Down by Law (18 page)

We'd all missed homeroom because of that stupid Yvette. I swear, already she was messing with my money. And now I had to deal with this witch, my history teacher, Ms. Costen. This was the one class that I tried not to say too much in. Mostly because I hated this tramp and didn't ever wanna cuss her out. 'Cause cussin' her out meant suspension. And suspension meant my money for the week would be short.

Not an option.

I eased into the last desk at the back of the classroom. Ms. Costen turned around, as if she had eyes in the back of her head and had seen me come in. “Isis. Did you intend to come to class or was your plan to lollygag in the hallway?”

I sucked my teeth.

I opened my textbook to the chapter she had written on the board, crossed my legs, and then looked at this heifer like she was sick.

“I asked you a question,” she pressed, not knowing that she needed to leave well enough alone. I'd already had enough, thanks to Yvette. And I for sure wasn't in the mood for this.

She continued, “Answer me.”

“Would you just teach your class?”

Most of the class laughed.

Ms. Costen shook her head. “Quiet.” She looked around the class and then turned back to me. “You need to learn some respect. Sitting up in here with these expensive bags, draped in jewels. I don't know how long you think that's going to last with no education. These drug dealers will not take care of you forever.”

“Know what? If you keep talking, I'ma haul off and smack the crap outta you! You don't know what you talkin' about and I for sure don't know who you talkin' to. So what you better do is learn to leave well enough alone.” I slammed my book closed. “I don't have to take this!” I raised up outta my seat and stormed out of the classroom. I already knew that this whore was gon' call security and then call the office to have me suspended, but whatever. I'd just head to my locker, get my stash and serve my customers at the end of the day.

“Isis Carter,” came from behind me. I stopped in my tracks and shook my head. I knew it was security. I didn't even turn around. “I'm going to my locker to get my things and then I'm out. No need to escort me.”

“Isis Carter. Stop and place your hands behind your back.”

“What?” I whipped around and there were at least five cops behind me. I started to run, but when I looked toward the stairs, there were more cops standing there.

My heart dropped to my feet as two cops walked up on me. One of them placed my hands behind my back and said, “You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. . . .”

A
nything you say can and will be used against you. . . .
I sat in the police station, cuffed to a metal table, across from two pigs who clearly thought they had the nice-cop/pissed-cop routine down to a science. “You may as well tell us the truth.” Officer Nice smiled as he leaned forward in his chair, and his partner stood against the wall and ice grilled me. “I like you.”

I sucked my teeth. “Yeah, I'm sure you like er'body you arrest.”

“Not everybody. But I like you. But Detective Johnson over here, not so much.”

“I don't like him either, so we even. And you.” I twisted my lips. “I don't even know yo' corny ass and you definitely don't know me.”

“I know enough to know you're a good kid. Just made some bad decisions. Your father started a new family and your mother walked off, leaving you pretty much alone. You live with your grandmother, but she's never really wanted to be bothered with you. And you never really had any guidance, which is why we're here.”

Silence.

He continued, “And all of that is why I wanna help you.”

More silence.

“But first, I need you to help me.”

I looked the narc dead in the eyes. “I don't care what you need. You could need air to breathe and I wouldn't even blow on you.”

“Do you realize the trouble you're in?” His voice became elevated, stern, and judging by how red his knuckles were when he gripped the edge of the table, he was a few questions away from me getting completely under his skin.

I shrugged and Officer Pissed jumped in. “Listen. My partner has the patience of Job. I don't. All I know is that your little friends are talking, especially the little white one. She's putting it all on you. And who do you think the judge is going to believe? So I suggest you cut the crap and give us some answers.”

“You just said my friends was talking. Seems to me if y'all asked the right questions, then they've already given you the answers you need. So what you sweatin' me for? You gon' send me to juvie or not?”

Pissed Off continued, “We were told this was your operation. Told that you got the drugs from your boyfriend.” He looked over at his partner. “I believe Fresh is his name.”

I laughed. Smirked. Slyly bit the inside of my jaw and prayed the cops didn't hear my heart drop. “Is that the best you got? You been watching too much TV. What is this? A
21 Jump Street
routine? Psst, please. Ain't nobody told you that 'cause I don't even have a boyfriend.”

“I believe Rahjohn Bowman is his name, but the streets call him Fresh.” They slapped a few surveillance pictures on the table. One of Fresh getting out of his car, with some chick looking over at him. One of him talking to his connect. And another one of him talking to one of his runners. “Look familiar?”

I cross my legs. “Never seen him in my life.”

The cop pounded the edge of the table and thrust his face into mine. “I have enough on you to send you away until you're twenty-one. Is that what you want? 'Cause I can make it happen! Now I suggest you get your act together, stop screwing with me, and answer my questions!”

