Minutes into Monday morning’s ninth grade math class, Mr. Griffin calls the paraprofessionals’ office and asks for Danielle. When she arrives moments later in her dark navy work polo, she doesn’t take her usual seat on the back corner stool. Instead, she stands in the doorway, using her foot to prop the door open behind her, and watches fifteen-year-old Tevon, deliberately seated close to the door, rise from his desk with his fists clenched beside him.
Mr. Griffin sits behind his desk in front of the class, as Tevon shouts at him, “What did you call her for? I didn’t do anything! I’m going to treat your ass! How about that? I swear to God. Treat your ass, man, like a stepkid! I didn’t do anything!” A chunky, baby-faced boy with slightly crossed brown eyes, he turns to Danielle, slamming his right fist into his open left palm. “Swear to God, Danielle. I’m treating that man’s ass! He told you I did something? I didn’t! I swear to God!”
Mr. Griffin, a head taller than Tevon, his neck and shoulders brawny, calmly strokes his trimmed beard with his fingers. He silences two giggling students with a shake of his head, then glances over at Danielle, who, taking a step back to open the door wide, says to Tevon, “Your uncle called. I’ve got some news for you. Let’s go.”
“I’m not leaving this room till I treat that ass,” he replies, pointing at Mr. Griffin. “Swear. To. God. A man’s ass has never been treated so bad as I’m about to. He’s always doing this to me for no reason. I…” Tevon abruptly stops when Mr. Griffin walks out from behind his desk, scowling at him. The kids laugh and Tevon smirks for a moment before straightening his face. Mr. Griffin leans back against the chalkboard.
As he walks toward Danielle and backs out of the room, Tevon says, “I swear. I’m only going because of my uncle. When I come back, it’s going to be nightie-night for you, Griff. Treat. That. Ass.”
When Tevon stops to beat his chest with his fists and crow like a rooster, the classroom again breaks into laughter. Danielle grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him out of the room.
They walk down the empty hallway.
“Proud to clown around like that?”
“Wasn’t clowning,” he replies.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. What’d my uncle have to say?”
“He didn’t call. I was just getting you out of there before you got kicked out.”
“Griff should thank you. You saved his life.”
“Don’t joke like that.”
“He’s always pulling shit on me.”
“He did you a favor. He should’ve called the principal again.”
“Where we going?”
“For a walk.”
“I’m telling you, I’m not going back to class.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It’s a waste of time. Got other shit to do, anyway.”
“You think I don’t? I have fifty Tevons in this school, all acting like you, trying to make it their last day here.”
“There’s only one Tevon,” he replies, winking at her.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that.”
They pass two girls texting in front of an open locker. “Oh my God,” Danielle says in a whiny, high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe she said that about Monica.”
They giggle. “Shut up, Danielle,” one of them says.
“Go to class.”
“Okay,” the girl replies, shutting the locker. The girls walk toward their classroom.
“What is it?” she asks him again.
“Why do you care?”
“I’m nosey.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Fine. See what your reports look like at the end of the week.”
“You can’t do that,” he wails.
“I run this school.”
“See how tough you are on the outs.”
“I run those, too.”
His laugh is husky, whinny. “I just don’t like being here,” he says.
“Me neither and I’m getting paid to be. You ready to go back now?” They start back toward Mr. Griffin’s classroom. “Stop threatening people. He should’ve thrown you out ten times by now.”
“I know.”
“Anyway, I knew Griff back when he was middleweight champion of the Midwest.”
“For real?”
“You want to find out?”
He laughs. “You’re goofy.”
“Really, he’s doing more than everything he can for you.”
Tevon nods.
The rest of his Monday is incident-free, but Mr. Griffin kicks him out of class each of the next two days. On Tuesday, for cussing out a classmate who didn’t like the way he was leering at her. On Wednesday, for pulling his shirt off, throwing it at Mr. Griffin’s desk, and shaking his flabby tummy at the other students. Each time, Danielle calms him down and escorts him back to Mr. Griffin’s room.
On Thursday, Tevon doesn’t come to school. Danielle calls his uncle, who says he doesn’t know where he is but will look for him.
After work on Thursday, she picks Cecelia up from daycare and goes to Erin’s apartment. Marquees is in the bedroom, listening to music and drawing, his backpack still on. Wearing her nurse uniform, Erin stands in the kitchen, holding a spatula and watching hamburgers sizzle.
