When My Name Was Keoko (9 page)

One evening in early summer Omoni sent me out with Uncle's supper. As I left our house, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye that startled me. Someone was standing in the long shadow of the wall of the house next door.

It was Tomo.

"Tomo! What are you doing hiding there—you nearly frightened me to death!"

"Hello," he said. But he didn't step out of the shadow. He leaned forward a little and looked quickly up and down the lane. Then he jerked his head, beckoning me to join him.

I was pleased to see him, but the way he was acting made me look around nervously as I walked toward him. We were at different schools now, so it had been a while since we'd last met. I noticed how much he had grown. We'd always been close to the same height, but now he was nearly a head taller than me.

"I was just passing," he said carefully, "and I thought I'd stop by and see if you were around. I've been ... thinking about something." His eyes flickered to my face, then down to the ground.

He was definitely uncomfortable. "Thinking about what?" I asked as gently as I could.

Aimlessly, he kicked a stone at his feet. Then he squatted down on his haunches and picked it up. He examined it carefully for a moment, as if it might hold a secret. Suddenly, his face seemed to brighten; he stood up again and held the stone out to me. "Do you remember when we used to collect stones like this? To build our cities?"

I smiled. "Of course I remember. We built lots of cities—some really good ones. Remember the stadium?"

"Yes ... I've been thinking about those days," Tomo said, still speaking slowly. "About the little things your uncle made for us. Do you know what happened to them?"

Uncle had often stopped by to admire the cities. Once he gave me a present: several tiny signs with real printing on them. He'd made them at his shop. They said things like
GROCERY STORE
and
RAILWAY STATION.
I was so proud when I brought them to show Tomo. They made our city look much more real.

Another time Uncle made a lot of little things out of wire. Lampposts and gates for outside the houses, tables for inside, even a tiny wire bicycle. We were delighted.

Now I frowned. "What happened to what? The little signs? Or the wire things? I suppose they all got lost. I'm not sure. But I know I don't have them at home anymore."

"Hmm," he said. "I wish I knew.... It's too bad—he made some really nice things."

An odd feeling was growing inside me—in my throat, in my stomach, at the back of my neck. The way Tomo was looking at me, talking so seriously about a few silly, childish toys—it was as if he were saying one thing while thinking another.

He took a step toward the lane. "I have to go now. I just wanted to say, I always thought it was a shame ... that we didn't keep those things safe somehow. It was so nice of your uncle—I thought of it especially today...."

His voice trailed off. He glanced up and down the lane again, then looked at me one last time as if he were about to say something more. Instead, he handed me the stone, touched his cap, and hurried away.

I stood still for a moment.
Saying one thing but thinking another
—I sensed that Tomo had wanted to tell me something that he couldn't say openly. I looked at the stone he'd given me. The houses and shops we'd built, out of stones like this one, the little things inside them that Uncle had made for us ... Uncle. He'd mentioned Uncle a couple of times....

A shame ... your uncle ... not safe ... especially today...

I raised my head in a moment of stunned realization.

Tomo had brought me a warning.

Something bad was going to happen.

To Uncle.

I dropped the lunch box that held Uncle's dinner and began to run.

***

The few blocks to Uncle's shop had never seemed so long. I couldn't go as fast as I wanted to—I had to keep an eye out for military guards who would surely question me if they saw me running in a panic. I stayed close to the buildings, hurrying along and pausing before I turned a corner.

I thought perhaps I should go home first, to talk to Tae-yul. But my heart was pounding, my thoughts were pounding, and I couldn't seem to stop my feet. As I neared the center of town where there were more guards, I slowed down and tried to walk casually. Thinking, thinking the whole time.

If I went home and told Tae-yul, what would he do? He'd go warn Uncle, surely. He might even be angry at me for wasting time.
I thought of it especially today,
Tomo had said. Whatever it was, it might happen any minute now. The sooner the better, to tell Uncle. This must be what Abuji had been afraid of, what he'd tried to warn Uncle about.

