by Kirby Larson
Mitsi had never met anyone quite as enthusiastic as Debbie. It was no wonder she was green-bean thin, with all that jumping and twirling and pliéing.
“She just wrote a letter,” Debbie said.
“What?” Now Mitsi felt like she was the one who’d been twirling around.
“Mom. She wrote to one of our friends, sent them the money, and they bought my glasses.” Debbie drew her fingers to a point on either side of her eyes. “Cat’s-eye frames. Blue.”
“Those will look good on you.” Mitsi did a little twirl herself. What if she wrote to Mrs. Bowker and asked her to buy a locket for Dash’s photo? She rested her fingers on her throat. With a locket, she could carry him with her everywhere.
One small problem. How would she pay for it?
“Favorite book?” Debbie quizzed.
“What? Oh, Betsy, Tacy —” Mitsi stopped. The Betsy, Tacy, and Tib books had been her favorites. Back when things like Mitsi sandwiches still existed. “Caddie Woodlawn,” she said.
Debbie did a cheerleader jump. “Mine, too!”
“I brought a copy,” Mitsi offered. “If you didn’t.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Debbie hopped in circles around Mitsi. “And you can borrow anything from me. I have a regular library. I even brought a set of encyclopedias.” She clapped her hands to either side of her cheeks. “I can’t believe it. You brought Caddie Woodlawn!”
As they neared the Area A post office by the main gate, Mitsi could see crowds of people on the other side of the high fence. She remembered what Ted had said about delivering messages. And how Lefty said she’d be good at it.
But it would mean talking to strangers. A lot of strangers. Mitsi wasn’t sure she could do that. Not even for a locket.
“Aren’t you coming?” Debbie held the door open, kicking dirt off her shoes.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Mitsi stamped her feet, too, then followed Debbie inside, walking the letter over to the man with the missing teeth. “Hi, Mel.”
“Well, hey, Mitsi. Long time, no see.” He chuckled because he saw her nearly every day. “Who’s your partner in crime there?”
“This is Debbie.” Mitsi tugged her forward. “We’re in the same grade.” She stood on tiptoes to hand the envelope to Mel. “Anything today?”
He shook his head. “Sorry about that.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Mitsi said.
“That’s the attitude.” Mel saluted her. “Nice to meet you, Debbie.”
Debbie nodded. The girls went back outside.
“You are so brave!” Debbie shivered. “He’s kind of creepy-looking.”
“I was a little scared of him at first, too.” The truth was that she’d been a lot afraid of Mel. “But not anymore.” Two old ladies passed them, walking arm in arm. Mitsi bent her knees.
“No more pliés.” Debbie held up her hand. “I challenge you to a game of hink pink. I’ll go first.” She scrunched up her face, thinking. “Got it! A hog’s hairpiece.”
Mitsi took a wild guess. “Pig wig!”
Debbie grinned. “Your turn.”
“A rodent’s residence.”
Debbie whooped. “Mouse house!” They played back and forth, moving on to Hinky Pinky, where Mitsi stumped her with “a baseball player who just got a raise.”
“I have no idea.” Debbie shook her head. “I don’t know much about baseball.”
Mitsi giggled. “A richer pitcher!”
“I’m going to remember that one!” They’d reached Debbie’s barracks. She hopped up each step, pausing at the top with her hand on the doorknob. “This was my best day in camp.”
“Mine, too.” Mitsi paused. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be your friend who fell in the dirt.” Debbie held up her dirty shoes. Even when it wasn’t raining, it was impossible to stay out of the muck. “Your muddy buddy, get it?”
“Got it! See you tomorrow?”
“It’s a date!” Debbie disappeared inside her room.
Mitsi smiled. Wasn’t it funny that someone like Debbie thought Mitsi was brave? All because she talked to Mel. Maybe she could be brave enough to talk to strangers. Mitsi took careful steps to dodge another mud puddle. She wondered how much a locket like Mrs. Tokuda’s cost.
The little runny-nosed boy from Block 3 ran up behind Mitsi, tugging on her shirt. “I’m gonna get a dog just like yours when I grow up.”
