we come back to the unit, Oskar’s room is empty. A box of hisbelongings has been placed outside his door; I peek inside and see a pile of his books.
Horton Hears a Who!
sits on top.
“Where’d he go?” I ask.
“Mental hospital,” says Tony.
“For, like, the tenth fucking time,” says Bobby. “Kid’s bat shit crazy.”
“Shut up, Bobby,” Tony says.
“You ain’t the boss of me!”
“No, but shut up anyway.”
And, for once, Bobby does.
30
Tonight Mr. E and Samson throw a pizza party for the whole unit to celebrate Tony’s release. The two guards pay for a movie and food with their own money. Levon, a football player from Queens, asks if they’re going to do the same for him.
“Sure,” Samson says. “When you get your Honors Stage.”
Levon groans. “Ain’t none of us ever getting Honors Stage. Tony just a freak.”
“Speak for yo’self,” says Wilfred. “I got four good days behind me.”
Samson laughs and tells Wilfred that he is off to a good start but he’ll need eighty-six more good days.
The movie is
Transformers II
, which everyone seems to like. Even Antwon, who hates everything. Or at least that’s what he’d like us to believe.
“I’ll take that yellow Camaro,” he says. “That’s tight.”
Predictably, Double X and Coty agree.
We all get two slices of pizza, a cup of soda, and a piece of chocolate cake that Tony’s mother sent in for the occasion. He says that his entire family drove up from New York City and is staying at a fancy Holiday Inn, just so they can pick him up early in the morning.
“They don’t want me to ride in no transport van, so they borrowed my uncle’s Lincoln. They gonna take me home in style!”
Antwon says that Lincolns are crap, but Tony doesn’t take the bait.
“Y’all can say whatever you want,” says Tony. “Because tomorrow I’m free. No more Morton for me. No more nasty-ass chili dogs and sandwiches made from government cheese and the bad parts of animals that don’t even exist. You know, like them bologna animals and meat loaf animals.”
Samson laughs. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?”
“I’m gonna eat my mom’s cooking,” he says. “Then I’m gonna see my girl, and then my homeboys. Don’t worry, Samson. I ain’t gonna party or nothing. But I’m not living like a monk, neither!”
Before lights-out Mr. E says, “Right now I have something to say to Tony, but you all might want to hear it, too. If not, that’s fine; you can go get ready for bed.”
No one moves.
“One of the things I like about people is that everybody has their own story. Doesn’t matter if it’s a lawyer, or a cop, or somebody’s mother cleaning office buildings orworking as a home health aide. And all of
you
have stories, too, even if you don’t realize it. But right now I want to tell you mine.”
“I come to the United States when I was thirteen. From Grenada, a small island. My family was broke so we lived in the projects and got everything from the Goodwill: shoes, clothes, furniture. Even the knickknacks and the pictures on the wall.”
There is a chorus of uh-huhs from kids who know this part from their own experiences.
“Me and my cousin, Raymond, got our asses kicked every single day because we had secondhand clothes and Caribbean accents that the other kids said were stuck-up. Then we joined a gang and no one messed with us. We had friends and respect.”
Coty, Double X, Levon, and Antwon all say, “Yeah, I hear that,” and “True, true.”
Mr. Eboue continues, “Until I got busted and locked up. At a place just like this, but it’s closed now because a kid was killed there.”
“Who kilt him?” says Wilfred. Mr. E ignores him and continues.
“I followed the rules in lockup, but I didn’t learn anything. So when I got out, I thought I had outsmarted the system. But what I didn’t know is that the system doesn’t care if you change. The system is like a machine; all it
Horton Hears a Who!
sits on top.
“Where’d he go?” I ask.
“Mental hospital,” says Tony.
“For, like, the tenth fucking time,” says Bobby. “Kid’s bat shit crazy.”
“Shut up, Bobby,” Tony says.
“You ain’t the boss of me!”
“No, but shut up anyway.”
And, for once, Bobby does.
30
Tonight Mr. E and Samson throw a pizza party for the whole unit to celebrate Tony’s release. The two guards pay for a movie and food with their own money. Levon, a football player from Queens, asks if they’re going to do the same for him.
“Sure,” Samson says. “When you get your Honors Stage.”
Levon groans. “Ain’t none of us ever getting Honors Stage. Tony just a freak.”
“Speak for yo’self,” says Wilfred. “I got four good days behind me.”
Samson laughs and tells Wilfred that he is off to a good start but he’ll need eighty-six more good days.
The movie is
Transformers II
, which everyone seems to like. Even Antwon, who hates everything. Or at least that’s what he’d like us to believe.
“I’ll take that yellow Camaro,” he says. “That’s tight.”
Predictably, Double X and Coty agree.
We all get two slices of pizza, a cup of soda, and a piece of chocolate cake that Tony’s mother sent in for the occasion. He says that his entire family drove up from New York City and is staying at a fancy Holiday Inn, just so they can pick him up early in the morning.
“They don’t want me to ride in no transport van, so they borrowed my uncle’s Lincoln. They gonna take me home in style!”
Antwon says that Lincolns are crap, but Tony doesn’t take the bait.
“Y’all can say whatever you want,” says Tony. “Because tomorrow I’m free. No more Morton for me. No more nasty-ass chili dogs and sandwiches made from government cheese and the bad parts of animals that don’t even exist. You know, like them bologna animals and meat loaf animals.”
Samson laughs. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?”
“I’m gonna eat my mom’s cooking,” he says. “Then I’m gonna see my girl, and then my homeboys. Don’t worry, Samson. I ain’t gonna party or nothing. But I’m not living like a monk, neither!”
Before lights-out Mr. E says, “Right now I have something to say to Tony, but you all might want to hear it, too. If not, that’s fine; you can go get ready for bed.”
No one moves.
“One of the things I like about people is that everybody has their own story. Doesn’t matter if it’s a lawyer, or a cop, or somebody’s mother cleaning office buildings orworking as a home health aide. And all of
you
have stories, too, even if you don’t realize it. But right now I want to tell you mine.”
“I come to the United States when I was thirteen. From Grenada, a small island. My family was broke so we lived in the projects and got everything from the Goodwill: shoes, clothes, furniture. Even the knickknacks and the pictures on the wall.”
There is a chorus of uh-huhs from kids who know this part from their own experiences.
“Me and my cousin, Raymond, got our asses kicked every single day because we had secondhand clothes and Caribbean accents that the other kids said were stuck-up. Then we joined a gang and no one messed with us. We had friends and respect.”
Coty, Double X, Levon, and Antwon all say, “Yeah, I hear that,” and “True, true.”
Mr. Eboue continues, “Until I got busted and locked up. At a place just like this, but it’s closed now because a kid was killed there.”
“Who kilt him?” says Wilfred. Mr. E ignores him and continues.
“I followed the rules in lockup, but I didn’t learn anything. So when I got out, I thought I had outsmarted the system. But what I didn’t know is that the system doesn’t care if you change. The system is like a machine; all it
Similar Books
