Free Born to Fly by Michael Ferrari

tell the cops you helped your dad escape.”
    “You rat fink.” Farley swatted him off like a fly and then let me go. “I ought to pound you right now.”
    Kenji helped me up. “Come on, Bird.”
    “Wait! Listen. If you keep quiet, I won’t take your lunch money for a month.” Farley actually looked scared.
    “You’re nuts,” Kenji told him. He grabbed me and we kept walking.
    Farley ran and stopped in front of us. “Two months.”
    “Forget it. Your dad’s a draft dodger,” I told him, poking my finger in his chest.
    “Shut up,” Farley said. “It’s not his fault. He just isn’t a killer.”
    “My dad went, and he’s not a killer,” I said.
    “Of course he is, Birdbrain. Killing is what soldiers do,” Farley said.
    That caught me off guard. I guess I had never really thought about what my father would have to do in the war.
    “My d-d-dad’s not hurting anybody,” Farley went on.
    “He’s hurting everybody, stupid,” Kenji informed him. “Especially you. You’re ashamed of him.”
    The truth of what Kenji said hit Farley worse than if he had been socked in the gut. I mean, he almost looked like he was about to cry, for Pete’s sake.
    “Leave him alone, Kenji.” I don’t know why I said it. Then I told Farley, “We’ll think about it.”
    “What?” said Kenji.
    “In the meantime, Farley, you promise to leave us alone,” I said. “And make sure everyone else does, too.”
    Farley thought it over.
    “Promise,” I said.
    Then he nodded, even though I could tell he didn’t want to. “All right.”
    “What the heck did you do that for?” Kenji demanded as we walked side by side. I hadn’t been paying attention to how far we had walked, and now I noticed we were on the dingier side of town.
    “I don’t know. It was the first time I ever felt sorry for him,” I said with a shrug.
    “I don’t. If my big brother had deserted, they’d have shot him,” Kenji said.
    “You have a brother?” I said, surprised.
    Kenji bit his lip, like the truth had just slipped out. “Uh, yeah. His name’s Kiyo. He joined the army the day after the war broke out.”
    “How come you never told me about him?”
    “I don’t know,” Kenji said. “I haven’t seen him in a year.”
    “I guess you must miss him.”
    “Yeah,” Kenji said, turning away.
    He stopped out front of a run-down building with a broken porch. I remembered it now. My mom said it used to be some kind of a saloon for ladies, until Minnie’s grandma got it closed down. Now it was called Francine’s Rooming House.
    “You live here?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Kenji said. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
    “Nothing,” I said, not really telling the truth. It wasn’t exactly what I’d call a home, but I guess it was probably the only place in town where he and his uncle could stay. I mean, they were Japanese, after all.
    “I guess I’ll see ya.” Kenji started to head in.
    “Hey. What about the camera?” I said.
    “Do you really want to see it?”
    “Sure,” I said.
    He hesitated. “Okay, come on in.” He led me around to the back door.
    We walked down a long hall. A lot of the doors were open. It was dark and it smelled kind of funny, from all the weird food cooking in the different rooms. We went past the bathroom and several rooms, one with a Negro family, several with old people speaking like Mr. Ramponi, and then one with people speaking another language that I couldn’t understand.
    When we finally got to the set of rooms where Kenji livedwith his uncle, I was surprised because it was much nicer inside. It wasn’t very big, but there were a lot of fancy decorations and stuff. Kenji set down his jacket over a small photo on the shelf and closed the door.
    “I’ll get the camera,” he said, and he went into the bedroom. While he was gone I looked around. I couldn’t resist going to the shelf to uncover the photo. It was of a Japanese man and woman, pretending to smile as they stood in front of a