When My Name Was Keoko Read online

  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.

  14. Tae-yul

  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.

  They're almost always in the daytime. It's about Uncle, I know it. They've raided his shop and now they're searching for him.

  Abuji looks at us. His face is calm but serious as well. He's telling us to be calm, too.

  Sun-h
ee leaves quickly to fetch Mrs. Ahn. We go outside and line up in the street. So many soldiers—lots more than usual. People are looking around, wondering.

  We save a place for Mrs. Ahn. It's taking Sun-hee a while to bring her out. Omoni turns to me. "You had better go see—" she starts to say. But just then Sun-hee and Mrs. Ahn hurry up to us.

  I look at Sun-hee as she slips into line next to me. "I couldn't find her at first," she whispers. "She didn't answer the door, and then I finally found her in the garden." Sure enough, on the other side of me Mrs. Ahn is fussing about dirt on her hands, using a corner of her apron to wipe them.

  We number off. Then the block leader starts talking. The usual spiel about His Majesty's Imperial forces. I'm dreading what he'll say next—about Uncle. He'll probably call him a traitor. I wish he'd get it over with.

  "Metal!" the block leader says. "By order of the Emperor, the army is commandeering all household objects made of metal. It is needed for supplies, so His Majesty's Imperial forces can continue to spread his divine message to all people. Return to your homes and collect all your metal. You may keep a few things. Basic cooking tools. A shovel, an ax. Scissors and needles. Everything else, you must bring to your front gate."

  Next to me, Sun-hee makes a choking noise, turns toward me, and grabs my arm. She looks so pale I'm afraid she might faint.

  They want metal? What about Uncle?

  Is he in danger?

  Or has he gone into hiding for no reason?

  No time to think about it now. Abuji sends me to the work area to gather up all the metal things there. Omoni goes into her bedroom to fetch the jewelry.

  Outside, the soldiers are shouting up and down the street, yelling for us to bring all the metal things in bags.

  Omoni comes out into the courtyard. She doesn't own much jewelry, but she needs both hands to carry it. Some silver bracelets and rings, a gold hair ornament, a necklace and a brooch. The last two were a wedding gift from Abuji's parents—-a silver dragon on the necklace and another one on the brooch.

  Sun-hee seems almost frozen—she hasn't moved since we all came inside. But now she looks at Omoni. "Not the dragon," she whispers. Her lips are white. I remember when she was little, she always used to beg Omoni to let her wear the brooch. It was her favorite because the dragon has a little pearl ball in its claw.

  "Bring me the bag, Tae-yul," Omoni says. Calm, like Abuji. I've already put a bunch of metal stuff in an old rice sack. She drops the jewelry in, a piece at a time. Clink, clink.

  But not the brooch.

  All of us are watching her. She turns away a little, raises the hem of her skirt, and drops the brooch right into her underwear. Then she smoothes her skirt down again.

  Abuji makes a sound, sucking in air. He looks at Omoni for a long moment. She holds her head high. Finally, he nods. "Take the bag to the gate, Tae-yul," he says.

  So I do. A military truck drives slowly down the street. Soldiers are taking bags and throwing them into the truck. Crash, clink, clang.

  I watch as the truck drives away. Our things—Omoni's jewelry, my tools. No, our tools, mine and Uncle's.

  Uncle. Uncle.

  I take off, running as fast as I can toward town. Halfway there I remember that Abuji said I'm not supposed to leave the house, but it's too late now. I have to find out what's happening to Uncle.

  When I reach the street where Uncle's shop is, I slow down a little. Nothing. No soldiers, no commotion. Uncle's shop is shuttered, looking like it always does when it's closed.

  I go around to the back. No sign of any trouble.

  What's going on?

  I run all the way back home. Sun-hee is in the courtyard.

  I don't mean to shout. But I can't stop the words from bursting out. "What happened? What have you done?"

  15. Sun-hee

  What have you done?

  Tae-yul ran in, yelling at me. How could I have been so stupid, how could I have made such a mistake? Did I realize what I'd done?

  He grabbed my arm hard, shaking me. Suddenly, our parents were there. Abuji pulled Tae-yul away, while Omoni stepped between us.

  "Tae-yul! Calm yourself," Abuji said sternly. "What is the matter?"

  "You heard her! Uncle has gone into hiding—she told him he had to, so he did!" Tae-yul wrenched himself free of Abuji's grasp, still panting. "He's gone! But she was wrong—they weren't about to arrest him. They only wanted the metal! I went to his shop—there was nothing going on there. No raid, nothing! How could she have gotten so mixed up? Why didn't she tell someone first?"

