My suggestions for this piece are minor. The first three paragraphs were a little problematic for me, but I put my comments about them at the very end so all of you could form your own opinions. Let me know if you agree with my assessment.
THICKER THAN WATER
Kristen Gwen Johnson
CHAPTER 1—Gotta Pebble in my Shoe
She hated me. For eight years I never knew why my best friend of six years had cut me out of her life. President Roosevelt had isolated the country from the rest of the world, but I didn't have the luxury of an ocean to separate Sumi and me. In 1933, the country had been in the middle of the Depression. Since then the war had been fought on the battle field of my father's store.
To save money, Papa let the young man he'd hired before the stock market crash go and let me work in the store alongside Sumi. We wouldn't have time to play together anymore, but I couldn’t sleep for two days at the thought of working beside my best friend. Four years my senior, she was my confidante and most trusted companion.
After school, I raced to the store, eager to see Sumi and help her stock shelves while I jabbered on about my new teachers and what I had learned that day. No matter what I said, she brushed me off like crumbs from a table. I followed her around for most of the afternoon, and tried to make her laugh with my retelling of the adventures of Little Orphan Annie I had heard on the radio the night before. After several hours of imitating the different voices and retelling the most thrilling and scary parts of the show, she twisted around, put her hands on my shoulders, stared straight into my eyes and said, "You are no longer my friend, Matilda Davis." The first few months after her about-face, I tried to do nice things for her. I made her cookies, swept the store, even had a chocolate coke delivered to her, but she shoved me off.
The words still rung in my head, eight years later, as I trudged along the cold
I arranged the cough drops along the bottom of the basket, making a horizontal line, and staggering the next row to make a miniature cobblestone road. A small distraction from the wrath I was about to endure, but I could control the construction of this road. I couldn’t control Sumi or the feelings she aimed at me.
"Mati?"
I raised my head to see the voice's owner. Mrs. Thomas waved from across the street as she lumbered toward me. A Ford Sedan slammed on its brakes, honked, and swerved to the side to avoid her. She didn't even seem to notice.
"Mrs. Thomas, are you all right?" I waved at the driver in apology as my breath fell into its proper rhythm again.
"Yes, quite all right, Mati. Why do you ask? Oh, never mind, I'm quite well. Does your father have any more canned peaches?" Mrs. Thomas voice made me feel as though I was driving on a hilly road. High. Low. High. Low. It almost gave me motion-sickness every time she spoke. [good description]
She put her cold hand on mine. Bad circulation, which I sometimes thought affected her brain as well. I shivered and patted her hand, then dropped my arm so she would let me go and I could put my hand in my pocket to warm it up.
"I think he just ordered peaches. I'll ask when I get back to the store."
Mrs. Thomas peeked into my basket, sending a swirl of her lilac water scent into my face.
"Oh, medicine? Are you going to Mrs. Cromwell's? I gave her peaches yesterday. That will cure illness quicker than anything." Mrs. Thomas clicked her tongue and waddled next to me, swaying from side to side like a tottering wind-up penguin. The purse around her wrist swung from side to side. [great characterization]
"No, I'm not going to Mrs. Cromwell's."
"Well, then where? Who else is sick? I should visit them too. I know my presence is a comfort to many."
I wasn't so sure about that.
"I'm going to Sumi Hideki's house. Her parents are ill." I feigned a concerned expression.
My battle with Sumi had been a quiet one. Papa told me to work out our differences in private and not to spread them around. Though dealing with our problems had proven impossible since Sumi ignored all my attempts at friendship.
"She's the Japanese girl your father hired, what, ten years ago? [The "what" sounds a little modern to me.] I told him he'd better be careful. I don't care if she was born in this country, she's still Japanese. I don't trust them. When are you going to come and play my old piano again? I love to hear you play."
Mrs. Thomas had taught me piano until I was twelve. She would dance around the room like a drunken sailor when I had my lessons. I never played very well and she danced about as well as I played.
She twirled in my head, and I was almost tempted to say I'd come, but an afternoon of idle chatter was not worth a half hour of entertainment. "I'm very busy at the store."
"Yes, of course. How old are you now?" Mrs. Thomas took a peanut from her purse and popped it, shell and all, into her mouth.
“I was eighteen in September."
Mrs. Thomas spit the sopping, empty peanut shell out of her mouth and held it in her open palm until we reached another lawn, then she threw the shell near a tree. For the squirrels, she said, though I doubted any squirrel would appreciate an empty, slobbery, peanut shell. Retrieving another peanut, she offered it to me, but I shook my head and winced inside. She dropped it back into her bag with a shrug.
"Growing up so fast. Any beaux?"
"No, not yet." Jack and I hadn't made our promise public yet, and Mrs. Thomas was not going to be the first to know.
She stopped in front of her walkway and yanked my hand out of my pocket, cupping it in her arctic hands. I smiled, but my skin crawled as she touched me with a hand still wet from the peanut shell. [*smiling*]
"Someday. There's plenty of time. Well, I must be going. You have a blessed day, Mati." Mrs. Thomas toddled away and raised a hand to wave before she climbed the steps of her house.
I hurried down the street, wiped my hand off with my handkerchief, and wished I could wash with soap. Rubbing against my coat, I tried to stop my skin from wriggling at the thought of the wet peanut shell. [This last sentence might be overstating the peanut thing just a bit. No real harm leaving it in, though.]
