My Name Is River Blue (10 page)

For two years in
Stockwell, the only time I spent outdoors was an hour each day in the juvie prison's
red clay exercise yard, which was surrounded by a fence, twenty feet high with double
rows of razor wire at the top. Two years of living no better than a caged
animal had been an eternity to me, and I was not much better off with my
confinement to the Tolley House property. In a way, it was worse. In Stockwell,
there had been no group of boys laughing at me when they left me behind to
enjoy their day in the park.

Instead of
viewing a visit to the park as the privilege my house parents called it, I saw
it as my right to do the same as my foster brothers, and the day came when I refused
to have my request brushed aside again with vague promises. I decided to have a
final showdown with Hal and Jenny, and I was prepared to get as ugly as
necessary. I asked them for a private meeting, and they read my mood well
enough not to aggravate me by delaying it. They were well aware of my anger
issues.

When we all sat
down in Tolley House's small office, I took deep breaths and spoke calmly. I told
the Mackeys exactly what I thought, but I did so in a respectful manner.

I explained that
I deserved the same freedoms as my foster brothers, and I did not need the
other boys to accompany me as chaperones or tattlers. I didn't want their
company at all, just as they didn't want mine. It wasn't fair that the Mackeys
allowed the other boys to walk to the park and spend the day while they confined
me to the house and yard. I argued that if the state had not thought that I
could behave as well as the other boys, they wouldn't have released me to
Tolley House. I had been unjustly punished for two years, and there was no good
reason that the Mackeys should continue to punish me by denying my request for
an activity that was routine for the other boys. I promised that I would not
cause trouble. I would simply walk to the park, keep to myself, and return by
dinner, the same time as the other boys.

My house parents
began their tiresome speech about my anti-social behavior, which caused them to
worry about my possible aggressive reactions to others in public. They told me
that I needed time to polish my social skills and adjust to life outside of
Stockwell, and until I did, they were afraid I might handle some situations poorly.

Mr. Petty, my
counselor, had informed them that so far, my twice-weekly sessions had been a
complete waste of state money because I revealed nothing with my short, nonsensical
responses and took delight in knowing that my head games frustrated him. He
added that I still refused to show any remorse for the behavior that sent me to
Stockwell. The Mackeys further reminded me that I continued to reject their
efforts to help me become part of the Tolley House family, and that I purposely
alienated the other boys.

It was true that
I avoided the other boys, but there was much more to the story. At the time, the
Mackeys were either unaware of any trouble, or they were afraid to ask
questions that might force them to confront John Gunter, a sixteen-year-old
white kid, who was the self-appointed leader of the boys in Tolley House. As
long as no boy complained and the home ran smoothly, it was easy for the Mackeys
to dismiss their vague suspicions that something was not quite right in the
group home. It was hard for me to blame Hal and Jenny for their cluelessness
because John was very good at fooling adults. As for me, I saw through John's
act in about the same amount of time it takes to spell "bullshit."

***

On my first day,
when all of the house members gathered in the family room to welcome me, John
acted as spokesman for all the boys and attempted to give me a "welcome hug."
I backed away before he could touch me and offered my fist instead. He tapped
my fist with his and hardly missed a beat as he promised that the boys would do
all they could to make their new "brother" feel at home. I was proud
that I refrained from calling him a phony in front of them all.

In Tolley House,
the boys had four bedrooms upstairs with two boys to a room for a total of
eight if the house was full. John was the oldest boy and always had his own
room if there were less than eight boys living in the house, and since there were
only six before I came, John and Malik
both
had their own rooms. The new
plan was for me to room with Malik, leaving John his privacy unless an eighth
boy arrived. As I listened to Hal explain the room assignments on my first day,
I decided I would rather have a private room, and John quickly gave me an
opportunity to take one.

That first night,
I took a shower alone in the boys' communal bathroom and wrapped a towel around
my waist when I finished. I was brushing my teeth at one of the sinks when I
saw John and Malik in the long mirror as they sauntered into the bathroom. I
almost laughed aloud at the exaggerated swag of their gaits. I knew right then
that they were on probation, probably for a minor offense, because there was no
way in hell that they had learned to walk that way in Stockwell. If they had
tried that crap, after the other boys finished laughing, they would have given
them a beat-down for their trouble. The next day, I learned that I was currently
the only parolee from Stockwell.

While I finished
brushing and rinsing, the boys were waiting there on either side of me to give
me the
real
rules of the house. After watching the interaction between
house members at dinner and the gathering afterwards, I suspected that there
was more going on in the house than Hal and Jenny knew. None of the boys had
served time yet, but they were not in Tolley House because they were eagle scouts
and choirboys.

When the Mackeys
pointed out that there had not been so much as an argument between any two of
the boys in the past two months, I knew for sure that the boys were playing a
game. No group of delinquents got along that well in Tolley House anymore than
they did in Stockwell. By the subtle ways that the other boys deferred to John,
it was obvious that he was in control, and I knew that he would approach me as soon
as he found a time when our house parents were busy downstairs.

I was not
impressed with my welcoming committee. Malik, a fifteen-year-old black kid
about my size, stood quietly while John, who was a little bigger than I was,
gave me the scoop on Tolley House. Since they were fully dressed, I couldn't
tell for sure, but I had the impression that both of their bodies were soft as
if they had never lifted anything heavier than a nickel bag of weed.

