by Kirby Larson
Pop nodded. “I know. I know.” Then he picked up the two biggest suitcases. “Thank you for the ride.” He walked into the crowd.
Mitsi slung her book bag over her shoulder and grabbed her own suitcase, keeping a grip on Ted with her free hand. She tried to walk around the puddles, but there were too many. Her anklets got soaked. She and Ted followed Pop and Mom and Obaachan past this clump of people, around that family, until they reached a soldier with a clipboard.
“Kashino,” said Pop. “11817.”
“Okay.” The soldier made a check mark on the paper and then looked around. He pointed. “That’s your truck over there, folks. Fifth one down.”
A mountain range of soggy luggage stretched alongside the line of trucks. Mitsi couldn’t see where it ended. And the people! It was like when the salmon ran through the Ballard Locks, trying to get upstream to spawn — a writhing, rolling wall of motion. Mitsi heard snippets of Japanese and hepcat slang. Mothers scolded their children for splashing in mud puddles, and teenage boys bantered back and forth. Two little boys had found sticks and were shooting at each other. “Pow-pow, pow, pow, pow.”
Mitsi dragged herself along behind her family, all of them getting wetter and wetter. It took forever to move a few feet. Off to the side, two girls were hugging good-bye: one blonde head, one black. Mitsi glanced around. There were quite a few white faces. Neighbors. Friends.
“Mitsi, Mitsi!” A lady waved a lacy handkerchief. “Dear, over here!”
Mom nodded, and Mitsi hurried over to Miss Wyatt. “I couldn’t let you leave without something to remember us by.” Her teacher pressed a package into Mitsi’s hands. “Good luck, Mitsi. You’ll be in my prayers.”
Mitsi watched Miss Wyatt weave her way through the throngs. Had she come to see Kenji and Grace off, too? Had she brought them gifts? Mitsi tucked the package under her coat so it wouldn’t get wet, then made her way back to where Mom waited, sharing an umbrella with Mrs. Iseri. Mitsi ducked under it, too, to open her package.
“Paper!” Mitsi exclaimed. “And colored pencils.” The drawing pad was the perfect size to carry around. The pencils were travel-size, too. Just like real artists might take when they went outdoors to sketch. Miss Wyatt had written her address on the back of the drawing pad.
“That was sure nice of Miss Wyatt,” Mom said.
“She is yasashii hito.” Obaachan patted her heart.
Mitsi nodded. Miss Wyatt was a kind person. Would the teachers where they were going be as nice? Would there even be teachers? School? Nobody seemed to know the answers to these questions.
The line continued to move a few slow steps at a time. Mitsi’s hair ribbons melted into soggy pink spaghetti noodles. She heard someone say it was nine thirty, but it felt like they’d been waiting for days, not hours. Step after step, they shuffled ahead and then it was their turn to climb into the big green Army truck. Pop lifted her up over the truck gate and some stranger helped her onto a long wooden bench. Mitsi sat down, tucking her suitcase under the bench. She squeezed Chubby Bear close to her chest, pretending he was Dash. If she kept her eyes closed very tight, she could still smell his fur.
After a while, the truck’s engine grumbled to life. The truck lurched forward and then they were bouncing along. Nobody said anything. It was impossible to talk over the engine noise, anyway.
Somewhere along the way, Mitsi fell asleep on Ted’s shoulder. The next thing she knew, two hours had passed, and Ted was shaking her awake from a good dream about playing fetch with Dash in Mrs. Bowker’s garden. “Mits, we’re here.”
She opened her eyes, still sleepy. For a moment, she was confused. Where were the tulips and the daffodils? Where was Dash? Then she remembered.
The truck growled through a big gate in the barbed wire fence and pulled to a stop at a sentry box. Soldiers with guns and stern faces checked out the truck before giving the okay for it to roll inside. Mitsi caught a glimpse of the guard tower, high above, and the glint of gun barrels up there, too.
And then, she saw something that made her wonder if she was still dreaming. Beyond the guard tower stood a Ferris wheel. She tapped Ted’s arm, pointing.
“Yeah. Don’t you remember? This is where they hold the state fair.” He shifted his suitcase to his other hand. “I rode that once. You were too little.”
