The Harlem Charade

by Natasha Tarpley

  “Alexandra, are you almost ready?” Alex’s mother, Cassandra, waltzed into the room wearing an ensemble identical to her daughter’s.

  Alex ignored her mother’s question. “I don’t see why I have to wear this,” she groaned.

  “You have to wear it because it is the proper apparel for horseback riding, and we are going on an equestrian outing,” Cassandra said, joining Alex in front of the mirror. “Besides, the SEEL moms thought it would be so cute if all the parents and kids wore matching outfits.” She leaned in close to the glass to apply a coat of reddish-brown lipstick, then smoothed her hair, which was pulled back into an already flawless, shiny black bun. Alex’s hair, in contrast, stuck out like a scarecrow’s beneath her jelly bean hat. Cassandra frowned at her daughter in the mirror but quickly recovered as her eyes wandered back to her own reflection. “Despite your best efforts to the contrary, we look adorable!” she gushed, and snapped several pictures of the two of them with her phone, Alex scowling in every one.

  A few minutes later, Alex and her mom were in the back of her father’s Bentley, on their way to the annual Society for Excellence in Education and Leadership equestrian outing in Central Park. Every year it was the same—a bunch of kids and their parents paraded around Central Park on horseback, then sat down to an expensive catered picnic. Alex hated going on these outings. Come to think of it, she even hated this car. When she looked around the neighborhood, she saw tons of ways they could have used the money it cost to do some good. She slouched down in her seat to avoid the curious stares of other drivers and people on the street, who were always peeking into the car, hoping to get a glimpse of somebody famous. We’re not famous! Alex wanted to shout. My dad just spent a lot of money on this car. Why did people think that spending a lot of money on something made it so much more important?

  “James, don’t forget to stop and pick up the laundry before you come back to the park to get us at four. Also, Mr. Roebuck is coming home from London tonight. His flight gets in at JFK at seven. Please be on time.” Cassandra finished running down the day’s tasks with James, their family chauffeur. “This is going to be so much fun!” She turned to Alex and squeezed her hand. “When I was growing up, we rode every summer at our house in Sag Harbor. My father kept horses there, you know. It’s a shame more young people don’t ride horses today.”

  “Maybe it’s because most kids in New York don’t have a summer home or their own horses,” Alex mumbled.

  “Well, you don’t have to have a summer home. There are plenty of opportunities to ride horses here in the city, including this ride that SEEL organizes in the park every fall.”

  “My point exactly,” Alex quipped.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassandra swiveled in her seat to face her.

  “It means that most of the kids in SEEL are rich, too.”

  “That is simply not true!” Cassandra sputtered. “The Society for Excellence in Education and Leadership is a historic organization that has nourished young people, irrespective of income, and helped them to become upstanding, confident, self-respecting citizens, who make valuable contributions to our society.”

  Alex crossed her arms. “Whatever. Let’s just forget it.”

  “What is this about, Alexandra?”

  Alex took a breath. “I don’t have anything against SEEL, it’s just that I wish our family could do more of the things that I care about, like volunteering at the local shelters or food pantries. We always have to do these activities like horseback riding, or going to some stupid fashion show or expensive party. None of these things help change the lives of ordinary people.”

  Cassandra looked as though she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry that you’re so dissatisfied with your station in life, Alexandra, and with the exposure and opportunities that your father and I have tried to provide for you.”

  “It’s not that,” Alex interrupted before her mother could get going on her speech about how hard her parents worked, how fortunate she was, et cetera, et cetera. “It’s just … never mind. You don’t get it.”

  “I guess I don’t,” Cassandra said. They rode in silence the rest of the way. Alex stared out the window, wondering how Jin and Elvin were faring with Jarvis Monroe. She felt bad about not telling them more about her life. But she wanted them to know the real her, not the character she played in her parents’ world of make-believe.

