At seventy meters, Michael was only a foot behind.
He came abreast of the other runner at eighty meters, and when he crossed the finish line he was at least a full meter ahead.
Slowing down, he waited for the consequences. The guy already hated him just because of the color of his skin, and now he’d beaten him in front of his friends. Great!
Josh Malani was out of the bleachers, jogging across the track. “Way to go, Mike! You left him in the dust!”
Without warning, the guy he’d just beaten, who’d earlier looked as if he was ready to smash Michael’s face, stopped short, his expression confused. “You’re Mike Sundquist?” he demanded.
“Michael,” Josh said immediately. “He hates it if you call him Mike.”
“So that’s why you call him Mike?” the guy with the stopwatch demanded. “I thought he pulled you out of the reef!”
“He did.”
“So show a little respect!” He turned to Michael. “Malani gives you any trouble, you let me know. I been wantin’ to kick the shit out of him for years, but he’s too small to bother with. Even smaller than you. But he can’t run!”
Michael’s head was swimming. What was going on?
“How’d you do that?” the defeated runner was asking now. “Jesus, man! I was ten meters ahead of you, and goin’ full speed when you started!” Slinging an arm around Michael’s shoulders, he started back toward the coach and the rest of the team, calling out to the boy with the stopwatch. “Hey, Rick, how fast did he do that hundred?”
“A little more than eleven seconds,” the timer replied.
“That’s a whole second faster than anyone we’ve ever had,” the other one said. “I can do the long stuff, but it’s a bitch getting up to speed.”
Michael eyed him suspiciously. “I thought I was supposed to eat shit!”
The huge boy grinned. “That was when you were nothin’ but a stinkin’ haole. I’m Jeff Kina.” He stuck out his hand, then turned to call to the coach, “Hey, Mr. Peters, he’s on the team, isn’t he?”
“He is, but I don’t know how much longer you will be. How’d you get beaten by someone half a foot smaller than you, when you had a head start?”
An enormous laugh rumbled from Jeff Kina’s throat. “Hey, I can’t do everything, can I? So what I can’t do, Michael will take care of, and this year we’ll kick everyone’s ass. Right?”
For the first time, Michael began to think that coming to Maui might not have been such a bad idea after all, and when he called home an hour later — his first track practice behind him — he didn’t even bother to pretend to be cool.
“It’s me, Mom,” he said when the answering machine picked up his call. “Guess what? I did it! I made the track team! Can you believe it? I made it!” He paused for a second, then rushed on, his words spewing out in a torrent of excitement. “I’ve met a whole bunch of new guys, and they’re really great. Except that one of them was gonna—” He cut himself short, then quickly changed course. No use getting his mother all upset by telling her someone had threatened to beat him up this morning. Besides, that was all over now. “Anyway, I’m gonna go out with Josh and a bunch of guys from the team. We’re going over to Kihei and grab a burger and go to a movie or something, to celebrate. I’ll be home by ten-thirty, maybe eleven. Isn’t it great that I made it? See you later!” Hanging up the phone, Michael grinned at Josh Malani and Jeff Kina, who were waiting for him by the door. “Where’re the other guys?”
“They took off already,” Josh told him.
“Then let’s go!” Michael said, picking up his book bag. “Anybody know what movies are playing?”
But as they were leaving the locker room and heading toward the parking lot, Josh Malani came up with another suggestion — one that had nothing to do with movies. As he listened, Michael felt a knot forming in his stomach.
Part of it, he knew, was excitement at the idea Josh was proposing.
But another part of it was fear.
“Night diving?” he asked as he tossed his book bag into the back of Josh’s Chevy pickup. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
Josh grinned at him. “A little, maybe. But so what? You’re gonna love it!”
Maybe I should call Mom back, Michael thought as he and the two other boys piled into Josh’s rusting pickup truck. Maybe I should tell her what we’re really doing. After all, if something happens …
Forget it, he told himself. All she’ll do is worry.
CHAPTER 7
“You sure this is a good idea?” Michael asked again. He, Josh Malani, Jeff Kina, and two other guys from the track team — Rick Pieper and someone named Kioki, whose last name Michael didn’t remember — had grabbed hamburgers, fries, and Cokes at a place called Peggy Sue’s. As they ate, Josh explained how they would equip themselves at Kihei Ken’s Dive Shop: “He leaves the key under the barrel behind the back door.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” Michael asked, though by now he thought he knew Josh well enough to be certain that whatever peculiar illogic his friend might come up with, he would manage to make it sound reasonable.
“Ken’s my friend, and he’d say it was okay.”
“Why don’t you just call him and ask him?” Michael asked, which only netted him one of Josh’s patented looks of complete scorn.
“He’s off-island, for Christ’s sake. He’s over on Lanai and won’t be back till tomorrow. Come on, Mike, don’t give me a hard time! I’m your best friend.”
“You’re also crazy,” Michael reminded him.
Josh’s affable grin spread wide. “That’s not news. But you still saved my life, so I wouldn’t mess you up, would I?”
At the time, the final logic had seemed impeccable. Now that he was actually standing at the back door of Ken’s Dive Shop with three guys he’d known only since that afternoon, and one good friend who was — according to everyone who had known him a lot longer than Michael — certifiably crazy, he wasn’t so sure.
What if an alarm went off?
What if they got caught?
What if they got taken to jail?
But even as the questions rose in Michael’s mind, Josh Malani fished the key out from under the barrel in back, unlocked the door, and flipped on the lights.
“Jeez, Josh! Shut off the lights!” Jeff Kina demanded.
“Why?” Josh asked. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Come on in and help me find what we need.”
It didn’t take nearly as long as Michael thought it would: within ten minutes they had enough gear for all five of them in the bed of Josh’s truck. But as Jeff Kina started loading air tanks, he swore.
“What’s wrong?” Michael asked.
“There’s only one full tank,” Jeff said. “Any of you guys know how to work the compressor?”
Everyone shook their heads and shrugged helplessly, and Michael felt a moment of relief, thinking they might have to bag the whole plan. But just as he was about to suggest they haul the gear back in from the truck, Josh found five more tanks on a shelf next to the door that separated the back room from the shop. His new friends loaded four of them into the truck, with the full tank from the first batch of tanks they found, then the boys all piled in.
They drove south on Kihei Road, through Wailea and out past Makena Beach. The road narrowed and grew bumpy, and finally they came to a tiny cove where the water glittered in the light of an almost full moon. Michael began to relax, then realized Josh wasn’t going to stop. “What was wrong with that bay?” he asked, peering back over his shoulder. Even in the darkness, the inlet looked reasonably safe.
“LaPerrouse?” Josh asked. “That’s for tourists. We’re goin’ to the goldfish bowl.”