Cherry Blossom Baseball (7 page)

JAP GIRL

T
he
morning air was crisp but not cold — a perfect fall day. The breeze that brushed Michiko's hair brought the smells of damp earth, wet grass, and fading flowers. She gathered her coat tightly to her neck as she walked to the top of the lane for the school bus. At least she didn't have to walk all the way; a real school bus picked her up, not an old truck with benches in the back.

Tall and slim, like a gladiola stalk, Michiko often stared in the bathroom window wondering when she was going to produce buds. Everything she owned was too small. Even the sleeves of her coat were halfway up her arms. She wished she had a white wool coat like the one Mary wore to school. Michiko loved the way the large pleat at the back swung when Mary walked.

“Thank goodness for my sewing machine,” her mother had said that morning with a deep sigh. “Everything will have to be adjusted.”

Michiko knew what her mother really meant. No new clothes to anticipate. And there was no use going through the Eaton's catalogue talking about all the clothes she'd like to order, the way she used to do with Aunt Sadie. Her mother had no time to listen.

At breakfast, Michiko had watched her father as he looked through the newspaper before heading out into the fields, to see if he was still angry.
It was so unfair
, she thought. One of Hiro's favourite games was holding onto a tree branch, pulling his legs up and flipping over the branch. Her father had caught her playing this game in her skirt and sent her to her room to think about behaving like a lady.

Seeing a windfall, she picked up the apple and pitched it into the orchard. It soared across the grass and hit the gnarled trunk of an old apple tree. What she wouldn't give to have a pair of overalls like the ones Clarence wore, but girls around here didn't even wear slacks to school, let alone farm clothes. Overalls and running shoes were the two things she wanted more than anything else in the world.

Michiko pulled her new Hilroy exercise book to her chest for warmth. The cover had a drawing of a German plane crashing into the sea. In the drawing, the pilot was escaping by parachute, but the boys in her class filled their notebook covers with drawings of planes shooting at him, with drops of blood dripping to an ocean full of sharks.

Annie waved to her from the bus window as it pulled up. Today she wore a knitted cone-shaped hat with a red pom-pom on the top. Michiko knew the little girl would leave her seat to sit beside her, as she did every day.

“Do you like my hat?” was the first thing Annie asked. “My mom made it.”

Michiko nodded.

“She could make you one too,” Annie continued. “Then we could pretend to be twins.”

Michiko smiled at the little girl's silly thought.

Annie glanced at the small drawstring bag that Michiko carried. “What's in the bag?”

“Gym clothes,” Michiko said. She realized that even the longest of answers wouldn't stop Annie's inquisitiveness, so she kept them short.

Michiko had been surprised when Miss Barnhart told her to write
gym outfit
on her list. Her mother wasn't, however, and the next day she came home from school to find a navy blue jumper with a bib top, large pleated skirt, and matching bloomers on her bed.
A dress for physical education?
Michiko wondered. “What about running shoes?” she asked in a voice full of hope.

“They weren't on the list,” her mother replied. “Besides, winter boots come first.”

“But I can't do gym in my saddle shoes,” Michiko complained. “They're too hard.”

Eiko thought for a moment. “Then take those with you.”

Michiko looked down at her battered corduroy house shoes. The rubber soles curled in at the edges, and there was a worn spot over each toe. “You want me to wear my slippers at school?” she shrieked. She threw herself face down onto her bed and covered her head with a pillow.

Eiko frowned and put her hands on her hips. “There are far more important things to spend money on in this world,” she said as she left the room.

Michiko turned to the wall and sighed. If she wore slippers for gym, Carolyn Leahey would never stop making fun of her.
She's just like George King,
Michiko realized when her mother left. He had made her life miserable in her old town, and Carolyn was doing the same here.

“Billy is going to join the chess club,” Annie said, bringing her back to reality. “He told my dad he's going to learn how to beat him. What about you?”

Annie's question set Michiko thinking. She'd completely forgotten about Sign-Up Day. The school offered special clubs in the winter months, and once a week classes would be dismissed early for extracurricular activities. Because of the war, daylight savings time was observed all year long. Town students needed written permission to walk home or had to be picked up. Carolyn made a big production of offering anyone a ride home in her father's old car. She never stopped bragging about their new convertible that would arrive in the summer. She claimed her father had chosen the green colour to match her eyes.