  At the park, Alex spotted her friend Rad standing away from the SEEL crew, watching a few skater kids at a nearby fountain. It was strange seeing him without his own board—Rad skateboarded everywhere, even in school when the teachers weren’t watching. Today the board was nowhere in sight. He was dressed in riding boots and pants, and looked just as ridiculous as Alex felt.

  “Nice outfit,” Alex said, and fake-punched him on the shoulder.

  “You too. Ready?” he asked. Alex nodded, and they both took out their phones and snapped a picture of one another. They’d started taking pictures of each other two years ago, when Rad transferred to Alex’s school. Since neither of them wanted anyone at school to know about the corny stuff their parents forced them to do, the pictures were a kind of insurance policy—neither of them could expose the other without being exposed themselves. What happened at SEEL stayed at SEEL.

  An idea suddenly occurred to Alex as they walked together back to the stables. “I need your help with something,” she said. Rad was really into art, and he also knew a lot about Harlem, since he skated around the neighborhood every day. Maybe he could help them find out more about Henriette Drummond and her paintings. She didn’t think Elvin or Jin would mind, so as they rode through the park, she told Rad the whole story about Elvin’s grandfather’s attack, the discovery of the mysterious painting, and their meeting with Verta Mae Sneed.

  Rad listened carefully. A wide grin spread across his face when Alex finished telling her story. “Dude! This is awesome. It’s a real-life art mystery. Meet me tomorrow after school in St. Nicholas Park. I think I know just the person who can help.”

  The next day, Jin decided to skip her after-school activities so that she could get her chores done early at the bodega and meet Alex and Elvin as soon as possible. They had a lot of ground to cover.

  Rose cornered her at her locker. “I thought you had your Environment Club meeting on Mondays. Are you heading home?”

  “Yeah, Alex, Elvin, and I have some stuff to do today. I think we’ve got some really interesting leads.”

  Rose sniffed. “Sounds important, but I hope not so important that you neglect other things.”

  “Like what?” Jin stopped shoving books into her backpack to look at Rose.

  Rose’s pale cheeks flushed pink. “Like Noodles. We’re running out of time. My mom and I are going to be moving in a few weeks. Has anyone asked about Noodles at the bodega?”

  Jin pretended to be busy again with her books as she shook her head, no. It was true that no one had stepped forward to adopt Noodles, but it was also true that Jin had been so busy helping Elvin, she hadn’t had time to really look for a new owner for Noodles like she’d promised. “Halmoni told me that customers in the store are always saying how cute he is. And I’ll ask around more in the neighborhood. We’ll find a home for Noodles soon, I know it.”

  “I hope so,” Rose sighed, which made Jin feel even worse for letting her down.

  Jin said good-bye, slammed her locker door shut, and hurried out of the building.

  When she got to the bodega, Halmoni made it clear that she was not happy that Jin had missed her club meeting. “Jinnie, you need to put yourself first,” she scolded as Jin sped through her chores.

  Jin didn’t know what to say, or to think for that matter. It was hard feeling pulled in so many directions at once. If her grades suffered, or she missed too many Environment Club meetings, Halmoni would make her cut back on helping her friends. But even though keeping up with her schoolwork and extracurricular activities was still very important, Jin was also starting to believe that by helpi
ng other people you were helping yourself. She’d have to find a way to do both, she resolved as she rushed out of the store to meet Alex and Elvin.

  As soon as Jin stepped off the elevator on Elvin’s floor, Alex rushed down the hall toward her, waving a newspaper above her head like a madwoman. “You are not going to believe this! The Magic Skillet.” Alex pointed to an article, buried deep in the Metro section. “It’s closed.”

  “Closed?” Jin reached for the paper.

  The Magic Skillet, a veritable Harlem institution, was shut down by health inspectors early yesterday morning due to numerous health code violations, including mice and cockroach infestations. “It doesn’t make any sense. We run a clean business. We’ve never had any violations before. This just came out of nowhere, like the plague of locusts in the Bible,” said proprietor Owen Montgomery, whose family has owned and operated the establishment for over fifty years. “We’ve been noticing the changes in the neighborhood. It’s a different clientele. Lots of young people, who like sushi and nitro-foam foods that I can’t even pronounce. We believe our time has passed. We’ve received an offer to buy the building, so we’ve decided to close.