Mitsi vaguely remembered a trip to the fair. “We had scones. Raspberry scones.”
Ted nodded. “And burgers with fried onions.”
The wind rocked the painted seats, but the wheel itself was completely still. It looked as if it was leaning away from the commotion, embarrassed by what was going on below.
“Over here.” Ted led the way to the end of a line so long Mitsi thought it must stretch clear back to Seattle. Mitsi hung on to Mom’s coat hem. She didn’t care if she looked like a baby. People were wandering around like Bo Peep’s sheep; she certainly didn’t want to get herded in the wrong direction. If she lost sight of her family, she might never find them again. There were so many people and so many faces she didn’t recognize.
In front of them, a mom held a baby in one arm and a suitcase in the other. A little boy — maybe two years old — clutched one end of a ribbon tied to the suitcase handle.
After they’d been standing in the line for quite a while, the little boy started to whine. “I want to go home.” He plopped down. Right in the mud.
“Davy!” His mother tugged at him. “Get up. Now!”
Davy kicked his feet, ignoring his mother and splashing Mitsi.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mother apologized.
Mitsi brushed off her legs. “It’s okay.”
Ted bent over, eye level with the little kid. “Hey, wanna see a magic trick?” He pulled a quarter out of his pocket.
Davy grabbed for it.
Ted tossed the quarter in the air. “Stand up, and I’ll show you.”
Davy stood, oblivious to the muddy stain on his rear. “Show you,” he mimicked.
For the next hour, while the line moved one inch at a time, Ted kept Davy entertained. Finally, he and his mother reached the front of the line. Ted pulled the coin from Davy’s ear, then handed it to him.
“What do you say?” His mother nudged him.
“Thank you.” Davy looked like he’d been given his own cowboy set, complete with pony.
“I thank you, too.” The lady set down her suitcase and put out her hand. “I’m Helen Tokuda. You’ve met Davy.” She jiggled the sleeping baby in her arms. “This is Donna.”
Mom and Pop introduced themselves. “Perhaps we’ll be near one another,” Mom said.
Mrs. Tokuda blinked hard. “That would be wonderful.”
“This way, ma’am.” A soldier waved her forward and she tugged Davy inside the reception room.
“The poor thing,” Mom said. “Two children and all by herself.” She hugged Ted. “You were great with that little boy.”
“Step up, sir.” Another soldier motioned Pop into the reception room. The rest of the family hung back. Obaachan nodded to some older ladies about her age. Ted started up a conversation with a goofy-looking teenager. Mom chewed on her cuticle. Mitsi held tight to her belongings, trying not to get knocked over by the noise and confusion.
When Pop returned, he said they’d been assigned to Area A. “Barracks 52,” he said.
“Where did that nice Mrs. Tokuda end up?” Mom asked. “I know she could use some help.”
Pop shook his head. “It’s a madhouse in there. I lost sight of her.” He picked up the two big suitcases. “But we’ll keep an eye out.”
Mom picked up her bags, too. Obaachan didn’t even try to use her cane on the muddy pathways. She took small, careful steps. So Pop took small, careful steps. Like a family of turtles, they followed as he led them away from the main gate, deeper into Area A. They plodded along oozy aisles between rows and rows and rows of slapped-together barracks, all long rectangles like a kids’ building set. Mitsi had no idea how Pop knew where he was going. She was
certain they were lost. She stopped and looked around.
“There it is. 52.” Mitsi pointed at their new “apartment.” Compared to this building, the sheds on Uncle Shig’s farm looked like mansions.
“Home sweet home.” Mom pulled the door open and stepped inside.
They squeezed in behind her. Five Army cots were lined up in the middle of a space smaller than their kitchen at home.
There were no mattresses or pillows or blankets on the cots. Just some cotton bags. Except for a stove for heat, the cots were the only furnishings. No table. No chairs. No nothing.
“We’re going to have to climb over each other to get to bed.” Ted dropped his bags with a thump.
Flimsy plywood walls separated their room from the one next door. They could hear everything. A woman was crying.
“At least it’s not a horse barn,” a man’s voice said. “That’s where the Akis ended up.”
The woman sobbed even louder.
“Well.” Mom set down her bags, taking in the layer of sawdust and grime. “We’d better find a broom.”
