you couldnât ever let anyone see you cry. If you did, the others had to sit on you, as if you were a sack of rice. I thought that if anyone were to start crying, then someone else would follow, and soon enough, weâd all be crying our eyes out and no one would be able to stop. We might go on crying forever, I thought, until we ended up like empty cicada shells, having cried ourselves away entirely.
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I was playing with my metal soldiers at the station one morning when Aiko bustled over. She hovered in front of me for a few minutes, humming away, until, finally, I asked her what was the matter.
She frowned.
âCan people live in holes?â she asked.
âWhat do you mean?â I said.
Shyly, she told me that she had met a teenage girl the day before, who was living in a hole outside the station.
âYou mean the slit bomb shelter?â
There were plenty of single-person earthwork shelters scattered across the city, though none of them had been much use during the fire raids. Theyâd been more like miniature stoves then. You still had to be wary of exploring them, just in case there was a baked, rotten corpse stuck inside.
âWhatâs she doing in there?â I asked.
âShe lives in it!â
âReally?â
Aiko nodded, biting her lip
âIs she nice?â
âSheâs my friend.â
Aiko explained that the girl had been sent to Tokyo from the city of Hiroshima, out on the Seto Inland Sea, in the Chugoko region of Japan. Her mother had packed her off to stay with relatives a few weeks before, but when the girl had disembarked at Tokyo Station, thereâd been no one there to meet her. So sheâd wandered off on her own until she found herself here at Ueno.
The story sounded common enough. There were lost and orphaned kids all over the place now, sent to Tokyo from other towns or returning from far-flung parts of the Japanese Empire. They wandered about forlornly, clutching onto the little white urns that contained their parentsâ remains.
I didnât know much about Hiroshima people, though. Only that the city had been very badly bombed, right before the end of the war. Theyâd been pretty unlucky, I thoughtâjust a few more days and theyâd have made it through.
Aikoâs face was crumpled in sympathy and I could tell sheâd taken a shine to the girl. It was hardly surprising. It couldnât be much fun for her, hanging about with us grimy boys all the time.
âCan she stay with us, big brother?â Aiko pleaded. âPlease?â
I felt a tingle of pride. No one had ever called me big brother before. Maybe it wouldnât be such a bad thing to have another girl in the gang. After all, she could always help Aiko out with the selling work.
âWhy donât you bring her over to meet us later on today,â I said. âIâll make a decision then.â
Aikoâs face lit up and she clapped her hands together. âThank you, big brother!â she said. âThank you, thank you!â
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Tomoko. The name alone was enough to send a delicious shiver down my spine. She wore a blue canvas jacket, a battered water canteen slung over her shoulder. Her hair was cut very short, almost like a boyâs, and fell just beneath her eyes, so she blew it nervously out of the way whenever you spoke to her. Her face was quite round but she was terribly thin from her journey from Hiroshima to Tokyo. She was thirteen years old and as shy as a borrowed cat.
That night, she slept on the floor with us in our corner of the ticket hall, Aiko-chan curled up next to her. Just as I was drifting off, something flicked against my ear. I looked up to see Shin leering over me.
âWhat do you want?â I said.
âI was thinking,â he said, scratching the side of his nose.
âThat makes a change.â
His thick lip trembled. âListen,â he said. âDonât you be so proud. You might have
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley