by Kirby Larson
“Why don’t you get out your sketch pad and crayons?” Pop was piecing together some bits of scrap wood he’d collected. Like he was doing a jigsaw puzzle. “Or would you rather help me with Mom’s nightstand?”
Mitsi peeked out from under her arm. The wood Pop was working with was all different colors, but the way he’d arranged them was beautiful. Prettier than anything Frederick & Nelson sold in their furniture department.
Mom rummaged around in her things. “Here you go.” She held the art supplies out to Mitsi.
“I’m missing a long piece, here,” Pop said. “I’ll be back soon.” He slipped back into his coat.
“I don’t feel like drawing.” Mitsi had gone to a lot of trouble to make that picture of Dash for the letter to General DeWitt, and what good had it done? It hadn’t changed one thing. Mrs. Bowker was wrong after all. Mitsi couldn’t make magic with her art. At least, not when it really mattered.
“Drawing might make the time pass more quickly.” Mom set the pad and pencils on Mitsi’s cot. “Wait, Shiro. I’ll go with you.” Her parents left together.
Nothing could make the time pass more quickly. Mitsi felt like she was in one long game of freeze tag. She had been tagged and nothing could unfreeze her. Not new friends, not anything. Except going home. To Dash. She felt herself turning to stone, like she really was frozen. She pulled a picture she’d drawn of Dash out of her sketch pad. It was the one of him with one ear up and one ear folded over; she stroked the page as if to unfold his ear. A tear plopped onto the drawing, wrinkling the top of Dash’s muzzle. The more she looked at the picture, the worse she felt. It was too hard in this awful place without him. And too hard to think about him. Mitsi tore one long strip off the picture. Then another. Soon, there were a dozen long strips. She tore those into squares and then smaller squares. Before she knew what was happening, her drawing was a pile of confetti on her bed. Only confetti was for something good, like a party or a parade. She scooped up the mess and tossed it into the potbelly stove.
It would be breaking Mom’s rules, but Mitsi had to get out of there. She tied her Keds and ran out the door. She kept running, past barrack after barrack. A stitch in her side slowed her up, but she kept running. She ran until she couldn’t run anymore.
She found herself near the main gates. Dozens of people congregated outside the barbed wire fence. What were they doing? Every once in a while, Mitsi saw the flash of a camera: a reporter taking a photo for the newspaper. It’d probably be printed in the paper above a caption like JAPS HAPPY TO BE SAFE IN NEW HOMES, or some other kind of lie.
There were so many people near the gate that Mitsi wondered what would happen if she walked right through. Would one of the guards up there in that tower even be able to see her? Would there be an alarm? Would someone shoot?
Mitsi took a step toward the gate. And another.
Then someone grabbed her arm. She screamed.
“Geez Louise, Mits.” Ted let go. “It’s just me.”
Mitsi swallowed her heart back into her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Making money.” Ted jingled coins in his pocket. “I racked up fifty cents yesterday.”
Curiosity calmed her nerves. “How?”
“People from the outside come up and ask us to tell their friends that they’ve come to visit, and to meet them in the reception room.” Ted tugged on his cap. “It doesn’t even matter if you can’t find them.”
“You mean you take the money without delivering the message?”
“Well, I haven’t. Not yet.” Ted scratched a flea bite on his neck. “But Lefty has. He says someone like you could clean up because you look so sweet.”
Mitsi stuck her tongue out at her brother.
“Of course, he doesn’t know you very well.” Ted grabbed Mitsi around the head and gave her a Dutch rub. “Besides, you’re such a baby around strangers.”
She wriggled loose from his grip. “I’m not a baby.”
“Think of all those root beer barrels you could buy.” Ted smacked his lips.
“I don’t like root beer barrels,” Mitsi lied.
“Suit yourself. Hey, Lefty!” Ted jogged away.
All that running had left Mitsi prickly and sweaty, but feeling miserable suited her fine right now. Why did Ted have to hang around with that Frank? And those stupid nicknames. Mitsi could think of a better one for Frank than Lefty: Goon-brain. She didn’t like the way he was taking Ted over, like they were best buddies. There was something about Lefty that reminded her of a weasel. Or worse. She started back to her family’s room, hoping she’d get back before Mom and Pop did. She wasn’t supposed to go out in the camp by herself. Mitsi exhaled through her nose. She doubted they could think of any punishment worse than being in this rotten place.
