Samurai Summer (9 page)

Then I fainted.

“Nice trick!”

I wasn’t spinning anymore. I opened my eyes and I was lying in my bed in the dormitory. It was Sausage’s voice I heard.

He and Janne were sitting on the edge of the bed, but I didn’t see any counselors.

“I think you scared them,” Sausage continued.

“It wasn’t a trick,” I said.

“It wasn’t?”

“I must have gotten dizzy from not eating for a day,” I said.

“It was good anyway.”

“Matron came running in,” said Janne.

“Did they carry me here?”

“No, you walked by yourself. You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“You didn’t fall off the chair or anything.” Sausage wanted to show that it was nothing to worry about. “You just fell forward.”

“Where’s the oatmeal?” I asked.

I looked around, but it didn’t seem to have followed me up to the dorm.

“They took it,” said Sausage.

It was still light outside, but the sun had probably seen enough for today.

“I guess they’ll be sending me away now,” I said.

“I don’t think they’d dare,” said Janne.

“What do you mean?”

“Children fainting at camp because they’re not getting enough to eat? Just imagine if you go and tell someone that.”

I nodded.

“Nice trick!” said Sausage.

The shadows had grown longer everywhere. I didn’t know how much time had passed. I didn’t know what to do. Should I get up or stay in bed? I shut my eyes again. Maybe I should try to get some sleep.

Then I noticed another shadow. I could smell food.

“Tommy?”

I opened my eyes. It was Matron. She was holding a steaming plate in her hand, but I didn’t believe it. I thought I was just imagining the plate.

Just then, a memory shot through my mind like a rocket. I was sick and my mother brought me food in bed. The plate was steaming and it smelled good. Maybe it was pork chops. I remembered that my dad liked pork chops. We had pork chops on Saturdays sometimes—every third or fourth Saturday.

I sat up. It smelled of eggs and ham.

“You’ve got to eat a little, Tommy,” said Matron. “Eat this.”

“What is it?” I asked thinking it was that same old oatmeal she was holding even though the whole room smelled of eggs and ham.

“Ham and eggs,” she said.

The first thing I thought was,
Is it Sunday?
Sunday breakfast in bed.

“I… don’t want any,” I said.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s fresh out of the pan.”

First I thought I’d show off my pride and refuse to accept it. I’d prove that my willpower was stronger than my hunger. Then I thought about how I’d eaten all that other disgusting stuff they’d served before. This didn’t seem disgusting at all. And just because it was Matron who was standing here now with ham and eggs, I decided to take it because that proved I had won this round and they had admitted defeat.

I reached out and took the plate. There was a fork lying on it. The plate was still warm as though it had been in the oven.

Matron left the dormitory—a shadow that disappeared. I could hear her footsteps on the stairs.

“Maybe they’ve been poisoned,” I heard from the bed next to mine. “The eggs.”

Sausage peeked out from under the blanket. I could see how he had trembled while Matron had been standing there. That was the first time she had ever paid a visit to the dormitory in the middle of the night.

“Matron sprayed arsenic on the yolk.”

“Want to try it first?” I asked.

He came over and sat on the edge of my bed.

“Mmm, smells good.”

“Want a piece of ham?”

“Nah, you eat it,” he said, looking a little worried. Maybe he really believed what he had said about it being poisoned.

I put a piece of egg and a piece of ham in my mouth and chewed. It tasted wonderful.

Then the others began to stir. Micke came over to my bed and then Lennart.

“I wonder what this means,” said Lennart.

“Does Matron want to make peace?” asked Micke.

“With me?” I mumbled with my mouth full of food.

“Maybe just for now.”

“Never trust a grown-up,” said Lennart.

Those were the truest words ever spoken. Never trust a
grown-up. It was impossible to figure out why Matron had done what she had done, and right now I couldn’t really think straight. I was starting to feel warm all over my body. When I was really hungry I always felt cold.

“She was scared,” said Micke. “They didn’t dare let you starve anymore.”

“They could have just fried up the oatmeal instead,” said Lennart.

