Rosie carried her journal to the window and lifted the shade a tiny bit, adjusting the pages in the sliver of light that entered from outside. She wrote:
Leilani is angry with me and I don’t know why. There’s no one I would rather be up against in the spelling bee because I will be happy if either of us wins. Of course if I win, I will be a champion, or as Papa would say, the “Princess of Spelling.” It will look very good on my application to Punahou. How can Leilani think me going to Punahou will change anything? I will still live next door to her. I hope Auntie is right and Leilani has confused her feelings about the war with her feelings about the spelling bee.
And the war. Mama says it will be different days. I suppose so, but as long as we are together I think we will be all right.
Chapter 4
Rosie lay in bed squinting against the bright sunlight. It was such a contrast to last night, when she finally fell asleep in deepest darkness. Slowly, she sat up. She patted the warm spot beside her—Kitty was gone, but not long ago. Rosie stretched and yawned, then slid off her bed. For only a moment, she wondered why Mama hadn’t awakened her for school. Then she remembered. The War.
Rosie quickly dressed in the pink and blue flowered dress she’d worn to school Friday that was still lying across the desk chair. No school, so no need to bother with shoes.
In the kitchen, Rosie found four of Mama’s kinder sitting around the table, each with a fried egg and a glass of pineapple juice. Different. Mama considered the kitchen part of their home and it was usually off limits to the kids.
“It’s cozier in here,” Mama answered, before Rosie could even ask about the change in routine. “And, none of the teachers have shown up yet so I will need your help today.”
Rosie loved to help out with the kinder. Her usual job at the kindergarten involved lots of soap and water and cleaning. A chance to work with the kinder was a treat!
Rosie had planned to visit the Palus but that would have to wait if Mama needed her. She wanted, as soon as possible, to see if she could straighten out what Leilani had clearly misunderstood.
“Hi, Rosie,” said a small voice. It was Chester. For some reason she could not understand, he had attached himself to her from his first day at the kindergarten. He tagged after her like Kitty sometimes did, but unlike Kitty, he talked the entire time. “I like eggs. Do you like eggs? Did you hear the bombs yesterday? My mom is a nurse so she has been at the hospital all night long. She brought me here so she could go to sleep …”
“Hi, Chester,” Rosie said, “I’m glad you’re here. We’ll talk in a minute.”
“Promise?” said Chester.
Rosie nodded as she turned to ask Mama, “Where’s Papa?”
Chester answered first. “Your daddy was backing out of the driveway when we drove up and he almost hit my mom’s car. She said if we wrecked our car now, we wouldn’t get another one until the war was over. Did you know that, Rosie? We won’t be able to get a new car because I guess the Japs bombed all the new cars.”
Chester loved cars, Rosie knew, so this would be a very bad thing in his world. As usual, he had a toy car parked beside his plate. Still, she needed to talk to Mama. She held up her hand, “Later, remember? Promise.”
Chester nodded and ate more of his egg.
“He went into the store. He was very worried about damage. And he expects some business today. People will want to have a radio to hear what is happening.”
Rosie certainly understood that. Yet, the radio wasn’t turned on in their kitchen. She looked at it sitting silently on the small table near the doorway.
“I don’t want to frighten the kinder,” Mama said, again answering Rosie’s question before she could ask. “And the reception is still only now and then.”
“Hello? Is anyone home?” Malia, one of Mama’s teachers, stepped in the back door. “You have children here!” she said, looking surprised.
“But no teachers,” Mama said, “so I’m glad you made it.”
“I called the other teachers and told them no need to come in today,” Malia said.
“You did what?” Mama said, turning to face the older Hawaiian woman.
Uh-oh, thought Rosie. Malia had owned the kindergarten—or nursery as she had called it—before Mama. Mama had kept her on as a teacher, but Malia sometimes forgot she wasn’t in charge any longer, according to conversations Rosie had overheard between Mama and Papa.
