Suki’s Kimono

On the first day of school, Suki wanted to wear her kimono. Her sisters did not approve.

“You can’t wear that,” said Mari. “People will think you’re weird.”

“You can’t wear that,” said Yumi. “Everyone will laugh, and no one will play with you.”

“You need something new, Suki.” “You need something cool.”

But Suki shook her head. She didn’t care for new. She didn’t care for cool. She wanted to wear her favorite thing. And her favorite thing was her kimono.

Suki’s obachan had given her the kimono. The first time Suki wore it, her obachan took her to a street festival where they slurped bowls of slippery, cold somen noodles and shared a cone of crunchy, shaved ice topped with a sweet red bean sauce.

Under strings of paper lanterns, Suki joined her obachan in a circle dance. She followed her and copied her movements, trying to be as light and as graceful. She watched the other women and children who danced, especially those who were dressed in cotton kimonos like her.