“This is an electric beam,” he boasted.
Clarence came late into the yard, returning the coal bucket from the small stove to the shed at the back. The sun tinged his red hair with gold as he closed the shed door with the toe of his boot.
At lunchtime, Miss Henderson asked Michiko to remain inside, while the others spilled out on to the wooden trestle table in the side yard. She gave Michiko a few words to spell and several passages to read. Then they ate their lunch together in friendly silence.
After lunch, the class had a botany lesson. The teacher directed them to sketch a flowering plant. If they wished, they could use watercolors to enhance their drawing. Michiko’s eyes shone when the students passed back pieces of drawing paper. She found that drawing often helped her to ease her fears. Her joy diminished, however, when she opened the green enamel box. Most of the cakes of colour were gone. Those left had large holes in the centre, and the white enamel of the box’s bottom showed through.
Clarence watched her sketch a long stem with small buds. Below, she drew clusters of small-petal blooms.
“That’s good,” he said. “It’s a lilac, right?”
Michiko looked up, but he turned back to his work.
“Prepare for dismissal,” the teacher announced.
Michiko blew gently on her paper before slipping it inside her desk.
“No leapfrogging across the desks,” Miss Henderson warned the boys at the back as the children crowded towards the door.
Michiko raced along the hard dirt road until she reached the wooden bridge. Then she slowed down to walk the rest of the way. School had not been anything like the one she went to at home. She didn’t know how to tell her mother that she had a new name.
At home, she slapped her furoshiki on to the kitchen table, laid her head down and closed her eyes. Her mother moved her hands to retrieve the bundle.
“What are these small cuts on your fingers?” Eiko asked. “What have you been doing?”
A bundle of thorny dark green stems and small pink roses fell out of the furoshiki.
Michiko opened her eyes. “The teacher said,” she mumbled, “if you pick flowers and hang them to dry, they will keep their colour.” She closed her eyes again. “We always had flowers on the table at home.”
Nine
A Boat Called Apple
Everyone is to begin on page one,” Miss Henderson directed as she handed out the papers. “Work as far as you can.”
The class groaned as their day began with an arithmetic test.
Michiko twisted her braid before she started. She whizzed through the first page. It was all addition and subtraction questions. She turned the page. Clarence, she noticed, was counting his fingers inside his desk.
She completed the second page of multiplication and division questions and moved on to the third. It was word problems. After reading the first, she gazed across the room. Miss Henderson smiled at her. Michiko lowered her head to make a small drawing to help solve the problem.
A sudden sting on the back of her head made her jerk upright. Clarence picked up the bit of crumpled paper that bounced on to his desk. He slid it inside and unfolded it. His face flamed redder than his hair.
Michiko looked behind her. The boy with the bike smirked at her. Clarence ripped the note in half and stuck it in his shirt pocket.
“Put your papers on my desk on your way out,” Miss Henderson directed.
The girls skipped but didn’t invite Michiko to join. She stood and watched until Miss Henderson emerged from the school. As she waved the hand bell, Clarence ambled up to her side.
“I always wait until the rest have gone in,” he told her. “That way nobody pushes you.” He waited with Michiko until everyone was inside before he spoke again. “Most of the students dislike George,” he told her. “Try to stay out of his way.”
“Millie,” the teacher called out as she entered the classroom. “I’ve marked your arithmetic paper. Well done. I’m moving you up a grade. You are to sit beside George from now on.”
Michiko’s eyes darted to Clarence’s as she picked up her notebook and pencil. She moved to the desk beside the boy who owned the bike, took a deep breath, sat down, and smiled.
His clear blue eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Are you one of those Dirty Japs?” he whispered.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I asked if you were a Dirty Jap,” he repeated.
Michiko heard him clearly that time.
George stared at her, waiting for something to happen. But Michiko couldn’t think of anything to say. She flipped through the pages of the textbook. She would have liked to have said something, if she only knew what.
At home Michiko talked about her day at school. “A boy in my class called me a Dirty Jap,” she said to her mother’s back as she prepared dinner.
“And what did you say?” Eiko asked without turning around.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“What is a Dirty Jap?” Michiko asked, moving to her mother’s side.
Ted and Sadie overheard as they came into the kitchen.
“Did you do or say anything to this boy to make him angry?” her uncle wanted to know.
Michiko shook her head. “After the arithmetic test, the teacher made me sit beside him.”
“That means he’s jealous,” Sadie said. “He was used to being the smartest in the class until you came along.”
“Why did he call me dirty?” Michiko asked. “Even the teacher complimented me on my clean socks.”
Ted pulled her into his arms. “I’m afraid in the eyes of some people, all Japs are dirty.”
“Especially Hiro, when he fills his diapers,” Sadie said loudly. She laughed heartily.
“Shizukani, Sadie,” Eiko cautioned her. “This is why I didn’t want her to go to school.” She leaned against the sink. “I could have taught her here.”
“With what?” Sadie retorted. “We don’t have any books. Besides, she should know what is going on.”
Sadie pulled Michiko away from Ted. “Listen, Michiko,” she said, spinning her around to face her. “The lesson you learned at school today wasn’t about arithmetic. It was current events.”
“Stop it,” Eiko cried.
Sadie ignored her. “Canada is at war with Japan