“Malia, that is not your place,” Mama said sharply. “But what is done is done. We have a small group today, and Rosie is here to help out so we will manage, but …”
“You would think the parents would want to be with their keiki, their children, on a day like today,” Malia interrupted, “not drop them off for others to care for. At least that is the way we Hawaiians feel …”
“I am sure our parents would prefer to stay home today but some of them have jobs that make that impossible. The nurses and hospital workers, for instance,” said Mama, turning away from Malia. “It’s not our place to judge. Will you please lead the children in circle time?”
“Yes, boss, that I will.” Malia glared at Mama’s back before gathering the little ones and marching them into the classroom.
“Rosie, what do you want for breakfast?” Mama asked.
“I’m okay,” she replied. “What do you need me to do?”
“First, let me braid that hair of yours.” Mama smiled at her, but Rosie could tell it was forced.
She ran upstairs and grabbed her hairbrush. Chester met her halfway down the staircase and grabbed her hand.
“You need to go to the classroom with the rest of the kids,” Rosie said, pointing the way.
“I told Auntie Malia I had to go to the bathroom. I want you to come be our teacher.”
“I will be there in a minute,” Rosie said, making another promise.
“We’re in a war,” Chester said. “Did you know that, Rosie? We are fighting the Japs now and pretty soon we’ll be fighting the Nazis, too. Is your dad a Nazi?”
“Nazi? What do you mean?” Rosie asked, surprised to hear “Nazi”—a word she hated—coming out of such a little mouth.
“Mommy said your mom and dad might be Nazis and she wasn’t sure she should leave me here …”
“Mama and Papa are not Nazis!” Rosie said hotly. The word brought to mind pictures of men in black uniforms marching in perfect step. Adolph Hitler and his stupid black mustache. A red and white flag with what looked like a spider in the center. All running through her mind like the newsreels she’d seen at the movies.
Chester dropped her hand, his head hanging. “But they might be,” he whispered.
Rosie struggled to keep the anger she felt out of her voice. Chester couldn’t have any idea what he was saying. He was a little kid, repeating what he had heard. And to learn that he had heard people suspected her mama and papa of being Nazis was shocking!
“Downstairs! Find Malia,” Rosie said. She waited for him to go, feeling slightly sick to her stomach.
In the kitchen Mama motioned for Rosie to sit in a chair without a word. Mama looked so tired and sad, Rosie couldn’t tell her what Chester had said. She tried to relax in the silence as Mama brushed her hair in slow, gentle strokes. For a moment, life felt normal as Mama braided Rosie’s long, dark hair. Mama kissed her on top of her head and patted her shoulder. “Please, help Malia.”
In the classroom, Malia had the children, three boys and one girl, sitting at a table with crayons and paper. Every one of the children was drawing an airplane. Some of the planes had red fire around them, others were surrounded by gray shapes, what Rosie suspected was smoke.
“Rosie is not a Nazi,” Chester said to Malia, breaking the silence.
Malia shrugged. “Time will tell,” she said, not looking at Rosie.
What did she mean by that? The Nazi talk added to Rosie’s sense of unease. She busied herself choosing a story to read to the children. A happy story with no planes and no war.
“Hey, g
uys!” Freddie leaned in the door that led from the classroom to the play yard. “Come on out here! Want to play war?”
“Freddie, do you really think …” Rosie started to say as the boys pushed back their chairs and rushed to join her brother. Susi stayed behind and laid her head on the table.
“Should we let them do that?” Rosie asked Malia.
She nodded. “As your mother would tell us in her haole words, it’s their way of working through their fears,” Malia said.
Chester leaned back inside the screen door. “Susi is a Jap. C’mon, Susi. Try to bomb us again, you dirty Jap! We will chase you in our airplanes and shoot you down!” he yelled at her.
“I don’t want to be a dirty Jap,” Susi said, bursting into tears.
Malia stood aside and watched the little girl sob.
