Hawaii - James Michener [480]
The Sakagawas contributed seventy of those dollars and that night assembled the family. "Reiko-chan cannot go to college," Kamejiro said bluntly. The brilliant little girl, president of the girls' club at McKinley and an honor student, sat primly with her hands in her lap. As a good Japanese daughter she said nothing, but Goro did. "She knows more than any of us. She's got to go to college. Then she can become a teacher and help pay our way."
"Girls get married," Kamejiro rationalized quietly. "Pretty girls get married right away, and the education and income are lost."
"She could promise not to get married," Goro suggested.
"It is boys who must be educated," Kamejiro pointed out, "though why both you and Tadao failed to get yourselves into Jefferson I cannot understand. Are you stupid? Why don't you learn to speak English right?" he fumed in Japanese.
"Please," the gentle girl begged, "you've seen that only the sons of people the plantation leaders like get into the good schools."
Kamejiro turned to look at his daughter. The idea she had suggested was startling to him and repugnant. "Is that right?" he asked.
"Of course it's right," Reiko-chan replied. "And Minoru and Shigeo won't get in, either."
"Nothing wrong with McKinley," Goro snapped, defending the wonderful rabbit-warren of a school where Orientals and Portuguese and indigent haoles went. It was a comfortable, congenial school, arrogant in its use of pidgin even in classrooms, and many of the islands' political leaders graduated from it, even if none of the business tycoons did. A boy could get his jaw broken at McKinley for speaking good English, but he could also get a good education, for the school always contained dedicated teachers who loved to see brilliant boys like Goro prosper.
"Forget McKinley," Kamejiro told his children. "What kind of job can Reiko-chan get that will bring in the most money?"
"Let her work for three years, then Tadao and I can get jobs," Goro suggested, "and she can go on to the university."
"No," Kamejiro corrected. "I have noticed that if boys stop, they never go back. Reiko-chan must work from now on."
It was at this point that the quiet girl almost sobbed, and her brothers saw the involuntary contraction of her shoulders. Goro, a big husky boy, larger than his father, went to his sister's chair and put his hand on her arm. "Pop's right," he said in English. "You'll get married. Pretty girl like you."
"We speak in Japanese!" Kamejiro rebuked. "Sit down. Now what kind of job?"
"I could be a typist," Reiko suggested.
"They pay nothing for Japanese typists," Kamejiro replied.
"Could she work for a doctor?" Tadao asked. He was a slim, wiry boy, taller than Goro but not nearly so rugged. "That's good pay."
"She's got to have training, and we have no money," Kamejiro replied. He waited for a moment, almost afraid to discuss openly what was in his mind. Then he swallowed and said, "I was talking with Ishii-san and he said . . ."
"Please, Father!" the boys interrupted. "Not Ishii-san! If you listen to what he says . . ."
"Ishii-san's a fool," Reiko laughed. "Everyone knows that."
"This family is indebted to Ishii-san," Kamejiro said forcefully. He often used this phrase, but he never explained to the children why they were indebted to the curious little man whose ideas got stranger each year. "And Ishii-san pointed out that the easiest way for a Japanese to make lots of money is ..." He paused dramatically.
"Stealing!" Goro joked in English. His father knew something irreverent had been said, but not what, so he ignored his son.
"Ishii-san is going to lend me the money," Kamejiro explained with nervous excitement, "and I am going to open a small barbershop on Hotel Street where the sailors are. And all the chairs will have girl barbers."
Slowly, as if gripped by a nameless horror, the four boys turned to look at their pretty sister. She sat apart, watching her mother, who was washing rice, but in her silence the color left her cheeks, for she understood that her immediate destiny was