Paper Wishes (9 page)

“I've made a new curtain,” she says. “Just wait until you see it. I was tempted to make it white, but I chose light pink instead. I made a yellow one for your brother.”

For the rest of the morning, I help Miss Rosalie clean desks and chairs. We hang the curtain, sweep the floor, and wash the window. By the time I leave to join Grandfather for lunch, Miss Rosalie's new classroom is sparkling.

“Come back tomorrow, if you can,” Miss Rosalie says. “We can tackle your brother's classroom.”

*   *   *

At dinner that evening Grandfather says, “School will start soon.”

“We really don't have enough books still,” Ron says. “But we will get by. I can organize my classroom this weekend so that I am ready when school begins on Monday.”

“Manami has been helping her teacher today,” Grandfather says.

Ron smiles. “I heard something about that,” he says.

I think about the surprise Miss Rosalie and I have planned for him.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

*   *   *

The next morning, I watch as Mother takes out her teapot. I watch as she takes out a cup and a tray. I watch as she sets the teapot on the tray and the cup next to it.

“I thought you might like to take tea to your teacher,” she says. She hands me the new tea tin left over from the lantern celebration, and I pour tea leaves into the teapot.

Together, Mother and I walk to the mess hall. She boils water and I pour it over the tea leaves. I carry the heavy tray to the school building and inside to Miss Rosalie's classroom. I set it down on her desk. Steam rises from the teapot as I pour a stream of tea into the cup.

She takes a sip and smiles. “Perfect,” she says. Then she takes a cup from inside her desk and pours tea into it. She hands me the cup. We drink our tea in silence. Miss Rosalie smiles and looks out the window.

Ron's classroom is in the same block as Miss Rosalie's. It is not in the same barracks anymore, though. Now it is in the barracks next door. While we clean Ron's classroom, Miss Rosalie tells me about the new books she has brought: two volumes of poetry. She tells me about the new box of paints she has brought: six different colors. She tells me about the calico kitten she has brought: Annabel Lee.

Miss Rosalie laughs when she tells me about her kitten. While she was staying with her aunt and uncle, the kitten appeared on their doorstep out of nowhere.

Like the dogs, I think.

“Of course I kept her,” Miss Rosalie says. “Anyone would have kept her.”

Loud clanging from the mess hall interrupts us.

“Hurry off to your lunch,” Miss Rosalie says. “I'll finish up here. Your brother is going to be very surprised, don't you think?”

I look around Ron's classroom. It is neat and tidy, a curtain hanging over the window.

Maybe he will be surprised. Maybe he will be something else, too: maybe he will be happy.

Happy that I helped clean and organize his classroom.

Happy that Miss Rosalie made him a yellow curtain.

I put the cup and teapot on the tray and carry it to the mess hall.

*   *   *

After lunch, Mother tells me to rest.

Grandfather says that means I must take a nap.

But today I am not tired. So I lie on my bed with my paper and pencils.

Ron does not join us for dinner that evening. After we eat, Mother gives me a bowl of vegetables and noodles and chicken that is covered with a cloth.

“Perhaps he is working in his classroom,” she says. “If he is not, set it on the table at home.”

I take the bowl to Ron's classroom. On my way there, I see the wild boys playing baseball. They cackle and growl at each other, chasing around the diamond Ron made for them. Today there is a dog barking after them that is just as wild as they are.

I wonder where the dog came from.

I wonder what will happen to these wild boys if Ron returns to college. I wonder if their next teacher will buy them a bat, glove, and ball.

I wonder what will happen to me if Ron returns to college. I would miss him so much.

The door to Ron's classroom is closed but not pulled tight. I push it and it swings open without a sound.

I hear Ron's whisper voice but not his words.

I step into the doorway of Ron's classroom.

I look down. I do not want to interrupt.

“I cannot,” Ron says.

His voice is sad. It is certain. It is a little bit angry.

