Jimmy's Stars Read online

  About Jimmy’s Stars

  Ellie counted the days on the kitchen calendar. October 2nd was a Saturday. Twenty-one days until Jimmy had to go. That was a long time. Maybe the war would be over by then. But the days slipped by as fast as the trees shed their leaves. And the war didn’t end.

  Ellie hates the stars proudly displayed in her neighbours’ windows: a blue one for every man gone to serve in the war, a gold one for every man who will never return. She doesn’t want a star – all she wants is for her big brother Jimmy to stay safely at home. But then Jimmy is called up, and Ellie can only desperately hope that his star never turns gold.

  For my beloved aunt and uncle, Agnes Smith Neofes and Jim Smith, and my mother, Frances Smith Rodman

  Contents

  About Jimmy’s Stars

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Discover Yankee Girl

  Discover Under a War-Torn Sky

  Discover Across Enemy Seas

  More from Usborne Fiction

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  The two people Ellie McKelvey hated most were Adolf Hitler and Victoria Gandeck. Hitler lived in Germany, but Victoria was just across the alley. And right now, Ellie hated Victoria more.

  After all, it was Victoria’s fault.

  Ellie had been minding her own beeswax, thinking about the arithmetic homework she needed to do before the end of lunch hour. Then, as she crossed the schoolyard, sucking peanut butter from her teeth, Victoria yelled that horrible word. “Slacker! Ellie’s brother is a yellow-bellied slacker!”

  The next thing Ellie knew, she was sitting outside the principal’s office with bruised knuckles and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Victoria was sprawled in the chair beside her, a bloody hanky to her nose, outstretched legs taking up half the room.

  She’s going to have a shiner, Ellie thought with satisfaction. But then I probably will too. She rubbed her sore scalp. Victoria had jerked her to the ground by her braids. She wondered if this was what getting scalped felt like.

  Dust swirled in the sunbeams streaming through the office windows. It was a blue-sky-good-things-will-happen kind of day, more summer than September. TODAY IS FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1943, said the Pittsburgh School Supplies calendar next to the window. Too nice a day to be in trouble.

  B-r-r-r-i-n-n-n-g. The bell ending lunch hour.

  Trampety tramp tramp tramp. Four hundred pairs of feet marched in line, down the hall, past the open door of the office. When the line paused for a minute, two little girls giggled, pointing at Ellie and Victoria.

  “You’re in trouble, you’re in trouble,” one girl sing-songed.

  “I didn’t know big girls got sent to the principal’s office,” said the other. Ellie threw them a dirty look. Ellie McKelvey didn’t get sent to the principal’s office.

  Until today.

  Ellie swung her feet back and forth, wishing the principal would hurry up. And then again, hoping she wouldn’t. Who knew what happened in the principal’s office? Everyone who had been there said it looked like a dungeon.

  “Hey, you kicked my chair,” said Victoria, voice muffled by the hanky over her nose.

  “Did not,” said Ellie.

  “Did too. Keep your dumb old feet to yourself.” She elbowed Ellie.

  “Cut that out.” Ellie gave her an elbow back.

  “Aw, your mother wears army boots,” sneered Victoria. “And your brother don’t.”

  Ellie jumped up, fists clenched. “You take that back.” Ouch! She glanced down to see playground cinders sticking to her bloody knees.

  “Oh yeah? Says who?” Victoria’s knees were bloody, too.

  “Says me!”

  “Oh yeah?” Victoria sprang out of her chair, dropping the hanky and grabbing a fistful of Ellie’s blouse. Victoria’s brown eyes narrowed with meanness.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Victoria’s other hand froze in mid-air. Behind the frosted glass door labelled MISS DEETCH, PRINCIPAL, somebody had just gotten three licks with the principal’s special paddle. A bed slat, Ellie had heard, drilled with holes for greater stinging power.

  Again, thwack, thwack, thwack. Then footsteps crossing the floor. Victoria let go of Ellie’s blouse just as the door creaked open. Two boys slunk out, rubbing their backsides.

