“I’m sorry. I literally bumped into someone and had to help her—”
Theo smiles: all is forgiven. “It’s okay. I was just worried. Kai would kill me if I let something happen to you.”
“I’m ready now. Sorry.”
As if no longer willing to trust me on my own, Theo grabs my hand, giving me a look that says, This means nothing, okay? It reminds me of a babysitter holding a child’s hand in the supermarket so they won’t get separated. Together we wind our way down the sidewalk, weaving around carts selling coconut water and sidling through clusters of slow-moving tourists.
After what seems like only a few seconds, but must have been minutes, Theo abruptly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He drops my hand. “We’re here,” he announces.
I look up at the storefront. Tiki Island Decorations & Designs. Yep, this is it. Kai always jokingly refers to it as The Tiki Room.
I take a deep breath and follow Theo inside.
A little bell jingles as we push open the door and walk into the shop. It is a small space, crowded with wooden items stacked on shelves, displayed on tabletops, and even hanging from the ceiling. It is like we have climbed inside a tree. The shop is empty. Reggae music plays softly in the background.
Theo saunters straight into the heart of the store, but I linger in the entryway. It seems suddenly like my whole life depends on what happens next. I quell the urge to push back open the door and flee into the street. This is Kai, I remind myself. Kai, your best friend. But the nerves don’t go away.
Crowded against the front window is a fake Christmas tree decorated top to bottom with wooden ornaments—“hand-crafted,” a sign proclaims. Trying to distract myself, I walk over and study the display. Some ornaments are smooth wooden globes, surprisingly light in my hand. Most of the globes are painted with images of surfers, dolphins, ocean waves. My favorite ornaments are the wooden snowflakes, paper-thin, so delicately carved it is impossible to imagine an actual person crafting them. Maybe, despite the sign’s promise, these are machine- produced. I take one in each hand and compare them. It’s clear they are different: one has six narrow points while the other is broader, like a starfish. Could it be possible each ornament is unique, like real snowflakes? That would definitely mean they are hand-carved.
The bell jingles. I glance over.
There he is.
Kai.
In the two seconds before he notices me, I observe him as a stranger would. He’s carrying a plastic takeout bag—lunch, probably. His black hair is shaggier than the last time we FaceTimed, which alarms me. How long has it been since we’ve talked? He seems taller and sturdier than I remember. Board shorts, simple white T-shirt, sunglasses perched on his head. He looks bored: his expression is everyday, mundane, when you’re not expecting anything unusual to happen. Then he sees me and does a double take.
“Tegan?” he says.
I’m still holding the snowflake ornament. I raise my hand in a little wave.
His mouth falls open in shock. “What are you doing here?”
Before I can respond, he drops the takeout bag right there on the floor, runs over, and envelops me in the biggest hug of my life. Just like that, all my nerves melt away. His arms around me are warm and strong. He smells like fresh laundry and coconut sunscreen. I make a wish: to stay wrapped up in this moment forever.
But eventually, Kai pulls away. He looks at me, an amazed smile lighting up his face. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you surprised me like this. How did you find the shop?”
“Theo showed me.”
“Ah, so Theo was part of your master plan, huh? I thought he’s been acting kind of weird lately.”
I open my mouth to explain, but no words come. I don’t know where to begin. How do I tell Kai that Theo hasn’t been helping me—that actually, I have no clue what I’m doing here?
Unless … maybe he’s right. Maybe I have been planning this big surprise with Theo, and somehow I bumped my head and got amnesia and forgot everything that’s happened recently.
But no. That’s not right either. Because Theo was surprised to see me too—he didn’t know that I’d come here to Hawaii.
“I see you found one of my pieces,” Kai says, nodding at the snowflake ornament in my hand.
“Wait … you made this?” I hold up the snowflake against the light, admiring its intricate detail all over again.
Kai shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve been playing around with snowflakes lately. They’re fun to carve, and a challenge, because every one is unique.”
“Gosh, these are exquisite, Kai. I’m going to buy this one.”
