It was through Harry Ho that Sharkey at last learned how to manage the bewildering Hawaii world, and to move on. In spite of his father’s warning, Harry was his friend, but by silent agreement they never spoke the word. It was an understanding. Other than the boys in the hui, Harry had no friends at Punahou. But he had many in town; he knew his way around Honolulu, the surf spots especially, and he favored the less popular ones, avoiding Diamond Head and Waikiki and using the breaks off Ala Moana, at Magic Island, where he kept his board chained to a rack. Harry’s surfer friends became Sharkey’s friends, and though Harry’s friends were dropouts and stoners, they were connected.

On one of the early days at Bomboras, the break off Magic Island, a local surfer saw Sharkey paddling into the wave and called out, “Eh, haole—try wait!”

And a boy in the lineup whom Sharkey did not know said, “He’s cool. Let him ride.” Then loudly, “Take the wave, Joe!”

The boy who defended him was Ashley, one of Harry Ho’s friends, and after that no one questioned Sharkey’s right to be on the wave. They all became Sharkey’s defenders, and in time his surf buddies.

He kept this knowledge from his father, that you managed here by having a friend, who trusted you and defended you and taught you the island ways. Without a friend, you remained on the outside and were excluded, and sometimes tormented. As a friend you became attached to a hui, ultimately to an ohana, a family, because you were trustworthy and willing to share what you had. And once you were part of an ohana no one questioned your right to be on the island.

Sharkey saw that Harry Ho had chosen him from the Punahou hui and introduced him to his friends outside the school—surfers, divers, fishermen, watermen generally. Uncle Sunshine was one of the old surfers who called himself a Beach Boy—older than the Colonel, yet age made no difference. He was a friend, he gave Sharkey surfing tips. All that mattered was trust, and Sharkey was happy.