Or else Tae-yul might say it was nothing, that we should wait and see. That I'd imagined everything—that Tomo had just been chatting about nothing. Tae-yul might think I was silly for getting so excited.

But he hadn't been there. He hadn't seen Tomo's uneasy face or heard the worry in his voice.

I
knew
I was right. I knew Tomo. He was telling me more than he'd said. I could feel it.

I quickened my steps again. Now I could see the shop. The door was closed. I ran the last half block and pushed the door open.

There was no one in the shop itself, but I heard low voices coming from the back room."Uncle?" I called shakily.

Uncle came out with the usual cheerful expression on his
face, though I could see from the dark smudges under his eyes that he was very tired.

"Sun-hee!" he said. "Where's my supper? Did you eat it on the way here?"

I was too frightened to respond to his little joke. "Uncle—please, you must leave here—quickly—something bad—I don't know when—"

The light in Uncle's eyes faded at once. He came toward me and put his arm around me. "Sun-hee, calm yourself. What's the matter?"

I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and began again. "Uncle, Tomo came to see me just now. He said—he said something bad is going to happen. To you. He didn't say exactly when or what it was, but—but he was very worried, I could tell. And it will be soon. Uncle, please, what is it? What was Tomo talking about?"

Uncle didn't look surprised. He didn't even question me. "Wait here," he said, and went to the back room. He spoke to someone; I could hear another voice answer him, but couldn't make out the words. Then there was a sudden flurry of activity—the sound of papers being rustled. I heard the front door rattle from the draft as the other person left by the back door.

Uncle returned and came out from behind the counter. He pulled me close to him and gave me a quick hug. "I am not going home tonight, Sun-hee. I won't be home again for a long time. How long, I'm not sure. I can't answer your questions right now—you must hurry home." He paused for a moment. "Tell Tae-yul I said he can tell you what he knows."

Something bad
was
about to happen. Uncle had been expecting it. Not from me, maybe, not in this way, but he was
ready.
He
knew what was happening, even if I didn't. And he had a plan, somewhere to go.

A tiny voice in my head said,
You were right! Aren't you glad you didn't go to Tae-yul first?
But it was silenced almost immediately by other voices—cries of fear for Uncle's safety.

He reached out and gave my hair a gentle tug. "Now go. And continue to be brave, Sun-hee. You have been very brave tonight—I am proud of you."

And he walked me to the door.

I stood in the street for a moment. The sun was sinking behind the hills that surrounded the town. Its last rays seemed to be a blur of gold. I blinked to clear my vision, and a tear rolled down my cheek. Hastily, I wiped it away and set off toward home.

When I reached the lane, I caught sight of the lunch box I'd dropped. It made me feel bad. Whatever Uncle was doing—wherever he was going—he surely would have liked a bite to eat. As I bent over to pick it up, I saw the stone Tomo had given me, and I picked that up, too.

I stepped into the corridor that led to our inner courtyard.

Sun-hee comes into the house with Uncle's lunch box in her hand. I'm in the sitting room with Abuji, Omoni's in the courtyard covering the
kimchee
jar—we all see her come in.

Sun-hee looks at Abuji. "Uncle says ... he won't be coming home tonight." Her voice is shaky, like she might start crying any second. "He'll be ... away for a while. He doesn't know how long."

Abuji closes his eyes. He doesn't say anything at first, then speaks without opening them. "If anyone should ask, we will tell the truth. We do not know where my brother has gone, or when he will be back. We do not know. That is all any of you need to say."

He opens his eyes and looks at us hard. "And whatever happens tonight, you are not to leave the house."

When he says those last words, he's looking right at
me.

He doesn't seem surprised. Upset, maybe, but not surprised. The same for Omoni. They don't ask Sun-hee even a single question. It's almost like they expected this.
Whatever happens tonight...
what's going to happen?

Sun-hee looks scared. She catches my eye and slips out the back door. I follow her a few minutes later.

She's crouching in the middle of the vegetable garden pulling weeds. The sun is almost gone, but there's still enough light to see.

We work for a few minutes side by side. I know she's dying to ask questions. But she waits a little while before saying, "Uncle said you're to tell me what you know."

