Dash

by Kirby Larson

  Back home, a birthday breakfast was special, even if it fell on a school morning. Mom’s job was to mix up buttermilk waffles and Pop’s was to measure the birthday kid. A railroad track of pencil marks crosshatched the kitchen door frame: Teddy, age 3, 33 inches; Mitsi, age 5, 40 inches. Last year, on her eleventh birthday, she’d been as tall as Ted had been on his eleventh birthday: fifty-two inches. She’d grown a little this past year, but she doubted she’d ever catch up to Ted again. The new trousers Mom had ordered hadn’t arrived yet, so the poor guy was wearing high-waters.

  Here at camp, birthday breakfast meant waiting in a long line for oatmeal or corn flakes or the rare stack of pancakes. Mitsi, wearing her getas, huddled up with Mom and Obaachan under their one umbrella, out of the drizzle.

  There wasn’t a birthday candle in sight, but Mitsi made a wish anyway. She wished that the whole family would find seats together. And her wish came true! She could imagine that they were a normal family again, spooning up oatmeal, sipping tea. Everything was delicious, until Ted said, “May I be excused?”

  His friends could wait. It was her birthday after all. But then Debbie appeared at her elbow.

  “Here.” Ted slid off the bench and pretended to dust off the spot where he’d been sitting. “A throne for you, m’lady.”

  Debbie giggled. “Thank you, gallant sir.” She scooted onto the seat and handed Mitsi a small paper sack, the edges rolled over to keep it closed. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” Mitsi opened it. “Penny candy!”

  “One piece for each year.”

  Mitsi pulled out two BB Bats. “Which flavor do you want?”

  “They’re for you,” Debbie said.

  Mitsi jiggled the suckers up and down. “Strawberry or banana.”

  “Banana.” Debbie took the sucker and began to unwrap it.

  “For breakfast?” Mom made a face.

  “It’s a special day.” Pop reached for his coffee cup.

  Mitsi unwrapped her sucker, too, and took a lick. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was eating a strawberry fresh from the plant on Uncle Shig’s farm.

  “Do you want to go see if you got any mail today?” Debbie stuck out her tongue. “Is it yellow?”

  “No.” Mitsi stuck hers out, too. “Red?”

  Debbie shook her head. “Nope. Keep licking. So do you want to?”

  Mitsi hated to miss a day working at the gate. She was getting closer to that three dollars and ninety-five cents. But a birthday was a day to celebrate. To have some fun. Mitsi glanced at her parents. “May I be excused?”

  “You’re the birthday girl.” Mom winked. “I guess whatever you want, goes.”

  The girls slid off the bench and headed for the front door, past Ted and his friends.

  “Where are you going?” Lefty asked.

  Mitsi glanced at Debbie.

  “None of your beeswax!” Debbie grabbed Mitsi’s arm and they ran outside and down the way. They collapsed against the back of the laundry house. “We told them,” Debbie said, laughing.

  “You told them,” Mitsi said. Something caught her eye over Debbie’s shoulder. “Hey, they’re after us!”

  The girls took off running, dodging behind barracks and hiding behind garbage cans. At one point, the boys pounded past them as they crouched behind a set of flowered bedsheets hanging on the line in front of Barracks 17. Mitsi covered her mouth to keep the giggles inside.

  Debbie peeked around the sheets. “I think the coast is clear.” She led the way out of their hiding spot.

  Ted and Lefty tore around the corner of the building. “Gotcha!” Ted grabbed Mitsi, and Lefty grabbed Debbie. “Now you’re trapped.”

  Debbie shook Lefty off. “We knew you were back there.”

  Lefty squinted. “Like heck you did.”

  Debbie answered by popping her sucker in and out of her mouth. “You guys want to go over to Area D?” she asked.

  “I thought we were going to the post office,” said Mitsi.

  “We can’t,” Lefty said.

  “Not without a pass,” Ted added.

  “That’s what you think.” Debbie linked arms with Mitsi. “See you later.” She started off, with Mitsi scrambling along next to her. “Want to play a trick on them?”

  Mitsi grinned. “Sure.” They could go to the post office later.

  Debbie stopped and turned around. “I bet you a nickel we get in.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” Lefty said.

  She held out her hand. “Let’s see the nickel.”

