What happens when a war comes between a girl and her dog?
The moving story of a Japanese-American girl who is separated from her dog upon being sent to an incarceration camp during WWII.
Although Mitsi Kashino and her family are swept up in the wave of anti-Japanese sentiment following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Mitsi never expects to lose her home — or her beloved dog, Dash. But, as World War II rages and people of Japanese descent are forced into incarceration camps, Mitsi is separated from Dash, her classmates, and life as she knows it. The camp is a crowded and unfamiliar place, whose dusty floors, seemingly endless lines, and barbed wire fences begin to unravel the strong Kashino family ties. With the help of a friendly neighbor back home, Mitsi remains connected to Dash in spite of the hard times, holding on to the hope that the war will end soon and life will return to normal. Though they’ve lost their home, will the Kashino family also lose their sense of family? And will Mitsi and Dash ever be reunited?
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★ As she did in Duke (2013), Larson centers this trenchant novel on a child dealing with hardships on the home front during WWII, including separation from a beloved dog. Inspired by real-life wartime events, the novel vividly communicates the emotional and physical ordeals endured by Japanese-Americans evacuated to relocation camps after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. A pall descends early in the story, as 11-year-old Mitsi Kashino contends with classmates’ slurs and snubs, including some from her two best friends. After learning of her family’s impending relocation, Mitsi is devastated to discover that her one steadfast ally, her dog Dash, cannot accompany them. Asking a neighbor to take care of Dash, “Mitsi thought she had cried out all her tears, but a couple more leaked out.” Reprising the narrative conceit used in Duke, Larson incorporates correspondence between the girl and Dash, whose letters are the work of a surprising ghostwriter. Despite the hurdles Mitsi faces, hope, resourcefulness, and a new friend help this relatable heroine triumph.
★ Eleven-year-old Mitsi Kashino and her family are forced to move to a Japanese internment camp following the attack on Pearl Harbor.The Japanese-Americans are forced to leave their homes, their jobs, and all but what they can carry. Unfortunately for Mitsi, this also means leaving her beloved dog, Dash, behind. Thankfully, a good-hearted neighbor agrees to take Dash in. The neighbor writes letters to Mitsi, composing them from Dash’s point of view, and these keep Mitsi connected with the world beyond the fence. Overcrowded living quarters, long lines and minimal resources stretch the patience of the internees and threaten the bonds of the Kashino family. However, even amid their incarceration, there are spots of hope. Mitsi and her family find new friendships, rediscover old traditions and reinvent their lives. Through it all, Mitsi holds tight to her dream of the end of the war and her reunion with Dash. Larson makes this terrible event in American history personal with the story of one girl and her beloved pet. Spot-on dialogue, careful cultural details and the inclusion of specific historical characters such as artist Eddie Sato make this an educational read as well as a heartwarming one. An author’s note adds further authenticity.
This emotionally satisfying and thought-provoking book will have readers pulling for Mitsi and Dash.
Gr 3–6—After Pearl Harbor, life changes for fifth grader Mitzi Kashino and her family, as it did for all Japanese American citizens across the US during that time. Family and friends are shunned, bullied, fingerprinted, and even incarcerated for visiting Japan. Relocation from Seattle, WA to Camp Harmony, and ultimately to Minidoka, ID, causes the loss of jobs, school, homes, cars, and personal possessions. Pets were not allowed in the camps, and this is where Mitzi’s dog Dash becomes the linchpin in Larson’s story. Recognizing the injustice, neighbor Mrs. Bowker does not hesitate to foster Dash for the Kashino family, and she regularly sends letters “from” Dash to Mitzi. The other interned residents anticipate news from the dog, which effectively lifts spirits and encourages a sense of community. Although not as detailed as Winifred Conkling’s Sylvia and Aki (Tricycle Press, 2011), both titles complement one another as fictionalized stories of actual events, and share the theme of courage and dignity in the face of injustice. Dash fills a niche between picture books like The Bracelet by Uchida Yoshiko (Penguin, 1993) and Barbed Wire Baseball by Marissa Moss (Abrams, 2013) and works for older audiences such as Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata (S. & S., 2006) and Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston (Houghton Mifflin, 1973). Larson’s latest is historical fiction at its best.—Sharon Lawler, Texas Bluebonnet Award Committee
