Under Lock and Key

1: Paternal Pedigree

Chapter One: Paternal Pedigree

Yuji Kinoshita 1918 San Francisco, California

I met Joseph on a windy afternoon in March. The most important day of my life.

It didn't start out that way. I only just turned fifteen. Still a child, really. He was only ten. So young. He was an infant.

I knew him vaguely from school. A new kid. An immigrant from Italy, he didn't speak any English. The other kids outright bullied him or ignored him, since he was so small and afraid. Kids are just animals, aren't they? Smelling weakness from miles away and exploiting it whenever and however they can.

I knew from experience. Being Japanese in a mostly white school in North Beach, one of maybe ten in my school of four hundred. The Oriental school closed about eight years ago, but some families in our neighborhood still seemed shocked to realize their darling lads and lasses would sit next to Japanese kids from kindergarten to grade seven. Chinese and Korean kids were out of luck. Or maybe, maybe they were better off, having their own schools. They didn't have friends in high places like we did.  The white schools were way nicer, but the segregated schools didn't come with the constant harassment mine did.

Anyways, this boy was kneeling in the grass at the park three of four blocks from school, blonde hair blowing in his face. Not someone I'd normally pay attention to.

I was almost ready to graduate, my parents and aunts and uncles already hunting high and low, looking for the best job I could get. I thought about attending high school, which seemed okay too. Higher learning meant a better paying job. Even a stupid kid like me knew that.

I wandered over when I saw what he was messing with. A kite. Seemed strange to see a white kid messing with a kite, a toy my Ojisan taught me to make and fly when I was five.

"That's wrong," I said, toeing the kite with my shoe.

"Huh?"

I thought it likely he wasn't all that intelligent. He was, but I just didn't know it at the time.

I knelt down next to him, putting down my satchel. "What's your name, kiddo?"

He blinked, and I felt bad. I'd forgotten he didn't really know English.

I pointed to myself. "Me Yuji." Pointed to my chest emphatically. "Yuji." Then tapped his chest. "What's your name?"

Understanding dawned.

"Joseph," he said, sharing his name with me, with an accent that sounded...it sounded...

Looking back, that was the moment I was caught. When I found myself thinking about that boy in a way I wasn't supposed to.

His voice, so beautiful. So soft and quiet. He reminded me of a bunny.  They were everywhere here even in the big city. Soft blonde hair like downy fur. Huge trusting blue eyes.

"Help me?"

I guess he knew a little English after all.

We spent the afternoon together, fixing his kite, flying it. Laughing, trying to communicate, me teaching him English. He had a book in his own school bag, a thick journal where he'd pasted newspaper clippings of the Wright Brothers. Seemed like we had that in common. I loved hearing about those amazing men who'd figured out how to build flying machines.

We were inseparable after that. Sitting together during school breaks. I helped him with his homework.  Joseph lived in the building a few blocks from mine, so we walked to school together, ignoring the mean spirited looks from his family. Mine was more tolerant and we spent afternoons at my place, looking at books or just talking as Joseph steadily learned English. My ma would save up and buy us a box of cracker jacks, which we ate one caramelly crunchy kernel at a time.