Chapter 5
Tuesday
The second day of high school is supposed to be smoother than the first, but it was obvious even from the main road that something was wrong at the school. Instead of splitting off to the junior high, Pano came with me to check it out. When we got closer, we both stopped short to stare. A crowd of students and teachers had gathered at the steps in front of the entrance doors, which were still closed. Principal Aihue was standing in a wide stance before the steps, with his back to the crowd and his closed fists on his hips.
"What's going on?" Pano asked. Without waiting for me to try to answer, he shoehorned his way into the crowd. I tried to follow, but I made slow progress in the thickening group. "Excuse me, sorry, excuse me," I mumbled.
When I got near the front, I saw Pano's hand snake backward around the person in front of me. He grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled me through."Why'd you take so long?" he hissed. "Check it out."
Now I could see what was causing all the commotion; someone had piled up ahūs in front of the doors, blocking access to the school. The ahūs were made of smooth, almost polished-looking rocks that had been fit together perfectly without the use of mortar-exactly like the ones we'd seen on our secret path. The largest pile sat in front, and was topped by a wooden tiki of Kono, the Hawaiian god of war. Its carved expression was a stern reminder of the dark, distant past, making the tiki's stony disposition hard to look at, and even harder to look away from.
"Menehunes built these," Pano said, crossing his arms. "They're sending us a message."
I opened my mouth to argue, but then realized there's no arguing with conviction like that.
Principal Aihue turned toward the teachers. "Let's take these down as fast as possible," he ordered, picking off a rock from the top of an ahū on the side. My heart clenched as I watched him; according to legend, dismantling an āhu will anger the gods and bring bad luck. Superstition, I chided myself.
Ten minutes later, all of the ahūs had been removed, except for the one in front with the tiki on it. The principal wrapped his arms around the tiki to test its weight, and then he hefted it up and off to the side. When he turned back around, I saw the tiki had left a long reddish-brown stain on his shirt. The principal didn't seem to notice; he dusted off his hands and threw the school doors open with resolve.
As soon as the doors opened, a strange fluttering sound came from inside. The unlit hallway provided no clue as to what it could be. Just as the principal turned his ear toward the hall, a swarm of black witch moths poured out of the open doors like a black cloud. Each witch moth was the size and shape of a bat, with purplish-black wings and grasping antennas. They circled the principal with blind, frenzied movements. He stumbled backward with his arms up, and then the swarm of moths became so thick, I could no longer see his face in the black, winged mass. After a few seconds, the moths lifted and disappeared into the sky, leaving in as sudden a manner as they'd arrived.
Principal Aihue stood on the stairs coughing like he'd been in a cloud of smoke. The teachers rushed to his side, but he recovered quickly and addressed the crowd in a stern voice. "Students, I'm going to have a safety check performed at the school. If we get an all clear, this day will commence as normal. Also, if anyone has information about who committed this act of vandalism at our school, please see me immediately."
Pano looked up, interested.
"Don't even think about it," I warned, imagining him racing to the principal's office to share his theories on Menehunes.
"No worries. Even I'm not that lōlō," he said. "Hey, it sounds like we might have a free day!"
My heart soared at his words, thinking about the double possibility of freedom and missing the Sanbello presentation.
#
I should've known I'd have no such luck. A mere twenty minutes later, emergency personnel confirmed the building was safe, and school resumed. On my way to class, I stopped by my locker and ripped off the 'Go Organic' button Auntie had pinned on my backpack. I shoved it under some books and slammed my locker door shut.
There was quite a hūhū in the hallway over this morning's spectacle. As I walked to class, passing voices buzzed with theories: "Who do you think did it?...the seniors of course, it has to be a senior prank...I dunno, don't they usually just string toilet paper in the trees out front?...Well, I think...-"
It didn't seem to have occurred to anyone except me that the vandalism might have been a silent protest against the scheduled presence of a Sanbello executive at the school this afternoon.
"I didn't think you'd be here today," Malia whispered when I sat down at my desk. "Did you tell your Auntie and Tutu about the presentation?"
"No way. Are you crazy? I don't want them coming here."
Malia nodded. "Wise choice."
We both laughed at the imagery of what would happen if they knew: both of them storming into the school, large and angry, with their muumuus all aflutter.