Mitsi agreed with the lady next door. This might not be a horse stall, but it still smelled of them. And not the good part of horses, either.
“Not just a broom.” Obaachan pinched her nose between her fingers. “Bleach. Rags.”
Pop tucked his suitcases in the corner. He gathered the cotton bags from the cots. “And some hay to fill these.”
Mitsi stared. They were going to sleep on hay? Like animals?
Mom straightened her hat. “Ted, you watch Mitsi while we find some supplies.” The three adults headed out, leaving Mitsi and Ted alone in their new home.
The lady next door bawled even louder.
“Pull up a seat.” Ted patted one of the suitcases.
Mitsi clutched Chubby Bear close. She sat.
“Want to see my new trick?” He wiggled a number two pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s called the Rubber Pencil.”
There was only one magic trick Mitsi wanted Ted to perform and that was for him to wave his black wand and whisk them all home. She covered her ears to block out the sounds of the lady crying. It cannot be helped, Mitsi thought, remembering her grandmother’s favorite expression. It cannot be helped. Even so, Mitsi wanted to sob, like their neighbor lady.
Instead, she said, “Yes. I want to see your new trick.”
Mitsi had never eaten a Vienna sausage before, but in the first three days at Camp Harmony, they were served three times. That was three times too many. The first night, she’d reached under the table to slip her serving to Dash before she remembered he wasn’t there. Another reason to miss him: He would have gobbled the disgusting things right up.
She also had never had to wait in such long lines to use a bathroom before. If you could call them bathrooms. They were more like the outhouse in Uncle Shig’s field, only with more holes and more smells. And no dividers between the holes. No privacy. Mitsi tried holding it the second day; that was nearly a disaster. Then she found a cardboard box behind the canteen. It was big enough for her to sit under while she went. She could still hear other people, but she couldn’t see them.
The food was awful, yet three times a day, at seven thirty and eleven thirty and five, Mitsi and her family waited outside the mess hall with everyone else in Area A, sometimes in the rain. At least it was something to do. There was a rumor of spaghetti for dinner tonight. Mitsi’s favorite! She hoped it wasn’t just a rumor.
Finally, they stepped into the dining room and picked up their trays. Mitsi sniffed the air. It sure smelled like spaghetti! When she saw someone twirling long strands of noodles around a fork, she almost cheered.
When it was her turn, she held up her tray. The server quickly dished up noodles and sauce and green beans, tucking a slice of bread on the side of the plate.
“There you go,” he told Mitsi.
“Thank you.” Mitsi scanned the room.
The news of a Vienna sausage–free meal had brought more people to the mess hall than usual. She stood on her tiptoes and looked all around to find five places together.
“I see some spots,” Mom said. “This way.” By the time they got there, two of them were taken.
“Over here. Over here.” Three wrinkled ladies, looking like a trio of dried plums, waved to Obaachan. They slid together on the bench to make room. “Come. Sit.”
Obaachan nodded. “For tonight,” she said to Mom. She hobbled over to join the dried-plum ladies.
“Hey, Magic!” A boy jumped up, flagging Ted’s attention.
“Hey, Frank. I mean, Lefty.” Ted started to walk toward a table of junior high boys.
“Mom!” Mitsi couldn’t believe it. He didn’t even ask permission. “We have to sit together.”
Mom sighed. “It’s just for one night,” she said.
Pop found a place for the three of them. He and Mom tucked into their dinners as if nothing was wrong. But Mitsi couldn’t stomach one bite. She felt like she’d ridden too many times on the merry-go-round, dizzy and confused.
At home, each person had an assigned place. Pop sat at the head of the table, Mom at the foot near the stove so she could jump up quickly if she needed to get something. And she always seemed to need to jump up and get something. Ted sat on the wall side of the table, all by himself. Mitsi and Obaachan sat next to each other, opposite Ted, with Mitsi next to Pop and Obaachan next to Mom. No matter what was happening in the world, or at school, her heart always felt a little lighter after setting the table with five plates and five sets of silverware, each in their proper places. It was something to count on. Something she had always counted on.
Mitsi skipped dessert and went straight to their room after dinner. She opened up her suitcase, carefully folding her plaid dress and extra set of dungarees before placing them inside.
