Full Cicada Moon

DIAL BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

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Copyright © 2015 by Marilyn Hilton

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hilton, Marilyn.

Full cicada moon / by Marilyn Hilton. pages cm

Summary: In 1969 twelve-year-old Mimi and her family move to an all-white town in Vermont, where Mimi's mixed-race background and interest in “boyish” topics like astronomy make her feel like an outsider.

ISBN 978-0-698-19127-3

[1. Novels in verse. 2. Racially mixed people]—Fiction. 3. Sex role]—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.5.H56Fu 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014044894

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Front Cover Girl Image © Terry Husebye, Getty Images;

Additional Images Couresy of iStock

Jacket Design by Lori Thorn

For
Keiko and Robert, Lois and James Wesley,
and their families

Be loving enough

to absorb evil

and understanding enough

to turn an enemy into a friend.

—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

“That's one small step for [a] man,

one giant leap for mankind.”

—Neil
Armstrong

I wish we had flown to Vermont

instead of riding

on a bus, train, train, bus

all the way from Berkeley.

Ten hours would have soared, compared to six days.

But two plane tickets—

one for me and one for Mama—

would have cost a lot of money,

and Papa already spent so much

when he flew home at Thanksgiving.

Mama is sewing buttons on my new slacks

and helping me fill out the forms

for my new school in Hillsborough, our new town.

This might be a new year

but seventh grade is halfway done,

and I'll be the new girl.

I'm stuck at the Ethnicity part.

Check only one
, it says.

The choices are:

White

Black

Puerto Rican

Portuguese

Hispanic

Oriental

Other

I am

half Mama,

half Papa,

and all me.

Isn't that all anyone needs to know?

But the form says
All items must be completed
,

so I ask, “Other?”

Mama pushes her brows together,

making what Papa calls her Toshiro-Mifune face.

“Check all that apply,” she says.

“But it says just one.”

“Do you listen to your mother or a piece of paper?”

I check off Black,

cross out Oriental,

and write
Japanese
with a check mark.

“What will we do now, Mimi-chan?” Mama asks,

which means: Will you read

or do algebra, so you're not behind?

“Take a nap,” I say.

Mama frowns,

but I close my eyes

and pretend we're flying.

The bus driver is the pilot

and every bump in the road

becomes an air pocket in the sky.

A jolt wakes me up. I was dreaming

my
hatsuyume
—the first dream of the new year.

If I tell my
hatsuyume
, it won't come true

because in Japanese,
speak
sounds just like
let go
.

And if my dream meant good luck, I don't want to

let it go.

I dreamed I was a bird, strong and brown

and fast

with feathers tipped magenta and gold.

I shot straight up into the air like a Saturn rocket,

then swooped and dove, the sun warming my back.

I pumped my wings, then glided

over the desert

and the sea.

The air filled my lungs,

the wind lifted my wings

higher and higher

over the mountains

and above the clouds.

The moon grew large,

and I stretched to touch it.

Maybe it was a good-luck dream

and this will be a good year

for Papa and Mama and me.

That's what I hope.

But, what if my
hatsuyume
meant bad luck?

Mama says to let go of your bad dreams by telling them.

Papa says to bury your bad dreams

in a hole as deep as your elbow.

The ground in New England is frozen,

so if I listen to Papa, I'll have to wait until spring.

I'll listen to Mama instead

and write my dream on paper,

so either way—good luck or bad—

my
hatsuyume
will not be spoken.

I have never flown before

but one day

soar.

will

I