Red Berries
White Clouds
Blue Sky
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 Sandra Dallas
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dallas, Sandra.
Red berries, white clouds, blue sky / written by Sandra Dallas.
pages cm
Summary: “After Pearl Harbor is bombed by the Japanese, twelve-year-old Tomi and her Japanese-American family are split up and forced to leave their California home to live in internment camps in New Mexico and Colorado” -- Provided by the publisher.
ISBN 978-1-58536-906-5 (hard cover) -- ISBN 978-1-58536-907-2 (paperback)
1. Japanese Americans--Evacuation and relocation, 1942-1945--Juvenile fiction. [1. Japanese Americans--Evacuation and relocation, 1942-1945--Fiction. 2. World War, 1939-1945--United States--Fiction.] I.
Title.
PZ7.D1644Re 2014
[Fic]--dc23
2014004561
ISBN 978-1-58536-906-5 (case)
ISBN 978-1-58536-907-2 (paper)
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Cover illustration by Mick Wiggins
Printed in the United States.
Sleeping Bear Press™
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© 2014 Sleeping Bear Press
visit us at sleepingbearpress.com
For Forrest and his cousins—Bodi, Alex, and Nicholas
TABLE of CONTENTS
1942
Chapter One: The Sign on the Door
Chapter Two: Pop and the FBI
Chapter Three: The End of Scouting
Chapter Four: A Horse-Stall Hotel
Chapter Five: Tallgrass
Chapter Six: Rice and Fruit Cocktail
1943
Chapter Seven: Poor Mrs. Hayashi
Chapter Eight: Making Friends with the Enemy
Chapter Nine: New Neighbors
Chapter Ten: Buying a Tank
Chapter Eleven: Solving Two Problems
Chapter Twelve: Roy and the Royals
Chapter Thirteen: A Christmas Tree for Carl
1944
Chapter Fourteen: The Tallgrass Sky Quilt
Chapter Fifteen: Pop Comes to Tallgrass
Chapter Sixteen: Pop’s Story
Chapter Seventeen: A Second-Class American
Chapter Eighteen: Pop and the Royals
Chapter Nineteen: Roy Joins the Army
Chapter Twenty: Ruth Picks the Winners
Chapter Twenty-One: What’s Wrong with Tomi?
1945
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Contest
Chapter Twenty-Three: Why Pop Came to America
Chapter Twenty-Four: Roy’s Letter
Chapter Twenty-Five: Tomi’s Essay
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Winner
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Why I Am an American
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tomi Meets the Governor
1942 | CHAPTER ONE
THE SIGN on the DOOR
TOMI stopped just outside the grocery store where her mother always shopped and peered through the glass in the door’s window. She loved the smells inside, of sawdust on the floor and of the bread that came in bright wrappers. Just beyond the door, she knew, were orderly displays of fresh fruit and vegetables—fat strawberries in green baskets, rows of corn covered by papery husks, cabbages as big as a baby’s head.
Most of all, Tomi loved the candy displayed in the big glass case. With a penny in her hand, she would choose from among the jumble of Tootsie Rolls, inky black licorice, and other sweets. Today, she thought, looking through the glass, she would pick two jawbreakers from a glass bowl. The jawbreakers were two for a penny, which meant she and her brother Hiro could each have one.
She pushed the door open and heard the jingle of the bell that announced customers entering the store. But just before she stepped onto the old wooden floor, she spotted a sign taped to the window. Her mouth dropped open, and she stopped so abruptly that Hiro ran into her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Tomi turned around. “I left the penny at school,” she said.
“It’s in your hand,” he told her.
Tomi looked down at her fingers, which clutched the coin. “We’re not going in there.”
“Why not?” Hiro asked.
Tomi took her brother’s hand and tried to pull him away, but Hiro refused to move. Then he spied the sign on the door. “What’s that sign say?” he asked.
“I can’t read it,” Tomi said quickly.
“You’re twelve, and you can so read it. I’m seven, and I can read, too.” He squinted as he sounded out the words. Then he looked up at his sister. “It says ‘No Japs.’ That’s not a very nice word, is it?”
