The Harlem Charade

by Natasha Tarpley

  TO HARLEM, PAST AND FUTURE.

  CONTENTS

  Half-title Page

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Author’s Note

  A Note on Events and Locations in the Book

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Harlem, with its stately brownstones, honking horns, and bustling street life, passed in a blur as Jin Yi sprinted the entire ten blocks from school to her grandparents’ bodega. Her student council meeting had run long, and now she was late. Her friend Rose, who was meeting her at the store to work on their history class project, would be arriving any minute.

  Breathless, Jin flung open the heavy front door and rushed inside, where she promptly whacked her knee on the corner of a large box, which was nearly blocking the store’s entrance. Ow, ow, ow!

  “Pretty sure this is a fire code violation!” she yelled to no one in particular.

  Normally, the store was neat and orderly. Halmoni could tell if just one can was out of place on the shelf. Jin’s grandmother had eyes like an eagle. One Wednesday a month, though, on inventory night, the place turned into a labyrinth of boxes and crates full of new merchandise.

  Argh! It was Wednesday. She had completely forgotten about inventory night when she’d invited Rose over to study, and now it was too late to cancel. Jin eyed the stacks of canned vegetables, cereal boxes, and other items waiting to be shelved or stored. Several of her family members usually showed up to help out, but even with the extra hands, she knew they would be here until midnight putting all this stuff away.

  Jin sighed as she limped toward the back of the store, her knee still throbbing like crazy. She bent to rub it and nearly toppled over when her aunt, Ye-Eun, who worked in the store some afternoons, suddenly emerged from one of the aisles.

  “Careful there, kiddo.” She smiled, reaching for Jin’s arm to steady her.

  “I’m okay,” Jin blushed. “I just didn’t see you there,” she muttered.

  “Hard to see anything with all this stuff everywhere. But we’ll get it cleared out tonight.” She rumpled Jin’s shoulder-length black hair. “Oh, and by the way, it’s kimchi day!” she announced with a mischievous wink as she breezed out the door. The word kimchi was still hanging in the air when Jin smelled it—the undeniable and overpowering spicy odor of fermented cabbage, hot peppers, and fish sauce. On kimchi days, Halmoni lugged large Tupperware containers full of kimchi that she had made days ago at their apartment to the bodega so they could jar it and sell it in the store. Halmoni was pretty famous for her kimchi. It always flew off the shelves, so they were constantly filling jars with the stuff—at least it seemed that way to Jin.

  “Ah, Jinnie, you finally here.” Halmoni’s curly black hair, frizzy from years of home perms, popped up from behind the front counter. “Come help with kimchi.”

  “My friend Rose is coming over to do homework, remember? Can I help you with the kimchi later? And, Halmoni, can we, um, keep the lid closed tight on the Tupperware for now? I love your kimchi, but I’m not sure Rose has ever tried it before … ”

  Halmoni took a big whiff from the kimchi-filled Tupperware in front of her. “Anybody don’t like kimchi, don’t need to come to my store.” She tossed her head back proudly. “But okay, we do kimchi later. Go and greet Harabeoji now.” She shooed Jin away.

  “Thanks, Halmoni,” Jin said, walking toward the back of the store. She dumped her bag in the storeroom, then poked her head into the tiny office where her grandfather worked. “Hey, Harabeoji! How are you?”

  Harabeoji grunted but didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. Jin figured he must be doing paperwork for the store, which always made him grumpy. She headed back out front, just as Rose walked through the door.

  “Over here!” Jin waved. “Watch out for the boxes,” she said as she pushed aside a small stack to clear a path. “It’s inventory night.”

  “I’m used to it. Now that my parents’ divorce is official and they’ve sold our apartment, it’s box city at my house, too.” Rose shrugged.

  “I’m really sorry about your parents.” Jin gave Rose a sympathetic smile. “Do you know where you’re going to move?”

