Free Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata Page A

their doors open for ventilation. So many cots filled some of the rooms in the barracks that there was no place to walk. The walls didn’t extend all the way up, and you could see the beams in the ceilings. In one barrack three giggling boys were climbing across the beams peering into other people’s homes.
    “That looks fun,” Tak-Tak said hopefully.
    “I don’t think we’re supposed to do that.”
    “Will they shoot us?”
    “Stop saying that. It’s bad luck.”
    Sumiko opened the door to a barrack with a sign reading RECREATION . Inside she saw an empty room with a few tables. Seeing the empty room filled her with fear of something Jiichan had once described to her. He had been sick, and he tended to ramble when he was sick. Sumiko had been sitting with him as he told her about the trip from Japan to America. “I don’t see sky for many long time. I feel close to ultimate boredom. That mean close to lose mind. Inside myself, I feel like screaming. Outside myself, I calm.” He said that the thing that kept everybody going was a single word: America . That word was the most important thing his family owned, the only thing of value they possessed.
    Day after day Sumiko felt as if she were living on the edge of the ultimate boredom. Some days she stayed inside the stable, other days she wandered aimlessly. Once as she and Tak-Tak wandered she heard people rushing through the aisles hissing, “The soldiers are checking for illegal sewing scissors!” She saw a woman screaming as soldiers ransacked her barrack.
    Sumiko thought of her yellow knife and felt almost faint with fear as she ran to Stable Four. She could hear Tak-Tak calling behind her, “Where are we going?”
    Auntie watched uncomprehendingly as Sumikoransacked her own luggage, found the knife, and ran outside. She stopped just long enough to snap at Tak-Tak, “You stay here!”
    She ran and ran, finally stopping at the other end of the racetrack where she found a patch of dirt. She was drenched in sweat from running. She dug a hole and rammed her knife inside before walking back, trying to appear calm. She promised herself never to mention the knife to anyone.
    Sumiko’s next big surprise came a few days later when she noticed Mrs. Ono sobbing while holding a letter.
    “Mrs. Ono? Can I help?” Sumiko asked.
    Mrs. Ono couldn’t stop crying as she waved the note in the air. She held on to Sumiko and sobbed and laughed. Sumiko took the note and read it:
    Dear Mrs. Ono,
    I hope this letter reaches you and would appreciate your letting me know. I am the new resident of your house. I wished to let you know that I will be caring for your dog until your release. Please do not worry as he is in good hands during these difficult times .
    Yours truly,
    Mrs. Julia Donnell
    Reading the letter was like seeing the sky. Sumiko thought about the woman all day. It gave her so much hope, it seemed like a miracle.
    One day Sumiko sneaked back to where she’d buried her knife. She dug it up and scratched off her name before burying it again.
    Otherwise, every day was the same. Oh, there were more room searches and there were electrical blackouts and the kids were going wild, but for Sumiko, whether their barrack was dark or light didn’t change her life much. Whether their barrack was ransacked by soldiers didn’t change her life at all. They had nothing to hide anymore.
    Then one evening in late May, Ichiro ran inside and said, “My friend says the camp paper is going to announce tomorrow that the government will start moving us all to a permanent relocation center.”
    The next day camp was in bedlam, people standing in the aisles shouting and discussing and debating and crying. The paper announced that several hundred to a thousand people would be shipped out at a time. Sumiko’s family was on the list of those leaving first.
    The next day she came across some kids she didn’t know climbing a ladder up a roof. She hesitated—ladders were probably forbidden.