spread.
“How’s work going so far?” her mother asked, clipping the ends off flowers she was preparing to sell to the florists in town. A retired florist herself, she now devoted her time to growing every tropical flower under the sun before distributing them in bulk to hotels and shops.
Alana thought about work. It had been three weeks since she started her job at the National Hospital. The hours so far had been decent, but she knew that would change soon. As exhausting as it was being on her feet all day long, she was beginning to form attachments to some patients, most recently an older gentleman who reminded her of her father and a teenage girl who, despite her initial biting personality, was beginning to open up and warm to her.
“Well, I haven’t overdosed anyone, so I guess it’s going okay” she replied flatly. “We’re having a special department meeting this morning. Some philanthropist is flying in and visiting the hospital today, and we all have to be on our best behavior and uniform to impress him.” She yawned then bit into a piece of toast. “The head RN is going nuts over the state of the office. All that paperwork needs to be moved onto the computers for records sake, and I feel sorry for the poor intern who has to do it all. I don’t even know why. It’s not like the donor is going to look through them.”
For months the hospital was tirelessly preparing to receive this special guest. Money, whether it came in the form of aid or not, was always welcomed with arms wide open, and the hospital desperately needed it. While Alana was expecting the limited supply of basic medical resources, she was still taken aback on her first day. As resourceful as her people could be in any given situation, they were not about to pass up on seven million US dollars.
Alana finished her breakfast and stopped and checked her appearance in the hallway mirror. Out of both her siblings, she resembled her mother’s face the most: heart shaped with eyes that had a slight almond shape to them and long lashes that fanned the tops and bottom, her eyebrows were dark and dipped low to the edges of her eyes. She had thick, wavy hair the color of cocoa extending past her shoulders and stopping at her hips. It was wiry enough that when she tugged on a strand and pulled it out, she could use it as dental floss, the effect causing many raised eyebrows back in her dorm days. A birth mark the size of a grain of sand lay distinctly beside her right eye, and a round scar from contracting the chicken pox marred the side of her chin. The rest of her body took after her father’s sisters: brown skin, curvy figure, and a height that was not too tall and not too short. While she looked like the average Polynesian woman, she had one striking feature that was a result of her Occident heritage. Alana had hazel eyes with flecks of brown and olive-green that illuminated brightly when she wore anything resembling the color of moss. Her grandmother said that they reminded her of the colors that blended together to create a rainforest. But these same eyes also caused many children to taunt her in school and resulted in endless tears. Mata pusi! Cat’s eyes! They would tease the one feature that was vastly different from theirs. Alana fingered the delicate shell around her neck and heard the distinct beeping of a car horn outside sending the dogs into disarray.
“Alana, Lisi is here!” Sala yelled over the noise.
“Can someone please shut those dogs up?” She smoothed down the front of her white nurse’s uniform and picked up her bag.
“Eh, stop complaining,” Sala admonished. “They are here to protect you and this house. Without them you will come home one day and find that all your precious books and that beloved iPod of yours gone.”
Alana snorted. “Protect me, my bum. More like attack it,” she quietly mumbled out the door. She wanted to correct her—it was highly unlikely that her books would be target. Besides, all a