  “Not yet. My mom is looking for a new apartment for us. It must be cool to have your own bodega,” Rose changed the subject as she looked around the small store. “Do you get to eat all the chips and the candy bars you want?”

  “Not really. My grandparents are pretty strict about junk food. But I’m sure it’ll be okay with them if we eat some today.” Jin grinned and grabbed a couple of bags of chips from the display near the counter, then led the way to the back room.

  As she and Rose passed his office, Harabeoji, who had fallen asleep in his chair, let out a loud wheeze. “Don’t mind my grandfather. His snore is worse than his bite,” Jin joked, and ducked beneath the clothesline that stretched across the back room, where Halmoni hung her clean aprons, store clothes, and cleaning rags to dry. Jin led Rose to the small table, where she and her grandparents sometimes ate dinner when they were working late at the store. “By the way, hope you don’t mind the TV on in the background. Halmoni and Harabeoji like to watch the news.” Jin turned down the volume knob on the small old-fashioned television perched on a shelf behind the table.

  “No problemo.” Rose said, already pulling books out of her bag. “So what are you going to do for your American history project?”

  Jin shrugged. Their teacher, Ms. Weir, had assigned a research paper about a historical event or unique quality that had influenced the character of their neighborhood. The paper was worth nearly half of the entire grade for the class. Jin still hadn’t figured out her topic, and she was starting to worry. She lived in Harlem, one of the most famous neighborhoods in New York City, in the entire country even. Why was coming up with one good idea so hard?

  “I’m tossing around a couple of ideas,” Jin said. “I could research the contributions of Korean immigrants like my grandparents, who came to Harlem in the 1960s. Or maybe the Harlem Renaissance? When we studied it in class, I wanted to learn more about the African American writers, musicians, and painters who put Harlem on the map as the place to be for art and culture. But I don’t know.” Jin sighed. “I just wish Ms. Weir had been a little more specific.” She took her schoolwork very seriously and liked her assignments to be clear.

  “I think not being specific is kind of the point,” Rose said. “Both of your ideas sound awesome. You just have to pick the one that’s most interesting to you. I’m going to do my project on Harlem fashion.” She flailed her hands in the air excitedly. “I’ll track the hottest Harlem styles from the past to the present.” Rose pulled out her phone. “And speaking of fashion, check out the new winter collection that I’m designing for Noodles.” Noodles was Rose’s adorable black-and-tan pug. She loved that dog just as much as she loved clothing. Rose leaned over so that Jin could see the picture of Noodles in a puffy neon green dog-sized coat with matching scarf and hat on the screen.

  “Awww.He’s so cute!” Jin cooed as Rose rapidly swiped through more photos.

  “Oh, and
this is from the summer collection.” She paused at a picture of Noodles in an old-fashioned one-piece striped bathing suit with a swim cap. “We never go to the beach, but he can wear it to splash around in the fountain at the dog park … ”

  “Mmmm-hmm.” Jin’s eyes wandered to the television as Rose continued to gush about Noodles. There was a news story on about a local community garden.

  “Hey, that’s not far from here.” Jin turned up the volume as images of the garden flashed across the screen.

  “Buried treasure in Harlem? Quite possibly. Yesterday, seven-year-old Harlem resident, Jarvis Monroe, may just have discovered a hidden masterpiece at the Zora Neale Hurston Community Garden,” said a reporter, on location in front of the garden. The camera cut to a grungy-looking kid holding a toy sand shovel and pail.

  “It was right over there.” Jarvis pointed. “I was visiting my grandma. She lives across the street.” He nodded toward an apartment building in the background. “She told me not to dig in the garden, but I did it anyway and that’s where I found the painting.” The camera zoomed in on a patch of dirt beneath a wooden bench. The reporter asked him to describe what he had found. “It looked kinda like a rolled-up tube, like the one that’s in the middle of a roll of paper towels. Except this tube was covered in plastic and the outside was really dirty.”

