2009

"Can anyone tell me what they learned this year? Or what their favorite thing they learned was?"

I always found it hilarious when teachers asked us questions like this because they asked them so sincerely, and, yet, not a single student volunteered an answer. More often than not if someone did raise their hand, it was some kid who thought it was funny to purposely antagonize the teacher until they were sent to the principal's office.

Unsurprisingly, nobody in my homeroom class raised their hand. Since it was the last week of school, most students had mentally checked out already. (Myself being one of them.) And it wasn't a question any student actually wanted to answer, anyway.

The teacher took matters into their own hands and picked out students themselves. Most of the answers were generic just to get the teacher off their back. Some of them, the ones who genuinely enjoyed going to school, ended up giving interesting answers. Most of them flew past me, though, as most things did during my homeroom period. I was running late this morning after having slept through my three alarm clocks, which meant I was paying particularly less attention to this morning's discussion.

Of course, that meant I had the lucky fortune of getting called on as the last student before the bell was supposed to ring so we could head to our end-of-the-year assembly.

"What about you, Hokulani?"

"Um." I felt everyone's eyes on me. (Or it just felt like everyone.) (Most of them probably didn't care at this point.) My cuticle turned red from how hard I scratched it. "I learned that The Great Gatsby is incredibly boring and I'm convinced anyone who says otherwise is being paid to say so."

I hadn't considered I was talking to an English Lit teacher who likely had their classes read the damn thing, but they laughed so I felt slightly better.

"Fair enough," they said. "And what was your favorite thing you learned?"

If I sat there the entire day, I probably wouldn't have been able to come up with something interesting. But the longer I sat there in silence, listening to the clock tick on the wall, and not nearly fast enough for my liking, the more I realized the simple truth was the only thing that came to mind. So, I did it and watched as everyone turned to look at me, even the students that had not been paying attention to us before.

God, I hated being the center of attention. I never wanted to jump inside the mind of someone that did.

"I don't think I had a favorite learning moment," I answered truthfully.

They smiled politely, the same way any annoyed parent did when they were dealing with a petulant child. In my head and to my ears, it didn't sound that bad. My tone wasn't haughty or anything. But maybe my answer sounded different to everyone else. Maybe when I was forced to participate, I unintentionally became one of those antagonistic students

"Not one?" the teacher asked.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Come on, there has to be one thing you learned and liked that wasn't an insult to one of the most notable works of American literature, as valid of an opinion as it is."

My reply came quickly, again without thinking. "The only thing that comes to mind is that I hate learning in school."

"It can be tough adjusting to a new learning environment," they replied. "And sometimes our best learning opportunities aren't realized until later in life. Maybe over the summer, you'll be able to come up with something."

The teacher pivoted toward the board to move on, but I felt compelled to respond. "No, I don't just mean this school. Every school I've ever been to. I can't learn in a place like this."

It wasn't entirely true. There were many things I had learned over the years, but most of it was either unessential to what I thought I wanted to do in the future or had nothing to do with the actual subjects I learned. And as much as I still wanted to value that kind of knowledge, trying to peacefully exist in an environment that went against my very nature and hindered any personal development made me feel like a failure instead of the structure in which we were all forced to grow.

I probably should have just shut up. It wasn't a big deal. In three months' time, I would be in a new homeroom class with a completely different teacher.

They turned back to me with a whiteboard marker in their hand and eyed me carefully. "Do you think, perhaps, this could be due to your willingness to learn?"

"I don't think my willingness has anything to do with it. I love learning. I learn a lot when I feel comfortable. And this isn't some insult to an entire institution. Some people just can't learn in an environment like this, surrounded by a bunch of people who, mostly by no fault of their own, cause their anxiety to flare up enough that they are unable to retain the information they're attempting to learn." I stopped scratching once my cuticle started to bleed and hoped no one noticed it. "I feel miserable here all the time and I wish I didn't feel so bad about it because I'm not doing anything wrong here."

A couple of students clapped and a few of them whispered to each other. I wasn't sure if any of it was bad or a way to make fun of me. It didn't really matter, though, because the bell rang shortly after that, and before the teacher could dismiss any of us, students filed out of the door on the way to the gym.

Gathering my belongings from the floor, I slung my bag strap over my shoulder and merged into the outward stream of students. My bravery had quickly worn thin and I was now desperate to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. But when my teacher stepped out at the last second and asked if they could speak to me in private—not for long, it was okay. I would make it to the assembly in time—I cursed myself again for not shutting up. I was supposed to be exceptionally good at keeping my mouth shut.

"Are you okay?" they asked. Either there was a hint of condescension in there or I was imagining it. "You don't usually speak out in class like that."

I stared at them. "I wasn't speaking out. You asked me what I learned."

"Well, yes, but I was expecting something related to your classes."

"It technically was related to my classes, specifically that I didn't learn anything in them because I don't feel comfortable being in school."

They crossed their arms. This conversation didn't seem to be for my benefit. "There are only a few days left in your freshman year. I think you can keep an open mind to the opportunities available to you. There is a lot of invaluable information at your disposal here."

The effort it took not to roll my eyes was astronomical, but I wasn't able to dig myself further into a hole with it. "Sure. Can I go now?"

They didn't seem convinced, and with good reason since I had no intention of holding onto this conversation, but I didn't care. As far as I was aware, this school year had ended. I was just passing the time now until my summer started when I could finally be myself again, far, far away from this place.

...

"Hey, do you want to have lunch?"

