Born to Fly (14 page)

“Do you recognize this, Mr. Fu-jita?”

Everyone in the courtroom knew what it was.

“It is flag of Japan,” Uncle Tomo said.

That was when I saw Uncle Tomo’s attorney, Mr. Wylie, take a drink of water and wink at Mr. Lashley.

“According to the police report, this flag was found in your home,” Mr. Lashley said. “Who does it belong to?”

Uncle Tomo paused and looked over at the jury. He held his head up. “It is mine.” His answer set off grumbles throughout the gallery. Then Uncle Tomo added, “But I have American flag, too.”

The DA scoffed, pretending he didn’t hear the last part.

So he had a Japanese flag? So what? He grew up in Japan. His parents and grandparents lived in Japan. But he hadn’t been back there for years. If I moved to some faraway country, maybe I’d keep an American flag to remind me of my old country, too.

“Mr. Fu-jita, how long have you lived in our country?”

“I here twenty years.”

“That’s a long time. Are you a citizen of this country?” asked the DA.

“No.” Uncle Tomo got a sad look on his face. His head dropped a little. “Not allowed.”

“Really?” Mr. Lashley smiled and shook his head like
he was saying “shame on you” to a child. “And why is that?”

“Japanese not allowed,” Uncle Tomo said. “Unless born here, like my nephew.”

There was some mumbling of surprise in the crowd. In the row behind me in the balcony, Mr. Ramponi stood up. “That not right. I no born here. I become citizen.”

Judge Dickens pounded his gavel. “Sit down, Mr. Ramponi. This is not a town meeting.”

Uncle Tomo tried to explain. “I come from another country. Just like men who started America.”

“You dare to compare yourself to the patriots who fought and died for this country?” The DA lurched toward the witness box. “Especially after what your people pulled at Pearl Harbor!”

“Mr. Lashley—” The judge tried to slow him down, but Minnie’s dad was blowing smoke like a runaway train.

“You have no loyalty to this country. You’d sell us out for thirty pieces of silver and a bowl of rice,” Mr. Lashley said, shaking his finger at Uncle Tomo. “And that’s exactly what you did when you killed Mr. Peck and blew up the factory, isn’t it? Isn’t it!”

“Mr. Lashley, that’s enough!” Judge Dickens said.

Mr. Lashley moved to the jury box. “Mr. Fu-jita. Just answer one simple question. Do you want the United States to win this war? Do you want the United States to defeat Japan?”

The courtroom fell silent. For a long time, Uncle Tomo
didn’t say anything. At last he shook his head, like he knew it was the wrong answer but it was the only one he could give. “No,” he said.

“And that’s why you sabotaged our airplane factory, isn’t it!” barked the DA, inciting the crowd.

Judge Dickens pounded his gavel some more, but the crowd had already started to taunt and jeer Uncle Tomo: “Traitor!” “Murderer!”

“Order. Order!” said the judge.

Uncle Tomo seemed heartbroken. For a moment I thought he might even cry. But he didn’t. He just looked at Kenji across the room and said, “War is wrong. For every country.”

I had lucked out. They hadn’t called me to the stand. Uncle Tomo’s testimony had gone badly, but they hadn’t shown one bit of proof that he’d killed Mr. Peck. As for the sabotage, the only witness was Farley, and you’d have to be a complete dope to believe anything he said. Everything was gonna be all right. Dad was coming home in a few days and he’d straighten it all out.

I waited for Kenji outside the courthouse for twenty minutes, but he didn’t come out. Instead, it was Mr. Wylie who excused himself from talking to the reporters and approached me and my mom.

“Mrs. McGill, I’m going to call Bird to the stand tomorrow.”

“Why?” I protested. “I don’t know anything.”

“The boy, Kenji, believes you do,” Mr. Wylie said.

“Is that really necessary, Mr. Wylie?” my mom asked.

“Probably not. But I’d be risking a mistrial if I didn’t pursue every possibility, no matter how ridiculous. We all want this thing over and done with as quickly as possible. Best thing for the town. I just wanted you to be prepared. See you tomorrow.”

