Dash

by Kirby Larson

  Dear Dash,

  It sounds like you’re having a good time at Mrs. Bowker’s house. I know you’re an expert digger, but please don’t dig up anything. Especially not the tulips.

  Maybe it is a good thing you couldn’t come here. We’re squeezed together in one room like sardines in a can. I have to crawl across Ted’s cot to go to bed.

  We get a lot of Vienna sausages. If you were here, I would be happy to share.

  Mitsi sat back. It might make Dash and Mrs. Bowker sad if she told them too much about Camp Harmony. But they were her best friends. They’d want to know the truth. Mitsi started writing again.

  There are a lot of things I don’t like here. I don’t like waiting in line to use the bathroom. I don’t like everyone sitting in the wrong places at dinner. And I don’t like hearing the people on the other side of the wall. The man snores and the lady cries.

  But there is one thing I do like. Hearing from you. Please keep writing.

  Love,

  Mitsi

  Mom wouldn’t let Mitsi go to the post office by herself. “Ted can walk you,” she said.

  “But I know the way,” Mitsi argued.

  “Did I say you didn’t?” Mom took another stitch on the patch for Ted’s dungarees.

  Mitsi blew her bangs off her forehead. She would never win this argument. Mom still thought of her as a baby, even though she’d be twelve in a few weeks.

  “What’s it worth to you?” Ted asked Mitsi.

  Mom glowered. “Your brother would be delighted to escort you.” She tied a knot in the thread, then snipped it off.

  Ted grabbed his baseball cap. “Come on if you’re coming.”

  It took forever to get there. First, some little kids came running up and asked Ted to show them the Rubber Pencil trick. Of course, he did. Then they walked past the barracks where those boys had been playing marbles. They were getting set up again and closed ranks when they saw Ted.

  “What do you want?” asked the aggie boy.

  “Sorry about yesterday.” Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of marbles. “I’m not going to use these anymore. You guys can have them.”

  “Hey, swell!” A skinny kid with holes in the knees of his corduroys jumped up. He cradled the marbles in his fist, counting. “Three for each of us!” He divvied them out to his friends.

  The aggie boy rolled his share in his hand. “You could play if you want.”

  “I have to take my kid sister to the post office.” Ted jerked his thumb toward Mitsi.

  The skinny kid laughed. “Gonna mail her somewhere?” The other boys joined in.

  Ted stroked a pretend beard, as if considering the idea. “Aw, I guess not. She’s a pretty good egg.”

  Mitsi stuck her tongue out at him and stomped off. Why did Ted have to tease her like that?

  “Wrong way!” Ted called out. The marbles boys laughed.

  Mitsi turned around. “I did that on purpose.” She hoped at least one kid would believe her.

  Several barracks over, Obaachan’s friend, Mr. Hirai, stopped them to ask if their grandmother was over her cold. Mitsi hung back, behind Ted.

  Mr. Hirai was old. His teeth clicked when he talked. Sometimes the top ones slid all the way out of his mouth. It never bothered him. He’d just push them back in. But it gave Mitsi the willies.

  “She said to thank you for that special tea,” Ted said.

  “That is good for colds, that tea.” Mr. Hirai leaned on his walking stick. “I drink that every day of my life. Never get sick. Not even gas!” He tapped his stick for emphasis. Ted busted up, but Mitsi felt the heat rise from her neck to her cheeks, like the mercury in a thermometer. Old people didn’t care what they said sometimes.

  Finally, Mr. Hirai took a breath and Ted jumped in. “We better get going,” he said. “Mom will expect us back.”

  “Fine, yes.” Mr. Hirai waved his free hand. “Obey thy mother and father.” He reached toward Mitsi to pat her head. “You are good children. Not like some here.” He clucked his tongue. “Taking money from old men.”

  Mitsi shot a quick glance at Ted, thinking about Lefty. There’d been notices posted in the shower houses about not leaving valuables in pants and robe pockets. One of their neighbors had lost ten whole dollars before volunteers started keeping a closer eye on things.

  “That is crummy.” Ted shook his head. “We’ve got to get going,” he said. “Sayonara.”