Tomi shook her head and tugged at her brother.
“Mom says the word is ‘Japanese.’ ‘Jap’ is a mean word,” Hiro said. He read the sign again, then grinned. “It’s okay, Tomi. We’re not Japanese. We’re Americans. We can go in.”
Just then, a man in a white apron came to the door and stared at Tomi and Hiro.
“Hi, Mr. Akron,” Hiro said. He and Tomi had bought candy from Mr. Akron ever since they could remember.
Mr. Akron looked uncomfortable. He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on, kids. Scram. Can’t you read the sign?” He wiped his hands on his apron.
Tomi stared at him a moment, then said, “Come on, Hiro. Let’s go. They don’t want us here. Besides, who cares about that old candy anyway?” She looked at the ground instead of at her brother or the grocer. Her face was red as she stared at the sidewalk, wishing her mother had never given her the penny. She wanted to be anywhere but in front of the store where the man thought she was a Jap.
“How come we can’t come in?” Hiro asked.
The grocer ran his finger around the inside of his collar. “You Japs bombed Pearl Harbor,” he said, then turned and went inside, closing the door.
“Me and Tomi didn’t bomb anybody,” Hiro called through the glass, but Mr. Akron ignored him.
“Come on, Hiro!” Tomi yanked her brother along the sidewalk. She walked with her head down. Her hair hid her face; she hoped nobody would recognize her. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.
“I don’t understand. What’s Pearl Harbor?” Hiro asked, stumbling along beside his sister. “Why won’t he sell us candy?”
Tomi turned the corner and headed toward a park. It was the long way home, but they weren’t likely to run into any kids they knew, and that was good. She didn’t want anyone to find out what had just happened.
They reached a bench, and Tomi sat down, Hiro next to her.
“What’s Pearl Harbor?” Hiro asked again.
Tomi took a deep breath. “It’s a place in Hawaii. The Japanese bombed our American ships there, and lots of sailors were killed.”
“Jeepers!” Hiro tried to whistle through his teeth, but his front teeth were missing, so the sound came out like a rush of wind. “How come they did that?”
Tomi shook her head. “I don’t know. I heard it on the radio, and I heard Mom and Pop talk about it, but they stopped when they found out I was listening. So I don’t understand everything. I just know President Roosevelt declared war on Jap
an.”
“But why won’t Mr. Akron let us into his store?”
“I guess he thinks we’re spies or something, you know, like they talk about on the radio.”
Hiro thought that over, then asked, “Spies? Who are we supposed to spy for?”
“Japan,” Tomi answered.
“But we’ve never been there. Heck, Tomi, we don’t even speak Japanese.”
“Mom and Pop both came from Japan, and our grandparents Jiji and Baba still live there.”
“We don’t even know them,” Hiro said.
Tomi shrugged. “I don’t understand it, either. We say the Pledge of Allegiance every day in school, and we salute the flag. Pop always told us he and Mom were the best Americans because they chose to live in this country; they chose for you and me and Roy to be born here.” Roy, their older brother, was almost sixteen.
“Are we going to tell Mom about the sign?” Hiro asked.
Tomi looked down at Hiro. “I don’t know. Maybe we should so that she doesn’t shop there.” Tomi didn’t like the idea that Mr. Akron might be rude to her mother.
The two of them sat on the bench, not talking for a few minutes. It was winter, and although snow didn’t fall in their southern California town not far from the ocean, the weather was cold. Tomi felt the chill and shivered. She started to tuck her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, then realized she was still holding the penny. “Those jawbreakers would probably break our teeth. I don’t want one anyway,” she told her brother.
“Me neither,” Hiro said. He grinned, and Tomi punched his arm.
“Besides, you don’t have enough teeth to chew one,” she said.
