Rikers High Page 11

  “Not in my school you don’t!” hollered Montenez, shoving the kid into the officers’ desk. “Mr. Arrigo, pack this young man up. We’ll see if he likes sleeping in the building with all the wolves running around.”

  The deputy warden nodded his head in approval. And it was plain to see that since the COs and teachers weren’t going to hammer kids about sleeping, that miserable Ms. Jackson had gone and found herself a deputy warden that would make them.

  Mrs. Daniels ran into the hall and started arguing with Montenez.

  “You can’t put your hands on these kids for no reason!” she yelled. “That’s police brutality, and I’ll report it!”

  Montenez tried to blow her off, but Mrs. Daniels said she was going to write it up and send it to the newspapers.

  “These are inmates,” the principal told her. “You have to respect the system.”

  Mrs. Daniels didn’t back off, and she wrote down the badge numbers of Montenez and the deputy warden.

  By the time things got calmer, Miss Archer was at the door, ready to leave, and Mrs. Daniels was coming into our class.

  “I’m going to put something about the solar system up on the board,” Mrs. Daniels told us. “Copy it down and give me quiet so I can write something.”

  When she was done at the board, Mrs. Daniels pulled out a sheet of paper and put the date up at the top. Dudes crowded around her desk as she wrote how Montenez snatched the kid up, and that he was only sleeping. She wrote how the deputy warden was there and that Ms. Jackson didn’t report an assault on a student.

  “Damn,” Jersey said, amazed. “She’s going after Montenez in his own jail.”

  “It’s not his jail. He doesn’t own it or you,” Mrs. Daniels said.

  One of the house snitches went right to Dawson and Arrigo with the news.

  They were steamed and tried to talk Mrs. Daniels out of it, but she wouldn’t listen.

  Then Carter came in and said, “I’m sorry to say this, but maybe we should stop watching your back, Mrs. D.”

  Mrs. Daniels wrote that down, too, and called it a threat.

  The truth was that the COs didn’t need to watch her back anymore. Kids gave her mad props for what she was doing. Mrs. Daniels was putting herself out there for us like nobody had before. Right then, dudes would have done anything for her. She was free and clear with us.

  We had almost forgot about Murray’s substitute, until he showed up at our door once science class was over. He had a Caribbean accent and was wearing a suit and tie, with a history book under his arm. Kids walked him into class, pulled out his chair, and sat his fresh ass down.

  We started asking him questions about his family, the kind of car he drove, and where he lived. After a few minutes, we knew lots of things about Mr. Powell, like that he lived on State Street in Brooklyn. And his eyes even lit up when dudes started calling him “Pow.”

  Then kids noticed the cell phone on his belt.

  “Hey, Pow, that’s off the hook. Let me have a look at that,” a dude said.

  “I’d rather just hold onto it,” said Powell.

  Before you knew it, the dude told him a sob story about not being able to get a hold of his lawyer and Powell gave him the phone.

  Then kids were making calls in the corner of the room.

  Powell looked like he was starting to get nervous, but he probably didn’t know to get the COs.

  Dudes argued over who’d use the cell next.

  Carter heard the racket from the officers’ desk. He busted in and took the phone away. Then Dawson and Arrigo strolled in, laughing their asses off. They gave Powell a big speech right in front of everybody.

  “Listen, Mr. Powell,” said Arrigo. “I know you’re a smart guy and all because you went to college and graduated. But these kids are inmates. Don’t give them your watch so they can see the time. They don’t need to borrow lunch money. And most of all, don’t give out any personal information about yourself.”IT

  “Not unless you want them visiting you out in the world,” grinned Dawson.

  After they left, Powell just looked at us for a while without saying a word.

  He was probably feeling like a real jackass.

  “Don’t worry ’bout it, Pow,” said Jersey. “That’s the game out here. We’ve got to test you.”

  Some dude asked him why he came to teach in jail, and if he was afraid we’d all jump him. That’s when the COs called us out for lunch. We just left Powell sitting there before he could answer.

  After lunch, we had Mr. Rowe’s life skills class. I was the first one back to the room, and he was already there, sitting behind the desk. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before.

  “Are you sure this is your class?” he asked.

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d been sitting five feet from Rowe for a week, with a big cut on my face. But he still had no clue I was his student. He should have been a detective instead of a teacher. Then maybe the jail would be empty and some high school out in the world would be full of kids.

  All through class, I kept staring at the yellow pass clipped to Rowe’s shirt collar. That plastic ID was the only thing that made him different from me. It was even more important than the color of his white skin. It got him through the gates and home every night without a second look from the COs.

  Dudes were screwing around while Rowe was teaching us.

  Then Brick walked in and called out his name.

  “Mr. Roooowe,” he said, dragging it out. “Gimme some skin.”

  But when Rowe reached out to slap his hand, Brick pulled it back and left him hanging there like Super Herb.

  The whole class busted out laughing.

  Brick took the chair right behind me and Sanchez.

  “So what’s it gonna be?” he asked in a low voice.

  I looked over at Ritz, knowing he’d already delivered the news.

  “I don’t care what the white boy told me,” said Brick. “I’m talking to you now.”