“I don't have to answer nothing. Not a thing. 'Cause I'm only sixteen and y'all know y'all are dead wrong for questioning me without parental consent or my attorney present.”

Both of their faces turned beet red.

“Yeah. Exactly. Now I need to make a phone call.”

Officer Nice grimaced at me. “I don't care what you need. You could need air and I wouldn't even blow on you.”

 

I sat handcuffed for three hours before Officer Nice stopped violatin' my rights and reluctantly let me make a phone call. “You got two minutes.” He handed me the phone and stared in my face.

I sucked my teeth. “God-lee! Can I breathe?!”

He didn't move.

I nixed him and beeped Fresh,
five-oh. nine-one-one.

Then took a chance and called the brick phone he used for emergencies only.

No answer.

I stared off into space. I didn't know what to do.

“Hang up.” Officer Nice frowned. “Time for court.”

“All rise.”

Instead of Fresh, Nana's pissed-off face was the first one I saw when the COs escorted me into the courtroom, handcuffed and shackled.

I sucked in my stomach and prayed the nervous tremors in my belly would fade away.

“Raise your right hand,” the bailiff barked.

My hand barely inched into the air.

“Do you swear or affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”

“I swear.”

“State your name for the record.”

“Isis Carter.”

“Do you have counsel?”

“Right here, Your Honor.” A disheveled and bald white man in a brown polyester suit stepped forward, slamming his briefcase on the table. “My apologies to the court for being late.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Fresh wouldn't play me.
Thank you, Jesus
. I tried my best not to let the smile I felt inching across my lips make an appearance. I needed to stay stone faced until they released me.

The judge said, “Counsel, state your appearance.”

“Lawrence Cooper. Public defender.”

I sucked in a breath. A what? Public defender? Where was my private attorney? Er'body knew that a public defender, better known as a public pretender, meant you would definitely be doing a stint. I swallowed. Held back tears. And did my best to hold it together.

“Counsel.” The judge peered over the rim of his glasses. “Your client is charged with resisting arrest and possession with intent to distribute. What does she wish to plead?”

The public pretender leaned over and whispered to me, “Plead guilty. The prosecutor just told me that he's willing to offer a light sentencing. Little jail time and probation, as long as you give up your boyfriend.”

If I wasn't handcuffed I'd take it straight to his pale face. “I didn't do anything!” I said, loud enough for the judge to hear.

The public pretender shook his head, looked toward the judge, and sighed in disgust. “Not guilty.”

“Okay. The plea has been noted. Another court date will be set. But for now, counsel, whose custody will your client be turned over to?”

Esquire Triflin' looked back at Nana, who was dressed in her short and curly Evangelist wig, with the lace Holy Ghost doily pinned at the scalp. She also had a white ruffled blouse, a blue pleated skirt, white nursing shoes, and a Bible.

I held my head down. Judging by the way she cleared her throat, wasn't no tellin' what was gon' come out of her mouth.

Public Pretender continued, “This is my client's grandmother, Darleen Carter. And she would like to address the court.”

Nana was sworn in and then given permission to speak. She popped her lips and proceeded with her madness. “First of all, she ain't comin' to my house! I'm only fifty-three. I need to live my life, not take care of some ungrateful skank who ain't gon' never be nothin'. She don't listen. She fight er' day. And not too long ago, she beat my daughter, her aunt, in the face with a beer bottle. Blood was er'where. Isis does what she wants. When she wants. And how she wants. Hell, I ain't seen her in six months. So, I wouldn't be surprised if she was selling drugs and usin' 'em. I can't deal with that. I got other grandkids and a great-grandbaby to see about, and I can't be bothered with her anymore. She just a bad seed and all I can do is pray that God is kind enough to have mercy on her devilish soul.”

“Where are her parents?” the judge asked.

“Her father's in Baltimore. He don't have nothin' to do with her and her mother's a whore, livin' in the streets somewhere. If she ain't dead yet.”

“That's enough, ma'am. Take your seat.” The judge banged his gavel. He shot me a dirty look. “Remanded until the next court hearing.”

“S
hoes. Sneakers. Laces. Shirts. Pants. Belts. Bras. Panties. Off. Front and center!”

I couldn't believe this was happenin' to me. I was locked up and standin' in an assembly line of five naked girls: one girl who laughed. One who was dope sick and couldn't stop snot from running over her lips or her teeth from chatterin'. Cali, who was just as pissed off as me, and Munch, who wouldn't stop crying.

There was five COs, all gawkin' and shootin' twisted and sly grins at us.

“Open up!” The correction officers practically shoved a flashlight down our throats as they checked the roofs of our mouths, inner cheeks, and underneath our tongues. Afterwards, they each put on latex gloves and slid their hands down our arms, underneath to our armpits, and under our breasts.

