A person would have to be out of her mind to complain about such a lovely room. Yet, for some odd reason, Mandy still missed their old apartment at the Fairfax Hotel on Yesler Way. She knew it was silly, and she would never have admitted it to a soul, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.
She reached down to pick up Susan’s Shirley Temple doll with her mop of lifelike curls. In a copy of her older sister’s Silver Screen magazine, she’d read about a Shirley Temple look-alike contest. Her sister Lora was an accountant for a shipping firm and could afford to purchase a copy of the magazine every week.
If they ever decided to enter Susan in a Shirley Temple look-alike contest, she’d surely win, with her curls and pouty lower lip. All they’d have to do is bleach her curls to a blond color, and she’d be a shoo-in.
Mandy lay the doll on Susan’s bed and padded barefoot across the golden hardwood floor to the bureau. Pulling out a pair of clean shorts and a shirt, she held them up and studied them. Both were faded from so many washings, having been passed from Lora down to Caroline and from Caroline to Mandy. In the McMichael family, hand-me-downs were real hand-me-downs.
There on the closet door hung Susan’s new dress, all ready for her first day of kindergarten. Lucky Susan and Ben had new clothes for school. Mama had told the rest of them that hand-me-downs would have to do. They’d spent a great deal of money on furniture for the new house, so cash for new school clothes was not available.
On the table between their beds sat Susan’s school supplies: scissors, paste, a pencil box, a box of eight sharp new Crayolas, two Laddie pencils, and one Big Chief ruled tablet. Each day, several times a day, Susan counted each piece and rearranged the stack. The kindergartner was thrilled about her first day of school. Mandy felt just the opposite. Going to school at Queen Anne Grammar was going to be much different from Bailey Gatzert School on Yesler Way. She dreaded it. Mark, Lora’s boyfriend, called Queen Anne the snooty part of town. Since he was from Madrona Beach near Lake Washington, he should know. In high school, he’d played sports against teams from Queen Anne Hill.
Mandy dressed and sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair. With the rat-tail comb, she straightened her center part. Two red barrettes were fastened into place, one on each side, letting the waves fall loosely to her shoulders. Mama would probably tell her she should have braided her hair for the day, but she didn’t feel like wearing little-kid pigtails today. Sharing a room with Susan made her feel enough like a baby. She didn’t need pigtails to make it worse.
From the stairway, she could hear the voices coming up from the kitchen. They seemed so far away, as though everyone were in a distant country. When they lived at the Fairfax, they were only a few steps away from one another. Mama once said they lived on top of one another. But that was what Mandy loved most about their apartment. That closeness, plus Mrs. Mikimoto’s wonderful Japanese cooking.
“Amanda!” John’s voice called up the stairs. “Hey, slowpoke. The bacon’s almost gone. You’d better hurry.”
Bacon was Mandy’s favorite part of breakfast. “You’d better save me a piece,” she called back.
“Can’t make guarantees for sleepyheads.”
She grimaced at herself in the mirror. Her two-year-older brother could be so frustrating. “I’m coming!”
Mandy still didn’t hurry as she went down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen at the back of the house. Every room in their new house was as big as a cave. The kitchen was no exception. In fact, it was the spacious, light-splashed kitchen that had caused Mandy’s mom to say yes to buying this house. Over and over, Mandy had heard her mom say: “I want a kitchen big enough for all of us to sit down and eat together.” That was asking a lot for a family with seven children, but at long last, Mama had her wish.
Nineteen-year-old Lora, looking lovely and poised as ever, stood at the sink washing pieces of chicken in preparation for frying them. Mother was cutting up the boiled potatoes for potato salad. Caroline had the silverware drawer open and was counting out the pieces to put into the wicker picnic basket.
“Well,” Caroline said as Mandy came in, “it’s about time. What a lazybones. You should be helping out.” At fourteen, Caroline had begun to sound more like a mother than a sister.
“It’s supposed to be a holiday,” Mandy protested feebly. All this busyness made the guilt-pricks sharper than before.