I look up and my heart stops beating. It is my brother. His arms around Miss Rosalie. But not the same way he puts his arms around me. And Miss Rosalie's arms around Ron. But not the same way she puts her arms around me. Their heads tilt toward each other. Their faces shine damply in the dim light. I must make some kind of noise, because they both turn to me at the same moment.

My heart begins to beat again, and I feel shame stain my cheeks red. I wish I had run away before they saw me.

They jump apart, and then I look down. I do not want to see shame stain their cheeks red like mine.

I set the bowl of noodles and vegetables and chicken on the desk closest to me and turn to leave.

“Manami,” Ron calls.

I do not want to hear what Ron wants to tell me. I do not want to be a good listener. So I walk out the door.

I start to run. I run past the wild boys. I run past the mess hall, where Mother is still cleaning.

When I reach the steps in front of our barracks I stop. I stand still until I feel so calm that Grandfather won't notice that I'm upset, and then I walk inside, past the table where he sits, to my bed, where I also sit.

Our room is the only place I can hide. Ron will not talk to me in front of the others.

I think about Ron and Miss Rosalie. Ron, who tells me secrets, but not this one. Miss Rosalie, who tells me stories, but not this one.

I wonder what other secrets I do not know.

*   *   *

Just before school starts, sickness begins to pass from one barracks to another.

“Rest,” Mother tells me before she leaves for her shift at the mess hall.

“Eat,” Father tells me before he leaves for his work crew.

But resting and eating don't help. I am too sick to start school with the other children.

Ron says nothing before he leaves for his classroom in the morning. But he pats my arm.

The sickness passing from barracks to barracks brings coughing and sneezing. It is mostly grandmothers and grandfathers who lie in bed. But what I feel is not in my lungs or in my nose. It is in my heart and my head. The sickness I feel has been growing larger and larger since I learned the secret between Ron and Miss Rosalie.

As the sickness grows larger, my throat shrinks smaller and smaller. Now not only do words not pass through my throat, but food cannot pass through either. Mother makes broth in the kitchen and Grandfather spoons it into my mouth.

Twice each day, I hear the chitter of my classmates as they walk to and from school. I wonder if the seat next to Kimmi is taken by someone new, or if the seat is waiting for me. I wonder if Miss Rosalie is waiting for me. When I think about Miss Rosalie, my stomach flips and my throat squeezes.

So I think of the dogs that now roam the paths of this prison-village.

I try to count them. One with Kimmi. One by the mess hall. Two with the cows. One with the wild boys. Perhaps even more have come since I've been sick.

I worry that other dogs will find the rest of the drawings. That there will be none left for Yujiin. How will he find me?

*   *   *

Mother and Father and Grandfather and Ron whisper when they think I am asleep.

“Something must be done,” Father says.

“She is not getting better,” Ron says.

“I think she is getting worse,” Grandfather says.

“I will take her to the doctor,” Mother says.

The next morning, Mother takes me to the hospital.

It is far away, as far away as it could be in this prison-village. It is behind Block 29, close to the cemetery.

A big truck stops at our barracks. Just like the day we left the island.

A soldier sits in the back with Mother and me. Just like the day we left the island.

The truck takes us to the hospital.

On the outside, the hospital looks like every other building here.

On the inside, it is wide open and filled with beds and curtains that separate the beds from one another.

Mother speaks to a nurse, and the nurse directs us to a bed.

I am tired from the trip, so I lie down.

The nurse pulls the curtain closed and checks me. Then the doctor checks me.

“I don't know what is wrong with her,” the doctor says. “Maybe it is this harsh climate. Too hot. Too windy. Too dry. We can keep her here, if you need to work.”

“I will take her home,” Mother says.

*   *   *

I overhear Mother and Grandfather talk about me. They say words like
sorrow
and
heartsickness
. But I cannot tell them Ron's secret. I will not write it down.

One day after school, Mother brings Kimmi to my bed.

Kimmi sits on a chair beside me.

“Can you sit up?” she asks. “I'll brush your hair.”

Mother helps me sit and then leaves us alone.

While Kimmi brushes my hair, she tells me about school.

