Weedflower (19 page)

He lived four blocks away with his mother, father, and seven siblings. He was sitting out front with his older brothers and some friends when Sumiko walked up. The area right above his eye was cut, but not as badly as she would have thought.

“Hi,” she said to him.

“Hi,” he said reluctantly.

“I brought you flowers to apologize for hitting you.”

One of his brothers said, “I thought you said an Indian hit you.”

An older boy said, “You mean a
girl
hit you?” It was the same boy who’d started the fight at the basketball game.

Kenji didn’t answer. The older boys laughed. “A girl hit him!” they teased. They walked off laughing.

Kenji glared at her. “What are you, an
inu
?”

“The inu spy for the
hakujin,
not the Indians.”

He looked at her as if he smelled vinegar. Still, he took the flowers she handed him.

“Do you have any candy?” he asked. “If you do, we’ll call it even.”

“Okay, I’ll owe you.”

“All right. And don’t tell anyone I got hit by a girl,” he warned.

Sumiko could still see the older boys walking off in the distance. “It seems like everyone already knows … now.”

“Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“Okay,” she said.

She went home and collapsed on her cot, feeling exhausted. Auntie and Tak-Tak were already sleeping, but Bull and Ichiro weren’t home yet. Many nights Ichiro stayed away until late, sometimes with a favorite girl and sometimes with his friends in the
boiler room, so they could talk man talk together. Bull said Ichiro liked to talk about politics and the war. Of course, nobody got reliable war news in camp.

Once Sumiko had asked Frank for war news. At the time, he said Japan had expanded into Borneo, Java, and Sumatra. Russian forces were fighting to protect Stalingrad. The Allies were fighting Hitler’s forces in North Africa. War seemed incredibly complicated.

But that all seemed far away as she lay in her cot, cold and exhausted. She fell asleep and woke in the middle of the night. Ichiro was still gone, but Bull lay in bed. Sumiko had no idea what time it was.

“Bull?” Sumiko asked. “Are you awake?”

Bull groaned a bit from his cot; obviously, he’d been asleep. “What is it?” She saw the mist from his mouth dissipate in the air.

She should have let him sleep, but instead she asked, “You won’t join the army, will you, if they let you?”

No one had closed the curtains. Sumiko saw the crescent moon hanging in the window. Several bats crossed the sky.

“I don’t know.” He paused. “I know Ich won’t join.”

“Do you and Ich still like each other?”

He sighed. “Go to sleep, Sumiko.”

But she felt wide awake now. She put on her shoes
and—wrapped in a blanket—ventured outside. The stars were beautiful. Even the desert looked beautiful, but lonely, as she moved through the quiet camp.

When she passed the basketball court, she saw a girl flitting in an amazing fashion across the ground. It was the girl who’d been talking to the Indian player, and she was dancing. The only light came from the moon and a dim bulb outside a latrine. The girl’s feet moved across the court like pebbles skipping across water. She leaped in the air and seemed to catch a breeze as she rose. She twirled, her straight hair swirling around her head. A lot of people thought she was strange. She wanted to be a dancer, but nobody had ever seen her dance, and she never entered any of the talent contests. Watching her, Sumiko knew that the girl had been struck with a type of lightning when she was born. There were people like that in the world.

There was a movement from the shadows, and Sumiko saw an Indian boy looking right at her. He was from the basketball team. His face was happy. Sumiko smiled, and he smiled back. The girl was oblivious. Sumiko slipped away to leave them alone.

27

T
HE NEXT NIGHT WHILE
B
ULL WAS OUTSIDE SMOKING
, Sumiko decided to go talk to him. As she approached him she took smaller and smaller steps. She was taking tiny half steps when she noticed he was looking at her.

Bull laughed. “I keep thinking you’re growing up, but …”

It was a cool evening in early February, but Bull wore just a short-sleeved shirt. The temperature was scarcely warmer inside than out, and Sumiko’s fingers were already cold.

“Bull?”

“Unh.”

“I have a friend.”

“Good.”

“It’s an Indian friend,” she said quickly, and braced for his reaction.

Bull blew a couple of smoke rings into the air, but the rings quickly broke up in the breeze. Finally he said, “A friend is a friend.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Unh.”

“He’s bringing his brother to meet you.”

“They sneak into camp when you meet?”

“No. They never do that. I mean, they were in camp once. I mean, one of them was. Last night, in fact. I don’t know if you’d say he sneaked in exactly. We just walked in, so personally, I wouldn’t use the word
sneak
.”

Bull smiled slightly. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

“And we don’t exactly meet. Sometimes he’s just there.”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean by ‘hmm’?”

“I mean ‘hmm.’” She studied his face and somehow saw that he was just teasing her. He wasn’t smiling, but she could tell.

She laughed. “You’re distracting me! I want to know, will you come meet them?”

“Me? If you want.”

“Good! We’re going to do it tomorrow morning—they’re already expecting you.”

“How can they be expecting me when you just asked me?”

“Because I knew you’d come! We’re leaving at seven in the morning.”

“All right.”

Tak-Tak called her inside then. He lay bundled in bed. “I’m cold!” he said. Though the
Chronicle
had cautioned everyone to be careful with heating devices, Ichiro had made a couple of heaters out of sand placed in cans with charcoal on top. There had been a few household fires in camp already. Some were caused by homemade heaters, and some were caused by the lines people attached to the main electrical wire to get more power into their barracks. Sumiko brought one of their heaters closer and lay on Tak-Tak’s cot with her arms around her brother to keep him warm.

“Sumiko?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Are we orphans?”

“You know we’re not.”

“’Cause my friend said I’m an orphan.”