  “But we were just there!” Jin looked up from the paper. “I didn’t see any mice or roaches.”

  “I know, it just doesn’t add up,” Alex sighed, and plopped down on the sofa, tossing the newspaper aside.

  Jin sat down beside her and picked up the paper to read through the article again. “Hey, look at this.” She pointed to another story on the opposite page. “It says, ‘Councilman Markum Reveals Proposed Location of Harlem World Development,’ ” Jin read aloud. “ ‘Though still awaiting city approval, Councilman Geld Markum has released a map of the proposed location of Harlem World, the Harlem-themed amusement park and entertainment complex, which he hopes will celebrate the rich historic and cultural legacy of the neighborhood—and also boost his bid for reelection.’ ”

  “Let’s see.” Alex leaned forward. “It’s worse than I thought,” she groaned, jabbing her finger at the map, which covered a large chunk of the neighborhood. “He’s literally trying to take over all of Harlem.”

  “Maybe it’s not so bad. The article does say that Markum’s plan will bring jobs and increased tourism revenue to Harlem. That’s got to be good for local businesses,” Jin said.

  “They always say that, and then local people and small business owners, like the folks at the Magic Skillet, are the ones who suffer the most.” Alex walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and shook her head sadly as she looked out over Harlem. “This is really bad. But it gives me an idea,” she said and whirled around to face Jin. “Harlem World would make a great topic for our neighborhood project for history class. That way we can keep tabs on what Markum is really up to.”

  “But Ms. Weir said it has to be a project about the past,” Jin protested.

  “The future is the past. Besides, our assignment, technically, is to pick an aspect of our neighborhood that has shaped its character,” Alex argued. “This development is going to completely turn Harlem upside down. If that doesn’t count as shaping character, I don’t know what does. Are you in?”

  “Okay, but you have to talk to Ms. Weir if she gives us any trouble,” Jin agreed. “Maybe we can even include the Magic Skillet closing in our project. I mean, what kind of community does Harlem become in the future if places like the Magic Skillet, which are a big part of its past, get totally erased?” she wondered out loud.

  “That’s exactly what I want to know!” Alex said.

  Elvin, who had slipped away to the kitchen, returned with a plate of sliced apples and a jar of peanut butter. “Snacks are served,” he said, setting the plate down on the coffee table.

  For some reason, Elvin’s snack made Alex feel especially moved. Before she bit into it, she held up her apple slice, as if she were proposing a toast. “I would like to say thank you to Elvin for sharing his food. And to restaurants like the Magic Skillet that prepare and donate meals so that everyone in our community can have food to eat. Here’s to Elvin and the Magic Skillet.”

  “To Elvin and the Magic Skillet!” Jin and Elvin repeated. They bit into their apple slices at the same time, then devoured the rest of the slices on the plate, along with almost the entire jar of peanut butter. When they were finished eating, Alex did not waste any time getting down to business.

  “So what happened with boy wonder?” she asked.

  “Who?” Elvin looked confused.

  “The kid who found the painting.”

  “Oh, him.” Jin frowned. “He was a brat, but he did say a couple interesting things.” She opened up her notebook to the page where she had written her notes about yesterday’s encounter with Jarvis Monroe. “First of all, we found out that we weren’t the only ones who’d paid him a visit.”

  Elvin picked up the story. “Yeah, he said this mean guy named Zig-Zag wanted to know where the authorities had taken the painting after he found it. He pushed Jarvis around a bit when he wouldn’t tell him, poor kid.”