John's warning
was about what I expected after seeing the show he put on for the Mackeys in
the family room. He informed me that he was the undisputed leader of the
"Tolley Gang," a name I thought might sound cool to a five-year-old
kid. I was supposed to be scared when he told me that in order to remain
healthy, I had to obey his orders and keep my mouth shut about anything he or
the gang did.

I was not
surprised to find out that John got his way among the boys who did his chores
and covered for him when he violated house rules. Even so, I was not expecting
to hear him tell me that he supplied every boy in the house with drugs for them
to sell at their schools and in the park while John never sold to anyone. The other
boys were the only ones who took any risk, and for that, John gave them a
little weed for personal use and a chump-change portion of the money they made,
keeping the rest for himself and his supplier. In the year 2000, the boys in
Tolley House were not subjected to drug tests unless they had been convicted of
a drug charge, and oddly enough, none of them had.

Each boy
understood that if he were caught selling for John, he took the fall alone or
faced retribution from John and his mysterious supplier who was supposedly
"connected" to some major bad guys from Atlanta. John's supplier had
an arrangement with the owner of a landscaping company to give part-time work
to the foster boys after school, on weekends, and during the summer. The boys did
very little landscaping work since their jobs were really a cover to explain
any extra money they had.

I'm sure that John
enjoyed his sense of power over the other boys. Taking the role as their leader
probably helped his self-esteem, which must have taken a hit every time he used
a mirror. I hate to sound so shallow, but John was one ugly kid. He would have
been ugly without his out of control acne. I speculated that the only way he would
ever get a date with a girl would be to dope her or hold a gun to her head, and
even then, I thought she was likely to ask him to shoot her. He was that bad.
I'm serious.

I must have been
too slow to respond because John made it clear again that I had no choice but
to do as he said. He leaned against the bathroom wall, his arms folded smugly
to his chest. "So, River, what do you think? Do we have an understanding?"

I leaned against
the sink, just two feet away from John, with Malik standing at an angle to the
side of us. Malik was a skinny, fidgety sort, and I sensed that he really
didn't like being John's right hand man. It was hard not to laugh at the pair.

"It sounds
like a sweet deal, John. For you, that is. For Malik and the rest, it sucks. They
do whatever you want to make your life good in the house, and they're stupid
enough to take all the risks in your drug business while you and your dealer take
most of the money."

Malik took
exception to me calling him stupid. "You don't know shit. My cousin got caught
with weed once, and they only gave him a fine and a little community
service."

I was still
smiling. "Oh yeah? I'm sorry for calling you stupid, but I was in juvie
with dudes doing time for pushing weed. There's a big difference between simple
possession for personal use and selling it at school. If the police search your
room here and find that you got more than for personal use, you serve time in
juvie. If you get caught selling at the park, you'll serve even more time, and
if you get caught selling it at school, the judge will automatically order your
ass to Stockwell until you're twenty-one years old, no exceptions. And don't
let the words 'juvie detention' fool you cause Stockwell is a prison, and life
there is pure hell unless you like fighting every day to keep things like your
food, shoes, and virginity."

"Don't
listen to that shit, Malik," said John. "Nothing is gonna happen to
you. You know I take care of you guys."

I chuckled. "What
are you gonna do, John? Go to Stockwell and protect Malik against guys doing
time for assault, rape, and murder? How do you take care of him now? You force
him to sell drugs, make him do your chores, and God only knows what else he has
to do for you."

Malik dropped
his eyes to the floor as if I had struck a nerve. He was obviously considering
the validity of my words because my time in Stockwell gave me "cred" in
the house. While he tried to look cool, he nervously shifted from foot to foot.

"Yeah,
whatever, I'm not worried about it," mumbled Malik.

John tried to
keep his cool demeanor, but it was a struggle. He didn't like the effect of my
words on Malik. "I don't want to hear that you been saying any shit like
that to my guys. Since this is your first day, and you're probably tired and
shit, I'll let this slide, but you better sleep on what I said and make the
right decision. You got until tomorrow morning to tell me if you're with me or
against me, and your ass don't want to be against me."

In a pleasant
tone of voice, I gave John my own proposal. "Hey, I got an idea. Just hear
me out a minute. I already got my stuff in Malik's room, but since I ain't
having no illegal shit like drugs or drug business in my room, he's gonna move
in with
you
. You guys can do your thing, and I won't see nothing, hear
nothing, or say nothing. I'll go about my own business, and there won't be no
problems between you and me. How does that sound?"

John reacted
with a curious expression of disbelief on his face. "How does it
sound
?
It
sounds
like you're telling me what you
will
and
won't
do and how shit is gonna be in
my
house. It
sounds
like you need
to learn that I run things here, and I
own
your ass. You know Hal and
Jenny can't hear nothing going on in here from the other end of the house and
that means that you got about three seconds to change your attitude before I
fuck you up."

I glanced around
me and saw that no one else had entered the bathroom. John was still leaning
against the wall within arm's reach of me, and Malik, a few feet to my left, was
still nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. I knew I had him worried
about what would happen if he were caught selling for John. My guess was that
he was picturing the scene I painted of him as the victim of brutal attack in
Stockwell.

"How do you
know Hal and Jenny can't hear us in here?" I asked.

John smirked. "Let's
just say from past experience."

"You sure
they can't hear? I think you're lying."

John's face
reddened, and he strained as if he were trying to crap a painful log. He leaned
forward and spat at my feet. "You fucking half-breed piece of shit. Are
you deaf or just stupid?" He had a blob of spittle still hanging from his
lip. As he wiped his mouth, I saw his eyes leave me and dart downwards to the
hand he used.