Sofie walked in the classroom, and I pretended to busy myself at my desk. After she sat down, I snuck a look at her. She was done up extra prim and proper today, wearing a lace skirt and closed-toe shoes, with her hair curled in long ringlets. No board shorts and rubbah slippahs for that girl.
When Miss Haka bustled in, I thought she would address the incident at the school doors, but she didn't mention it at all. Instead, she seemed entirely consumed with fitting in our lesson plan before the presentation. She led us at a furious pace. Despite that, I must've looked up at the clock every single minute, watching with dread as the day progressed.
At 1:45, Miss Haka called me up to her desk. "Lani, I can't accept your seat work. You'll have to redo this at home tonight," she said, handing back one of my papers. "You usually do better than this."
I looked down at the red marks covering the sheet in frustration. I hate it when I originally pick the right answers and then change them. Miss Haka looked at me over her glasses, and I hung my head. "Yes, ma'am."
After I sat back down, Miss Haka erased the white board and straightened her floral skirt. "Class, it's time for the presentation from Sofie's father, Mr. Gerald Lee, the general manager at Sanbello Farms. Let's give him a warm welcome."
Gerald was waiting out in the hallway, and we clapped politely as Miss Haka brought him in. He looked like an older version of Jasper, but with a clipped mustache. He was dressed in an aloha shirt so oversized, it must have been borrowed. The sleeves hung loose off his shoulders, and when he waved at us, I could see a pale half-moon of skin.
"Aloha kids! Please call me Gerry," he announced. "I'm so happy to be here today. As you know, I work at Sanbello Farms, the largest employer on Kaua'i. Sanbello is thrilled to be such an important part of the economy here on the Garden Island."
Gerry pulled the screen down over the whiteboard. "First, I'm going to show you a short film about our work at Sanbello. After the film, we'll have some question and answer time, and then I'll present an exciting gift."
Whispers filled the room. "A gift!"
Gerry pressed play and the film started. I recognized the narrator, a Muy-Thai fighter from O'ahu named Joel Waiko, who has become a local celebrity on the islands. Standing in a green field wearing overalls, Joel fixed the camera with an energetic smile. "Sanbello understands that youth are the future of the agriculture industry," he said. "With a growing population and a demand to feed nine billion people by year 2050, the agriculture industry needs talented, driven and passionate youth willing to make a commitment to agriculture. That's why Sanbello invests in today's youth by providing opportunities for scholarships, awards and internships, so they have the opportunity to learn and develop the skills necessary for America to remain world leaders in agriculture."
The film went on like that for a while, with Joel showing off abundant fields, classrooms of smiling children, and even a few clips of him in the gym 'fighting' for the future of agriculture. All thanks to Sanbello, according to him. I rested my chin in my hands and wondered how much Joel had gotten paid. When the film ended, Gerry perched on the corner of Miss Haka's desk. I thought his position was disrespectful, but Miss Haka didn't say anything.
"Okay kids, it's time to test your food knowledge," Gerry said brightly. "How many eggs does a chicken lay per day?"
Hands shot up. "Five!"-"Seven!"
"No! Chickens only lay one egg per day, and that's if you're lucky. Sometimes chickens don't lay any eggs in a given day."
I got where Gerry was going; he was trying to make us feel like food is scarce, to get that feeling of panic going.
"Some people think it's a good idea to label GMO foods- as if we need Big Government telling us what to eat!" Gerry chuckled, like he'd let us in on an inside joke. "I say, labeling doesn't make sense. But, let me ask you guys: what's more important to label, human food or pet food?"
The question was confusing in its obviousness. Malia raised her hand, "Human food?" she ventured.
"I agree with you, but the government doesn't. A bill was recently drafted requiring the labeling of pet food, but not meat for human consumption."
My stomach roiled at his phrasing. Meat cannot be genetically engineered, only plants. Pet food contains fillers like GMO corn, which is why it would require a label.
"Next question: What has more nutritional value, organic produce or traditional produce?"
I cringed, knowing this question was a set up. The benefit of organic food is not more nutrition; the benefit is that you're not eating dangerous pesticides along with your nutrition. I raised my hand this time, but I didn't get picked. Another girl got picked, and she shouted out, "Organic!"
