“Like what?” Elvin asked.
“Well, for one, the Invisible 7 disbanded, and all its members, save one, were blacklisted as a bunch of radical extremists. Henriette lost her second commission at Harlem Hospital, and work became hard to come by. It impacted my career as well, and I wasn’t even an official member. Once the theaters found out that I was Henriette’s sister, the jobs began to dry up. I became a secretary to support myself. Those were very dark days. Many people were badly hurt as a result of Henriette’s actions, and those wounds never healed. The people you’re looking for may be trying to settle a score,” Isabel said, lowering her voice.
“But why go after my grandfather?” Elvin asked. “He’s not the one who vandalized the paintings.”
“But he was the only one who stood by Henriette. I think Jacob needed the Invisible 7 to distract him from the pain of his wife’s death. He was relentless in his attempts to keep the group together. The Goat really earned his nickname.” She winked at Elvin.
Elvin’s mouth dropped open. “The goat? Seriously?”
“What, he never told you about that?” Isabel laughed. “Henriette always said that Jacob was stubborn as a goat. Then we found out that the goat was the unofficial mascot of Harlem, during the mid- to late-1800s, when this part of New York, still very rural, was home to a large population of goats. The goats created quite a nuisance, as I understand. And since your grandfather was so passionate about Harlem, sometimes to the point of annoyance, the name just stuck.”
“Cool,” Elvin said, fingering the Pez dispenser in his pocket. Could his grandfather be trying to tell him something?
“So maybe because Jacob was the only one of the Invisible 7 who stuck by Henriette, someone thinks that she told him what she did with her paintings,” Alex speculated.
“That’s possible, but my sister told me that she was planning to destroy all her paintings. Now, Henriette has always been impulsive, so she may have changed her mind, but she expressly said that the mural at the hospital was to be the last of her paintings to be shown publicly.”
“Is that why the feather on that painting is black and not green?” Jin asked. “Was she trying to tell everyone that she planned to disappear?”
Isabel cocked her head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I always thought of that feather as Henriette’s way of apologizing to the Invisible 7 for the darkness she’d brought into their lives.”
“What about the painting that was discovered in the community garden? The hospital is claiming that it belongs to them. Was that a sketch for the second commission that she lost after the whole fiasco at the Met?” Jin pressed.
Isabel sucked her teeth. “That’s what they want the world to believe, but the piece that was discovered was actually a sketch for Henriette’s original idea for the first mural. They rejected that idea because Henriette included images of nontraditional healers, which ran contrary to the belief in this country that Western doctors are the only valid medical practitioners. They no more own that sketch than I own that hospital,” Isabel spat. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief that she pulled out of her sleeve, then stood up abruptly. “I have something I’d like to give you.”
She walked over to a desk in the corner of the room, and returned with a photograph, which she handed to Elvin. “I don’t know if this will help you in your search, but this is a picture of me with the Invisible 7 in happier days. It’s only a copy, I’m afraid. There’s your grandfather, and that’s me and my sister next to him.” Isabel lightly touched each of the three, smiling faces. “How young and hopeful we were then. I hope you will think of us and remember us that way,” she said, meeting the eyes of each of the four young people in her living room.
“Now, if you will excuse me, children, I need to lie down. Talking about the past has taken a lot out of me.” Isabel led them to the foyer. She shook hands with Jin, Alex, and Rose. With Elvin, though, she placed her hands on either side of his face, then hugged him. “Your grandmother would’ve been so pleased to know you, had she lived. Take care of your grandfather,” she whispered as the door shut quietly behind them.
The four lingered outside the building for a few minutes, before heading off in separate directions. Elvin was going skateboarding with Rad, Rose had to get home to pack, Alex had to go out with her parents, and Jin was expected back at the bodega.
“Hey, wait a second,” Jin called after Alex, who had already started down the block. “We need to talk about our project at some point. We have an outline and summary due on Monday.”
Alex seemed fidgety. “Can we do it later? My mom has already texted me like ten times asking where I am.”
