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"Usually around this time of the day she's on her way to the beach to go surfing." She dialed the Mc Gregors's neighbor—she knew the number by heart—to find out which beach Theresa had gone to.A customer overheard the cashier talking to me, and she came over and added that she'd just seen Theresa down at Ko'ki beach and that Theresa's mom, Angie, was there too, and that some of the other Hana surfer girls would probably be down any minute but they had a History Day project due at the end of the week so they might not be done yet at school. Angie Mc Gregor was indeed there, and she pointed out Theresa bobbing in the swells.Our Word of the Year choice serves as a symbol of each year’s most meaningful events and lookup trends.

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It was a half-cloudy day with weird light that made the green Hawaiian hills look black and the ocean look like zinc.

It was also, in fact, a school day, but these were the luckiest of all the surfer girls because they are home-schooled so that they can surf any time at all. "Oh, and also," she said, "I'd really definitely want crazy hair like Gloria's."The girl in the backseat leaned forward and said, "Yeah, and hair like Gloria's, for sure."A lot of the Maui surfer girls live in Hana, the little town at the end of the Hana Highway, a fraying thread of a road that winds from Kahului, Maui's primary city, over a dozen deep gulches and dead-drop waterfalls and around the backside of the Haleakala Crater to the village. It is only 55 miles from Kahului, but the biggest maniac in the world couldn't make the drive in less than two hours.

You know, stuff like thousands of bathing suits and thousands of new board shorts.""I'd want a Baby-G watch and new flip-flops, and one of those cool sports bras like the one Iris just got," the other said.

She was in the front passenger seat, barefoot, sand-caked, twirling her hair into a French knot.

Each one of his siblings have a great personality that I would never be able to express over this app.

They both have been nothing but sweet and continue to remind me how glad they are for me to be in their lives.

It is awesome hair, long and bleached by the sun, and it falls over their shoulders straight, like water, or in squiggles, like seaweed, or in waves.

They are forever playing with it—yanking it up into ponytails, or twisting handfuls and securing them with chopsticks or pencils, or dividing it as carefully as you would divide a pile of coins and then weaving it into tight yellow plaits.

There is nothing much to do in Hana except wander through the screw pines and the candlenut trees or go surfing.

There is no mall in Hana, no Starbucks, no shoe store, no Hello Kitty store, no movie theater—just trees, bushes, flowers, and gnarly surf that breaks rough at the bottom of the rocky beach.

Not only has this woman come over from a different country without speaking a word of English, but also a single mother.

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