  After all that waiting to get to the post office, Mitsi lost her nerve when she stepped inside. The man with the missing teeth was behind the counter again. She tugged on Ted’s arm. “Will you mail it for me?” She held out the letter.

  “Grow up.” Ted pushed her away. “Mom’s never going to let you go places by yourself if you don’t cut the shy act.”

  “Just this once?” Mitsi made puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

  Ted let out a big sigh. He took the letter and slid it through the bars in the window. “We’d like to mail this.”

  “Sure enough.” The man tossed the envelope behind him into a big bin. He noticed Mitsi by the door. “Kashino, right?”

  Mitsi looked at Ted, barely nodding.

  “Kashino,” Ted repeated. He stood up extra tall. “A-52-101,” he said, giving their full Camp Harmony address.

  The man rubbed his chin. “I think I got something for you.” He disappeared for a moment. When he came back, Mitsi could see he was holding two letters! He passed them through the grille to Ted. Mitsi ran over to see who’d sent them.

  “Are they both for me?” She danced around Ted like Dash used to dance around her when she held out a treat.

  “Don’t be a greedy-guts. This one’s to Mom and Pop.” Ted put one letter in his shirt pocket. He tapped the other against his hand. “What’s this worth to you?”

  “No fair!” She put her hands on her hips. “Give it here.”

  “Maybe your dessert for the next two nights?”

  She squinted. “One night.”

  He scratched his head with the envelope, thinking it over. “Okay. Deal.” He tossed it to her.

  She ripped it open, unfolding the letter right there in the post office.

  “Looks like you lost something there.” The post office man pointed at the floor.

  Ted handed it to her.

  “Oh, it’s the picture Mrs. Bowker took of Dash and me!” Mitsi ran her fingers over it. He seemed so close, she could almost feel his soft fur.

  “Who’s Dash?” Post Office Man leaned over the counter.

  Mitsi was so excited, she forgot all about being afraid of him and his missing-teeth smile. She walked over to the window. “My dog.” She held up the photo.

  The man smiled. Mitsi could see that his blue eyes had a twinkle in them. “That is one good-looking pup,” he said. “I bet he’s smart as a whip.”

  “He can sit, shake, and say his prayers.” Her heart clenched up as she studied the photo. She was glad to have it, but it made her miss Dash all the more. “And he’s a magician. He makes cookies disappear!”

  The post office man laughed.

  Mitsi talked Ted into walking home by way of the Tokudas’ barracks. When Davy saw the picture of Dash, he clapped his pudgy hands. “Doggy say ruff-ruff.” Mrs. Tokuda jiggled the baby in her arms, smiling. “That’s right, honey. Ruff-ruff.” Her locket bounced against her neck as she swung the baby back and forth.

  Mr. Hirai was sitting on a box outside his room. “Ah,” he said. “I had a dog like that once, too. Fido.” He told a long story about Fido. Even though his top teeth slipped out twice, Mitsi listened with interest.

  “You really taught him to count to three?” Mitsi wondered if Dash could learn that, too.

  “Like this.” Mr. Hirai tipped his head back and barked three times. He sounded like a real dog. “See? Three.” He looked at Mitsi and began to chuckle. She couldn’t help joining in.

  “See you later, Mr. Hirai.” Mitsi and Ted started off again, but they hadn’t gone far when the
y met the dried-plum ladies sitting in a row, knitting. They wanted to see the photo, too. “Oooh,” said the plum ladies, their needles clicking in time.

  “Look at those bright eyes,” said one.

  “And those floppy ears,” said another.

  “Better-looking than Fala,” said the third. Mitsi had to agree. The president’s dog wasn’t near as handsome as Dash.

  “Come on, Mits.” Ted tugged on her sleeve. “I was supposed to meet the guys twenty minutes ago.”

  Mitsi hurried along. But she couldn’t help it if people she didn’t even know asked to see Dash’s photo. She wondered how they’d heard about it!

  She saved the letter until she got home. Finally, she sat on her cot, ready to read.

  Dear Mitsi,

  Mrs. Bowker’s peonies are blooming now. They are especially beautiful because of the bone I buried under the biggest bush.