  Lefty held his hand out to Ted. “Give her a nickel.”

  Ted patted his pockets. “I’m busted flat. Can’t help.”

  Disgusted, Lefty reached into his own pocket. “Here.” He held out the coin. “Where’s yours?”

  She fished one out of her pocket, too. “Right here. Come on.”

  Like the animals boarding Noah’s ark, they walked two by two, girls in front, boys right behind. Pudge ran up, stopping them. “What are you doing?”

  Lefty jerked his thumb at Debbie. “She says she’s going over to Area D.”

  Pudge gave Debbie an admiring glance. “The Ferris wheel’s over there,” he said. “Course, we can’t ride it.”

  “Just like we can’t get into Area D,” Ted predicted.

  “We’ll see about that.” Debbie lowered her voice to a whisper. “They changed the rules last night. My mom was there, taking dictation.” She stood up straight again. “How are we going to spend our ten cents?” she said, loud enough for the boys to hear.

  “I wonder how we’re going to spend ours,” Lefty countered. They bickered back and forth all the way to the gate between Area A and Area D. Debbie marched right up to the soldiers standing guard, as if they were carrying croquet mallets instead of guns.

  “My friends and I want to go over there,” she said, pointing. “To run on the racetrack.”

  The soldier closest to her scratched his nose. “ ’Fraid we can’t let you,” he said. “You need a pass.” He looked at the getas on Mitsi’s feet. “Besides, how would you run in those?”

  “Ha!” Lefty stuck out his hand. “Pay up.”

  Debbie tilted her nose in the air. Mitsi followed suit. “Sir, would you mind checking on that?”

  The soldier stopped chewing his gum. “You want me to check on that?”

  Debbie nodded. Mitsi did, too, even though her palms were sweaty.

  The soldier’s partner tapped him with the butt of his rifle. “Aw, go on. Ask.”

  The first soldier headed inside the tiny guardhouse. Mitsi saw him pick up a receiver. He seemed to be talking to someone. She held her breath when she saw him walk back their way.

  “What do you know?” The solider scratched up under his helmet. “The sarge says it’s okay. They don’t need a pass anymore.”

  The second soldier reached over the top of the gate and unlocked it. It swung open. “Be our guest.” He waved the kids through.

  On the other side, Debbie thrust her hand at Lefty. “Pay up.”

  “Make me.” He glowered.

  Ted jabbed him in the side. “Don’t be a welcher.”

  “What kind of friend are you?” Lefty asked Ted. But he handed over the coin.

  “The kind who can’t wait to run that track!” Ted loped off. Lefty spun around to follow, with Pudge puffing behind.

  “I can’t really run in these,” Mitsi apologized.

  “That’s okay.” Debbie wrapped her arm around Mitsi’s. “The boys were giving me a headache, anyway.”

  They started off around the oval track. “Did you ever come to the fair here?” Debbie asked.

  “When I was little.” Mitsi took an extra-big step to avoid a puddle. “I only remember the scones.”

  “I came with my dad once. We watched a horse race.” Debbie’s voice softened. “I picked the prettiest horse. Black, with a pure white stripe down its nose. And he won!” She smiled at the memory. “I got a pink cotton candy to celebrate.�
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  “He sounds like a nice dad,” Mitsi said.

  “Hey.” Debbie tugged on her arm. “It’s true.”

  Mitsi looked to where Debbie was pointing. There were people living in the horse stalls.

  “Maybe we don’t have it so bad,” Debbie said.

  Mitsi got a funny feeling in her stomach. As if she’d eaten about a pound of penny candy, instead of one sucker. “Yeah.”

  They were quiet for a bit, trying not to stare into the horse-stall rooms, even though many of the doors were standing open. Probably to air them out.

  “I want to go back.” Mitsi almost said, “Back home.” Those slipshod, splintery barracks certainly weren’t like home, but they were more like a home than a horse stall.

  The nice guard waved at them as they crossed back into Area A.

  Mitsi offered him a piece of candy from her bag. He chose a Tootsie Roll.

  “See you next time,” he called.

  Debbie didn’t say a word the entire walk to the post office. Mitsi had never seen her quiet for that long. Was she thinking about those people living in horse stalls, too? Or was she thinking about her father?

