The Red Kimono: A Novel

58. Nobu

“But, he’s right there.” Terrence twirled pasta around his spoon. “I don’t see anything.” Guards began to shove their way through the cafeteria. “What’s going on here? Break it up,” they yelled. Terrence nodded his head at Carter. The final signal. “Hey, you! Fatso!” Carter said to Peachie. Terrence hadn’t thought Peachie’s eyes could bug out any more, but they did when he heard Carter speak. “I was dead. And one of you killed me.” He pointed at Peachie. “You!” Then, his glower and accusing finger pointed at the other boys. “Or was it you? Or you?” A wicked grin crossed his crazed-looking face. “I’ve come back for one reason and one reason only—to get the one that killed me.” He grinned and slithered his tongue where his teeth had been. “Don’t you know? When you come back from the dead, you got all kinda new powers.” Peachie turned even whiter than the white he’d been before. Terrence thought he’d bust with laughter, until the guards arrived to break up all the fun. CHAPTER 58 Nobu TULE LAKE, CALIFORNIA JULY 31, 1943 July 31, 1943 Here I am in Tule Lake, California—Camp Disloyal. Like cattle, we’re moved from place to place at the whim of the American government. Maximum security. No way could it ever come close to feeling like home. Especially without Mama and Sachi here. IthoughtsummersinArkansaswereunbearable.Hotandsteamy.Mosquitoes and invisible bugs that made my body itch all the time. Snakes. And the endless buzzing of cicadas, night and day. But this place is hell on earth. Someone told 254 JAN MORRILL me the camp was built on a lava bed. I can believe that, the way dust swirls and practicallysplashesupwhereverIwalk.Thelandscapeisflat,exceptforamound they call Abalone Hill, half a mountain that looks as though its top was blown off a million years ago. Worst of all is the heat that radiates off of everything, so dry it makes me thirsty just to look at it. Tule Lake is an angry-looking place, full of people like me—who marked no-no and are now called “disloyal.” Some have even applied for repatriation to Japan. The anger makes this place feel even hotter. Funny, as much as Mama and Sachi got on my nerves sometimes, I never realized how they added a kind of softness to my life. I have a roommate here. His name is Ichiro. He looks to be maybe five years older than me. He’s sitting in the room with me now. Kind of quiet, but he’s never still. His leg bounces up and down, like he’s always got something on his mind. He’s got a bandana tied around his head. It reminds me of the day I found Papa cutting down a tree in the backyard. I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, and I thought it looked silly for a man to wear such a scarf, so I asked him why he was wearing it. In a gruff voice, he told me it was called a hachimaki, and it was wornbysamurais.Thenhelaughedandsaid,“Itwilltakethestrengthof asamuraitobattlethistree .”I’dforgottenaboutthatday,untilIsawIchiro’shachimaki. My new roommate may be quiet on the outside, but with that hachimaki tied on his head, the look in his eyes tells me he has a lot to say. I’ve got a lot to say, too. But not to a stranger. I should write a letter to Sachi and Mama. But heck. What’s the use? Who knows if I’ll still be here by the time they receive it? “So where are you from, anyway?” Ichiro’s voice vibrated with the cadence of his jackhammer leg. “Berkeley.” Ichiro rolled his eyes and adjusted his hachimaki. “No, I mean what camp did you come from?” Besides the fact this guy appeared to be a smart-ass, Nobu wasn’t in the mood to carry on a conversation. He scribbled another sentence into his journal, attempting to look occupied. Ichiro’s trying to strike up a conversation. Not interested though. “Hey. What was your name again? No-no?” Nobu put his pencil down and glared at Ichiro. “No-bu.” “Oh, yeah, that’s right. So, I asked you a question, Nobu. Where did you come from?” Ichiro rocked back and forth in his chair. The Red Kimono 255 “Rohwer.” “Where’s Rohwer?” “Arkansas.” “And...