“I bet you will,” Mitsi told him. She crossed the way toward Barracks 52. Somehow the mud didn’t seem so muddy. The buildings seemed more solid. Mitsi thought she could even see a bit of blue sky behind the clouds above.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Pop said that night at dinner. Mitsi was cozied between him and Mom.
Mitsi took a sip of her milk. “I was thinking that Dash really is a magician, like Ted.”
“He is?” Pop said.
“Yep.” Obaachan and the dried-plum ladies waved at her from their table. Mitsi waved back. “Even from far away, he’s turning this camp into a friendlier place.”
Pop wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close. Mitsi poked at her burned scalloped potatoes. “I just wish he could do something about the food!”
Mitsi gobbled up her oatmeal and downed her milk. “May I be excused?”
“Where’s the fire?” Pop asked.
“Are you going to go play with that girl you met yesterday?” Mom asked. “Debbie?”
“Yeah. And I’m kind of late.” It was true that Mitsi was going to play with Debbie. Just not today; Debbie had gotten a pass out of camp with her mom for some reason. She said they’d be gone for a few days. And it was true that Mitsi was late. What if other kids beat her to the fence, got all the jobs? Mitsi slid off the bench. “See you at lunch.”
It had rained again overnight and the mud puddles were mucky booby traps. She tried to weave around them, but there were too many. Her shoes looked two sizes bigger by the time she got to the fence. She scraped the mud off as best she could on one of the posts. She wanted to make a good impression.
There were tons of kids like Mitsi hanging around. But there were lots of people outside the fence, too. There could be jobs for all of them. Ted and Lefty and those other boys were bunched up not far from the sentry post. She staked out a spot as far away from them as she could.
Imagining the cool weight of a locket on her neck, Mitsi took a deep breath for courage, then edged closer to the fence. It wasn’t long before she heard, “Little girl. Little girl,” and spied a woman waving at her. Mitsi angled closer to where the woman was standing, the fence a tall, prickly wall between them. “Do you know the Terados?” the woman asked.
“I know Mrs. Tokuda,” she offered.
“Terado.” The woman fished a piece of paper from her pocketbook. “Area A, Barracks 30, Apartment 4.”
Thirty wasn’t too far from the gate. “I can run tell them you’re here,” Mitsi said.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you.”
Mitsi stood there, wondering when the money part happened.
“Apartment 4, you said?”
“Yes. A-30-4.” The woman opened her pocketbook but only to put away the piece of paper.
“Okay. Who shall I say is here?” Mitsi put her hands in her pockets, fluffing them out, hoping the woman would get the idea.
“Mae Lindquist,” she said. “Their neighbor.”
“Lindquist.” Mitsi nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll meet them in there.” Mae Lindquist pointed at the reception room.
Mitsi sighed. “I’ll tell them.” So much for easy money!
She delivered the message and ran back to the fence. Some other kids were in her spot now. One kid pocketed a whole quarter for taking a message.
“Hello. Hello!” A teenager flagged Mitsi’s attention. “I’m looking for Ellen Hayashi. Do you know her?”
“Do you have her address?” Mitsi asked.
The girl gave it to her. It was close by, too. “Be right back!” Mitsi started off.
“Wait, wait!” The teenager stuck her hand through the fence. “Here’s something for your trouble.”
Mitsi took the dime. “Thank you!” After delivering that message, Mitsi got three more to deliver and three more tips. As the morning went on, she moved slower and slower, weighed down by the goo caking up on her shoes. By lunchtime, forty-five cents jingled in her pocket.
And her shoes were bricks of mud. Too mucky to wear inside, she left them outside the mess hall. She got her tray, found Mom and Pop sitting with Mrs. Iseri. Mom didn’t comment on Mitsi’s stocking feet. She and Mrs. Iseri were studying a Sears, Roebuck catalog.
“I can’t take the fleas anymore. I’m sending for that mattress,” Mrs. Iseri said. “Reverend Andrews said he could bring it down in his truck.” She sneezed. “And I think I’m allergic to hay!”
“You poor thing.” Mom patted her arm. “Do you mind if I look through the catalog later? Ted needs new trousers. He’s grown an inch since we arrived. At least.”
