Cherry Blossom Baseball (13 page)

“
Don't be silly,” her mother said with a smile. “She has plenty of time for boys.”

H
er father beckoned her into the living room, where a bedsheet covered a large, boxy shape. Her father removed it with a flourish to present a handmade chest of buffed birch, lined with cedar. Michiko gasped. The
tansu
was a traditional gift for girls that turned twelve. All the Japanese girls in camp talked about filling these hope chests with embroidered pillowcases, dresser scarves, and table cloths. Now Michiko had one too, but the catcher's glove and a pair of running shoes she hoped to put inside it had nothing to do with marriage.

BATTER UP

M
ichiko
usually ate with Billy, but he wasn't in the lunch room. She spotted his little sister sitting on her own. “Annie,” she called, “come and eat with me.”

The dandelion-haired little girl piled her lunch into her arms and hurried over.

“Where's Billy?” Michiko asked.

Annie spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. “He's mad at me.”

“Why?”

“I can't throw the ball the way he wants,” she said. “He yells at me so much, I told him I'm not playing anymore.”

Michiko's eyes lit up. “Tell him to come over to my place. I can throw him the ball.”

Annie stopped chewing. “Can I come too?”

“Sure,” Michiko said. “You can play with Hiro and my baby sister.”

Mary plunked a brown paper bag down on the table beside her. Michiko looked up and gave her a wide grin. Her plan of helping Mary at lunchtime was working. “I'd love to see your baby sister,” Mary said. “I bet she is really cute.”

“Not when you have to change her diaper,” Michiko said. “You can come any time you want,” she told Mary, but she didn't say it with confidence. She knew Mary lived in a huge, fancy house at the edge of the village. Carolyn was on the same street, quick to point out they faced Lake Ontario, far away from where the lower class lived.

After school, Billy crossed the road carrying his baseball bat, glove, and ball. He used a practice swing to demonstrate his perfect slice.

Michiko tossed the ball in his direction.

Billy let it pass. “Is that the best you can throw?” he jeered as Hiro and Annie ran for it.

Michiko gave him a hard stare.

“Ball one,” someone called out. Michiko looked up to see Eddie leaning his bike against the tree.
So that's who's going to help out around the farm,
she thought.

Billy straightened his shoulders at the sight of Eddie and looked to the road. “H-e-a-d-s up!” he yelled to the two tiny outfielders. “This one is bouncing right off the barn.”

Something her grandfather used to say popped into Michiko's head as she positioned herself for the next pitch. “Don't value a badger skin before catching the badger,” she yelled back. Only she was thinking of the leather skin of the ball.

Michiko threw another ball, and Billy let it go by.

“I could have hit that one if I wanted,” he said, “but I'm looking for something meaner.”

Eddie took a seat in front of Hiro's jars of bugs that lined the porch. His white T-shirt seemed to glow against his smooth, tanned skin. “Ball two,” he yelled out with a grin. “When are you going to stop talking and start swinging?”

Michiko's next ball landed low. Billy swung and blasted a hit down the lane.

“Foul ball,” Eddie yelled.

Annie ran to retrieve it.

“I think you are a worse pitcher than my little sister,” Billy complained as he leaned on the bat, waiting for Annie to roll them the ball.

Michiko planted her feet in the grass, wound up, and fired the ball at him.

Billy swung and missed.

“Strike two,” Eddie called out. He stood, went to his bike, and pulled a leather glove from the handlebar. “I'll catch the next one.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and pushed out his lower lip. He put the bat to his shoulder and glared at Michiko. “Put some fire on it,” he shouted.

Michiko decided to try one of her Uncle Kaz's specialities. She gripped the ball with her middle fingers, pulled it to her chin, and wound up. Just before she let the ball go, she put the brakes on it. Billy's eyes grew wide at the sight of such an easy hit. He swung so hard, he spun around and fell to the ground.

“You're out,” Eddie said as Annie and Hiro fell on the grass, laughing. He turned to Michiko. “Where did you learn to throw like that?”

Michiko thought about her grandfather teaching her to pitch. With a stick, he'd drawn a line from the plate to where she was standing. Then he showed her how to take a step with her front foot, push off with her back, and let the ball fly. It whizzed across the plate, his open fingers pointed at the target. “You do this one thousand times,” he said, “step, turn, snap, one thousand times.”

O
ne thousand times!
Michiko recalled her astonishment. But she did it. Not all in one day, but a couple of hours after school, against the wall of the drugstore, and before she knew it, she could pitch better than the rest of her class, even the boys.

“My grandfather loved baseball,” she replied, returning from her thoughts. She didn't bother to mention that her Uncle Kaz had been a professional ball player until the war.

Eddie squinted and studied her face. He picked up the bat and sauntered up to the patch of dirt they used for home plate. “Let's see what you're made of.” He tossed Billy his glove. “Isn't that right? Mitch?”