"I don't know everything," I say. "And what I do know, I found out only yesterday. I wasn't keeping it a secret from you, honest—I just hadn't found the right time to tell you."

It's the truth. She looks doubtful, but nods for me to continue.

"Uncle works for the resistance," I tell her. "For the illegal independence movement. He's been working with them for a while now. At night, or when no one's around, he prints a resistance newspaper.

"That's why he's forcing himself to be on good terms with
all his Japanese customers. To make them think he's
chin-il-pa,
so they won't suspect him."

The relief I felt when I learned this yesterday! Uncle isn't
chin-il-pa!
He's only pretending to be—so well that he even fooled me. I should have known better. I should never have doubted him.

Sun-hee is so quiet I wonder if she's heard me. I look over at her. Her face is gray in the dim light. Finally, she whispers, "What else do you know?"

I tell her that Uncle said the police were hanging around the shop. A lot. For no reason. He thought they suspected him and that something might happen.

But so soon? I don't think he thought it would be so soon.

My turn to ask questions. "Did he say where he was going?"

She shakes her head.

"Into hiding," I say, thinking hard. "It's a big movement;—he must have friends who'll help him. But how did he find out? I mean, how did he know he should escape tonight?"

Sun-hee says, "I told him."

I look at her, my mouth open. I can't believe it—
she
told him? How did she know? She speaks again quickly. "I mean, not because I knew—I didn't know anything. But Tomo came to see me tonight. He told me."

I whistle between my teeth. "Tomo! I never would have guessed."

"Opah, do our parents know about all this?"

I hesitate.

She pushes out her lips. "Uncle said you could tell me.
Everything"

"All right," I say. "Our parents know that Uncle works for the resistance. But that's all—Uncle doesn't want them to know anything more than that. And I think that suits Abuji
just fine—he prefers it that way." I can feel my throat tightening a little, but I keep talking. "Abuji also told Uncle to leave me out of it. But Uncle told me anyway because—because he said it was important for me to know."

Sun-hee gasps. I know what she's thinking: Uncle going against Abuji's wishes? "Sun-hee, I don't mean to be disrespectful to Abuji." My words come slowly. "But it's like he's blind to what's happening here. He goes to work, he comes home and buries himself in his books—he doesn't care about what the Japanese are doing to us. As long as he can study his books, that's all that matters to him."

Now she looks almost ill, hearing me talk about Abuji like that. She whispers, "Opah, surely Abuji's only trying to protect Uncle. That's his job—to keep us all safe."

I stand, take a few steps away from her, and clench and unclench my fists. It's so hard to say what's in my head. I turn back toward her. "What Uncle and others like him are doing—it's more important than anything. We aren't Japanese—we're Korean. But we'll never be allowed to truly
be
Korean unless we have our independence."

Uncle said these things to me only yesterday. And yet, as soon as he'd said them, I felt as if I'd known them all along. All my life.

Sun-hee shakes her head and frowns. "More important than family?" she asks. But it's not one of her usual whiny little-sister questions. She's thinking hard, I can tell.

"Our duty to Abuji is important," I say. "It's a part of our culture. But if the Japanese have their way, someday there won't be any such thing as our culture. When Uncle works for independence, he works for the right to live as Abuji wants us to.... Do you see what I mean?"

I'm not as sure of myself as I'm trying to sound. It's so
confusing. Uncle acting like
chin-il-pa
when he's not ... Tomo, the son of an important Japanese official, helping a resistance worker ... Uncle disobeying Abuji in order to be able to obey him one day. If I can't fully understand, how can she?

I walk back toward her, reach out my hand so I can pull her to her feet. "We'd better go in now," I say. "Sun-hee, we shouldn't talk about this anymore, unless it's truly necessary. And don't trust anyone. Not even Tomo. He helped us this once, but it can't have been easy for him, and who knows if he'll be sorry he did it."

She looks stunned. She hadn't thought about that. Poor kid.

We go back inside, sit down, pretend to study. After only a few moments, the megaphone blares. A neighborhood accounting. At night.