The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter (5 page)

“We musta surprised it,” he says. “People think deer all gentle, nothin but prey. Well ain't nothin more dangerous than prey on the defense.” He pats me on the arm and gently leads me up the steps to tiptoe past his and my mother's room before he brings me back to my bed. Feel like my head just touched the pillow when it's time to get up for Sunday school. And only when Ma lets out a yelp at breakfast, her hand over her mouth staring at sleepy me and reminding me of the compress on my forehead, do I know for sure it wasn't all a dream.

 

7

“Immediately prior to the crash of '29, Hawaii's commercial growth was staggering. Given its exceptional strategic position, most demonstrably evidenced by the catastrophic events of December 7th, we can expect the territory will benefit profoundly by the influx of capital related to the military industry, propelling it well on the road to full economic recovery, perhaps even eclipsing its astonishing pre-Depression record. And with increased taxes reflecting statehood, Hawaii's economic prosperity would result in prosperity for all of us.”

Lucille stands center stage behind the lectern, opening with our affirmative constructive speech. On this Friday the 20th, the day for which we have been priming and cramming, she assumes the economic angle she has prepared, and I sit on the auditorium stage once again astounded by her eloquence which, in front of an audience, seems to have surpassed even her extraordinary fluency in our practice sessions with Mr. Hickory. Lucille, who I had previously thought of as awkward if not cold and defensive, masterfully rose to the debate challenge, which is as much about maintaining a dignified and composed manner as it is about presenting astute arguments. She is smartly dressed in a crisp white blouse and navy jacket and skirt cutting just below the knee, brown penny loafers. I wear my brown Sunday suit, my sole good outfit. This morning my mother had fussed over my hair to an annoying degree. Megan Riley and Nick Fiore of St. Mary's wear their school uniforms. The four of us are attired exactly as we were when our photograph was taken in the county library Tuesday after school. The picture appeared in yesterday's paper with an invitation to the public. Apparently, we were told, this gender equality is rare in debate competition, when more often than not both teams are wholly male.

There are nearly fifty people in the audience, the spectators somewhat spaced apart. Most of the small crowd I can identify, though the announcement in the paper did seem to bring in a handful of unattached onlookers. My mother is there, and Benja, excused by the high school for this special event. There's Mr. Westerly and Mr. Hickory, and Mrs. Flanagan the cafeteria cook. Lucille's, Megan's, and Nick's parents and a slew of St. Mary's faculty. For them
,
this is the all-important match that will indicate the parochial facility's prowess in official competition. For us
,
our faculty and our families, this is the all-important match. My stung ego regarding the sparse crowd is quickly trounced by relief, an assuaging of my trembling stage fright, only for it to return with a vengeance when five minutes before start time half the school comes flooding through the doors, belatedly excused from classes to pack the place.

When I got home from the photo session, I changed out of my good clothes and came down to the kitchen, where my beaming mother surprised me with a slice of chocolate cake and milk. I sat and ate, her across the table, and gradually she broached the subject. What did I think about B.J. coming with her to the debate competition?

“No.”

“He'll behave himself. If I tell him to be quiet.”

“You don't know for sure.”

“I do. If I
really
tell him. He'd be so proud to see his little brother up there on—”

“He'll act up! Or he'll get loud! He'll get loud when I stand to speak, cheering me or something! And then I'll get all nervous, I'll lose my train of thought and then I'll—”

“O
kay
!” She gently gestured for me to sit back down. “Okay,” she repeated. B.J. entered and spelled “cake” to my mother, a polite request, and she cut him a piece.

“At this time of crisis in our nation,” Megan Riley at the lectern, “it is vital that we pull together. We have grimly observed the countries of Europe falling one by one to Hitler's fascistic metastasis of the continent. But it is imperative that our own borders are secure before we fight to protect those of our allies, and that security is achieved through our solidarity as citizens of a unified democracy. The integrity of such a cohesive front is highly compromised by the anti-American sentiments of Communism. Given the rumored crimson tint of the territory of Hawaii's notorious International Longshore and Warehouse Union, one can only imagine the sort of Soviet party-line politics the
state
of Hawaii would bring to Capitol Hill.”