“You going to see him with me?” Danielle asks, untucking her polo from her jeans.
“Not today. Marquees and I are going to a movie. You can tell him that, too.”
“Erin.”
“Okay, don’t tell him that. But I’ll give him another week to think about what he did.”
“He says he did nothing.”
“Shouldn’t have been out there. Anyway, my baby won’t be going to jail to see his brother. Hug him for me. And tell him to call me tonight. Movie should be out by nine.”
“I’m going to peek into your closet.”
Erin looks up from the spatula, grins at Danielle.
“What?” Danielle asks.
“Always messing with people.”
“They said one of us had to be there with him, anyway, since Connor’s not family.”
“Sure. What’s he want with EJ, anyway?”
“Just started law school.”
“That just means he’s not a lawyer yet. Probably extra credit. If he wants to see the inside of a cell, tell him to get there the old-fashioned way.”
“He loved those boys,” Danielle says.
“Then he left.”
“Yeah?”
“Just don’t take my new sweater. Theater’s too damn cold.”
“Thanks.”
“Always messing.”
“You’re not?”
“I keep it simple. You don’t know what to do with simple.”
Danielle scoffs.
She stands before the open bedroom closet for two minutes, biting her pointer finger and staring absently at a pink tulle skirt, before trying on three outfits. Eventually, she puts her jeans back on, along with a touch of mascara and Erin’s hoop earrings and sleeveless ivory blouse.
At dinner, Erin looks her over. “Going to jail to pick somebody up.”
“Stop that. He needs friends.”
“So do you.”
“I think you’re pretty,” Marquees says, ketchup in the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Tell your boyfriend I said hi,” Erin says.
Danielle rolls her eyes.
At the detention center, Danielle passes through security, a metal detector and pat-down, then a guard leads her and Cecelia to an open table in the visiting area, calls for an escort for EJ, and looks her over. She ignores him, rocking Cecelia’s car seat with her foot. The visiting area has thin gray carpet, bare white walls, and eight tables, with sixteen chairs facing a receptionist’s office. Two stocky uniformed guards stand at the back of the room, radios and handcuffs on their belts. The stuffy air smells of teenage body odor and hints of cheap chemical cleaner. Boys in identical tan slacks and shirts play checkers, chess, or cards with relatives.
EJ enters the room with his head down. A guard walks behind him, eyeing him. He looks emaciated to her, taller and older and meaner than he was just a week ago. He sits, begins twisting the short, coiled dreads at the back of his head with his skinny fingers. Danielle stares at him and he stares at Cecelia. His shoulders are tense. His sienna eyes are bright, alert, and spiteful.
“You don’t seem too sad to be here,” she says.
“Being sad won’t help me get out.”
“Depends on what type of sad you are.”
“You here to talk at me?
“That’s for your mom to do.”
“She said she’s not coming.”
“She’s mad.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Everyone who’s ever been in your position says he didn’t do anything. And they’re not all telling the truth.”
“But I really didn’t—”
“Stop saying that.”
“You said you wouldn’t talk at me, Auntie.”
“I’m just being honest. If you don’t want to deal it…” She trails off, shaking her head and rubbing her drowsy eyes.
He looks around the room, nods at someone from his living unit.
“Just don’t go around thinking everyone else cares about whether you did it. If the system says it was three boys who stabbed that other kid, they’ll find three boys to pay up for it. If you’re one of them, so be it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“And what, I was born yesterday? Nothing’s fair.”
They’re quiet. He twists his stubby bangs.
“Sorry, you’re right,” she says, “I said I wouldn’t talk at you. I won’t say anything more.”
“I don’t want to stay till trial. My lawyer says I can be home tomorrow if I just say I did it. Then I can make it up to mom for all her worrying.”
“You’ll have a record.”
“No, when I’m eighteen, they’ll take it all away.”
“What do you think happens in the meantime?”
“You said you wouldn’t talk at me.”
“I guess I lied.”
“Whatever. It’s not so bad here.”
“You like it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Making friends with the little hustlers and loudmouths and career criminals?”
“Doing what I have to.”
Coming directly from class, Connor arrives in black dress pants and a white collared shirt beneath a sapphire V-neck sweater. He shakes EJ’s hand, grabs an extra chair from a nearby table, and sits facing them. EJ looks at the guard, expecting him to ask Connor to move to the side of the table facing the receptionist, but the guard merely glares back at him.
