Anywhere but Paradise (18 page)

The chocolatey goodness smells divine, but I’m in no mood. “Thanks,” I say, and trudge up the stairs. I recognize the peppy song that Malina’s singing to—it’s an Elvis oldie about a hound dog.

I hesitate outside her open door. “I’m here,” I say as the song ends. It’s a statement, not a greeting.

“Oh, hi,” says Malina. She’s propped up on her bed with a pillow, surrounded by her stuffed dog collection. A
Top Teen
magazine rests in her lap. “I’ve made space in the closet and emptied out my top dresser drawer.”

Neither of us looks the other in the eyes.

“Thanks,” I say, and cross the room. I open up my suitcase on her extra bed and start to unpack my few belongings. Malina reads.

The DJ on the radio spins another Elvis favorite and the song fills up the uncomfortable space.

I perch on the edge of the twin bed across from Malina a few minutes later. “I should have called you,” I say.

She reaches to turn down the volume on the radio on her nightstand.

“I tried twice,” she says. “I wanted to apologize.”

“I know. But I was too hurt to talk. I just,” I say and look right at her, “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about Kiki in the first place. It feels like I’m always the last to know around here.”

Malina twists her mouth. “I’m really sorry. You deserve an explanation.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We were. I mean we are. If you still want to be.” Malina reaches for a stuffed Dalmatian and gives it a hug. “I wanted you to like me. So I didn’t tell you I was related to her.”

“Oh,” I say, tipping back. “So you two weren’t secretly plotting against me?”

“Of course not,” she says, and tosses the dog at me. I catch it with one hand. “You really do go to the worst-case scenario first, don’t you? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think Kiki and I were the same.”

I lean toward her. “Well, you both are good dancers and like dogs.”

“Very funny. Seriously, I was trying to protect you when I told you to stay away from her, just like I protect myself. We’re not close at all.”

“We shouldn’t let her ruin our friendship.”

“Not another second,” says Malina, and we shake on it.

Big Wave

I’M WINNING.

“Park Place!” says Malina as I land on the ritzy Monopoly property that night. “Lucky you.”

The Halanis’ phone rings. “Kimo?” Malina squeals and leaps right up. Maybe it is.

“Dad, telephone,” she says, then plops back down with a sigh.

“Uh-huh … Okay … Got it …” Mr. Halani says, and hangs up without a good-bye. He calls Mrs. Halani into the kitchen and they talk so low we can’t make out the words.

Malina shrugs. “Parents, always a mystery.”

How true.

When they finally return to the living room, Mr. Halani wears his police uniform, and Mrs. Halani has her car keys in her hand.

“What’s up?” asks Malina.

But before they can answer, the loud wail begins.

It’s the siren.

And this I know—it’s the wrong time of day for an emergency test. This is real.

“Tidal wave alert,” says Mr. Halani.

My throat tightens and I dive toward Tutu’s blue afghan on the couch. We’ll have to leave.

“Let’s turn on the radio,” says Malina. She hops up and I follow her into the kitchen.

“Mama. Daddy,” I say, wrapping the afghan around my shoulders. They are in Hilo now. At a hotel next to the bay. “Howdy.” The quarantine station is beside the water.

We’re all in danger.

I want my family.

Together and safe.

Gone

LIKE MAMA WITH
her closet of supplies, Malina’s family is prepared for the alert. The Halanis act like they are in control of the situation. But my heart hasn’t gotten the message. It is in a race. It wants to leave. Now.

“I’m going on duty,” says Mr. Halani. “I’ll check in later.”

He hugs and kisses us all. “Don’t you worry, Peggy Sue, it’s usually a false alarm. But we have to go through the motions. Make sure everyone is safe. The hotel will take good care of your parents. I can guarantee one thing—it’s going to be a long night.”

I do not find that a comfort.

I picture Howdy crouched under the bench. And Daddy holding Mama’s hand. Be safe. Please be safe.

The siren blares a second time and Mrs. Halani walks out the door to get Tutu. She’ll be back for us soon. David is at Teresa’s, and since her family lives well above sea level, they’ll stay put.

Malina and I fill up a grocery bag with potato chips, cookies, cheese, and apples, and grab pillows and blankets. By the time the third siren ends, we call our job done.

“I should get a few things from my house. You know, in case—”

Whoosh!
The back door flies open. I scream.

Kiki rushes in.

“He’s gone!” she yells.

“Who?” asks Malina.

