I wake up to the dull thud of a styrofoam bullet against my cheek, causing me to groan in disapproval as I come to the harsh reality that it was already time for me to get up and ready for the day. My eyes remain closed, and just as I feel myself start to slip back into my peaceful slumber, the cocking of a plastic Nerf gun has my eyes shooting open fast.

As if my worst nightmares were coming true, my 6-year old, ratty-haired brother stands at the foot of my bed, sending me a challenging stare through his toothless grin. One of his dark eyes sends me a playful wink, centering and aiming the shaft of the foam-based weaponry right at the middle of my forehead. My body springs up off my mattress, throwing the covers off of me before he gets the chance to pull the trigger.

"Don't you dare!" I shout out defensively, feeling a hit of adrenaline make its way up my veins. "I'm up, okay? I'm up."

Aiden was relentless in the mornings, and self-proclaimed himself as my own personal alarm clock for the days when my body felt too heavy to answer the call of my actual alarm. He reminded me, in fact, just how agile that body could be under the conditions of a sunrise and the threat of one of his toy weapons. My legs swing their way off the edge of the bed, letting my bare feet find contact against the cool hardwood floor. My back slouches and my hands rub furiously against my heavy and sleepy eyes. Aiden's giggles wake up my senses more, and I can't keep myself from chuckling with him. "Come here," I smile.

His tiny feet shuffle against the floor, stretching his arms open for me as I take him into my hold. My arms tug hard against his body, pulling him into an unbreakable hug and shaking him playfully. I bring a rough knuckle onto the top of his black curly head, giving him a merciless noogy. "You wake me up like that again, and I'll make sure you eat nothing but opihi for breakfast," I tease, "Got it?"

"That's disgusting" Aiden complains, with a repulsive look on his face as his hand rubs the spot where my knuckle once was. "Momma," he shouts out, stomping his way through my bedroom door, "Lelani is being menstrudel again!"

I choke back laughter. It didn't matter how many times we had to remind the little rascal it was pronounced menstrual, not menstrudel... he never could quite get it right.

In my normal routine, my body moves straight towards my window, tugging open the white, wooden blinds and letting the morning sun stream its way through the room. I can already feel the warm heat of the Hawaiin rays, and it feels my chest with a sense of comfort. Knowing the salt-water and wave-filled day ahead of me, I begin stripping myself of my pajamas and making my way to my closet. My hands push through the shell and blue beaded curtain hanging in the doorway, allowing my eyes to scan over the huge mess of clothes in front of me. Natural instincts have me picking up a cobalt and indigo tie-dye bralette bikini, and I hastily slip it over my body. I grab the first pair of high-waisted shorts I can find, taking in my appearance through the floor-length mirror beside me. I take a moment to myself, trailing my eyes down my body and appreciating the nice contrast the light, ripped denim creates up against my brown skin, which was beginning to look more golden under the circumstances of summer break.

"Lelani," my mom's voice echoes from the kitchen, sending my head jolting away from the mirror. "Your brother needs to leave for school in 5 minutes!"

"I'm coming, momma! I'm coming." My hands dart back to my clothes, shifting fast through the hangers and desperately searching for a shirt fit enough to conceal the bathing suit I was wearing underneath it. I settle for a cropped plaid button-up top, quickly yanking it down over my head, and adjusting the mess of long, wavy jet-black hair it left behind.

The beads of my closet curtain rustle together as I push back through them, heading straight for my bedside table and pulling out my almost empty tube of sunscreen. My fingers massage fast against my skin, working hard to blend in any and all traces of the white paste. Rule number one for surfing that I've had to learn the hard way...

Wear sunscreen kids.

I throw the container of SPF back into the drawer, slamming it behind me as I begin making my way towards the kitchen. Aromas of steamed rice, soy-soaked spam, and pineapple fill my nostrils. Despite the artery-clogging qualities of my mom's cooking, she never failed to make my mouth water something fierce in the morning times. My fingers dart straight for a crispy piece of spam just as my mom sets it on a plate, but her hands work at an almost unbelievable speed, smacking me away.

"That's your dad's, Lela," Mom says sternly, raising her deep brown eyebrows up to me. Without another look my way, she whips the loose strands of her inky hair away from her face and brings her attention back to the sizzling eggs in front of her. Even at 46 years old, the woman doesn't look a day past 25.

A girl can only dream to inherit those types of genetics.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing," I say pragmatically, attempting to pick up the greasy meat slice once more.

"Lelani Kahale, you touch that spam one more time..." Her voice is calm, but warning as she sends one more threatening look my way.