“You remember me?” Connor asks cheerily.
“Yeah.”
“How’s your little brother?”
“Good.”
“And your mom?”
EJ nods, looking at his hands flat on the table.
“You want to play cards?” Connor asks.
“No.”
“You need anything in here?”
“No.”
“It’s been a long time, huh.”
“I guess.”
“What grade are you in?”
“Sixth.”
“You like school?”
EJ scowls at Danielle, then looks back down. “No.”
“Is it hot in here?” Connor takes off his sweater, balls it up in his lap. “If you’re wondering, I’ve been in Minnesota the last few years. Three, is it? Time moves fast. I’m back in town for law school.”
EJ looks up suddenly. “Are you my lawyer, too?”
“No.”
“Are you his lawyer, the boy that got hurt?”
“No.”
“Can you help me? Can you tell them I didn’t do anything?”
“They don’t care what I think.”
He drops his head again. “You look fatter than before.”
Connor smiles. “I am.”
EJ smirks at him. Danielle looks back and forth between them.
“I’m sorry, EJ. It feels awful when you really want to help somebody, but you can’t.”
“That’s how I feel about my mom right now.”
“You understand, then.”
EJ folds his hands together and places them on his lap. A woman at the table behind Connor shouts, and one of the guards steps forward to tell her to quiet down. Connor glances back at them, and when he turns to face EJ again, the boy says, “She’s mad at Jamal because he got in a fight in the gym.”
“About what?” Danielle asks.
“Hard to explain.”
“Kids trying to fight you?”
“No.”
“You scared?”
“No.”
“I would be,” Connor says.
“You’re soft.”
“Probably.”
“Most the time, I’m in my room. Or at school.”
“What do you learn in school?”
“Nothing. Kids fight there, too.”
“Not you, though?” Danielle pries.
“I have protection.”
“Oh?”
“That’s how it works here.”
“I know how it works,” Danielle replies.
EJ sets an elbow on the table, turns his head, and begins twirling his bangs again. Connor watches him. Danielle picks up Cecelia, bounces her on her knee.
Connor says, “EJ, I know I’ve been gone and you probably don’t know me from one of these guards. It’s just that I remember us being good friends back in the day. And, shit, that’s the last I remember being happy. I thought I’d come visit you, while you’re in here and bored, anyway. I won’t come back to bug you if you don’t want me to.”
EJ sticks his bottom lip out, shrugs with indifference.
“Excited, huh? Can I come see you again next week?”
“Okay.”
“Want me to bring anything?”
“The keys to my cell.”
Connor smiles.
“Five minutes!” the guard yells.
“Seems like I’ve been away longer than I have. You’re so much older.”
EJ is quiet, then he suddenly squints and asks, “You think coming here will make you happier?”
“I don’t know, EJ. When I finish law school, I’m not going to work for a corporation or big business. I want to be able to help people in need.”
“You think you’re at the zoo.”
“EJ,” Danielle intercedes.
He ignores her. Tossing his head back in the direction of the guards, he snarls, “Maybe they’ll give you a tour, show you all the freaks in my pod. The boy in the cell next to me pisses under his door every other day. Another one brags to me about raping his sister. The way to get by here is to threaten to beat everyone else’s ass more than they threaten to beat yours. To make sure your crew is bigger than theirs. Now, that’s all I think about. It’s a game I play in my cell when I’m alone, all the fantasizing and scheming.”
“One minute!” the guard says, radioing for assistance “transporting the subjects” back to their cells.
EJ and Connor stare at each other, expressionlessly, and Danielle decides against mediating.
Soon, two guards escort EJ and the other boys away, and another guard escorts Danielle and Connor out of the building. They walk side by side to the unlit parking lot. When she stops at her car, he continues without looking back at her, as if she weren’t there. His head down, grimacing, he appears deep in thought. She doesn’t call out to say goodbye.
Before school the next morning, she attends her weekly paraprofessional meeting in the teachers’ lounge. Principal Lewis, a snippy little woman in a black pencil skirt and blazer, asks Danielle and Mr. Griffin about Tevon’s behavior in the first weeks of school.
“Up and down,” Danielle says.
