Hitomi and Naoki come back. Hitomi says, “The next bus isn’t for four hours.”
“We can go in the donkey cart,” Carolina says, popping up beside us again. “It’s cheaper than the bus—one fare for all of us. And faster, because the donkey can go on a direct path.”
The donkey owner nods at us.
“I wonder if that’s what people around here call a taxi,” I whisper to Aiko.
“The ambassador and his wife will be surprised,” she whispers back, and we giggle. It feels good not to worry about being seen together by the girls at school. It feels great!
The donkey owner leads the way, and Papà and Hitomi walk behind the cart. Our bundles line the cart, and we children perch on top. We move slowly, and I’m feeling like I could fall asleep to the creak of the wheels, when I hear rushing water. The donkey hoofs clop and the wooden wheels clatter as we cross an old red-lacquered bridge.
“The Daiya River,” calls the donkey owner.
I look over the side of the bridge. It’s a long way down, and the river is fast and noisy. Carolina grabs me with one hand and Aiko with the other. Naoki does the same; we are all connected in a circle. And I’m grinning, even though I can’t bear to look down again.
I’m so glad Aiko’s mother let her come. Her father is in the army in Indochina. But her big brother, Gen, is home, so at least her mother isn’t alone. Aiko’s mother told Papà that Aiko has never been out of the city, so the villa is a wonderful opportunity. She thanked him over and over. We have the whole of summer vacation together, an entire month. Aiko made me promise I won’t tell anyone that she came with me, and I know we have to go back to hiding our friendship in September. But for now we are free.
There’s the villa. Huge! We dump everything in the small corner room reserved for the servants, and dance across a sitting room, a dining room, and a study. One side of the villa faces a lake, with windows and windows and windows. The other side looks out on forest. It feels like we’re animals in the wild. I wish we could go outside, but it’s raining now.
Hitomi goes upstairs to clean the ambassador’s private quarters. Papà is already clanging things around in the kitchen.
“Come see!” Naoki lies on the dining room table. It’s a Western-style table, like in the embassy, with chairs all around. “Come look with me.”
We four lie like paintbrushes in a box and stare up at the ceiling, where airy bamboo poles cross every which way. It seems as though the whole villa could just float away on a breeze if someone opened a door wide.
“A cat.” Naoki points.
“A frog,” says Aiko. “Two!”
“A bunny!” Carolina laughs.
I see them now! The pole crossings make funny shapes. “Like origami animals.”
“Exactly,” says Naoki. “Now you will learn.” He goes to the servants’ room and comes back with squares of colored paper. “Every Japanese person needs to know how to fold paper.”
Carolina and I are not Japanese. I hold my breath and wait. But Naoki doesn’t say anything else. I smile. Naoki has just said Carolina and I are honorary Japanese.
Naoki is a good teacher. Patient, especially with Carolina. Aiko is already excellent at origami. It’s like folding furoshiki into chopstick holders—but more complicated. We fold paper for a long time.
“Look.” Carolina holds up her creation. “What is it, Simona?”
Oh, please let me guess right.
“A fish,” said Aiko. “With a fine tail.” I wonder if she was listening as Naoki instructed Carolina.
Carolina smiles. “I made something good. Can we go play now?”
So we count the stones in the fireplace. A gecko runs across the top. Naoki grabs at it, but the gecko gets away. Naoki’s left with a tail in his hand.
“Bad you!” says Carolina.
“The tail will grow back,” says Naoki. “That’s how geckos work.”
“I love geckos,” I say. “They’re cute and quiet and quick, and they eat mosquitoes. Let’s be nice to them.”
We go stand on the porch and watch the rain bounce on the surface of pure, deep-blue Lake Chūzenji.
“The volcano is the lake’s emperor,” says Naoki. “Mount Nantai.”
We look to the right. Beyond the point of land that sticks out into the lake, far, far beyond, Mount Nantai shimmers. Papà told us it’s Japan’s Mount Vesuvius, and it’s important to listen to it. If it rumbles, you run.
“Kegon Falls is out there, too.” Naoki points across the lake to somewhere we can’t see. “With giant waterfalls.”
“Let’s go out onto that platform,” Carolina says. “See it?”
The platform is a big wooden square with a handrail around it. We pick our way carefully down the steps and across the pebble beach. Soon we’re drenched, but the rain is stopping. And it’s warm and lovely as a bath.
Carolina squeezes my arm. “Simona!”
A big monkey comes out from the woods, followed by more, until there are six, with two babies, one on a mother’s back and the other hanging below her. They’re gray with pink faces, and they walk on all fours. One turns, and I see a pink bottom.
They head toward us, cautiously.
“Monkeys are dangerous,” says Naoki.
They’re between us and the house now.
“Here.” Aiko beckons toward a hole in the side of the support under the platform. “Get in, fast.”
We crowd into the dark hole and squat. Carolina squats right behind me. She grabs the back of my shirt.
The big monkey walks up to the opening, and sits on his haunches. The other monkeys settle behind him.
I smell the leader’s wet fur, like rotting tree bark. His golden eyes are beady, sunken into his face. His fur hangs long around his mouth, like an old man’s whiskers. Hair runs all the way down his long fingers to his light gray fingernails. “The leader is looking at me,” I whisper.
“Don’t look back,” whispers Aiko.
“Looking back is a challenge,” whispers Naoki.
I drop my eyes and pick up one of the broken planks that has fallen inward. I hold it with both hands, ready.
An adult makes a coo. I peek. One monkey picks something off another one and eats it. Now all of them are doing that.
Finally they walk away, their short, stumpy tails wagging, and disappear into the woods.