Mrs. Iseri pushed the catalog toward her. “I’m done with it for now.” She poked at the cabbage roll on her plate. “I think I’m done with this, too.” She made a face and shoved her plate aside. “Could I get you some more tea?”
“I’d love some.” Mom stood up, too. “But I’ll come with you.”
Mitsi turned the catalog around and began flipping through it. There had to be a section with lockets. She licked her finger, turning page after page, faster and faster. Finally, after washing machines and lingerie and baby clothes, she found the jewelry. She pored over the page. There at the bottom was a picture of a locket like the one she’d imagined. A silver oval, with a curlicue design on the front, hanging from a silver chain. She read the description, then ran her finger over to the price. Three dollars and ninety-five cents. It had taken her three hours to earn forty-five cents. At this rate, she’d have to work twenty-seven hours.
She shut the catalog and did some mental math. If she worked three hours every day, it would take … nine days. She let her head drop to the table. Nine days!
“Are you feeling okay?” Mom placed her hand on the back of Mitsi’s head. Mitsi sat up.
“Yes.” She sighed. “Mom, do you have any chores I could do?”
“Now I know you’re not feeling well.” Mom laughed. “What kind of chores?”
“Chores that I could get paid for?”
Mom shook her head. “Mitsi, you know how Pop and I feel about that. We’re all part of this family —”
“So we all do our part.” Mitsi picked a raisin out of the carrot-raisin salad on her plate and put it in her mouth. She didn’t even like raisins.
“I could use a hand,” Mrs. Iseri said. “Carrying my laundry basket to the laundry house.”
Mitsi perked up. “Okay!” This was more like it.
Mom gave Mitsi the look.
“I mean, I’d be happy to do that, Mrs. Iseri.” Mitsi swallowed the raisin. “No charge.”
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Iseri reached across the table to tap Mitsi’s hand. “Are you free tomorrow after breakfast?”
Mitsi couldn’t believe it. She had gotten herself into a pickle. “Sure.”
After lunch, Mitsi picked up her shoes from outside the mess hall. She sat on the fence rail to put them on. Clumps of mud dangled from the laces like dried-up slugs.
“That’s a big mess,” Mr. Hirai observed as he passed by.
“I know,” Mitsi said. “I’m a mud magnet.” She finished tying her sneakers and clomped off. “See you later!”
Rain pounding on the roof woke Mitsi later that night. Thunder rumbled in the distance and, pow, a bolt of lightning lit up the room. Mitsi blinked to clear her vision. It seemed like the door was moving, one tiny inch at a time. She blinked again and caught Ted sliding through the opening and into the room. He shrugged out of his jacket and jeans, sending a wave of something stale in Mitsi’s direction. Cigarette smoke. She scrunched her eyes closed so he wouldn’t know she was awake. When had he gone out? And where? It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this mystery had something to do with Lefty.
The cot next to her creaked as Ted got under the covers. He was snoring in no time. She leaned up on one elbow. Asleep, he looked as innocent as a baby. She lay back down, saying a prayer that he was.
Overnight, the storm turned the camp walkways to chocolate sludge. Right after breakfast, Mitsi slogged her way to the front gate. She got a job first thing. But it was a message for some people at the very far end of Area A, in Barracks 96.
It would take her forever to get there. And they’d only given her a ten-cent tip. She reached for the dime in her pocket. They wouldn’t know if she didn’t deliver the message. Lots of kids took tips and didn’t follow through. She tugged her foot out of a pile of goo. Not lots of kids. One kid. Lefty. She started off again. This time, the goo grabbed her shoe and didn’t let go. She walked right out of it.
“Augh!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Stupid mud.” Stupid camp. Stupid everything.
“You okay?” Mr. Hirai hobbled toward her.
“Yes. No. Look at me.” She tugged to free her shoe. “I was just trying to —” Frustration choked off the rest of the sentence.
“I see.” He rubbed his chin. “Looks like you could use some help.”
“I could use some money,” she said.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Money is rarely the answer,” he said. He waved her closer. “Come. Come with me.”