“Where are you guys going?”
Alex looked down at the sidewalk. “Just some dinner for my dad’s job. I don’t want to talk about it.”
So we’re back to being Mystery Girl, Jin thought. “Okay, well, have a good time, I guess.”
Alex started to walk away, then suddenly turned back. “Jin, I need to tell you something. I wanted to tell you sooner, but Elvin was so upset that day at the hospital that I didn’t think I should bring it up,” Alex blurted out in one breath.
“What is it?” Jin sighed.
“Your grandparents’ bodega—it’s on Markum’s list.”
“What?”
“It’s on the list. Markum is planning to demolish it. I wanted you to know, so that you could be on the lookout for … ”
Jin felt the blood rush to her ears. She was so angry, she couldn’t even hear what Alex was saying. How could Alex have waited to tell her this? Real friends didn’t keep secrets. And a real friend would have wanted her to have as much time as possible to warn Halmoni and Harabeoji and fight Markum. Did Alex even consider Jin and Elvin her friends at all? Or were they just her newest charity cases? Jin wasn’t sure. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered.
And before Alex could say anything else, Jin was gone.
Jin was so spooked when she got back to the bodega, she could barely concentrate on her chores. Her eyes darted to the door every time someone came in, wondering if they were spies sent by Markum. And when the produce guy delivered two boxes of lettuce crawling with bugs, Jin suspected that it was some kind of threat or warning from Markum. Later, while she was helping Halmoni and Harabeoji pack jars of kimchi for the big order from the Korean Embassy, Jin dropped two jars before Halmoni banished her to the cubby behind the deli counter.
“Jinnie, why so jumpy today?” Halmoni asked as she continued packing.
“No reason.” Jin considered telling her about Markum’s list, but she didn’t want to worry her grandmother, and if Halmoni already knew, she didn’t want to make the bad news worse by bringing it up. “Halmoni, why do you hate Councilman Markum so much?”
Halmoni frowned and glanced at Harabeoji at the mention of Markum’s name. “No hate, just very, very disappointed. And angry. We have work hard to bring people together in this neighborhood, and Markum work very hard to tear our neighborhood apart.”
“What do you mean?” Jin poked her head out from her cubby.
Harabeoji cleared his throat. “Your grandmother and I open our store here many years ago, but it has not always been so easy. We didn’t always get along with our neighbors. Sometimes it was like we live on two separate islands, but we spend a lot of time building bridges to connect us.” Harabeoji clasped his two hands together. “Markum make people afraid, make them feel they have to fight to protect what they have, and turn away from their neighbor.” Harabeoji shook his head sadly, then bent over so that he was eye level with Jin. He clasped his hands again, lacing all the fingers together. “Remember this.” He shook his interwoven hands. “This is our strength. As long as we stand together, Markum cannot win.”
“I’ll remember.” Jin interlaced her own fingers, mirroring her grandfather’s, and leaned back into her cubby. Tucked away in her secret space, with a cozy pillow to snuggle, and grandparents to protect her from the scary things and
people lurking just beyond the deli case, Jin felt safer, calmer. But staring down at her clasped hands, she thought about what Harabeoji had said about unity, and the uneasiness began to creep back up her spine. She had made a terrible mistake today when she told Alex that she was off the case. She had walked out on her friends—yes, she could definitely call them that now—when they needed her most. Jin wasn’t sure how, but she had to fix this. She reached for her phone to call Alex, but Alex had already texted her.
J—I am so sorry about today. I need to talk to you—about everything. Will you come over tomorrow around noon? I’ll text the address later.
Jin was relieved. Maybe Alex actually did care about their friendship. She texted back: I’m really sorry, too. I’ll be there.
