“Did you find out anything about Mr. Smith? He’s threatening to sell more of their property,” Aunt Etta said.
“I’ve been talking to a friend, Will Weinstein, who is in the property business,” George said. “He doesn’t think much of our Mr. Smith.”
“He’s selling more than just houses,” Rosie said.
Both Aunt Etta and George looked at her.
“I saw him take a box of jewelry to a jewelry store and come out with bills he stuck in his pocket. He also sold some quilts, including one of Mama’s that Auntie Palu made for her. Auntie Palu bought it back.” Rosie ran into the bedroom and brought out the quilt. She tossed it across their laps.
“What do you mean, you ‘saw’ him?” Aunt Etta asked in her sternest voice. She examined the quilt, looking from it to Rosie.
Rosie couldn’t bear to see the expression on her aunt’s face. “When we saw our lamp in his office, both of us, Freddie and me, we knew he was up to no good.” Rosie shrugged again. “So we’ve kind of been keeping an eye on him.”
“You dragged your brother into this?!” Aunt Etta said, her voice shrill.
When Rosie dared to glance up, she saw Aunt Etta glaring at her. “Freddie thought we were playing a detective game. And Mr. Smith never saw me,” she assured her aunt. “And it was only two times.”
“And what do you plan to do with this information?” Aunt Etta demanded.
Rosie had seldom seen her aunt so angry. She wished she hadn’t said anything, but how could she keep quiet when someone was stealing from her family. “I don’t know really,” Rosie finally answered. “I figured, being German and all, no one would believe me, but just in case I wanted to be able to give proof. I kept notes on everything I’ve seen Mr. Smith do.”
“May I see your notes?” George asked reasonably.
“They’re in my journal,” Rosie said.
“Still, if I can give Will a timeline, something he can work with, perhaps he can come up with a way to stop the man. IF, and this is a big if, he is doing anything illegal. These days, it would be very hard to prove,” George said.
I-L-L-E-G-A-L, Rosie spelled to herself. “What if I think the reason my parents were interned is illegal?” she asked.
“Rosie,” Aunt Etta said sharply.
“Now, Etta, some would agree with Rosie that the concept of internment is illegal. Seems like our Rosie has been having deep thoughts.”
“Let’s say the person who reported on Mama and Papa exaggerated,” Rosie paused and spelled E-X-A-G-G-E-R-A-T-E-D to herself. “Or even lied about their activities, because they wanted something those people had. Like Malia.”
George looked at Aunt Etta and frowned.
“George, we can’t make accusations like that,” said Aunt Etta, looking frightened. “They’ll never believe us. And it means, it means I’ll be back on their radar. I don’t want to risk being locked up again and leaving the children. Rosie, you have to understand. I’m not trying to be difficult. There are so many ways to look at this!”
Rosie felt a surge of anger at her aunt. She was too afraid to do anything, to say anything.
Freddie burst into the living room. “Hey, George, want to come see us march? There’s a real soldier who has been working with us and we look as good as his real unit—he said so!”
“I bet you do!” said George.
“Tomorrow, Freddie. It’s time for you and Rosie to go to bed. Morning will be here before you know it. And you need to wash your face, hands, and feet.” Aunt Etta placed her hands on Freddie’s shoulders and pushed him toward the bedroom.
Rosie was willing to go to bed. She was afraid of what she might say, feeling as mad as she felt. It wasn’t Aunt Etta’s home that might be sold, or her quilts, or her furniture or anything of hers. Aunt Etta hadn’t lost the pet she’d had ever since she could remember. Rosie gathered the newspapers George had brought to read before she fell asleep.
Aunt Etta tried to put her arm around Rosie but Rosie pulled away. “Don’t think we aren’t doing anything or don’t care,” her aunt said. “George is working every day to free your parents and to keep their property from being sold.”
“I just hope you can do something before it’s too late.” Rosie turned to follow Freddie to bed, not taking time to kiss her aunt good night.