1942 | CHAPTER TWO
POP and the FBI
TOMI loved their little farmhouse. It was painted yellow, the color of the sun, Tomi’s favorite color. An American flag hung from a pole in the yard. Pop raised it every day, while Tomi, Hiro, and Roy stood beside him. Then he lowered it at night, choosing one of the children to help him fold it. The flag was kept in a carved box next to the front door. Tomi was proud when she saw the red, white, and blue flag flying from its pole in front of the house.
Pop grew strawberries that were even bigger and redder than the ones in Mr. Akron’s store. Pop didn’t own the farm. He had come to America from Japan when he was younger. He told his children since he was born in Japan, he was an Issei, or first-generation American. The law said Issei couldn’t own land in America. Pop’s real name was Osamu, but everybody called him Sam. Mom, whose name was Sumiko, was an Issei, too. Tomi and her brothers, Hiro and Roy, were born in America. Pop explained that they were Nisei, or second-generation Americans.
It didn’t matter that Pop just rented the farm, however. He had worked it since before Tomi was born, and the farm was the only home she’d ever known. Pop rented the land from Mr. Lawrence, who lived a mile away in a big house with white pillars in front. His daughter, Martha, was Tomi’s best friend. They played together all the time in Martha’s big house or in Tomi’s tiny yellow cottage.
Mr. Lawrence’s brand new Ford motor car was parked in front of the Itano house along with a car Tomi didn’t recognize. Mr. Lawrence believed in Ford cars and bought one every two years. He’d encouraged Pop to buy a used Ford truck the year before. Pop had never owned a truck, and he was proud of it. He and Roy washed it every Saturday.
Mr. Lawrence stood on the porch with a man in a suit and hat. The two of them were hidden behind a trumpet vine and didn’t see Tomi and Hiro as they came down the road.
“Sam Itano’s as good an American as I am,” Tomi heard Mr. Lawrence say. His voice was loud and angry.
“Then why did he buy so much fertilizer? And gasoline, too? I’m betting it’s for the Japanese submarines. They’ve been spotted off the coast.” The second man didn’t look much older than Roy.
“Look around you. This is a farm. You need gasoline to run the equipment. Sam’s a smart farmer. He’s stocking up on gas before it gets scarce. Besides, submarines don’t run on gasoline,” Mr. Lawrence told him.
“That’s beside the point,” the man wearing the suit said.
“Then what is the point?” Mr. Lawrence asked.
“Sam Itano’s a Jap.”
“Around here, we call him a Japanese,” Mr. Lawrence said.
A third man came out of the house. He had Pop’s newspaper in his hand and held it high so the others could see. “Look at this. It’s in Japanese.”
“That’s Sam’s newspaper. Are you saying it’s illegal to read a newspaper written in another language?” Mr. Lawrence asked.
“It is if it’s subversive.”
“What’s subversive?” Hiro asked. His voice carried.
Tomi whispered, “I think it means ‘doing something against the government.’ ”
The men on the porch hadn’t noticed the two children until now. One asked if they were the Itano kids. When Tomi nodded, he asked, “Your dad have a radio?”
Tomi didn’t like the way the man sounded. Is there something wrong with having a radio? she wondered. She was about to tell them she didn’t know. But Hiro belted out, “You bet! It’s a Philco, brand-new. We got it for Christmas. It’s swell.”
The two men looked at each other. “And he listens to it, does he? What does he listen to?”
“Oh, everything,” Hiro said, before Tomi could stop him. “He listens to Blondie and Fibber McGee and Molly. And when he’s not home, Mom listens to Backstage Wife and Our Gal Sunday. Pop says they’re dumb.”
“They’re soap operas,” Tomi explained.
“I bet he listens to Japanese programs, too, doesn’t he?” one of the men asked.
“There aren’t any Japanese programs on the radio,” Tomi told him.
The two men looked at each other, while Mr. Lawrence muttered, “Ha!”
Pop came out of the house then and motioned for Tomi and Hiro to go to him. Tomi wondered where Mom was; probably working in the strawberry fields. Pop was sweating, and he had a worried look on his face. He jingled the coins in his pocket. He did that when he was nervous. The day Pop arrived in America, he found a silver dollar on the street. It was his lucky coin, and he always carried it. Now he thumped the small coins in his pocket against the big silver dollar.
