show my parents that I can handle this, once we get this parade behind us, then maybe—” The girl blinked. “What am I even doing, talking to you about this stuff? You and Kaipo should probably get up to the forest. We need you to save the keiki!”

Lei was getting whiplash from these mood shifts but felt like she was on the precipice of something big. When she was about to bomb down a mountain on her snowboard, there was always one split second of resistance before the snow realized it was easier to just let go. In this scenario, Kaukahi was the snow.

“I’m going to go with Kaipo to mimic the kia manu in a bit. He needed to check in with Ilikea first, so I have some time. Your parents expect you to do a lot, don’t they?”

Kaukahi raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, I’m trying here. At least meet me halfway,” Lei pleaded.

Kaukahi grabbed her pillow and punched it into her lap. “Ugh, fine. I was just really hoping that if I did enough this time—made Mom’s dress the most talked about part of the parade, helped Dad perform his piece during the hōʻike—that maybe they’d want to celebrate with me. Maybe for once we could all just relax and soak it in. Not have another project to be working on right away. Just be together and happy.” Kaukahi’s eyes got all shiny and her nose took on a decidedly pink hue. She rubbed it quickly with the back of her wrist.

Lei hurried to the bathroom to grab a tissue and handed it to Kaukahi. “That’s a lot to have on your shoulders.”

Kaukahi sat up straighter, clenching the pillow like she didn’t like Lei’s judgment. “I mean, it’s expensive to live here. I get it. We’re lucky we have our own place and I’m able to get whatever fabric I want.” That sounded like something a parent would say, like something Kaukahi had rehearsed. “But it must be so amazing to just escape, like you do. Get away from all the work and hang out with someone who just wants to spend time with you for a few weeks.”

Kaukahi sniffled again. “I mean, is it too much to ask to be the most important thing once in a while? To have someone want to be with me more than anything else? Like, how many times do I have to hear, ‘I want to, but I just gotta…’? Even you!”

“Me?” Uh-oh. Lei didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah, you. Don’t even act like you haven’t been making every second of us hanging out about you. I mean, I get that you were just doing Ili a favor or something by, like, pretending to like hanging with me, but couldn’t you have faked it a little harder? I want to finish my mom’s dress, but you’re like, ‘I just gotta go find an island.’ I want to sketch some trees, but you just need us to find a volcano. I want to look at fabric, but you just gotta get to the kūpuna. You were right, not once have I ever been a priority. Not for you, and definitely not for my parents.”

Lei winced. How were she and Ili so obvious?! And, come on, she had been busy! It wasn’t like she chose this chaos. She’d screwed up and now she had to fix it. She hadn’t wanted Kaipo’s necklace to be stuck on an island. She didn’t mean to release the kuewa. And she most definitely didn’t like that she had to fix it all, especially since Kaukahi apparently thought it was no sweat and Lei just knew it was only a matter of time before she did something else horrible.

Lei wasn’t sure about Kaukahi’s parents, but she did know of someone else who wanted to be a part of Kaukahi’s life more than anything. “Look, I know you said earlier that Ilikea is just a bodyguard, but I really think you should give her a chance.”

Kaukahi sighed. “Even she couldn’t bear to be with me alone all weekend now that she’s graduated or whatever. She’s dying to get away and have fun, too, but she can’t if I’m stuck in the house all the time making stuff for Mom and practicing for Dad. Hence, you being willing to bring me on this escapade. Where is she now, huh? She bailed again as soon as we got back. She doesn’t even know that I lost my tūtū’s thimble at the beach yesterday.”

Lei noticed the lack of silver on the ribbon on Kaukahi’s neck. That must feel awful! Lei didn’t know how to help with the missing heirloom, but she did know how to help with the ʻaumakua. “Hold it right there. I am pretty sure the amount of wrongness you are about Ilikea would amaze you,” Lei said. “And for me, well, maybe there’s a little wrongness.” Lei smiled, a tentative peace offering.

“Yeah, right,” Kaukahi said. “I’ve known Ilikea way longer than you have.”

“For real, you should talk to her. Be brave. Tell her what you told me.”

Kaukahi opened her mouth—to argue or agree, Lei wasn’t sure—but she was interrupted by a loud thud from outside. Lei and Kaukahi both looked at each other.

Kuewa!