Strong Like the Sea, стр. 48
“Maybe you come now and she gets the next one?”
I could go without her—except I promised Dad I wouldn’t go alone. But the whole reason I’m going is to solve Mom’s challenge, so shouldn’t I do it as fast as I can? I have school tomorrow, so it’s got to be today! “Umm . . .”
“Time’s up. You coming?” The bus driver grabs the lever to close off the stairs, and my hand shoots forward to block the door, but it’s no good. I pull back and stare at my toes peeking out from my rubber slippers. I guess I didn’t need to wear them after all.
“Hey, cuz.” The seat and steering wheel seem kid-sized in his strong hands. “No worries. The bus’ll be back. Maybe I drive you next time, hah?”
I nod and step away.
One of the ladies in the windows rolls her eyes, but most watch with pity while the door closes and brakes hiss as the bus rolls on.
Gotta admit. I’m not real happy with her. Kinda mad, even. And with Dad too!
Standing in front of all those watching eyes . . . I’ve never felt so small.
But stupid or not, I did promise. And if I break a promise, it’ll make me a liar.
The bus coasts down Kamehameha Highway and disappears around the corner on its way to Kailua—without me.
Part of me wants to check on Malia and see what happened, but she already has my unanswered texts. She can text back when she wants to.
I adjust my backpack and start for home.
Halfway there, my phone rings and Auntie’s picture lights up the screen. “Hello?”
“Alex? Can we borrow you?”
I shoot one last glance to where the bus disappeared. I’m not doing anything else. So why not? “Sure. When?”
“Now, please. Do you need a ride?”
“Naw, I’m just down the road. Be there in a few.”
I don’t bother hopping over any palm fronds on the way back. Instead, I kick a few and mash the others into the ground.
When I near Auntie’s gate, I can hear Uncle yelling before I even reach the gate. Sure, he’s grumped about this or that plenty of times. Heck, the first time I came over last week, he was ornery as I’ve ever seen, but it was nothing like this.
I duck through the entrance and hurry around the lanai to where Auntie stands by Sarge’s Barge with her hands on her hips while Uncle tugs a huge chunk of blue netting out of the sand. Netting is bad news, but that’s not even half of it. The storm washed empty plastic water bottles, cups, rubbish, Styrofoam, and all sorts of things up onto Uncle’s beach.
“A’ole, we go now. No can . . .” Wind and surf carry most of Auntie’s words away as she scolds Uncle. A few leftover plastic bags undulate like jellyfish as waves rush in and slide away again.
“Whoa. There’s so much.” That storm must’ve blown right through the floating Pacific rubbish patch and swept all this with it. It’s scattered across nearly every square foot of sand! Over by Hukilau Beach, a bunch of tiny figures rush about cleaning, but there’s a whole lotta beach between here and there.
Sarge bounds from one pile of rubbish to another and brings Uncle an old shoe, then a bottle. Uncle grabs them and shoves them both into an already bulging rubbish sack.
I’m pretty sure if he could find someone to blame, he’d grab them by the ear and make them pick up every last speck of plastic.
“Careless! No thought for anything. Reckless, dumb fools!” Grumbling through gritted teeth and his face red as lava, Uncle’s not just grouchy—he’s mad!
Sarge’s ears perk when he spots me, and he lopes over to give me a good sniff—which mostly means he slimes my leg. I scratch his ears. “That’s a lot of rubbish.”
Uncle stoops to pick up one piece of plastic after another and shoves them into the sack, his face getting redder each time he bends over. The muscles in his jaw clench over and over as he chews on all the words he shouldn’t say.
Auntie Kama taps her finger against the hull of Sarge’s Barge. “Matthew! You must put this anger away. Work careful, not careless. Come, sit down.”
Sarge shakes his head in a whirlwind of flapping jowls, ears, and drool, then trots off and snatches another empty water bottle to give to Uncle in their strange new game of fetch.
“How can I sit?” The bag of rubbish shakes violently in his hands as if absorbing all the anger his body cannot hold. “What if they hatch? How can they go through this—” He sweeps an arm at the filth-covered beach. “—on their way? No! I can’t allow it. All this must go.”
“No, you must go. Your doctor appointment is today. We need to go now or you’ll miss it,” Auntie chides.
My mind catches on Uncle’s word hatch. Is something out there in the water, waiting to hatch? I’m not sure I like the idea of some creature spawning close to shore. Maybe a kind of fish, or crab—or eel? Chicken skin erupts across my arms, and I shiver at the thought of baby viper moray eels wriggling out of their egg sacks and squirming through the surf. Just one more reason for me to stay out of the water.
“So, reschedule then! We must clean this up. It’s not right. Not safe . . .” Beads of sweat speckle Uncle’s forehead, his shirt and long, thin ponytail damp with sweat. “Not . . .” He staggers.
Auntie rushes close and steadies him by his arm. “See now? You need this appointment. We must go. And look, our Alex will help clean up while you’re gone. She can watch over everything and keep them safe.”
Breathing heavy, Uncle looks from me to the beach, like he wants to protest. “But . . .”
I cross my heart. “I promise, I’ll work really hard the whole time