“Now squat. Spread 'em and cough! Now cough again. And again.” They walked behind us to see if we farted out any contraband. The girl who was laughing did. Now she wasn't laughing anymore. Immediately they swarmed down on her and then snatched her outta the room, leaving the echo of her screams behind.

“Stand up,” the lead CO barked. “Backs straight. Hands to the side. And heads up.” He paused. Rushed over to Dope Sick, who was droolin' and shiverin'. “I said stand up!”

Instead, she threw up and fell down in it. He stepped over her and continued, “Hear me and hear me well, I'm not yo' worthless daddies or yo' no-good mamas. I don't care nothin' about you. This is my house. And you will do what I tell you to do. And if you don't, there will be hell to pay.

“Now here are the rules: no cussin'. No contraband. No stealing. Respect the guards. Stay on your pod. No fighting. And mind your business. You got a problem with your cellmates, deal with it. 'Cause I don't wanna hear it.” He tossed us each new underwear, orange jumpsuits, socks, and brown rubber slides. “Now go shower and get dressed. You'll be shown your bunks and then you need to report to mess hall.”

 

“Fresh meat! Ohhhh, I like that one right there! Hey yo, ain't that Whatshaname?” serenaded us as we walked single file through the crowded pod, to our dorm of three bunk beds and a steel toilet attached to a sink. We each claimed our bunks in peace, and a few minutes later we were escorted to mess hall.

I felt like I was in the school cafeteria, except there were guards at every corner of the room and everyone had on the same jumpsuit.

Munch was so upset that she stood behind us in the food line, with her arms folded, not saying a word, while Cali brushed up against my shoulder and I whispered next to her ear, “Word is bond, Yvette dropped dime on us.”

“Yvette? What? That's what you think?”

“Yo, that's what I know. Mighty funny how the day I cuss her out is the day we get locked up. She did it.”

“But when I see her, I'ma drag her. I promise you that. And I don't care where she's at. On the corner with a pipe in her hand or behind the Dumpster with a trick in her mouth. Wherever I see her, I'm draggin' her out and I'ma stomp her until her rib cage gives way.”

The girl in front of me turned around and smiled. “Wassup, Isis?” she asked.

“Wassup?” I said, recognizing her as a chick who lived in Da Bricks.

“What you in here for? Heard you had the whole school slangin'.”

My eyes inched over her from head to toe. Her skin was ashy and dry flakes lined her mouth. She was fifty pounds skinnier than the last time I saw her. Her hair was patchy and matted. Her neck had old and new burn marks, like she'd dropped the pipe and the butane lighter one too many times.

A chickenhead.

And I didn't do chicken.

I sold weed. And I sold it in school. Clearly this heifer didn't go to school.

I thought about laying a bolo right in her face. Up here kickin' it to me like we was everyday homegirls when obviously, she was settin' me up. Pressin' me for info today, so the DA could use her to testify against me tomorrow.

I shrugged and said, “I don't sling . . .” My voice drifted as I spotted Aiesha, the girl whose face I'd sliced, coming toward me.

My heart raced and heated blood rushed to my face. “Cali,” I mumbled. “See the girl coming over here toward us?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when I was ten, I sliced her face for trying to rob me.” We each eyed Aiesha as she picked up a metal tray. “I think I might have to kill her today.”

“Well, I guess we both goin' down together then.”

“Isis.” Aiesha stepped up to me. “What, you thought I wasn't gon' ever see you again?”

“I wasn't in hiding so I never thought about whether you was gon' ever see me again or not. But now that I've seen you, you can go sit down.”

“You don't tell me what to do! I don't have to sit down 'cause you said so!”

“You better back up,” Cali said sternly. “I know that much.”

I could tell Aiesha didn't know exactly what to say or do. She looked around and made eye contact with a few girls she obviously knew. Their eyes grew wide and they snickered. Obviously, they'd been talking about me.

Cali picked up her carton of milk, shook it, opened it, and, after she took her first sip, twisted her lips. “Girl, this trick ain't stupid. Let's go sit down.”

My head jerked back, causing me to stumble as Aiesha smacked me across my face. Angry tears beat against the backs of my eyes. I felt like I was back on the playground.

I snatched my steel lunch tray and busted her in the face with it. Blood squirted from her nose and flew everywhere. She fell to the floor and me and Cali started stomping her. Then I yanked her by the hair and sailed a round of punches into her face. Just as I was about to send her through the floor, the guards pepper-sprayed the three of us and snatched us apart. My entire face felt like it was on fire.

The guards handcuffed and shackled us and dragged us down the hall in different directions. And a few seconds later, they tossed me in a small and dark room . . . where all I could do was cry and pray that Nana's God had enough mercy to kill me by morning.