Dolls of Hope (7 page)

I have to be there.
The thought pierced Chiyo. Someone needed to watch General Miyamoto’s daughter. Deep inside, she feared that no one would.

But maybe I’ll be chosen, too. Why not? Watanabe-sensei likes my singing.
Fearing disappointment, she tried to push hope back. But she waited as eagerly as the others.

“Watanabe-sensei,” Hoshi said. “Tamura Chiyo is new to our class. She does not know ‘The Welcome Song’ well. She would embarrass our school and should stay here.”

This was Hoshi’s answer to the watching
kokeshi.
Chiyo felt her heart sink. The rhythm of the welcome song carried her voice like the wind, but she
was
having trouble memorizing all the words.
Who will protect the dolls?

Hana raised her hand. “Sensei, Miss Miyamoto is mistaken. Chiyo will know all the words. I am teaching them to her.”

Sensei waved his hands for silence. “Miss Tamura’s clear voice blends well with the rest of you. She will be considered when I make my selection. Now let us practice once again. I wish to hear joy in your voices.”

Chiyo smiled at Hana as Hoshi’s face became expressionless. The War of the Cushions had been joined by the War of the Welcome Song, though neither raged as fiercely as the War of the Burned
Kokeshi.

In the days following Watanabe-sensei’s announcement, Chiyo put her heart into the music lessons and practiced after school with Hana. She knew the others were practicing, too. In four days, Sensei would announce his decision. Impatience ran through the class.

The trip to Tokyo was all anyone talked about. In music class, every girl moved restlessly at her desk or sat forward on the edge of her chair. At last, the four days had passed. Watanabe-sensei prepared to write six names on the blackboard. As expected, Hoshi’s was first. When Hana’s name was added, Chiyo beamed at her friend. Another name went up and then another: Shizuko and Tomi, both girls who boarded at the school.

Chiyo could scarcely breathe. Only six girls were to go to Tokyo. Four were already listed. Everyone in class had become still. She could not look away from the board.

Sensei likes my voice.
Her thoughts rang so loudly, she thought the others must hear. She didn’t care. She had to be chosen. And why wouldn’t she? She thought of the moment Headmaster had her sing for Watanabe-sensei and of Sensei’s pleased reaction.
He said he wanted to work with me. He must add my name!

Watanabe-sensei consulted a note in his hand, raised his chalk, and wrote again. Ito Kimiko.

Kimiko had been pleasant to her. Chiyo was pleased to see her listed.

Hoshi said in a near whisper, “Kimiko, plan to shop with me in Tokyo. I know where we can find kimono jackets pretty enough for the empress.”

Chiyo only half-listened. One space was left.
It has to be me!
She clasped Momo so tightly between her hands, her fingers turned white. Time slowed, as if hours passed while she waited to see the final name placed on the board.

At last, Watanabe-sensei raised his chalk. He wrote: Fujii Michi.

C
hiyo sank back in her chair, her body going limp. She had tried to warn herself that she might not be selected. Now hope turned as black as her
kokeshi
doll’s head.

“
Gomennasai,
Miss Tamura,” Hoshi said in a pitying tone that was not sorry at all. “You must be so disappointed.”

Chiyo wanted to force her face into a calm mask.
Thank you, Miss Miyamoto,
she would say.
You are kind.

She could not do that. Her face would not shape itself into serenity. Sweet words would not rise to her lips. Instead, she put Momo back into her pocket and stared straight ahead. Why send the general’s daughter to welcome the dolls when everyone had heard her say they should be destroyed?

To burn a small
kokeshi
belonging to a farmer’s daughter is a small offense,
Chiyo told herself.
To harm a doll sent in friendship and welcomed by the emperor is not. Even a general’s daughter would never risk that.

Yet uneasiness continued to run chill fingers along Chiyo’s spine.

Michi raised her hand. “Sensei, what days will the group be away?”

Watanabe-sensei looked as excited as the class. “We will leave on Wednesday, the second of March, and stay with private families in Tokyo. The dolls’ grand welcome will take place on March third.”

“That’s Hinamatsuri,” Hoshi said.

“
Hai,
Miss Miyamoto,” Sensei agreed. “The welcome will be held on the day traditionally celebrated by families with their heirloom
hina ningyo.
On Friday, we return here.”

Michi spoke again, sounding close to tears. “I am so sorry. I cannot go. My grandmother is ill. She fears this will be her last Hinamatsuri. She wishes all her daughters and granddaughters to be with her. She has always loved that celebration.”

As others murmured in sympathy, Michi rubbed her palms across her eyes. “
Sumimasen,
Sensei. I cannot go with you to Tokyo.”

“Our sympathy is with you and your family, Miss Fujii,” Sensei said gently.

Chiyo couldn’t breathe. She felt sorry for Michi, but also as if she hovered above the classroom watching while Sensei erased the girl’s name from the board. Chalk dust and suspense floated in the air. Someone must replace Michi.

Sensei looked at Hana. Was he about to choose her? Chiyo’s hope sagged before she remembered that Hana was already on the list. “Miss Nakata,” Sensei asked Hana, “are you a good teacher?”

“Yes!” Hana’s quick smile brightened her entire face as she looked at Chiyo.

Had all the air been sucked from the room? There wasn’t any left for breathing. Chiyo clutched Momo, not caring if charcoal smeared her pocket.

Sensei turned again to the blackboard. In quick, bold strokes, he filled the space left by the erasure: Tamura Chiyo.

She was sorry for Michi’s disappointment, but in her mind, Chiyo leaped to her feet, shouting.
I’m going! I’m to help welcome the American dolls!

She and Hana could talk of nothing else all that afternoon and evening and only settled to sleep when Mrs. Ogata insisted on silence.

The following morning, Watanabe-sensei called the six girls together after class to discuss the trip. They would travel by train. Oki-sensei would join them. But they would not be staying in private homes, after all. “General Miyamoto has arranged for all of you to share one large room in an esteemed hotel in Tokyo. Oki-sensei will stay with you, while I will spend the night nearby and join you in the morning.”

Chiyo looked at Hana, hardly daring to believe this could be true. They were to ride in a train. And stay in a hotel. Until she came to Tsuchiura, Chiyo had never left her mountain village, never even dreamed of such adventure.

When Kaito-sensei dismissed them for lunch, Hana and Chiyo skipped across the courtyard. They didn’t care who might see them behaving like five-year-olds. They were too excited to care.

“This is going to be the best time of our lives,” Hana exclaimed.

Chiyo tried to picture a city the size of Tokyo. “Have you ever been there?”

“Yes, with my parents. There’s so much to do. Wait until you see all the things for sale. There’s a lot to eat, too.”

Chiyo thought of the coins Yamada-san had given her. “Do you think we will have time to look in the shops?”

“If we do, Oki-sensei will insist on going with us. She won’t let any of us out of her sight in a city that big.”

“I won’t mind,” Chiyo said, “as long as she doesn’t make me practice dance in the street.”

Hana laughed. “I can see you now.” She spun around gracefully. “Bumping into everyone!”

Chiyo deliberately bumped into her and they both laughed. “Hoshi and Kimiko plan to shop,” Chiyo said.

“They’re used to the city, but I doubt Sensei will let them go alone.”

“I hope not.” Chiyo looked straight at Hana. “I want to keep an eye on Hoshi whenever she is near the American dolls.”

“We will both watch her,” Hana said, grinning. “That will add to the adventure!”

Hana could make an adventure of anything, Chiyo thought, and giggled. “Let’s watch her now. Let’s take our lunches and sit across the koi pond from Hoshi and her friends.”

“And smile!” Hana exclaimed. “With one hand over our eyes to suggest the now sightless doll!”

Shrieking with laughter, they ran to the dining hall, where they had to be quieter, but kept looking at each other and giggling.

They each picked up a
bento
box, then hurried to the front of the school and picked a grassy spot directly across the pond from Hoshi.

Hoshi frowned, but it was Kimiko who called, “What are you two doing out here?”

“No room in the dining hall,” Hana said, and smiled sweetly while covering her eyes.

Trying not to laugh, Chiyo smiled just as sweetly, with her eyes covered, too.

“You’re acting like babies,” Hoshi said. When Chiyo looked again, all three of the other girls had turned their kimonoed backs and were facing away from the pond.

It made the dried herring and pickled plums in their
bento
boxes taste that much better.

When they returned to Kaito-sensei’s class, Chiyo still giggled whenever she met Hana’s eyes. She tried hard to keep her attention on the kanji characters she was copying, but what were characters compared to the excitement of going to Tokyo?

Class had nearly ended for the day when Headmaster Hanarai’s assistant stepped into the room and spoke briefly with Sensei.

Chiyo tried to tell herself that it had nothing to do with her. There was no reason for small hairs on her arms to be standing upright. Then Sensei looked directly at her. “Miss Tamura, you may be dismissed early. Someone is waiting for you in Headmaster Hanarai’s office.”

Someone? Chiyo’s thoughts raced, providing answers each worse than the last. None prepared her to step into the office and see Yamada Nori.

C
hiyo stopped still while the assistant closed the door behind her. Every poorly done test and missed dance step, along with the burned-doll face aimed at Hoshi, slammed together in her head.

Yamada-san had been sitting in a chair before Headmaster’s desk, talking with Hanarai-sensei. He stood the moment he saw her. Today, he wore a Western-style business suit of a dark blue jacket and trousers. A shiver ran through Chiyo. Was teasing Miss Miyamoto such a crime that the school had sent for Yamada Nori to take her away?

Chiyo desperately wanted to go home, but not in disgrace.
Hoshi deserved the teasing.
She did not think the men would listen to excuses.

No more than seconds had passed while frightening thoughts flashed through her head. She risked a swift glance at Yamada-san’s face before she folded her hands and bowed. He looked pleasant, not angry. Maybe he was not here to remove her.

“You are surprised to see me, little sister,” he said. “I must apologize for not sending word ahead. I’ve had business in Tokyo and decided to stop on my way home to learn how you are fitting in.”

News of her teasing Hoshi had not yet reached him. Chiyo risked a glance at Headmaster Hanarai and was surprised to see him on his feet. “Take your time,” he told Yamada-san. “I am needed in a meeting elsewhere.”

Thankful for momentary escape, Chiyo returned her attention to the man who could take her home to her sister’s wedding . . . or leave her here forever.

In a calm voice, Yamada-san asked, “Have you become friends with General Miyamoto’s daughter?”

Maybe he did know of the teasing. Cautiously, she said, “We have several classes together. Miyamoto Hoshi is well mannered and liked by her teachers.” Before he could ask again about friendship, she said, “My best friend is the daughter of a politician.”

“Nakata Hana,” he said. She wondered what else Headmaster had told him. “Miss Nakata is known to be a high-spirited girl indulged by her father and more likely to laugh at a problem than solve it.”

“She has been kind to me since my first day here.” She had had to leave Yumi behind. She would not stop playing with Hana.

“It is best to choose friends wisely. I hope you will keep this advice in mind.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the headmaster’s desk for a large box wrapped in red paper. “My younger daughter has outgrown this. I thought you might wear it for your sister’s wedding, but I believe you may need it for school ceremonies.”