Mother took one look at her and said, “Mandy, you should have braided your hair. It’s a picnic.”
“I want to wear it down.” She filled her plate with the last of the bacon from the skillet on the stove and then took a bottle of milk from the fridge to fix a bowl of Wheaties.
Mama made them take turns getting their favorite cereal. Wheaties was John’s favorite because it sported a picture of Jack Armstrong, the All-American boy. John never missed an episode of Jack Armstrong on the radio. He’d even sent off for the Jack Armstrong whistle ring, along with the secret whistle code. He and Baiko and Dayu Mikimoto used to play with their whistle rings together when they lived on Yesler Way. She hadn’t seen the ring since they moved.
Pouring a glass of milk, Mandy stirred in heaping spoonfuls of Ovaltine to make the good-tasting chocolate-flavored drink. She, on the other hand, liked to listen to Little Orphan Annie’s radio show. Orphan Annie loved to say:
For extra pep ‘n’ flavor keen,
Drink chocolate-flavored Ovaltine!
Spooning up the soggy Wheaties, Mandy gazed out the windows to see the twins taking turns riding piggyback on Peter around the yard. Susan’s squeals of laughter floated in through the open window. Mandy could remember when her older brother used to give her piggyback rides, but she was too big for that sort of thing now. Sometimes she wished time could stand still. Change was such a scary thing—especially when so many changes came at once.
Yesterday, when they had arrived home from church, Dad switched on the console radio in the living room in time to hear the news that Britain had declared war against Germany. Although Dad, Peter, and Lora’s boyfriend, Mark, talked on and on about the war, Mandy tried her best to ignore them. She didn’t want to hear about the fighting and bombing and killing. In one direction, Japan was waging war on China, and in the other direction, Nazi Germany was attempting to take over Europe. When Mandy heard adults talking, they were asking, “Will the U.S. be next?”
The question that haunted Mandy was, if the United States went to war, would her beloved Peter have to go? She couldn’t bear the thought. Peter was the only one in the family who loved books as much as she did. He seemed to understand when she preferred to have her nose buried in a good book rather than be doing her chores.
Now the twins were playing tag, and Peter was helping Dad clean out the trunk of their new burgundy-colored DeSoto. Long-legged and slender, Peter stood a few inches taller than Dad. With his dark hair and clear blue eyes, Peter was about the most handsome boy in the world, Mandy thought. The twins kept running up behind him as though to scare him, and he joined in their fun, even as he was helping Dad. That was just like Peter.
Hurriedly, Mandy finished the Wheaties, rinsed her dish and tumbler, and joined in the picnic preparations. Mother set her to cutting the carrot and celery sticks and wrapping them in squares of waxed paper.
Just as the golden-brown chicken was ready to be lifted from the skillets, Mandy heard Lora give a little gasp. Only one thing these days took Lora’s breath away, and that was Mark Johnson. Sure enough, in a moment they all heard the rattle of his old black Ford pulling into the drive. The thing shimmied and shook so that Mandy thought the fenders might fall off.
Lora dropped the towel in her hands and ran out the back door, letting the screen door slam just like Mama daily told all the rest of them not to do. Mandy guessed rules could be broken when you were grown up and had fallen in love.
“Mama!” Caroline cried out as she gaped out the window. “He’s kissing her right in front of the whole world.”
“Carol
ine McMichael, you get away from that window this minute,” Mama ordered.
But Caroline ignored her. “Why should I miss out on what all the neighbors are seeing?” All dreamy-eyed, she added, “Mmm. It’s so, so romantic. Almost like Rhett and Scarlett in Gone with the Wind.” Turning from the window, she said, “Mama, do you think I’ll ever have a man love me like Mark loves Lora?”
Just then, John popped in the back door and heard the question. Ruffling Caroline’s hair, he said, “Love you? You must be joking. Who’d wanna fall in love with a girl who can beat them at baseball, touch football, and marbles?”
Caroline shoved him away. “Oh, go away. Nobody asked for your feeble opinion.”
John stumbled and acted like he was falling. “Ah, she got me. The tough woman got me. I’m dying. Argh! Gasp! Dying!”