“No, don’t—I’m making one for you, actually. I was going to mail it for your birthday, but maybe I’ll finish it in time to give it to you in person.”
The unasked question—How long am I staying in Hawaii?—lingers in the air between us, but we both ignore it.
“I had no idea you have such skilled hands, Kai Kapule.” I’m going for funny and playful, but it comes out sounding different. I blush, focusing my attention on attaching the ornament back onto the Christmas tree display.
“There you are!” Theo says, appearing at the end of the aisle. “I’ve been looking all over for you, bro! I couldn’t find Mr. Kenu either.”
“He’s probably in the back taking a nap,” Kai says. “I stepped out for a minute to get lunch. Things have been really quiet all day … until now!” He wraps an arm around my waist in a half hug. I let myself lean into him a little.
Theo smirks at us. “How come you didn’t tell me Tegan was visiting? This is big news.”
“You can cut the crap,” Kai says, laughing. “You got me, Theo. I had no idea you were in on Tegan’s surprise.”
Theo doesn’t need to respond; his confused expression says it all. Kai looks down at me. “Wait … so Theo wasn’t in on the surprise?”
“No,” I admit. “I just ran into him.”
“I was over at the golf course making a delivery,” Theo says. “She came running after me, calling out your name.”
Kai’s arm drops away from me. My throat tightens. Maybe now it’s all going to come out—our argument, our silence, whatever I did that made him so upset.
“T, that doesn’t sound like you,” Kai says, his brow furrowed. He always teases me for being so organized, for wanting to arrange every careful detail in advance. “So you haven’t been planning this for a long time? Did you come here spur-of-the-moment?”
“You’re always saying my life could use more spontaneity, right?” I laugh, but Kai and Theo do not.
I look down. Despite all the wood-carved artwork filling the shop, the floor is, ironically, not wood—it’s linoleum tiles.
Kai grabs my hands in his. “Tegan, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, pure panic hitting me like a train. “I can’t remember.”
Ten years ago …
“We’re almost there,” Kai whispered. His hand was warm in mine as we crept together along the shadowy dirt path toward our secret hideout. At my elementary school, I never held hands with boys—doing so would immediately result in teasing exclamations of “Cooties!” from the other kids. But, here in Hawaii, everything was different. Kai and I grabbed each other’s hands without thinking—when we went snorkeling and saw an especially cool fish, when the Popsicle cart emerged onto the pool deck in the afternoons, when I glimpsed a beautiful seashell nestled in the soft sand. And now, as we tiptoed through the descending darkness, it seemed normal to hold hands, to make sure we stayed together.
The last scraps of sunset were already fading from the sky; evening was falling quickly. Soon, my parents would expect me to come in from the waves. I wondered if they had noticed my absence yet.
I stumbled in my flip-flops, stubbing my toe on a rock. “Ow!”
“Are you okay?” Kai asked. “Do you want the light?”
I ignored my throbbing toe and tugged h
im forward. “No, I’m fine.” Kai had a flashlight, but for now it was in his pocket. We would turn it on once we were safely in the lava tubes. We didn’t want anyone to glimpse us sneaking away.
The day before, a lump had formed in my throat while I ate my cherry Popsicle, realizing how little time was left before my vacation ended. I would have to say goodbye to Kai. I would have to return home. I gave Kai the rest of my Popsicle because I wasn’t hungry anymore. When I tried to talk, I had to shake my head and bite my lip to keep from crying.
Running away was Kai’s idea, but I latched onto it immediately, thinking of my favorite book: The Boxcar Children. I’d always loved the idea of surviving on my own, building a home out of nothing but my own resourcefulness. Kai and I would have a wonderful time living in the lava tubes. I imagined us playing in the ocean all day, pilfering food from buffets at the resort, and sleeping each night in our hideout. No school, no chores, no parents, no rules. It would be paradise.
