Nothing Happened, But I Feel Tainted

#. August 27, 2016

#-1. United States, Oahu, Hawaii

#-2. Honolulu

Yesterday's game against Waianae laid our team's problems and limitations bare. And yet I wasn't disappointed in the slightest. If anything, I'd glimpsed an even greater potential — because every corner of this team was overflowing with room to grow.

And come to think of it, it had always been that way.

Which is to say — in my previous life, ever ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠since I'd started working as the offensive coordinator for the New York Jets, I'd made a habit of telling my players the same thing. Today isn't the best, which means:

"One day, you're going to be the best."

"Damn—! You're hopelessly optimistic, you know that?"

"Heh heh heh. Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one a lot."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"Sometimes you talk exactly like a fifty-year-old man."

"I grew up around a lot of adults. Guess it rubbed off."

"Guess so."

Since it was Saturday, I'd invited my friends over to the house. Sol-Jay couldn't make it because of his part-time job, but Marcus, Kaonohi, and senior wide receiver Royce Pao rode the bus down from the north.

My grandmother laid out so much food for them that I genuinely worried the dining table might collapse under it.

"Man, Marcus can really put it away."

"He's a lineman. He's supposed to pack on a few more pounds."

"Fair point."

Marcus, who dreams of playing center among the offensive linemen, isn't exactly built like one yet. Five-foot-ten, 280 pounds. Considering the boy only turned fifteen recently, he's plenty sturdy — but to become a center in football, he needs to get bigger. Or at least pack on muscle. Right now he's basically all water weight.

"I was half-tempted to tell him to try wrestling."

"Wrestling?"

"Yeah. You didn't know? The school's wrestling coach has been drooling over him for a while. Remember how he was sitting in the bleachers on Thursday? That was the wrestling coach."

Royce Pao shook his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head as if he'd just heard shocking news. So I shook mine right back at him.

"Damn— how do you know less than me when you're a senior?"

"Hey, I'm a busy man."

"Ha. Must be nice."

At that little jab of a phrase, Royce Pao laughed and slung an arm around my shoulder.

How should I put this — Royce Pao is the textbook definition of a well-loved people person. Not the delinquent crowd. The exact opposite end of the spectrum.

Right now, alongside football, Royce is signed up for soccer, baseball, and track — and since last year, he's even taken up golf. On top of all that, he's a student council officer at Kahuku, and honestly, watching him sometimes, I think he might be the busiest person in our entire school.

And yet he still keeps his GPA above 3.5 at all times. For reference, Kahuku runs on a 4.0 scale.

Anyway — when I first saw him step off that bus, I'd briefly thought, Wait, what? Is this a hidden camera prank?

"Whoof—"

Royce Pao stretched both arms overhead with a long groan. His eyelids looked just a touch heavy.

"Full already?"

"Yeah. I ate way too much."

"Now you get why I gain a kilo every single weekend?"

"Haha. Yeah — I believe you now."

"Damn it. Your grandmother cooks way too well."

"That's a blessing, bro. You should try my mom's cooking."

"It's really that bad, huh?"

"Don't even get me started."

For a while, we traded stories about our families. Then the conversation drifted, naturally enough, toward the future — college.

"I'm thinking about wrapping up the other sports soon."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. I need to focus on football alone. Ever since you showed up, the NCAA scouts have been coming almost every day. An opportunity like this doesn't come around twice."

"Then grab it before it's gone."

On any given game-day Friday, the lead story on Hawaii's TV news is always about me. And the first thing they report is how many college scouts showed up. Yesterday, it was around 150.

Anyway — that's why Royce Pao had decided ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to devote himself entirely to football for the sake of college. Hearing him explain it, I finally understood how he'd been able to come today. Normally he'd have been at soccer practice. And Sunday would've been baseball.

"I have to get into the NCAA. If I end up at a junior college, life's going to get way too tight."

"It does tend to work out that way."

"Damn. How do you know all this stuff? You're a freshman?"

"I did my homework when I was little."

"Damn— so you really do have a plan for everything, huh?"

"Hell yeah."

Junior college — a two-year school. Colleges under the NJCAA sit at the lowest level of team competition, which is why most players there dream of transferring into the NCAA after two years. In exchange, NJCAA Division 1 guarantees a full scholarship. The NAIA, meanwhile, is more competitively respectable than the NJCAA — its Division 1 is roughly on par with NCAA Division 2, so NCAA scouts actually show up to their games fairly often. If you're not chasing the NFL, going to the NJCAA on a guaranteed scholarship is a smart choice. But if you want to go pro, the NCAA is unambiguously the better path.

"So, hey."

"Yeah?"

"Let me in too."

"In on what?"