  We went for a drive yesterday. Mrs. Bowker took me to a place called a bank. I felt sorry for her because she only got some funny green paper to put in her pocketbook, while I got a dog biscuit from the bank manager himself! Yum! Afterward, we stopped at the butcher for more bones. And then we went to visit Mrs. Bowker’s cousin, who has a nice dog named Bandit. Bandit and I played “Chase around the Maple Tree,” and “See Who Can Bark the Loudest,” and also “Tug-of-War.” After that, Mrs. Bowker and I went home. Then I took a long, long nap. Mrs. Bowker said I was so tired, I snored.

  I go for a walk every day, right by our old house; I make a wish on the lamppost. I bet you know what I’m wishing for. We check the lock and look around to make sure everything is okay. It is.

  I hear the bag of dog food rattling. That means suppertime!

  I’ll write again tomorrow.

  Your pal,

  Dash

  It sounded like Dash was having a good time with Mrs. Bowker.

  But, hopefully, not too good a time. Mitsi set the photo on her pillow. Though she couldn’t see it in the picture, she knew Dash’s tail was wagging because of that big doggy smile. And that doggy smile made her smile, too, even though she missed him like crazy. That was funny about the lamppost; she didn’t remember telling Mrs. Bowker about how she and Mags used to make wishes on it. Mitsi made another wish now, for a locket like Mrs. Tokuda’s, so she could carry Dash with her wherever she went. At least until they could be together again.

  She picked up her pen to write back.

  Dear Dash,

  I’m glad you made a new buddy. Bandit sounds nice. I made some new friends, too, when I showed off your picture. Everyone thinks you’re handsome. Mr. Hirai used to have a dog like you, too, and said he taught him to count to three. He might have been pulling my leg. But I bet you could learn to count to five.

  Tonight they’re showing a Mickey Mouse movie after supper and I’m going to watch it with Mom and Pop. I know how much you like Mickey Mouse. Wish you were here to watch it with me.

  Be a good boy!

  Love,

  Mitsi

  Every day, Mitsi went to the post office to check for a letter from Dash. Ted went with her but would ditch her if he saw Lefty and the rest of their gang. Mitsi finally convinced Mom that the walk to the post office wasn’t any farther than going to her old school. With a lot more neighbors watching out for her along the way.

  She was headed home with another letter when she noticed an older teenager sitting on a fruit crate, balancing a sketchbook on his knees. His hand darted like a bird over the paper. Mitsi stopped, watching from a distance.

  “I don’t bite,” the kid said, not even looking up from the sketch pad. “You want to see what I’m doing?”

  Mitsi edged closer. “It’s just one of the barracks,” she said when she saw the image on the page. A barracks with the door and window wide open against the heat. Why would anyone want to draw a dumpy old building?

  “I’d rather be drawing something else. But this is what’s here, right?”

  That made sense. Mitsi stood quietly while the guy finished the picture. In the bottom left-hand corner, he wrote his name. Eddie Sato. Next to his signature, he drew an ant.

  She pointed at the ant. “What’s that for?”

  “Ants are hard workers, right?” He shrugged. “Artists gotta be hard workers, too. Always drawing. Always looking.”

  If she were going to draw something next to her signature, it wouldn’t be an ant. It’d be something cuter. Like a dog. Still, Mitsi watched as Eddie wrote something else at the bottom of the page.

  “ ‘Air conditioning,’ ” Mitsi read aloud. She grinned. “That’s pretty funny.” It was like that joke Pop used to make about their car having air conditioning — as long as they rolled all the windows down.

  Eddie flipped to a fresh page. “Just because they put us here, doesn’t mean we have to roll over and take it. Right?” He handed the sketch pad to her. “You want to try something?”

  “No.” Mitsi shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve got to get going.” It had already taken her twice as long to get home because of all the people who’d stopped to ask her what was new with Dash. Mom would worry. “Maybe another time.”

  “See you around.” Eddie shifted on his crate, turning to face a different direction, and started drawing again. With only a few strokes on the page, Mitsi could see that he was drawing the guard tower that loomed over the camp.

  “See you.” Mitsi wondered what kind of caption Eddie would put on that new picture. What kind of caption would she write if it were her drawing? It wouldn’t be anything funny, like Eddie’s, that was for sure.

