THE FIRST CHECK COMES A MONTH LATER, made out in my name. I’ve never had my own check before. It takes me a while to work out what it is. When I do, I want to tear it to shreds. Don’t want to live off the government anymore, off the pigs.
Instead I hold the envelope in my hand, sit on the edge of the bed, and cry. Raheem found a new way to sell out, and he did it for me. To take care of me, make sure I can eat like a person and dress like a Panther really should. He did it all for me. And I sold him up the river. Across the ocean, as it turns out. To a place called Vietnam. A place where people die, and maybe there are even real live panthers stalking the jungle.
“Raheem enlisted,” I tell Mama. “He’s in the army now, headed to Vietnam.”
“That’s from him?” she asks, looking at the letter in my hand.