Rikers High (18 page)

Only it was cold.

I took a deep breath and started to make his bed before I did any of the packing. I took my time with it until all the corners came out even.

I folded Sanchez's clothes and put them into the bag. I didn't know what to do with the leftover food in his bucket, so I started in on his books.

Brick came over and stuck his hand in the bucket. He grabbed the milk I gave Sanchez the night before.

“You can't pack this. It'll go bad,” he said, opening it.

I just flipped. I hit that bastard dead square in the chest, and he went straight down.

The COs came charging over and I backed away.

They didn't lay a hand on me. But Dawson grabbed Brick around the collar and threw him on the wall.

“I told
Forty
to pack that boy's shit,” said Dawson. “What were you doin' over there? Huh? You got an answer for that? You were doin' business, right? You little grave robber!”

Jersey and Ritz were both giving me the thumbs-up for belting Brick, but I didn't want to get caught up in that. I just went back to packing Sanchez's things.

Ms. Armstrong pulled a chair over to where Brick was holding up the wall. She gave him a speech that lasted the whole time he was there.

“Maybe you heard the words
do unto others
, but they just passed right through your ears,” she started out.

Kids were tuned into that and started running Brick down, too.

I didn't think we were going to make it to school that morning. We were already a couple of hours late and it was the last day of classes.

Dawson said we were going over anyway.

“The teachers and the guidance counselor want to talk about last night,” he said.

Carter called us to our beds to take the count.

The numbers began to build up slow and I could feel it coming. By the time we hit the thirties, I was holding onto myself tight from the inside.

The kid two beds down said, “thirty-eight.”

Then I called out “forty,” without any break in between.

D
emarco met us at the door to our class. His eyes were swollen, and I could tell he'd been crying. The chairs were in a circle in the middle of the room. I was glad because I didn't have to think about sitting next to Sanchez's empty seat.

The guidance counselor, Mr. Green, was going into rooms and talking to the different classes. But for now, it was just us and Demarco.

“Does anybody want to talk about what they're feeling?” Demarco asked.

Most kids just said it was a shame what happened. They talked about how Sanchez never bothered anybody, and how kids thought he was okay.

I didn't want to say anything out loud. I was afraid that I would have screamed out about how much I really knew.

Lots of kids were getting up to use the bathroom. I got in line, too. No one had wanted to use the one back at the house because of Sanchez. But that had to wear off sooner or later. This was the last day of school, and kids on the north side couldn't hold out from moving their bowels through the summer.

The bathroom in the school trailer is about the size of a closet and has only one toilet. You're in there by yourself, but after two minutes the CO will bang on the door to keep the line moving. I took as much time as I could get, and kept pushing until I felt empty. I was hoping that I could last until the pens tomorrow morning. I didn't think I could ever step inside the bathroom in the house again without seeing Sanchez hanging there.

When I got back to the classroom, Demarco had Sanchez's folder out on his desk.

“Are you all right, Martin?” he asked.

I nodded my head, and deep inside it felt good to hear someone call me by my name.

Then Demarco and me looked through the folder together.

Sanchez's copy of his GED diploma was right on top.

You need a score of 225 to pass. He'd got a 285, making it by plenty. But I guess you could be pretty smart and still get caught up in dumb shit, too.

Carter came in with the guidance counselor, and I was surprised when Carter wanted to talk first. He stepped to the middle of the room and cleared his throat.

“Let me say this,” Carter began with his voice cracking. “I know a lot of you think that COs are a bunch of monsters. Right or wrong, sometimes we think the same about you. But what happened to Sanchez last night is bigger than all of that crap. We're here to protect you. I got two kids myself. And I wouldn't want to get a call that something like that happened to one of them. The counselor and teachers are here so you can talk. But remember, this badge doesn't make us monsters. I want you to know that you can talk to the officers in this house, too.”

That was the first time I ever saw Carter be real, and not a freaked-out robot. Carter introduced Mr. Green, and he then took a seat with the rest of us.

Green told us about his bid upstate and how he'd seen lots of fucked-up things like what happened to Sanchez.

“You've got to focus yourself on what's ahead. You can either be sad or angry over something like this. You can feel anything you want to feel about it. But you have to stay focused on what's ahead of you. You have to keep it right for you, and your family,” Green said.

I could see why Sanchez liked him so much and didn't want to let him down. Green wasn't about any kind of bullshit. He looked kids straight in the eye. And I swear he never once gave the scar on my face a second look.

After he was done talking, I shook his hand for Sanchez.

Demarco told Green, “This is Martin Stokes, a really good student.”

Then Green asked about my case, and what I expected to happen. I told Demarco and Green that I was probably going home from court tomorrow. I wanted them to know that I was going to finish school and make something of myself. I didn't care how many other dudes were listening anymore. Nobody in that house was getting in the way of my going home. Nobody!

The COs called us out into the hall. School was over with. We were going to the mess hall, then back to the house. But Demarco asked me to wait a minute. He went back into Sanchez's folder and gave me the copy of his GED diploma.

I hugged Demarco and said, “Thank you.”

Dawson was in the hall lining kids up and calling for Brick. He had a visit and there was an escort waiting for him at the officers' desk with Ms. Armstrong.

“I'm gonna refuse that visit,” Brick told Dawson.

“Go up to the desk and let them know,” Dawson shot back, as he counted kids.

Brick told the escort he wasn't going to the visit floor to see anybody.

“That's the first one of those in a long time,” the escort laughed.

“Kids are just ungrateful sometimes,” Ms. Armstrong said.