Tomi asked Pop about the two men, and he whispered, “They’re from the FBI.”
“Wow! The FBI, like in the movies!” Hiro said. “Are you going to help them capture some bad guys, Pop?”
Tomi knew the FBI agents weren’t there to ask for Pop’s help.
One of the men asked Tomi, “Does your father use the radio late at night?”
“Sure, he listens to One Man’s Family,” Tomi said.
The agent looked annoyed. “Does he use it to talk to the Japs?”
“Japanese.” Mr. Lawrence reminded him.
Hiro laughed. “Boy, is he dumb. You don’t talk to a radio,” he whispered.
“Keep still, boy,” the agent who’d come out of the house said. He turned to the other man. “You should see what he’s got in there—Japanese books, letters, even a picture of the Emperor. We better take him in.”
Mr. Lawrence stepped between Pop and the men. “On what grounds?” he asked.
“Espionage,” the FBI man said.
“That’s spying,” Tomi told Hiro before he could ask.
Pop glanced from the two agents to Mr. Lawrence. “How can that be? I’m an American.”
“You’re not a citizen, are you?”
“I can’t be. The law doesn’t let Issei become citizens,” Pop explained.
“You had a camera. What were you taking pictures of?” The agent was holding Pop’s camera in his hand, the back of it open.
“My strawberry plants. And my children. You’d see if you hadn’t exposed the film.”
“Oh yeah?” The man took out a pair of handcuffs and motioned for Pop to put his wrists together in front of his waist. As the men led him to their car, Pop wouldn’t look back at Tomi and Hiro. It was ha
rd for Tomi to look at him, too.
“You kids tell your mother I’ll be back later to explain what’s going on,” Mr. Lawrence said. Then he turned to Pop. “Don’t worry, Sam. This isn’t right. I’ll get a lawyer for you. He’ll prove you’re a good American and shouldn’t be arrested.”
“Don’t bother,” one of the FBI men said. “It won’t do him any good.” Then he turned to Tomi and Hiro and said, “You kids, you tell your mother you’re not to go more than five miles from here. And there’s a curfew. That means you’re not to be out after dark.”
Mom had been working with the strawberry plants and hadn’t known what had just happened. After all, people were always stopping by to buy strawberries. Pop always talked to them, because Mom was shy around strangers. As soon as Mr. Lawrence drove off, Tomi and Hiro ran to her, careful not to step on the strawberry plants.
“The FBI took Pop away. They put handcuffs on him,” Hiro called to her.
“What?” Mom had been stooped over the plants, and she looked up, then rose slowly.
“They called him un-American,” Tomi said. “I’m scared, but Mr. Lawrence said not to worry, that he’d get a lawyer to help Pop.”
Mom put her hands over her face and stood that way for a long time. “I told him to get rid of those letters, those newspapers,” she said to herself. She took her children’s hands, and they walked back to the house.
When they went inside, Mom gasped at the mess the FBI agents had left. She always kept the house tidy. But now, drawers were pulled out in the bedroom and clothes dumped onto the floor. Dishes and canned goods had been taken from kitchen shelves and set on the table. The back of the radio had been pried off. Pop’s letters from Jiji and Baba in Japan were scattered about. “Oh,” Mom said, and sat down in a chair.
Tomi offered to put things away, but her mother said no. “We’ll burn all this. I told your father to do that, but he said that everything would be all right.”
Tomi and Hiro gathered up the papers that had been thrown onto the floor and put them into the stove. Mom picked up the picture of the Japanese emperor and placed it on top of the papers. Then she went into her bedroom and took down a wall scroll with a picture of a Japanese mountain on it and added it. Finally, she went to the closet for her best kimono. It was a beautiful turquoise silk dress she wore on special occasions. She shoved it into the stove. She cried when she lit a match and watched the silk catch fire. “We have to get rid of everything Japanese so that we can show we aren’t aiding the enemy,” she said.
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