"Oh, come on. The thing you and the other guys have been doing."

"…You serious, bro?"

Royce Pao nodded, his face dead serious. So I broke into a wide grin and held out my hand.

"Damn—! Then let's go wreck some people!"

"Haha. We'll see about that."

We'd only worked together from Tuesday to Thursday — barely three days — but the results showed clearly in yesterday's game. Sekope, who'd sometimes run the wrong play or betrayed bad habits, caught six passes for 48 yards. Considering his first two games had produced just four catches and 21 yards total, it was, all things considered, his best performance of the season.

"Damn, at this rate I'd better recruit a cornerback too."

"Oh, that? Leave it to me."

"You've got a candidate?"

"Yep."

"Who?"

"Kaluna Nihipali. You know him, right? Number 40."

"Ah — you're close with him?"

"Best of best friends. I've been developing him since we were freshmen."

The cornerback position, simply put, is a defender assigned to cover wide receivers man-to-man. Along with the safeties, they man the deepest layer of the defense, and to play the position you need to be, above all else, tall and fast. If a team has an elite cornerback, he can single-handedly shut down an entire side of the field — which simplifies the offense's options and makes life infinitely easier for the defense.

Within our team, the best cornerback is Kaluna Nihipali.

"Still, it won't be easy, right?"

"Because of the Huamatu?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Loto got along with us just fine."

That was Wednesday, I think. Loto had come to join us — but Sioele suddenly started shouting, and Loto, unable to tear himself away from the sense of obligation, hesitated for a long while before turning back.

It would've been a genuine boost to have Loto with us. In every way.

Sioele still has a boot planted on my ankle.

"Leave Kaluna to me."

"Sounds good. I'll do that."

Pausing the conversation, I glanced back inside the house — and there was Marcus, still shoveling food into his mouth. At that very moment, my grandmother appeared carrying something more. The instant a plate piled high with food, mountainous at a single glance, was set down in front of him, Marcus flinched and looked up at her.

I'll stake my life on it. He was scared just now.

Well. He should be.

"Never underestimate the head of the Stone family."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Nothing. Let's head in. Someone needs to go rescue Marcus."

"Damn. You're making him eat more?"

"No. We're dragging him out for a walk."

"Now that's a good idea."

Walking back into the house with Royce, I first woke Kaonohi, who'd passed out asleep on the couch, with a well-placed kick. Then I looked toward the kitchen.

Just as expected — Marcus was sending out an SOS. I've never seen eyes so pitiful.

That's what you get for not listening when I warned you. What happened to that big speech about how you could finish it all?

Shaking my head, I grabbed the back of his neck.

"We're going out for a walk—!!"

"Don't stay out too late!"

"We won't! You want help clearing the dishes?!"

"No, it's fine. I'll handle it."

Aunt Mel came to the table, wiping her hands on her apron. So I asked if there was anything she needed.

"Ice cream. The Golden Medal flavor."

"Order received."

Since I was planning to stop by the market with the guys anyway, I grabbed my wallet, stuffed it in my pocket, and headed out. Marcus was burping over and over. I couldn't help it — I booted him in the rear. I just couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Idiot."

My grandmother's house is in a part of Honolulu called Aina Haina — in Hawaiian, it means "the hidden land." It's quiet, beautiful, and an absolutely wonderful place to live.

Someday, when I'm old, I want to settle down in Aina Haina myself.

Here in this hidden land, my grandmother holds something like a chieftain's position — respected by absolutely everyone. My mother is strong in her own right, but my grandmother operates on a different plane entirely. The most remarkable person I know.

I adore my grandmother. And thanks to her, I take pride in my Korean blood too — after all, she's the woman who brought a Polynesian man to heel. My mother can say the same thing, for that matter.

"Whoa. This place has a whole different vibe."

"Right? I love it here."

"I can see why."

When I was reborn after a life spent amid New York's dense canyons of concrete, and laid eyes on this landscape for the first time, I quietly shed a few tears. My friends seemed to feel a kind of peace here too.

Without a word, without deciding who would go first, we prayed. It's an island-people thing, I suppose. We're always quick to give thanks for nature and for the people around us — because without nature, human beings can't survive. Alone, we're a terribly fragile species.

"Everyone's sleeping over tonight, right?"

"Huh? We are?"

"You don't get a choice, Marcus."

"Damn. Let me call my mom real quick."

"How old are you, exactly? Seven?"

"Shut up—!"

Look at this guy. Built like a tank, acting like a little kid.

"It's not like that's anything new, though."

"Fair."

With a fond kick to the rear of my friend — hunched over, mid-phone-call — we got our feet moving again, away from the beautiful scenery we'd paused to take in.

