Nobu
September 20, 1942
Nobu gripped the bat and studied Kazu’s face as he wound up for the pitch. His eyes always gave away how the ball would leave his hands. A twitch of his right eye, he’d throw a curve ball. Left eye, you could expect a fastball. Nobu had learned to interpret his friend’s facial expressions over the years, and though they shared many secrets, this one he kept to himself.
There it was. A tiny blink of his right eye, just before Kazu threw the pitch. Nobu swung and made contact with the ball, then tossed the bat behind him. It clunked and bounced on the ground as he tore away, headed for first base. Long, hard strides. He glanced to the outfield, where the ball whizzed past Kazu on the pitcher’s mound. An outfielder grabbed it and threw it to the infield.
Run! Run!
Nobu touched first base, ran past it.
Safe!
God, he loved baseball. Anticipating the pitch. Running for base. Seeing the girls at the edge of the field jump up and down, giggling, and clapping their hands. Especially the girl in the dark green skirt. Moments like those, he could just about forget he was surrounded by barbed wire.
But as his heartbeat settled, he watched his teammate at bat.
“Strike one.”
The cry of a hawk drew his gaze up to where it circled in the sky, far above the barbed wire, beyond the boundaries of Santa Anita.
“Strike two!”
Nobu mumbled. “Come on, man. Open your eyes and hit the ball!”
“Strike three! You’re out.”
Damn! Nobu kicked dirt up and headed infield. He watched Kazu and his teammates run to the bench, arms waving in victory. Five to four. So close this time!
He flipped Kazu’s hat off. “Good game.”
Kazu grabbed his hat from the dusty ground and slapped it against his jeans. “Better luck next time.”
“Hey,” Nobu said, flagging Kazu in closer.
“What?”
He grabbed Kazu’s jacket and pulled him even closer. “See that girl over there? The one in the green skirt?”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“I saw her cheering when I made the run to first base. You know her?”
Kazu flashed a sly grin and shoved Nobu. “Got a crush on her? Yeah. I know her. What’s it to you?”
“Just give me her name.”
“Yuki. Her name is Yuki Kobayashi.”
“Thanks.” Nobu grabbed his duffle. “Gotta go.”
“Hey, you want to meet her?”
“Another time. I have to get Sachi and Mama for dinner.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Nobu waved as he left the ball field. “Yeah. Same time, same place.”
It was great having Kazu at Santa Anita. Having a friend to talk to made the days tolerable. A friend to do things with—things that would take his mind off his anger. A friend who understood what it was like not to have a father around.
And maybe now he might strike something up with Yuki. Yuki. He liked that name. It suited her, cute and perky. All he had to do was figure out a way to talk to her.
Hot wind whipped through the rows of stalls, stirring up dirt that stung his skin and settled like grit in his eyes. He held his hand over his face to shield from the blowing dust and bright sun.
The flowers Sachi had planted in front of their apartment caught his attention. The red petunias had been so bright, but now in the heat, they’d begun to fade and wilt. He’d water them for her after dinner.
When he walked inside, he rubbed the grit out of his eyes and tried to adjust to the darkness in the room. A blurry silhouette sat on the bed.
He blinked to focus. “Hi, Mama. Are you and Sachi about ready to go to dinner?”
She replied softly, “Sachi is still out playing.”
He sat next to her. “Everything okay?”
“Read this,” she said and gave him a sheet of paper she held.
He carried it to the lamp in the corner and read out loud. “Notice to family number 13754 …” He hesitated to continue reading and glanced at his mother.
“Go on,” she said.
He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled. “Effective September 25, 1942, members of your immediate family are to report to the administration building for relocation to Rohwer, Arkansas.” Resting his head against the wall, he began to bang against the wood planks. That meant leaving his friends. Kazu. His ball team. Yuki. “You mean we have to move again? Why can’t they let us stay here?”
Mama shook her head. “We knew this was temporary and that we would have to leave within a few months. We have watched families board the buses every day.” She lowered her head into her hands. “But Arkansas?”
Nobu crumpled the notice and threw it on the floor before going to his mother. He struggled to draw strength. Touching her shoulder, he whispered. “It’s okay, Mama. At least we’ll be together. We did okay here. We’ll do okay in Arkansas. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“I am not hungry. Perhaps later. Please find Sachi and go without me.”
“I’ll bring something back. You okay?”
“I am fine. Go on now.”
It was a relief to leave that room, to leave Mama. He wasn’t sure how long he could be in control.
He stepped outside and fought the urge to slam the door. Anger surged inside and he tore away, running fast and hard as if racing to beat something ready to erupt—a scream he didn’t want Mama to hear.
Then it escaped, one long cry of frustration that echoed through the camp. Residents in nearby stalls peeked through doors but quickly shut them again when Nobu slowed and shot an angry glare. He darted off, not sure where to go. He didn’t want to face Sachi, couldn’t be strong for her, too.
The baseball field. He could be alone there.
He dropped into the dugout and caught his breath. Inside, he wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t allow it. Boys cried. Men didn’t. He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve before taking his journal out of his jeans pocket.
September 20, 1942
We’ve just learned we are to be moved to another “camp”—no, a prison—in Arkansas. We’ve been given five days to pack our things. To say our goodbyes.
I’m mad. Again. And I’m tired of feeling like this all the time. It’s a monster that’s eating me up inside. But I can’t help it. Today, after reading the notice, I felt it gnawing in my stomach. The more I tried to hide it, especially from Mama, the madder I became.
What feeds the monster now? Is it that once again, we are not in control of our own lives? That we’re being moved to yet another place? And we could be moved again after that? Or, is it that I had just become accustomed to this place? Is it that with Kazu here, it had almost begun to feel like home, and now home, once again, is taken away from us? And what about Yuki? Finally, I see a girl I can’t wait to get to know. But what’s the use now?
Hell! Words. These are only words, and they don’t come close to describing what I feel inside.
Here. Here is my anger!
He plunged his pen over and over onto the page before scribbling a long, black line through what he had written. Not enough! He stabbed the entry with exclamation marks.
A rock hit the bench next to the dugout and bounced off.
Someone screamed, “Goddammit!”
Nobu peered out of the dugout and saw Kazu at the edge of the field, throwing rocks like fast balls at the bench.
“Hey, hold on!” Nobu yelled, rushing out. “You trying to hit me or something?”
Kazu turned away and Nobu saw him breathe deeply.
“Hey,” Nobu said. “What’s wrong?”
Kazu glared at him. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. We’re being sent to goddamn Arkansas in five days.”