Lines We Draw

by Camellia Lee

  “Insects. I hate insects,” said Emi, making a face.

  Sumiko laughed. Growing up on a farm, Sumiko was used to insects. “Insects don’t frighten me,” she said. “But I am scared of wolves.”

  “Wolves?” Emi asked. “There aren’t many wolves in Arizona, are there? Have you ever seen one before?”

  Sumiko shook her head. “Well not exactly, but sometimes I have nightmares about them chasing me. No matter what I do, they keep coming after me.”

  Emi waved her hand dismissively. “But that’s just a dream.”

  Sumiko shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”

  Emi’s face brightened. “Hey, you know what will cheer you up? I want to invite you to my birthday party! It’s on October 11th.”

  “Oh, neat,” Sumiko said. “I didn’t know your birthday was coming up.”

  “Yup! It’s not like a party you’d have for a little kid, though. No games or anything. I just want to see some of my best friends.”

  Sumiko shifted uneasily in her seat. She knew Emi had some friends in Mesa that went to a different school, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to meet them. Meeting new people always made her nervous.

  Emi touched her friend’s hand. “It will be a good time. I promise.”

  Sumiko smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll ask my parents.”

  Emi grabbed Sumiko’s arm. “It’s getting late. We should probably head back home.”

  Chapter Four

  The drive to Mesa for Emi’s birthday party went faster than Sumiko anticipated. By the time her papa pulled up to Kuno’s Market, her stomach was knotted with nerves.

  What if no one talks to me? Sumiko took a breath, steeling herself for the event. After thanking Papa for the ride, she entered Kuno’s Market and headed toward the back room. Emi’s mother smiled when she saw Sumiko and led her down the stairs to the basement. Emi’s Mesa friends, Lucy and Betty, were already there. Sumiko felt the girls’ eyes on her.

  The house was dark and a little musty smelling. But Emi had made it welcoming, with extra chairs and a table of food.

  “Sumiko—I mean Suzie—these are my friends Lucy and Betty,” Emi said.

  “Hi,” Sumiko said timidly.

  Lucy was wearing a blue dress with sandals and had red curls cut above her ears. Betty had slightly longer blonde hair cut just below her chin.

  “Suzie lives on a farm just outside of Phoenix,” Emi said.

  “Cheap labor,” Betty said under her breath.

  Sumiko’s face flushed. Is she talking about my family? Is she making fun of me?

  “I like the way you have your hair,” Lucy said.

  Instinctively, Sumiko’s hand went up to the pink barrette holding her bangs back.

  “I wish mine would grow already so that I could wear it in a ponytail,” Lucy continued.

  Sumiko didn’t know how to respond to Betty’s remark, so she didn’t. To Lucy, she just said, “Um, thanks.”

  “How do you like Phoenix Elementary, Suzie?” Betty asked slowly, tilting her head to the side.

  “It’s better than my old school,” Sumiko replied.

  Betty kept staring at Sumiko, making her uncomfortable, while Lucy rattled on about the last history test at her school.

  Sumiko was pretty sure that she didn’t like Betty. She looked to the food table next to her and spotted a bowl of candy, dug for a chocolate, opened it, and took a small bite. Although she wasn’t hungry, she was anxious and needed something to do.

  The steps upstairs beckoned, and Sumiko excused herself to use the bathroom. But she really just stared in the mirror. Why is Emi friends with a girl like Betty? This party was worse than Sumiko could’ve imagined.

  As she walked back down the stairs, she heard whispered and rushed voices coming from the girls below. Sumiko stopped short before the girls could see she was there.

  “What’s wrong with you two? I really like her,” Emi said defensively.

  “Have you ever been to her house before? On the farm?” The voice was Betty’s.

  “Sure. I don’t go there often, though,” Emi said. But she was lying. Emi hadn’t been to Sumiko’s house yet.

  “Don’t you think people out there are a little strange?” Betty asked. Her voice was dripping with superiority.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Emi responded slowly. “I guess I wasn’t there for long. Suzie’s papa doesn’t like too many people coming over.”

  “Yeah, well, some people don’t like Orientals taking over,” Betty said.

  Sumiko gasped. Betty was awful. She waited for Emi’s fiery temper to take over, for her to call Betty out on the horrible things she was saying.

  But Emi was silent.

  “And did you say her name was Sumiko?” Betty continued. “What kind of name is that?” She laughed.

  Sumiko couldn’t stand to hear any more. She made a point to stomp down the last few steps and returned to the room. Her cheeks were burning, and she didn’t care if the girls saw it.

  “What did I miss?” Sumiko asked.

  “N-Nothing,” Emi stammered. “Suzie, help me get the popcorn?”

  “Okay.” Sumiko couldn’t wait to get out of there. She followed Emi around the corner to the family’s kitchen.

  Once they were out of earshot, Emi said, “I’m sorry this isn’t going well. I don’t know what’s got into Betty. She’s not usually so . . . she’s not usually like this.”