A happiness I'd never once known in my previous life.

Man, I really do love this life.

#. August 30, 2016

#-1. United States, Oahu, Hawaii

#-2. Honolulu, Kahuku CDP

#-3. Kahuku High School

#-4. Football Field

Sekope, Marcus, and Kaonohi weren't at practice today — each had makeup classes to attend. So I focused everything on Royce instead.

"How many routes do you have total?"

"Let's see… five?"

"Mind drawing them out for me?"

Every wide receiver has his own way of running. We call those routes. And a route is generally built by mixing seven core techniques.

"That's about the shape of it?"

"Hmm—"

The gap between us and our opponents was so vast that I hadn't paid it much mind, but Royce Pao's route tree was a little thin.

"I'd add a couple more."

"How?"

"Don't invent anything new. Stack another technique onto the routes you already run."

"Hm. Then that's easy."

"Exactly."

Taking the pen he handed me, I drew two more lines.

"What do you think? Think you can memorize them on the spot?"

"…"

"…"

Ah. And there it is.

Royce Pao had gone and brought Kaluna Nihipali along. Sioele, naturally, threw an enormous fit — but Kaluna didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Interesting. Let's try it."

"Let's start with this one first."

"Got it."

For a wide receiver, routes are the most basic of the basics — something you've drilled since the day you first touched a football. So picking them up isn't hard.

"How does it feel?"

"Good. Nothing feels off."

"Just run it clean. I'll put the ball right where you need it."

Those words of mine are a magic sentence — the single most reliable way to make a wide receiver happy. From there, we kept training for a good long while.

Before I knew it, the sun was sinking.

"Let's call it here."

"I'll help you pack up."

"Nah, it's fine. Just gather the balls. I'll handle the rest."

"Really?"

"Yup. I live here, remember?"

"You know you're a little weird, right?"

"Behold — the great Stone hyung, ladies and gentlemen."

"Screw off. You're a freshman."

"Kekekeke."

The closer I grow to my teammates, the greater the influence I can wield as their quarterback. In that respect too, these recent days have been a huge help.

"I'm heading out."

"See you tomorrow."

Royce and Kaluna left the football field first, and I loaded the box of gathered equipment onto a handcart and pushed it ahead of me. I was going to stow it in the storage shed, then head back to the cabin.

But then—

Clunk.

Thud.

"Huh?"

The shed door had just locked behind me. And standing in front of it was—

"Stephanie?"

Stephanie — whom I'd honestly been thinking had been laying low lately. The girl lunged straight at me. Physically, I mean.

My danger-sense kicked in instantly. But — hold on. Is this crazy beach— bitch serious? Why is she trying to take off her top and her bra?!

I whipped my head away, then bolted forward on the spot. Behind me came Stephanie's panicked voice, but I ignored it completely, kept sprinting — and then leapt sky-high.

Stacked right in front of me: a mountain of boxes. Two meters tall, maybe?

The moment I landed on top of them in a tight tuck, I couldn't hold it in and let out a victory roar.

"WHOO-HAA!!"

I'm insane! I actually just jumped that?! Damn, I'm kind of amazing!

Leaving Stephanie frozen solid behind me, I opened a window ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little higher up and dropped down outside. From inside the shed, her howl echoed out.

"HEY, YOU LITTLE BASTARD—!!!!"

"That's what you get, you damn beach—bitch."

Frankly, I hadn't expected her to go as far as locking a door. But seriously — why would anyone go that far?

Disgusted to my core, I sprinted straight to the cabin and begged Tamati to make sure Stephanie could never set foot near me again.

"She pulled something again?"

"You can't even imagine what happened."

"Heh heh. Understood. I'll protect you."

"Thank you."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"?"

"The food was excellent. I'll be sure to pass along that your grandmother's cooking is superb."

"Hell yeah."

Before heading up to the cabin on Sunday, I'd packed up the mountain of leftovers for my friends — and set aside a separate container for Tamati. The fact that the fridge was still stuffed to bursting afterward is a secret. Just how big are my grandmother's hands, exactly?

The moment I stepped into my room, I grabbed my shower basket and headed for the bathroom, and I scrubbed myself cleaner than I ever had in my life.

Damn it.

Nothing happened — but I feel tainted anyway.

Still, I did walk away with one lesson learned: a high school girl who wants to date the quarterback and become a queen is prepared to strip her clothes off at any moment, anywhere.

"Ah, damn it. It's back in my head again."

Recoating myself in body wash out of pure disgust, I bent to pick up the shower puff I'd dropped on the floor.

Today was going to be the longest shower of my life. Of this life, I mean.

No — the longest shower I'd ever taken, across both lives.

All because of that damn beach—bitch.