Brick turned back to them and said, “That's my grandmother waiting on me. Last week, she forgot my money. I know her government check doesn't come again until next week. I'm not in the mood just to make small talk with her.”

Ms. Armstrong shot out of her chair like she was the judge and jury all rolled up into one. She smacked Brick across the face with an open black hand. He went to the floor on one knee. Then she slapped him in the back of the head even harder.

“You're
going
to see your grandmother,” she warned, standing over him. “Aren't you, little boy? You going to see your grandmother because she loves you, and she came all the way to Rikers Island.”

The tears were pouring out of Brick's eyes.

“Now get up and go with this officer,” Ms. Armstrong demanded.

Brick picked himself up, crying all the while. Then he followed the escort out of the trailer. Kids gave Ms. Armstrong a real cheer. But she didn't want to hear any more about it.

C
aptain Montenez showed up at the house in street clothes, with his gold badge around his neck. It was his day off, but he came back to the jail when he heard that a kid from the Sprungs had hung up.

“Bad shit only happens when I'm not around to supervise,” he told Dawson with a straight face.

Montenez sat down and read every report there was. Then he went off to inspect the bathroom with Dawson. When they got back, Montenez called the carpenters out from the main building. They came on the double with their toolboxes and a shopping cart full of wood.

The COs closed the bathroom because of all the tools that were laid out. They don't want some kid walking off with a screwdriver or a hammer, and then have to search the whole damn house.

Dudes that peeped inside said they were building a cover around the hot water pipe. That way no one could ever slip a bedsheet over it again, like Sanchez did.

The captain grilled the dude from the midnight suicide crew for almost an hour. Then he ran the dude back and forth from the bathroom to replay everything that happened. Every time they disappeared inside, my stomach started to knot up all over again.

After the captain was through with him, that dude got the nerve up to ask about his $150 for finding Sanchez.

Montenez grinned and said, “You have to save somebody to get paid. You don't get any prizes around here for breaking bad news!”

The dude didn't say anything more about it. I guess he saw that it was going nowhere and quit on the whole idea.

I was pissed off at the dude for trying to cash in on Sanchez being dead.

I didn't hold much against him before that. He was only playing his end of the game that night, just like I was by keeping my mouth shut. And I knew that Sanchez killing himself probably had more to do with what was going on inside his own head than any bullshit plan. But I thought it was really fucked-up the way that dude asked to get paid anyway.

When Johnson came on, Montenez was still in the house. Johnson told Montenez that it was the worst thing he'd seen in all his time on the Island.

“I don't need another night like that one,” moaned Johnson. “You go home and just keep thinking about it. To waste a life like that!”

“If it wasn't a kid, you could almost stand it,” Montenez said, moving for the front door in his jeans and sneakers.

Jersey and Ritz were both looking at me sideways. They had heard me tell Demarco and Green about going home tomorrow. Jersey was all insulted, wanting to know why I'd been so tight-lipped.

“I understand not putting that news out on the loudspeaker. But we're not the rest of these dudes up in here,” he said, pointing to himself and Ritz.

I told him he was right, and that I should have said something. They both came around after a while and shook my hand. And it felt good not to hide it anymore.

“We're a righteous crew, my brothers,” said Ritz.

Maybe I hadn't realized how much standing up to Brick really meant to them.

After supper, I called my real house. I knew that Mom would be in court the next day, but I wanted to hear the words come out of her mouth. Just like I wanted to hear my lawyer say that we were all straight with the DA. I wanted everything nailed down, with nothing left to chance. I wanted to hear the judge say, “Have a nice day, and get home safe.”

“I'll be there,” Mom said.

It had all gone bad three times before. There was almost nothing left that could go wrong, and I was hoping this screwed-up system didn't have any more surprises for me. If there were an earthquake tomorrow that split the courthouse in two, I'd just sit there and let everybody else go running. I'd wait for the system to stamp me GOOD TO GO.

Mom didn't think she'd be able to sleep.

“I'll probably lie awake in bed watching the clock move forward,” she said. “Then when it makes it far enough, I'll get up and dress for court.”

I didn't mention anything about Sanchez because I didn't want that on her mind, too.

At the end, we didn't get tied up in a lot of
I love yous
. It was just “good night” and “keep your fingers crossed.”

But I knew she was worried more about me going through the pens and having beefs than about my case. So I told her I'd keep my head up and stay away from trouble.

Maybe I was trying to convince myself, too.

Brick wasn't anywhere near the phones. He was laying low off the licks he took from Ms. Armstrong. For most of the night, he was either sulking in the dayroom or at his bed going through the store. He was like a ghost now. And kids were probably wondering why they'd put up with his bullshit for so long.

Barnett didn't know if he should hassle kids over the phones, so he just backed off. That's the way it is when you're a doldier and the boss cracks. It leaves you standing in the middle of nowhere, with a lot of enemies.

I felt bad for Shaky. He just kept going around the house saying he couldn't believe Brick really cried. I told Jersey that Shaky could hold down my spot after I left. But he just made a face and didn't say a word.

After lights-out, I spent a long time looking over at Sanchez's empty bed. When the new jacks rolled into the house there would be another “thirty-nine” to take his spot.

I was glad I wouldn't be around to see it.

There'd be another kid to take my bed, too. And I already felt sad for him and his family, and for what he might have done to somebody to get locked up on Rikers Island.

I
t was five o'clock in the morning when the CO coming on duty stumbled down the rows of beds, counting. It was Ms. Armstrong. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and was touching each sleeping kid with the other. She mumbled the numbers softly and her voice went up and down like a lullaby.