Flying the Dragon (22 page)

Skye was thrilled when Grandfather finally insisted she help with the new kite. This was her chance to make up for almost ruining the dragon kite. Every day she’d race to Hiroshi’s house from soccer practice. They’d been following the same routine faithfully for the past week: grab a quick snack from Aunt Naoko, then head to the basement workshop with their backpacks. They were supposed to be doing homework, but the new kite needed to be made. It needed to be perfect, and it needed to be finished in time.

In time for the kite battle. In time for Grandfather to see it fly.

Skye and Hiroshi always spoke in Japanese whenever they were in the workshop. When Hiroshi taught her the kite-making rules, she liked to imagine the same words coming from Grandfather in his faraway workshop in Japan:

They reported their progress to Grandfather each evening before Skye went home for dinner. They told him what stage the kite was in and what the plan was for the next day. Sometimes Grandfather was awake for their daily report, and some days he wasn’t.

On Friday evening they were almost ready.

“It’ll be ready to paint tomorrow.” Hiroshi tapped the
washi
paper near the bamboo frame. “It feels solid.”

“I can’t believe we actually made a kite.” Well, Hiroshi had done most of the making, but Skye was proud that she’d been able to help. “I’ll come over tomorrow right after my exams, and we can paint it.”

“And then we’ll show it to Grandfather.”

Skye couldn’t wait to make him proud.

When Skye woke the next day, her first thought was the kite. Her next thought was the exams. She threw off her covers and saw her Japanese grammar book lying on her bedside table. Next to the book was a good-luck card from Amber. She felt a pang of guilt when she realized she hadn’t thought about soccer in over a week. But she’d have more time for soccer once she passed her exams. If she passed her exams.

She knew Grandfather was proud of Hiroshi—after all, he was a kite maker and flier just like Grandfather. But was Grandfather proud of Skye? He had never seen her play soccer. He had been patient with her less-than-perfect Japanese. The exams were her chance to make him proud of her, too.

Skye got out of bed. She would pass these exams.

On her way downstairs with the grammar book tucked under her arm, Skye mentally recited verb conjugations. Every few steps she peeked in her book to check if she’d gotten them right. She had.

“Mom?”

“I’m in the kitchen, honey.”

Skye didn’t know if she could stomach anything for breakfast. Maybe she would just grab something after she got dressed and eat in the car. She came around the corner into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of her parents. They were sitting at the table with cups of coffee and looked as if they hadn’t slept all night. Her mom’s eyes were rimmed in red.

She wanted to ask, but before she could open her mouth, she knew.

“Skye,” her dad began. And then the air seemed to drain right out of him. Her mom put her arm around him and pulled him close, then held out a hand to Skye.

But Skye was frozen. “It’s Grandfather, isn’t it?”

Her mom nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Yes, honey. He died during the night.”

Skye’s heart pounded in her ears. “But … we haven’t finished the kite. He hasn’t seen it yet.” She wondered if she had spoken aloud or if the words were trapped in her head.

Her dad went to put his arm around her, then led her to a chair. He took her Japanese book and laid it on the table. Skye stared at the picture of the Japanese cartoon children smiling on the cover of her textbook. Why were they smiling?

Her dad picked up the phone. “I’ll call your Japanese teacher and postpone your exams.”

“No.” The word flew from Skye’s mouth before she’d had a chance to think. She hadn’t made Grandfather proud. But she would.

“I’m taking the exams.”

Hiroshi didn’t know what had woken him with a start so early in the morning. He sat up in bed, wide awake, and looked around his room. The morning light had already begun to play at the edges of his window shade. Pushing aside his covers, he got up and walked over to the window. When he tugged at the shade, it rolled up with a snap.

Something didn’t feel right. Not a single leaf swayed on the branches of the tree outside his window. Nothing stirred in the early sunlight. The wind had ceased.

He heard the low sound of Father’s voice. Opening his door a crack, he heard Mother’s voice, but he still couldn’t make out any words. Something about their hushed tones kept his feet from making a sound on the stairs. They probably didn’t want to wake Grandfather.

“Yes, yes, I called the rest of the family. They can be here in two days.” Father sounded tired. “No, he’s still asleep. And Sorano?”

Hiroshi crept closer to the bottom of the stairs. Father said good-bye to the person on the other end of the line, then hung up. Hiroshi stood there, ready to walk into the kitchen.

Mother’s soft crying stopped him mid-step. Father murmured something to Mother, then, “Let’s go onto the deck so we don’t wake Hiroshi.”

Hiroshi heard the back door open, then Mother’s words: “I cannot believe he is gone.” And then the door shut behind them.

Hiroshi froze. He raced back up the stairs to Grandfather’s room and flung the door open. Grandfather’s futon was empty.

It couldn’t be true—Hiroshi wasn’t ready yet. He and Skye hadn’t finished the kite, and they hadn’t tested it and hadn’t painted it, and the kite battle—

Hiroshi flew out of Grandfather’s room and down the basement steps into Grandfather’s workshop. Without turning on the light, he stood in the middle of the room. Grandfather’s workshop was lit only by the sun filtering in through the high, small windows. He took a deep, quivery breath and closed his eyes.

The smell of bamboo still hung in the air. He pretended he was standing in Grandfather’s workshop in Japan. Grandfather would come in any minute now, eager to get started on the next kite.