Once he was gone, Mom got real serious. “Bird. That man Mr. Fujita is on trial for his life. If you know something, you have to tell the truth.”

I didn’t say anything.

That night, Mom let me go visit Kenji in his room at the police station. It was really just the spare jail cell, but he had decorated it with his movie posters and stuff, so I guess it wasn’t so bad. The only other time I had ever been in the jail was in third grade, when we went on a field trip to the police station. That time, there was a man in the cell trying to sleep when we came in. He was curled up on the bench, facing the wall. It was like when you see the lions or monkeys at the zoo, and all the kids make animal sounds and toss peanuts to get them to react, but all the animals want to do is lie there and pretend they’re not being stared at all day. The kids kept bugging the man in jail, asking questions like “Do they let you go to the bathroom?” and “Why are you in jail? Did you kill someone?” The man finally got fed up and said it was because he got too drunk on Saturday night and punched somebody who kept asking him stupid questions.

Kenji hadn’t gotten drunk or punched anybody, but there he was, in jail. It might have been, like the deputy said, to protect him, but any way you looked at it, he was still stuck in a cage like some animal at the zoo.

“You have to tell them who you saw, Bird,” Kenji said.

“Shhh,”
I said. I looked through the cell bars and saw Deputy Steyer lift his head from his desk. I motioned for Kenji to lower his voice so the deputy couldn’t hear.

“You don’t understand. I don’t know who it is,” I whispered.

“But you know it wasn’t my uncle,” he said.

“Yeah. But it’s more complicated than that,” I told him.

“Can’t you tell your mom?” he asked.

I shook my head. “She never believes me.”

“Bird, if you don’t tell someone, they’re going to send him to jail,” Kenji said.

I wracked my brain for some kind of solution. Even if I testified about the man in black, since I didn’t know who he was, there was no way to prove any of what I said. They might think I just made it up to help Kenji. And the man in black would know I squealed, and so he would have to kill my family. Any way you sliced it, I was still just an eleven-year-old girl who everyone thought was nuts.

“I keep thinking, if somebody really smart, like the Green Hornet, was in this situation, what would he do?” I said.

“He wouldn’t leave his best friend Kato hanging out to dry,” Kenji said.

My eyes wandered to one of the movie posters on the
wall. It showed Spencer Tracy as Father Flanagan in
Boys Town
. In the movie, Father Flanagan is a priest who is like a father to a bunch of troublemaking orphans who nobody else cares about. He looked so wise and knowing. All of a sudden it hit me. Maybe there
was
someone who would believe me.

It was dark by the time I tiptoed into the church. There was no one around. Even the war widows had finished their rosaries and gone home. Father Krauss was extinguishing the last of the altar candles when he spotted me in the aisle.

“Hello, Bird. I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“It’s about your testimony tomorrow, isn’t it?” he said confidently.

I nodded. “How did you know, Father?”

“Oh, a good shepherd always knows his flock.” He reached up to draw the heavy cloth blackout shades over the stained-glass windows. “Could you help me with these, Bird?”

He tugged on the blinds and the sleeve of his robe slid up his arm. As the church went dark, I noticed something strange on his right forearm. It was a bandage. And it was funny, because it was right about the same place where I had bitten the man in black. My hand began to tremble.

“Wh-what happened to your arm, Father?”

He quickly covered his bandage with his sleeve.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Hooked myself fishing is all,” he said. “Still trying to catch something besides turnips for Sister Marilyn.” His voice echoed throughout the darkness of the church. “Would you prefer to talk in the confessional?”

He moved toward me, his strong hand grasping my arm.

“No,” I said, trying to wriggle away.

“They say it’s good for the soul.”

“I… I just remembered,” I said, fighting free from his grip. “I have to go do something.” I stumbled over myself and when I stepped backwards, I fell down between two of the pews.