  Debbie pulled a nickel from her pocket. “Here.” She handed it to Mitsi. “Your share of the bet.”

  “It was your bet,” Mitsi said.

  Debbie pushed the money on her. “I don’t want it.” She crossed the path toward the post office. “I don’t want to go over there anymore.”

  “Me, either.” Mitsi pulled open the door, and Debbie followed her inside.

  “My two favorite customers!” Mel grinned when he saw them.

  Mitsi offered him a piece of candy.

  “Oh, I can’t resist these.” He pulled out a root beer barrel, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth. “Give me a second and I’ll see if there’s anything for you.”

  He disappeared for a moment, then was back at the window, holding out two pieces of mail. One was a card for Mitsi; she now knew that handwriting by heart. The other was a small envelope, with a lot of official-looking writing. It looked like the return address was stamped Montana.

  “Miyake, right?” His forehead wrinkled. “A-50-2?”

  Debbie folded the envelope and shoved it into her pocket. She put on a smile and pointed at Mitsi’s mail. “Looks like Dash sent you a birthday card.”

  Mitsi opened it up. There was a letter tucked in, too, but she’d save that for later. The front of the card was a drawing of a dog, looking droopy. Inside, the card said, It’s “ruff” not to spend your special day with you. Underneath that, Mrs. Bowker had written, Dash and I both send warm birthday wishes. He says he is saving a bone for you.

  “That’s cute.” Debbie tossed her sucker stick into the trash. “Hey, I better get going.”

  “I’ll walk you.” Mitsi slid the birthday card back into the envelope.

  “Naw. It’s okay.” Debbie bolted for the door and ran outside.

  Mitsi was so surprised, she couldn’t move. Had she said something wrong? Done something wrong? Or was it something to do with that letter Debbie had gotten? Mitsi puzzled it over as she walked home.

  After supper, Mom reached behind the blanket that hung between Ted’s cot and hers and brought out a pan of store-bought cinnamon rolls. Three mismatched birthday candles were poked into the top.

  “We have to wait for Ted,” Mitsi said.

  As if on cue, her brother slipped through the door. “Gotcha something, sis.” He tossed her one of those brand-new Archie comic books. “Happy birthday!”

  Ted was supposed to be busted flat. Where’d he get the money for a comic book?

  “Ready to make a wish?” Mom asked.

  Pop lit the three candles, and Mitsi got her second “Happy Birthday” serenade of the day.

  “How did you manage this?” Mitsi inhaled the sweet cinnamon smell of the rolls.

  “You know all those people that hang around the gate?” Pop asked. “Your mom got some teenager to go to the store across from the camp. She sent him for a birthday cake, but this was the best he could do.”

  It was kind of funny that both Mom and Mitsi were making good use of that fence, without either of them knowing what the other was doing. Mitsi looked at her brother and thought about changing her wish. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to give Lefty the money for the bet. So he’d have something to buy her a gift. That was probably it. She inhaled and then blew out the candles.

  “Your wish will come true.” Obaachan served Mitsi a roll balanced on a paper napkin.

  “Big deal,” said Ted. “There were only three candles.”

  Mitsi ate her roll slowly, letting the sweetness fill her mouth, hoping that her wish would come true. She could almost feel the cool silver of the chain on her neck, feel the slight weight of the locket at her throat.

  “Kind of a funny birthday cake.” Mom kissed the top of her head.

  Mitsi stopped chewing. “The best I’ve ever had.”

  And because it was so delicious, she took the tiniest bites possible until every crumb was gone.

  Mitsi counted her money. Twice. Finally, she’d earned enough for a locket! She got out a piece of paper to write to Mrs. Bowker. First, she answered the latest letter “from” Dash.

  Dear Dash,

  I’m sorry you got stung. Maybe that will teach you not to chase bees!

  I know you asked me to send you a drawing. But I’m not doing much art now. I did meet a guy named Eddie Sato who’s a good artist. He was drawing the laundry room on a hot day. The door and windows were open. He titled the drawing “Air conditioning.” That was pretty funny.

  Thank you for the birthday card. It made me laugh! I had a cinnamon roll birthday cake. Kind of different for a cake, but it tasted great.