Chapter 33
Before school the next day, Rosie found a piece of clothesline under the sink at Iolana’s house and asked her neighbor if she could use it for a jumprope. At school, she invited Haruko and several other Japanese and haole girls to jump with her. Only one of the haole girls joined them, but she and Haruko and a few of Haruko’s friends ate lunch together. It felt good to have friends at school.
Haruko and Rosie were turning the rope as Annette, a girl from the fifth grade, jumped. A line of other girls waited for her to miss so they could take her place. A boy, smaller than Freddie, pulled on Haruko’s arm, making the rope jerk and Annette’s feet grow tangled.
“Not fair!” Annette yelled. “It’s not my fault I missed.”
Haruko had dropped her end of the rope and moved to the edge of the playground, her arm around the little boy. His shoulders shook with sobs as they talked. Haruko tried to comfort him but finally led him, still crying, into the school building.
The girl at the end of the line took up Haruko’s end and turned with Rosie. When recess ended and Rosie and the rest of the class came inside, Haruko wasn’t there.
“Miss Akana?” Rosie asked when the dismissal bell rang. “What happened to Haruko? Was that her brother crying?”
Miss Akana nodded. “She took him home. Aki wouldn’t stop crying.” She shook her head.
“But what happened?”
Miss Akana looked at Rosie, chewing on her lower lip. “I’m sorry but Haruko needs to tell you that herself.”
“Can you tell me where she lives?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. And shouldn’t you be heading home? Your mother will be worried.”
“Will she be back tomorrow?” Rosie asked.
“Probably.” Miss Akana smiled at Rosie. “I have some good news for you. We are going to have a spelling bee. The faculty decided we’d start from scratch and let anyone interested take part. I’m hoping you will.”
“I will. I’ve been practicing words. I’m so glad!” Rosie nodded, punctuating her words.
Miss Akana smiled warmly. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you,” Rosie said as she backed out of the room. “Thanks!”
Heading home, Rosie wondered if Miss Akana would be willing to help with her application to Punahou. Maybe it was time to think about the future.
The walk home was unusually quiet. Freddie and Kam had gone ahead, planning to fish at a place Kam had found. The two of them had a new passion for catching fish and splitting the catch between their two families for dinner. It beat coconuts any day and it kept Freddie busy as he had deserted army play for now to go with Kam.
Rosie looked forward to time on her own. She had made great progress on her quilt square. She’d finished the applique work and was quilting around the edges of the fish design. She wished she could show Kealani. Rosie had sewn many positive thoughts and prayers into the square, mainly for her parents to return. And she might complete it this week if Freddie continued to fish and Iolana didn’t need her to watch Daisy and Merigold. When she finished, if Kealani’s prediction came true, Mama and Papa would come home.
“Three blind rats, three blind rats, Hitler, Benito, and the Jap,” Rosie thought she heard someone sing. She glanced over her shoulder and saw no one, but walked a little more quickly.
“Rosie is another and so is her mother, Nazi Jap lover.” The voice seemed to come from the shrubbery along the side of the road. Rosie saw no one. She felt a stab of fear and walked even more quickly.
“I know your secret,” came a singsongy voice from the other side of the road.
The slithery voice reached her again, “NAAAAZIIIIII,” it hissed,
then laughed.
Rosie was sure whoever was taunting her was trying to disguise their voice. She broke into a run.
Chapter 34
On the way to school the next day, Rosie kept looking around her, peering into the bushes alongside the road and listening to see if anyone was following her and Freddie.
“What is going on?” Freddie asked after Rosie had turned around in a circle to see behind them for the third or fourth time.
“Nothing,” she said, irritated with his questions and with herself for feeling so nervous. She had no intention of scaring her little brother.
“You are acting weird,” he said. “Or maybe I should say weirder than usual.”
“Oh, ha ha,” said Rosie. “Hey, good fish you caught last night.”
“I even know how to clean them. Cut them along the belly and pull the guts out …”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Well, I know how to eat them. And luckily Aunt Etta knows how to cook them so they taste really good.”
“There’s Aki. See you!” Freddie started to run across the playground.