"Fine, fine." I give in, heading for the refrigerator and pouring myself a tall glass of cool water before grabbing myself a yogurt cup from one of the shelves. With my hands full, I use my foot to stretch over to the silverware drawer beside me, latching a toe on the handle and pulling it open.

"She's an animal," I hear Aiden's voice rasp out, disgusted, from the dining table behind me. "Seriously, where did you pick her up from, the zoo?"

I silently mock my brother's words, rolling my eyes, and using my hands this time to fetch out a silver spoon. "Well, if I'm the animal, you must be the poacher," I fire back, recalling the vicious assault made on me from my own bed this morning. "Seriously though, Momma, Aiden shouldn't be allowed any type of firearm... plastic or not."

"Mom's the one who told me to do it," Aiden argues, defending his case.

Giggles escape the perpetrator standing at the stovetop beside me. My head shoots over in her direction, sending a challenging smirk her way, "Oh did she now? I think this unfair favoritism calls for a slice of teriyaki-soaked spam."

My mom sighs, rolling her eyes before flinging the slice of meat in my direction. I smile, catching it quickly with the tip of my fingers. My teeth take a swift bite and I hum to myself as its savory goodness soaks my tastebuds. "Alright," she begins, motioning both Aiden and me towards the front door, "Time to get going. Aiden's summer camp meets at 8:00 this morning and you, young lady, have a college advisor to go talk to."

I groan internally, knowing that registering for college classes was the last thing I wanted to spend my day doing. "But I'm supposed to be meeting Alana today. We're gonna head out to the North Shore. The waves are forecasted to be perfect today."

"Well looks like you better take a raincheck, Lela. Your education is first and foremost. Surfing comes after."

The one thing mom and I fought the most on was always the same: surfing. In her mind riding waves wasn't a career, but a hobby. In my mind, surfing was the epitome of life, filling me from the feet up with passion and purpose. She would never understand, and I gave up on fighting her on it.

"Got it," I bite out, slipping my feet into a pair of leather slippahs.

Aiden opens the front door, bookbag in tow, and heads towards my dark green XJ Jeep Cherokee. I grab my keys from the row of hooks on the wall, stopping when my mom calls out to me one last time, "Promise me, Lela. Promise me you'll talk with that advisor today."

"Ugh," I groan out. "I promise I'll talk to her today, woman."

"Thank you," she says in relief, sending a warm smile my way. "I love you, Lelani."

"Love you, Momma," and with that, the front door clicks behind me.

My shoes scrabble against the hot pavement of the driveway, and I stand on the tip of my toes, raising my eyesight to the yellow surfboard stripped down on the top of the car. I flick my eyes back down to the backseat, where Aiden is already buckled up and waiting patiently. I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my phone and dialing the number for Honolulu Community College. It's only a few seconds before a middle-aged woman's voice cuts across the other end of the line with a friendly scripted greeting.

"Aloha. Yes, my name is Lelani Kahale. I had an appointment scheduled with you this morning at 9:30, and was just calling to see if I could reschedule that?"

"Sure," the woman says cheerfully, "I'm available again next Wednesday at 10:00. Does that work for you?"

"That sounds perfect," I pop my lips, grinning to myself. "I'll see you then. Mahalo."

I slide my phone back into my pocket, feeling confident as I reach for the handle of the driver's seat door. "Oh shit," I curse, discovering the window halfway open, meaning my 6-year-old brother heard every single word of that conversation.

"Oh, mom's gonna kill you," Aiden smiles, all too menacingly. "That's another promise broken, Lelani."

"Oh, but it isn't," I shoot back, turning and throwing him a cocky smile as I climb up into the driver's seat. "I promised her that I would talk to the advisor today...and I just talked to her."

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm getting pretty damn good at finding loopholes.

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After I dropped Aiden off at summer camp, I headed straight for the North Shore, knowing that the island traffic would cause me to be at least 30 minutes past the time I agreed to meet Alana at the beach. My tires squeal as I slam into the first parking spot that I can find, and I smile as the sight of my bright-eyed friend comes into my view. Alana is already sprinting in my direction, her black and caramel-tight curls springing to action with every swift step she takes. "You're a little late, chicka. That lineup out there is massive."

"Figures," I say, jumping out of the car quickly and immediately starting to untie my board from the roof of the car. "With the way the water is today, we'll be waiting all day to score a wave."

"Let's get that ass in high gear then," Alana squeals out excitedly, "and go shred the gnar!"

"Let's shred the damn gnar, baby!" I shout back, matching her energy and giving my friend our signature head-butt- a behavior we've acquired over the last 10 years of knowing each other.

