by Noe Dearden
“That’s spam musubi. It’s good. Try it,” Emi said. If she couldn’t indulge, she could at least live vicariously through her cousin.
Charlotte inspected the rice-cake wrapped in seaweed dubiously, sniffing it with a wrinkled nose.
They were standing in front of the buffet table that Mrs. Kapono had set up for the Staley faculty potluck. Many of the teachers had already arrived bearing tupperwares of food. Charlotte had dressed in one of her new dresses from yesterday’s shopping spree. Emi thought she actually looked more or less presentable.
“I was expecting bean dip and cheese platters,” Charlotte said after a tentative nibble of spam. “This definitely is…different.”
“It’s torture.” Emi pined after the platter of butter mochi. “All my favorite foods in one place and I can’t eat any of them. Chicken katsu, pani popo, lumpia…”
“You know, you don’t need to diet,” Charlotte said. “You’re not fat.”
Mr. Miyoshi, Emi’s orchestra teacher, walked up to the potluck spread and interrupted their conversation. He was not one of Emi’s favorite people at Staley. He had given her an A-minus last year, effectively ruining her perfect 4.0 average. Sure, it was silly of her to care so much about grades, but this was different. If she had gotten an A-minus in Advanced Biology or English Honors, that would be understandable. But an A-minus in orchestra? Pathetic!
“Well, if it isn’t my budding violinist,” Mr. Miyoshi said, giving her a hug. “How was your summer, Em?”
“Great.”
“That wasn’t very enthusiastic.” He grabbed a plate and some chopsticks and started piling on the chicken katsu. “Have you been practicing? You know, I think you might move up several chairs this year. Five of our first violins graduated.”
“How exciting.” She could not care less about stupid old orchestra. She was only taking violin for her college resume.
“By the way, this is my cousin, Charlotte,” she said, changing the subject so she wouldn’t have to talk about violin any more. “Charlotte, this is the school orchestra conductor, Mr. Miyoshi.”
“Ah yes,” he said, shaking her hand. “Your Aunt Sheena was telling me all about you, Charlotte. She says you’ll be at Staley this year.”
Charlotte nodded.
“Will you be joining the school orchestra?”
“It’s doubtful.”
“Hm. Well, you’ll find your niche. There’s something for everyone at Staley.” He turned back to the buffet table. “What did you do at your old school? Sports? Student government? Speech and Debate?”
Charlotte became awkwardly silent, which puzzled Mr. Miyoshi. Even Emi was feeling embarrassed for her cousin. Her small-talk skills definitely needed honing.
“Or did you focus primarily on your academics?” Mr. Miyoshi asked politely to fill the silence.
“I guess so.”
Emi decided it was time to dive in and rescue her cousin.
“Actually, Charlotte’s interested in the visual arts,” she said.
Mr. Miyoshi smiled. “Ah-ha. Then you’re in the right place. Eddie Kapono is a national treasure.”
Another teacher called to Mr. Miyoshi from across the room. He looked relieved for the interruption and left with a quick reminder for Emi to keep practicing her bow technique.
“Why did you say that about me and art?” Charlotte asked abruptly once he was gone. “I can barely draw a straight line.”
“But you’re interested in it, right? Yesterday you were drooling all over Mr. Kerrigan’s oil painting.”
“That was different,” Charlotte said in irritation.
“Relax. It isn’t big a deal. We were just making chit-chat.”
Without another word, Charlotte walked away and disappeared into one of the back rooms.
What a freak, Emi thought grumpily to herself.
Unable to resist any longer, she grabbed a piece of fried chicken and stuffed it into her mouth. She was mid-chew when one of the campus deans, Ms. Brunhoff, approached to say hello.
“Oh, Emi, I saw your friend perform a couple weeks ago,” Ms Brunhoff said after they had run through all the usual summer vacation questions. “It was quite an impressive show.”
“Really?” Emi wondered which friend Ms. Brunhoff was referring to.
“Yes. Oh, what’s her name? Wait, it’ll come to me…Natalie! That’s right. Natalie Park.”
Emi felt her insides churn. She forced herself to smile politely. “Where did you see her perform?”
“She was in the summer school music-theater show. That’s funny you don’t know. I thought you two were joined at the hip. I always see you on campus together.”
“I didn’t get a chance to see the show. I was still on vacation in Europe,” Emi said, practically gritting her teeth to get the words out. The thought of traitorous Natalie garnering praise made her sick to her stomach.
“Oh, it was spectacular. You really missed out. I think Natalie could be a professional dancer if she wanted. I really do. In fact, I was talking to my girlfriends about it afterwards. We were all completely blown away. You must be so proud to have her as a friend.”
Emi needed to get away from this conversation quickly or else risk throwing up. “Sorry. I have to…find my mom,” she said, coming up with the first excuse she could think of.
She left in a hurry, walking determinedly through the jabbering crowd of teachers, past her mother who was deep in conversation with the vice-principal, past her father who was in the kitchen filling a cooler with ice. Nobody noticed her walk by. She pulled back the screen door and bolted into the evening air.