Rosie realized that Susi was the only one of their Japanese students who had come to school that day. The boys were all haole, white. When she thought of how many of their neighbors were Japanese, Rosie felt a twinge of fear, especially when she remembered the expression on the face of the Jap flying the bomber right above her head yesterday. What if the Japanese on the islands decided to turn on the haoles?
Stop scaring yourself over nothing, Rosie warned herself. It wasn’t the Japanese who lived in Hawaii who had bombed the island. They were no doubt as troubled over the war as the haoles, more troubled probably because they looked like the pilots who had bombed them.
When Malia still didn’t move to help the little girl, Rosie knelt beside her. “What would you like to play, Susi?”
“I want,” she said, taking a breath. “I want to take a nap.”
Rosie looked up at Malia who shrugged again and turned away.
“Let’s fix you a cot, then.” Rosie took one of the napping cots off the stack and went to Susi’s cubby and found her blanket and a small Japanese doll. Susi was already curled up on the cot by the time Rosie returned. She tucked the blanket around the girl and handed her the doll. Susi stuck her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Will you be in here to watch her if I go check on the boys?” Rosie asked Malia.
Malia had settled herself in a grown-up-sized chair. “You go ahead. Those little rascals are bound to be in trouble soon.”
Led by Freddie, the boys were all pretending to be airplanes. He had even managed to find a scarf that he had wrapped around his neck, like the pilot they had seen the day before.
Rosie turned away from the boys when she heard a car crunching up the drive. A large black car pulled to a stop by the back door. Rosie didn’t recognize either the car or the men dressed in dark suits and wearing gray fedoras who stepped out of it.
“We’d like to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Schatzer,” the taller of the two men said in a gruff voice.
“My father is at work,” Rosie said quickly, “but Mama, she’s in the kitchen. Let me show you the way.” Over her shoulder, she yelled at her brother, “Hey, watch the kids.”
All of the boys had stopped their battle and stared silently at the men, looking between them and the car.
Rosie’s braids bounced against her back as she led the two men to the back door. “Mama?” she called through the screen. “There are some men here …”
The taller man gently moved Rosie to the side and opened the screen. “Mrs. Schatzer,” he said as he flipped open what looked like his wallet and held it out to Mama.
“Is it Henry? Is something wrong with …”
“No, ma’am,” the man said quickly. “We’d like you to come with us and answer a few questions. Where is Mr. Schatzer?”
“He’s—he’s at work,” Mama said, patting her hair. “Come with you? Where? I have the children …”
“It’s not a request. You will come with me, now.”
“May I please gather my sweater and purse? Put on some lipstick and brush my hair?” She untied her apron and hung it over the back of the chair.
“Mama,” Rosie reached out, panic taking hold of her.
“It’s okay, liebling,” Mama said, her face as pale as Rosie had ever seen it. “I will be back before dinner. And Malia is here.”
The tall man held open the screen door.
“Just a moment,” Mama said, heading toward the stairs. The man followed closely behind her, and Rosie gasped as his coat flipped open and she saw he had a gun resting snugly in a holster under his arm. Why did he need a gun? Was it because of the war? Who was he?
The second man stayed behind, standing in front of the door with his arms folded across his chest.
Rosie took a few steps toward the staircase intending to follow Mama, but she didn’t want to leave the second man in the kitchen alone. She kept her eyes on the stairs and strained to hear anything Mama or the man might say to give her a clue who the men were and where they were taking her mother. She heard nothing but footsteps.
In minutes Mama reappeared, her hair straightened, her lipstick shining, wearing a soft blue sweater and carrying her purse across her arm.
“Let me tell my teacher what is happening,” Mama said, heading toward the classroom, but the man who was staying close behind her grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“Let her tell her,” he said, pointing at Rosie. “We need to go now.”
Mama’s shoulders slumped as she let the man lead her to the car.
“Mama, where are you going? When will you be back?” Rosie called from the porch, her stomach feeling like it was turning inside out.