Kai had gathered supplies from his house: a picnic blanket, two pillows, a jumbo bag of trail mix, gummy worms. These he had placed inside our hideout earlier in the day. I wasn’t able to bring my suitcase; it would have aroused suspicion. All I had were the clothes on my back and the sandals on my feet. And my lucky charm. I reached into my shorts pocket and rubbed my fingers against it—a small, smooth rock with sharp edges and a point at one end. Like an arrowhead. I’d found it in the lava tubes the first time Kai took me there. Without quite knowing why, I’d slipped it into my pocket. I’d wanted to bring something back with me—some evidence that this place existed, that my experiences here had really happened. Touching the stone, I became a brave adventurer.
Before too long, Kai and I reached the entrance to the lava tubes. Our secret hideout. We crept across the threshold, and Kai let go of my hand to grab his flashlight. Suddenly, there was a loud THUNK from outside. Scared, I darted forward, deeper into the cave. My sandal slipped on the slick floor, and before I knew it, I was falling sideways. A sharp rush of pain. When Kai clicked on his flashlight, blood was gushing down my arm.
“Oh no,” Kai said.
I refused to look down at the gash. If I looked, it would only hurt worse. I gritted my teeth. “Do we have any Band-Aids?”
“I think it’s too big for a Band-Aid.” Kai’s face was pale.
This was bad.
“Here, Tegan,” he said, handing me the flashlight. “You stay here and wait for me to come back. I’ll run as fast as I can.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get help.”
In the flashlight’s glow, his eyes met mine, and that’s when everything hit me. We weren’t really going to stay in the lava tubes. We weren’t going to escape our fate. The next day, the sun would rise, and I would board an airplane back to the mainland. Kai and I would have to say goodbye. Who knew if we would ever see each other again.
It couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes before Kai returned, my parents right behind him, along with a medic from the resort. When they found me, I was sobbing. I’ve never cried harder than I cried that night.
“It’s okay,” Kai says. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
I’m not crying, but I’m on the verge. He can tell. Even when we’re talking on the phone, just our voices, and he can’t see my face, he can always tell when I’m upset.
“Do you have your phone?” Theo asks. “You could check your call log. Maybe it will jog your memory.”
I pat the various pockets of my shorts, but they’re all empty except for the pointy sliver of rock I slipped into my front pocket earlier. No purse. No wallet, no money. No phone. No ID.
How did I fly here without my ID? How did I end up in the lava tubes?
“No, I don’t have it. Can I borrow yours?” I ask. Tears are definitely welling up in my voice now. “Maybe I can try calling my mom.”
“Of course.” Kai unlocks the screen and hands me his phone.
I dial the ten digits as familiar as my own heartbeat. My hand is shaking a little as I lift the phone to my ear. I listen to it ring.
And ring. And ring. And ring.
No answer. The call doesn’t click over to voice mail like it usually does.
I listen to five, six, seven more hollow rings, and then I sigh and hang up.
When I try my dad’s number, the same thing happens. Ring, ring, ring, ring. No voice mail. Only endless ringing.
Frustrated, I hang up and hand the phone back to Kai. “I don’t know where my parents are. Can I try calling them again later?”
“Sure,” Kai says. “Maybe they put their phones on silent and then forgot. My mom does that all the time.”
Still, there is worry in his face, a question in his eyes.
“Tegan, what’s the last thing you remember?”
I close my eyes, trying to concentrate. “I was home, studying for finals. I was really stressed out. You and I made plans.”
“What plans?”
“That I was going to visit you.” I smile, remembering the joy in Kai’s voice when I said I would come to Hawaii. He’s been trying to get me to return ever since my last trip with my parents three years ago.
Kai’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And that’s the last thing you remember?”
“Well, it’s the last time I remember talking to you. The next few days were really busy with finals and graduation. My parents insisted on throwing two separate graduation parties, which annoyed me. I wanted to talk to you about it because I knew that you would understand how I was feeling. But I don’t remember talking with you again. Then I woke up in the lava tubes.”
“Our place?”
I nod. I explain how I thought I saw him and followed him out of the lava tubes and up the path—and how it turned out to be Theo.