Michiko blinked.
He recognizes me.
She swallowed hard and planted her feet in the grass. Just as she was about to deliver her first pitch, her father and Mr. Downey walked across the front lawn. Sam tapped his boss on the shoulder and pointed. They stood with their arms crossed.

She threw. Eddie let her first pitch pass.

“Ball one,” Billy called out.

Michiko threw him a fastball. Eddie swung and missed.

“Strike one,” Billy yelled out in glee.

Michiko moved the ball around in her hand. Her father lowered his arms and moved in closer. She took a deep breath, wound up, and let the ball go. Eddie swung and missed.

Her father grinned and elbowed Mr. Downey.

“Strike two,” Billy yelled out. “You're in trouble now.”

Annie danced about the field, and Hiro copied her.

Michiko remembered what Uncle Kaz had told her about his pitching when he played for the Asahi team:
Always mix it up.

She threw the ball straight at him, and he tapped it foul.

Eddie's face went red.

Michiko rested her pitching arm against her leg and closed her eyes. If she were to strike him out, he might get angry and say something about giving her a ride home right in front of her father. She opened her eyes when Annie came up with the ball. She grabbed it, holding her fingers in the “okay” position, focussed on Billy's glove, and threw.

Eddie swung and missed.

Billy stood up, looking at the ball in his mitt, with his mouth wide open. Her father gave her a thumbs-up and nudged Mr. Downey again.

Eddie tossed the bat to the ground. He took off his hat. Droplets of sweat sat along his hairline. He wiped his hand across his brow. “Thirsty work, all this striking out.”

“Oh,” Michiko said. All her mother's advice about how to treat visitors came to her in a rush. “I'll get you a drink of water.” She ran into the house and paused at the sink to catch her breath. When she pushed open the screen door, Eddie sat on the porch holding one of Hiro's bug jars.

Michiko handed him the glass with a shaky hand. As she looked into his sky-blue eyes, their fingers touched, making hers tingle.

Eddie grinned as he took it. “I did the same thing when I was a kid,” he said. “I had hundreds of bugs in my bedroom.”

“Once he came home with the skull of a mouse,” Michiko said, relieved Eddie wasn't angry she'd struck him out. “Hiro has to let all the bugs go at night.”

“Good thing,” Eddie said. “When my snake escaped, my mother went wild.” He drained the glass. “Looks like I've got to get to work,” he said. Then he walked off toward the orchard.

Michiko tucked her ponytail under her baseball cap and followed Billy out of the parking lot. She was thrilled to be invited to watch him try out for the town team. His dream, like all the other boys trying out, was to play on a winning team. Each year the Bronte Horticultural Society awarded embroidered hats. If Billy's team won, the team caps would have the initials BB on them, for Bronte Braves.

“Hello, Mr. Ward,” Billy called out as he waved to one of the teachers when they reached the back of the schoolyard. The grey-haired man, wearing a Yankees cap that had seen a lot of seasons, had a stomach that hung over his belt like a bag of rice. As he hitched up his sagging pants, he eyed Michiko's ball cap.

Billy whispered to Michiko as they walked toward him. “He's a real baseball nut. He had the radio on the whole time we were in gym class just to listen to the World Series.”

“I've never seen a cap like that before,” the coach said. “What's the team?”

“Asahi,” Michiko replied. “Best in the west.”

“The west?” Mr. Ward asked. “You mean like Texas?”

Michiko gave him a thin smile. “West of the Rockies,” she said.

Billy left her to join the boys on the field. Michiko knew every boy in the district wanted to make the cut. They all had the same hope of working their way up the ranks, playing in front of a scout, and making a professional team. Billy talked nonstop about the St. Louis Cardinals and their World Series results. He'd told her a million times he'd be wearing their white woollen tunic and red striped socks once he finished high school.

Most of her class was there to watch. Mary waved to her from a tartan rug on the grassy mound under a tree at the back of the field. Carolyn sat beside her.

Michiko walked to the blanket and sat down. Her bottom hit something hard. She pulled out Eddie's baseball glove and put it on her lap. Her fingers crept inside, and she opened and closed the leather pouch.

“What do you think you're doing?” Carolyn screeched. “You have no business touching anything that's not yours.” She reached across to yank the glove away.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Eddie asked as he appeared at their side. “My dad sent to the States for it.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Carolyn said in a high voice as she adjusted the straps of her shoes instead.

Michiko handed Eddie his glove, and he headed toward the field. He turned back and called out, “You can see better from up here.”

Michiko stood up to go, but Mary caught her hand and said, “You might get hurt.”

“Let her,” Carolyn said. “It'll serve her right.”

Michiko jogged over to the fence. Her eyes met Eddie's, and he gave her a wink. For some strange reason, her stomach did a flip.

TRYOUTS