Her mother smiled weakly. “Don’t worry. I will be with Papa and we will be home by suppertime. Tell Malia to call parents to pick up their children and ask her to please stay …”
The man pushed Mama into the back seat of the car and slammed the door. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded toward Rosie.
“Mama!” she called again, fighting tears. Why was her mother leaving her there? Where were they taking her? Rosie watched her mama turn and look out the back window at her, waving.
Chapter 5
Rosie pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes to keep from crying. She repeated to herself over and over, Mama will be home before supper, she will be home before supper.
“Mrs. Schatzer!” Rosie heard Malia call.
“She’s gone,” Rosie said weakly through the screen door.
Malia opened the door, looking puzzled. “But we have children to care for,” she said.
“Some men came, in suits and a big black car, and they wanted to ask her questions. And she said she will be back before supper. And for you to call the parents to come pick up the kids and would you please stay with us until she gets back.” Rosie said everything as fast as she could before her voice broke, hoping she remembered it all. She waited for Malia to say something to reassure her.
“Government men?” Malia said, almost as if she was talking to herself. “They arrested Mrs. Schatzer?”
Government men? Why would Malia think the men were from the government?
“No! Why would anyone want to arrest my mama? They only want to ask her questions,” Rosie said quickly. “They went someplace to talk. You know how it is here with all the kids around.” But she swallowed hard, remembering the gun. Did that man arrest her mama? Why? Why? Had they accidentally broken one of the new war rules that had popped up seemingly in an instant?
Malia stared pointedly at Rosie, her hands on her hips. She said nothing, only shook her head as she walked slowly toward Mama’s office.
Rosie hesitated a moment, not sure what to do with herself, wanting Malia to tell her. She followed her into the office and the teacher was already on the phone. Malia turned her back and lowered her voice, talking the pidgin of the islands.
Rosie knew her mother would want Malia to make sure the kinder were cared for before anything else and she suspected Malia wasn’t talking to parents. Still Rosie held back. She knew Malia wouldn’t like a girl telling her what to do. She didn’t even like Mama telling her what to do! Rosie wondered if this was one of the ba
ttles Papa had mentioned they would have to fight in these different days. She took a breath. “Shouldn’t you be calling parents?” she asked. Her voice didn’t sound one bit like that of a fighter. It sounded more like that of a squeaky mouse. Rosie waited, dreading what might come next.
Malia glared at her, spoke a few more words Rosie couldn’t hear, then hung up the phone. The teacher sat at Mama’s desk and pulled out the list of parents’ names, addresses, and phone numbers.
Rosie breathed deeply. She’d done it.
In the kitchen, Rosie sat at the table. Should she call Papa when Malia finished the calls to parents?
Before she could decide, Malia appeared and announced, “The parents are coming.”
“Thanks.” Rosie didn’t know what else to say. She stood as Malia took a seat at the kitchen table.
“I’m going to call my father,” Rosie said, picking up the kitchen phone. The line sputtered with intermittent static as the operator asked for the number in a harried voice. The phone at Papa’s shop rang and rang and rang. To her ears, it echoed as though it was ringing in an empty room.
“There is no answer at that number,” the operator said.
“Please try again,” Rosie asked.
Again, no answer.
“Papa must be on his way home,” she said to Malia, hoping it was true.
Malia only stared, smiling slightly in a way that made Rosie feel she knew more than she was telling.
Before Rosie could confront her, three parents arrived at almost the same time—but not Chester’s. Susi Ogura’s mother carried her to the car, still asleep. Malia refused to talk to her, mumbling under her breath about “tricky Japs.”
Rosie was extra friendly and nice to Mrs. Ogura, talking louder than necessary to make sure she didn’t hear Malia’s mumbles, although Susi’s mother’s quick exit made Rosie think she wasn’t fooling her at all. The parents of the two boys barely said a word to either the teacher or Rosie, but hurried the boys into their cars as if they feared their child was in danger.
Different Days Page 3