The Red Kimono: A Novel

36. Terrence

stall? Maybe something worse? And how long will we be there before they decide to move us again? I can only hope that Sachi will soon forget about Sam, and that I’ll forget Yuki. Then maybe things will return to normal between Sachi and me. Nobu slapped the journal shut and left his apartment at Santa Anita for the last time. He picked up the bags and walked down the center of Row 3, past other stalls with suitcases and boxes stacked in front. When he turned the corner, his stomach sank at the familiar sight of dozens and dozens of men, women, and children sitting and standing around boxes, bags, and luggage. Buses rumbled outside the gate while armed guards with clipboards shuffled from family to family, making checkmarks as they passed. He searched the crowd. Where were they? They were supposed to wait by the administration building. He looked at the face of every little girl close to Sachi’s age, but no Sachi and no Mama. At last, Mama called from somewhere behind him. “Nobu!” He turned to find her voice. She ran toward him, alone, breathing hard, her skin flushed. “Where’s Sachi?” he asked. Mama’s brows pressed together over eyes filled with worry. “She was sitting right next to me, then she was gone.” She grabbed Nobu’s shirt. “We must find her! They just called our number to load the bus.” CHAPTER 36 Terrence SEPTEMBER 25, 1942 You ain’t never gonna be nothing, ’cause you just a stupid nigger. Get a degree. Make something of yourself. Make a difference in this world. Nothing but a nigger. Make a difference in this world. No way could Terrence sleep with the words of Peachie and Mr. The Red Kimono 137 Blake wrestling round and round in his head. He flipped to his side and punched his lumpy pillow. Flopped again and stared at dust that rolled across the floor, like a ghostly mouse running to hide. He pulled the pillow over his ears to shut out noise coming from other cells. But it didn’t do anything to stop the clatter in his head. Okay, he’d admit Momma and Daddy always told him the same thing Mr. Blake had said that day in the visitors’ room. “Son, only way you gonna make something of yourself is to get you an education.” He’d gotten tired of hearing it, even though Momma made sure he couldn’t ignore her. But he could ignore Mr. Blake. That was for damn sure. Man, he had to get his mind off all that education bullshit back-andforth or he’d go crazy. Think of something. Anything. Patty and Missy. Yeah. Momma said she’d bring them on Sunday. Never thought he’d say it, but he sure missed his sisters. How many times had he slammed his bedroom door to keep them from coming in to pester him? Right now, he’d give just about anything to have Patty barge in, even if it was to ask him to fix that old, flat tire on her bike. She was always bugging him about that. He thought about all the times Missy crawled up into his lap, dragging along her favorite picture book. He smiled thinking about that silly book and how he’d grown tired of reading it over and over. Heck, if he had the chance, he’d even read that one to her again. Some nights, when the guards called “lights out,” he’d close his eyes, and he could almost feel her sitting there with him, pointing at the pictures while he read. He took a lot for granted back then. Jesus. By the time he got out of this place, Missy would be in first grade and wouldn’t need anyone to read to her. And Patty? She’d be a teenager. Boys would probably be chasing her all over the place, too. He sat up and propped the lumpy pillow on his knee before resting his head on it. How could he be so tired, but not be able to sleep? Why couldn’t he shut up those voices in his head that kept saying it over and over. You ain’t never gonna be nothing but a nigger. 138 JAN MORRILL He took a deep breath, lifted his head, and looked around the cell, searching for a way...