  “Mitsi, Mitsi!” The cook whose nose looked like a cauliflower came running out of the mess hall. “I made something for you.” He handed her a Popsicle-stick picture frame.

  Mitsi pulled her treasured photo from her shorts pocket. “It’s a perfect fit. Thank you.” Dash’s face popped right out at her.

  “It’s nothing. Now, be sure to tell Mrs. Bowker that milk’s not good for dogs.”

  “I will.” Mitsi nodded. No one made fun of her for getting mail from a dog. Everyone seemed to like the idea. Even the grown-ups.

  Cauliflower Cook smoothed his white apron across his watermelon belly. “I wish they’d let him come, at least for a visit. That’d perk up this place in no time.” He patted Mitsi’s shoulder and went back inside to his work.

  Mitsi started to tuck Dash’s photo back in her pocket when she noticed a girl, about her age, perched on a nearby stoop. She was bent over a book, nose nearly to the page. Mitsi wasn’t sure what came over her, but she called out to the girl. “What are you reading?”

  The girl marked her place with her finger, looking up. Squinting. “Thimble Summer. What’s that picture of?”

  Mitsi held out the snapshot. “My dog. Dash.”

  The girl hopped up from the stoop. “I bet it’s the best, having a dog. May I?”

  Mitsi nodded, and the girl took the photo, holding it closer to her face. “My glasses got broken. Mom sent money to a friend outside to buy me a new pair.” She handed the photo back. “He looks like a sweetheart.”

  “He is. You want to know my favorite thing?” When Mitsi talked about Dash with strangers, she didn’t feel so shy. “Sometimes, he would sleep with his head right here.” She pointed to the side of her neck. “When he did that, I felt like nothing could ever go wrong. That as long as he was with me, I’d be safe.” She rested her hand on her neck, remembering. “Hey, are you okay?”

  A tear trickled down the girl’s cheek. She brushed it away and plunked back down on the stoop. “I couldn’t have a dog because they make my dad sneeze. His eyes swell up like this.” She bugged her eyes out to demonstrate.

  “Maybe you could have one when you’re older.”

  The girl rested her chin on her hands. “I’d rather have my dad.”

  Mitsi didn’t know what to say. The girl seemed lonely. Sad. Like she didn’t have a friend.

  Mitsi tucked the snapshot back in her pocket. “Do you want to go for a wa
lk?”

  The girl jumped up. “I gotta ask my mom.” She stopped, her hand on the door handle. “What’s your name?” Mitsi told her. “I’m Debbie. Be right back.” She ran inside her room and was back in a heartbeat. “Mom said yes!” Debbie waved an envelope. “Can we go to the post office to mail this for Mom?”

  Mitsi smiled. What would Mel say? Twice in one day. “Sure,” she answered.

  Debbie jumped off the stoop, sailing over all three steps.

  “What shall we do?” Debbie brushed herself off when she landed.

  Mitsi wrinkled her forehead. “I thought we were going to the post office.”

  Debbie flapped her hand dismissively. “While we’re walking,” she clarified.

  “We don’t just walk?”

  “Never! Too boring.” Debbie snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. We have to do two pliés for every old lady we see.”

  “How old?” Mitsi asked. “And what’s a plié?”

  “Old.” She bent her legs to the side so that they looked like pointed parentheses. “I study ballet.” She rose back to standing, her arms graceful as swans. “Well, I did.” She shrugged. “I used to do lots of things.”

  Mitsi nodded. She used to do lots of things, too. Like being the filling in a Mitsi sandwich with Judy and Mags. Or playing jacks at recess. Even going to school. It was a nice feeling to walk along with someone who knew about giving up things that mattered.

  “Plié!” Debbie bent down and up twice.

  “That lady wasn’t old,” Mitsi said. “She looks like my mom’s age.”

  “Well, that’s older than us, right?”

  Mitsi couldn’t argue with that. She pliéd, though not as gracefully as Debbie. “Hey, did you say your mom was getting you glasses from outside?”

  Debbie twirled on her tippy-toes. “They should be here any day.”

  “How did she do it?”

  Debbie twirled again and again and again. “Wow. Everything’s spinning.” She braced herself on the corner of the nearest barracks. “Woo.” She pressed her fingers against her temples. “I forgot to spot.”