After reading Kirby Larson’s Duke last summer I was excited to pick up an ARC of Dash at the BEA conference last week. For two days I have been caught up in the world of Mitsi Kashino and her family following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Mitsi’s world previously was a happy one with a loving family, good neighbors and close friends. But that all changed when Japanese immigrants and Japanese Americans were forced to move to War Relocation camps. While the story of Relocation camps is not new to me, what was new was seeing this history through the eyes of a young girl who was trying to make sense of why her culture was suddenly treated so differently. Making the departure from home even more difficult was the fact that Mitsi was not permitted to take her beloved dog, Dash. While the camp conditions were terrible and almost inhumane, the story is softened by the strength of the characters. Mitsi’s father learned to make furniture out of wood scraps (their rooms had only beds for furniture), her grandmother bonded with the “dried-plum ladies”, and her mother found ways to help other families in the camp. The letters she received from “Dash”, written by the neighbor caring for him, buoyed Mitsi’s spirits. The letters show a kind woman with a sense of humor who knew just what Mitsi needed to hear. The author’s note at the end was a great surprise to this heart-felt historical fiction story. This book will entice young readers to research the history of Relocation camps and how Japanese Americans fared during this time period.
Mitsi is happy with her life in Seattle, with her family, her friends, her teacher, and, most of all, her white dog, Dash. But after Pearl Harbor is bombed, life takes a turn for Mitsi’s Japanese American family, and they are forced to leave everything they know for an internment camp, including one special member of the household—Dash the dog. This heartfelt story brings close what a girl like Mitsi would have experienced—the loss of friendships, dizzying change, and fear of the future. But for Mitsi, perhaps the hardest thing to bear is missing Dash. Fortunately, a kind neighbor agrees to take him in, and soon she is receiving letters “from him” that brighten her world. Based on a true story of a girl who had to leave her dog, this book helps readers understand the hardship that Japanese American citizens endured while at the same time offers a story of one girl with relatable hopes and worries. What also comes through is how a strong family can pull together in the worst of circumstances.
Two-second recap:Dash is a thoughtful, heartbreaking tale of Mitsi, a young girl who deals with being sent away and separated from a beloved four-legged friend in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor.
Synopsis via Goodreads:
New from Newbery Honor author Kirby Larson, the moving story of a Japanese-American girl who is separated from her dog upon being sent to an incarceration camp during WWII.
Although Mitsi Kashino and her family are swept up in the wave of anti-Japanese sentiment following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Mitsi never expects to lose her home — or her beloved dog, Dash. But, as World War II rages and people of Japanese descent are forced into incarceration camps, Mitsi is separated from Dash, her classmates, and life as she knows it. The camp is a crowded and unfamiliar place, whose dusty floors, seemingly endless lines, and barbed wire fences begin to unravel the strong Kashino family ties. With the help of a friendly neighbor back home, Mitsi remains connected to Dash in spite of the hard times, holding on to the hope that the war will end soon and life will return to normal. Though they’ve lost their home, will the Kashino family also lose their sense of family? And will Mitsi and Dash ever be reunited?
Full review:
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m often blown away at the depth and profundity that MG literature can offer its readers. Dash is a touching story by Kirby Larson that discusses racism and adversity from a real point in American history, while also gently reminding readers of how love – especially if it comes in the form of a fluffy, four-legged best friend – can make even the most difficult moments, bearable.
Mitsi is an eleven-year-old girl living in Seattle in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor. Even though she feels like life should go on as normal, most of her community doesn’t agree. Friends stop talking to Mitsi; she’s harassed by random teenagers on the street, and her family quickly begins experiencing the ramifications of a country that is being swept by a wave of anti-Japanese resentment.
In the midst of all of this chaos, Mitsi finds comfort in Dash, her loyal dog and best friend. However, Mitsi soon learns that she must be parted from Dash as well, when she and her family are ordered to report to an internment camp.
There have been many books written about the internment/relocation camps that Japanese-Americans experienced during WWII, but Larson brings a fresh perspective to the genre by offering a look from young girl’s perspective, who is confused over why her culture is now suddenly being treated differently.