  “But here’s the thing,” Jin continued. “Jarvis actually did tell us where the painting was. He said that it was in the hospital. What that means, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe it means exactly what he said. Maybe the painting is actually in a hospital. Not like a patient or anything, but just that they’re keeping it there for some reason,” Elvin suggested. “I want to visit my grandfather at Harlem Hospital anyway. We could see if anybody’s heard anything about the painting while we’re there.”

  Alex nodded in agreement. “I also spoke to my friend Rad yesterday. He said he knows someone who might be able to give us some information about Henriette Drummond, and wants us to meet him in St. Nicholas Park this afternoon,” she said.

  “And don’t forget, we were going to, uh, check out Elvin’s grandfather’s apartment,” Jin said, making a list in her notebook. “Which isn’t far from St. Nicholas Park, right? We can meet Rad, and then go to your grandfather’s place. That way we kill two birds with one stone.”

  Elvin cringed as they filed out of the apartment. “Can we please not use words like ‘kill’?”

  “Sorry, Elvin,” said Jin.

  “We need to follow up on these leads as quickly as possible if we want to find out who attacked your grandfather,” said Alex. “Because whoever is looking for Henriette’s paintings is our main suspect. And if those paintings are really as valuable as Dr. Sneed says, we definitely want to get to them first.”

  St. Nicholas Park looked like a remnant of another era—one before Manhattan had been settled, before the grid of buildings and pavement, streetlights and sewers, structured and organized the island. It was full of sloping rock formations topped by pointy boulders and wild brambles creeping along the ground. It reminded Elvin of the hills that surrounded his house in California.

  Alex led them up one of the meandering paths to an area of the park where a bunch of skater kids were hanging out, clustered around park benches and ollieing on the stair rails. Alex saw Rad and waved.

  “What up, dudes?” Rad skated over, perspiration beading on his forehead. He shook his electric-purple-and-blue dreadlocks, sending droplets of sweat flying everywhere. Jin curled her lip, disgusted, and took a step back. Rad didn’t seem to notice. “Man, I almost had that kickflip.”

  “Yeah, that’s a hard one. It took me a while to get it right,” Elvin said shyly.

  “You skate, dude? Right on!” Rad held up his fist again for Elvin to bump. “You totally need to come skating with us. What kind of board do you have?”

  Before Elvin could answer, Alex took over. “I don’t mean to interrupt your skater lovefest, but we don’t have all day. Rad, were you able to look into that stuff we discussed yesterday?”

  Rad slapped his forehead. “My bad, dude. Totally slipped my mind, but hold up a sec. My homey is right over there. He’s the one I wanted you to talk to.” He dropped his board to the ground and skated over to a group of kids crowded around a park
bench. In a few minutes, he returned with an older kid who looked like he had just stepped out of a 1980s break-dancing movie. He wore his hair in a high-top fade and had on a red jacket with black leather patches on the arms and shoulders. A huge gold medallion that said T.J. hung around his neck.

  As they got closer, Jin was surprised to see that he was at least sixteen. What was this kid doing hanging out with a bunch of middle schoolers? She wondered as the boys reached their circle.

  “This is my homeboy, T.J.,” Rad introduced the kid. “This dude is an awesome artist. He’s like my guru when it comes to graffiti, and all kinds of art, really. He’s about to blow up and get his own gallery show, right, T.J.?”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely in the works. If things go as planned, it won’t be long before my name is up in lights.” He grinned. Jin rolled her eyes. She already didn’t like this guy. Alex didn’t seem to like him much, either. She was definitely giving him the evil eye.

  “Well, good luck with that,” Alex said flatly. “We actually need your help with a little art-related problem,” she explained, and then filled him in on the story of Elvin’s grandfather’s attack and how their search for his attackers had led them to the mysterious painting.

  “We were wondering if you knew anything about the painting that was found in a community garden not far from here.” Jin turned to T.J. “We think it might be pretty rare.”

  “I’ll ask around, see if there’s any word on the street about it,” T.J. said. “Did you happen to hear if there were any more paintings like it? What I mean is, artwork like that usually isn’t a one-shot deal. There’s probably more out there.”