Breathless

T
ravis Morrison became my friend in third grade after two fifth graders beat me up on the school playground. They said I was ugly and weird-looking, took my lunch, and made me cry. Travis shared his lunch with me, and after school when his mom picked him up, he asked me to play at his house. I went home with him every day after that. It’s not as if my mom cared where I hung. She was working two shifts at the carpet mill. She said she was glad I was being cared for by a family with a mama who was a professional nurse, since I was prone to trouble.

Travis’s family is normal—which mine isn’t—and he has a sister, Emily, two years younger than he is. I think she’s pretty, and I made the mistake
of saying so one time. “Pretty?” Travis made a face. “Is your brain fried?” It took me a while to figure out that he really likes her but just won’t show it. I have no sisters, and Travis is the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever know.

I’ve never looked like any of the other kids at school. My dad was some Hawaiian guy who skipped out before I was born. I’ve seen photos of him. Mom’s part Korean, so I admit I’m weird-looking by southern Alabama standards. Cooper Kulani: misfit. That’s me.

By the time I was in seventh grade, I was a head taller than every other kid in my class. I could kick the crap out of any of them, and no one has ever shoved me around again. Except Emily. All she has to do is look at me and I turn to mush. No one’s ever caught on, though. Not even Travis, who knows me inside and out.

Travis must have been born with the “risk-taking” gene medical science talks about. There isn’t anything he won’t do, or try to do. I guess that’s why he became such a good diver. He has no fear and no equal in competitions. He’s on track for athletic scholarships all over the country. I joined the team when he did but never liked it, which is
why I never medaled, and one reason I quit the team last year. But for the most part, I do what Travis does, not because I have the risk gene, but because I was born crazy, I live hard, and he’s my best friend. There isn’t anything I won’t do for him.

I
t isn’t easy being the sister of the most popular non-football-playing athlete in the state of Alabama. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not jealous of all the attention Travis gets. It’s just a fact of life—I get lost in his shadow. I learned early on that girls wanted to be my friend to get to Travis, so I decided not to hang with most of them. Who wants to be used? I love to read, so books are my main friends. They’re always available, always friendly, and always interesting, and they never make me choose sides.

Mom’s a nurse, and she likes working the night shift best, which means she’s home in the mornings when Travis and I get ready for school. She fixes breakfast, gets us all out the door, catches some sleep after we leave, is gone to work by four
in the afternoon when we get home from school. Dad’s an accountant and takes over dinner duty. He’s our chauffeur, cheerleader, homework guru, and sometimes room mother. He’s a much better cook than Mom anyway.

I like school. I make good grades; I like rules. No guessing what to do or how to act. God has rules. My parents have rules. Schools and governments and society and Internet sites, they all have rules.

My brother, of course, has never met a rule he could obey. He makes life up as he goes along, and if I ask him why he does something, he smiles and says, “Why not?”

Travis is a champion diver. Dad calls him “focused.” I think he’s a fanatic about his sport. He spends a ton of time practicing and competing, and didn’t even have a serious girlfriend until last year, when he hooked up with Darla Gibson. She’s one of the highest-profile girls at Robert E. Lee High, though not necessarily in a good way. She doesn’t have the best reputation, but that doesn’t bother Travis. To me she seems fluffy, like a jar of marshmallow creme or a wad of cotton candy. Pretty to look at, not very deep, will make you sick
if you get too much of her. I can’t figure why Travis likes her—except for the obvious—but he really likes her.

Then there’s Cooper, Travis’s lifelong friend. He has an after-school job nowadays, but he used to hang at our house all the time. He has straight black hair, eyes so dark they look black, and a snake tattoo wound around his upper right arm. I’ve never heard him talk about his family and can’t remember ever meeting them. There must be a reason, but I can’t figure it out, so I let it go. Haven’t seen or heard anything in school either, but Cooper keeps to himself. I guess everyone has secrets. Even me! True confession: He makes my insides go hot and squiggly when he comes around, but I’ll never let him or Travis know.

Cooper, Travis, and Darla will be juniors in the fall, and I’ll be a freshman, which means that they’ll graduate in another year and I’ll be left alone, the kid sister who stands outside the spotlight that shines on her brother.

When we went to the lake on the first day of summer vacation, I thought everything was great. It never occurred to me that real life has no set rules.

“T
its for brains.” That’s how my father talks to me. It’s how he puts me down. And h is words hurt sometimes as bad as his fist. Sure, I didn’t get a ton of gray matter at birth—he’s a member of that Mensa society and thinks he’s too smart for the real world. And maybe I didn’t get showered with his “smart” DNA, but I don’t see why he has to throw that in my face all the time. His mean mouth made my sister Celia leave home the minute she graduated. I’ll be out of here soon as I graduate too. He’s not so mean to Kayla. She’s ten and already showing some of Dad’s brilliance, which makes her more acceptable. Celia and I never were smart enough.