Chapter Text
Kahula leaned heavily upon a tree in the front of the school, and sighed. The first week of school as a Junior at McKinley had been much more terrible than he had expected it to be.
And he had already expected it to be terrible.
When you move from the beautiful island you had proudly called your home for sixteen years to Ohio , your expectations are already starting pretty low.
And McKinley had taken one look at Kahula’s expectations, that were already lain prone on the ground, and promptly dug a hole to crawl underneath them.
He had literally just avoided being bitten by a literal doberman pinscher, today.
He looked to where his new Ohio residence sat, across the street from the school. As nice as it was to have such a short trip to school everyday, a long commute would have probably been nicer.
He wanted to tell his parents about how awful this school was, but his father already felt horribly guilty that he had had to move them to Ohio to begin with. So he said nothing. He couldn’t do that to him.
He wasn’t ready to go home, just yet, for that reason. If he went home right now, the emotion about this hellhole so fresh, he’d definitely just say...everything. He needed to settle down for a little while, first.
He bent over to access his large backpack at his feet. He unzipped it, reached in, and pulled out the ukulele he had secreted away. He took it out of its case, resumed his lean on the tree, and began to play, as he thought of his real home, Hawaii.
~He hoʻoheno kē ʻike aku
Ke kai moana nui lā
Nui ke aloha e hiʻipoi nei
Me ke ʻala o ka līpoa~
He lost himself in the song, zero care as to whether anyone heard.
~ He līpoa i pae i ke one
Ke one hinuhinu lā
Wela i ka lā kē hehi aʻe
Mai manaʻo he pono kēia~
And it turned he should have used some care.
Principal Sue Sylvester suddenly appeared, and ripped his ukulele away from him. A tree behind him, Principal Sylvester in front, Kahula was trapped. Terrified.
“I don’t want to be hearing any music on the grounds of McKinley in the first place,” she nearly howled, “but, if I do, it had better be American music!”
Kahula was sure she would have smashed it to pieces on the tree right then, if his father had not appeared as suddenly as she had earlier.
His father was a huge man, broad shouldered, big bellied, and strong. Being in a suit did not seem to render him any less imposing.
“Is there some problem, Principal Sylvester?” Ikaika Palakiko asked, quietly.
Kahula saw her go rather still, her eyes wide. She slowly turned to face Mr. Palakiko. She just shoved the ukulele into his hand, mumbled, “Music is forbidden on school grounds,” and, while you couldn’t say that she ran , exactly, she did walk away, back into the building, very quickly.
“‘Music is forbidden’?” Ikaika repeated, his gaze on the door she had escaped behind. He looked at his son, smiled, and joked, “Where’s Kevin Bacon when you need him, huh?” After they shared a brief laugh, he asked, “She is aware that Hawaii is part of America, right?”
Some of the smile Kahula had gained from his father’s presence faded. “She’s one of those ‘real America’ type of people, dad.”
Ikaika frowned. “That’s not good to hear... I’m sorry my company made me transfer here, Kahula,” he apologized, as he shook his head. He then looked at Kahula and said, very seriously, “I want you to never lose touch with your heritage. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.”
As Kahula accepted his ukulele back from his father, he promised, “I won’t, dad.”
Ikaika raised an eyebrow and asked, with a smile, “What did you call me?”
Kahula grinned. “Makua kane.”