1 Sep 2018, 13:53
Hilo International to London City
She looked up at her parents, trying to avoid their shiny eyes. If she didn't look at them - instead keeping her tunnel vision on their lips - then she could pretend that they weren't crying, and she could pretend that she was trying not to.
"Now, Kalani, you'll be on your best behaviour, won't you, kala?"
Kalani nodded.
"And you've got everything you need? You've got your bracelets, don't you?"
Kalani nodded, shifting the weight of the black suitcase in her hands between her fingers. All her scabby clothes, packed into a little trunk.
They fell quiet. All around the three, people hustled and bustled to get through security. All on their way to the great United Kingdom, from Hilo International to London City. However, only one of them was getting ready to throw themselves into a whole new life, and that was Kalani.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was to be a new start for the young girl. If she was to go to Ilvermorny, she'd meet kids who knew her. Kids who knew her past. So, her parents decided, it would be much better for her to go someplace where no one knew her. She could craft a new Kalani from the ground up.
This was not what they told her. The Andersons would never say anything that gave the impression that their daughter was less than perfect.
Instead, they told her how great Hogwarts was. Her dad had gone to Hogwarts, and he would have stayed there if he could have. Neither he, nor her mother, had had a single good day at Ilvermorny. Hogwarts was just better; the community, the teachers, the education, were all simply better.
Kaimana crouched down, and cupped her daughters cheeks in her hands. "I know you're going to miss us, kala. We're going to miss you too. But you'll see. Hogwarts will be so much better than Ilvermorny could ever be. Do you understand?" As she spoke, she tucked a lock of ebony hair behind her daughters ear. They were so like one another, Dexter realised: the same beautiful kind features, the same thick dark hair. Though Kaimana had once been loud, exciting, impulsive - just like their daughter - the years had toned her down to the sensible woman she was now. Yet, she was still startlingly beautiful to him, eleven years on.
Kalani nodded, leaving a thin silvery trail on her cardigan sleeve as she wiped her nose. Kaimana pouted, even more so than before. Dexter could see the gears turning in his wife's head, as she grasped at straws to make her daughter smile. Instead, her crouched down next to her, and met Kalani's eye. "Your aunt and cousin are very nice, you know. Sofia's going to be a big Quidditch player someday. Maybe, if you're very good, she'll teach you how to fly."
A white lie. While Sofia did a lot of work with wizard kids, acting as a Quidditch coach, Dexter couldn't be certain if she had the patience needed to teach Kalani everything from the ground up. But the lie lit Kalani's face up like a Christmas tree, so it was worth telling.
They fell quiet again. There wasn't much more to say.
Kaimana made the first move. She reached out her long arms, and pulled her only daughter into a bear hug that would put a polar to shame. Dexter quickly followed, wrapping the two in his shorter, but far stronger arms. A faint memory resurfaced; the three of them, all ten years younger. Dexter, still young, fit, and strong enough to lift his wife up and carry her and her new child throughout the house. Kalani squealing in her own, special, clueless way.
Dexter hated that they were some of the worst years of his life.
When they separated, Dexter and Kaimana both took a few steps back. The more distance between them, the more easily they could resist the urge to simply pick her up and take her home. Kalani copied them, dragging her trunk with her.
She forced a smile. "I'll see you both at Christmas," she signed, "so it's not that bad."
Kalani decided that she didn't like airplanes.
Could you blame her? A six hour flight to Los Angeles, followed by an eleven hour flight to London. Though she slept for most of the latter flight, she hadn't been able to rest for a second on the first. A mixture of things: anxiety, excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear about the very formal looking business man sitting beside her. However, that business man ended up being her best friend; she learned from sneaking a look at his phone that he, too, was heading to London. So, she kept her distance, and followed the man until she found her way onto her connecting flight. Move over, Sherlock!
She followed the same man all the way to baggage claim, but when they were finally released and the business man disappeared into to crowd of people with signs, she found herself on her own once again.
One hand pulling her suitcase, she reached into the pocket of her mom jeans. About eighteen hours ago, her dad had given her a photo. An old polaroid.
A family stands in their living room. You can tell from the furniture, the clothes, the hair, that the picture is plucked straight from an era long gone: the nineties. The dad and mom stand behind their two children, a hand on their shoulders. The two children are in their late teens, maybe coming up on their twenties. The dad is a stern looking man, totally bald and wearing a suit, as if he was just on his way out to work before he got dragged back for the sake of the photo. The look of him, the grandfather she never met, gives Kalani chills. The mom wears a bright smile, but it seems a little forced for the camera.
One of the children is familiar to Kalani, of course. Her eighteen year old father glowers back at her. It's funny to see him with hair; a blonde mullet, no less! His arms are crossed over his chest and he slouches in the chair, almost looking as if he wants to tear away from his father's hand on his shoulder. His style is decidedly edgy.
The final person in the photo is Kalani's aunt. Suzanne Anderson. She's very pretty, with long blonde hair and a perfect smile. She is a sharp contrast to her brother. She wears cuffed mom jeans, and a large striped turtleneck. From the stories, Kalani knows that her looks aren't the only incredible thing about her.
Now she had to find her.
She took a few steps forward, pushed on by the crowd. Her head swings from left to right, looking for the young seventeen year old with the perfect blonde blowout and the baby on the way.
When someone broke away from the crowd, wrapping a bony hand around her elbow, she had to fight back the urge to scream. It was fine to scream in a little town, where kids played all the time, but in the airport full of police it wasn't a good idea. When she looked up, she saw her aunt.
She didn't look like the photo. In the picture she looked small, petite, demure. The girl next door. She had a professional look around her now, with a straight blonde bob and a navy suit. She smiled, showing the same perfect beam from the picture.
"Hi honey!" She said, chipper and bright. Kalani noticed the massive movements her mouth made; she must have got the memo. "I'm your Auntie Suzanne. Your anake, yes?"
'Anake'. The Hawaiian word for aunt. The shapes Hawaiian words make on mouths was soothing, familiar. She smiled and nodded at her aunt.
"You've got your daddy's face," Suzanne remarked, reaching out and taking Kalani's case from her. "Let's go to my car. It's awful late, and you must be tired."
The accent - her father had warned her that everyone would have a 'London accent' - made the shapes on her aunt's mouth look funny. But she could still understand her. Thanks to her mom and dad, she'd been used to the shapes English words made for the past year. She let her aunt take the case, and without realising it she was soon holding the woman's hand. The woman looked surprised, but only for a moment as her face went warm and comforting.
To an onlooker, the pair were mismatched. The girl, in scruffy battered clothes, with messy dark hair, and a natural glow to her skin that you didn't see in Britain. And the woman, in a navy pin-striped suit, every part of her from her head to her toe creating the image of professional and put together.
The pair left the airport hand in hand.
STA: 5 / AGI: 8 / STR: 2 / CTL: 7 / ARC: 3 / ACC: 5