  Peals of laughter from the living room floated to their ears. Sumiko dreaded the rest of the evening: the pretending, the discomfort, the smirks that she’d pretend not to see. Tears began to well up in her eyes but she smiled a tight smile. It was Emi’s birthday, after all.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” Sumiko managed.

  They carried bowls of popcorn back into the small living room. There was a tingling in the air that Sumiko could sense. It was like there was now an invisible line separating her and Emi from the other two girls.

  The girls sat and the conversation was more relaxed as Lucy talked about a vacation she’d taken with her family over the summer, but Sumiko couldn’t bring herself to join in with more than one-word answers.

  “Is something wrong?” Lucy finally asked Sumiko.

  Sumiko’s head turned slightly toward Emi. We’re not Japanese American to them. Just Japanese. And they think of us as the enemy. The words echoed over and over in her head, and she wondered if Emi could sense this too.

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  It was Monday morning, and Sumiko felt sick as she walked through the school doors. She’d heard about the attack on Pearl Harbor the day before. Her heart ached as she thought about the destruction and the deaths. She wondered if any of her classmates had family in Pearl Harbor.

  As she hurried down the hallway to her classroom, she noticed the hushed voices and turned backs of students, leaving her a wide aisle to walk down. She caught a glance from Ruth, who sat to her left in class and was usually friendly. Ruth pretended not to see her and coldly turned around.

  Sumiko looked for Emi in the hallway but couldn’t find her in the mass of faces. She turned the corner and went into her classroom. Emi wasn’t in her seat yet. Sumiko settled into her own chair.

  Mrs. Fields started her lesson, and Sumiko watched as Emi quietly made her way in. She was late. Sumiko tried to catch her eye to mouth a hello, but Emi didn’t look at her. Instead, Emi kept her head down.

  Sumiko tried to concentrate on the lesson, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was in some sort of dream. It was almost as if she were invisible. No one had spoken a word to her. Even Jimmy, who sat near her, didn’t poke her to ask for a pencil or a piece of clean paper like he usually did. It was like Sumiko had done something wrong and the whole school knew about it.

  What did I do?

 
Finally, at lunch, Sumiko got a chance to talk with Emi.

  “Are you okay?” Sumiko asked. “Why were you late today?”

  A cloud formed over Emi’s face. “Some kids were being jerks to me. They threw my books in the bushes.”

  “What? Who?”

  Emi shook her head. “I know I should tell Mrs. Fields, but I think that will make it worse. Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. You heard about that, right?”

  “Yeah,” Sumiko nodded. “Everyone knows.”

  “Don’t you realize what might happen to us?” She had tears in her eyes now. Sumiko had never seen Emi so upset.

  Sumiko put her arm around her friend.

  “Not to us,” Sumiko said. “We’re Japanese American. We aren’t the enemy.”

  A chill shot through Sumiko’s body. She remembered Ruth turning away from her in the hall and her classmates casting sidelong glances her way all morning. Maybe this is the start of bad things to come. Are people like Betty going to hate me even more now?

  Emi didn’t look convinced. “Are you going to move or leave this school?” she asked.

  “What?” Sumiko quickly pulled her arm off of her friend’s shoulder as the gravity of the situation hit her. “Are you?”

  Emi shrugged. She seemed so different from the confident, fun-loving girl that Sumiko knew her to be.

  Sumiko looked around the cafeteria. She wondered if the other students really did think of her and Emi differently than before the attack. I wonder if anyone is listening to us? Sumiko wished there were an invisible wall she could put up around the two of them to protect them from their classmates.

  Emi was inside her own private nightmare, too, and didn’t seem to notice Sumiko’s paranoia. “Some people don’t want us here anymore,” Emi said. “I overheard my parents talking about it yesterday.”

  Sumiko’s face turned red and hot. She couldn’t feel her feet. “What do you mean, they don’t want us here? We’re Americans.”

  “Well, we’re Japanese too. The Japanese bombed us,” Emi said.

  “So what? That doesn’t have anything to do with us,” Sumiko said.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure everyone feels that way. They think we’re loyal to Japan.”

  Chapter Seven

  December 10, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  The whole world has gone mad. It’s as if overnight, the entire country hates me and people that look like me.

  People have been calling the Japanese “Japs.” That includes me and my family. They say things like, “You can’t trust any of them” and, “Get them out of our state.” In the lunchroom yesterday, someone called me and Emi “slanty-eyed Japs.” I wanted to run to the bathroom and cry, but Emi said we should just ignore them. Still, it hurt.

  The only kids I talk to in school now are Japanese—but that number is getting smaller as people leave school. I don’t know where they are all going. For most of them, there have been no goodbyes.

  I cannot understand why everyone hates my family now. We are American citizens. We’re all on the same side!

  Sumiko

  December 11, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  Newspapers say that “Jap spies” stand ready to attack at any moment. The Issei, they say, bought land near airfields years ago in preparation for this war. They say Japanese farmers plow ditches in certain directions to signal to the Japanese enemy planes above.

  Why don’t people realize how ridiculous this all sounds? We’re not spies. The only people I know that have even been to Japan are Obaasan and Ojiisan, and they haven’t been there in over twenty years.