On Tuesday, Mom read out loud from the Camp Harmony newsletter. “There’s a movie tonight in the mess hall,” she said. “Do you want to go?”
“No, thank you,” said Mitsi.
On Wednesday, Obaachan said, “Come with me to knitting club.”
“I want to finish my book,” said Mitsi.
By Thursday, the rain had stopped and the sun began to dry up the mud and mess. Pop carried in another armful of scrap lumber. Now he was making Mom a small chest of drawers. “Some of the boys have made a couple of baseball teams and there’s a game this afternoon. Shall we go watch?”
Everyone said yes, except Mitsi. “I’ll get eaten alive by the mosquitos.”
Mom and Pop shared a look over Mitsi’s head. “It’s not healthy to stay inside all the time,” said Mom.
“I don’t,” said Mitsi. “I go to the mess hall. Three times a day.” She turned the page and reread another chapter of Caddie Woodlawn.
On Friday, Mom held out Mitsi’s shoes. “I’ve found out where Mrs. Tokuda lives. We’re going to pay her a visit.”
“I don’t want to go.” Mitsi pulled the scratchy olive-drab blanket over her head.
“I don’t recall asking whether you wanted to or not.” Mom dropped the shoes on the cot.
There were dark circles under Mrs. Tokuda’s eyes that Mitsi hadn’t remembered. “We’ll watch the children.” Mom picked up baby Donna. “You go take a nice long shower.”
“I couldn’t,” said Mrs. Tokuda.
“Go.” Mom rocked the baby in her arms. “You need the break.”
While Mrs. Tokuda gathered her shower things, Mitsi gave Davy the set of blocks Pop had made from wood scraps. Over and over, he stacked them up and then, with a shriek of delight, knocked the tower down.
Mrs. Tokuda came back from the showers smelling of rosewater, toweling her damp hair. “That was heaven,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
Mitsi and Mom were a barracks or two away from their room when Mom stopped. “Oh, I left my hat!”
“I’ll get it.”
“We’ll both go.”
Mitsi put her hands on her hips. “Mom. I’m not a baby. It’s not that far. I’ll come right back.”
“Wait until you’re a mom, then you’ll know how hard it is to let your little girl grow up.” Mom tugged on Mitsi’s braid. “Okay. Okay. Straight there and straight home.”
“Mother!” Mitsi turned back toward Mrs. Tokuda’s barracks.
The smell of cigarette smoke wafted around her head as she passed one of the shower houses. Pop didn’t smoke, but lots of the men at camp did, especially the old guys. They’d get their last puffs in before heading in to shower. The shower room door was propped open and Mitsi caught a glimpse of a row of plaid bathrobes hanging from hooks outside the shower area.
And there was a person there, too. A kid. It looked like he was rifling through the pockets of one of the robes. Mitsi slowed. Looked again.
Lefty.
She backpedaled, searching for a place to get out of view. He came out, strutting down the steps. He didn’t seem to see her. But she saw him. Stuffing something into the pockets of his chinos. Something that no doubt belonged to someone else.
Mitsi hung back until he was gone. Then she went to the Tokudas’ and headed home, carrying a secret along with Mom’s hat.
“If it’s Vienna sausages again, I’m not eating.” Mitsi folded her arms across her chest.
“If it’s Vienna sausages again,” said Pop, “I’ll join your hunger strike.”
Mom clucked her tongue, but her father’s joke made Mitsi smile, despite herself.
For the first time in ages, the Kashinos found five seats together in the mess hall. And at the same table as Mrs. Tokuda. Davy squirmed around, pretending to eat his chipped beef on toast. Little Donna slept in a baby seat on the bench.
“How are you doing?” Mom asked.
“Fine. Thank you.” Mrs. Tokuda’s hand went to a silver locket hanging around her neck.
“What a pretty necklace.” Mom said the very words Mitsi was thinking.