  The reporter took a step away from Jarvis as he continued his report. “Experts believe that Jarvis Monroe may have uncovered a rare painting by a Harlem artist, who, at the beginning of a very promising career in the 1960s, suddenly and mysteriously vanished from the art world along with all her paintings. No definitive information has been released at this time, but if the painting is an original work, it would be one of the most significant art finds of the decade, and worth a lot of money. Not bad for a seven-year-old kid digging in the dirt,” the reporter joked.

  “Wow,” said Rose, who had stopped talking about Noodles long enough to listen to the story. “Can you imagine making such a major art discovery at seven?”

  “That is pretty impressive,” Jin said. “Maybe I should do my history project on Jarvis Monroe,” she half-joked as she glanced back at the screen, where a man was now standing beside Jarvis, his arm slung awkwardly across the kid’s shoulders. The man’s name and title, Geld Markum, City Council Member, flashed across the screen. He had a large space in between his front teeth, and when he spoke, the tip of his tongue poked through the gap. He reminded Jin of a snake.

  “That’s why my Harlem World project is so important. We need to preserve the history and culture of Harlem, including works of art like the one our little man, Jarvis, here has uncovered. Otherwise, they just disappear. Right, Jarvis?” Councilman Markum broke into a broad grin and gripped Jarvis’s shoulder as the boy tried to inch away.

  “We expect widespread community support—” Councilman Markum was saying when, suddenly, a wet rag slammed against the television screen with a loud splat! Jin and Rose turned to see who had thrown the rag. Halmoni stood scowling behind them.

  “That man no good, like poison. He going to ruin neighborhood!” Halmoni stormed over to the television, switched it off, and wiped up the water with the same rag she had just thrown.

  “Are you, uh, okay, Halmoni?” Jin asked hesitantly. Her grandmother always had a temper, but Jin had never seen her throw anything.

  “I’m fine. Better now I don’t see Markum’s face.” Halmoni let out a deep breath. “Jin, I need you out front. The produce man is here, and I have to watch him. Last time, he try cheat me out of five pounds of bananas.” Halmoni stomped back to the front of the store.

  Rose stood to leave. “I should get going anyway. My mom freaks if I stay out too late,” she said.

  “I hope Halmoni didn’t scare you off,” Jin said as she led Rose to the door.

  “Please! She’s a softy compared to my nana. See you at school tomorrow.” Rose waved as she slipped past Halmoni, who was arguing bananas with the produce guy at the door.

  Jin watched her grandmother haggle. Halmoni seemed so sure of where she stood on things, first with that city councilman, now with the banana man. If only Jin had inherited some of that conviction. Then maybe she’d already have a topic for her history project.

  Jin wandered back to the counter to watch the register while Halmoni went outside with the deliveryman to open the basement’s sidewalk entrance. Jin hated going down there; it was dark and damp and creepy, and she always half expected to trip over some random skeleton sticking out from a dark corner. That was one discovery she did not want to make. She shuddered as she scooted onto the stool behind the cash register. She plunked her elbows onto the counter and rested her chin in her hands.

  Why was Halmoni so upset about that Markum guy? Jin’s thoughts drifted as she stared out at the empty store. After a few minutes, she slid off the stool to check the candy display. It was her job to make sure it was well stocked. She noticed right away that they were running low on Kit Kat bars and Wint O Green Life Savers. She took another quick glance around the store and ducked into the back to grab more candy. When she returned to the register, there was a man in the store. Jin hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “Uh, hello,” she called out to the customer. The man, who was wearing a long black trench coat and a Harlem Black Bombers baseball hat nodded in her direction. When he turned toward her, Jin could see that he was an older man, maybe in his sixties, with a scruffy white beard that stood out against his light brown skin, and small, round wire-frame glasses. Now, what’s his story? she wondered, pretending to be busy with the candy display so that she could watch him without being too obvious. Halmoni always said that, being in the grocery business, you have to know what people are hungry for at the moment, and you also have to remind them what they’re really craving—that is, what they really truly need and want in their lives.

