In the early part of March, my dad and mom started talking a lot about different states and jobs. One cool sunny afternoon, my siblings and I were outside playing soccer with some kids in the neighborhood.

"Pass the ball!" one of the kids yelled while Brisa was trying to avoid getting the ball taken away from her.

Whoosh. Brisa sent the ball flying, and it accidentally knocked over our neighbor, Mr. Kim's drink. Mr. Kim was a chilled dude, so he didn't react negatively when the ball spilled the drink. Instead he took our ball.

"Which one of you knocked over my Hawaiian Sun Passion?" He said, standing there with our ball in his left hand. Mr. Kim was in his forties, but he looked fit and he always wore this floral unbuttoned shirt with a white tank-top, khaki shorts, and beige slippers. Kind of like Tito Makani from the animation series Rocket Power.

"Sorry about that Mr. Kim," Brisa said.

"No worries nā keiki liʻiliʻi," (which means little ones or children) he said while tossing the ball in his hands.

"I tell you what, if you nā keiki can get the ball from me, then you don't gotta worry about nothing. But if I kick the ball into the fence over there, you owe me another Hawaiian Sun Passion." He said smiling.

We all gathered in a circle to decide if we should play against him or just run upstairs to the apartment and get the soda out the fridge. But, being the competitive kid, I was, I talked everyone into agreeing.

"Deal!" we said facing Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim laughed and walked over to the playing field. I told all the kids to spread out so he couldn't get past us. There were ten of us in total, so we thought we had the upper hand. Mr. Kim did some fancy footwork with the ball, then gave a sideway smile.

"Ready?" He said. We all aligned ourselves to block him because we thought he would probably try to kick it over our heads.

"Ready!" We all shouted.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mr. Kim ran forward while moving the ball from foot to foot. He was faster than any soccer player I had ever seen. Each kid try to stop him by jumping for the ball or trying to kick it away from him. I tried to trip him a couple of times by throwing myself in front of him, but he would hold the ball between his feet and jump over me.

Once he got close to the fence, he aligned himself perfectly to kick the ball. It was like watching a professional soccer player at the FIFA games. He raised his right leg back and forcefully kicked the ball into the fence, that once it hit, the fence shook.

"CHEE-HOO!" He yelled while gesturing his fist in a winning position. All of us were shook and disappointed that he won.

"Hey, nice game nā keiki," he said high fiving each of us. I didn't want to give him a high five, but it would've been rude since we were the ones who knocked over his drink.

"I believe you owe me my soda," he said as he tossed the ball to Brisa and walked back to his chair. Brisa went upstairs to get the soda, in which she brought back two just in case.

"Sorry again, Mr. Kim. It won't happen again," Brisa said.

"No worries, I can always go another round," he laughed and beckoned to Brisa to go continue playing.