“Mmm,” said Sausage, taking in the smell again. “If this is what you get out of it, then maybe I should refuse to eat.”

“You want those last bits?” I offered, and I pushed the plate toward him. I felt full like I had swallowed a barrel of cement. “It wasn’t poisoned.”

Sausage gobbled up the piece of egg in half a second. You’d think it was the first time he’d eaten a fried egg.

“Mmm!”

“So what happens now?” asked Lennart.

“What do you mean?” I asked, and I stretched out my leg, which had started to cramp from balancing the plate on it.

“Does this mean peace?” asked Lennart.

“I certainly hope not,” said Micke.

“Nothing’s changed,” I said, “except that we won this round.”

“Maybe they’ll send you away anyway?”

“It’s a lot of work for them,” I said. “They’re too lazy to organize everything they’d need to get me out of here.”

I pointed at the plate that Sausage was busy licking.

“That was easier.”

“So what happens the next time we refuse to eat?”

“We?” I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. “Did anyone other than me refuse to eat?”

“The next time someone refuses,” said Micke. “You or one of us.”

“They’ll get ham and eggs!” said Sausage.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I said.

The counselor stared at me for a long time when she set down the plate of oatmeal in front of me at breakfast. It was a freshly cooked portion. I wasn’t hungry, but I ate it. It wasn’t the right moment for another refusal. I didn’t see Matron, but I knew she was waiting in the wings. Maybe she was planning her next move. Just like me.

After breakfast I gathered the troop.

“You go on ahead,” I said.

“What for?” asked Sausage.

“Micke, you’re in command,” I said without answering.

The troop had just disappeared into the forest when Ann
and Kerstin came up. It was a close call.

“Guess you don’t want to know the secret anymore,” said Ann.

I knew what she meant.

“I want to know it,” I said.

“You did all right without it.”

“I want to know what you said, Ann.”

She looked at Kerstin. I thought I saw Kerstin smile.

“It’s all about keeping your eyes open,” Ann continued. “Especially at night.”

“Yeah?”

“One night a few weeks ago I heard something outside. It was almost morning and I was already awake. I went over to the window.” Ann pointed across the playing field. “You can see the counselors’ barracks from there.”

“I know,” I said.

“But you don’t know what I saw!”

“No.”

“I saw one of the counselors standing outside the door to the barracks hugging and kissing a man!”

I didn’t say anything. I understood. If Matron heard about it, the counselor would be fired on the spot.

“What did they do then?” I asked.

“Then he left.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was nearly morning, like I said.”

“And you reminded the counselor about that in the mess hall?”

“Yes, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to say anything. I was the only one who saw her that night, and she saw me. She looked up and saw me in the window.”

Ann looked at Kerstin.

“So I didn’t have to say anything to her when I walked over with the dish.”

I thought I saw Kerstin smile again. “I almost didn’t think you were going to start eating,” she said.

She had seen me when I ate my oatmeal.

“You think I gave in?”

“No, no.”

“You die if you don’t eat,” said Ann.

“Or get sent away,” said Kerstin.

“I got something else, too,” I said, and I told them about my Sunday breakfast at night.

“You could have refused,” said Kerstin.

“You think I should have?”

“No,” she said after a short pause. “Then they would have sent you home.”

“What difference would that have made?” I asked without looking at her.

“There’d be no one to show us the castle,” she answered.

“Are we ever going to get to see this castle?” asked Ann. “Or did you just make it up?”

“You haven’t told the others yet, have you?” Kerstin looked at me. “You don’t dare, do you?”

“Aren’t you the leader?” said Ann. “Aren’t you the one in charge?”

“You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?” said Ann and smiled. “Japanese?”

Kerstin didn’t smile. She realized this was not something to joke about.

“
Sei-i tai shogun
,” I said.

“What’s that?” asked Ann.

“It’s Japanese.”

“What does it mean?”

“Great general who fights barbarians.”

“And that would be you?” asked Ann. She looked at my sword implying that she didn’t think it was worthy of a general. “Are you the great general?”