Alex knew that she’d messed up, big-time. She’d been keeping secrets for so long, she wasn’t even sure anymore why she was doing it. At first, she’d done it to protect herself. She had an automatic wall that went up whenever she met someone new. When most kids found out her family had money, they wanted to be her friend because they thought it would bring them a step closer to the rich and famous. Others made a point of ignoring her, letting her know that her money didn’t make her any better than them—not that she would’ve ever thought that. Either way, it was easier to keep her distance than be disappointed that no one really saw her. Jin and Elvin weren’t like that, though. They were for real. The least she could do was tell them the truth.
After sending a quick text to Jin, Alex rushed over to the neighborhood library. She’d promised the librarian that she’d deliver some books the library was donating to Harlem Hospital. She’d have to hurry so she could make it home in time to attend that stupid fundraiser with her parents. Arrgh! That was yet another thing she hadn’t told Jin and Elvin. The fundraiser was for Councilman Markum’s reelection campaign, and it was being held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She felt awful for keeping it from them, but she swore to herself that she’d come clean about the whole thing when they met tomorrow.
Alex dropped off the books at the hospital. On her way out, the receptionist with the platinum-blond hair and long pink nails called out to her. “Yoo-hoo! Young lady!”
Alex looked around and then pointed to herself. “Me?” She mouthed the word.
The woman bobbed her head up and down and waved her over to the desk.
“You were the one asking about the old man in the coma the other day. You’re his niece, right?” she whispered.
“Er, yeah,” Alex nodded, remembering the lie she’d told. The woman leaned toward her. “He’s awake. I just updated the status report myself. I was hoping you’d come in.”
Alex could’ve hugged her. Instead, she shook the receptionist’s hand until the woman gently tugged it away. “Thank you so much! My friend … I mean, my family will be so happy!”
As soon as she was outside, Alex called Elvin, but there was no answer. She left a message. “Elvin, call me ASAP. I have something very important to tell you.”
Elvin was too busy looking at the photograph that Isabel had given him to notice his cell phone ringing. The photo was clutched tightly in his hand as he entered St. Nicholas Park. He scanned the clusters of skater kids but didn’t see Rad among them, so he sat down on an empty bench to study the photograph one more time. He stared into his grandfather’s youthful smiling face. In a month’s time, he had gone from knowing nothing about his grandfather to being the keeper of his legacy, literally. People kept giving him things to ensure that he would always remember Jacob Morrow. But what exactly was he supposed to remember?
Elvin looked up from the picture and glanced around the park again. He still didn’t see Rad anywhere, but he did spot someone familiar. T.J., the graffiti wunderkind Rad had introduced them to the day he, Jin, and Alex broke into his grandfather’s apartment, was walking right toward him, his high-top fade even taller than when they first met. Not up for a conversation, Elvin ducked his head down and held the picture up to cover his face until T.J. had passed him. Elvin had thought the guy seemed kind of dangerous when they first met, and now, glancing over the edge of his photo, he saw something that confirmed his suspicion. Shaved into the back of T.J.’s head was a zigzag pattern, like two lightning bolts. Zig-Zag! Could T.J. have been the guy that had pushed Jarvis Monroe around?
Elvin had to follow him and find out what he was up to. He trailed T.J. out of the park and onto St. Nicholas Avenue, headed downtown until they reached 125th Street, where T.J. disappeared into a storefront near the corner. Elvin crept closer to get a look at the front of the building. It was the campaign headquarters of Councilman Geld Markum. What was T.J. doing here? Elvin sent a quick text message to Rad letting him know where he was and his suspicions about T.J., then crept inside.
He found himself in a small waiting area, empty except for a desk and a few multicolored plastic chairs. Campaign leaflets were scattered on the desk, but other than that, there was no sign that anyone actually worked here. Elvin heard voices coming from a back room and inched toward the sound. He didn’t see anyone, but he was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for him to go back there alone. He’d come back with Rad and the girls, Elvin decided, and turned to leave.
Suddenly, he felt a hand clamp down his shoulder. “May I help you, young man? Here to volunteer for the councilman?” A kindly looking older man, tall and lean, with a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper Afro, grinned down at him. His face was familiar. Elvin’s brain snapped into action, even as the rest of his body was frozen with fear.