Larson does an exceptionally fine job of showing the rapid shift in public opinion after December 7th 1941, while also making it a point to include how many Japanese-American families – Mitsi’s own parents included – struggle with trying to show that they remain loyal to a country that no longer trusts them.
Readers will undoubtedly be moved (and equally frustrated) by how Mitsi and her family gradually have everything they love and care about – e.g. friends, school, jobs, Dash and even their home – stripped away from them, before they’re sent away to an internment camp.
But even as it seems like Mitsi continues to suffer indignity after indignity, Larson also doesn’t let her young heroine wallow in the depths of despair. Mitsi is able to find the silver lining to every cloud, including making friends with a kind neighbor who agrees to take Dash in, or thinking of ingenious ways to keep herself occupied – especially when it comes to sharing good news about Dash – while inside the camp.
There’s an underlying reminder of the positivity and strength of the human spirit in Mitsi’s actions – especially near the end- which will undoubtedly move readers.
Of special note: Larson handles the racism that Mitsi experiences in a manner that is both straightforward and thought-provoking. She doesn’t hesitate from showing just how ugly some of the racist experiences could be – at one point, Mitsi is chased and heckled by a group of young men, who physically attack her belongings.
But at the same time, Larson is also careful to balance the ugliness of those experiences with examples of the kinder and softer side of humanity. Mitsi’s new neighbor Mrs. Bowker, openly shares her regrets and misgivings on how her German neighbors were treated during World War I. She explicitly states that she wishes she had the courage to have spoken up or acted at the time and it’s touching to see how Mrs. Bowker takes that lesson to heart, when it comes to Mitsi’s well-being.
This is a strong reminder of the courage and hope that individuals can bring to others with simple actions, and it’s also a reminder that it’s never too late to learn from one’s own misgivings and act differently in the future. This made a strong impact on me, and I can only imagine the impact that this will have on other readers as well.
Final verdict:
Dash is an incredibly special book, with a wonderful, thoughtful message on what it means to focus on optimism and unrelenting hope in the face of very difficult odds.
Mitsi’s courage in leaving home and separating herself from Dash, especially as she continues to face down some of the most difficult aspects of humanity, is something that I think any reader will admire. Readers will also likely be heartened by the kindness shown to Mitsi by her community members, who are unwilling to let public opinion dictate how and whom they choose to love.
I recommend this for fans of Duke – naturally!- but also for readers who are supporters of the #WeNeedDiverseBooks campaign. Dash is exactly the type of diverse book that is needed, and I can only hope that Kirby Larson will write more of them.
- Scott O’Dell Historical Fiction Award
- Capitol Choices Nomination
- Horned Toad Tales Award
- Nebraska Golden Sowers Award
- NAPPA Gold Award
- South Carolina Young Reader’s Choice Award
- CBC Hot off the Press Featured Book
- BEA Galleys to Grab
- 6 State Young Readers Choice Nominations
Chapter One – Slanty Eyes
Mitsi Kashino packed her sketch pad, her binder and her worry in her book bag. Dash hopped on the bed, sniffing the straps before flattening himself on top of it. Muzzle resting on his front paws, he watched Mitsi with worried brown eyes.
“I wish I could tuck you inside.” She ruffled the scruffy white fur on his head. Dash had no idea that Christmas vacation was over, that it was time for Mitsi to go back to school. She lifted a blue headband from her dresser, and paused in front of the mirror before slipping it over her straight black hair. Things might be better, now that more time had passed. Maybe there’d be an end to the mean notes in her desk and funny looks in the hall. Maybe school could be back to normal, even if nothing else was.
Mitsi wrestled her book bag out from under Dash, whose tail wagged hopefully. Mitsi picked him up, rubbing her cheek against his fur, soft as a baby blanket. “It’ll be fine, won’t it?”
Dash licked her chin. “Thanks, buddy.” She squeezed him again, then put him on the floor. “You stay, now.” She motioned with her hand. “I’ll see you later.”