He opened his eyes. Everything was in its place; the paints on the shelves, the brushes, the stacks of
washi
paper, and the kite that he and Skye had been working on all week. And there was the magnificent dragon kite. He removed it from its place on the wall. Hiroshi didn’t care about the broken bamboo and the rip that Ravi had made—it was still Grandfather’s masterpiece.

But wait—Hiroshi peered at the kite, then turned it over and inspected the underside. The bamboo pole had been replaced with a new one, and the dragon had been repainted. Grandfather must have done all this while Hiroshi had been at school. But how could he have fixed it when he’d always been so tired?

The silence was broken by the tapping of a rosebush branch against one of the high windows. Hiroshi went and stood below the windows, looking at the sky—a bright blue interrupted only by a few puffs of billowy clouds gliding by.

The wind had arrived.

It was a perfect day for flying kites.

Skye’s pencil hadn’t stopped moving for a full three hours. Her hand was starting to cramp, and she ached to stretch her fingers. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop, because the more she wrote, the more Japanese words—verbs, nouns, rules, adjectives, more rules—swirled inside her head. History, reading, calligraphy. More words meant fewer thoughts that could creep from her heart into her head.

“Time.”

Kumamoto Sensei’s voice echoed over everyone’s heads. The sound of pencils hitting desks sounded like firecrackers, and Skye jumped, pencil still in hand. Kumamoto Sensei’s glare forced Skye’s pencil to her desk. Skye had insisted that her dad drop her off at school without talking to Kumamoto Sensei. Skye could only hold herself together if no one knew, if everything was business as usual.

“Boys and girls, the written exam is now complete.” Kumamoto Sensei nodded toward another Japanese teacher who was collecting the exams from students’ desks. “As you know, Takahashi Sensei is the instructor for the advanced class. If you pass, you will have the honor of becoming one of his pupils for the afternoon summer session.”

Skye didn’t look at Takahashi Sensei as he collected her paper.

She had seen his gentle face before, and today she didn’t want to see any kindness. She even avoided Maya’s looks from across the room.

“Takahashi Sensei will be joining us in the exam room to evaluate the written portions of your exam while I administer your oral exam. You will be given your exam results immediately.” Kumamoto Sensei picked up a clipboard and pen from her desk. “Now, who would like to go first?”

No one moved. Then Skye rose and stood beside her desk. “I would like to go first, Sensei.”

The other kids turned to look at her as if she were crazy. Surprise flickered across Kumamoto Sensei’s face for a moment, then her stern mask snapped back in place.

“Very well, Tsuki-san. You may come with me.” Skye gathered her things and followed her teacher into the hall. She knew this would be a good time to run over the list of verbs in her head, but she suddenly felt tired. She put one foot in front of the other until they reached an office.

“
Dozo.
” Kumamoto Sensei gestured toward a chair, and Skye sat, placing her jacket on the empty chair next to her. Her teacher moved a few papers from a desk to a side table and sat in the chair opposite Skye. “Shall we begin?”

What am I doing?
Skye thought.
Why did I volunteer to go first?
Her breath quickened, but she couldn’t do anything to slow it down.

“Would you like a drink of water before we begin?”

Skye nodded. “
Hai. Arigato gozaimasu.
“

Takahashi Sensei appeared at her side with a paper cup of water. “Relax, Tsuki-san. It is only a test.” Skye looked up at him.

His kind face reminded her of another such face. She braced herself for the tears, but they didn’t come. Instead, calm washed over her. She could do this.

She took a sip of water, thanked the teacher again, and set the cup on the desk. “I am ready.”

“
Hai,
Tsuki-san. Let us begin.”

For the next twenty minutes, Skye was asked about her favorite foods, school activities, and the ins and outs of the Japanese tea ceremony. Skye spoke without remembering what she said, all the while wrapped in her blanket of calm. She saw Kumamoto Sensei make notes in her book, but Skye didn’t care.

Finally Kumamoto Sensei announced, “For the last question tell me about a favorite hobby. Please describe the last time you participated in this activity so that you may utilize the past tense.” Last week, Skye had planned to talk about soccer. But now she spoke of kites and bamboo and wind and string. The hill in the park. How to make a fighting kite.

When she finished, Kumamoto Sensei blinked, then rose to join Takahashi Sensei. The teachers leaned over Skye’s written exams, and she waited. Her blanket of calm slipped away, and Skye wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking. When the teachers came back, Takahashi Sensei glanced sideways at Kumamoto Sensei.

Skye wanted them to tell her that she had passed. She didn’t know how she’d gotten through the exams; she barely remembered her answers. But she wanted to pass. Not just for the All-Star team. She wanted her grade to show that she was worthy of being Japanese. Worthy of being the granddaughter of Shou Tsuki, respected kite maker, renowned kite fighter, beloved Grandfather.

“Tsuki-san,” Kumamoto Sensei began. “Never in my twenty-five years of teaching have I seen results like these.”

Skye looked at her knees. She had failed. Failed herself—her Japanese self. Failed Grandfather. She didn’t want to hear anymore, so she stood to go. But when she looked up at Kumamoto Sensei, her teacher was smiling. At her. Skye sat back down.

“You passed, Tsuki-san.”

Skye stared at her teacher. The smile was still there.