Falling Stars - Hardcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Shirley Reva Vernick’s interviews and feature articles have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping, Ladies’ Home Journal, national newspapers, and the publications of Harvard, Johns Hopkins, and Boston University. She also runs a popular storytelling website, storybee.org, which is used in schools, libraries, hospitals, and homes all over the world. Shirley graduated from Cornell University, majoring in Economics and Nutrition, and is an alumna of the Radcliffe Writing Seminars. Her previous works include The Blood Lie, Remember Dippy, and The Black Butterfly. She’s won the Simon Wiesenthal Once Upon a World Children’s Book Award, the Skipping Stone Honor, Langum Prize for American Historical Fiction, Director’s Mention, the Sydney Taylor Book Award Silver Medal, and was listed as an ALA 2012 Best Fiction for Young Adults. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Tamiko
October 7, 1944

Sweet Suki. She has decided we must go to our public shrine so I can pray for Kyo’s good fortune. It’s been almost one week since he left with his comrades. Six days, to be exact. Six days and six letters I’ve written to him at the Hiroshima training center. I picture him with his short-clipped hair and his baggy new uniform, learning how to use weapons, disciplining his body, caring little whether he meets an honorable victory or an honorable death. One week ago, he knew nothing of war except what he heard at the rallies. Now he’s a soldier.

Since Suki lives on the other side of town from me―the nicer side―we agreed to meet in the village center, which is really just a short string of storefronts on an old dirt road. By the time I get there, my polio-damaged leg is hurting, up at the top, by my hip. I call it my fire-horse hip because that’s how it feels, like a stallion with blazing hoofs is galloping across it. I’m used to it though, so it doesn’t slow me down much.

I’m a few minutes early, so I wander past the narrow, two-story buildings, all painted white. I walk under their tile awnings for some shade, passing the coffee house, the boutique, the sake brewery, all closed now, their owners in their homes upstairs trying to figure out how to make ends meet. Ah, the tea and gift shop is still open for business. At least there’s that.

“What are you shopping for?” asks Suki, suddenly at my side. She’s panting as if she ran all the way here. She probably did―she has two strong legs, after all, and no fire-horse hip.

“The only thing I want isn’t for sale―Kyo’s safety,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“All right.” She glances over her shoulder. Her older sister and little brother are heading our way.

“Are we all going?” I ask.

“No, Fuyumi is getting Nori out of Mother’s hair, that’s all.”

Fuyumi. Nori. Mother. Suki has her whole family. No one has died. No one has gone off to war―her brother is too young and her father is too old. No one even has a horse-fire hip. They all still live together in the house where she was born. I try not to envy her, but it’s hard.

Just then, one of Kyo’s friends comes out of the tea shop where we stand. He nods to us, then plants his gaze on Fuyumi, the beautiful Fuyumi with the large eyes and cherry mouth and swan neck. All the boys sneak looks at her, just as all the boys used to sneak looks at her mother.

Poor Suki. She takes after her father, with the long face and the large bones. Boys never stop to look at her. They don’t stop to look at me either, but at least I don’t have it rubbed in my face every day. I wonder if Suki envies me this one thing. No, probably not.

“Come on,” I say again. “Let’s go.”

“We walk for twenty quiet minutes, past the shops, around the corner, on to the small park where the shrine stands. “When were you here last?” I ask her.

“ “Too long. You?”

“ “Same.”

“Several little boys run around the park, some of them playing tag, some of them pretending to be fighter planes. Their mothers sit on a bench nearby, watching and talking. The day is warm and cloudless, a good day for little boys to frolic. We skirt them and step through the shrine’s wooden torii gate, stopping at the water fountain to wash our hands.

“Suki pours a ladle-full over her open palm. “The water is cold today.”

“ “As long as it’s fresh,” I say.

“She pours more water into her cupped hand and slurps it up. After rinsing her mouth, she spits it on the ground.

I take the ladle from her and do the same. The water feels like the winter to come.

We clasp our wet hands and walk up the stone steps, between the guardian lion dogs, into the shrine―a small, open-air space made of plain wood with a bark roof. The crisp, mossy scent of cypress fills our nostrils as soon as we enter. It’s like standing in a forest or inside a single living tree.

We pause to inhale the sacred feeling. No one else is here. It’s only us and the powerful kami energy. Such a great force―but is it strength enough to keep my brother safe?

“Go ahead,” Suki urges.

“Yes,” I say but don’t move.

“Tamiko, did you forget your coin?”

“No, I have it.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a 10-sen coin. Still, my feet stay put, so Suki links her arm through mine and leads me to the wooden offering box.

“Go ahead,” she says. “For Kyo.”

I nod, taking my strength from Suki. I need her more than ever now that Kyo is away. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I toss my tin coin into the box and listen to the paltry plunk it makes against the other coins inside. Stepping back, I bow two times, clap my hands twice, bow again, and say a silent prayer. Please keep elder brother alive. Please bring him home soon. That’s all.

“Did I do it right?” I ask Suki. I’ve been here many times, but now I can’t remember how to pray.

“Exactly right.”

“The coin felt heavy in my hand. Like a rock.”

“Well, it flew like a butterfly.” She takes my hand. “We’re done now. Let’s go outside.”

The cool air feels good on my face as we walk between the guardian lion dogs, through the torii gate, to the grassy park where the little boys are still playing tag. After the hush of the shrine, I’m glad to be back in the daylight, the noise, the wide spaces.

“Let’s sit here,” I say when we reach an oak tree near where the mothers chat on their bench. I’m about to settle down, when suddenly I jump back.

“Tamiko, what is it?”

“I heard something.” My heart beats like a sparrow’s wings.

Suki looks behind her and then up at the tree.

“It’s gone,” I say.

She narrows her eyes at me, then tilts her head to listen. “Ah, I hear it now.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s the sound of Kyo laughing. He heard you had trouble lifting a 10-sen piece.”

I fold my arms. “Suki.”

“Wait, what’s this?” She puts her hand to her ear. “He says he wants you to stop worrying so much.” She smiles her smirkiest smile at me.

In this moment, it’s hard to resent her for all she has. She’s my best and wisest friend, and I cherish her. “Fine. I’ll try.” I sit down, and she joins me.

“What do you think Kyo is really doing right now?” she asks.

“Training, the poor fellow.”

“Is it that bad?”

I swat a bug away. “The soldiers he met at the war rallies said they do marches, drills and weapons practice all day long.”

“Kyo isn’t used to physical labor. And he’s so skinny.”

“He was looking forward to it, if you can believe. He said they learn to crawl on their bellies with fake bombs strapped to their backs.”

“Why?”

“To practice slipping under the American tanks.”

She shakes her head. “He must sleep like the dead at night.”

“They do night training too. Full moon, no moon, they’re out there.”

Suki shakes her head again and gazes at the carefree little boys, standing in a circle for a new game. One of the bigger boys grabs a ball out of a smaller boy’s hands.

“That’s wrong,” I say.

“Yes, that big boy should give the ball back.”

“What? No, I mean Kyo.” I straighten my legs out in front of me. “Working day and night for the war. And all we do here is sit. I wish we could do something. Something to help. To make a difference.”

“Well, we came here,” Suki says. “I think that’s going to help. It’s going to bring good luck to Kyo.”

“He needs all the luck he can get. That’s why I hid a daruma doll in his rucksack.”

“Ha!” she laughs. “How long do you think it took him to find it?”

“I hope he never finds it, or else he might toss it. I want it to stay right there with him.”

“Do they let the soldiers keep their belongings?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter.”...