Mrs. Tokuda opened the locket. “My husband. This way he is always near me.” Like Mr. Iseri, Mr. Tokuda had been sent to Fort Missoula. Mom, Obaachan, and Mitsi peered at the tiny photograph inside the locket. As tiny as it was, Mitsi could see that Mr. Tokuda looked like a very nice man. Like the kind of father who would give Davy horsey rides and sing “Rock-a-bye” to baby Donna.
Mitsi’s hand went to her own neck, imagining just such a locket hanging there. With Dash’s photo inside. Always near.
“I got a letter from him yesterday.” Mrs. Tokuda clicked the locket shut. “That always makes things easier.” The baby started to fuss.
“I could hold her while you eat,” Mom offered.
“Oh, I couldn’t.” But Mrs. Tokuda looked like she could.
Mom reached for the baby.
Ted did a magic trick with the silverware, which made both Davy and Obaachan laugh. And Mitsi got Davy to eat almost all of his dinner by pretending each bite was an airplane zooming into the hangar.
The chipped beef wasn’t as good as Mom’s, but there was chocolate cake for after, and the man serving dessert gave Mitsi a piece with extra frosting. Mrs. Tokuda skipped dessert. “Bedtime for these two,” she explained.
“We’ll look for you tomorrow,” Mom said. After Mrs. Tokuda left, she turned to Mitsi. “You should go over there again. Entertain Davy so she can get a break.”
“He likes Ted better.” Mitsi dug into her cake. Ted didn’t take the bait. She caught him glancing over his shoulder to the table where his friends were sitting. Friends! She glared at Lefty. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen.
Ted pushed his plate aside. “May I be excused?” He scooted back on the bench, poised to jump up.
At home, no one left the table until everyone was finished. But now Pop said, “Sure, son.”
Was she the only one who could see that Lefty meant trouble? All those good feelings drained away. The only dessert Mitsi wanted was family. All together. All in one place. And Ted away from Lefty. She picked at the rest of her cake.
A few minutes later, Ted returned with Lefty and some of his other new friends in tow. “We’re going to see if there’s any mail yet. You want to come along, Mits?”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mom.
Mitsi was about to say no, but Pop reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters. “Get yourselves a treat at the canteen.” He handed them the coins.
Mitsi had been to the canteen only once since it opened. With Mom, of course. Like the neighborhood store back home, it was stocked with Nehi sodas, penny candy, Popsicles, and bubble gum. Mitsi turned the coin over in her hand. No amount of money would buy what she really wanted.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Ted tugged Mitsi’s sleeve.
“Go on.” Mom waved her away. “Have some fun.”
Fun. Right. With Ted and his dumb friends. She stayed put.
“Or you could come with Pop and me to the block meeting.” Mom dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
Mitsi got up and followed Ted and his noisy crew. Why did they push each other around? All that shoving. It seemed so juvenile. She had never seen Ted act like this before. Maybe she should learn magic, too, so she could turn him back into the way he was before Camp Harmony.
The boys wound their way around this barrack and that, with Mitsi following a safe distance behind. They passed some younger boys gathered in a circle for a game of marbles. Frank — Lefty — stomped right through the circle, sending the marbles spinning away. He reached down and picked up an aggie, pocketing it with a swagger.
“Hey!” a kid yelled. “That’s mine.”
“Finders keepers.” Lefty towered over the kid.
“Aw, let him have it back,” Ted said.
Lefty gave Ted a look. Then he shrugged. “If you say so, Magic.” He flicked the marble at the kid, clipping him on the shoulder. Mitsi noticed a marble at her feet. She picked it up and gave it to one of the younger boys.
“Is that your brother?” he asked, looking at Lefty.
“No.” Mitsi pointed to Ted. “That one is.”
The boy nodded. “Lucky for you,” he said.
She nodded, too. Lucky for her. Ted was a nice guy. A good big brother. Why was he hanging around with a bully like Lefty? It didn’t add up.
With a longing glance over her shoulder, Mitsi started after her brother and his so-called friends.
All those years of collecting for his paper route had made Ted brave with people he didn’t know. He walked right into the little Area A post office and up to the man behind the window. “Kashino,” he said. “The Shiro Kashino family.”
