Chris Andaya had a stare so cold it might freeze fire. It wasn’t something he put on; it was natural. That laser gaze of his, when he looked at you, was something he’d been born with, and he’d put it to good use from the time he began to rule his elementary school.
There wasn’t a student from 6th grade on down who didn’t know Andaya on sight. And if they had bad eyes, like Andrew Sum, they certainly knew him by reputation.
The good news was that Andaya could face down anyone who thought he might be tougher. The better news was that Andaya wasn’t a bully. The best news was that he had an instinct for helping out the little guys.
By the time he entered intermediate school, Andaya had helped so many students who could not defend themselves, that he had a devoted following who would do anything for him. This included anything from helping him with homework to inviting him to hang out at their homes when life at his home was too hard to face.
Jake Arroyo had been a punk all through elementary school. If you looked up bully in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of this pimply, flat-topped cross between a budding bodybuilder and a sack of stupid. Brains were not in long supply with this guy. He did his thinking with his fists, and at the elementary school he attended, every candidate for being picked on feared running into him.
Arroyo would come home at the end of the day, chuckle as he emptied his pocket with money he’d raised by highjacking the weak and puny that day, and then dump it into a huge glass jar he kept by the side of his bed. His parents never asked where the money came from, mostly because both of them would dip into the jar for change from time to time.
Andaya would come home at the end of the day and count up the number of people he’d helped out that day. He did not have to lift weights; he was built like a brick. A tallish brick. As it turned out, he was the second tallest kid in the 7th-grade class of Kikīhale Intermediate School. The tallest student in the class was a girl, Denise Chan.
Kikīhale was just west of Chinatown, across Nu‘uanu Stream. The kids there came from rough backgrounds in general, but the school, more or less, was a peaceful refuge from the hardships of the world surrounding it.
When Jake Arroyo arrived, however, that refuge began to change immediately. On the very first day of 7th grade, he took lunch money from two scrawny kids, and he had to punch one of them twice to get his dime. The kid, Andrew Sum, dug it out quickly because he could see at least one more punch coming, even though his glasses lay nearby, having flown off his face with the first punch to his jaw. The second one had been to his stomach, but breathing with difficulty, he still produced the dime in short order.
Arroyo delivered the message to both boys that he expected them to hand over their dimes every day from that point on. “And no make me come looking for you, yeah? You wait for me by the library every morning. I no see you, brah, your asses is grass when I hunt you down. Catch?”
Both little boys nodded that they caught the point.
Also, on day one of 7th grade, Jake Arroyo found himself with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. If a sight like Denise Chan could take a boy’s breath away, then Jake’s breath escaped him like a runaway truck when she sat down next to him in homeroom.
“Uh,” said Jake to Denise, “my name is Jake. What’s yours?”
Denise, polite as always, said, “Denise.”
“Uh,” said Jake, “you like be friends with me?”
Denise looked Jake up and down. Many kids their age had pimply faces, although Denise didn’t, and not being at all the kind of person who based her impression about people on their physical appearance, she said, “Sure.”
Pushing it, Jake said, “You wanna eat lunch with me?”
“Yes,” said Denise, smiling.
And that smile almost knocked Jake off his chair. He felt a strange welling up, some kind of new type of adrenaline rush, and he felt his face turn red.
Meanwhile, in another homeroom, Chris Andaya surveyed the influx of classmates, some new to him, some old acquaintances from elementary school. One he recognized that disturbed him.
“Eh, Andrew,” he called to the small Chinese boy who shuffled through the door. “Come sit here.”
Andrew smiled when he saw Chris, came over, and sat down. “Hey, Chris,” he said, “boy, am I glad to see you.”
Chris took a closer look at Andrew’s face. “Brah,” he said, “what happened to you?”
Andrew rubbed his jaw. It was very red and slightly swollen. “I don’t know. This guy. He highjacked me this morning. Me and Allen Asaki. Allen gave him his money right away, but I didn’t. So the guy punched me two times.”
Well, this gave Chris an adrenaline rush he knew well. It was the instant urge to find whoever it was who’d taken his two friends’ lunch money and punch him twice.
“You know the guy?”
Andrew shook his head. “He’s from another school.”
Chris figured this was the case because if this person had gone to elementary school with them, he figured he’d have already beat the bullying daylights out of him.
“Eh,” said Chris, “you show me the guy at lunchtime. I’ll get your money back for you and Allen, Andrew, no worries. This guy ain’t ever gonna highjack you again.”
For second period, Chris Andaya found himself in English class. English, Art, and Music had always been his favorite subjects, and when he saw Denise Chan walk through the door, even though he could see that she was an inch or two taller than he was, he knew right away that English was going to be his favorite class this year.
When the bell rang, Chris Andaya sprung to his feet and tried to catch up with the tall beauty, but in the crowd of students rushing through the hallway to get to their next class, and although he could follow in the direction of Denise’s head, bobbing above everyone else’s, she moved too quickly up the stairway for him to catch up.
Sadly, his next class, Social Studies, was on the bottom floor. Whatever class Denise Chan had now, it wasn’t Social Studies. Chris Andaya knew then, as he slumped into his seat, that without Denise Chan in the room, Social Studies was not going to be his favorite class this semester.
When the bell rang this time, it was lunchtime, and Chris headed to the cafeteria to find Andrew and Allen. Spotting them loitering a good distance from the entrance, Chris walked over to them. He could see they were afraid to be any closer to the entrance for fear of running into whoever this bully was, and this made Chris even angrier.
“Eh, guys,” said Chris, “point out the guy to me, and I’ll get your money back.”
The three faced the crowd of 7th graders storming the cafeteria. All of a sudden, Chris recognized the head of Denise Chan. It was odd, this mix of adrenaline due to an impending fight with this unknown bully, and the adrenaline that surged at the recognition of Denise Chan.
“There,” said Andrew pointing. “That guy with all the pimples.”
“There?” asked Chris for confirmation. “That guy walking with the tall girl?”
“Yeah,” said Allen. “Das him.”
The bully was walking with Denise Chan, and this made Chris’s blood go to a full boil. “You know that girl he’s with?” he asked.
“Uh uh,” said both boys.
Chris knew he was going to find out her name right now. “Try come,” he said, gesturing for the two to follow him.
And with that, Chris moved quickly toward the highjacker accompanying the girl of his dreams.
* * *
Listen to “Confrontation (Part One)
Lanning Lee 