Ted left for school before her, so Mitsi slipped out the front door by herself, blocking her ears to Dash’s whimpers. With book bag and umbrella in hand, she raced down the front steps. She didn’t want to be late meeting Mags and Judy. They always went away for the holidays — Mags to her grandma’s and Judy to her aunt and uncle’s –so it had been two whole weeks since they’d seen one another. Usually they were inseparable, like Betsy, Tacy and Tib in those books. Mitsi didn’t even know what her friends had gotten for Christmas! She couldn’t wait to tell them what she’d found under her tree: a brand new sketch pad and a box of chalk pastels. The kind real artists use. Mitsi had spent hours on the pictures tucked in her sketchpad. There were several of Dash – one of him curled up on her bed. One of him watching Mom cook, waiting for some bit of food to drop. And one of him dancing in a circle, begging for a treat. She’d also drawn a couple of dragons to match the stories Mags was always writing. Mags would get a kick out of those.
Mitsi ran the last half block to the meet-up bench on Jackson Street. She plunked down on the slatted seat, scrunching her shoulders up toward her ears against the weather. Despite the chill, it warmed her to think how much Judy and Mags would like her drawings. She swung her legs back and forth to warm up. They should be here any minute now. At breakfast, Pop had said there might be a little snow this week. Mitsi buttoned the top button on her coat.
“Konnichi wa!” Mrs. Kusakabe called from across the street.
Mitsi called hello back to her elderly neighbor.
Mrs. Kusakabe leaned on her cane. “Poor Dash will be lonely with you gone all day.”
“He’ll be okay.” Mitsi tried not to think about those sad brown eyes.
“Study hard now.” With a wave, Mrs. Kusakabe hobbled inside Cheeky’s Cafe for her breakfast. Mitsi swung her legs faster. If Judy and Mags didn’t hurry up, they’d all be tardy. She blew into her cupped hands. She’d been in such a rush, she’d forgotten to grab her mittens.
Too cold to sit any longer, Mitsi marched around the bench—one, two, three laps—stomping hard to warm up her feet. Her nose began to run. Where were they?
Eight, nine, ten laps. She paced to the curb and leaned out into the street, looking left and right. She blew on her hands again, trying not to worry. There’d been a bad cold going around. Maybe Mags and Judy had caught it. She checked the time on the big clock outside Higo Variety Store. If she didn’t scoot, now, she’d be tardy for sure. After one last glance in each direction, Mitsi bolted toward school, arriving seconds before the Pledge of Allegiance. As she stood with her classmates, she caught sight of Mags’s red curls and Judy’s blonde pageboy. They weren’t absent after all. But why hadn’t they been at the bench? Now, she’d have to wait until first recess to find out.
Miss Wyatt picked up a basket from her desk. “I have a little New Year’s gift for each of you. Patty, you’re the room monitor this week. Would you please pass these out?”
Mitsi leaned forward, nearly out of her seat trying to see what was in the basket.
Roy Biddle reached in first. “A pencil.” He wiggled it between his fingers.
“A fresh pencil for a fresh start in the new year.” Miss Wyatt beamed.
“Oh.” Roy put it in the pencil tray on his desk. He said thanks, but he didn’t sound all that thankful.
Patty handed one to Judy and then Hudson Young. She worked her way down Mitsi’s row. When Patty got to Eddie Munson’s desk, right in front of her, Mitsi held out her hand, ready for her pencil. But Patty brushed right by.
“Hey, you forgot me,” Mitsi said.
Patty turned back. “Oh. Sor-ry.” She held out a pencil. It dropped before Mitsi could take it. “Oops.” Patty continued passing out pencils.
“She did that on purpose,” Grace Arai whispered.
Mitsi shrugged.
“Did everyone get a pencil?” asked Miss Wyatt. Patty showed her the empty basket. “Good. Let’s pull out our arithmetic books.” Miss Wyatt offered up a piece of chalk. “Who would like to solve problem number one?” Several hands shot up.
Spelling followed arithmetic. Ten sentences using this week’s spelling list. As Mitsi was writing a sentence for word number eight, behavior — “The behavior of some people is not very nice.” — the recess bell finally rang. She grabbed her sketch pad and hopped up.
“Oh, Mitsi,” Miss Wyatt called. “Would you wait a moment, please?” Mitsi glanced over her shoulder. Judy and Mags rushed to the cloakroom with the rest of the class to grab coats and jackets.
She edged to the doorway, ready to dash herself as soon as her teacher was done speaking with her.