“No volunteering for me. I can’t even vote.” Elvin chuckled nervously. “I think I’m in the wrong … ” His voice trailed off mid-sentence as he realized that he had seen this man—or at least a much younger version of him—in Isabel’s photograph. “Um, I was just curious, were you a member of the Invisible 7? We read about the group in school,” Elvin said hesitantly. He wasn’t sure yet whether this guy was friend or foe.
A smile spread across the man’s face. “Why, yes, I was. Nice that they’re still teaching the youngbloods about us.”
“I love the murals you guys made. We saw some of them. And I heard that a painting was discovered by another one of the Invisible 7, someone named Henriette Drummond. She was like the leader of the Invisible 7, right?”
The man’s eyes hardened. “There was no leader,” he said in a strained voice. “We all worked equally to promote our mission. Henriette just took all the credit.”
Elvin nodded. He knew he should think of something else to say, but what? He let his gaze drop to the floor to buy some time, and that’s when he noticed the man’s shoes, pointy-toed, olive-colored alligator skin boots. They were the same boots the man at the construction site had been wearing!
“Uh, it was really great to meet you, but I’ve got to get going.” Elvin backed toward the door, sure that whoever this man might be, he was definitely bad news. But just as he turned to leave, the man grasped his shoulder again.
“What’s the rush? Stay awhile,” the man sneered. He led Elvin toward the back offices and into a windowless room where, sitting around a small table were T.J. and the balding, whiny-voiced man from the museum.
“Gentlemen, we have a guest,” the older man said.
The bald man stood up and grabbed Elvin’s coat collar. “If it isn’t my favorite little spy. Do you think I don’t know what you sniveling roaches have been up to? Don’t try to look innocent!” Museum Guy tightened his grip. “I overheard every word you and your sidekicks said when you went crying to Verta Mae Sneed at the museum. And then, in your grandfather’s little roach motel of an apartment, you had the audacity to kick me in the nose!”
“Yeah, your nose was black and blue for days, wasn’t it, Pugnacio?” T.J. cackled.
“Shut up, you imbecile,” Pugnacio spat at T.J. Then he turned back to Elvin and gave him a hard shake. “I would return the favor and crush every bone in your pathetic little body, except I need something from you. Tell me where the
rest of the paintings are,” he growled.
Elvin didn’t say anything.
“I get it. You’re trying to be courageous like your grandfather,” Pugnacio laughed.
“You see how far that got him. Lights out, old man,” T.J. snorted.
Elvin’s heart stopped. T.J. had basically just admitted to attacking his grandfather. “I don’t know where the paintings are.” Elvin tried to sound tough, but he couldn’t control the tremble in his voice.
The older man stepped up and pushed both T.J. and Pugnacio aside. “I suppose we could’ve waited for your friend to add the next chapter in her little notebook. Oh, don’t look so shocked. We saw you three running from the construction site that day,” he chided, and tossed Jin’s notebook onto the table. “But we’re done playing games now.” He leaned toward Elvin, so close, their noses were nearly touching. “Tell us what we want to know,” he snarled.
“I don’t know anything. I only just met my grandfather a few weeks ago. Why would he tell me something so secret?” Elvin felt a rush of anger rising in his chest. “Besides, those paintings aren’t yours anyway.”
The older man reared up to his full height. “Those paintings are payback for the life that Henriette stole from me when she decided to pull that stupid vandalism stunt at the Met. Make no mistake, they are more mine than hers.” He spat the words.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt, boss.” T.J. tapped the man on the shoulder. “We need to get going. Markum will be expecting us soon.”
“Let’s take the kid along as a little insurance policy.” Pugnacio moved toward Elvin and grabbed one of his arms, while T.J. attached himself to the other. The older man led the way to a car parked out front.
As soon as the small entourage stepped onto the sidewalk, Elvin heard a voice call out.
“Hey, T.J.! What up, dude?”
Elvin looked up just in time to see Rad charging toward them on his board.
The Harlem Charade Page 14