2009

Mom forced us to make leis for Kanani's graduation.

Forced was slightly dramatic but Mom meant business when it came to pulling out all the stops for her firstborn's high school graduation, so her level of intensity was cranked to the max. I don't know if I had ever seen her as focused as she was, organizing all of the miniature snacks into their individual piles, and separating the ribbon and lei mesh for easy access. Even if Mom wasn't giving Leimomi a break, for obvious reasons, she was also too young to care. Leimomi was a glorified ribbon holder at this point, but she looked cute doing it in her new dress so it was fine.

"It's me!" Leimomi said, holding up one of the completed leis.

On the other hand, I had been involuntarily enlisted into Mom's lei-making business, though it wasn't without a fight. When Dad had announced he was going to the store to pick up flower leis, I tried to sneak away with him as an excuse to do quite literally anything else, but my mom had caught me. (She threw a slipper at my back and scolded me for trying to leave.)

My dad had looked solemnly at me before darting out of the house before he could be forced to join. Solidarity, Dad. Solidarity.

"No, Hoku, you gotta spread 'em out. Like this." Mom held her lei up in front of me so I could see how she alternated different types of candy in each section.

"Mom. Nani isn't going to notice. She'll be too busy crying or trying to see over all the other leis hanging around her neck. And when she takes all of this out, she's just dumping it into a box for easy access."

Mom was not amused, even though we both knew I was telling the truth. "Don't make me grab one slippah."

I scoffed and went back to my lei.

Oddly enough, the one person I wanted here was the person for whom we were making these leis. She would have been able to distract me or make me laugh.

Dad had dropped Kanani off at her friend's house this morning so they could get ready, and then they had to arrive at the school before the ceremony to prep as well. It felt a bit like it was her wedding day and we weren't allowed to see her before she walked down the aisle. All of the graduates had to wear white under their robes too so that checked out.

I was the lucky one, though, because I had actually seen her dress already. The only one she allowed. She hadn't even gone to buy it with Mom or Dad either. They had given her a set amount of money and said she could pick whatever she wanted, and if it was more than that she had to use her own money to cover the difference, which she was fine with because they gave her the freedom to decide. Since I was no help when it came to picking out clothes, considering I basically wore the same outfits on constant rotation, Kanani went shopping with friends from school. But as soon as she had gotten home, she yanked me from my room over to hers and slammed the door shut behind us.

"It's perfect," she said excitedly.

"Well," I sat on the edge of her bed, "let's see it, then."

Watching her pull the dress out of the shopping bag and quickly tear her clothes off so she could put it on, I thought about how lucky I was to grow up with a sibling so close in age. While it meant we bickered in ways that hit a little too close to home sometimes—getting mad at Leimomi was different. She did normal child things that were irritating sometimes but I couldn't genuinely stay mad at her—I also had someone to guide me through things easily because we essentially experienced them side-by-side. Kanani taught me how to shave, how to use a tampon, and what kind of pads worked best at different times during a period. She helped me with my math homework and pointed out which lunch servers I could cozy up to and get an extra helping of food. When I wanted to build a blanket and pillow fort last year before Christmas, she stripped her bed bare without hesitation. And when I almost threw out my entire wardrobe because I hated the way I looked in everything I owned, she reminded me that I was just being mean to myself. You're beautiful, she had told me, even when you don't feel like it. You're not always right, even if your feelings are valid. We stood in front of the mirror, trying on each other's clothes and admiring ourselves while blasting music. Mom poked her head inside, smiled, and then quietly closed the door instead of telling us to keep it down.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized Kanani finished changing until she snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Hello. Earth to Hokulani."

I swatted her hand away. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

My voice drifted off as I took her in, watching as she spun so quickly that the skirt of her dress fluttered in the air. Seeing her on prom night was its own out-of-body experience. This was something different. This moment held more finality to it since her high school swan song. And though I thought I understood my sister's beauty in the most subtle of moments, which I also believed to be the most important moments in which to appreciate someone's beauty, she proved herself to go above and beyond once again. It was hard to tear my eyes away from her.

I was undoubtedly the younger sister here, but I had never felt more motherly than I did then. Maybe it was this incredibly silly moment that, while sentimental, wouldn't mean much later on. The snacks we had carefully arranged in her candy leis would get eaten and the flower ones would die. We'd keep the graduation brochure for a while before it collected dust or faded into a blank piece of paper we would throw away. Life would move on.

But I stood there and felt a surge of emotions rush through me, wondering if this was the first step into letting each other go so we could drift into our own separate waves, bound to leave just as frequently as we returned.

...

A blood-orange hue painted the skies behind Kaiser High School in a way that made it appear somewhat beautiful, something I would have never imagined could be possible before. As we cruised through the neighboring suburban streets, I watched the sky skirt in and out of frame, leaning every once in a while to get a better view. One hand rested on the door allowing the cool early evening breeze to coast gently along my skin, while the other draped over Leimomi's shoulder as she leaned against me, faintly snoring. My fingers played with the ends of her braid. Humming softly, I listened as Mom and Dad discussed where would be the best place to park and Braddah Iz's tender voice floated out of the speakers.