Rosie grabbed his arm. “You know Aki? Haruko’s brother?”
“I don’t know what his sister’s name is.” Freddie tried to pull away.
“Were you two playing yesterday?”
Freddie stopped and nodded.
“Why was he so upset? He came over during recess, crying, and Haruko had to take him inside.”
“One of the mean kids was teasing him. Said his dad was a Tojo spy and no one should play with him, that Aki was probably a spy, too, and we should all ignore him and not talk to him.” Freddie hung his head.
“Did you not play with him after that?” Rosie asked, growing angrier with every word Freddie spoke.
“Not me. He ran away before anyone could say anything. I know he’s not a spy. He’s a kid like me.”
“You’d better hope nobody knows that we’re German or they’ll be saying the same things to you that they said to Aki,” said Rosie, the words she’d heard on the way home the day before haunting her.
Freddie frowned. “I’m American,” he said in a small voice.
“Yeah, you are,” Rosie said and gave him a quick squeeze before he ran off to join his friends. Hopefully no one would think any different.
Haruko was sitting at her desk when Rosie arrived in the classroom. She was staring at a book and wouldn’t look up even when Rosie spoke to her. Rosie noticed there was a folded piece of paper stuck in her desktop. She figured it was from Haruko and turned to smile at her friend, but Haruko still did not look up.
Rosie unfolded the paper.
Go back to Germany where you belong, Nazi krauthead. We don’t want your kind here.
Rosie crumpled the note and looked around the room. It was definitely not from Haruko. At least she didn’t think it would be something she would write. She opened her desk and dropped the note inside. The writing didn’t look familiar, but the voice from yesterday didn’t sound like anyone she knew either.
Who even knew about the German part of her? Besides Kam. She turned to look for her friend. He was sitting on his desktop and she figured he was talking about the fish he’d caught because he was holding his hands way farther apart than any actual fish he’d ever brought home. When he caught her looking at him, he grinned and gave a wave. It couldn’t be Kam.
Rosie couldn’t concentrate on the social studies lesson Miss Akana was giving about explorers or her math assignment that followed. She wanted to talk to Haruko.
At recess when Rosie followed her friend to the playground, Haruko and the rest of the Japanese girls from her class turned their backs on her and gathered in a tight circle to shut her out when she tried to talk to them. Rosie felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. The lump that had been gone for a while re-formed in her throat and she felt tears burning her eyelids but she refused to give in to them. She turned and crossed to the edge of the playground to lean against a palm tree.
The rest of the girls from her class had also formed a circle and were whispering, looking at the Japanese group, then at Rosie. Apikalia led the group in Rosie’s direction. Rosie straightened up, not sure what was about to happen. The girls formed a half circle in front of her.
“Look at the alien,” Apikalia taunted.
Rosie stiffened. Alien?
“Kraut!” another girl said.
“Spy!” said another.
“Hun!”
“We know your parents are locked up for being German spies. Are you in the family business?” Apikalia leaned forward, her long, dark hair rubbing against Rosie’s cheek for an instant. “Nazi!”
Rosie felt hot all over. She swatted at the hair and Apikalia jerked backward. Apikalia was the one behind the note and the voice that had taunted her on the way home the day before. She was certain.
“I don’t know why people like you and them—” Apikalia pointed at the group of Japanese girls, “aren’t locked up. You’re a danger to this country!”
“I’m as loyal to this country as you are,” Rosie answered, shaking her own long, dark hair. She tried to see over the girls, to see if any teachers noticed what was happening.
“Have your parents warn Hitler we are going to pound him and all the rest of the Nazis to dust,” said Apikalia.
“We aren’t Nazis.” Rosie felt herself growing madder and madder at being called the name she’d come to hate—and fear. She clenched her fists.
“You should be locked up with your Nazi mother and father!”
Rosie leapt forward and knocked Apikalia to the ground, screaming at her, “Take it back, take it all back! You can’t call my mama and papa that name!” She straddled the girl’s chest, holding her down by the shoulders and hair. Around her, Rosie could hear screams and she felt Apikalia’s nails digging into her arms as she struggled, but Rosie pressed the girl harder into the warm asphalt of the playground. She wanted to push her until she disappeared and stopped calling her awful names.