Mandy laughed at their antics, but Mama said for them to stop it that instant. “Let’s use our energy to get this food packed.”
“Oh, yeah.” John grinned sheepishly. “That’s why I came in. Dad wants to know what’s ready to be loaded.”
Within the hour, both Mark’s old Ford and the McMichaels’ DeSoto were loaded, and they were off to Kinnear Park. Mandy had even slipped in her newest Nancy Drew mystery without anyone noticing. With any luck, she’d have the whole thing read before the day was out.
John and Ben chose to ride with Mark and Lora. That left more room in the backseat of the DeSoto. Dad was so proud of their car. He’d bought it from a fellow worker at the Boeing plant just a week or two earlier. Her father had vacuumed it, washed and waxed it, and put on new tires.
But as with the new house, Mandy felt disoriented—as though she were riding along in someone else’s body in someone else’s place. Her place was in their old apartment at the Fairfax Hotel on Yesler Way. And Baiko and Dayu were there waiting for her and John to come outside and play.
CHAPTER 2
The Golden Ring
The shady park wasn’t far from their house, and Dad teased them about being softies—riding in the car when they could walk. But Mama said she’d like to see him walk and carry all the baskets of food, plus the blankets.
“Now, Nora,” he said, patting her arm, “we did it when we were kids.”
Mama only smiled. Mandy figured Mama knew Dad loved driving his new car and that he wasn’t really protesting at all.
The park was crowded. They drove through the winding, shady drives looking for empty picnic tables. Finally, Dad said, “Aw, who cares about tables? We’ll spread the blankets under the shade trees.” He motioned to Mark, who was following close behind, to park along the road, and they all piled out.
Mandy had to admit nothing was as lovely as Kinnear Park down near the waterfront. The soft carpet of grass smelled sweet and clean as she spread a blanket over it. The food was quickly spread before them, and after Dad said grace, they dug in. The twins were finished eating and ready to play almost before the others had started. Peter said the two of them moved like greased lightning.
Since everyone was stuffed, they voted to wait until later in the afternoon to cut Mama’s layered chocolate cake. Peter took the twins off for a walk on the path through the woods, and John and Caroline challenged Lora and Mark to a game of badminton. Peter never asked if Mandy wanted to come along on the walk, and the foursome never asked if she wanted to play. Nine, Mandy decided, was a nothing age to be.
As Mandy went to the car to retrieve her book, she heard Mama call out, “Don’t overdo now, John. If you get winded, please stop right away.”
John continued running around, knocking the feathered shuttlecock over the net as though she’d never said a word. Mandy knew John was embarrassed half to death when Mama called out to him like that.
Ever since John’s last frightening coughing attack, Mama seemed to hover over him—more so even than with the twins. But then, Mandy, too, was terrified when John coughed and coughed and coughed and couldn’t get his breath.
Taking her book, Mandy walked a ways into the woods until she found a nice place to lean against a tree and read. Overhead, the birds sang their hearts out, and in the distance, the lonely ship whistles sounded in Elliott Bay.
She was nearly halfway through the book when she heard voices and footsteps along the path. Thinking it was Peter and the twins, she jumped up to hide behind the tree. She held her breath, waiting to leap out and scare them.
But it wasn’t Peter and the twins. Instead, it was four girls who all looked to be about Mandy’s age or a little older. Quickly, she pulled her head back and pressed closer to the rough bark of the tree.
“And we can call our group the Golden Ring,” one of the girls was saying.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” said another. “That’s a wonderful name. How’d you ever think of it?”
“You know the answer to that, Jane. I’m smart, that’s all.”
The girls giggled at the comment. As they passed by the tree, Mandy peered around at them. All four wore neatly cuffed shorts with blouses that matched. Their black-and-white saddle oxfords showed no scuffs on the white parts, and their anklets were neatly turned down.
“We’ll be able to do most anything we want all during fourth grade,” said the girl with long, honey-colored hair, the one named Elizabeth. “Old deaf and blind Mrs. Crowley won’t see a thing.”
