Sniff: A Lauele Town Short Story
Excerpt #2

sniff_cover_blogKona hated making his bed. Walking around the edges and bending close to tuck in the top sheet made him feel…exposed.

From the doorway Kona leaped to the middle of his bed. Kneeling on the edge of the mattress and leaning down, Kona held the top sheet in his hands. With a bounce worthy of Ringling Brothers, Kona flung himself skyward and jammed the sheet between the mattress and the box springs before landing on his knees again. After inching his way around the bed tucking in the sheet and smoothing the blanket behind him, Kona’s last bounce sprung him almost out the door. He put on his Mom-eyes and glanced back for a final check.

As the bed’s dust ruffle settled, he saw something shimmer. Moving quickly, Kona kicked the empty Oreo bag deeper under his bed. His Mom-eyes spotted the telltale crumbs, and he brushed them off his desk chair before shouldering his backpack. Heading out his bedroom door, he almost didn’t hear the sh, sh, sh, soft and dry like sandy flip-flops on cement, a settling sound, a sound like empty firecracker papers scuttling along sidewalk before coming to rest on a dry, brown lawn.

Sh, sh, sh.

Kona didn’t turn around. He knew there was nothing to see.

To download the entire story, please click here.

Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.

Sniff: A Lauele Town Short Story
Excerpt #1

sniff_cover_blogBeing an only child, Kona was blamed for things he didn’t entirely do. The best he could figure, it was some kind of screwball adult logic that said if Mom didn’t do it and Dad didn’t either, it must have been Kona.

“Robert Konahele Inoye, get in here now!”

Kona groaned. Three names. He lowered his baseball cap and headed down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Kona, where are the Oreos?”

“Oreos?”

“Don’t play games, Kona. They’re not in the cupboard. I never had them; your father didn’t. Tell the truth. You snuck in the kitchen and ate all the cookies last night.”

“I just had a couple. With milk,” said Kona, pointing to the empty glass by the sink. “Just two. Not the whole package. Really.”

Mom narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Kona. Who ate all the cookies if not you?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Wasn’t me.”

“Those cookies were for the whole week! There are no more cookies. None for snack; none for dessert; nobody gets cookies now. Nobody likes a greedy pig, Kona. Whoever ate all the cookies is exactly that.”

Yeah, Kona thought, greedy, but not a pig.

Mom sighed. “Go get your backpack. Time for school. And don’t forget to make your bed.”

To download the entire story, please click here.

Excerpted from Sniff by Lehua Parker. Copyright © 2013 by Lehua Parker. Excerpted by permission of Lehua Parker, LLC and Lauele Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher or author.