The man flipped through a stack of letters. “Is Mitsi Kashino any relation?” he asked.
Mitsi’s ears perked up. Ted pointed. “That’s her.”
“Well, it looks like you have some mail, little sister.” The man smiled big around two missing teeth. Ted motioned her to come to the window, but Mitsi hung back near the door. Missing teeth were cute in first graders. Creepy in adults.
The man chuckled and passed an envelope through the grille in the window.
Ted glanced at the return address. “Guess who it’s from.” He brought the letter over to Mitsi, waving it above her head.
“Miss Wyatt?” she guessed, feeling guilty that she hadn’t written to thank her teacher for the sketchbook.
Ted shook his head. She grabbed for the letter. “Mrs. Bowker?”
“Nope.” He waggled the letter out of her reach.
“I can’t guess.” Mitsi crossed her arms. “Who is it from?”
Ted shrugged. “Heck if I know. Someone named D.K.” He held it out to her.
“I’ve got it!” Lefty snagged the envelope and began to run.
“That’s mine!” Mitsi chased him all the way to the canteen, where he stopped, holding the envelope over a garbage can. She ran at Lefty, but he stiff-armed her, smirking while she flailed away.
“That’s enough.” Ted jogged up to them. “Give it to her.”
“Give it to her? Make me.” Lefty jabbed the envelope at Mitsi with one hand, and boxed at Ted with the other. Ted boxed back and they roughhoused around. What a bunch of baboons. While Lefty was deflecting one of Ted’s swings, she snatched the envelope away, smoothing it out.
“Come on, guys.” Pudge jerked his thumb toward the canteen. “I want to get a Baby Ruth.” That broke up the wrestling match, but the boys kept clowning around when they got inside the store. Mitsi stayed far away from them; she could see trouble coming. And it did. Someone shoved Lefty, and when he shoved back, a tower of saltine cracker boxes cascaded to the floor.
The canteen manager hustled out from behind the counter. “You boys want to come back here again, you pick that up.” He pointed at the mess. “Pronto.”
The boys stopped laughing. Even though he hadn’t knocked them over, Ted started picking up boxes right away. So did Pudge. Finally, Lefty helped, too.
Disgusted with the boys, Mitsi turned her attention to the envelope in her hands. It was postmarked Seattle. But who was D.K.?
She peeled back the flap and pulled out a typ
ewritten letter.
Dear Mitsi,
I am doing fine. That bone you left for me is safely buried under Mrs. Bowker’s dahlias. Today, I chased three squirrels but didn’t catch any. I’m sure I’ll catch one tomorrow!
I had a hard time the first night here. Mrs. Bowker petted me until I fell asleep. It wasn’t the same as sleeping with you, but it helped.
We walked over to the drugstore to take in some film to be developed. Mrs. Bowker says soon she will have something extra special to mail to you. I don’t think it will be a bone. That wouldn’t fit in a letter.
Mrs. Bowker says to tell you I am a very good dog. I haven’t chewed one slipper or chased one car.
Woof! Woof!
Dash
The boys argued over how Ted should spend his quarter. Mitsi tuned them out. She also tuned out the chime of the cash register and the door creaking open and closed. All she could think about was Dash. She read the letter three times.
“Ready to head back, Mits?” Ted asked.
“What?” She shook her head, as if waking up from a long nap. Ted was munching on a long rope of something red. She shook her head again, coming back to earth. There was her brother chewing on a red licorice rope. She blinked. What was on that display behind him? Paper. Pens.
“In a minute.” She picked out and paid for some writing materials. Mom already had stamps.
Mitsi carried her purchases and the letter from Dash back to their room.
“I knew Dash could speak and roll over,” Pop teased, “but I didn’t know he could write.”
Mitsi made a little desk by balancing her suitcase on her knees. She thought hard about what she would write before she put one stroke of the pen to paper. She didn’t want to send a letter with any cross-outs. She knew it wasn’t Dash writing to her. Mrs. Bowker was just being nice. But it was fun thinking of writing to him. Fun to think of writing to her one true friend. And she didn’t know anyone else with a four-legged pen pal. She picked up the pen and began.