“Rosie, stop it! Get off her!” She heard a boy’s voice in the background and felt hands around her chest pulling at her. Rosie slapped at Apikalia as she was dragged away.
A whistle blew shrilly and Rosie saw black high heels and heard Miss Akana shout, “Rosie! Apikalia! Stop it this second.” Rosie fell limp against the arms around her.
“What are you doing?” Kam whispered to her. “You are in big, big trouble.”
Rosie pulled away from him but before she could take another step Miss Akana used one hand to firmly grab her by the arm while she helped Apikalia up with her other hand.
“Girls!” the teacher said, her face red and her normally perfect hair mussed. “What were you thinking?”
“She called me names, ugly names,” Rosie said, using her free hand to poke her finger toward the other girl. Miss Akana held them far enough apart so Rosie couldn’t touch her.
“We need to talk to Mrs. Smith right now.”
Rosie felt like she’d been doused in ice water. Surely it couldn’t be the same Mrs. Smith that was Aunt Yvonne’s friend?
“This is the perfect way to welcome our new principal her first day at her new school. After we’ve all told her what wonderful students we have,” Miss Akana said, sighing as she pulled them toward the building.
Rosie felt everyone staring. She looked down at her dress and noticed dirt ground into the hem as well as a tear along the waist. And it was her best dress, the one she’d bought with her babysitting money.
When they reached the office, Miss Akana sat the girls on opposite ends of the row of chairs along the wall. “Sit right here and don’t move, don’t talk, don’t …” Miss Akana looked at Rosie and then at Apikalia, “don’t do anything.”
Rosie felt the teacher’s disappointment. She stared at her hands, then pleated her skirt between her fingers, let it pop loose and pleated it again.
“Ah, Rosie Schatzer,” said Mrs. Smith.
Looking up, Rosie saw Aunt Yvonne’s friend standing in front of
her, her arms folded across her chest. “Miss Akana tells me she is surprised at your behavior, but I am not.” She turned to Apikalia, looked her up and down and simply motioned for her to follow. Rosie stood, but Mrs. Smith turned sharply. “Not you,” she said. “I will deal with you once I find out what happened.”
Why had she let herself lose control like that? Rosie had never physically fought with anyone in her life. She’d always depended on her words, but this time it was words that had driven her to act—Nazi, kraut, hun, enemy. None of those words were her.
It seemed like forever before Mrs. Smith and Apikalia came out of the principal’s office. One thought that plagued Rosie as she waited was how ashamed her parents would be if they knew what she had done. For that she was sorry. The other was that this would not look good on her Punahou application.
Mrs. Smith patted Apikalia on the shoulder as she left. The girl did not even glance toward Rosie. Mrs. Smith motioned for Rosie to come into the office and she slowly obeyed.
Rosie had tried to come up with an explanation for her behavior as she’d waited for her turn to see Mrs. Smith. “Apikalia and her friends were very disrespectful toward me,” she began.
Mrs. Smith held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear one of your made-up stories. I know what you are capable of, how you behaved toward the kind woman who took you in when you needed a home.”
Rosie had no idea what Mrs. Smith meant. She’d always respected Aunt Etta. Then she remembered. Aunt Yvonne had introduced her and Freddie as refugees when they had met Mrs. Smith the first time.
“You mean my Aunt Yvonne?”
“She even let you call her aunt!” Mrs. Smith said.
“Because she is my aunt. Yes, Yvonne Bell is my German aunt, my mother’s sister. Her maiden name is Rauschling. And I’m not making up that story.”
Mrs. Smith cleared her throat and glared at Rosie.
Uh-oh. She hadn’t improved her situation with the principal. But Rosie took a small satisfaction at finally standing up against Aunt Yvonne’s prejudice against her own family.
“Physically attacking another student is clearly a serious offense at this school.”
Different Days Page 16