She unwrapped more gum. “My mom’s family has lived on the island since my grandparents’ parents. Same house, the next generation moves in when the one before it dies. We’ve been in LA since I was born, but we’ve spent every summer of our lives here. Grandma died last year, so now here we are.”

Four generations. One island. One house. One family. Unimaginable.

“Why don’t you ask Sean to get Tiana off your back?”

“No,” she said, fast. “Not his problem.”

“Sorry—”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. Just don’t need him in it making it worse. It’s fine.”

“Got it.” Not my business. My own rule.

Someone in the crowd sent a beach ball flying. “This thing’s been happening since 1945,” Kira said.

“Yeah,” I said, looking at my watch.

“No,” she laughed, tipping her head at the mayhem of kids. “This. When the war ended and the internment camps closed, some of the families came back, their kids still school age, and the teachers thought the white students should get reacquainted with their Japanese pals who were back from prison before the school year started. Then they just kept doing it every year, so now it’s a tradition. I bet not a single one of these people knows how it started. Or would give a shit if they did.”

Nearly everyone on the field was white.

She was right. Why had Francine not told me? And why did every high school history class I took act like the internment never happened? Oh, Wikipedia—please don’t end up being the vital core of my education.

We stood for a while, watching the littlest kids try to fly a kite in no wind, me wishing I could think of something not stupid to say.

“I made that flyer,” Kira said. “The one for Salishwood.”

I looked at her. “You did not.” But there they were; the pine boughs from the paper, across her shoulders.

She drew the flyer. She drew the ink on her own body.

“Oh, Kira,” I said. “The ferry cookies.” No wonder they were so perfect.

She shrugged. “More where they came from.” Tiana’s laugh rang from the crowd. I tried to keep my burgeoning hatred at bay. A smaller girl, just as loud, also pretty, was buzzing near Tiana’s side, laughing at something Sean said, trying to wrestle him into a selfie.

“Tiana and Katrina,” Kira said. “Even their names suck. They share half a brain and a third of one personality, so I just Frankenstein them as one: Katiana.” She spit her gum once more into a wrapper.

“Okay,” I said, “so what happened to her?”

“Who?”

“Tiana. Someone die? Do her parents beat her up? Does she have a rare blood disease? Is she homeless?”

Kira’s eyes were wide. “Uh…not that I know of.”

“Because what’s making her be like that?”