Michiko was just going to have to stay out of Carolyn's way as much as possible, and that meant making sure they were not in the same club. Then she had an idea.

“Annie,” she said as they got off the bus, “would you like to do me a favour?”

“Sure,” the little girl said, her eyes lighting up as she broke into a wide smile.

“Do you know a girl named Carolyn in my class?”

“Carolyn the Creep?” Annie rolled her eyes. “Billy complains about her all the time.”

“Would you find out what club she's going to join and let me know at afternoon recess?”

Annie nodded and dashed across the playground to get in line.

“Don't forget to put your name on the club lists before you leave,” Miss Barnhart reminded the class at dismissal. “The sheets are on the bulletin board outside the office.”

Michiko followed the line of students down the hall.
Anything but choir,
she told herself as she stared at the labelled sheets of paper before her.

Checkers, Chess, Choir, Cooking, Junior Horti­cultural, Indoor Sports, Junior Farmers, Knitting, Pen Pals, Sewing, and Stamp Collecting were the choices.
These choices aren't that much fun,
she thought. In their Japanese clubs they had learned origami, which was how she knew to make paper flowers. Some kids, like her friend Kiko, learned
taiko
. Her aunt taught
odori
. Michiko looked up and down the lists again.

“Hurry up,” someone called out from the back, “I ain't got all day.”

“Yeah,” Carolyn's shrill voice rose above the others. “Hurry up, Jap Girl.”

Michiko froze, holding her pencil in midair.

“She's Japanese?” someone asked. “I thought she was Chinese.”

“Aren't we fighting the Japs?” someone else asked.

“You're not kidding,” a boy said. “Kamikazes sank a carrier in the Pacific last week.”

“What's a kamikaze?” another boy asked.

“Why don't you ask her?” Carolyn suggested. “They're
her
people.”

“What?”

Several students moved forward to hear better.

“Hey,” someone cried out. “Quit pushing.”

“Settle down,” one of the teachers called out as he came out of the office. “Form a line and take turns, like good citizens.”

Michiko could hardly see the paper in front of her when she signed her name. As she made her way to the bus, all she could think was,
Not again, not here too.

“Mr. Takahashi and Dad spoke Japanese,” Michiko said that night while doing the dishes. “But I didn't understand most of it.”

Eiko turned a plate over to examine its cleanliness.

“What is
jidosha
and
yakyu
?” Michiko asked.

“
Jidosha
means car,” her mother replied, “and
yakyu
means baseball. You should know those words by now,” she said. “That's all your father ever talks about, cars and baseball.”

“There was another word,” Michiko said, working to keep her voice even. “What does kamikaze mean?”

Her mother put the dish on the table and looked at Michiko with a furrowed brow.

“Kamikaze,” she repeated. “That's really two words.
Kami
is the word for god or divine spirit, and
kaze
means wind.” Eiko shook her head. “What on earth could they be discussing?”

“Probably just someone's pitching style,” Michiko said, skipping off to her room. She closed the door and sat at the end of her bed.
Those Japanese pilots must come out of the sky like lightning,
she thought. She picked up one of her slippers and threw it across the room.
Being Japanese is wrecking my whole life.

The next morning, Michiko sat with her head in her hands at the breakfast table. Her mother placed a bowl of rice in front of her. She looked up and pushed it away. “Why can't we drink orange juice and eat cereal like everyone else?”

“How do you know everyone else eats cereal?”

How could she possibly explain her constant embarrassment during morning health inspection? Carolyn, this week's inspector, took her job of checking for clean fingernails, a handkerchief, and a good breakfast very seriously. Instead of asking, “Did you have a good breakfast?” Carolyn demanded to know what everyone ate and mocked their responses. She loved it when Michiko responded by saying “Rice.”

“Rice?” Carolyn would repeat in a loud voice, feigning utter amazement. “You had rice for breakfast?”

“I am the only one in my class who has rice for breakfast,” Michiko said to her mother.

“Well,” her mother said, “it's your father's favourite breakfast food.”

“Well, it is not mine,” Michiko said loudly as she shoved the bowl across the table. “He can have two helpings from now on.”