I had only heard the word “union” once in my house. When I was in second grade I came home from school to find my father having some quiet
tête-à-tête with Mr. Wright from the mill. They were in the living room, and I'd come in through the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. They never noticed me.

“Nex they say Strike,” said my father. “An then the company bring in the scabs, and there I am out of a job.”

“He's gone,” said Mr. Wright. “Nobody asked for no union, nobody sent for no union man, he went back up North where he come from.”

“Five in my family, I got five mouths to feed. They come down here whippin it up, playin, it ain't no game to
us
.”

“The niggers up near Birmingham goin red. You hear that? Communist organizin amongst the damn darkie sharecroppers
before
the Yankee trash come. Lazy black asses thinkin they oughta be paid like a white man.”

“I heard they already been han-pickin the scabs. Just in case.”

“No worry, he done packed up an gone. After we give him a little talkin-to.” Mr. Wright punched his right fist into his left palm, like I'd seen in a gangster picture show Benja snuck me into. The gesture looked funny with those two fingers Mr. Wright lost at the mill, and I covered my mouth lest the giggles give me away.

At the lectern I gaze at the audience, briefly but, as instructed by Mr. Hickory, enough to indicate I have taken in each and every one of them. I inhale silently and deeply.

“There has been much concern expressed by those opposed to Hawaiian statehood that two senators representing the sparsely populated Pacific archipelago would confer disproportionate, and thus unfair, federal political power to the infant state. These presumptions are based on some Hollywood image of remote, secluded islands. Hardly. Hawaii's population according to the 1940 census was four hundred twenty-three thousand, more inhabitants than Vermont, Wyoming, Delaware, and Nevada.” From three-quarters near the back I notice someone has raised his hand in a V for Victory sign for me, and I smile to myself, seeing it's Henry Lee.

After Sunday school this week I went over to his house just for an hour. I knew the rest of the week I'd be too busy, between regular homework and the final crucial preparations for the debate. But Henry Lee had mentioned Sally would be taking Tuesday off for some funeral and had traded with her regular Sunday off, and that Roger always liked to spend Sundays with his mother, so I calculated Roger's presence should add up to an extra nickel. All the debate excitement had not caused me to forsake my Sopwith ambition.

I knocked on the kitchen door. When no one answered I walked in. No Sally, no Roger. Down to the basement.

I stopped still in my tracks. There was Roger playing trains with Henry Lee. And not in Roger's usual half-aloof way.
Really
playing, though never exactly looking at his playmate.

“It's the tragedy of the century,” Henry Lee said.

“A tornado,” said Roger, “is approaching this sleepy town. They hear tell of it wreaking destruction in the next state, but these unsuspecting villagers don't worry. This settlement is in a valley surrounded by mountains, Whoever heard of a tornado jumping a mountain? They laugh and pray for all the prairie dwellers in the twister's path and go to bed. Except for the night owls, students up studying, those people driving around in their cars—”

“Tonguin,” Henry Lee inserted, demonstrating with rapid gymnastics of his own tongue.

“The last chance for these naïve citizens to take their families on a pleasant leisurely evening drive-around before the rations outlaw sightseeing.”

“Hookers! Streetwalkers!”

“Others are alone in their cars, just speculating about life. Looking for the Milky Way. Or thinking one day they'll build a rocket to the moon, they'll walk on the moon which is cold and soft and peaceful.”

“But back to the tragedy.”

“It would appear nothing could interfere with this idyllic night. But lo, danger lurks in the distance. Even the train thinks it's safe, it'd pull over usually, hold off until the minor storm passed—”

“Wait a minute.”

Roger looked up.

“What're you talkin about? the train. The tornado is
not
knockin over the train. The train's expensive, she'd
kill
me. The tornado can mess with the cars and the people but nothin touches the Southern Railway.”

“After I graduate I'm hopping the trains.”

“Me too!” Henry Lee seemed delighted to find this element of kindred spirit in Roger. Neither of them had yet looked in my direction but I knew damn well they were aware I was standing there.