“Come here, dear.” Miss Wyatt waved her closer.
Mitsi held back a sigh of exasperation. She’d already waited so long to show Judy and Mags her drawings. But she stepped toward.
“I am going to be speaking to all the. . .,” Miss Wyatt cleared her throat. “But I wanted to speak to you first.” She leaned forward. “Things must be very confusing for you right now.”
How did Miss Wyatt know about Judy and Mags? Mitsi nodded.
“We’re all still part of the same school family, all part of the same community,” Miss Wyatt continued. “No matter what happens in the world, nothing can change that.”
Mitsi’s stomach knotted. This was about that terrible day.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Miss Wyatt’s hazel eyes brimmed with kindness.
Mitsi nodded again. Anything to escape.
“That’s fine, then.” Miss Wyatt smiled. “Go on out and play.”
Cheeks burning, Mitsi ran outside, straight to the old maple tree where she and Judy and Mags always played jacks.
“Is it too late to get in the game?” Mitsi asked.
“Jacks is for babies.” Patty had pushed her way to the spot between Judy and Mags. Sitting where Mitsi always sat. She opened a small blue autograph book. They were the newest fad. Some of the sixth grade girls already had them. But Patty was the first fifth grader.
“I’m even going to ask Miss Wyatt to sign it.” Patty handed Judy a fountain pen.
“I’ve never written in one of these before.” Judy chewed on her lip. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I know one. It’s what my brother writes when the junior high girls ask him to sign their books.” Mags jumped up to recite. “The mother put the kid to bed because it wouldn’t mind. But when he left I saw he had a little bear behind.” She cracked up.
“Mags!” Judy looked horrified.
Mitsi thought it was pretty funny, too. She could see Mags’ brother writing that. He was a real card. She thought about what she would sign. Maybe she’d flip to one of the blue pages and write, “I hope you are never the color of this page.” She’d heard that in a movie.
Judy leaned over the autograph book, turned to a pink page and began to write.
“What’s it say?” Mags tried to read upside down.
“Make new friends, but keep the old,” Judy read. “One is silver and the other gold.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Patty took the book from Judy and held it out to Mags. “Your turn.”
“Something nice.” Judy leaned over Mags’s shoulder.
The pen moved across the page in Mags’s loopy style. “There.” Mags put the cap back on the pen.
“Let me see.” Patty grabbed the book when Mags was finished and read aloud. “When twilight draws her curtains, and pins them with a star, remember me your friend dear Patty, though you may wander far.” She nodded, then slapped the book shut. “I’m going to go ask Cindy to sign it now.”
“I thought of something,” Mitsi said.
Patty stood up. “Come on, you two.”
“I’d like to write an autograph,” Mitsi said.
Patty glared at her. “You can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” Mitsi shifted her sketch pad to her other arm. “What’s going on?”
A funny look flashed over Mags’s face. It reminded Mitsi of Dash’s expression when he got caught chewing on Pop’s socks. Judy didn’t meet Mitsi’s gaze at all. And neither of them said a word. Not to Patty. Not to her.
“Cindy! Cindy!” Patty flounced off. Judy grabbed Mags’s arm and they followed.
Mitsi stood there, shivering and all alone. What were her friends doing? What was going on? She wished she had packed Dash in her book bag. What happened on December seventh hadn’t changed the way he felt about Mitsi. Not one whit. Why couldn’t it be the same for people?
At lunchtime, the cafeteria lady set a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy on Mitsi’s tray. “Pudding or jello?” she asked. Mitsi pointed to a cup of tapioca with a maraschino cherry plopped on top. She paid for lunch, then hesitated. She’d never had to think about where to sit before. She and Mags and Judy had a favorite joke: no matter what was on the menu, the three of them always had a Mitsi sandwich for lunch, with Mitsi right between her two best friends.
Mags caught Mitsi’s eye and smiled her regular gap-toothed Mags smile, deeply dimpled and wide. Relieved, Mitsi headed toward their table.
For the second time that day, Patty Tibbets beat her out, settling herself on a stool.
“Uh, that’s where Mitsi sits,” Mags said.
“I was here first.” Patty popped the lid off her milk bottle.
Mags leaned forward, glancing down the table at Judy.