  I still couldn't move, but my mind had started working again. I closed my eyes and thought back to the conversation with Tomo. What had he said, exactly? Your uncle ... a shame ... not safe ... I couldn't remember anything clearly. The little things—he'd kept mentioning them. The little things made of wire—

  Wire.

  Metal wire.

  That was what Tomo had been talking about. He'd been warning me that our metal things were about to be taken away. Maybe he thought that if we knew in advance, we could hide some things before it happened. But telling me straight out would have made him a traitor to the Japanese, his own people. He'd been telling me the only way he could—and I hadn't understood.

  Behind my closed eyelids I could feel the heat of tears starting to rise.

  When I opened my eyes, it felt like hours later, but Tae-yul's lips were still moving. I couldn't hear him; it was as if his voice were outside my hearing.

  Abuji held up his hand. Tae-yul cut off his words abruptly. And I could hear again—a silence like iron, Tae-yul's heavy breathing the only sound.

  Then Abuji said, "It does not matter how it happened. It is done now."

  Tae-yul spoke between clenched teeth. "We have to get word to Uncle. We have to tell him it's all right, that he can come home. If we can send a message—if we tell the right people—"

  Abuji shook his head. "I have already thought about this. It would be very dangerous to try to contact him. And it would take time—long enough so the authorities would hear of his untimely disappearance before he could return. If they were uncertain about his activities before now, they will surely know by then."

  They again. The Japanese. Always the Japanese. My eyes were dry now, and I didn't feel I was about to cry. I hardly felt anything at all.

  Abuji paused and spoke again, each word careful and deliberate. "To be honest, I do not even know whom to get in touch with. My brother was cautious that way. He thought it best for me to know as little as possible."

  "You mean, we're not going to do anything?" Tae-yul blurted out. "We're just going to—to live without him from now on?"

  Abuji cleared his throat. "Tae-yul, you need to understand this. What your uncle was doing was very dangerous. It was only a matter of time. Sooner or later he would have been arrested or else forced to escape." He paused. "If he had been arrested, who knows what they would have done to him."

  Abuji moved toward me and put one hand on my shoulder. I could see it there, although I barely felt it. He turned his head and continued speaking to Tae-yul. "He is safe now. Safer than he would be if he were here."

  He was trying to comfort me, I could tell, trying to tell me that the rash and terrible thing I'd done wasn't so terrible after all. I wanted to believe him, but in my head I could still hear the echoes—stupid, stupid, stupid....

  Tae-yul didn't believe him either. He shuffled his feet impatiently, then lifted his arms and let them drop by his sides again. "When will he be able to come home?" he asked.

  There was no answer.

  When Tae-yul was a baby, he'd slept with Omoni and Abuji. A few years later, when I was born, I slept in my parents' room and he moved into Uncle's bedroom. That was how we always slept now.

  As I went to bed that night, I realized that Tae-yul would have the whole room to himself. If I hadn't been so numb, I might have laughed. What a thing to think at such a time.

  I undressed and lay down. In the darkne
ss I began to feel things again. First, a huge dry lump in my throat. I swallowed and swallowed, trying to get rid of it. Instead, it swelled until I nearly choked on it. At long last the tears began.

  I cried and cried. Not sobbing or gasping for air, but silently. Tears poured out of my eyes without stopping. When I was on my back, they ran into my ears. So I turned onto my stomach and let my pillow catch them all.

  I wasn't making any noise, but a long time after everyone was in bed Omoni rose and tiptoed to my side of the room. She knelt down beside me, but I couldn't make myself turn toward her.

  "Sun-hee," she whispered, "a mistake made with good in your heart is still a mistake, but it is one for which you must forgive yourself."

  She reached out and smoothed my hair away from my hot, wet face. "Perhaps now you cannot. One day you will." She stroked my hair again, but after a long moment, when it was clear that I wasn't going to answer, she went back to her own bed.

  I curled into a little ball, tight around the pain in my middle. Her words had only made me feel worse. Because the truth was, there hadn't been good in my heart.

  There had been some good, of course. I was worried about Uncle; I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. But there were other things, too. I wanted to be the one to save him. J wanted to be the one with the important news, the one who'd figured everything out. Not my parents. And especially not Tae-yul.

  Instead of saving Uncle, I'd put him in terrible danger. When the Japanese found out he had left suddenly, they'd know for certain that he was a rebel, working for independence. If they found him, he'd be arrested, jailed for years ... tortured ... maybe even killed.

  I wouldn't be able to forgive myself until Uncle came home safely.

  But who knew when that would be?

  16. Tae-yul