I had already done a shit job today jumping out of my comfort zone earlier today, so I didn't stand to lose anything by shooting another shot. This time I had better luck since the other player in this game was my sister, though I had picked the worst possible stage imaginable. (Super Smash Bros. 75m bad.)

Since it was her last week of high school, everyone surrounded her like she was some kind of celebrity and this was their last chance to get an autograph. As soon as I tapped on her shoulder and asked, they all turned to me, taken back by my desire to steal away one of their final chances. It didn't take much time for her to agree, and as she walked away with me, wiggling her fingers in the air, I hid from their narrowed-eyed gazes.

It wasn't a conscious choice to sit at the table we had first eaten lunch at together near the beginning of the school year, but since I still refused to eat lunch inside the cafeteria and the clear skies and sunny weather had welcomed a plethora of students outside today, we didn't have many available options.

We placed our somen salads on the table and sat down. Although we hadn't done this often, part of me was saddened I wouldn't even have the option anymore.

"Must be fun, knowing you only have a few days left in this place," I said after taking a few bites.

Kanani looked around wistfully, admiring the campus she had called home for the past four years. Even though I knew she had had a much better time here than I was likely to have once my four years were up, I knew she was excited to leave. My sister had always come across as someone who mastered the art of high school but was destined for something more.

"Even though we're all meant to move on to bigger and better things, I think I'll always miss this place a little bit," she admitted. "Not all the lame shit—homework, mean teachers, overdramatic teenager misery. It feels like you're sitting there with the entire world at the tips of your fingers but you're still sheltered enough to make mistakes and not have them feel like they could ruin your entire life."

I smiled and picked at my food. "Yeah. Definitely."

It felt unnatural to consider someone like Kanani my total opposite because at times when we were younger, looking at her felt like looking at a mirror. I wasn't sure at what point we had started to drift apart, or, rather, mold into our own individual persons. There was a strange sort of tension between us like our energy couldn't decide whether to pull us together or tear us apart.

I wanted to understand her more. To know what it was like to think the way she did or move the way she did. Maybe, in a way, my problem was that I wanted too much to be like her, even though I knew so desperately that I could never be.

My sister caught sight of my thumb, the one that I had been picking at during class. "Hokulani. Again?"

Self-consciously, I hid my thumb under the edge of my paper lunch plate. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." She caught my wrist before I could pull it away. As she leaned forward, the front of her shirt touched her food, but she didn't even care to move, all of her attention focused on me. "You've got to stop doing this—" Shaking her head, she stopped herself from continuing. As much as it frustrated her to see me repeatedly fall into this bad habit, unsure of why I did it, she also understood that it wasn't as easy as telling myself to stop. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I get it."

"It's okay. I'm sorry."

She didn't. Not completely but that was okay. That was our thing—not fully understanding each other all the time but trying our best to.

"Why are you apologizing?" She laughed. "You didn't do anything wrong."

But I did. I had to apologize for not knowing how to take care of myself.

"It doesn't even hurt," I lied. "It's fine."

Kanani rolled her eyes playfully, though I saw the concern lingering behind the façade. "Sure it doesn't."

I tried tugging on my hand, but her grip tightened as she pulled it closer to her so she could get a better look. Deeper meanings aside, I knew it was a fairly surface-level cut. But I also had no idea how many I could accidentally do it before it started causing more lasting side effects.

"I think I have something—"

While holding onto my hand with her left, she used her right to reach into her purse. Kanani always carried around our mom's old makeup bag with a yellow hibiscus print. Mom had given it to her after she stopped waking up early enough to get ready for work. Said she had no use for it anymore.

Kanani pulled out a tube of Neosporin and quickly applied it to my cuticle. Like a child, I sat there and watched her take care of me, simultaneously embarrassed that I needed it but also soft at how nurturing she could be when we weren't trying to get under each other's skin.

Once she was done, she patted the top of my hand and let me pull back. "I ran out of band-aids but we can pick some up on the way home."

"You're not going out after school?"

"No." She grabbed her milk carton and squeezed the top open. When I didn't respond, she recognized my silent doubt. "I like spending time with my family too, you know."

"Okay, okay." I gave her a small, appreciative smile so she knew I believed her. After nodding her confirmation, we returned to eating.

"You can always call me if it ever gets bad," she said after a few minutes. "Like, when I'm gone. If you're by yourself and—just... call me. Okay? It's okay to ask for help."

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I was just sad I didn't take advantage of our time together more while she was here. Being faced with the reality of not having her around anymore at first seemed like an opportunity to discover who I was on my own before I actually had to live through it. Now, I realized how much I liked having her around. I knew this feeling wouldn't stay, and we'd fight a hundred more times and I would look back at this moment and think I was nuts for feeling this way. But then there would be those days when I would sit there and think about how Kanani could make me laugh in screaming color even when the rest of the world dimmed into black and white.

"Have you ever read Gatsby?" I asked.

Kanani met my eyes and waited until I nodded softly, barely noticeable. She caught it, of course, as only she could catch my finer nuances. "I've been a freshman before, yes. Why?"

"Don't you think it's so fucking boring?"

She laughed, picking up her fork again. "Did I not tell you about my end-of-the-year essay for English freshman year? It was all about how we as a society needed to move on from forcing every student to read the most boring, mediocre books by white men."

"What'd you get for it?"

If I could sum Kanani up into one look, it was the smug, confident smile she flashed me then. "An A, obviously."