Free Dolls of Hope by Shirley Parenteau Page B

closed.
    But she was uneasy about claiming the space with the view. “Won’t Sensei expect to sleep near the windows?”
    “She’ll sleep nearest the door to be sure we all stay inside. You’ll see.”
    Chiyo lay back on the soft futon, thinking how much nicer it was than her sleeping mat at home. She meant to enjoy every minute of this trip, but she would sleep with one eye open, in case Hoshi decided to accidentally drop a cushion over her face and sit on it.

S liding paper
fusuma
screens divided the large room into sections. As Hana had expected, Oki-sensei chose an area near the doorway.
    Watanabe-sensei met the group for a short walk to a noodle house for lunch. When Hoshi raised her bowl to her lips, pushed noodles forward with her chopsticks, and slurped them in, Chiyo suspected her of a trick. But everyone at the table was slurping their noodles and broth. She had supposed that only country people ate in such a rapid manner.
    Free to enjoy her lunch, she raised her bowl to her mouth. Hana nudged her, looking toward three women wearing short skirts at a nearby table. Their hair, cut in short black wings, swung against their ears whenever they turned their heads.
    All three brought out cigarettes. Smoke soon rose from their red lips and formed a smelly cloud.
    “Flappers.” Oki-sensei put one hand to her heavy chignon as if to reassure herself it was still there, then leaned forward to warn in a low voice, “Notice how those young women draw attention to themselves. They are neither graceful nor attractive. You girls do not want to be like them.”
    Chiyo concentrated on her noodles and broth to keep from staring at the women. Hana must have peeked, however. She murmured, “How strange their hair must feel swinging against their faces.”
    Masako now wore her hair in a divided chignon. When she married, she would arrange it into a single round bun to show that her heart was one with her husband’s. Softly, Chiyo asked, “How can anyone know from such a style whether they are married or single?”
    “No one would marry such women,” Hoshi said. “They must all be without husbands.”
    Both teachers nodded agreement.
    Above the sounds of people enjoying their noodles, parts of the women’s conversation reached Chiyo. Their words startled her even more than their loud voices.
    The flappers all worked in a business office. How was that possible? Wasn’t business for men? The women laughed often and didn’t bother to lower their eyes when a man walked past.
    Shizuko cast a sidewise glance. “How sad that they behave so freely.”
    Shizuko was beginning to sound like Hoshi, Chiyo thought.
I wish to be as graceful as Hoshi, but I will never think like her.
    Oki-sensei drew their attention. “We have an afternoon free. I will escort any of you who would like to shop.”
    As they made excited plans, Chiyo remained silent. Hana turned to her. “You can come, Chiyo. You can enjoy looking at everything.”
    That didn’t sound like fun to Chiyo. She didn’t want to remember her lost coins while everyone else bought sweets or souvenirs.
    Oki-sensei said quietly, “Miss Tamura, you might like to use the time to write to your parents. You may take a sheet of paper and an envelope from those in my trunk.”
    Chiyo thought of her parents’ pleasure and surprise on receiving a letter from her. Would a mail carrier make a special trip to the village? Maybe Yamada Nori would stop by the school again and she could send it with him.
    “Arigatogozaimasu,”
she told the teacher. “They will be pleased to hear from me.”
    Upstairs, the girls gathered jackets and purses and rushed away while Oki-sensei selected paper for Chiyo along with a fresh nub for her pen and a box of ink.
    While Sensei hurried after the others, Hoshi paused beside Chiyo. “I am sad to see you forced to remain in the room alone. I can spare one sen for you to spend.”
    Hoshi would enjoy watching me look at the prices of things I can’t