“I have to —”
“Come.” Mr. Hirai started back toward his room.
Mitsi followed, hopping on one foot. She waited on the stoop while he went inside.
“Here is your answer.” He presented her with a pair of wooden sandals.
“Getas?” They were so old-fashioned! Only the elderly Japanese people wore them anymore. “Very nice,” she said politely.
He chuckled, turning the getas sideways so Mitsi could see the long “teeth” on the bottom. “These are perfect for walking in this mud.” He placed them in her hands. “It seems very important for you to be walking in this mud.” Then he tilted his head back and barked three times. “Maybe something to do with Dash?”
Mitsi looked at him. How on earth did he know? “Thank you.” She sat down on the stoop, pulled off her one shoe and her socks, and slipped the hanao, the cloth thong, between her big toes. It felt a little funny. She stood up. The teeth of the sandals clip-clopped against the wooden stoop.
Mr. Hirai chuckled. “Music to my ears.”
Mitsi carefully placed her foot down on the top step and then the next. Her ankles wobbled, but she thought she was getting the hang of it. When she reached the last step, she toppled off the getas.
“Takes some practice,” Mr. Hirai said.
Mitsi took a few steps away from the stoop to the path where the dirt was soft and mucky. She plunked her foot down. “Hey, look!” The teeth of the sandal sunk down, yet her foot was safe from the mud. “These are great.”
“You aren’t the only one who thinks so.” He spread his arms far apart. “There’s a list of people this long that want them. And the younger men don’t know how to make them. Only old coots like me.”
Mitsi teetered over to Mr. Hirai and threw her arms around his neck. “You aren’t an old coot,” she said, a bit embarrassed that she used to think so herself. “Thank you.” She picked up her shoes and socks and made her way back to the front gate, where she got five more jobs and two more tips.
Then she clomped home. Done for the night.
“I’m back!” Debbie called from her front stoop.
“Good-looking glasses.”
Debbie posed. “Do you like them?”
Mitsi nodded.
Debbie noticed Mitsi’s feet. “I used to have some of those.” She looked down at her own muddy shoes. “I bet they come in handy here.”
“Mr. Hirai’s making some, if you want a pair. And they do come in handy.” Mitsi smiled. Thanks to t
he getas, it’d been no trouble getting around that afternoon. She’d earned another dollar. Only two dollars and fifty cents to go. “Do you want to go to the movie tonight? I think it’s Pinocchio.”
Debbie pretended her arms were on strings, like a puppet’s. “I’ll meet you after supper.”
“See you later, then,” said Mitsi.
Debbie pointed to her glasses. “I will definitely see you later.”
Mitsi was awakened by the “Happy Birthday” song.
“You look like a monkey” — Ted’s voice wobbled like an opera singer’s — “and you smell like one, too!”
She threw her pillow at him, catching him on the ear.
“I’m hit!” Ted crashed to the floor, flopping around like a dying fish. “Good-bye, cruel world.”
“Settle down.” Mom unrolled her pin curls. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”
Even Pop had to laugh at that. “A sneezing spider would wake the neighbors,” he pointed out.
Mom fluffed her hair. “He still needs to settle down.”
Mitsi clambered over Ted’s cot and stretched.
“Twelve years old.” Mom gave her a kiss. “How did that happen?”
“This isn’t much.” Pop held out a small bundle, tied up in a red bandanna. Mitsi undid the knots.
“A treasure box!” Pop had become a wizard at making things out of the scraps of wood left over from building Camp Harmony. She knew she shouldn’t hope for anything more, but maybe there’d be some birthday money inside. All she needed was fifty more cents to send for the locket. She lifted the lid. Empty. Still, she breathed in the smell of new wood. “It’s beautiful.”
“Mom painted the flowers on top,” Pop said. “And Obaachan figured out how to line it with flannel.”
“One of my old shirts,” Ted said. “So I helped, too.”
Mitsi cradled the box to her chest. Her family had worked hard to give her this one gift. “I know what I’ll keep in here.” She gathered Dash’s letters from under the cot and set them inside. “Thank you.” She hugged everyone, even Ted.