We ended up parking a few blocks over since they didn't want to park in a high-traffic area but also didn't want to have to walk far either. Once we stopped, I gently shook Leimomi awake and she rubbed her eyes, asking where we were. It took a whole five minutes to talk her out of the car, and even then, Dad had to carry her on his back the entire way there while I struggled to carry all of the leis, bouquet, and inflatable float for Kanani. Mom held the sign they had printed out with Kanani's favorite picture of herself at the beach a couple of years ago and some cheesy graduation quote in bold letters.

As nice and well-meaning as it was, the thought of my family holding up a sign with my face on it was mortifying. I knew that when I graduated, I was going to have to draw the line in the sand on what I wanted them to do for me.

Even though we arrived a little early, seats were already filling up quickly at the seating for the outdoor football field where the graduation ceremony was taking place. A large stage was set up in the middle of the field with blue and silver fold-up seats arranged in front of it. Matching blue curtains hung behind framed with gold stars and yellow and white balloons. Clouds rolled in above like bundles of white cotton candy inside sangria skies.

Leimomi tugged on my hand as she pointed out different things she saw that were exciting. We certainly weren't the only family with far too many gifts for our one graduate. In the crowd, there were multiple giant stuffed animals, most of which I recognized from Costco, an even larger number of inflatable toys, and an infinite number of leis, all in varying shades. Turn too fast and it looked like watching a rainbow up close enough to touch.

"If you don't calm down—" I whispered harshly at my sister.

She frowned. "You're no fun."

"And you're too short to think you can outrun me. If you calm down, I'll let you run onto the field to see Nani. Deal?"

Leimomi narrowed her eyes. "And I get to win?"

It was bold of her to think I was also going to run after her. I loved Kanani, but she was getting an enthusiastic power walk at best.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

She held out her hand. "Pinky promise?"

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and followed. "Pinky promise."

"Okay." Leimomi slowed down to my pace, which was funny considering I was over a foot taller than her. "Deal."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

Someone waved at us from one of the lower sections and Dad recognized them as someone he knew from work who also had a kid that was graduating today. We descended the concrete steps and excused ourselves as we side-stepped our way to our reserved seats. It was a pretty decent view near the front, so Mom could probably attempt to get some zoomed-in pictures of Kanani if she wanted to. (We knew she would want to.)

Out of all the students I picked out of the crowd, I either didn't recognize most of them or they weren't someone I knew well enough to say hello. Mom tried to hide it, but I caught her looking my way every once in a while, seeing if there was any hint of me socializing while we waited. I wanted to tell her that there wasn't, aside from Kaipo who I knew was still on his way. (His family was running late.) (He had a lot of gifts to give fellow football players that were leaving.)

She exhaled a visible sigh of relief when Aiko bounded over after managing to catch my face in the crowd stands. Our conversation didn't last long since she was on her way to sit with her other friends, but I introduced her to the rest of my family. They greeted her as all good Hawaiian families did—as if she was one of us. It was unlikely she had befriended Kanani since the prom after party where she told me she didn't even know her, but that didn't stop my mom from inviting her to my sister's graduation luau. Aiko and I exchanged numbers to keep the guise going, but I didn't expect her to follow up on the offer.

Almost forty minutes after we first sat down, music played through the speakers and staff started walking out onto the field. The principal made it up to the podium where he tapped on the mic twice, showing off his age because only older people did that anymore, before getting the ceremony officially started.

I'm not going to lie, it was pretty boring. While I could appreciate the attempt at being inspirational, it was hard as a freshman to fall into any of that since I knew I had three more years stuck in this place. Otherwise, it was a lot of obvious reading-of-a-prompt speeches that came off like someone reciting their grocery list. Someone who didn't enjoy life and only ate things that tasted like pure cardboard.

Once it finally came time for the graduates to receive their diplomas, that was when we all ultimately decided it was best to wake up again. (The valedictorian speech was the only thing I paid any real attention to.) Leimomi was decidedly more grouchy being woken up this time. One of us was going to have to piggyback her back to the car again.

About halfway through was when Kanani's name was called.

Since the entire school (and then some) were there to cheer everyone on, it was the greatest demonstration of just how known Kanani was. Every single student received loud rounds of applause, but Kanani was one of those select few who were welcomed to the stage to something entirely different, thunderous enough that it seemed to shake the ground. It was a wonder I could even hear my own thoughts with how loud it was. I watched my sister strut across the stage and pose for her picture with the principal and her diploma. Even from a distance, her smile was bright enough to warm me up from the inside out even as a cool breeze fell upon us. She wore her hair natural—long and flowy, wavy with just a tad bit of untameable frizz. Her skin seemed to glow under a dimming sun as if she had spent the entire day surfing.

Our parents jumped to their feet holding up the sign so she could find us. I remained sitting, smiling, and clapping, too speechless to react against the swell of emotions.

After waving at Mom and Dad, her eyes found mine. For just a second, we smiled at each other. And then she was walking back to her seat, and I found myself wishing I could rewind the clock back to when we were just kids and all the world was right in front of us.