“Come on; let’s go,” said Kerstin. She had started to look worried. She understood. “Let’s just forget about this for now, Ann.”

“What?” said Ann. “I’m just curious. Who are the barbarians, Kenny?”

I didn’t answer.

“Are they the ones who serve you ham and eggs in bed?”

“Stop it!” Kerstin said loudly.

A few of the kids in the courtyard looked up.

Ann turned around and walked off.

“Sorry,” said Kerstin.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but she was with me.”

“Forget it.”

“Guess I’ll never get to see the castle now.”

“I haven’t even seen it myself.” I tried to smile. “Like I said, it’s not finished.”

“What are you going to do with it? When it’s finished?”

“Live in it, of course.”

“What about all this?” she said, and she waved toward the camp, the playground, the grounds around it, the beach, the trees at the edge of the forest, the buildings, the gate to freedom, the kids themselves, the guards, Matron, everything.

“We won’t need all this,” I answered. “None of this is going to be here anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just a feeling I have,” I said.

The forest always felt like a very big place. It went on forever all the way around the world. This forest was connected to other
forests throughout the country, and they continued across all the borders into other countries. This forest was the same forest all the way up to the far northern end of the country, and on into Finland, and then Russia, Siberia, Mongolia, and China. All the way to the sea and up onto the other side of the sea, to the Japanese island of Kyushu. That was the biggest of Japan’s southern islands. There was a forest there. I had seen pictures. I wanted to walk in that forest. I wanted to do it before I grew up.

“How come you know so much about Japan?” asked Kerstin.

She walked next to me in the forest. We were far away from the castle at the other end. I still didn’t know how I would be able to show her the castle. But I was the leader. I wasn’t a
shogun
, but I was a
daimyo
. I had the highest rank, and I could do as I pleased. Whatever I thought was best for us. Anyone in the troop who didn’t like it could leave.

“I can read,” I said in answer to her question, “and look at pictures.”

“Have you got a lot of books about Japan?” she asked.

“I don’t have any, but there are libraries.”

“Why Japan?”

“It’s not really Japan. It’s more the samurai.”

“But they lived in Japan, right?”

“Sure.”

“Are there any left?”

“Sure.”

“You never hear about them,” she said.

“The samurai prefer it that way,” I said.

“How can you become a samurai?” she asked. “You’re not even Japanese.”

“I’m trying to learn,” I said.

“To become Japanese?” Kerstin smiled.

“That, too,” I said.

“Why don’t you go to Japan then?” she asked.

“Good question,” I said.

“I was only joking.”

“It’s no joke. I’m going there.”

She almost looked like she believed me.

“But what’s so exciting about the samurai?” she continued.

“It’s better than this,” I answered.

“This? What do you mean by ‘this’?”

“This. What we’ve got right now,” I said. “Not just the camp but… all of this.” I opened my arms wide to include the forest as part of what I meant. “This… life or whatever you want to call it.”

“Life? Your life?”

“Yeah…”

“You want to escape from what you have, you mean?”

I didn’t answer.

“It’s just some kind of dream you’ve got,” she said. “You can’t just dream about being a samurai.”

“It’s not a dream,” I said. “You’ll see it’s not a dream.”

A samurai was something you were born to; it wasn’t something you were appointed to. Your parents had to be samurai, otherwise you weren’t a proper samurai. But you could sometimes be adopted by a samurai family—if you were worthy of that kind of honor.

That was in Japan. But this was Sweden. Actually, the province where I was living was called Småland. It was in the south of the country, just like Kyushu was in the south of Japan. Småland had sort of been its own kingdom a long time ago. That was because there are lots of mountains and forests here, and that made it difficult for other warlords to attack and plunder. That’s how it was in Japan as well. The terrain on most of the Japanese islands was mountainous and covered in forest, and it was difficult to travel from one area to the next. You couldn’t rule Japan like a single country. Each part of the country, especially the four biggest islands, had their own warlord.

I didn’t think I’d get adopted in Japan. But I could live like a samurai in Småland and learn everything the samurai knew. Not just this summer. Always.