“Ow!” I leapt to my feet and tried to run. But my pant leg got caught on the wooden kneeler.

“You’ve hurt yourself. Let me look at it,” Father Krauss said.

“No! No, thanks.” I yanked at my leg.

“Bird.” He leaned down toward me, his black robe blocking out the light.

My pant leg tore loose, and I took off as fast as I could out the church door.

T
he next day I nervously entered the courthouse with my mom. The crowds had grown so big that we were all mashed together like spawning salmon squeezing our way to the courtroom. For a moment, as we weaved through, I lost hold of Mom’s hand. Suddenly, I felt someone shove me in the back, knocking me to the floor. It was Farley Peck, and within seconds he was on top of me with his forearm jammed in my back.

“If you got any birdbrained ideas about c-c-covering for that Jap kid’s uncle,” he whispered in my ear, “remember fires can start anyplace, anytime.”

“Bird.” Mom was there. She knelt down and helped me up.

“She fell,” Farley said, pretending to help dust off my sleeve.

I pulled my arm away from him. “I think I need to use the bathroom,” I told Mom.

“Okay,” she said.

Farley glared at me as we walked away.

Just as I escaped into the bathroom, I saw Mrs. Lashley, Minnie’s big-haired mom, corner my mom.

After splashing some cold water on my face, I shut off the faucet and checked my hair in the mirror. Through the air vent slats in the ladies’ room door, I could hear my mom and Mrs. Lashley talking.

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Lashley whined. “I heard about that business at your house the other night.”

“We’re okay,” said Mom.

“Children. They can be so foolish and reckless sometimes.”

“Yes. I suppose so,” Mom said.

“The Japanese boy seemed harmless enough at first. I suppose she didn’t know better, but then, she’s always been difficult. A bit of an oddball, wouldn’t you say? I mean, a cute girl like her wanting to be called Bird. God bless you, you must have the patience of a saint.”

I was getting ready to leave the ladies’ room when I heard something crinkle as it slid under the door. I spun around
to see a folded, lined piece of paper. It was some kind of note. I picked it up and opened it slowly.

In an instant, I burst out the ladies’ room door and ran smack into the mobs of people who were jamming the courthouse. I searched every face for the eyes, those dark, empty shark eyes.

Suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Ahhh!” I screamed.

“Are you all right?” Father Krauss said. “You seemed a little strange last night.”

I remembered his bandaged arm and tried not to scream again. Then I spotted my mom with Mrs. Lashley I broke free and ran to her across the room.

Mrs. Lashley was still talking. “I know you’ll make sure she does the right thing today and exposes that shifty-eyed Mr. Fujita. It will really go a long way toward salvaging her character.”

“Character?” Suddenly Mom blew her top worse than the time I made a slingshot out of her stocking. She poked her finger at Mrs. Lashley. “That little girl of mine has more character in her little pinky than you and a whole army of those squirrel-faced Shirley Temple cutouts you and your cronies call daughters!”

“I beg your pardon!” Mrs. Lashley backed away from Mom and tripped on her high heels. When she plopped down on the floor, her hat fell off and her hair sort of spun around.

“And if I ever hear you talk about Bird like that again, so help me, Irene, I’ll mop the floor with you and that woolly wig you keep on your head.”

Mrs. Lashley clutched her hair—and it fell right off! I had always thought her hair looked funny, but I never guessed it wasn’t attached to her head. Everyone in the small crowd that had gathered to watch burst out laughing. Mrs. Lashley tried to cover the bare patches on her balding head, but it was no use, so she raced into the bathroom in tears.

Mom grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

The crowd parted for us and we marched straight toward the courtroom. It was like that scene in the movie
The Wizard of Oz
when all the Munchkins stand back to let Dorothy follow the yellow brick road. And all at once, maybe for the first time, I got the incredible feeling that this woman, who it seemed could only scold me or complain about having to clean up after me all the time, this woman who’d just cut Mrs. Lashley down about two sizes, this same woman was
my mom
, and I wanted everyone in town to know it.