“Kahuna.” Kiki’s voice cracks. “Help me find him. Hurry.”

My heart pounds even harder with her command.

“Slow down,” says Malina. “Tell us what happened.”

“Maybe he’ll come home,” I say.

Grandpa told me that when he was a boy, he had a dog that went missing once. His family looked and looked for that dog for days. “Just wasn’t ready to be found,” he said. Two weeks later, the dog turned up, wagging his tail and asking for supper.

Kiki glares at me. “You don’t know nothing, haole. Kahuna hates sirens. When they go off, he hides. I called and called and he didn’t come.” Her voice catches again. She swallows. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

Kahuna

“KAHUUUUUUUUUNA,”
we yell as we run single file on the grassy shoulder of Hanu Road. “Kahuuuuuuuuuna.” But another blast of the siren drowns our calls.

My foot catches on a rock at the base of a tree and down I go.

“Peggy Sue?” calls a passenger stopped in traffic.

I pop up and brush myself off. “Mrs. Silva. Hi.” It’s the family Malina and I babysat for. The dad’s driving, and Kevin and his brothers are playing rock-paper-scissors in the backseat.

“Kahuna is missing.”

“The trick dog?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“We’ll keep our eyes open,” she says, and the car moves ahead.

I start running again.

“We should have left a note for Mom,” says
Malina when I catch up with her and Kiki at a cross street.

“Too late now,” says Kiki.

Malina looks at her watch. “She’ll be back with Tutu in about fifteen more minutes. Let’s divide up and search until then and meet back at the house.”

We scatter in three different directions—Kiki will take off toward her house in case he returns. Malina will check the neighborhood on the mountain side of the street. I will look on the beach side.

“Go!” Kiki yells.

“Kahuuuuuuna. Kahuuuuuuna.” Our voices echo and then fade as we run in opposite directions.

I scurry across Hanu Road and down a dead-end street toward the beach. The siren wails yet again, but it’s fainter here.

I’ve only seen the dog once. What if I don’t recognize him? What if I find him and he won’t come? What if he growls at me? Or tries to bite?

I wish we hadn’t split up.

I glance at my watch. Thirteen minutes. I can look for thirteen minutes.

I take a few more steps and stop. As afraid as I am of dogs, this is my chance to change everything with Kiki.

I want to find her dog. I have to find her dog.

On the Beach

THERE’S NOT A CAR
in any driveway. Or a person anywhere. But every house on the dead-end has porch lights blazing to welcome their owners’ return. That helps. If Kahuna is here, I’ll find him.

A few houses don’t have fences, so I peek in their backyards.

No dog.

I reach the beach access, a narrow path between houses that leads to the water.

I know what Howdy would do. He’d hunker down under my bed, or if he were outside, he’d scoot under the house or up a tree. But a dog? Maybe with all the commotion, he’s headed to the beach for some peace and quiet.

A big orange-and-white cat darts across the sandy path. I jump. “You scared me.” The cat keeps going, climbs the fence, and disappears. “Be safe,” I call.
“Kaaaahuuuuuna. Come here, boy.” I clap my hands.

I make my way onto the beach. Alone. A sliver of a moon hangs over the smooth water. It is hard to believe that a big wave is coming. But like Mr. Halani said, maybe it won’t.

My eyes adjust to the darkness. The sand is hardest next to the water. I take off, calling, calling Kahuna’s name.

But I can’t keep it up. I stop to catch my breath and let the warm water swirl and splash around my ankles. I sink a little lower into the soft sand.

The beach is empty.

I start up again, running, calling. A stabbing pain on my side stops me short. I’ve had a side stitch before. It’ll go away. Eventually. But it will slow me down.

I don’t know exactly where I am. It’s not like I’m lost. All I need is a beach path. It will lead me to Hanu Road. I can figure it out from there.

I check my watch. My time is up. I should already be back at the Halanis’.

I clutch my side and walk as fast as I can, calling, calling for the dog.

I spot a beach access and take a shortcut, through waist-high plants at the edge of someone’s property. I cut across their wet lawn, which I’m guessing has just
been watered, and head for the path.

My legs are bags of sand.

I reach the paved lanai next to the house, with its table and chairs, and take a seat. Palms swoosh overhead. The house is dark. The little bit of moon has disappeared behind the clouds.

I push back, stand, and take two steps.

My left foot slams into something hard. Another chair? My right foot tangles in something coiled. I twist and turn, but the cold, wet something won’t let go. A snake?