Dolls of Hope (18 page)

For them, she would remain silent. She would be the humble girl they wished her to be. But the drawing was hers. It would never belong to the school.

At last, she was dismissed with the others. As people crowded around, she lost sight of the headmaster. She wove between people, needing to be with her parents. Others tried to speak to her, but she scarcely heard them and didn’t stop moving.

When at last she reached her parents, proper manners flew from her head. Instead of a polite bow, she reached out to hug them both and felt their hands press warmly against her shoulders. Happy tears slipped down her cheeks. “I have missed you!”

“As we have missed you,” her mother assured her.

Yamada Nori urged them all into his carriage to ride to a teahouse where they could visit before her parents had to return home. As the beautiful horse pulled them through the streets, questions swarmed through Chiyo. She struggled to keep them inside. Her family and Yamada-san had sent her away to school to learn humility, not to rain questions on them.

Even though she smiled and bowed and tried hard to act like a traditional girl, her mind raced while she toyed with her teacup.
Did you see the drawing?
she wanted to ask.
It’s for you, to hang in the alcove. How are Yumi and Kimi? Is Masako preparing her three wedding kimonos? How I wish I could see them.

“Yumi and her sister miss you,”
Okaasan
murmured while the men talked together.

“I have so much to tell them!”

Yamada Nori must have seen anguish in her face. Gently, he said, “You will have much to share with your friends and family when you return, little sister. But let us talk of Tokyo and your discoveries there. Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

She thought of holding the forbidden doll, of being sent aside and told not to sing, of singing anyway, of the photographer . . . of her picture in the newspaper. Had they seen her picture?

None of those subjects were safe, and she reached almost blindly for one that would be acceptable. “Miss Tokugawa accepted the first doll after welcoming the dolls to Japan. She was very graceful.”

“You were wise to notice her graceful manners,” Yamada-san said. “Have you become friends with Miss Miyamoto?”

Although he usually kept expression from his face, she could see the answer he expected in his eyes. He did not want to hear of the burned
kokeshi
or of Emily Grace stuffed into a vase.

What could she say? “Miss Miyamoto . . . is much like her father.”

Yamada-san nodded. “The general is known to be forthright and well respected.”

“He wants to destroy the dolls!” The words burst from her, and she dropped her chopsticks in dismay. Everyone stared at her.

“You misunderstood,”
Otousan
said.

Chiyo felt her face flaming. Why had she thought General Miyamoto would be a safe subject? “He came to breakfast with us on the first morning. He said that welcoming the Friendship Dolls looked like weakness when our country should be expanding into others.”

Okaasan
sent warnings with her eyes, but it was too late to take the words back. Chiyo was afraid to look at Yamada-san.

“Ah, well,” he said after a moment. “I have said he is forthright. Our emperor has welcomed the dolls. Therefore, all of Japan welcomes them.”

Okaasan
looked at her husband but spoke without his approving nod. Softly, she asked, “Chiyo-chan, is this girl difficult?”

Chiyo almost laughed at the question. Was Hoshi difficult? But
Otousan
and Yamada-san were watching her. “I understand Miss Miyamoto,” she said, wanting to reassure her mother. “I think she understands me.”

She glanced at Yamada Nori. “Her walk is very graceful, and she always speaks pleasantly. Only once have I heard her raise her voice, and that was in warning.”

Otousan
asked, “In warning? Of what, Chiyo-chan?”

She had plunged straight into the subject she wanted to avoid. “A doll fell. Hoshi called a warning, but I was closer. I caught the doll. It was Emily Grace.” She looked uneasily at her mother. “A photographer took my picture.”

“The one in the newspaper,” Yamada-san said. “We have wondered how the photo came to be.”

Otousan
said, “Yamada-san brought a copy of the newspaper to us. The picture is very good of you.”

Okaasan
added, “We framed it for the alcove, Chiyo-chan. When we look at the picture, we feel you near us.”

Tears of relief swept through Chiyo, but she kept them from spilling. She had worried even more than she knew that the picture might change everything. Now, it seemed nothing had changed at all, and she could enjoy sharing the rest of her adventure. “The mayor sent an automobile for me! It was so big! And fast! When we drove down the street, boys ran after us shouting my name. Watanabe-sensei said I was a celebrity.”

Her parents looked at each other. Had she said too much? She heard doubt in her voice as she asked softly, “Is a celebrity not a good thing to be?”

Okaasan
patted her hand. “It is in the past. You have nothing to worry about but listening well to your teachers.”

Otousan
added quietly, “Chiyo-chan, we are honored to be your parents. It pleases us that you are learning so much.”

In both of them, Chiyo saw the look that had been in her mother’s eyes the day she warned that Japan was changing and that Chiyo must go to the new school and learn to change with it.

All too soon, it was time for her to return there and for her parents and Yamada Nori to start for home. Chiyo bowed to her parents and especially to Yamada-san, who would be her brother when he married Masako.

“You made everything possible,” she told him softly, wondering if she should have remained silent and simply bowed.
“Arigatogozaimasu.”

Yamada-san nodded but looked at her with an unsmiling expression. “We did not expect such excitement for you when we sent you to this school. It is good that you are back in Tsuchiura now, where you will resume your training.”

Chiyo considered the warning behind his words as she watched him help her parents into the carriage. He was not pleased with her picture after all. She must be careful never to attract attention to herself again.