  “Girls!” The principal’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Into my office, please.”

  Ellie and Victoria slouched past Miss Deetch, into the dungeon.

  Doomed, thought Ellie as the door clicked shut. At least we won’t get paddled. Only boys got The Paddle. But then girls didn’t get sent to the office, either. Especially not sixth-grade ones.

  Miss Deetch seated herself at a desk the size of a battleship. Sunlight caught something sparkly on her dress lapel. A rhinestone eagle, with an American flag in its beak. Ellie had seen Miss Deetch every weekday since kindergarten: in the schoolyard, in assembly, standing in the front hall at dismissal. In all those years, she had never seen her wear any kind of jewellery, let alone something as big and gaudy as this pin.

  The principal did not ask the girls to sit. Trying not to stare at the flashing red, white and blue rhinestones on Miss Deetch’s chest, Ellie focused on the rug beneath her saddle shoes. Under the cool and tidy demeanour of the woman across the desk, she felt rumpled and sweaty. Miss Deetch, she was quite sure, never sweated.

  “Well, girls, this is not an auspicious beginning to the school year. What do you have to say for yourselves?” Without waiting for an answer, Miss Deetch forged on. “Girls fighting on the playground! And sixth graders at that! It’s disgraceful – certainly not what I expect from young ladies.”

  Miss Deetch seemed to be talking to the air over their heads, so Ellie felt safe to look around. No whips. No shackles. No thumbscrews. The office smelled like mothballs and dusty books.

  “…McKelveys and Gandecks have gone to school here for generations…”

  Ellie wished that Miss Deetch would just get to the point and tell them their punishment.

  “…never a moment’s trouble. Good, conscientious students…”

  Ellie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and hoped she was missing arithmetic. She glanced up. Now Miss Deetch was talking to her hands, steepled before her on the desk.

  “…and you, Victoria. Four brothers in the service…”

  Victoria sighed, and Ellie felt a flash of sympathy. She could tell Victoria didn’t like being compared to her brothers any more than Ellie liked being compared to her sister, Sal, and Jimmy. Then she remembered – Victoria was her enemy.

  “Now to the facts of the matter,” Miss Deetch said, looking at the girls. “Who started this?”

  “She did!” both girls shouted, pointing to each other.

  “Moderate voices, please. And one at a
time. Victoria?”

  “She hit me first. Punched me right in the nose.”

  “Eleanor?” Miss Deetch raised her eyebrows. “Is this true?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But she called my brother Jimmy a slacker.”

  “Well he is a slacker!” huffed Victoria. “I don’t see a uniform on him.”

  “He has a deferment.” To Miss Deetch, Ellie explained, “On account of Pop breaking his leg last winter, so he couldn’t walk his mail route. Jimmy was the only one working at our house, so he couldn’t get drafted. He’s no slacker.”

  “Your pop’s been back at work for months,” said Victoria. “Jimmy’s a slacker, all right. And me with four brothers in the service. Frankie and Buddy and Hal and George. Buddy and Hal are in the Pacific and George is—”

  “That is enough, Victoria,” said Miss Deetch. Ellie snickered to herself. Once Victoria got going on her glorious brothers, all Marines, there was no shutting her up.

  Miss Deetch peered over the top of her spectacles. “Let President Roosevelt and the War Department worry about Eleanor’s brother.”

  “But she hit me,” Victoria whined. “First.”

  “Yes, and it looks like she got the worst of it.” Miss Deetch’s thin lips twitched in an almost-smile. “Victoria, you were wrong to say such a thing.”

  Ellie shot a so-there look at Victoria. Victoria scowled.

  “But Eleanor, you were equally wrong in striking her. ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath,’ it says in the Bible. And you, Victoria.” Miss Deetch levelled a look her way. “The Bible also says that you should turn the other cheek.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but then my other cheek would’ve gotten smacked, too,” Victoria protested.

  “Victoria Gandeck!” roared Miss Deetch. “Holy Scripture is not to be made light of.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Victoria bowed her head. You don’t fool me, thought Ellie.

