Page 15 of The Wrong Sister
11
mina
11 years ago
Things have been a little different, slightly strained, since we heard our parents talking about Catherine and Griffin getting married one day. I don’t think we mean it to be, but it is all the same. I don’t want to be mad at Griffin for something that is out of his control but I can’t seem to help being angry. It’s my default. Anger is easy. Uncomplicated. I guess I’m most angry that he doesn’t look at me. Although, I wouldn’t want him to look at me the way he looks at Catherine either. He looks at her like he is a bit afraid of her. Like she’s an inevitable duty. I don’t want him to be afraid of me or to dread the thought of me. I do wish he would notice that I’m a girl. Or thatsomeonewould. Anyone, really. I’m 14 years old and I’m freaking tired of being ‘Catherine’s little sister.’ Maybe if Catherine wasn’t so perfect. Or beautiful. Or sweet and quiet and likable. Everything I’m not.
I study myself in the long mirror hanging on the wall of the bedroom Catherine and I share. She’s grown a lot over the last couple of years—tall and thin with long legs and natural grace. I turn sideways, inspecting myself. I’m tiny. All over. I’m short, my limbs are small, my features are small…I’m finally developing, sort of, but even my boobs are tiny. I look like a little kid. Dad says my features areelfin. I’m pretty sure that’s a dumb dad way to say childish. I try to arrange my dark brown hair in a more girly style, but it’s thick and straight and won’t do anything but fall in a big mass around me. Catherine’s hair is golden and wavy. It’s the same color as the cute freckles that pepper the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones. Maybe I’ll grow this year. I frown in the mirror, pouting my full lips that look like Moms. Screw it.Fuck it.I get a little thrill at the curse word. The mirror is making me angrier.
I stomp through the house, taking pleasure in the sound of my footsteps ringing out. Kicking the front door open, I jump out onto the front steps. I can see Rafferty’s big feet stretching out from their front steps. I start up their stairs but stop halfway when I realize those are Catherine’s feet next to his. She’s sniffling. I’m immediately on guard. I may be insanely jealous of Catherine, but no one better mess with my sister. I listen closely, hoping to hear who I need to yell at.
“Makani overheard me complaining to the teacher about the fact that Kahuku High doesn’t have a math club. I’d like more opportunities to challenge myself and the competitions sound fun. He’s been making fun of me all week, cracking jokes about the lu‘ulu‘u haole.” I get low and crawl up a few more steps until I can see their reflections in the sliding glass doors without being seen.
Rafferty has his arm around Catherine’s shoulders. He’s a few inches taller than she is now, although his latest growth spurt has left him long and gangly. I call him Scarecrow every time he calls me Teeny.
“You’re not boring, Catherine, and he’s a jerk to call you a haole. Just be who you are. There’s nothing wrong with liking math.”
Catherine sniffles again, wiping at her face. “That’s what Dad would say. And then he’d probably point out that Mina would never let a dumb guy make her cry.”
“That’s true. But that’s not because Mina is better than you. Mina knows who she is and she’s strong enough to be ok with it. I think you could be too.” His voice cracks a little and I stifle a snicker, not wanting to be caught.
“I’m not. She’s much stronger than I am.”
“Whether or not that is true isn’t the point. It’s not about how strong Mina is.Youare strong enough to be proud of who you are. You can’t let an asshole like Makani make you feel ashamed of the things that make you special. Don’t apologize for being you and don’t dumb yourself down to fit in. You’re better than that.”
I slip back down the stairs, thinking about what Rafferty said. He’s much smarter and wiser than he gets credit for. He’s also right that Catherine shouldn’t let some jerk make her feel bad for being smart and liking math. But I never knew he thought that about me. I walk down our street, my mind mulling it all over. The way Rafferty was looking at Catherine, the way he sees me…he’s not right about me, though. Raff thinks I’m strong enough to be happy with who I am, but I was just in my bedroom, comparing myself to Catherine and wishing I was different. I’m passing the big house on the corner when I hear yelling. It’s coming from the ‘ohana unit behind the main house. A woman is coming towards me, dark hair wild and gold bracelets jingling together on her wrist. I’ve heard neighborhood kids calling her Auntie Lolo, but I don’t think that’s actually her name. I wait for her to reach me.
“I see you, huhu girl, always stomping.”
“Huhu?” I don’t know what that means.
“Angry. You angry, girl.” I don’t want to agree with that, but I know she’s right and she must see that. “Good. Own it. Take it from Auntie Lolo.”
“Is that your name?” I blurt out in shock. “I thought that was kids being mean.”
“It was, but I claim it. It’s mine now. Come.” She starts walking back towards her little house. “I have cookies.”
I follow her with a shrug. Even if kids are rude, she’s still a neighborhood auntie. It’s not like I have anything to worry about. I’ve always wanted to see inside her house anyway. The interior is cozy, filled with cool art and knickknacks with books everywhere. It feels like I could explore all day and still not see every treasure she has in here. She gestures towards a chair and brings me a plate with a couple of cookies and a glass of POG.
“How old are you, Huhu?”
I finish my bite of cookie before answering. “I’m 14, Auntie. My name is Mina, by the way.”
“Huhu Mina, who is 14, this is the best time for this, ya? I knew it would be.”
“Best time for what, Auntie?”
“For us to talk. I’ve been waiting.” Every time she stops speaking I feel the weight of her words. Like the silence is equally important. There’s a power around her.
“Why do they call you lolo, Auntie? You don’t seem crazy to me.”
“The keiki probably heard it whispered by adults. I never married, I live how I want, I work hard. So, I’m crazy.” She shrugs, looking completely unbothered. “You know what else I am?” I shake my head. “Happy. Fulfilled. Fully myself.” Her smile is radiant, pulling her round cheeks up and crinkling her dark eyes at the corners. She’s beautiful. I never noticed before. “I see you, Huhu Mina, fiery like Pele. But this? It’s a tipping point, becoming a woman. You have to make the choice. You can either nurture that fire or stomp it out and become less to be more acceptable to others.”
I’m thinking again about what Rafferty said. “I don’t want to be less,” I whisper.
She nods once. “Anger’s not bad. But don’t let it control you. Use it to do good things. Do you know mana?” I gesture no, munching on my cookie. “For my people, mana is our spiritual power. It’s uniquely ours, a gift from above. You could be manawahine. Manawahine is rooted firmly. She knows who she is, where she’s from, where she belongs, and she fights for what is right. Manawahine’s anger is righteous, not self-serving. We all have value and kuleana—responsibility. It’s your kuleana to nurture your gifts and use them to better the world around you. What do you want to do, when you grow up?”
“I want to be a social worker.” I’ve never told anyone that before, my secret goal. “I want to work for child welfare.”