Judy blinked hard. But she didn’t tell Patty to move.
Patty pointed across the room to the table where Kenji Hayashi, Grace Arai and some of the other kids from Mitsi’s neighborhood were sitting. “You belong over there.”
Mitsi stared at her two best friends. “But this is our table.”
Judy squirted ketchup on her meatloaf. Mags concentrated on unwrapping her straw.
Patty put a pointer finger at the outer corner of each of her blue eyes. She pushed her eyelids up into slants and mouthed something that turned Mitsi’s stomach. “Jap.” The word slapped Mitsi back to that horrible Sunday.
Her whole family had been in the living room, listening to the New York Philharmonic on the radio after church. Mitsi and Pop were reading the funnies aloud to each other. It was Mitsi’s turn to read Dick Tracy but an announcer cut into the music.
“Hush a minute.” Pop signaled Ted to turn up the volume.
“The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor,” the announcer said.
“Oh, no!” Mom pressed her apron hem to her mouth. Pop grabbed the back of his neck with his hands. Ted shook his head, no-no-no. Obaachan rocked. Even Dash froze, ears perked, listening.
Crazy words ricocheted around the living room, words about Japanese planes flying out of nowhere, dropping bombs, destroying planes, sinking ships. The West Virginia, the Oklahoma, the Arizona. So many ships.
“All those soldiers. All those boys,” Mom had sobbed. The next morning, the F.B.I. had swept through Nihonmachi, Japantown, arresting dozens of businessmen, including their neighbor, Mr. Iseri.
That night, someone threw a rock through the plate glass windows at the Arai’s grocery store. Right away the newspapers stopped using the word “Japanese” and started using “Jap.” When the neighbors burned their Japanese books, Mom decided they should, too. Even those that had belonged to Obaachan’s grandfather. The rice paper crackled in the burn barrel, as snakes of black smoke slithered into the gray December sky. Obaachan had said, “Shikata ga nai. It cannot be helped.” But Mom cried as she tossed book after book into the flames.
Now, in the lunchroom, Mitsi fought back tears, too.
She wanted to say, “I was born here in Seattle. At Swedish Hospital, just like you, Mags.” She wanted to say, “I have brown eyes, just like you, Judy.” She wanted to say, “I have never even been to Japan.” But these were things she shouldn’t have to say. Not to Judy and Mags. Not to friends.
Her lunch tray felt as heavy as her heart. Somehow, she made it across the room. Somehow, she slid onto the bench next to Grace. Somehow, she made it through lunch. And, somehow, she managed to do it without tears.
Right before the last bell, Miss Wyatt handed back their Expert Reports. Mitsi had titled hers “Dogs: Everyone’s Best Friend.” An A+ stood at attention at the top of her report, in Miss Wyatt’s special green ink. Mitsi glanced across the aisle. Patty’s paper earned a fat green C. Good.
Mitsi put her A+ report in her book bag. “What are you doing after school?” she asked Mags.
Mags took a long time buckling her galoshes. “Nothing,” she said.
Judy scooted past, so close that one of her braids brushed Mitsi’s shoulder. Mitsi grabbed it and gave it a playful tug.
Judy stared at her as if she was a swamp monster from that scary movie they’d seen. Patty grabbed Judy’s arm. “Come on.” And Judy went. As if every day since first grade, she and Mags and Mitsi hadn’t walked home from school together, to the corner of 6th and Jackson, where they headed north and Mitsi headed south.
She reached for the red umbrella Ted had given her for Christmas. Red to match Dash’s collar. She tucked it under her arm, trying to tune out Patty’s loud voice.
“Do you want to go to the show this weekend?” she was asking.
Mitsi couldn’t hear the answer but of course Mags and Judy said yes. Mr. Tibbets owned the Atlas Theater and Patty got all the free Milk Duds she wanted.
Under skies as damp as her eyes, Mitsi put up her new umbrella and started for home. What was going on with her friends? It was like they’d caught amnesia or something. Or had fallen under an evil spell. What other reason could there be for them to snub her? Judy and Mags had never even liked Patty! And now they were acting all cozy, like the three of them were Betsy, Tacy and Tib. It couldn’t just be for the free candy. Mags didn’t even like Milk Duds.
