Cherry Blossom Baseball by Jennifer Maruno Page A

direction. She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that she had just become Gretel while Hansel hid behind his mother’s skirt. “Go on,” Eiko said firmly. “See what she wants.”
    Michiko slid from her chair and put her hand out for Hiro to take.
    He moved back farther against the wall.
    Michiko shrugged and followed the woman outside and around the back of the house. Her feet sank into the soft grass, damp with early morning dew. Mr. Palumbo was coming down the ladder, cradling a tiny black cat with a white tail.
    â€œMrs. Morrison!” Michiko cried out as she reached to take the cat. “You found her!”
    The woman knitted her brows in puzzlement. “Palumbo,” she said, patting her chest, “ Signora Palumbo.”
    Michiko nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Palumbo,” she said. “The kitten belongs to my brother. He was sad when he couldn’t find her.”
    Mr. Palumbo nodded. Then he reached out, scratched the kitten’s tiny head, and broke into a smile. Michiko took a closer look at his well-trimmed, heavy moustache and giggled. “Thank you,” she said again.
    The man doffed his cap and turned to remove the ladder as Michiko dashed back into the house. She placed the kitten into Hiro’s arms.
    â€œMr. Palumbo found her up the tree,” she explained. “He got a ladder to get her down.”
    Hiro drew the kitten to his face and nuzzled its fur.
    â€œHe should go outside and say thank you,” Michiko said to her mother.
    Hiro put the kitten on the floor next to its saucer of milk.
    â€œMaybe he should write a thank-you letter,” Michiko muttered as she returned to her toast. At least this morning’s adventure will give me something to write to Mrs. Morrison, she thought. Wait until she finds out Hiro named the kitten after her.
    The kitchen door swung open for a second time. It was her father.
    â€œWhere did you get that?” Eiko asked Sam, staring at the huge burlap bag in her husband’s arms.
    Sam put the rice sack on the counter. “A Japanese fellow gave me directions to his grocery store in Toronto,” he said with a wide grin. “He says he’ll stop by soon on his way to Niagara Falls.”
    â€œHow much was it?”
    â€œI got it on credit,” he said sheepishly.
    â€œOn credit,” her mother said, glaring at the bag as if it was garbage. “We never buy things on credit. What were you thinking?”
    Sam’s eyes went as hard as coal. “I was thinking of rice,” he said, letting the screen door slam as he headed back outside.
    Eiko looked at the door and shook her head.
    â€œRice!” Michiko exclaimed as she raced to the counter to examine the bag. She couldn’t wait for its buttery, nutty smell to bubble up from the pot on the stove.

Chapter 7

    SCHOOL
    M r . Downey drove an anxious Michiko and her mother into the village Monday morning. School had already started, and she had missed the first few weeks.
    White trellises of late summer roses stood between the windows of the two-storey brick building. The well-manicured lawns boasted beds of geraniums and marigolds.
    â€œIt’s so beautiful,” Michiko murmured as they pulled up the drive. Her last school, a derelict hardware store in an abandoned part of the ghost town, had a dank, woody odour, and nothing was in bloom anywhere near.
    â€œThe Bronte Horticultural Society holds their meetings here,” Mr. Downey said. “They oversee the landscaping in exchange. Turned out quite pretty, don’t you think?”
    Several children moved toward the entrance to stare at Michiko and her mother as they made their way up the walkway. Eiko ignored them as she marched into the building. Michiko, in her crisp white blouse, new skirt, shiny hair, and scrubbed face, waited on a chair in the school office with her lunch sack in her lap. She stared up at the glass cabinet