“Miss Rosalie and I are saving your seat,” she says.

She tells me about her dog.

“Coco cries like a baby when my mother leaves her alone for two seconds,” she says.

Then she sits on the other end of my bed, her legs crossed in front of her. She tells me rumors about the wild boys and complains about this morning's breakfast. She recites a poem she learned for school and whispers news of the war that sent us to this prison-village.

Mother brings us thinly sliced apples from the orchard. They smell so good. I pick one up and bite a tiny piece off. My throat has opened enough for me to swallow. And I am hungry for more apples.

*   *   *

Since I have been sick, my family is together again. Father does not spend his evenings with the other fathers. He spends them in our room with us. Ron does, too. I notice that they do not speak to each other. But at least they are in the same room.

During dinner, Mother must have told Father about Kimmi's visit that day. When he returns from the mess hall, he smooths my forehead with his big, rough hand.

“You ate some apples?” he asks. He is smiling.

Mother is in the mess hall, finishing her shift.

Father sits at the table, holding a block of wood and a knife.

Grandfather sits near the window, watching the night.

I hear a tapping at the door, and then Ron opens it and says, “I have brought Manami's teacher. She wishes to see Manami.”

Father stands, placing the knife and wood on the table.

“Welcome,” Father tells Miss Rosalie.

Father, Ron, and Miss Rosalie stare at each other.

At the same time, Grandfather stands and Mother returns.

“Mother, you remember Manami's teacher,” Ron says.

“Welcome,” Mother says. “You are kind to come.”

“Thank you,” says Miss Rosalie. “I have been worried about Manami.”

I would like to close my eyes and pretend to sleep, but Ron saw that I was awake when he first entered.

I do not like to keep secrets like Father and Mother do. Not even secrets for Ron, who does not keep secrets either. Especially not secrets from Mother, who makes me broth. Or Grandfather, who finds me paint. Or Father, who makes me a fan.

“Please sit,” Mother tells Miss Rosalie.

Miss Rosalie sits. Ron sits. Grandfather sits. Father hovers. Mother brings a plate of crunchy cookies and pours glasses of water.

“Manami is sorry she has not returned to school,” Grandfather says.

“I know she has been sick,” Miss Rosalie says. “Many are sick now.”

“With Manami, it is something different,” Grandfather says.

“I see,” says Miss Rosalie.

Ron and Miss Rosalie look at each other for a moment. From across the room, I can see that their secret will not stay a secret for much longer. Ron rises from his chair and stands behind Miss Rosalie. He puts his hands on her shoulders.

“I want you to know,” Ron says. “Rosalie is more than just Manami's teacher.”

For a moment, no one moves.

Then, Father huffs and leaves the room.

Mother closes her eyes and sets her glass on the table.

Grandfather leans back in his chair. But I cannot see his face.

“May I speak to Manami?” Miss Rosalie asks.

I close my eyes.

I hear a chair scrape across the floor.

“Hello, Manami,” Miss Rosalie says.

I open my eyes. I do not want to, but I also do not want to hurt Miss Rosalie's feelings. But I cannot look at her, so I look at my hands instead.

“I have been worried about you,” she says.

“The classroom feels empty without you,” she says.

“My kitten is eager to meet you,” she says.

“I have read nearly half of one of the new poetry books,” she says.

“The walls of the classroom are covered with colorful paintings made by your classmates,” she says.

Then she says nothing for a while.

I think she must be ready to leave, so I look up.

Miss Rosalie's face is close to mine. Our eyes meet.

“I miss you,” she says. “Please come back.”

I nod.

Miss Rosalie presses my hand and then stands.

*   *   *

The next morning, I return to school.

I walk with Ron.

He tells me about the new baseball team. It is a team full of wild boys.

He tells me about the student newspaper. His students are clever.

He tells me about Miss Rosalie's kitten, which escaped from its basket in her classroom and wandered all over her building.

Then he stops walking.

He crouches low to see my eyes, like Miss Rosalie.