For long moments, she lingered outside the school, watching the carriage roll away. She longed to be inside it, to be going home. In her memory, everyone at home was happy. Even Yumi only teased her because she loved her. Everyone there loved her. Her eyes blurred so that she had to keep blinking to hold the carriage in sight for as long as possible.

Behind her, the school door slid open. “Chiyo!” Hana shouted, rushing through. “Chiyo! You’re back! I’ve been watching for you! Something awful has happened!”

“E
mily Grace?” Disasters crowded into Chiyo’s mind, each more terrible than the last. “Tell me! What’s happened? Where is she?”

She grabbed for the door and pushed it wrong, jamming it.

Hana put one hand on the door. “She’s fine. It’s us!”

“Us?”

“The ones who went to Tokyo. We’re doomed!”

“The ones who went to Tokyo?” Chiyo drew a deep breath, trying to think. “What do you mean? Headmaster is proud of us.”

“He’s too proud!” Hana moaned. “Kaito-sensei told us over tea to welcome us back. We are all to report on our trip. In front of the whole school! And parents! We have to talk in front of parents! I’m going to die!”

“I thought something awful had happened,” Chiyo exclaimed.

“It has! Didn’t you hear me? We have to give reports in front of the whole school. And parents! All of us!”

Fear for Emily Grace had kept Hana’s words from sinking in. Talk in front of the whole school? In front of parents? “Oh.” Chiyo heard her own voice sounding faint. “I thought we were supposed to be learning modesty.”

“Kaito-sensei said modern girls will have to learn to talk when it’s necessary. She said we may even work in business offices someday. Like those flappers in Tokyo, remember?”

Horrified, Chiyo asked, “She wants us to be flappers?”

“No.” Hana giggled, then grew serious. “She said it will be good experience for us to tell everyone about our trip. And you . . .” She paused meaningfully. “You have the most to tell.”

Chiyo swallowed. Hana was a politician’s daughter. She should talk as easily as her father.
But I have never talked to a crowd, except to introduce Emily Grace at the station.
“When? Not today!”

“In two weeks. We’re supposed to think about the trip and decide what we will tell everyone.” Hana moaned again. “My mind is blank!”

Chiyo’s mind didn’t feel blank. It felt like a pot with too much rice boiling higher and spilling over. What should she tell them? How much? How little?

She tried to plan during the days following, days filled with classes and, in spare time, making paper flowers to decorate a rickshaw for the Friendship Doll’s welcoming parade.

Emily Grace now sat on a small table in Headmaster’s office. Every chance she got, Chiyo peeked through the door to make sure the doll was safe.

On the day they fastened the last of the paper flowers to the rickshaw, sunlight sparkled over the bright petals. Hana wore a large red blossom in her hair while she put the others into place.

Chiyo teased, “When I see that bright red flower, I almost forget I have to talk in front of many people.”

“Maybe I should wear two flowers,” Hana said. “One for me and one for you. We could both forget!”

The finished rickshaw was taken by night to the station and kept inside so townspeople would not see it before the parade.

When Chiyo removed the new kimono from its package in the morning, Hana helped her tie the obi and the
obi-jime.
The kimono fit as if she had been measured for it.

“It will give you courage for your report,” Hana said, approving.

All the students gathered at the station to officially welcome Emily Grace, most of them wearing kimonos. Even more people than before gathered to see the doll from America. Headmaster Hanarai made a short speech about the friendship project. When he finished, Chiyo carried Emily Grace from inside the station, feeling almost as graceful as Hoshi.

It felt right to hold the doll in her arms again and to sing “The Welcome Song” with the others. She gazed at Emily Grace when she reached the line
“This, our land of flowers, is now your own.”

She was sure that the doll’s eyes held a warm glow. It was even harder to present her to Headmaster Hanarai once again. Headmaster held the doll high for people to admire, even those in the back of the crowd, before carrying her to the flower-covered rickshaw. People bowed deeply. Their sparkling eyes said even more.

The girls who had gone to Tokyo were to pull the rickshaw through town. Hoshi announced that she would walk in front, since she was the leader. No one questioned her, although Chiyo thought that Hoshi should walk with the others and help pull.

Headmaster Hanarai settled Emily Grace on a cushion in the center of the rickshaw seat.

“She’s too small to see,” Chiyo exclaimed. “All they’ll see is flowers!”

“We’ll fix that.” He lifted Chiyo onto the seat. “Hold her up so everyone can see.”

Startled, Chiyo sat in the center of the flower-strewn seat and held Emily Grace in her lap. A look from Hoshi made her glad she was riding. If she were pulling one of the handles, Hoshi would probably trip her in front of the moving wheels.

The pleasure on people’s faces made her even happier. She held up the doll, smiling and waving Emily Grace’s arm. No one seemed to notice Hoshi gliding ahead of the cart, nodding royally while the people bowed and smiled at Chiyo and Emily Grace.

Many followed the rickshaw to the school, crowding into the largest room, the one used for dance classes, to see Emily Grace again and to ask questions. Almost before Chiyo knew it was time, she found herself sitting in the front row with the five other girls. The two teachers who had shared the trip with them sat at one side.

Chiyo felt like Hana, as if her mind had suddenly become blank. She had planned for days, but now she had no idea what to say.

H
oshi spoke first. Her father was present, glancing at his watch before the reports began. Chiyo thought he looked as if he didn’t want to be there, couldn’t wait to leave, and had probably come only to criticize whatever he heard, but Hoshi’s eyes shone. It was her chance to impress him.