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I had not yet come to appreciate what a small town Hana really was.

"She was just in here a minute ago," the cashier said.

"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.

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.

Not long ago I was on the beach in Maui watching the surfer girls surf, and when they came out of the water they sat in a row facing the ocean, and each girl took the hair of the girl in front of her and combed it with her fingers and crisscrossed it into braids.

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

One afternoon I went to Hana to meet Theresa Mc Gregor, one of the best surfers in town.

I missed our rendezvous and was despairing because Theresa lived with her mother, two brothers, and sister in a one-room shack with no phone and I couldn't think of how I'd find her.

A Maui surfer girl named Gloria Madden has that kind of hair—thick red corkscrews striped orange and silver from the sun, hair that if you weren't beautiful and fearless you'd consider an affliction that you would try to iron flat or stuff under a hat.

One afternoon I was driving two of the girls to Blockbuster Video in Kahului.

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