  Miss Deetch rose from her chair. “Girls, shake hands and apologize.”

  “Is that all?” Victoria blurted out. “Ma’am,” she added hastily.

  Miss Deetch twitched her almost-smile again.

  “There’s enough fighting in the world. We must think before we strike.” The principal fingered the eagle brooch. “You are two of a kind, Eleanor and Victoria.”

  “What?” said both girls, forgetting to use their moderate voices.

  This time Miss Deetch actually smiled. “What I mean is that you are both proud of your brothers.”

  “Humph,” grunted Victoria. “She can keep her old slack…brother. My brothers are heroes.”

  “And my brother is right here, not off in some jungle fighting the Japanese,” said Ellie.

  Miss Deetch sighed. “I would say you two should avoid each other, but you are neighbours,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ellie volunteered. “Across-the-alley neighbours.” She twiddled her skirt hem, and noticed it was torn.

  “Then shake hands, and apologize,” said the principal, coming from behind her desk.

  The girls touched hands quickly and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Very good,” said Miss Deetch. “Now go to the washroom and clean up before you go back to class. We don’t want to give Miss Granberry a fright.”

  Victoria beat a hasty exit out the frosted-glass door. Ellie started to follow, but Miss Deetch held up a hand.

  “One at a time, Eleanor.”

  Alone with the principal, Ellie tried not to squirm. The room hummed with quiet, so Ellie said the first thing that came to mind.

  “That’s a nice pin you’re wearing, Miss Deetch.”

  Miss Deetch continued to look at her.

  “It’s real patriotic and…and…”

  “Thank you, Eleanor.” But Miss Deetch’s chin quivered, eyes blinking rapidly. Ellie realized, to her horror, that the principal was about to cry.

  “Did I say something wrong, Miss Deetch?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”

  The principal cleared her throat and forced a smile. “It’s not your fault, my dear. The pin was a gift from my nephew in the service.”

  “Oh,” said Ellie. “Where is he now?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t.

  “He’s a prisoner of the Japanese. We do not know exactly where. We haven’t had word in some while.” She stroked the brooch. “Cherish this time with your brother, Eleanor. You don’t know when he’ll be called into the service.”

  Miss Deetch squared her shoulders, and in her usual principal’s voice said, “Run along and wash up now. And no dilly-dallying on the way to class.”

  Ellie scuttled off to the girl’s washroom, still arguing in her head with Miss Deetch.

  You’re wrong, Miss Deetch. By now, the draft board has forgotten all about Jimmy.

  But even to Ellie, her thoughts sounded as hollow as the feeling in her stomach.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ellie had not missed arithmetic after all. And Miss Granberry did not forget the unfinished homework.

  “Eleanor, please remain in your seat,” she said when class was dismissed for the day.

  Ellie’s best friend, Stan Kozelle, shot her a sympathetic look on his way out the door. Victoria gave her a look, too. One that said, “Ha ha, you’re staying after school on a Friday.”

  Miss Granberry marched down the aisle like Grim Death in her rusty, black sateen dress. Though shorter than most of her students, she was not a person to trifle with.

  “Eleanor, I expect homework to be done at home. If not, you will do it here, after school.” Miss Granberry didn’t sound mad. She sounded matter-of-fact.

  Ellie didn’t feel matter-of-fact at all. She thumped open her arithmetic book and tried to focus on the endless rows of long-division problems. Through the open window, she heard the ka-chung ka-chung of skates on concrete. Who still had a pair of skates? Everyone Ellie knew had given theirs to the Junior Commandos’ scrap metal drive.

  Erase, erase, erase. Ellie blew eraser crumbs from her paper, wishing the answers would magically appear.

  They didn’t.

  Out on the playground, a softball game was in progress. Every inch of Ellie longed to be out there, running bases in the afternoon sun.