  “I’m straight,” I answered. “I don’t need anything better.”

  Brick studied my eyes and said, “You must be going home if you can stay living like this. What are you facing, Forty?”

  I wouldn’t tell him shit.

  I hadn’t told anyone in the house about my case, except that it was a drug charge. Soon as dudes find out what you’re facing, they can start to play you. Nobody knew I was supposed to be going home on Friday, and it was going to stay that way.

  Brick picked up, annoyed now, and moved to the door.

  “There should be more new jacks in the house this week. I’ll bet some of them will be hungry to play on my team,” Brick said, and left.

  Sanchez had a worried look on his face. I could see that he had a lot on his mind, so I asked him about it after school.

  “Mr. Green checked with the Department of Corrections,” answered Sanchez. “He found out that beds are opening soon upstate. He says I should be gone by Thursday morning, the latest.”

  Then Sanchez talked about holding his own up north and staying clear of trouble. His voice was steady, and it sounded like he believed every word of it. But Sanchez’s hands were shaking a little, and I decided to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the day.

  That night, Brick called some herb that owed him out of the dayroom. It was a big production. Barnett watched the bathroom door and Brick went inside with the kid. He smacked him around pretty good and the kid walked out all lumped up.

  Then Shaky went around telling everyone in the house that Brick was getting serious. I guess that was the good part about having someone like him in your crew. He could get the word out fast. And kids would believe it was just Shaky being Shaky—that he couldn’t help but say what was in his head, and that he wasn’t fronting for you.

  TUESDAY, JUNE 16

  CHAPTER

  32

  We got to the school trailer the next morning and everything was set up different. The teachers and the principal were waiting in the hallway, and
there was a table with cookies and soda in the corner. Kids saw that and got all excited like they were back in the third grade or something.

  Then Ms. Jackson made a speech.

  “You’re all getting report cards today,” she said. “There’s going to be a party instead of school because the teachers thought you deserved one and I approved it. So enjoy.”

  The sight of all that food had kids biting back calling her Ms. Jerk-off.

  “It’s all too good for you baby thugs,” said Officer Carter.

  Mrs. Daniels shot him a harsh look. Then she told us about the different things to do. There were classrooms set up for movies, games, letter writing, reading, and computers.

  Most dudes made tracks for the movie room without even knowing what the teachers were going to show. But I waited to see where Demarco was headed and followed him into our classroom where all the games were laid out.

  Kids had already pushed seats together and were shuffling dominoes. The COs won’t let you play dominoes in the house. Dudes slam them down on the table when they have a good hand, making all kinds of noise. They bet on the games, and somebody’s always pissed off at getting stiffed.

  Demarco sat behind a chessboard.

  “I’ll wait for somebody who can play or wants to learn,” he said.

  I was good at checkers, but I didn’t know anything about chess.

  “What are the rules?” I asked him.

  Demarco was showing me how all the different pieces moved when Sanchez started picking up the black ones and laying them out on the board.

  Then the two of them started to play.

  I was happy to just watch and try to figure it out.

  Shaky was in the room playing Monopoly with another kid. They were flashing the fake money around and acting like they were on the street, making a big drug buy.

  “My name’s Tony Mon-tan-a,” said Shaky, hitting each syllable hard. “I need two keys. Here’s my cash you fuck-ing nobody.”

  Demarco said those two must really like living on Rikers Island and want to come back real soon.

  “You need to put more thought into who your heroes are,” he scolded them.

  They both got quiet for a while. Then they set up the houses and hotels on the properties, calling them their “crack parlors.”

  Demarco just shook his head.

  There were more white pieces off the chessboard than black ones, and Sanchez had Demarco’s king on the run. They would both check out the board for a long time before they did anything. Then Demarco made one quick move and Sanchez dropped his face into his hands as the white horse snatched the black queen up.

  “Chess is just like jail,” Demarco said, winking at me. “You’ve got to look out for the traps and holes.”

  It felt good that he remembered what Pops had said.

  After that move, Sanchez didn’t have any heart left and just stopped trying.

  Jersey came in from the movie room and said they were showing Cool Hand Luke.

  “You gotta check it out,” said Jersey. “It’s a movie about white guys in jail. Ritz is sitting in the front row and dudes are ranking on him, saying, ‘How you like seein’ your people locked up for a change?’”

  Shaky found the “Get Out of Jail Free” card from the Monopoly game and started bouncing around the room with it like he’d just won the lottery.

  “I’m free! I’m free!” he shouted. “Everybody, I’m going home!”

  Dudes winked at each other and looked at the card like it was for real. They told Shaky to bring it to Captain Montenez and he’d probably walk him out to the front gate.

  “I’m not that stupid,” he said.

  But Shaky went out in the hallway and showed it to the COs.

  Carter kicked him straight in the ass and everybody just rolled.

  “That’s contraband,” Carter said. “Consider it confiscated.”

  Dawson and Arrigo said they would give the card to some kid they liked better, and Shaky got all upset. He bitched about losing the card all day and said he should have sold it to some herb instead.