Ms. Lewis looks down at Tevon’s file. “You documented that he was asked to leave the classroom multiple times at Mr. Griffin’s request. Is that true, Mr. Griffin?”
“Yes,” he replies.
“Knowing how patient you are, I’m sure he had done plenty to warrant calling the paras.”
“He needed to get a book from his locker and Danielle was going the same way.”
“Three days in a row?”
He looks at Danielle. “Each day, he behaved well once he returned.”
“Other students said he threatened you.”
“Never felt threatened.”
“That’s hardly the point.”
“Most times, he just talks to talk, Ms. Lewis.”
“Why aren’t those threats in any of your reports?” she asks Danielle.
“I never heard them. I don’t go off what other kids tell me happened.”
Ms. Lewis studies Danielle’s stoic face for a moment, then looks back down at the file. “Truant yesterday. Already truant three days in the first two weeks. I don’t know how many more chances we can give him. Same story as last year.”
Danielle explains, “He wasn’t on his medication over the summer. He kept missing his appointments, so he wasn’t getting his prescription filled.”
“How do you know this?” Ms. Lewis asks.
“From Darrell.”
“His uncle,” Mr. Griffin explains.
“You know him?” Ms. Lewis asks her.
“He called me. We go back.”
She closes the file. “It’s not fair to the other kids in the class.”
“Of course not,” Danielle replies. Mr. Griffin nods.
“Let’s revisit it next week.”
After the meeting, Mr. Griffin and Danielle walk to his classroom.
“You know what revisit means. I can’t keep covering for him,” he says.
“Yes, you can.”
“Come on, you know how this ends. It’s just like Malik and Stu from last year. And Kenny and Stacey and—”
“I know,” she says, cutting him off.
He glances down at her, pauses. “Okay, let’s see how next week is. It’ll go how it goes.”
“If we can get him to his doctor, maybe. Or a counselor.”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up about him. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I don’t have hopes,” she replies, “just work to do.”
“Must be why you’re the only person here not looking for another job.”
Tevon doesn’t show up for school that day, which Danielle spends bustling from class to class, dealing with teens whom the hot, sunny Friday encourages to act out. They run down the halls, jump out of their desks, shout, and roughhouse. She employs her every trick to keep them in line. Death stares and nicknames and inside jokes, sticks and carrots.
Between weekend errands, she tries reaching Tevon’s uncle, Darrell, who doesn’t answer.
On Sunday afternoon, while she’s burping Cecelia, Charles calls.
“You into that guy?” he says without a hello. “I heard he’s into you.”
“What about it?”
“Nothing. Is he?”
“No,” she replies.
“Are you?”
“I don’t know, Charles.”
“You act like I’ve never been good enough for you.”
“We’re doing this again, huh?”
“It’s the truth.”
“You think you have been?”
“Since Cecelia, it’s like you don’t even call anymore.”
She says nothing.
“I’d be fucked up and you’d come for me. I’d be clean and you wouldn’t. I think you liked it best when I treated you bad.”
“It was never like that.”
“How was it?”
“I wanted you to be special. How’s that?” The line is silent. “Don’t pretend you called looking for the truth,” she says.
“I wasn’t so bad.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Nobody could make you happy.”
“Maybe not, Charles.”
“Now that Cecelia’s here, you don’t call at all.”
She sighs.
“How’s my baby?” he asks.
“Tired.”
“What if I just left? Detroit. Never came back.”
“You do what you want, Charles. That’s your thing.”
“Brad has a job for me.”
“I can help you pack.”
He hangs up.
Darrell calls that night to tell her Tevon will be in school on Monday morning. “No question.”
“Great news. Thank you.”
“He was out with his other uncles, you know. I told them to stay clear of him. They just use him to run errands for them, you know. ‘Go sell these stereos we stole. Go buy us some smokes.’ Whatever else. They’ll get him in real trouble once they trust him enough with some bigger scams. Crooked fuckers.”
Tevon returns to school and Danielle is pleased to document his studious and respectful behavior on Monday and Tuesday.
On Tuesday evening, she and Erin visit EJ, while Marquees and Cecelia stay back with one of Erin’s friends.
Erin and EJ weep. He buries his face in his shirt. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen, Mom. And where they’ll send me if they find me guilty. I want to go home.”
