into a dream, Chiyo settled inside next to the far window. A velvet curtain was drawn back, and she leaned closer to look out at the street.
In her own village, she had rarely ridden in an oxcart. Since leaving, she had traveled in a carriage behind Yamada-san’s beautiful horse and ridden in rickshaws and that huge, noisy train. And now an automobile!
The uniformed man cranked a handle at the front of the car. When the engine rumbled to life, the entire vehicle vibrated. Chiyo vibrated along with it, but from excitement. Sensei sat properly still. She tried to copy him, though she wanted to bounce on the springy seat.
The driver hurried around and climbed behind the steering wheel. In moments, they were rolling smoothly into the street. Chiyo scarcely had time to look at people or into shop windows before they were gone and something even better came into view.
Or something worse. She began to notice posters in many shop windows, posters holding large copies of the newspaper photo. There she was on that corner. And in that window. And again, there!
When they paused at a corner, a young boy on the street pointed through the window. “That’s her! That’s the girl! That’s Chiyo!”
Several other boys ran with him as the car moved on, all of them shouting, “Chiyo-chan! Chiyo-chan!”
“Why are they shouting?” she exclaimed. “What do they want?”
“You have become a celebrity,” Sensei answered. “They want to be close to you.”
“I don’t want to be a celebrity.” What did that even mean? “I’m just a student. I’m nobody, Sensei. They are all mistaken.”
“There is no mistake,” he answered in a serious voice that told her she must listen. “You have become much more than you think, Miss Tamura. Now you must live up to what you have become.”
W hen the mayor’s big car pulled to a stop in front of a large building, Chiyo clenched her hands in her lap. “Why does he want to see me?” she asked Watanabe-sensei, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Do you think he is angry?”
What if Hoshi was right? The mayor might be upset that her picture had taken the place of one that should have been in the paper: a picture of Miss Tokugawa Yukiko. She almost expected to see the ghost of Yukiko’s grandfather the shogun waiting with his sword drawn.
“You have struck a sympathetic chord in people’s hearts,” said Watanabe-sensei. “I believe that is why the mayor wishes to have his picture taken with you.”
That didn’t make sense to Chiyo. Hoshi was right. She was just a girl from a mountain village and always would be. Her cold fingers curled into her palms. “Do I have to meet him?”
Sensei nodded gravely. “Be proud, Miss Tamura. Remember, you are representing Tsuchiura Girls’ School.”
That didn’t make her feel better. That made her feel worse. She did not want to represent Tsuchiura Girls’ School to the mayor of Tokyo. She worried that every word escaping her lips would be the wrong one. Desperately, she asked, “What shall I say?”
Sensei smiled as the chauffeur opened the car door. “You’ll know.”
Chiyo drew in a deep, deep breath and stepped from the car. An aide greeted them with a bow before leading them through a hall busy with hurrying people. Many startled Chiyo by pausing to bow as she came near.
Wondering if they were mistaking her for someone important, she returned their bows. When the aide guided them through an open doorway, the mayor rose from behind a gleaming desk. He hurried forward to offer Watanabe-sensei a Western-style handshake.
Pleasure glowed in his eyes as he turned and bowed to Chiyo. “Welcome, Miss Tamura. Welcome! I am honored by your visit.”
He wasn’t angry, nor was the ghost of a shogun waiting with his sword. She breathed her thanks as she returned the bow.
“Arigatogozaimasu.”
“No, no,” the mayor corrected. “You are the one who deserves gratitude, Miss Tamura. Through your picture, you have shown the
In her own village, she had rarely ridden in an oxcart. Since leaving, she had traveled in a carriage behind Yamada-san’s beautiful horse and ridden in rickshaws and that huge, noisy train. And now an automobile!
The uniformed man cranked a handle at the front of the car. When the engine rumbled to life, the entire vehicle vibrated. Chiyo vibrated along with it, but from excitement. Sensei sat properly still. She tried to copy him, though she wanted to bounce on the springy seat.
The driver hurried around and climbed behind the steering wheel. In moments, they were rolling smoothly into the street. Chiyo scarcely had time to look at people or into shop windows before they were gone and something even better came into view.
Or something worse. She began to notice posters in many shop windows, posters holding large copies of the newspaper photo. There she was on that corner. And in that window. And again, there!
When they paused at a corner, a young boy on the street pointed through the window. “That’s her! That’s the girl! That’s Chiyo!”
Several other boys ran with him as the car moved on, all of them shouting, “Chiyo-chan! Chiyo-chan!”
“Why are they shouting?” she exclaimed. “What do they want?”
“You have become a celebrity,” Sensei answered. “They want to be close to you.”
“I don’t want to be a celebrity.” What did that even mean? “I’m just a student. I’m nobody, Sensei. They are all mistaken.”
“There is no mistake,” he answered in a serious voice that told her she must listen. “You have become much more than you think, Miss Tamura. Now you must live up to what you have become.”
W hen the mayor’s big car pulled to a stop in front of a large building, Chiyo clenched her hands in her lap. “Why does he want to see me?” she asked Watanabe-sensei, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Do you think he is angry?”
What if Hoshi was right? The mayor might be upset that her picture had taken the place of one that should have been in the paper: a picture of Miss Tokugawa Yukiko. She almost expected to see the ghost of Yukiko’s grandfather the shogun waiting with his sword drawn.
“You have struck a sympathetic chord in people’s hearts,” said Watanabe-sensei. “I believe that is why the mayor wishes to have his picture taken with you.”
That didn’t make sense to Chiyo. Hoshi was right. She was just a girl from a mountain village and always would be. Her cold fingers curled into her palms. “Do I have to meet him?”
Sensei nodded gravely. “Be proud, Miss Tamura. Remember, you are representing Tsuchiura Girls’ School.”
That didn’t make her feel better. That made her feel worse. She did not want to represent Tsuchiura Girls’ School to the mayor of Tokyo. She worried that every word escaping her lips would be the wrong one. Desperately, she asked, “What shall I say?”
Sensei smiled as the chauffeur opened the car door. “You’ll know.”
Chiyo drew in a deep, deep breath and stepped from the car. An aide greeted them with a bow before leading them through a hall busy with hurrying people. Many startled Chiyo by pausing to bow as she came near.
Wondering if they were mistaking her for someone important, she returned their bows. When the aide guided them through an open doorway, the mayor rose from behind a gleaming desk. He hurried forward to offer Watanabe-sensei a Western-style handshake.
Pleasure glowed in his eyes as he turned and bowed to Chiyo. “Welcome, Miss Tamura. Welcome! I am honored by your visit.”
He wasn’t angry, nor was the ghost of a shogun waiting with his sword. She breathed her thanks as she returned the bow.
“Arigatogozaimasu.”
“No, no,” the mayor corrected. “You are the one who deserves gratitude, Miss Tamura. Through your picture, you have shown the
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