them a tiny wooden house. So many Japanese families came into this small town that Japanese children had to attend school in three places.
A small fist rapped at the drugstore window. “Here is our Kairanban girl,” Michiko called out, unlocking the front door. “Right on time.”
The small brass bell over the door jingled. Mr. Hayashi stood behind Kiko.
Kiko, a short, pudgy girl, placed a small stack of Kairanban on the counter. Her flat nose sat on her face like a button. Kiko once told Michiko she pinched it every day to make it point.
Michiko had met Kiko Sagara at the Hardware Store School. She sat next to her with her arms crossed, hands tucked under her armpits, glaring at the teacher. Kiko didn’t want to be back in class after a whole year of freedom. It was Kiko who taught Michiko new ways to fold paper. She helped Michiko find the right paper for her tulips.
“Put them behind the counter,” Mr. Hayashi directed. “A newspaper written in Kanji makes some people in town nervous.” This short man, full of energy, respected and admired by all, knew the rules. As camp security officer he translated for those who didn’t understand.
“They probably think it’s something subversive,” Sam said.
“The only thing subversive is Mrs. Takata’s recipe for meatless meatloaf,” he replied, and gave a great hearty laugh.
“Can you stay?” Michiko asked.
“Of course,” Kiko replied. “My father knows there’s no point in asking me to rush back from your house.” She smiled through the curtain of straight dark hair that covered her eyes. Kiko didn’t have a mother to show her how to use a bobby pin or barrette.
“I have a secret,” Kiko whispered in Michiko’s ear.
“Tell me at the pond,” Michiko told her. “I’m going to look for frogs.”
“You mean tadpoles,” Kiko corrected her. “They won’t be frogs until summer.” Having a newspaper editor for a father, Kiko was always sure of her facts.
Together they filled the magazine rack. The specialness of the day filled Michiko with joy. What could be better than having a friend like Kiko ready to share a secret?
Chapter Two
THE SECRET
Michiko waited at the top of the landing while Kiko removed her shoes. It took time to loosen the laces in the thick piece of brown leather that rode their shoes like a saddle. Both of them desperately wanted a pair of black patent Mary Janes from the catalogue.
Kiko slipped her feet into a pair of woven-grass slippers on the landing.
“Can Kiko stay for lunch?” Michiko asked. Her mother stood with her back to them, stirring a pot at the stove.
“Hello, Mrs. Minagawa,” Kiko said in a quiet voice. “If there’s not enough, I understand.”
“We have enough,” Michiko’s mother said as she added slivers of mushroom to the tiny bits of chopped meat cooking in shoyu. “You are welcome to stay.” Steam rose from the rice pot simmering on the stove. Its butter-like smell filled the kitchen.
“Can we help?” Kiko asked.
Michiko groaned. Kiko was always trying to please her mother.
“You can help me by taking Hiro outside for some fresh air,” Eiko told them. “I can work faster if I don’t have to keep an eye on him.”
Geechan sat at the kitchen table, wrapping twine around the pegs. Soon Michiko’s Uncle Ted would come to help them dig a garden. Ted was the first member of the Minagawa family to arrive in this town. He used to build boats, but the government sent him there to build little wooden houses instead. When they moved to the apartment, Ted filled the farmhouse with bunks. All the single men lived there now and they called it the Bachelor House.
Even though the town still wore a bleak winter look, the trees along the main street had a haze of new growth. Michiko hoped they could plant flowers. Fresh flowers would bring a smile to her mother’s face. She loved to watch her mother use her short sharp scissors. After clipping a bloom, she would wind it with wire and stick it into a cluster of pins at the bottom of a vase.
Michiko, Kiko, and Hiro stepped off the wooden walkway in front of the drugstore onto Main Street, which ran from the mountains to the lake.
Two streets divided Main Street into three parts. Church Street crossed at the top, where houses surrounded the little white steeple church. These small frame houses with narrow windows were different from the ones in Vancouver. There weren’t any shingled sides or verandahs with pillars.
Maple Street crossed Main in the middle. This block held the butcher shop and the drugstore where Michiko lived. Across the street was the Hardware Store School.
The Mounted Police office, the General Store, the Hall, and a few empty stores were at the lower end of town. Boards covered many of the upper windows and piles of dirty snow and dead leaves hung about the doorways. The post office was inside the General Store. Across from the General Store, huge wooden steps led to the Grand Hotel’s waterfront.
The national flag stirred lightly in the breeze above the hotel, the only three-storey building in town. On the street level, beneath the wide wooden verandah, were dim hotel offices. The entrance hall off the verandah led into a long hall with rooms on either side. These were the classrooms for high school students. The top floor bedrooms housed the women teachers. Michiko’s Aunt Sadie was one of the teachers at the Hotel High School.
Michiko and Kiko walked Hiro down the street to the baseball field. It was really just the vacant lot beside the hotel, but the kids used it as a playground. A large pond sat in the middle.
Halfway across the field, Kiko turned to the Mounted Police station and stuck out her tongue. Michiko raised her eyebrows. “Why did you do that?”
“Because,” Kiko answered, “those Mounties are going to make us move again.”
“When?” Michiko asked. She tried not to think about what had happened to her father because whenever she did she got scared.
“Who knows?” Kiko responded. “All I know is my father is calling a meeting.”
“Is that your secret?” Michiko asked as Hiro broke away from their hands and ran across the field. “That there will be a meeting?”
“No.” Kiko giggled. “This is something fun, not something pol-it-i-cal.”
Michiko had to smile at the way Kiko dragged out every one of the syllables. It was an imitation of her father’s way of speaking.
Hiro picked up a stick and gave one of the small puddles a poke. The ice made the stick bend and snap. Hiro discarded the stick and picked up a small rock. He threw the rock into the middle of the puddle, making a spiderweb crack. The girls joined him, breaking the ice with their heels. The strong stench of mud made them plug their noses.
Hiro investigated another slab of ice. He picked up a rock and threw it down. Michiko saw him frown when it bounced and skidded away. This gave her an idea.
“Hiro,”
