hear us, her smile vanished and she said:
“Now listen to me. You’re both naughty girls!” She looked around to be sure no one was watching and then hit us on the tops of our heads. She didn’t hurt me, but I cried out in surprise. “If you do something to embarrass me,” she went on, “I’ll make you pay for it! Mr. Bekku is a stern man; you must pay attention to what he says! If he tells you to crawl under the seat of the train, you’ll do it. Understand?”
From the expression on Mrs. Fidget’s face, I knew I should answer her or she might hurt me. But I was in such shock I couldn’t speak. And then just as I’d feared, she reached out and began pinching me so hard on the side of my neck that I couldn’t even tell which part of me hurt. I felt as if I’d fallen into a tub of creatures that were biting me everywhere, and I heard myself whimper. The next thing I knew, Mr. Tanaka was standing beside us.
“What’s going on here?” he said. “If you have something more to say to these girls, say it while I’m standing here. There’s no cause for you to treat them this way.”
“I’m sure we have a great many more things to talk about. But the train is coming,” Mrs. Fidget said. And it was true: I could see it curling around a turn not far in the distance.
Mr. Tanaka led us back up the platform to where the farmers and old women were gathering up their things. Soon the train came to a stop before us. Mr. Bekku, in his stiff kimono, wedged himself between Satsu and me and led us by our elbows into the train car. I heard Mr. Tanaka say something, but I was too confused and upset to understand it. I couldn’t trust what I heard. It might have been:
Mata yo!
“We’ll meet again!”
Or this:
Matte yo!
“Wait!”
Or even this:
Ma . . . deyo!
“Well, let’s go!”
When I peered out the window, I saw Mr. Tanaka walking back toward his cart and Mrs. Fidget wiping her hands all over her kimono.
After a moment, my sister said, “Chiyo-chan!”
I buried my face in my hands; and honestly I would have plunged in anguish through the floor of the train if I could have. Because the way my sister said my name, she hardly needed to say anything more.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she said to me.
I think all she wanted was a yes or no answer. Probably it didn’t matter to her what our destination was—so long as someone knew what was happening. But, of course, I didn’t. I asked the narrow man, Mr. Bekku, but he paid me no attention. He was still staring at Satsu as if he had never seen anything like her before. Finally he squeezed his face into a look of disgust and said:
“Fish! What a stench, the both of you!”
He took a comb from his drawstring bag and began tearing it through her hair. I’m certain he must have hurt her, but I could see that watching the countryside pass by outside the window hurt her even more. In a moment Satsu’s lips turned down like a baby’s, and she began to cry. Even if she’d hit me and yelled at me, I wouldn’t have ached as much as I did watching her whole face tremble. Everything was my fault. An old peasant woman with her teeth bared like a dog’s came over with a carrot for Satsu, and after giving it to her asked where she was going.
“Kyoto,” Mr. Bekku answered.
I felt so sick with worry at hearing this, I couldn’t bring myself to look Satsu in the eye any longer. Even the town of Senzuru seemed a remote, faraway place. As for Kyoto, it sounded as foreign to me as Hong Kong, or even New York, which I’d once heard Dr. Miura talk about. For all I knew, they ground up children in Kyoto and fed them to dogs.
We were on that train for many hours, without food to eat. The sight of Mr. Bekku taking a wrapped-up lotus leaf from his bag, and unwrapping it to reveal a rice ball sprinkled with sesame seeds, certainly got my attention. But when he took it in his bony fingers and pressed it into his mean little mouth without so much as looking
“Now listen to me. You’re both naughty girls!” She looked around to be sure no one was watching and then hit us on the tops of our heads. She didn’t hurt me, but I cried out in surprise. “If you do something to embarrass me,” she went on, “I’ll make you pay for it! Mr. Bekku is a stern man; you must pay attention to what he says! If he tells you to crawl under the seat of the train, you’ll do it. Understand?”
From the expression on Mrs. Fidget’s face, I knew I should answer her or she might hurt me. But I was in such shock I couldn’t speak. And then just as I’d feared, she reached out and began pinching me so hard on the side of my neck that I couldn’t even tell which part of me hurt. I felt as if I’d fallen into a tub of creatures that were biting me everywhere, and I heard myself whimper. The next thing I knew, Mr. Tanaka was standing beside us.
“What’s going on here?” he said. “If you have something more to say to these girls, say it while I’m standing here. There’s no cause for you to treat them this way.”
“I’m sure we have a great many more things to talk about. But the train is coming,” Mrs. Fidget said. And it was true: I could see it curling around a turn not far in the distance.
Mr. Tanaka led us back up the platform to where the farmers and old women were gathering up their things. Soon the train came to a stop before us. Mr. Bekku, in his stiff kimono, wedged himself between Satsu and me and led us by our elbows into the train car. I heard Mr. Tanaka say something, but I was too confused and upset to understand it. I couldn’t trust what I heard. It might have been:
Mata yo!
“We’ll meet again!”
Or this:
Matte yo!
“Wait!”
Or even this:
Ma . . . deyo!
“Well, let’s go!”
When I peered out the window, I saw Mr. Tanaka walking back toward his cart and Mrs. Fidget wiping her hands all over her kimono.
After a moment, my sister said, “Chiyo-chan!”
I buried my face in my hands; and honestly I would have plunged in anguish through the floor of the train if I could have. Because the way my sister said my name, she hardly needed to say anything more.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she said to me.
I think all she wanted was a yes or no answer. Probably it didn’t matter to her what our destination was—so long as someone knew what was happening. But, of course, I didn’t. I asked the narrow man, Mr. Bekku, but he paid me no attention. He was still staring at Satsu as if he had never seen anything like her before. Finally he squeezed his face into a look of disgust and said:
“Fish! What a stench, the both of you!”
He took a comb from his drawstring bag and began tearing it through her hair. I’m certain he must have hurt her, but I could see that watching the countryside pass by outside the window hurt her even more. In a moment Satsu’s lips turned down like a baby’s, and she began to cry. Even if she’d hit me and yelled at me, I wouldn’t have ached as much as I did watching her whole face tremble. Everything was my fault. An old peasant woman with her teeth bared like a dog’s came over with a carrot for Satsu, and after giving it to her asked where she was going.
“Kyoto,” Mr. Bekku answered.
I felt so sick with worry at hearing this, I couldn’t bring myself to look Satsu in the eye any longer. Even the town of Senzuru seemed a remote, faraway place. As for Kyoto, it sounded as foreign to me as Hong Kong, or even New York, which I’d once heard Dr. Miura talk about. For all I knew, they ground up children in Kyoto and fed them to dogs.
We were on that train for many hours, without food to eat. The sight of Mr. Bekku taking a wrapped-up lotus leaf from his bag, and unwrapping it to reveal a rice ball sprinkled with sesame seeds, certainly got my attention. But when he took it in his bony fingers and pressed it into his mean little mouth without so much as looking
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