  What was this man hungry for? Jin was all set to guess, when the man quickly picked up a package of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce. No fair! You didn’t give me time to guess, Jin wanted to say as he laid his selections on the counter. Instead, she just smiled and rang up his items. “That’ll be four dollars and eight cents,” she said.

  The man started fishing around in his huge coat pocket. “Oh, and I’ll take that, too.”

  Jin followed his eyes to the top shelf of the candy display, where Halmoni kept all the exotic candy from countries like Poland, Korea, India, and China. She also kept a collection of Pez dispensers up there, except she didn’t have any of the popular superhero or cartoon character ones. No, Halmoni’s Pez dispensers were all random animals, or corny holiday-themed ones, like pumpkins or Easter bunnies. They almost never sold anything from the top shelf.

  “Which one?” Jin asked.

  “The goat.”

  She stood on tippy-toe to reach it. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, handing him the red plastic Pez dispenser, with a goat head perched on top. “You want me to show you how it works?” The old man didn’t look like the kind of person who ate a lot of Pez.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said.

  Jin suddenly had another thought. “May I make a suggestion?” she asked. The man nodded. “If you’re buying this for a kid, most of the ones that I know would be happier with a chocolate bar.”

  The man shook his head. “No, this is what I want.” He slipped the goat into his pocket, paid for his items, and left as quietly as he had come.

  A few minutes later, Halmoni barreled back into the store. “That produce man always try cheat me, but this time, I got him. I use my own scale, ha!” Halmoni clapped her hands. “It right there in black-and-white. Can’t argue with numbers. I tell him I only pay for what scale says I owe. He won’t cheat me again. Hmmph! Any customer come in?”

  “Just an old man. He bought one of your Pez dispensers,” Jin said. Halmoni glanced at the empty space on the shelf.

  “The goat,” she whispered, and frowned.

  “What? Was I not supposed to sell it?” Jin
huffed.

  “No, is okay,” Halmoni said, and changed the subject. “You do homework now, Jinnie, so you can be ready for inventory later.”

  Yes! Jin cheered to herself, stifling the urge to pump her fist in the air. In a little while, the place would be crawling with aunts, uncles, and cousins who came to help Halmoni and Harabeoji restock the shelves. She loved that her family helped each other out—that was a big thing for them. But being in a small space with so many of her family members talking and laughing loudly could be a smidge overwhelming. Jin was happy to have a few moments of peace and quiet.

  She quickly grabbed her backpack from the storeroom and retreated to her special place behind the deli display case. Because the store was so small, Jin had nowhere to do homework if she had to help out up front. Harabeoji had created a space for her to work in the small alcove behind the deli case. It was perfect—just big enough for her to fit comfortably. Halmoni had even donated a small rug and fluffy cushion from their apartment to make it cozy. Best of all, Jin could look through the glass window of the case and see the entire store, but no one could see her.

  Instead of starting her homework right away, she decided to spend a few minutes observing. Unlike her grandmother, who liked to guess about people’s lives, Jin preferred to watch. She was a collector of interesting moments and details. When she wasn’t working, Jin’s favorite thing to do was to watch the people who came into the store. She’d figured out that, if you pay close attention, people will tell you their stories in the way that they move, how their faces look, how they speak. When something interesting caught her eye about a person or a moment, she wrote it down in her memory notebook so that she could always remember it.

  Halmoni believed that maybe Jin saved so many moments because she had a hole in her own memory. Jin was abandoned as a baby. The woman who was her mother had left her in a box at the Korean Presbyterian Church Halmoni and Harabeoji attended in Queens, then climbed into the wind and disappeared. When her grandparents found out about her arrival, they immediately adopted Jin, and they’d been her family ever since. Jin never learned anything more about her birth mother.