Erin hugs him tightly for fifteen minutes, then a fight between two kids from EJ’s living unit cuts visiting hours short. Danielle, EJ, and Erin watch as the guards swarm into the room, slam the thrashing boys on the carpet, and apply wrist lock pressure until they stop writhing. Their faces smashed against the floor, the boys shout threats at each other, spit flying from their mouths, until the guards jerk them up on their feet and rush them out of the room. Two guards stay back to usher the visitors out of the building.
On Wednesday, a pregnant classmate of Tevon’s steals one of his chicken nuggets. He shoves her onto the cafeteria floor, and a brawl breaks out, after which, bleeding from his nose and covered in sloppy joe ground beef, he climbs atop a table to fling lunch trays at the kids around him, like Frisbees. While Danielle, Mr. Griffin, and the school officer take turns attempting to talk him down, Ms. Lewis calls the police. When she warns him that they’ll arrive any minute, his eyes widen, his jaw drops. He jumps down, bolts out of the cafeteria and into the street.
That night, after dinner, Danielle and Cecelia curl up on the couch and watch TV. She calls Darrell again but he doesn’t answer. She stares at the ceiling, kissing Cecelia’s head until the girl falls asleep.
The next evening, she drops Cecelia off at Erin’s, and she, Connor, and EJ sit at the table closest to the receptionist: today a hulking, buzz-cut ogre who appears half-asleep. She and EJ again face the office, and Connor again faces the guards in the back. Having skipped class, Connor wears jeans and a plain blue shirt. He sits up straight, leans over the table, his hands folded. He narrows his eyes at EJ.
“Didn’t think you’d come back,” EJ says, twisting his bangs with both hands, his elbows on the table.
“How come?”
“Thought you’d run back to Minnesota.”
“What did they charge you with?”
“A bunch of stuff I didn’t do. Rioting and looting and assault with a weapon, all this and that. I’m telling you, I just stood there. I didn’t know anything was going to happen, and I didn’t know it was happening, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to anyone, really. I didn’t do what they say I did. Any of it. Nobody believes me.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you?”
“What does it matter if I believe you?”
EJ shakes his head. “You’re going to be like one of those guys.”
“Which guys?”
“Guys who want to keep me in here.”
“One minute, you’re calling me out for leaving. The next, you want me to tell you you’re innocent. Doesn’t make any sense. How old are you?”
“Almost thirteen.”
“You think I’d be doing you any favors treating you like you’re thirteen?”
“Whatever. You can’t help me. You think I’m guilty.”
Danielle says, “The more you ask people to tell you you’re innocent, the guiltier you look.”
“You’re talking at me like my mom does, Auntie, like all everyone tries to.”
“Fine. Tell me how it is, then.”
“I tried.”
“Tell me more.”
“This is dumb.”
“Dumber than being in your cell?”
“Cell’s not so bad.”
“So, you thought that after last week, I wouldn’t want to come back to see you?” Connor asks. “You thought you’d scare me off, make me think, ‘EJ doesn’t give a shit about me, so why should I give a shit about him? Connor’s just a pampered little bitch who doesn’t know anything?’”
EJ nods, smiling.
“Let’s hear it, then,” Connor says.
“What?”
“You’re mad that no one’s listening to you, so I tell you I want to hear you, and what do you do? You try to run me off; you clam up. Yeah, I’ve been gone some years. So what? I’m here now. We might not be friends—”
“We’re not.”
“But we’re not strangers.”
“You’re trying to make it like we’re cool again.”
“Why can’t we be?”
“That’s dumb,” EJ jeers.
“How come?”
He stops twirling his bangs, crosses his arms. Danielle glances at Connor, who’s still leaning across the table toward EJ.
Connor says, “I met your teacher in the lobby. She said you’re learning about the Civil Rights Movement and Martin Luther King. She said you have things to say in class.”
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
“She said you don’t like King as much as the other kids do.”
“He’s okay.”
“But not what everyone makes him out to be.”
EJ rubs his thighs. Danielle watches Connor, who waits for EJ to collect his thoughts.
“Mrs. Smith shows us all these pictures of guys in nice suits with dogs running after them and night sticks and hoses. All the lynching and beatings. Why did they do that? Take all that lying down?”
“I don’t know.”
“They were soft.”
“But that’s not what your teacher says?”
“No, but she’s wrong. Peace isn’t the only way.”
“No, it’s not,” Connor echoes the boy. “I guess they just did what they thought was best.”
“That’s fucking stupid.”