  “Hey, batter batter batter.” Victoria’s outfield chatter didn’t help Ellie’s mood. Perfect arithmetic papers marched across the bulletin board, each with a red 100 and a gold paper star. Four of those papers had Victoria’s name at the top. Ellie gritted her teeth and burrowed into the next row of problems. At last, Ellie dropped the much-erased assignment on Miss Granberry’s desk.

  “Thank you, Eleanor,” said the teacher. “Have a pleasant weekend.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You, too.” Ellie scuttled down the silent hallway. A small flag with a blue star fluttered on Mrs. Miller’s fourth-grade door as she passed. Mrs. Miller’s husband was in the Navy.

  At the top of the stairs Ellie eyed the broad banister, the shiny, varnished wood. Jimmy told her he had slid down that banister once…and smack into Miss Deetch.

  “What’d she say?” Ellie had asked.

  Jimmy chuckled. “She said, ‘James McKelvey, whatever possessed you?’”

  “And you said…?” Ellie prompted.

  “‘Beg pardon, Miss Deetch. But sometimes you have to let the joy out.’”

  Joyful was not how Ellie felt after spending the better part of Friday afternoon in school. An escaped convict was more like it, a fugitive from Miss Granberry’s chain gang. She bounded down the steps two at a time, landing with a thud at the bottom and face-to-face with the War Bond poster next to the principal’s office. A Jap soldier with an evil smile aimed a bayonet straight at Ellie. DEFEAT THE ENEMY, screamed the blood-red lettering. BUY WAR BONDS AND STAMPS.

  The poster always made Ellie wonder. The only Japanese people she knew had run the game stands at West View Park. Small, gentle folks, who talked little, but smiled when a child won a Kewpie doll or a West View pennant. They went away every autumn, when the park closed, and reappeared in the s
pring. Ellie imagined that, like the birds, the park people went south for the winter. But that first spring after Pearl Harbor, they hadn’t returned. Now, high school boys ran the Ring Toss and Shooting Gallery. What happened to the Japanese? Could they, those quiet people at West View, be the enemy, like the poster soldier? When did they become Japs?

  It’s Friday, Ellie scolded herself. Time’s awastin’.

  Outside, the ballgame was already over, the schoolyard deserted. After four, Ellie guessed from the shadows slanting across the asphalt. The sky still blared a clear, hot blue, unusual for the North Side. It didn’t take much for the steel-mill smoke from the South Side to blow their way, darkening the sky even on the sunniest of days.

  Ellie trudged up Macken Street. Past the Jelineks’ house with the peeling paint. The Hales’, who owned the butcher shop. Past the Schmidts’ tidy brick with crayon-coloured flower beds. The green-shingled Gandeck house, across the alley from Ellie’s. Service flags, like the one on the fourth grade’s door, hung in many doors and windows.

  “A star for each family member in the service,” Jimmy had told her when they first appeared after Pearl Harbor. “Blue for the living. Gold for the dead.”

  A blue star in the Jelineks’ window. Four blue stars on the Gandecks’ front door. Gold on the Schmidts’. Japs had torpedoed Bill Schmidt’s ship. When she first saw the gold stars, Ellie had decided they were bad luck. Now she crossed her fingers and spat in the gutter, taking the curse off Bill’s gold star.

  Coming to her own house, Ellie spied the loaded clothes line in the backyard. Everybody else did wash on Mondays, but not Mom. “Why would I ruin the start of a week by doing the wash?” she always said. Right this minute, she was probably in the cellar, running the wringer or ironing, and listening to the portable radio.

  Ellie poked a cautious head through the back door. “Mom?” Cans of salmon and peas on the countertop, noodles boiling on the stove. Ellie knew what that meant – salmon pea wiggle for supper – ick.

  From the cellar, a tenor warbled a love song. “Down here,” Mom’s voice came back faintly.

  “I’m home,” Ellie shouted over the thump-thump-thump of the washer and “Indian Love Call”. She peeked in the hallway. Empty. Good. If Sal were home, she would be sprawled on the floor of the phone nook, yakking on the phone to one of her birdbrain friends. Late as it was, Ellie thought Sal might have beaten her home from high school.