She hated Natalie Park so much it made her insides burn. Stupid, perfect, skinny, beautiful Natalie Park. Natalie who had everything and didn’t even have to work for it. Natalie, who Kainoa had always liked better.
Emi was so busy angrily kicking at the shrubbery that she almost didn’t notice Charlotte, who was sitting alone with her feet in the pool. When she did spot her, Emi took a step back.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same,” Charlotte said. “Or do you often come to abuse the plant-life?”
Feeling foolish, Emi stepped away from the plants. She observed that Charlotte looked supernatural in the half-lighting. Her pale skin was radiant in the shifting pool-lights, as if her body was emitting its own luminosity.
The warm, human sound of people talking inside was distant from where they waited in the dark. It made Emi feel lonely, yet she had no desire to return to the potluck.
“Hey,” she said with uncharacteristic spontaneity. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Charlotte looked curiously at her cousin.
“We could go to that party at Spitting Caves,” Emi suggested. “If you drive, I’ll give directions.”
“Your parents won’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? We’re not going to tell them where we’re going!” Emi exclaimed. “They’d have a hernia apiece if we so much as mentioned this idea.”
She extended a hand and helped Charlotte to a standing position. “They won’t notice we’re gone if we come back before ten thirty,” Emi added. “Once the teachers break out the wine, we’ll be the last things on anyone’s mind. Believe me.”
Emi went to retrieve the keys to her mom’s Lexus and they reconvened in the garage. Unfortunately, they discovered that some of the guests’ cars were blocking the driveway exit.
“It’s okay,” Emi said. “We’ll take Kerrigan’s Honda. He parks it on the street and keeps the key under the sun visor.”
Emi found his beat up sedan parked a few houses down with the doors unlocked. As predicted, Charlotte opened the visor and the keys dropped into her lap.
“What if he notices it’s missing?” Charlotte had the key in the ignition and an old country song began playing softly on the radio.
“He won’t,” Emi reassured. “He was at the potluck with everyone else.”
Charlotte stepped on the gas pedal and the
car lurched forward. It took her a few seconds to grow accustomed to the responsiveness of this unfamiliar vehicle, but eventually she was able to ease smoothly out of the parking spot.
“I didn’t see Mr. Kerrigan at the potluck,” Charlotte said. She fumbled for the headlights switch.
“He and the other art teachers were probably ogling dad’s studio. Get right. You’re going to turn at that stop sign.”
“‘Other art teachers?’” Charlotte said. “You mean Mr. Kerrigan teaches at Staley, too?”
“Yeah, mom helped him get a temp job. He was sort of down and out when he got here.”
“That was generous of her.”
“I guess. Dad was Kerrigan’s mentor in art school. They were pretty close, and I think dad wanted to help him out,” Emi said. “Plus, my mom loves nothing better than a charity case. One time, she actually invited this, like, hobo guy back to our place for lunch. She lives for that stuff. They’re her ‘projects.’”
Charlotte shot Emi a quick sidelong glance. “Is that what I am? One of your mom’s charity cases?”
“Probably,” Emi said a little heartlessly. She didn’t like being held accountable for her parents’ actions. Personally, she didn’t agree with their habit of bringing home every stray puppy that wandered in off the streets. “Get into the left turn lane,” Emi instructed.
They drove in silence for most of the ride. Spitting Caves was in Portlock, which was a good half-hour drive from the Kapono’s house in Kailua. This gave Emi plenty time to mull over Ms. Brunhoff’s glowing remarks about Natalie’s dancing.
Emi had always secretly disliked Natalie, even before the whole cheating fiasco with Kainoa. Though she and Natalie had always called themselves best friends, there was no denying the undercurrent of jealousy that drove their relationship. This rivalry was fueled in large part by their ballet instructor, Madame Inese, who was constantly pitting Natalie and Emi against each other in class.
During last year’s Nutcracker auditions, there had been a frenzy over who would play lead Marzipan. Emi had won out, but only because Natalie had injured her Achilles tendon right before auditions. That had been sheer luck. The fact of the matter was, Natalie would always be the better dancer.
Natalie had a “ballet body”: long neck, small head, short torso, flat chest, willowy legs and incredibly arched feet. Emi, on the other hand, was far too tall, and, as Madame Inese liked to point out, far too “womanly.” She had breasts and hips. No matter how much she dieted, Emi would never look as light on her feet as Natalie.
It wouldn’t matter so much if dance weren’t Emi’s passion. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life. She had been dancing for as long as she could walk, and she had dreams for nothing else. If her parents hadn’t disallowed it, Emi would have dropped out of school years ago to attend a real ballet academy on the mainland. But her parents had both said it wasn’t practical. She needed a back-up plan. She needed to play it safe.
Emi was so tired of playing it safe. But what if her parents were right? Maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a dancer. Taking a risk might mean setting herself up for years of disaster and disappointment. But without trying, she would never know. She could only imagine.
