Keoke floated about thirty feet beneath the surface of the water, nearly motionless. The lines attached to his floats hanging in the empty space of the deep blue and the light filtering through the water made dark skin appear pale and washed out. Keoke kept his new spear gun cocked at an angle from the side of his body and waited for the fish to become curious about his body drifting in the water.

The fish were still acting nervous and suspicious, aware that a large living creature was floating a couple dozen feet below the harsh surface. Keoke needed to relax and let the fish see him as a harmless object the way his Kapunaa skilled watermantaught him so many years ago. Confident that breath could be held for a long time, the trick became one of meditationa blanking out while remaining aware in order to avoid mental and physical fidgeting. The fish, Kapuna would say, can feel everything through the skin. They always know if theyre being hunted.

Massive coral heads thrust up toward shore from the rippled sand of the ocean bed. In the deep canyons between the rocks and corals, thick rivers of silver-skinned fish raced off to nowhere in particular, seeking the kind of safety that large groups and convenient hiding places could afford. Keoke tried to think about the fish beneath him while streamers of dark hair, like sea grass, moved in a halo around his face and the crackling sound of parrotfish munching on the coral filled his ears.

Keoke glanced out through his mask at the thick blue of the distant places in the ocean and thought that was how nothing would be describedif he ever needed a way to describe nothing. But then, how would he be able to ignore how full the ocean really was. How, even nowten minutes from shore on his skiff with the little two-stroke engineKeoke could see the ever-present silt of salt, minerals, and tiny living things float past his eyes.

The blue could be nothing, but it was really everything.

The ocean was immense, and though Keoke was hunting in this sea, he did not matter here. He was not supreme. Only the Hawaiian gods, that Kapuna told stories about, or the big fish could rule in the ocean. The young man was shark bait. He was nothing but fodder for whatever fast, white-bellied fish was big enough to eat him. But even those fish would die someday. Some great net would plunge into the lapis waves from the surface and drown the big fish; it would be mortally injured by dolphins, or hooked by some haole sport-fisherman who would take pictures and brag to his friends without eating the meat. Everything is over someday. And like Kapuna would tell him, You think only a haole looks like shark bait, cause he white? Nah. Anything get in the water with no respect or love is shark bait, braddah.

Almost imperceptibly, the wicked tip of Keokes barbed spear began to angle toward a large, curious Ono. The dorsal lines on the fishs long sides could feel the pulse of life inside Keokes gently drifting form. Keoke relaxed his body to avoid making this fish nervous and wondered briefly what the fish might have been thinking about as it circled closer.

Shark bait, Keoke chided himself and resisted the temptation to adjust his weight belt, or check the floats he already knew were securely attached to the line on his spear. The ono looked like it must have sensed this change in mood, so the young man tried to think of something else and return to pretending he was food for the hungry fish.

Kapuna always told me fish are smarter than I think, and now Im fishing like a haole. Keoke felt embarrassed that he let himself get too sidetracked. He also felt lucky that this ono didnt bolt. But there was a definite need to take some attention away from the fishit was getting nervous.

Keoke paddled with his fins very slowly to keep the fish just inside his peripheral vision as much as possible and thought about his job landscaping at Azekas, which only made him start feeling angry. That job was bust-ass hard and he still wasnt paid enough to move out of his mothers houseshe didnt mind, but at 25 and he was feeling embarrassed. Keoke thought that if he didnt fool around so much in high school, maybe hed have gone to UH to be a marine biologist like his Kapuna.

But as he thought about it, high school was pretty fun, sometimes. He went to parties all the time, hung out with the girls and smoked buds in the bathroom. His whole crew used to hang out by the bathroomthe Hawaiian bathroom, it used to be calledand mess with some of the kids whod walk by. Mostly the haole kids, because theyd get scared and it was funny to see them get even whiter than they already were. Mostly it was just roughhousing, even though it could get kind of vicious sometimes.

There was one haole boy in particular at the high school Keoke attended. That kid was so weird that none of the other haoles wanted to hang out with him. He was also the only haole who would walk through the Hawaiian bathroom after the first time he was messed with. Everybody else always found a different way to get to class. With his friends, Keoke would sometimes beat him up and pick on him. If it ever got to that point, the boy would fight backeven though he was pretty smallkicking, yelling, trying to pull hair and even biting sometimes, but he was always outnumbered and would wind up bloodied on the ground by the time the burly shop teacher was able to get across the quad and brake it up in the end. Keoke never understood why the boy would fight all the time, outnumbered as he was. He never went to the principal to report anybody, either. The boy just took the beating and went to class after a quick stop at the nurses office.

One time, Keoke, his friends Eddie Kekauoha and William Funahema were in the Hawaiian hallway when the haole boy came through. William reached out and grabbed the front of the haoles hair and pulledhardjerking the boys head forward and making him drop his books. Everybody laughed. The boy just stood there, not looking at anybody, remaining stifflike a statue. Jeers were made, but the boy didnt move, or reach for his books. He just stood there until Eddie got bored and hit the boy in the face.

The boy hit backaiming for his attackers throatmaking Eddie gasp and choke. Almost as fast, four people were holding him and dragging him into the bathroom. Keoke looked at David, the campus security guarda short Portuguese guy who often smoked pot in the bathroom with the Hawaiian kids. David walked away. Nobody really cared what happened to the haole kid. Even the shop teacher only broke up the fights because he was big, and that was his job.

When Keoke went into the bathroom, the haole kid was already nearly unconscious. Blood spread from his broken nose all over the wet floor. One guy, a Filipino looking for a piece of the action, was pissing on him. The haole kid was feebly trying to fend off his attackers with a blood-covered hand. A couple of his fingers looked broken. Eddie was kicking him in the small of the back as hard as he could, chanting Fucking haole with each connection. The kid collapsed completely and started rolling into a ball. William laughed and stepped on him between the shoulder blades, forcing the kid to lie flat on his stomach.

Eddie pulled back with one of the Gore-Tex work boots he was wearing and kicked the kid in the head, whipping it sideways. The sound made Keoke jump. The kid didnt seem to be moving. Eddie let the haole have another one. There was a crunching noise as the kids cheek turned to mush.

Hes dead. Keoke almost whispered.

What? Eddie looked up, his boot at half cock.

Keoke felt his throat tighten. Spots were beginning to swim around on the light green tiles.

Dis buggahs not dead, William said as he flashed his white teeth at Keoke, He still stay breathin, cuz.

Keokes eyes drifted from Williams smile and paused on the floor where a tooth sat, as if a dentist had just pulled it and set it aside for approval. The tooth was completely intact with bits of gore around the root.

Eywe bettah get outta hea. Keoke wondered if anyone could see his stomach convulsing under his shirt. Bumbai, somebody goin come in da batch-room. Eddie kicked the haole in the head a few more times before nodding to William. Everybody knew Keoke was right, and with the show over, they had begun filing back out into the world of lunch recess.

It was in the news later that the boy had been beaten until he was completely retarded. The steel toe of Eddies boot had cracked the kids skull and bone fragments had been driven into his brain. It wasnt until after school that a janitor found the boy unconscious on the bathroom floor. The report said that the damage wouldnt have been so severe if he was taken to a hospital sooner. His brain had too much time to swell up and take damage from the pressure. The news also said that the police were investigating. Keoke knew they werent, because nobody was asking questions. He thought about that time, and realized that he never cared about the fact that the boy was white. It was just what he did when he hung out with some of the other kids in high school. Keoke thought about some of the white kids he knew and played with as a little kid and about how Kapuna said haole meant a person with no soul and that wasnt true about anybody.

Everybody get one soul Kapuna would say, No mattah who they are, everybody is the same and we come from the same place. Someday, you get big and know that everybody stay kamaaina and you related to everybody.

The boys name was Joseph and he was born in Wailuku. Keoke never thought about the skin.

The ono vanished into the thick blue water.

To order a copy of Chris's recent fiction/poetry anthology Normal Park, contact slapmagnit@yahoo.com.