Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

I tell the girls that I’m sure Anzu would want her book back… and the picture. But how are we supposed to track down someone we have never met? Nanea and I blurt the same question at the very same instant. “What would Nancy Drew do?” We shout “Jinx!” on top of each other and collapse into giggles.

After we’re done laughing, I settle on interviewing witnesses, since a neighbor donated the book by mistake. Nanea reasons its owner, Anzu Sato, must live nearby if her book wound up on this porch.

Just as we’re about to head off, Nanea freezes on the steps, insisting we need a notebook to record the facts. Lily ducks inside and returns with one, plus a pencil, which I happily claim. Lily leads us toward the first house, Nanea handling the interviewing while I scribble down each neighbor’s name and what they tell us. But a full block later, we still haven’t got anything new. Nobody on this street knows an Anzu Sato.

Back on the porch, we regroup to reconsider what we actually know. Maybe the book never belonged to anyone on this street in the first place. I recall that it was on the bottom of the pile. Maybe it slipped in through the Honolulu Helpers’ donations instead. Nanea claps her hands at the idea. If we call every girl in the club, she reasons, somebody is bound to recognize the name Anzu.

Mrs. Suda lets us borrow her telephone, a clunky black contraption with a dial that spins. We work through the Honolulu Helpers one by one. Judy doesn’t recognize the name, and Bernice isn’t at home. That leaves Audrey, the one club member I have actually gotten to know. Her mother answers in a thick accent before Audrey’s soft voice comes on the line. I lay out our mystery: a lost Nancy Drew book, a photograph, a girl named Anzu. The line goes silent.

For a second I assume we got disconnected, until I realize she is actually crying. She asks, in a small voice, whether she can come over, and I hang up sensing our mystery has only deepened.

Sure enough, Audrey turns up about fifteen minutes later, her eyes red and cheeks streaked with tears. Settling onto the steps beside us, she draws a shaky breath and confesses she knows exactly who Anzu Sato is. The girl in the mystery, it turns out, is her.

Audrey explains she changed her name after the war started, though her voice fades before she finishes telling us why. Lily, nodding in understanding, fills in that Audrey is Japanese, like her, and wraps an arm around her shoulders. I seem to be the only one still lost. Nanea explains that Japanese folks are being treated very poorly since the war began. Many Japanese men on the island were arrested on suspicion of spying, Mr. Suda included. He, alongside others, was shipped to a detention camp called Sand Island. Mr. Suda made it home eventually, but others are still gone.

Audrey’s tears start again as she admits her own father is at Sand Island, and that her family fears he might be shipped to the mainland. They’re being treated like the enemy in their own home. That is why her mother insisted on changing their names. Her mom doesn’t wear her kimono anymore, and nobody speaks Japanese at home anymore.

Hearing Audrey’s story turns my stomach, and my thoughts drift back to her father. When I slide the photograph free and ask if the man is him, Audrey nods. It’s the two of them together. Clutching the photo tight against her chest, she grabs the book, and thanks us for tracking it down before starting off down the sidewalk.

I scramble after her and tell her that I love the name Anzu; it sounds unique and beautiful. That earns a small smile, and she tells me it means apricot. Her father picked the name out. Her expression darkens again almost at once. But Audrey is better now, she states flatly, and walks away.