Girl in Reverse (9781442497368) by Barbara Stuber

and bloodstained snow and marines cooling their guns with river ice after an attack by “the Reds who are trying to split the free nations of the world apart.” Another has Chinese Lieutenant General Wu speaking at the United Nations, blaming UN troops for the criminal acts that precipitated the Korean War. Only the Russian delegate shakes hands with the general after his speech, evidence of commies sticking together.
    To close, the announcer asserts, “We must not capture the enemy; we must destroy the enemy. Red China’s atrocities will be judged by the parliament of the world.”
    *  *  *
    Friday after school I’m lying on my bed when Ralph barges in as usual. “Scram. This waif has a horrible headache.”
    â€œWaif?”
    â€œOrphan.”
    â€œHold on.” He exits to the bathroom and comes back with two aspirin and a glass of water. Ralph chews his thumbnail, rocks back on his heels, looking down at me. “Tell me as soon as it’s gone, ’cause I’ve gotta show you something.”
    â€œWhat?” I say, rising onto my elbow. Ralph’s hair is stuck up funny in the front. “I am not doing a guessing game. I had a humiliating, horrible day.”
    â€œWith Mom?” Ralph asks, as if everything impossible in my life has to do with her.
    â€œAt school.” I rub my eyes and explain about Tom Bradford being missing in Korea and the devil Lieutenant General Wu newsreel and the traveling waifs and how I feel responsible for the invention of Communism.
    He nods. “Bad day.” Then holds up a finger. “But not as bad as Tom Bradford’s day.”
    â€œRight.” I picture Susan Bradford looking so dumbfounded and Tom in a grisly prison camp with U.S. soldiers stumbling and starving and dying. Ralph sits beside me on the bed. I lean on him, my heart stopped. He’s quiet for a change. I think he’s crying a little bit too.
    I start sobbing. “Don’t ever go in the army, Ralph. Or the navy or the marine corps. Promise. I know it looks all brave and everything, but please, promise me you won’t go.”
    â€œI thought you had to enlist with the selective service or something if you’re a guy.”
    â€œThen get a bad-back deferment like Dad, or a hernia, or flat feet, or . . . get married.”
    â€œGetting married wouldn’t keep an eleven-year-old out of the army.”
    â€œYou’re right. But being crazy would.”
    â€œOkay. I won’t get married.” Ralph stands. “Is your head better? There’s something I need to show you. Don’t move.”
    He runs to his room and returns with his hand behind his back. He shuts my door, breathing hard.
    â€œNow, close your eyes and put out your hand.”
    I start to, then pull back and make a fist. “Is it gonna be wet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAlive?”
    â€œNah.”
    â€œDead?”
    Ralph sets something in my hand.
    It’s the same wooden wrist rest from his collection.
    â€œOh, this is certainly exciting,” I say. “You’ve shown it to me a million times already.”
    â€œBut see the carving on the bottom?” Ralph points to the flat side.
    It has engraving so faint I have to close my eyes to feelit. I rub my thumb over the gouges and swirls. “Yeah. So? Do wrists really need to rest?”
    â€œAllow me to demonstrate.” Ralph puts the stick on my vanity, grabs paper. He holds a pencil, props his forearm up on the wrist rest, and writes his name. “This holds your arm steady if you’re doing calligraphy, you know, Chinese writing, or painting with ink.”
    â€œWhat’s the joke?” I ask.
    â€œNo joke.” Ralph looks right at me. Pink creeps up his neck. “This one’s used. A rare Chinese antique . Like you’d find in a museum.”
    â€œNo way. Where’d you get it?”
    â€œFound it.”
    â€œIn the