Kai focuses on his brother. “What were you doing there?”
“I told you,” Theo murmurs. “I had to make a delivery.”
Kai frowns. “And you didn’t see anyone else around there?”
“No. No one. That place is tucked away—hardly anyone knows about it.”
My attention is snagged by a calendar hanging on the wall behind the Christmas tree, wedged between a poster for a community luau and a flyer about a surfing competition. The calendar is turned to July. Which is funny, because it’s June.
I point to the calendar. “What’s today’s date?”
“July 8th,” Kai says.
No. No. The last thing I remember is graduation, and that was June 16th. I’ve lost nearly a month? Where has my memory gone?
Theo meets my eyes, a strange intensity in his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay, Tegan? You don’t—you don’t have any bruises or scrapes, or, um—blood?”
Kai shoots him a look. All of a sudden, I understand what they are worried about.
“No,” I say, feeling numb. “No, nothing bad happened. I mean, if I was attacked or something, I would remember, right?”
Kai and Theo don’t say anything.
“I would,” I repeat. “I would remember.”
A look crosses Kai’s face, and he seems to make a decision. “Hang on,” he says, jogging toward the back of the store.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the passenger seat of Kai’s Jeep. He drives; Theo’s in the back seat. Before long, we pull up to a squat beige building with a big sign: MEDICAL CLINIC + URGENT CARE. The same place my parents took me the night Kai and I tried to run away as kids, when I split my arm open and needed stitches.
“Don’t you think this is overreacting?” I ask.
“I know this isn’t top on your list of Hawaiian destinations,” Kai says. “But we need to get you checked out, T.”
“But I don’t have my ID or my insurance card or anything!”
“It’s okay. This is a neighborhood clinic. My aunt works here. It’ll be fine.”
The clinic is exactly the same as I remember: small and empty, with light-blue walls and nubby g
ray carpet. It smells of antiseptic and pineapple air freshener. At least the room is air-conditioned. I collapse into a plastic chair beside a potted palm tree while Kai and Theo deal with the front desk.
I feel exhausted and embarrassed. Why can’t I remember anything? Trying to reach beyond my memory of that last phone conversation with Kai is like staring and staring at a blank piece of paper. Nothing.
The plastic chair is hard and uncomfortable. My nerves are on edge. I would remember, I keep repeating to myself. If I was attacked, I would definitely remember. But, considering everything since graduation is an utter blank in my memory, I’m not able to reassure myself very well.
After a few minutes, Kai and Theo join me. “It’s all taken care of,” Kai says, handing me a few forms to fill out. “Aunt Sarah is going to see you soon. Luckily, it’s a slow day, so we shouldn’t have to wait long.”
“Thanks, guys. For doing this. For worrying about me.”
Theo gives me a thumbs-up and flips through a surfing magazine. Kai reaches his arm around my shoulders protectively. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod and bite my lip.
“Hey,” Kai says after a few moments, smiling at me. “I like your necklace. Someone with extremely good taste must have picked it out.”
“What?” I reach a hand up to my breastbone.
“I noticed it when I first saw you. It looks really nice.”
My fingers slide down a thin chain until they reach a smooth, small shell. My puka shell necklace! But how … ? I’d lost it months ago.
I try to mask my surprise—I don’t want Kai to know I lost, or thought I lost, the gift he gave me. “This is my favorite necklace,” I tell him.
The door opens, and a nurse pokes her head out. “Tegan?” she says. “We’re ready to see you now.”
Kai squeezes my shoulder, and Theo gives me another thumbs-up. I stand and follow the nurse into the exam room. I would remember. I would remember. Please, please, please …
I’m grateful the nurse isn’t chatty as she leads me back into an exam room. She weighs me, takes my blood pressure, checks my temperature. All normal. Then she tells me she’s going to leave the room and asks me to undress from the waist down. “There’s a paper gown, to cover yourself with,” she says, pointing to a papery white sheet folded on the exam table.
The Best Week That Never Happened Page 4