  Papa says the newspapers are filled with lies. That Japan, Germany, and Italy are the enemies too. But then why are people acting like WE are the enemies?

  Sumiko

  Sumiko breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Emi’s voice.

  “Are you okay?” Sumiko asked. She had called Emi on the telephone because Emi wasn’t in school that day.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Emi said. “I’m just sick.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. But I’m relieved. I was worried you had left Mesa,” Sumiko said.

  “No, we’re still here. I don’t think my parents are planning to move, especially with the store and all,” Emi said.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” Sumiko said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I could say the same about you,” Emi said. “I can tell my parents are really worried, though. I hear them whispering when they think I’m not around. Something’s not right.”

  “It’s the same thing at my house too.”

  The girls sat in silence for a moment until Sumiko asked, “Do you think we should be . . . afraid?”

  “I don’t know,” Emi said. “I just don’t know.”

  December 12, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  Something is coming.

  I’m supposed to be doing my homework right now, but I can’t concentrate. I heard about my neighbors packing up and leaving, people who have lived here as long as I can remember.

  Papa tells me that we are Americans and that no one is out to get us. He says we need to carry on with the farm and things will get better. But if he’s right, then why are so many people afraid? Why do I feel like I need to prove that I’m American?

  I feel like something bad is chasing us and I just can’t get away.

  Sumiko

  Chapter Eight

  December 16, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  All around us, people are leaving their homes to move somewhere else in the Valley or to other states, like Colorado, that are friendlier to Japanese Americans. I know Mama wants to do the same. I’ve heard her talking to Papa about it. But moving isn’t an option for us, at least not right now. My parents have worked so hard to farm this land. If we went somewhere else, we’d have to start all over. But I think we are safe here. Nothing has happened to us . . . at least not yet.

  Sumiko

  December 19, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  Today in school, Jimmy told me that my family is taking his family’s money away from him. Jimmy’s family farms too. (Well, his mama does. His papa died a few years ago.) But it seems like there’s plenty of work and money for everyone here.

  It’s horrible to say, but I’m getting used to the hateful looks and words that people say to me. I expect it to happen every day now. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

  Sumiko

  December 22, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  Christmas is coming soon, and I’m excited. With everything that has been happening, it’s a relief to have something to look forward to. I have a record called Christmas Cheer that I’ve been playing over and over to get myself in the Christmas spirit.

  At school today, I helped put up decorations in the gym. Our class is singing in the Christmas concert. Ruth asked me why I was there. She said, “Do you even celebrate Christmas?” I had to explain to her that yes, I am a Christian. That shut her up, which made me feel pretty good for standing up for myself.

  I have been spending a lot of time with Emi, and Mama is teaching me to play the piano after school. I think I’m getting better. I don’t mind when people listen as I play. I played a song for Emi last week and she danced along with it. Maybe Emi was right—we could be a Hollywood team someday.

  Sumiko

  December 25, 1941

  Dear Diary,

  It’s Christmas! Even though we didn’t have a tree this year (Mama said she just couldn’t do it—maybe it’s the war), our day was still perfect.

  Like we’ve done for the past few years, we went to the Millers. Yes, even in the middle of a war, our German American neighbors (and friends!) had us over to celebrate. It was wonderful, with a big Christmas tree and a big Christmas dinner.

  A
surprise came too. Obaasan and Ojiisan called from California! It was so good to hear from them.

  I hardly thought about the war the entire day. Surrounded by family, friends, and general Christmas cheer, it was easy not to.

  I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the war will end soon. I wish every day were like this.

  Sumiko

  Chapter Nine

  Sumiko knew something wasn’t right as soon as she walked up the road to her house.

  There was a strange car parked in front, and she couldn’t see her mama or papa working in the fields. It’s too early to have stopped work for the day. Sumiko readjusted her schoolbag on her shoulder and reached out a trembling hand to open the screen door to her house.

  Her mama was sitting on the couch, her hands in her lap and her back stick-straight. Silently, Haruko motioned for her daughter to sit down beside her, and Sumiko did. Through the half-open door to the bedroom, Sumiko spied a white man with an overcoat rifling through her parents’ belongings. He opened each drawer and dumped the contents onto the floor. Sumiko could tell her mother was trying to keep her composure.

  The white man checked their closets. It seemed like he had opened everything already, but he continued. Sumiko wasn’t sure what he was searching for.

  “Where is Papa?” Sumiko asked her mother in her softest voice. “Did they arrest him?”

  Mama shook her head. “He’s irrigating,” she whispered, glancing out the window.

  Don’t come inside, Sumiko screamed in her mind.

  The agents—there were two of them, Sumiko realized—were absorbed in their work. An agent with a fedora had just moved to search Sumiko’s bedroom too. She saw him looking at drawings in her sketchbook. Angry, frustrated, and humiliated, Sumiko squirmed in her seat while the man scoured the rest of her room.

  The agents consulted one another in low voices. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they walked to where Sumiko and her mama were seated in the living room.