Gerry's face practically lit up with joy at how well his trick worked. "Guess what, you guys? Organic foods have the same nutritional value as regular foods. The only difference is that organic food is more expensive!" He stood up and clasped his hands together with his index fingers pointed. "So there you have it, kids. We need to produce more food in smaller areas to make sure no one goes hungry. Food production has to make sense and it has to be affordable for everyone. That's what Sanbello Farms is all about: Helping the world to eat better. "
My face was burning and my hand popped up again of its own accord.
Gerry used pleasantries to ignore me. "If you have any further questions about today's presentation, you can visit Sanbello's website and submit them via email. One of your questions may be picked to be answered at the company's next public presentation."
I slipped my hand back under my desk. I was suddenly glad he hadn't called on me, because a pain shot through my head, similar to the one I'd had yesterday. Sweat broke out on my back as I braced myself for the crucifying onslaught of another headache. Thankfully, however, this pain wasn't as sharp. The real problem was I felt like I was going to vomit. I looked toward the door, trying to measure if I could make it out to the hallway or not, when my eyes swept across Gerry and stopped in surprise. Gerry's face was missing. His skin, eyes, nose and hair-they were all gone. I scrubbed at my eyes with my fists, but the vision didn't disappear. Somehow, Gerry had morphed into a walking, talking skeleton, a harbinger of death dressed in a borrowed red Aloha shirt. I watched his skull tilt, his jawbone move, and his finger bones stretch out to point at us as he continued his spiel.
I looked around the classroom to see if anyone else saw this horrifying sight, but I was surrounded by smiling faces. There were no signs of panic anywhere. I decided I must be having another weird vision. I steeled myself, determined not to show any outward sign of what I was seeing, because I knew I could never explain myself. Another minute passed, then the room felt like it was rolling. When it stopped, Gerry had returned to normal, skin and all. He reached for some baskets lined up on a side table. "Who wants to be my helper?"
"Me! Me!" voices called.
Gerry picked Sofie and two boys to walk down the aisles with the baskets and hand out gift bags. I accepted my bag while my heart was still pounding from my strange vision.
"You're each getting three different types of seeds, a sample-sized bottle of weedkiller, and a t-shirt with Sanbello's company logo on it. These specially designed seeds will grow plants with bigger fruit, and, when you spray them with weedkiller, weeds and pests will not be a problem. When your plants are mature, if you email a photo to the company website of you wearing your t-shirt next to the plant, you could be eligible to win a $500 prize."
Students chattered excitedly about the prize while Gerry picked up a long box on the table. "Miss Haka, I didn't forget about you," he added.
"Me?" she said, faking surprise.
"Sanbello would like to give you a check for three hundred dollars to buy extra school supplies for your classroom."
Miss Haka clasped her hands in delight, but when Gerry lifted the box cover to display the check, four black witch moths flew out. They circled his head madly, with their dark wings fluttering and antennae twitching.
"Oh my goodness!" Miss Haka gasped. She drew back and shielded her face while Gerry tried to slap at the fast-moving moths. Thinking quickly, Chad got up and opened a window. The moths sensed the fresh air and flew over to the window in spirals, disappearing outside.
Gerry's face was as red as his shirt. "Wow, that's never happened before," he muttered, looking in the open box as if it held an explanation.
"Well, thank you anyhow," Miss Haka said, recovering and reaching for the check.
Gerry composed himself and smiled at her, and then he clapped his palms together. "Okay, everyone, it's picture time! Let's pose as a class. Why don't you all throw on your t-shirts?"
Everyone else slid their Sanbello t-shirts on over their shirts, so I did too. I knew I shouldn't be in a publicity shot for a seed company, but I was tired from my vision and too drained of energy to go against the flow. While the picture was taken, my one rebellion was that, instead of smiling, I made a somber expression, hoping to convey I was not sold on Sanbello.
Finally, the last bell sounded. I scooted to my desk and grabbed my books, anxious to leave. When I turned around, I was surprised to see Jasper leaning against the classroom door, looking at his father. Gerry looked back at him, then tilted his head toward me. Jasper nodded, then turned and walked off. Were they sending each other a message about me, I wondered.
I couldn't figure it out. The flatness in Jasper's eyes had scared me, but I tried to shake it off. I've been imagining so many strange things lately, it's hard to know what's real anymore.