Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden Page A

the mornings. How do you expect me to teach you, when you can’t take the trouble to come to school like the other girls and sign up properly? Just go back to your place. I don’t want to be bothered with you.”
    The class was dismissed, and Pumpkin led me to the front of the room, where we bowed to Teacher Mouse.
    â€œMay I be permitted to introduce Chiyo to you, Teacher,” Pumpkin said, “and ask your indulgence in instructing her, because she’s a girl of very little talent.”
    Pumpkin wasn’t trying to insult me; this was just the way people spoke back then, when they wanted to be polite. My own mother would have said it the same way.
    Teacher Mouse didn’t speak for a long while, but just looked me over and then said, “You’re a clever girl. I can see it just from looking at you. Perhaps you can help your older sister with her lessons.”
    Of course she was talking about Pumpkin.
    â€œPut your name on the board as early every morning as you can,” she told me. “Keep quiet in the classroom. I tolerate no talking at all! And your eyes must stay to the front. If you do these things, I’ll teach you as best I can.”
    And with this, she dismissed us.
    In the hallways between classes, I kept my eyes open for Satsu, but I didn’t find her. I began to worry that perhaps I would never see her again, and grew so upset that one of the teachers, just before beginning the class, silenced everyone and said to me:
    â€œYou, there! What’s troubling you?”
    â€œOh, nothing, ma’am. Only I bit my lip by accident,” I said. And to make good on this—for the sake of the girls around me, who were staring—I gave a sharp bite on my lip and tasted blood.
    It was a relief to me that Pumpkin’s other classes weren’t as painful to watch as the first one had been. In the dance class, for example, the students practiced the moves in unison, with the result that no one stood out. Pumpkin wasn’t by any means the worst dancer, and even had a certain awkward grace in the way she moved. The singing class later in the morning was more difficult for her since she had a poor ear; but there again, the students practiced in unison, so Pumpkin was able to hide her mistakes by moving her mouth a great deal while singing only softly.
    At the end of each of her classes, she introduced me to the teacher. One of them said to me, “You live in the same okiya as Pumpkin, do you?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said, “the Nitta okiya,” for Nitta was the family name of Granny and Mother, as well as Auntie.
    â€œThat means you live with Hatsumomo-san.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. Hatsumomo is the only geisha in our okiya at present.”
    â€œI’ll do my best to teach you about singing,” she said, “so long as you manage to stay alive!”
    After this the teacher laughed as though she’d made a great joke, and sent us on our way.

 
    Â  chapter five
    T hat afternoon Hatsumomo took me to the Gion Registry Office. I was expecting something very grand, but it turned out to be nothing more than several dark tatami rooms on the second floor of the school building, filled with desks and accounting books and smelling terribly of cigarettes. A clerk looked up at us through the haze of smoke and nodded us into the back room. There at a table piled with papers sat the biggest man I’d ever seen in my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but he’d once been a sumo wrestler; and really, if he’d gone outside and slammed his weight into the building itself, all those desks would probably have fallen off the tatami platform onto the floor. He hadn’t been a good enough sumo wrestler to take a retirement name, as some of them do; but he still liked to be called by the name he’d used in his wrestling days, which was Awajiumi. Some of the geisha shortened this playfully to Awaji, as a nickname.
    As