I nodded, but said nothing.

"Until you get picked again, you've always got a place with me." Then he flashed his big, warm grin and switched back to pidgin, trying to get me to smile. "I always want you, bruddah. What's a matta you? Your face go all jam up. You no laugh no more, haole boy?"

I glanced down at the sand, shuffled my feet. But I didn't smile. I was too miserable.

"Come on then." Pop put a hand on my shoulder and walked with me to the water.

I was Shane Scully, a name picked for me by strangers. No mom, no dad. No chance. I had nobody, but nobody messed with me either. My nickname around the group home was Duncan because I was the ultimate yo-yo.

All any of us had was Pop Dix. He was the only one who cared, the only one who ever noticed what we were going through and tried to make it better.

And yet we were all so self-involved and angry that, to the best of my knowledge, none of us had ever bothered to say thank you.

*

Chapter 2

"This hotel is gonna cost us a fortune" I said, looking at the brochure of the beautiful Waikiki Hilton. The photo showed a huge structure right on the beach in Honolulu. "You sure you got us the full offseason discount?"

I called this question inside to my wife, Alexa, while sitting out in our backyard in Venice, holding a beer and warming my spot on one of our painted metal porch chairs. Our adopted marmalade cat, Franco, was curled up nearby. He looked like he was asleep, but he was faking. I could tell because he was subtly working his ears with every sound. Cat radar. The colorful evening sky reflected an orange sunset in the flat mirrored surface of the Venice Grand Canal. It was peaceful. I was feeling mellow.