“I used to think that too,” she said. “But the orphanage is in another camp, in Manzanar. If we were orphans, we’d be there.”

“Sumiko?” he whispered.

“What?” she whispered back.

“Did you kill that boy yesterday?”

“No,” she said, still whispering. “I saw him afterward. He didn’t even need stitches.”

“Was he mad at you?”

“Yes.”

“Is he going to hurt you?”

“No. I said I was sorry,” she said.

“Are you?”

She thought that over. “No.”

“Good. Good night.”

“Good night.”

28

I
T FELT STRANGE TO WALK DOWN THE PATH TO THE RIVER
with Bull. She felt as if she were kind of a tour guide, even though she’d been to the river just once, on Christmas. “I think that big tree is about the halfway mark to the river,” she told Bull.

They arrived first. Sumiko laid out a blanket she’d brought, and she and Bull sat down. She saw Bull all the time, but now she felt sort of shy, but also excited. He looked so strong! She felt proud that he was her cousin.

When Frank and his brother Joseph arrived, Joseph was smoking and Bull had just put a cigarette into his mouth and was looking for matches. Joseph
handed him his cigarette to use for lighting up. Sumiko flashed a bright smile at Frank.

Sumiko thought Frank looked flustered and excited that they were all meeting. She felt the same way. He and Sumiko started talking at the same time, and then they both stopped.

Joseph extended an arm and shook hands with Bull. “Joseph,” he grunted.

“Bull,” Bull grunted.

Joseph gestured toward his brother. “Frank.”

Bull indicated Sumiko. “Sumiko,” he said.

Joseph glanced at Frank and said, “I thought her name was Weedflower.” Sumiko frowned at Frank, but he ignored her.

Joseph was tall and slender, maybe a little younger than Ichiro. He seemed kind of arrogant and kind of nice—like Frank, except older. Or rather, Frank was like his brother. Sumiko noticed that Frank almost seemed to be studying Joseph.

Frank said, “Joseph is leaving soon for the army.”

“I heard,” said Bull.

Sumiko hit Bull’s arm. “Don’t tell him everything I said!” She glanced at Joseph. “Not that I said anything.”

Bull just shrugged at Joseph.

Joseph studied Sumiko seriously, then suddenly seemed amused. “So you’re our little enemy girl,” he said. His eyes drifted down to her sweater.
It was Bull’s and was about ten thousand sizes too big.

“It’s Bull’s,” she said.

Everybody looked blankly at her. “What’s Bull’s?” Frank finally said.

“Oh. My sweater … I mean Bull’s sweater.”

Frank turned to Joseph. “She means she’s wearing Bull’s sweater,‣ he said, as if she spoke a different language.

Sumiko and Frank met eyes, and for some reason both broke out in giggles. Bull and Joseph shrugged at each other.

“Let’s sit down!” Sumiko suggested brightly.

They all sat down on the blanket. Frank seemed eager for everybody to get along. He looked attentively back and forth among all of them.

Joseph spoke directly to Bull. “When I get back, I plan to farm. I heard you’re an expert farmer.”

“Bull’s a great farmer!” Sumiko said. “He’s kind of a genius when it comes to farming.”

Bull said only, “We had a small flower farm.”

Joseph nodded. He started to say something, stopped to draw on his cigarette, and then said, “I don’t know if you realize it, but the tribal council voted against having the camp here.”

“Is that so?” Bull said. Even when he didn’t make expressions, Sumiko usually knew what Bull was thinking. Now she had no idea.

“The federal government put it here anyway,” Joseph said. “Why do they ask us for our opinion if they don’t care what we say?”

Sumiko said tentatively “Because it’s a democracy?”

Joseph laughed, but not in a friendly way. Bull wrinkled the area between his eyes.

Sumiko felt her face grow hot. “It is a democracy,” she insisted. “Everybody gets a vote.”

Joseph didn’t laugh this time. He met eyes with Frank.

Then Frank told her, “It’s against the law for Indians to vote.”

“Are you sure?” Sumiko said, and immediately felt stupid for asking. It was just that in school a long time ago the class had learned that all grown-ups born in the United States could vote.

“How come you can’t vote?” Bull asked.

Joseph nodded at Frank, apparently to indicate that Frank should answer. Sumiko thought Frank looked proud that his brother wanted him to explain. “Indians were declared citizens by the U.S. government in 1924, but the states decide individually who can vote or not. Arizona doesn’t allow it.” Frank turned to his brother as if for approval; Joseph nodded.

“I don’t want to vote anyway,” Sumiko said.

There was a silence. Bull said gently, “Still, they should have the right, Sumi-chan.” Sumiko lowered her head and felt her face heat up again.

She was glad when Frank changed the subject by abruptly announcing, “She eats snakes!”

Sumiko laughed. “It’s tasty with ginger! You can also put
shoyu
on it or dry it and salt it. My neighbor Mr. Moto says it’s very versatile. I ate it for the first time the day I arrived in camp.”

Joseph made a gesture exactly like Sumiko had seen Frank make: He shook his head as if to clear out the illogic she was putting there. Now she knew where Frank had gotten the gesture. “She likes to talk,” Joseph said to Frank. But he smiled when he said it. Then he turned to Bull and said, “I have some questions about the irrigation and your farm if you don’t mind.”

The men walked down to the river and disappeared in the reeds. Frank seemed delighted, childlike in a way Sumiko hadn’t seen him before. He kept looking starry-eyed toward the river where his brother had gone. “Joseph and my other brother, Henry, are the two smartest men I know. When they come back, they’re going to help make sure the whole reservation gets irrigated,” he told her.