“Dow–dy Mrs. Crowley,” said another. The other three joined in the chant, singing, “Dow–dy Mrs. Crowley,” then burst into giggles.
Mandy stared at the foursome as their voices faded into the distance. She glanced down at her faded play clothes and scuffed oxfords. Deaf and blind Mrs. Crowley? Now she dreaded the first day of school more than ever.
Just as Mandy suspected, Susan was up at the crack of dawn the next morning, singing her little songs about going to school. You would think it’s Christmas or something, Mandy thought as she turned over and tried to ignore the noise. It couldn’t be anywhere near time to get up.
Lucky Lora. She got to go to work at Gaylor Shipping each day. None of this stuff about being the new kid at a new school, and all the worry that went with it, for her. Half-awake, Mandy dreamed of four girls surrounded by a glowing, halo-like golden ring. They walked along in a fuzzy cloud where saddle oxfords were never scuffed.
“Mandy! Mandy, are you awake?” It was Mama’s voice from out in the hall.
“She’s awake,” Susan said with a giggle. “But she’s acting like she’s not.”
“Everybody up,” Mama said. “We don’t want anyone to be late on the first day of school.”
Mandy groaned. When she had attended Bailey Gatzert, no one had had to tell her to get up. She loved going to school with all the kids in the neighborhood.
“Button me, please, Mandy.” Jiggle, jiggle went the bed. “And tie my sash, too, please.”
Mandy heaved a sigh and threw back the covers. This was silly. The little sister should be the one who was frightened of going to school, not the big sister. Dutifully, she buttoned the back of Susan’s cute little print dress and tied the sash in a bow, making sure the ends hung down just right.
“Thank you,” Susan said primly. She picked up her armload of school supplies and went out the door. Mandy watched her, wondering what Susan would do for the next three-quarters of an hour before it was time to leave the house.
Standing in front of her closet, Mandy closed her eyes and grabbed a dress. It didn’t really matter which one. She was thankful that John was still in grade school with her. Walking into the school with him would make things a little easier.
Mama asked the twins if they wanted her to come along on their first day. They said no. She’s asking the wrong ones, Mandy thought as she pulled on her brown school shoes and tied the laces. She was the one who felt like holding Mama’s hand today.
Peter took the bus to the high school, and the junior high Caroline attended was in the opposite direction from Queen Anne Grammar. Mandy marveled that Caroline didn’t seem a bit afraid. John was the same way. In fact, John had
gone out looking for boys his age the very day they moved in. “If we’d come earlier in the summer, I’d have found a few,” he said after a fruitless search.
Dad said they lived on the edges of the Queen Anne Hill community and mostly older folk lived in their immediate neighborhood. “You’ll make friends at school,” Dad had promised.
When they arrived at the playground, the first thing Mandy noticed was that all the faces looked alike. Her old school, located smack in the middle of the international district, had kids of all races and all nationalities. Dad called it the melting pot of the city. No one was really like anyone else, yet everyone was accepted. As the white faces stared at this new family coming into their world, Mandy wished she had taken time to appreciate her old school more when she was there.
Queen Anne Grammar was a buff brick building, rather new looking, long and low and spread out. It was nothing like stocky, two-story, old worn-out Bailey Gatzert. The chain-link fence here was sturdy and in good repair. The teeter-totters, jungle gym, swings, and slippery slide looked newer as well.
Silently, the four McMichael children climbed the front steps. The twins were a bit more subdued, and they moved closer to one another. How Mandy wished she had someone to hang close to all day.
John stepped ahead to open the front door, and they filed into the front hallway, which was lined with trophy cases. Filled-up trophy cases. Mandy wondered if this school had won every prize in every school event in the city.
Though they hadn’t discussed it, Mandy thought John was going to go with her to take the twins to the kindergarten room. She was wrong. After they stopped in the office to learn where their rooms were located, John said, “You go on and take the twins to their room. I’ll see you at lunch.”
American Triumph: 1939-1945: 4 STORIES IN 1 Page 12