Three blocks to go.
I took in a deep breath, I released it with a sigh of determination, and hurried down the street. Might as well get this over with.
I stopped in front of the sky blue house with white trim. The house seemed large even now, but it was monstrous when I was four. Larger than any of the other houses around it and elevated above street level, the house had an air of superiority. It was a great big block of a house with a large window that displayed the sitting room. Five windows on the second floor seemed to peer over your head like you [sticking with my and I would be best] didn't matter. Wicker chairs with velvet cushions, more useful on a
Though the outside had daunted me, the inside was always full of fun. I had once loved to visit Sumi and pretend the house was ours. The five windows were not so daunting when you [I] gazed from the inside out. We imagined we were damsels in distress guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. When we grew tired of those games, we would climb the oak trees in the back for hours.
I gazed at the house a second more, then rushed past all the memories and traveled one more block to where Sumi and her family actually lived. Sumi's mother worked as a part time cook for the Parkers who lived in the beautiful blue and white house. Her father worked as a handy man for many of the homes on
I climbed the creaky steps, knocked, stepped back, and waited. The door scraped the floor as it opened, and Sumi's green-brown eyes peered out. Her eyes widened, and she closed the door again with a thud, which sent a whoosh of hot air past me. The heat scattered and left me colder than before. [again, great description]
Anger burned down to my fingertips. I dropped the basket on the porch and spun to leave. She couldn't even be civil enough to not slam the door in my face.
As I reached the top step, I heard a jingle followed by some scratching as she slid the chain lock out of its track.
All right, at least she has some manners. I waited for her to present herself as a proper hostess.
The door opened only as wide as her slim body. Heat shot its way around her and hit me in the face. [Since you mentioned the heat before, it may not be necessary to mention it again.] She appeared in her black, knee-length skirt and flowered blouse she wore to work everyday. Her hips cocked, feet bare.
"Matilda." She always used my full name, which I'm not at all fond of. Her voice pickled my ears in the biting tone I think she reserved for me when we were alone. I bristled the instant she spoke and mentally strapped on my armor, ready for battle.
"Good day, Sumi. Papa sent me with some things for your parents." I picked up the basket again and held it out at full-arm length.
"Thank him for
"Thank you." I really was grateful for the invitation, even if it wasn't offered with any warmth from the person. My toes hurt from the cold. I stepped into the balmy house.
"Shoes." She pointed to the row of shoes outside.
I felt my face flush, half embarrassed, half angry with the idea that she had probably asked me in because she knew I would forget my shoes. I stepped outside again, and then reentered the house with stocking covered feet.
Sumi closed the door behind me, and the room felt as hot as summer. No danger of cold feet in this house. As I felt [skip the “I felt” here] sweat trickle down my back under my coat, I almost wished I'd stayed outside.
I surveyed the room, and remembered the layout. Stairs went down to the small basement to Sumi's room. Her china doll probably still sat on the table by her bed. A hall led back to the kitchen. The sitting room was to our left. Everything was as I remembered it, from the umbrella holder near the door, to the African Violets the Parkers had given them still blooming on the entryway table. The rooms were clean, though sparse. Sumi and I had mostly played at the Parker's when Mrs. Hideki worked, but the times I had been here, these rooms had been filled with fun and good food and laughter. The furniture hadn't mattered. Now, even with the heat, the rooms felt cold. [I like the sentiment about the furniture, but placed where it is, it breaks up the thought too much for me. I’d rather see it flow straight from …the rooms had been filled with fun and good food and laughter, to, Now, even with the heat…]
Sumi slid the chain back in its track, then gazed at me as if she expected me to speak. I think she delighted in making me nervous.
Sounds from the sitting room rescued me from our blank stares. Sumi rushed into the room and I moved so I could see the old chaise where her father shook violently as he coughed. Rolling around, he banged his chest with his fist as if trying to dislodge something.
Sumi glanced back at me and scowled. My face must have revealed my discomfort because Sumi grabbed the cough syrup and shoved the basket against me with a face like she'd drunk caster oil. She rushed back to him, and had him drink directly from the bottle, and soon he lay still. She adjusted the blanket and said something in Japanese. He nodded and she kissed his forehead before coming back to where I waited. She had once given me that same look of concern when I had fallen down the stairs to her bedroom.
She tossed the bottle back and demolished my cough drop road and the remembrance of her concern for my scraped knee. Taking basket again, she motioned for me to follow her down the narrow hall into the kitchen.
***
(If that seems to end suddenly, Kristen told me it’s not really the end of her chapter.)
The first paragraph is the most important one in a book. Initially, this one gets off to a good start. The broken friendship, then a mention of the state of the country—very fitting since we see the date at the top. And the
But I was still absorbing that when Kristen mentions 1933 and the Depression, then phrases the broken friendship as a war—when
After the ocean comment would be a good place for the irony of her actually walking to Sumi’s house instead of going into all the backstory. I feel it’s too soon for backstory, and it didn’t really add anything for me. Something could be kept about remembering Sumi’s words, “You are no longer my friend.” Maybe mention that it was a sudden about-face brought on by nothing Mati could see.
What do you think?
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