Burying Flowers [#Wattys2016]

Tuesday, March 31st, 1942

"Amy," My mother's voice is shrill and high, seething with frustration. "Amaya Hiroko, come down here! You're running out of time to eat something!"

Taking one more look in the mirror in my bedroom and grabbing my bag off the bed, I shout, "Coming!"

Downstairs, Kenji and Andrea sit at the table with bowls of miso soup and rice almost finished. I sit down at the one bowl left and take a bite of the lukewarm breakfast. Mother leans over the sink, chastising me in quick Japanese without ever looking up from the soapy basin of water and dirty dishes.

Eating quickly, I slide my bowl across the counter to where she stands. "Mother, it's fine. I'm not late yet. The bus still hasn't arrived and I just finished all my miso soup and rice before Andrea or Kenji could–"

"Damarinasai!" She looks up at me, finally. "Your siblings are only six and eight. You're thirteen now and without an excuse." The sudden honk of the bus sends Andrea and Kenji leaping up from the table and to the door. "Go get on the bus," She turns back to the sink, once again. "Unless you want to walk four miles to school."

I shake my head and start to the door, stopping only to ask if I can spend time with my best friends, Mary and Susan. She nods her head and mentions the four mile walk again, which sends me running to the closing doors of the bus.

I pass the seats where my siblings sit with the rest of the younger kids in the front seats and head to the back, where the rest of my grade sits. No one I know very well rides this bus with me. Not many kids at school live further out in the countryside like us. Susan and Mary live in town, within short walking distance to school. My family lives on a small farm–four miles to the school in town.

I sit in my usual seat by the window and say my "hellos" to the other girls on the bus. Most mornings, I just stare out the window, watching the northern California hills roll by. Everything is brown right now, the few trees scraggly and ugly. There's rarely any snow. As these months continue to move to summer, we'll all begin to feel the dreary ache for spring. No stockings, no jackets, and being able to eat lunch at school outside rather than being cooped up inside all day is the dream of every one of us.

In the seat opposite Nancy and me, I can hear some of the boys talking about the war. The United States declared war on Japan just over two months ago, after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. The boys joke about enlisting, making a few jokes that would offend any Japanese. I stare out the window and pretend I don't hear it. They're not really talking about me, since I'm American.

Though it reminds me of an incident that happened on my way to Father's general store last week. A stranger began to follow me. When I walked faster, he caught up with me and stayed by my side, breath reeking of cheap whiskey.

"Chink or Jap?" He asked me. Father's store came into view when we rounded the corner. I ran the rest of the way, and he didn't follow. Father didn't seem to notice when I burst in, out of breath. It doesn't matter. The man was strange. I never remember seeing him around before, and he had been a little more than just tipsy. I'm American, although I may appear to be Japanese. Such a confrontation shouldn't bother me. He must have come from another town.

At the end of the day I meet up with Susan and Mary at our meeting point by the school flagpole. I'm the first one to arrive, and stare up at the large, American flag. Susan and Mary come out together, laughing. Mary's eyes go wide when she sees me and skips over, dragging Susan by the arm.

"Amy! You wouldn't believe what Mr. Barnes did to Tommy in class today!" Mary shrieked, Susan's elbow in one hand and mine in the other, pulling us away from the school and across the street, towards town. I give in to her excitement, asking what Mr. Barnes did to poor Tommy Ward.