  I’m here by myself for a change. It’s hard to be alone here. Even if you go to the bathroom late at night, you’ll run into someone. The reason I’m alone is that Mom and Pop are at a big meeting and Obaachan and Ted are off with their friends.

  Mitsi was happy that her grandmother had the dried-plum ladies to knit and drink tea with. But she wished Ted would find some better friends. Anybody besides Lefty.

  Well, I guess that’s all for now. I’ll tell Debbie you said hello. I mean, woof.

  Love, Mitsi

  Pretty soon she wasn’t going to have to imagine having Dash around — he would be around. At least around her neck, in the locket. She couldn’t wait.

  Mitsi took out a second piece of paper and began writing.

  Dear Mrs. Bowker,

  You’re already doing me a big favor by keeping Dash. Could I ask for one more? I thought of a way to have him at camp — a picture locket. I think you can buy one for $3.95 (money enclosed) at Sears, Roebuck. Would you do that for me and send it here?

  Thank you so much!

  Love,

  Mitsi

  She put her money in the envelope along with the letters and pasted on a stamp. If she hurried, it might get out in today’s mail. She jumped off the stoop and jogged over to Debbie’s, but there wasn’t any answer to her knock.

  Lefty was hanging around outside the canteen. He sniffed the air when he saw Mitsi. “I thought I smelled something funny,” he said.

  Mitsi glared at him and went inside. She heard the bell tinkle behind her. Lefty walked over to the candy display.

  “Just in time,” Mel said as she handed him the letter. “This should be there tomorrow or the next day.”

  Mitsi counted up in her head. If it took two days for a letter to go to Mrs. Bowker’s and back, and a couple more days for Mrs. Bowker to have time to go shopping, she might have her locket in a little more than a week.

  “See you later, Mel!” She turned toward the door. A movement across the room caught her eye. Had Lefty put something under his shirt?

  “Mel?” Mitsi stopped. “Mel?” He was gone, probably into the back room where he sorted the mail.

  Lefty sauntered outside. Mitsi waited another moment for Mel to return. When he didn�
�t, she went outside, too. Lefty was nowhere in sight. She walked toward the main gate and looked around. There he was. By the flagpole.

  She marched over to him. “What were you doing in the canteen?”

  “It’s a free country.” His grin was chocolate coated. “I can go in there when I want.” He took a step toward her. “Now beat it.”

  Mitsi beat it, wiping sweaty palms on her skirt. Where did Lefty get that chocolate? She didn’t see him buy it. That guy was up to no good.

  She found herself walking upstream against a crowd of people filing out of the mess hall. The meeting must be over. And from the looks on the faces she passed, the news must not have been good.

  But Mitsi never imagined how bad it could be. When her parents told her, right before supper, she felt sick to her stomach. Mom let her stay back at their room. “I’ll bring you some ginger ale and toast,” she’d said.

  Mitsi crawled across Ted’s cot to her own and lay down on her back, holding her stomach. Even though she’d counted all the knots up on the ceiling a dozen times before, she counted them again: fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. That last one was the one shaped like a dog, with perky ears and a little flag of a tail, like Dash’s. She rolled onto her side, the hay crinkling in the mattress as she moved, and cuddled Chubby Bear close, stroking him as if he were Dash.

  She felt all twitchy, like when she had the chicken pox that time. Only this feeling was inside her, in a place that couldn’t be soothed by calamine lotion. She needed to get the news out of her head.

  Mitsi shifted upright, set Chubby Bear aside, then fluffed her pillow and set it behind her back. She picked up her stationery pad and pen and started a letter. Instead of writing “Dear Mrs. Bowker,” she wrote “Dear Dash.” She knew he wasn’t going to read it, of course. She knew it was Mrs. Bowker who was writing to her. But Dash had always been there when Mitsi was sad. He was her best friend. It was a comfort to imagine talking to him.

  When I heard Mom and Pop say that we were moving, I thought that meant we’d get to come back home. But it doesn’t. We’re going to another camp, called Minidoka. It’s pretty far away, in Idaho. Pop says it’s a three-day train ride.

  Mitsi’s arms got itchier when she wrote those words. She knew there was nothing, really, on her skin, but she put the pen down and scratched like crazy until the feeling passed. Then she finished her letter: