Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

Helping Nanea feels like the only option to me. The rumor we spread can’t be unspread, but perhaps I can still do something to make it better. Together we grab a notepad and brainstorm a stack of anti-rumor slogans, like, “Cast rumors out to sea,” “Crack rumors like coconuts,” “Spread aloha—not rumors.” Then, we scramble the letters of each one and copy the secret versions onto origami paper.

When Lily arrives, she teaches me how to fold the paper into cranes, geckos, and koi, a type of fish. Her fingers move so quickly I finally understand why she was so great at rolling bandages.

With her eyes flashing excitement, Nanea checks that we are ready and announces it’s time to go hide them all. When Lily asks if we could get caught, Nanea shrugs and says it’s okay if we’re caught. We’re not doing anything wrong, only something right. We’re trying to stop bad rumors. Lily smiles and agrees.

Each of us grabs a handful of the folded animals and heads outside, creeping from yard to yard like we are on some grand adventure. Nanea slips a crane into a flower bush, Lily buries a gecko inside a coiled-up hose, and I stash a koi inside an empty watering can. A few extra animals go to Mrs. Lin’s and Mrs. Santos’s yards as well. Every stop leaves behind a small, colorful reminder to do the right thing, and the whole thing feels good.

After the afternoon winds down, I’m finally ready to head home. Saying goodbye to my new friends doesn’t come easily, but Nanea sends me off with a sweet souvenir: a tiny pink crane. Gene drives me back to Waikiki Beach, and once I slip through the fence, I reach for my puka shell necklace.

Sliding the necklace over my head, I keep my grip firm on the tiny crane as well. Will it survive the trip back to my own time? I hope it does. If it makes it, maybe I’ll use it as a bookmark, to remind me to put my imagination toward helping people whenever I get the chance.