Mitsi stepped over a puddle. It used to be that her friends thought Japanese things were nifty, like Obaachan’s kimonos and celebrating Hina Matsuri, Girls’ Day. Last year, Judy and Mags had come over before the party to help Mitsi and Mom make the rice-balls. Now her own friends were taking sides against her, becoming part of that awful hate-the-Japanese storm raging across the country. There wasn’t a red umbrella big enough to shield Mitsi from that kind of rain.
A few blocks from home, she passed some junior high boys, hanging out in front of the Jackson Ten Cent Store, pretending to smoke candy cigarettes. “Hey!” One of them called out to her.
Mitsi looked over but didn’t answer. She kept walking.
The boys followed.
She walked faster.
They walked faster.
Mitsi ran. They ran.
Right in front of the Nelson’s old house, Mitsi tripped and fell. Her book bag went flying. A boy in a plaid jacket snatched it up and yanked out Mitsi’s report. “Aww. Iddin dat that sweet? A paper about doggies.” He ripped it into shreds and tossed them into the air. “Look, it’s snowing!”
A scrap with Miss Wyatt’s green ink words — “Another fine job, Mitsi.” — landed on Mitsi’s coat. The boy dumped the book bag out on the soggy ground.
A second boy kicked her books into a puddle. All of them. Even her new sketch pad.
Mitsi pushed herself up off the sidewalk. Both of her knees stung. Blood oozed around the edges of the ragged holes in her stockings. Tears boiled at the back of her eyes.
“Serves you right.” The boy in the plaid jacket glared. He and his buddies formed a ring around her. “Remember Pearl Harbor, remember Pearl Harbor,” they chanted.
Mitsi turned around on wobbly legs. She had to get out. She tried to duck under their linked arms but the boys bounced her back to the center of the circle like she was a beach ball. The sour taste of fear hit the back of her throat. There were too many of them.
“OWWWWW!” The boy in the plaid jacket jumped back, holding his head. “What the–?” Beyond the boys, an old lady wearing big black rubber boots was swinging a broom. “Shame on you.”
“We were just kidding around,” said one of the boys.
“What are you? A Jap lover?” asked another.
The lady lifted the broom handle to her shoulder, like a baseball bat, ready to swing again. For an old lady, she looked strong.
The circle fell apart.
She stamped a rubber-booted foot. “Now get on home. Before I call your mothers.”
The boy who’d gotten the clop on the head stood there a minute, rubbing it. “Aww, let’s get out of here, guys.” He ambled down the street, with the others on his heels.
The old lady leaned her broom against the fence. “Hooligans.” She wiped off the sketch pad with a flowered apron that was tied over her coat. “Let it dry, then put it under something heavy. That will iron out most of the wrinkles.” She stepped closer, holding it out to Mitsi. “Oh, my. Look at your knee.”
Mitsi didn’t want to look. She just wanted to get home. “It’s okay.” She took the pad.
The lady gathered up the rest of Mitsi’s things. Mitsi brushed off her book bag and held it open. The lady dropped everything inside. She picked up some scraps of Mitsi’s report.
“Dogs.” She smiled, looking at the title. “I love them but don’t have one.”
“I do.” Mitsi buckled the straps on her book bag. “Dash.”
The lady nodded. “Good name for a dog. Speaking of names, mine is Mrs. Bowker.”
Mitsi told Mrs. Bowker her name, too.
“Well, isn’t that pretty? Suits you to a T.” Mrs. Bowker patted Mitsi’s shoulder. “You best get on home before your mother worries.” She picked up her broom again. “I’ll watch while you walk the rest of the way.”
Mitsi slipped her book bag straps over her shoulders. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Bowker was right. The papers would dry. And putting them under something heavy would smooth out the wrinkles. She’d done that before.
But wrinkles like Judy and Mags and looking like the enemy? Mitsi had no idea how to iron those out.
Densho is an organization dedicated to recording the oral histories of those incarcerated in the War Relocation Camps during WWII.
- The real Mitsi with her dog, Chubby.
- One image, showing what it was like to be behind barbed wire in the camps, from the Bainbridge Island Japanese American Exclusion Memorial.
- Kirby with two friends separated by the incarceration of people of Japanese descent; now reunited.