  When we got back from the mess hall, the teachers were in their homerooms. Demarco was holding a stack of legitimate New York City report cards. Dudes were all wound up just to see them in his hand and started to rush Demarco at the desk. He had to scream at kids for real to sit back down.

  One dude saw Jersey’s card at the top and started calling off his grades. “You got a 90 from Archer and Daniels, 85 from Demarco, and 70 from Rowe,” the dude said.

  Jersey put his hand out and said, “My props, please.”

  Demarco quit on getting us to relax and began distributing the cards.

  Even kids who never did anything in school and said it was all just total bullshit were grabbing for their report cards. And every time Demarco gave one out, some dude was either bragging about his grades or bitching about how the teachers screwed him.

  Sanchez got all 90s, except for Rowe’s class.

  “Take some college classes after you get settled upstate,” Demarco told him.

  “I think I’ve learned enough on Rikers Island,” said Sanchez. “Maybe I don’t need to know any more.”

  “These are still just jail report cards, right?” asked Ritz. “They don’t even have the name of a real school on them. They just say, ‘New York City Department of Education.’ ”

  Demarco stopped handing out the cards and made everybody sit down. When kids saw how serious he was everybody got quiet and waited for him to talk.

  “Let me explain something,” he said. “These grades are probably the most important ones you’ll ever receive. They prove that no matter how tough things get in your life you can still concentrate on school and move ahead. You should really be proud of these report cards. I want you to know that I’m proud to hand them out.”

  Dudes couldn’t help but feel better about themselves after a speech like that.

  Me and Ritz were the only ones who didn’t get one. We were in class for just six days, and that wasn’t enough time to get any real credits. But Demarco had a surprise for us. He’d printed up his own report cards on his computer at home and had the other teachers fill in grades.

  “It’s just a progress report,” he said. “But you can see how you’re doing in the classes and send it home to your family.”

  I got a 90 from Demarco, 85s from Miss Archer and Mrs. Daniels, and a 70 from Mr. Rowe. Soon, kids started to realize that everybody got a 70 from Mr. Rowe.

  “That stooge Rowe gave us all the same grade,” a kid complained.

  That was probably because Rowe didn’t know a single student’s name. But at least everybody passed, so it wasn’t that big a deal.

  Only Murray’s section was blank. It was the same with all the report cards. No one in the house got a grade for Murray’s history class.

  Most dudes were boiling mad because of all the shit he’d put them through. Demarco said that he’d even called Murray at his house and asked him for the grades.

  “He’s so spiteful he won’t do a thing till the investigation gets settled,” said Demarco. “I spoke to the principal about it this morning, but she couldn’t do anything yet. She says she’ll look into it.”

  Then Demarco crossed his fingers with his eyes up to heaven.

  That skinny dude Jessup was really pissed off. He was a senior at Roosevelt High School when he got locked up and only needed a history class to graduate. He’d pulled on Murray’s dick like a good little boy for months and wanted to get hit off with his credit.

  “So when I get out of here, I’ll have to go to night school because of that asshole prick,” Jessup fumed.

  Ms. Jackson was walking through the trailer and Demarco called her inside. Jessup explained his problem to her as respectful as he could. She kept a hand glued to her chin the whole time he was talking, like it was important to think on it.

  Then other dudes piped in. They wanted grades for Murray’s class, too, and she started to get all fussy. />
  “There are lots of problems at the end of a semester,” she said, moving backward. “And I only have so much time to fix them, but—”

  “All we’ve got around here is time,” a dude said.

  After that, it was on. Somebody called her “Ms. Jerk-off,” and kids started stamping their feet and singing out loud.

  “Who you gonna call? Ms. Jerk-off!”

  “Who you gonna call? Ms. Jerk-off!”

  Demarco never tried to shush them, and stood there next to her like he was bulletproof.

  Ms. Jackson stormed out of the room.

  “What is this, music class now, Mr. Costa?” asked Arrigo, as he got to the door.

  When he found out what happened, Arrigo made Jessup knock on the principal’s door with his toothpick arms and warned him to be nice.

  “Please, Ms. Jackson. I need this credit to graduate,” said Jessup.

  But she was writing away and wouldn’t get out of her chair.

  Then Dawson knocked and asked her to come outside.

  “When you ask these kids to buy into your program and not act like junior thugs, you’ve got to give them what you promised,” Dawson said to her in the hall, with plenty of us listening in. “Now, can you help this young man?”

  “I’m not about to work with inmates who are threatening and abusive to me,” she answered.

  “I didn’t say anything disrespectful to you,” Jessup said. “That was the rest of them, not me!”

  “You were the leader,” she said, pointing a finger at him.

  He took a fast step forward and screeched, “The leader?”

  Arrigo got in front of Jessup, pushing him back.

  “And I’m going to write it up that way, too,” Ms. Jackson warned.

  That’s when Jessup snapped, “Who are you going to write up? Me?”

  Now Arrigo was holding him back with one hand, and he gave Jessup a good shove back inside a classroom. But Jessup stopped short and balled up his fist.

  Arrigo’s eyes lit up.

  He punched Jessup in the face like he was fighting Mike Tyson.

  Jessup’s head hit the side of a door before he bounced to the floor. That’s how fast things can change on Rikers.