Ted ran in and grabbed his football. “What are you doing?”
“I want to be ready to go home,” she told him. “As soon as General DeWitt says so.”
“That might be a while,” Ted said.
Mitsi ignored him and kept packing. There was something worse at this camp than eight-foot-high barbed wire fences and soldiers with guns at the gates. It was what was happening to her family. They were dandelion puffs being blown by the softest breeze.
“You’re just going to have to unpack it tomorrow.” Ted shook his head.
“Maybe not.” Mitsi pushed a pair of stockings into the corner of the bag.
“Maybe so.” Ted rolled the football in his hands, then ran outside.
Mitsi didn’t care what he thought. She latched her bag when it was packed, and wedged it under her cot, right near her head, so she could grab it the second General DeWitt gave the word.
A few mornings later, the mess hall was nearly empty. A bad batch of Vienna sausages sent a lot of people to bed. Or running to the latrines. Since Mitsi’s family had declared war on the vile things, they had dodged the diarrhea outbreak. Though they weren’t in their proper places, the family sat together for three days straight. Mitsi actually began to relax, to feel like they could be a family again, even at this crummy camp.
But the bout of food poisoning passed, and one June morning, the mess hall was as crammed as ever. Ted grabbed his oatmeal and headed for the table with his new friends. They’d given one another nicknames: Ted was Magic, Henry was Tank, Tom was Skip, and Frank was Lefty. And Pudge was Pudge.
“Show us another trick, Magic,” Tank said.
“Yeah, make my sister disappear,” said Lefty. They all howled, like that was a real funny joke.
At the table with Mom and Pop — Obaachan was sitting with the dried-plum ladies — Mitsi stabbed her spoon at her bowl. Her mood was as lumpy as the oatmeal. It turned even lumpier when she stepped outside and right into a mud puddle.
“My anklet!” It looked like she’d dipped it into chocolate syrup. “It’s ruined.”
“Mud washes out,” Mom said. “Thank goodness the laundry room is finally up a
nd going. Let’s go get you some clean socks.” She reached for Mitsi’s hand as though Mitsi was a little kid.
She shook her mother off. “I hate it here.” She bent over and tried to wring the muddy water from the lace trim. It would never wash white again. “I want to go home.”
Mom and Pop exchanged glances. Pop sighed. “I doubt you’ll find one person who wants to be here.”
Mitsi held up her hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t say it. Don’t say ‘it cannot be helped.’ ”
“I wasn’t going to.” Pop nudged his hat farther back on his head. “I was going to say that we are lucky. Think of Mrs. Iseri and that young Mrs. Tokuda, whose husbands are far away. At least we are all together.”
Mom slipped her arm around Pop’s. “That’s a big thing to be thankful for.”
Mitsi didn’t say anything. Lucky? They weren’t lucky. And they weren’t all together. What about Dash? And didn’t Mom and Pop see what was happening with Ted? Even Obaachan had spent the past several afternoons drinking tea and knitting with the other grandmothers. Their family wasn’t together. It was crumbling apart. Was she the only one who saw that?
“The time here won’t seem so bad if you try to make the best of it,” Mom continued. “What about asking those girls over there if you can play with them?” She pointed to three girls about Mitsi’s age, crowded together on a stoop, out of the drizzle and mud, playing jacks.
“They look like they’re having fun,” Pop said.
“Jacks is a baby game. Besides, my sock is wet.” Mitsi stomped off. At their room, she stripped off her socks and shoes and flopped onto her cot. The straw crinkled under her. Her leg began to itch. She scratched at two red bumps on her calf. It’d been a few days since the mattress had been aired out. It was probably full of fleas. How could you make the best of something so awful?
Mom and Pop stepped inside, shaking off their damp coats before hanging them on the hooks Pop had nailed to the wall. Mitsi rolled away from her parents, wrapping her arms around Chubby Bear. He smelled like Dash. It was too much. She tossed him to the foot of her bed. Caddie Woodlawn lay on the floor where she’d dropped it. Even though she’d practically memorized the book, she bent over and picked it up, flipping it open to a dog-eared page. Then she slapped it closed again. Her heart couldn’t take the part about Caddie’s dog dying. She rolled onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm.