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The first morning of my summer holiday. I go to the kitchen to get some water before going to the grocery store. The patio door is open, breakfast is served on the table. Uncle Do must’ve prepared them this morning. 

I stand on the patio with a glass of iced water. Nobody is awake yet, I think. We always serve our guest breakfast and dinner. One of the problems is because there are no decent restaurant near here so we let our guests to do barbecue or let them request what dishes they want for us to serve them. Did I mention Uncle Do is a very good cook? 

I see a figure at the pool lounge, reading a book at the pool chair. She’s alone. I’m not sure where the others are, maybe they’re not awake yet? At first I thought it was Lexa because of the similarity but turns out it’s Sandara, the Korean girl. I don’t know what drives me to walk toward the pool but I did. And now I’m standing at the pool side. After five seconds she realizes my existence. She puts down her book and stares at my direction behind those sunglasses. 

There was a brief silence and awkwardness but then she nods her chin, “Hey there-“ she says. 

“Uh— I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” she smiles. “I believe we haven’t introduced each other properly.”

Properly? We haven’t been introduced at all since you swing your middle finger at me and your friends last night. I just smile back at her without walking closer. 

“I’m Sandara. Call me Dara. It’s shorter and more efficient.” she takes off her sunglasses and there she is. This is the first time I see her face. I only got a glimpse of what her back looked like last night. She surprises me with her fair beauty. This is the kind of beauty Korean girls will die to have. 

“You speak Korean?” I ask. 

She chuckles, “Why is it that every time I’m here people always ask me if I can speak the mother language—“ she puts on her sunglasses again because of the sun. “No I was born and raised in the US.” 

“Oh—“ 

“I’m sorry. Did I disappoint you?” She asks. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a real question or a sarcasm. 

“Nah. Nevermind.”

“Good.” she says shortly and firmly.

I don’t know what to do now. Should I leave her or should I involve myself in a deeper conversation since she’s still starring at me. “Uh— Um, I’m heading to the grocery store. Do you guys need anything?” I ask stutteringly, which I regret completely. 

She tilts her head, implying that she’s thinking of something. Then she gets off the chair and slid her book between her top and shorts. “Can I come instead?” she ask abruptly. 

I couldn’t say no. Even if I wanted to. I don’t like to be surrounded by strangers. I get nervous and uncomfortable. It’s even worse now when she told me she couldn’t ride a bike. Well, I can’t drive yet, and she can’t drive here, her license is not valid here. I go everywhere by bike. There’s not much people driving cars here anyway. People usually ride the bus or bike. 

She hopped on behind me. I wasn’t ready when she put her cold hands around my bare shoulders. I might’ve flinched before I knew it because she asked,  “What’s wrong?” 

“Uh, nothing. Are you ready?”

“More than ready.” she replies. I can hear an excitement in her voice. Does this girl have never ride a bike before? I ask myself. 

I start riding the bike down the road. We can see the ocean on our side. I can feel the breeze on my face, it’s refreshing. I can feel her grip on my shoulders is tightened when the road is steeper but she’s not making any sound. 

“Can you go faster?” She asks. 

I can’t help but smile, I like how she trusts me for it, I always like it when someone rely on me, “Sure.” I reply and start paddling faster. 

We arrive at the grocery store after ten minutes ride which Dara complained about “too soon”.

She asked me to go even a lot faster when we head home. She waits for me outside the grocery store, continue reading her book. I wonder why she’d come with me if she didn’t need to buy anything. At the cashier I look outside through the glass walls, watching her focused on her book. I wanna ask how old she is but too afraid to get the answer or afraid I might offend her in some way. Maybe she doesn’t want to be reminded of her age, adults tend to do that. 

“What are you reading?” I ask once I get out of the store and look at her.

She looked away from her book and look at me. Her sunglasses are on again, making it hard for me to really see her, to really know what kind of expression she really is doing. I feel like the need to see her in the eyes, as I recall, it was beautiful. 

“Does your mother share the same eyes as you?” she asks all of sudden, out of nowhere. She closed her book and walked with me to my bike. 

“Yes. I got mine from her.”

“It’s pretty. I like it. I like how diverse you look and how you represent not only one race.”

I chuckled. “I’ve never heard someone say such thing to me.”

“Really? What’d they say about you?”

I get on the bike and wait for her to hop on. She’s still standing next to me. I look back at her, confused. “I’m waiting—“ 

“What for?”

“Your answer.”

“Oh—“ I feel dumb. What am I suddenly nervous about? It’s rare for me to have an opportunity to talk to an adult other than my parents, my teacher or occasionally the cops when I got in trouble. And this woman, she’s so confident and sometimes uptight. I can’t really know when she’s serious or not. I don’t understand why she’s looking so serious about now. 

“The kids at school, they usually just like to hang out with me because I have a Caucasian look and how my brothers and sisters are popular for their pretty look and talents. They also like me probably because they want to try ing a hybrid. I’ve never once in my life heard them complimenting about my eyes—“ I point my forefinger at my eye. 

She nods head and giggle, “Okay, so do you hate it?” 

“What? Being a hybrid? Sometimes, yes. It could be burdening—”

“Wow, life must’ve been hard for you. A daughter of a mixed race. Wealthy parents, good looking siblings, not to mention how pretty she is too. I’m sorry how old are you?” she asked. 

I’m now really confused. She sounded like she’s mocking me. It wasn’t a compliment at all. It was definitely a sarcasm. “Seventeen—“ 

She suddenly hopped on to my back. This time she put her hands around my stomach and it tingles me. It gives me shivers all over my body, I wonder if she noticed. I don’t even wanna talk about how my heart just skipped a beat for a second there. It’s weird. I have had companion on the back for dozen of times, many hands wrapped around my stomach and waist but I’ve never felt this awkward yet I don’t want her to get them off. 

We rode home silently. I keep thinking about what she said to me earlier, about that sarcasm. I wonder what I did wrong. I was just telling her about the truth. Why’d she look so mad about? I mean how old is she? I never imagine an adult would act so spontaneously chi