“I'm gonna be on the bum, out to San Francisco. I'll dip my feet in the bay. I'll drive the city bus.”

“They won't let a colored drive the bus.”

“They'll let
me
. Then on up to Seattle. And cross over: Vancouver.”

“They let colored in Canada?”

“Yes!”
As if it were the most moronic question ever, but Henry Lee seemed to take no offense.

“I'ma hop the trains too. Maybe we can hop em together. I can go to Canada. Bonn jore.”

“
West
Canada! They don't speak French in the West!”

“Roger.” His mother calling from the top of the steps.

“Ma'am?”

“Think it's about time you started your homework.”

Roger sighed, and for the first time his eyes rested directly on me. I held several books in my hand, ready for rental. I had lugged them to Sunday school and back just for this moment. He stood and gloomily ascended the stairs, passing right by me without comment. The door above closed behind him.

“Jesus!” Henry Lee slammed a fire truck down, still not looking at me. “He don't like to
always
be the student. The minute he havin any fun:
Roger!
” I was wholly undecided whether at the moment I hated Roger or Henry Lee more.

“You got the cards?” I suddenly wanted to whip Henry Lee's ass in twenty-one. We had both grown a bit tired of the trains as of late, though he sure seemed to have been having a jolly ole time with Roger. We sat on the floor. We never played for money. Henry Lee had suggested it many times. I told him my mother wouldn't let me, gambling she considered a sin. For truth, I was just suspicious Henry Lee would cheat.

“You goin to college?” he suddenly asked. I nodded though it seemed doubtful.

“Not me. I'm hoppin the trains.”

“Hit me.” By this point, he must have glimpsed the bandage on my head from the deer attack, but far be it from him to have acknowledged it.

“Unless I could go to college with Roger.” His face brightened. “Yeah, I could go to a colored school. How hard could it be to graduate from there? And they couldn't cry cuz their son didn't get the damn degree. Wouldn't they love it! Now
that
'd be worth it, look on their faces. Their only child: proud graduate a Sambo U!”

“The U.S. has various protectorates,” affirms Nick Fiore, “and any one of these could apply for statehood. But there is one major liability that distinguishes Hawaii, a domain bringing together multiple cultures owing to the immigrant plantation workers. Nearly forty percent of Hawaii's inhabitants are of Japanese descent.
Forty percent!
It could be argued that Pearl Harbor was such an easy target because the Japanese most likely had spies that had traveled there,
legally
, many times.”

I think of how our flat maps, U.S. to the left and Japan to the right, make it seem like we are the world apart, when all you have to do is fold it and see Japan practically kisses Hawaii. I think about when I came downstairs this morning in my suit, passing my father hidden behind his newspaper, the headline:

JAPANESE CONTAINMENT

PRESIDENT
SIGNS EXECUTIVE ORDER 9066

My mother chatted away in the kitchen, oiling my hair. Pa could have traded with somebody to get off today, but apparently he chose not to. For all I know he might have already had the day off and traded to make sure he was
on
. Then I heard the front door open and close, him gone to the mill for the day.

“Where's B.J. gonna be?”

“Takin him over to Aunt Pearlie's. She's makin her apple crumb pie he likes, he won't even need to know anything went on.” She pats my hair. “Okay, you're done. Lemme fix you a plate.”

“I don't think I can eat.”

“You
better
eat. Your pa give up both his bacon strips so you could have four.” I stared at her. She smiled. “He said you'll be the one needin the energy today.”

“My full name,” our opponent continues, “is Nicostrato Giovanni Fiore. A mouthful.” The audience laughs, and he smiles. “My parents came here from Naples, the land of our current enemy. But as you can see, I have fully assimilated. My brother Ludo volunteered for the army, flew overseas two days ago. We are not certain where he is right now. He could very well wind up killing a distant cousin. This war is a catastrophe, but not one of our making. It is the brainchild of a few mad despots-in-arms, namely Hitler, Hirohito, and Mussolini. But my brother, my parents, my entire family. We are Americans. We have happily dived into the Melting Pot.