Kanoa.
When she was flying, Kanoa was free. The sky, unlike the earth, could not hold her in. She could go anywhere, soaring over the world below with a steady beat of her wings and the rush of the warm breeze through her feathers. If she could wish for anything in the entire world, it would be for boundless energy, so she would never have to stop and rest, she could just fly from one edge of the sky to the other.
Kanoa knew the whole island from her bird’s eye view, from the bright white sands of the northern edge, where all the tourists with their pale flesh and bright bathing suits flocked. There was their humble but sprawling town, with its center littered with taller buildings all encased in glass that blinded her when the sun caught them in just the right way. The rolling hills with their thick jungles, building up into the mountains, too hard for too many trees, and then the volcano, its blasted top dark and foreboding, silent now, but there was always the feeling of danger looming over it. And, as the land sloped back down on the other side, there was the place they called the Barren Lands, all dark rocks and sturdy plants, mysterious coves of water and gloomy, unexplored caverns. She loved her island, and this view of it, the shared only with other birds and the occasional helicopter with its beating, thumping propellers.
As the sky started to darken, though, Kanoa would have to descend. She always lingered until the red or purples or oranges of the beautiful sunsets faded away into grey. One of these nights, she vowed she would take a flight through the blanket of pin-pointed stars, through misty grey clouds, right toward the full pale moon. But that night, unfortunately, was far away, and, as evening settled in, she realized she was already late, and she was already in trouble.
Landing softly in the field of grass not far from their home, Kanoa silently lamented the loss of her wings. Slowly, she felt her human body returning to her; after each transformation, she wished she would never have to return to this form, bound by so much, that she could remain a bird forever. After the grace given by a flight, her long limbs felt ungainly and awkward. Her bones felt heavy and her skin seemed to be in a constant state of gooseflesh, cold from the lack of insulating, comforting feathers.
And then there was everything else that went with being human. Responsibility, relatives, the reality of gravity. Kanoa shuddered a little as she jogged down the street toward her house, dreading the moment she walked through that door. Maybe, she thought, hoping against hope, there would be no one there. Maybe her sister went out with her friends. Her uncle had gone out on a job or drinking with his buddies. Her aunt was at some random midnight mass for some random made-up sounding saint.
The windows were bright with light, though, and Kanoa braced herself for the usual onslaught of disappointment from her family. She slipped around toward the back of building; in his cage, Ilio shifted, standing bolt upright, but he did not bark. Kanoa only saw the dark shadow of his tail whipping from side to side, possibly the only one happy to see her. It made her smile, though only briefly, wondering why she didn’t just stay out there with the dog. He would have made much more pleasant company. But she went ahead, steeled herself as she pushed open the door and tip-toed as quietly as she could into the kitchen.
Kanoa made it about three steps before there was a hand on her arm, tight as a vice. “Where have you been?” Makana hissed, pulling her younger sister closer. Her voice was quiet, whispered, not wanting to attract attention from the other room, where the sounds of canned laughter poured from the television.
Trying not to whimper, trying not to squirm, Kanoa glowered at Makana. “I was out running naked in the volcano for Pele,” she muttered, knowing the sarcasm would earn her a burning twist on her arm.
“You were flying again,” Makana accused. “How stupid are you?”
“Let me go!” She gave into the squirming, trying to pull her arm away from her sister’s grip. When that didn’t work, she realized she had to try a little harder, reaching out to grab Makana, push her back. Makana tugged her arm down sharply, making her shout out with the pain, and then they both winced. There was no way their scuffle would go unnoticed.
“Oh, my Lord.” Aunt Lani stood now in the kitchen door, swathed in her fluffy pink robe and the matching slippers. As usual, her head was festooned with a crown of rollers. So much for her being at a church meeting; she looked more like Medusa than a God-fearing woman. “You nuggets are going to drive me right up this wall. You know your uncle isn’t going to like the two of you fighting like rabid dogs in here.”
Almost as if on cue, Uncle Jon’s voice drifted through from the living room, rising over the soundtrack of whatever he was watching. “You tell those girls that if they don’t shut up in there, I will shut them up myself.”
For a moment, Kanoa though Makana might give her away. Her sister’s chest swelled up with a deep breath, her jaw set tightly as she weighed the choices, and Kanoa realized that she wasn’t breathing either. She tried not to look at Makana too much, but she knew her fate was in her sister’s hands. She closed her eyes, tried to think of flying, though perhaps that was the wrong way to go. Makana did not have the same powers as Kanoa, and it had always been a point of contention with her.
“We’re sorry, Aunt Lani,” Makana finally spoke quietly. “I was just getting Kanoa inside. She was out playing with Ilio and lost track of the time.”
Aunt Lani’s bleary, watery eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Kanoa made a fine show out of keeping her face blank. It helped to transport herself to just a few short minutes ago, when she could feel the wind on her face. “All right, then,” she said, reluctantly. “You girls get on up to bed, then, and stop making all this noise. Your uncle had a bad day, and the least you could do is keep it quiet and be civil instead of acting like savages. It’s hard enough for us to take care of you since your parents went and died like they did, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the two of them muttered, in unison, as they had been doing for nearly a decade of living under this roof. They kept their eyes down and their hands folded and, after Aunt Lani sent them one more warning glare, they scurried toward the stairs up to their small attic bedroom. Makana had grabbed Kanoa’s hand, practically dragging her on the way, and when they reached their room, she turned on her vehemence.
“You really are stupid, you know that?” she said, shaking her head and sulking toward her bed, plopping down on it. “If they knew you’d been going out to turn into a bird and flying, Kanoa, that’ll be the end of it! Did you know Uncle Jon’s been talking about sending us off? We’re so close; one more year, and I’ll be eighteen, and we can be out of this house, but not if you go screwing it up by doing that.”
“I’m sorry!” It came out of Kanoa with more desperation than she’d intended. “I can’t help it! You don’t understand!”
“I know,” Makana said, after a moment, giving Kanoa a faint smile. “I don’t, but I understand it a whole lot more than they will. Come on. I’m going to bed. You know Aunt Lani’s going to want us up early tomorrow for church.”
Feeling numb, Kanoa went through the motions of getting ready with her sister, who offered a hug, reminded her that she loved her and that, if she could keep it together and keep from transforming, then their parents would look down on them and be proud of her. But Kanoa knew that she couldn’t. She had to fly. She lay still in her bed for the longest time, wondering if she could get through another year of this. This house seemed so small and restrictive, her aunt and uncle so cruel and always holding it against them that they were a burden, and Makana had changed so much from when they were little girls together. She waited until she heard the soft, slow breathing of Makana’s sleep before slipping out of her bed, slipping toward the window, and opening it as quietly as she could.
The night sky was sprinkled with stars, as wide and fathomless as the blue from earlier. Down below, Ilio was watching from his cage, his tail wagging back and forth as if to invite her out. Kanoa closed her eyes and pushed off the window ledge, flapping her wings and heading for the moon.
