Chapter 4
DIANA
I have the tempting urge to fling my laptop out the window.
The cursor on the Word document blinks tauntingly at me, demanding words I’ve been struggling to find since Monday when Mellonbaum assigned that stupid observation paper.
I turn to old issues of the Howler in my lap.
I sift through Kai’s interviews for a sliver of inspiration, but they only touch on his skills, charity work, and how he began playing hockey.
There’s nothing about who he is beyond the game.
All I can find is a single line that delves into the significance of his name: Kainoa, the name his grandfather gave him to honor their Native Hawaiian roots.
Te Aito, his Tahitian name that honors his grandmother’s side of the family.
Mason-Maiau, his last name that honors his biracial identity.
I huff, dropping my head into my hands.
It’s stupid and, admittedly, a little childish of me to refuse Kai’s help.
But the thoughts that rise in my head when I get too close to him terrify me.
I could feel my resolve falling away each time he baited and teased me in class that the face of the poised, level-headed heiress lies in ruins at my feet.
Taking her place is a girl who wouldn’t mind having Kai come closer, who’d let him touch the lips that his gaze spent so much time lingering on.
Stop it.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My schedule is too rigid to drop a class now. That leaves me with no other choice except to stay as far away from Kai as I can.
“Excuse me, Mr. Gregory.” There’s shuffling outside my room before a knock sounds at the door. “More tea, Miss Diana?”
I groan into my hands. “I think I’m going to need something stronger, Helen.”
The door softly clicks shut. I hear the delicate whir of a flask unscrewing before the air around me drowns in the achingly sweet, herbal tang of rum and tea. I glance up. My maid, Helen, serves my teacup with a flourish.
“Here we are!”
“Thank you.” I pout.
The first sip settles the nervous thoughts fluttering in my brain.
Helen’s hand brushing through my hair finally puts me at ease.
It always does. With her soft smiles and unruffled patience, Helen Hsu is the mother I never truly had.
Little Diana wanted to go as far as chopping her hair into the same pixie-cut so that she could feel closer to her.
“What’s bothering you?” Helen asks.
I sigh, flopping back against my chair. “It’s this assignment for one of my electives. I have to write about a classmate I met.”
“Hmm…” Helen leaves my side and strides towards the closet. She begins unhooking the clothes māma wanted me to wear for tonight’s dinner party. “And you don’t like this classmate?”
I stiffen in my chair. The truth is too messy and complicated to be shrunken into a yes or a no answer.
As much as I trust Helen with my life, the rules that bind her keep me from revealing everything.
Bàba demands all the employees to report back to him if they ever find us acting out of line.
I refuse to risk his wrath over a ridiculous crush I’m fighting to ignore.
I shake my head and set down my teacup. “It doesn’t matter what I think about him. I just need to finish this assignment by the end of the week.”
In the mirror, Helen’s brows arch, utterly unconvinced by my words. But she doesn’t push. She simply lays a scarlet red dress on my bed and nestles my grandmother Katherine’s necklace on top.
“You’re a talented, intelligent girl, Miss Diana. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She smiles at me. The faint freckles peppering her face catch the light of my desk lamp as she does.
“Don’t work for too long, hm? The dinner party is in a few hours, and you’ll need to get ready soon.”
I smile. “Thank you, Helen.”
I let out a breath the moment the door shuts.
In the corner of my eye, my grandmother’s necklace glints like a star.
Motifs of flowers in bloom are carved into the dainty ivory pendant framed in rose gold.
My heart aches when I pick it up. I can still feel the tremor in her fingers as she tucked the necklace into my hand just hours before she died.
That was the kind of person my āmā was. She had a fire that always burned no matter how much the family tried to douse it out.
Whatever you do, Diana, I hope you can walk your own path someday.
I frown at the sloppily written write-up on my laptop. āmā would be so upset if she knew the path I was walking on involved fussing over an assignment about a stupid boy.
I pause, slumping onto my bed.
Over time, my burning crush on Kai had flickered out and faded into a daydream I thought about sometimes.
But now that we’re bound to work together in the same class, he’s a reality I can’t control, a fire that has never stopped burning, and I pray bàba will never see its light.
The HMG demands our unwavering attention.
Anyone who comes between that will pay the price.
He’ll make sure of that.
KAI
“Let’s go, boys!” Dawson, our skills coach, shouts across the Balfur Arena. “Control your skates! Control your puck!”
I skate down the emblem of the snarling griffin. Its wings flare out, bold and strong as the talons that grip two crisscrossed hockey sticks.
Every move I make sharpens under the pressure of starting the drill first. That’s why I do it. It proves a point I haven’t stopped making since my first year: I’m focused, I’m ready, and I’m gonna fight to keep my place here.
Coach Clark claps his hands. “Nice job, Kai!”
“That’s it, buddy!” Coach Dawson taps his stick against the ice. “Keep it up!”
Their praise fuels the fight blazing inside of me.
It burns brighter through the scrimmage.
Jonas passes the puck to me. Ice kicks up from my skates as I arc around, whirling towards the net.
Ryan cuts in front of me. I sweep the puck between his legs and veer around him to bring the puck back.
I pass it to Rowan. Our goalie Marcus cinches his legs together as Rowan charges towards him.
He swings his stick and shoots the puck.
The whistle blows.
Rowan fist-bumps me. His breaths come out heavy as he says, “Nice pass back there.”
“Thanks!” I pant.
We smile breathlessly at each other as we skate off to gather in front of Coach Clark and Coach Dawson.
James Clark watches us quietly, tapping his marker against the armrest of his wheelchair.
It’s an honor to be coached by him. He was the first Black hockey player at DHU to become captain and lead his team to the Frozen Four, the NCAA Division I hockey championship, in 1984.
He would’ve gone farther if it wasn’t for the injury that busted his spinal cord.
He didn’t let that interfere with his love for the game, though.
Coach Clark leads this team the same way he led it as a captain in the eighties: he was stern, but he was motivating.
“You boys remember the words on the walls of the locker room?”
Our voices blast across the arena, “The ones who persevere are the ones who claim it all!”
“That’s right! This is a new year for us.
We gotta stay focused. We gotta work hard.
We gotta play hard. The Lakefield Vipers are going to give it their all in the first game.
But that’s nothing to us. They don’t have our drive and our hunger to win.
” His words sink in, strengthening the determination in our bones.
“This is just the beginning, boys! Winning the Frozen Four will be our ending!”
The boys holler, tapping their sticks against the ice.
This is my last year to win the Frozen Four and rebuild my image enough to get signed to a team in the NHL. No matter how determined and focused I’ll be, I know I’ll have to watch out for anything that will get in my way.