As soon as we hit the beach, my knees drop into the sand and my hands begin working furiously in circular motions against the surface of my board with a block of wax. Alana sits beside me, with her board already prepped and ready to go. I watch as her head pops up through the corner of my eye, giggling like a schoolgirl as she nudges my arm with her elbow. "Oh chicka, would you check out the damn washboard abs on those zaddy's..."

My eyes shift away from my board, focusing on the set of men playing volleyball in the sand only a few feet away from us. I cringe internally, unsure if I heard my best friend correctly. "Did you just refer to them as zaddy's?"

"Mmhmm," she licks her lips, refusing to pull her gaze away from them.

"You're sickening," I choke out, laughter shaking my entire chest. "And not in a good way." I continue waxing my board, allowing my eyes to gaze up every so often to the competitive match taking place in front of us. I take notice of the lettering on one of the guy's hats, positioned backward on top of his buzzed hair.

USMC...

"You better save yourself some heartbreak now, Alana," I warn her. "They're Marines." Or better known as the island's largest category of 'fuck n' dumpers'.

"And here I thought you were a woman against the average stereotypes," Alana argues back, still drooling beside me over the shirtless and sweaty men.

I finish prepping my board and begin shedding my clothing. Alana remains in her infatuated trance as my feet begin heading towards the water. I whistle back, grabbing her attention. "You coming, chicka?"

Alana blushes, becoming aware of her indefensible staring. She leaps up from the sand, clutching her longboard and joining my side as we make our way to the crystal blue ocean. I sigh to myself, feeling a state of calm and relief wash over me as I take in the sight of the endless sparkling sea ahead of me, fusing perfectly with the vast sky above it. I suck in a breath through my nose, smelling the salty fresh air, and letting the heat of the sun warm my skin.

My blissful peace is interrupted by a whistling and hoot sounding from directly behind us, causing both Alana's and my head to dart back. Just as suspected, the cheering belonged to none other than the Marines Alana was ogling over just moments ago.

"You see," I begin, "Nothing but a bunch of fuck boys..." My voice begins to trail off as Alana sniggers beside me, sending a flirty wave to the group of men whose attention is now fully on us, except for one.

His tall body jumps up into the air, still engaged in a game his friends are no longer participating in. Just as his hand is about to make contact with the volleyball, his eyes follow in his friend's direction, landing squarely onto me and striking the ball straight towards my direction. Immediately my instincts kick in and I drop my board into the sand below me, allowing my hands to catch the ball right before it has the chance to collide with my face.

Anger surges through me, feeling resentful over 1. Being catcalled and, 2. Encountering a near-miss of a hard-ass volleyball to the face.

The brown-haired Marine doesn't skip a beat as he begins running over to us, apology already full in his dark eyes. "Oh god. I'm so sorry," he starts, motioning his hands to me. His gaze cuts down to my fingers, which clench hard into the white leather of the volleyball. "That was an impressive catch though."

Something about his nonchalant comment fills me with even more annoyance, "Oh yeah?" I scoff, trying to keep my irritability at bay. "I suppose it was for how shitty you served it to me. Maybe next time you could try aiming the ball anywhere else other than someone's head?" Alana nudges my arm with her elbow, silently begging me to stop, "Oh, and also, tell your little friends over there that their catcalling is borderline harassment."

His head darts back to the group of boys, now huddling around the white net and peering in our direction. He pulls his focus back towards me, biting on his lip and engaging with me intently through his deep-set eyes.

"You're right. You're absolutely right," he says sentimentally. "Look, can we just have a do-over? I'm Brodie," he states, offering out his hand for me to shake. "And I'm sorry on behalf of each one of those dumbass meatheads back there," he laughs, showing off his wide smile and causing me to have to fight hard against a grin of my own.

I won't give him that satisfaction though, and I damn sure am not taking his hand. "I suppose I can accept your apology, but only on one condition," I say, cocking my head and maintaining my straight face.

Brodie lowers his hand, suspecting the game I'm playing, and by the smirk on his face, I can tell he's deciding to play along too. "And what condition is that?"

"I get to keep the ball," I say apathetically, tossing it into the sand with all of the rest of my belongings. I immediately turn back towards the ocean, picking up my surfboard and walking my feet into the shallow foamy water. "Come on, Alana," I smile, sending one last playful look towards Brodie, "Let's go catch some waves."

"You are a fierce ass bitch, you know that?" Her words send us both into a fit of laughter.

The sound of waves crashing thunders down around us as we wade further into the cool water. Brodie shouts out one last time, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I didn't get your name?!"

I can't help but smile, but I still refuse to look back in the Marine's direction. I make sure my voice is confident, loud, and clear as a forceful wave breaks against my legs, "Lelani."

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