“Some people agree with you.”
“You don’t,” EJ says.
“I don’t know what’s best all the time.”
“You fought to get your bike back, remember?”
“You remember the bike, huh?” Connor exclaims. Danielle looks at the receptionist, who doesn’t react to Connor’s outburst. “But I didn’t fight to get it back.”
“That’s what you said.”
“I must’ve been joking, or lied. I just hung onto it and didn’t let go.”
“You got beat up.”
“Yeah, but I got the bike back.”
“You could’ve afforded a new one.”
“And what if someone took that one, too? I’d run out of bikes. Plus, I loved that bike.”
“They took my dad away over almost nothing. Just doing what he had to do for us. They swept through the neighborhood and took whatever they could. The cops. Your people. People just like the guards here. Took him away. Wasn’t any holding on to him going to save him, either. My mom tried that.”
Danielle watches Connor sit back, slide his hands under the table, and frown at EJ.
EJ calmly continues, “It’s not even about us being friends, you and me. It’s all about you feeling better about yourself. I’ve seen this before from people at school, teachers and volunteers and all that. I saw the way you dressed before and the way you talk and the way you look at the other kids here. You come from a lot of nice shit. No cop ever follows you around asking you where you’re going to and what’s your name. No cop puts his hands on you for no reason. You got everything comfortable and you’re like everyone else who will do what he can to keep it that way. Now you just get to slip back into Chicago and act like you never left. Like we’re friends. Look at the guards. They don’t mind you sitting on that side of the table, even though we’re all supposed to be on this side. If you started yelling like that lady did last week, they wouldn’t walk over here and tell you to be quiet like they did to her. You could stand up and go over and talk to them…Danielle, they’d slam on the ground and take to jail.”
“You might be right—”
“I know I am. I’ve seen it. And you don’t really want anything to change, either. Not really, because most of the time you have no idea how much different my life is from yours. You don’t notice things like we have to. You and I don’t live in the same world. We never will. At least, not till enough of us, in places like this and in our streets, fight back and take what we should. If King was right to do things the way he did, what are we all doing in here?”
EJ stops. He leans the elbows of his crossed arms against the table.
“Go on,” Connor implores him.
“That’s all I have to say.”
“You know you’re special, right?”
“I know I didn’t do what they said I did. I’ve done stupid stuff before, some stuff that could’ve got me in here, maybe. Danielle knows the truth. But I didn’t touch that kid. I’m innocent.”
“But you like this, don’t you? Arguing? Debating?”
EJ shrugs.
“You should be in law school, not me.”
He pulls his dreads down against his forehead and looks up to see how far they reach.
“What do you want?” Connor asks.
“To get out.”
“I mean, overall.”
“To be out.”
“Who’s stopping you from getting what you want?”
“You. People like you. People who are comfortable with the way things are.”
“Who’s going to help you?”
“Me. People like me. Those who aren’t comfortable.”
“You’re all on the same side here?” Connor asks.
“We should be.”
“But you’re not.”
“We could be.”
“That’s what you’re working on?”
“I’m working on survival. One day at a time. I know you’re trying to box me in. You think I’m a hypocrite. If you were here, you’d understand.”
“I didn’t say you were a hypocrite.”
“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me.”
“I’m looking at you like you’re a lot smarter than I was when I was your age, because you’ve had to think over things I’ve never had to.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do with these compliments.”
“You’re just like your aunt. Don’t trust anybody but yourself.”
“EJ,” Danielle says. “Those boys here don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about with this social change stuff.”
“They have a sense.”
“They know about putting their hands up and getting younger kids like you to do their dirty work for them.”
“I can put my hands up, too, and I’m nobody’s punk. I see you’re finally coming to your boyfriend’s defense.”
She rolls her eyes and taps her nails on the table.
“Three minutes,” a guard bellows.
“Here’s what I don’t understand, EJ,” Connor says. “If people like me can’t help you, and your guys don’t understand you, who are your allies? Or, are you just going to do everything yourself?”
“Maybe I will.”
Danielle says, “You don’t get caught up in a riot because you’re doing things on your own.”
“Like I said, I didn’t do that.”
“You were there, weren’t you? They didn’t arrest you at your house. You were running away with the rest of those fools. And you weren’t there planning some revolution, were you?”
“Not—”
“What was all the fighting about?”
“I don’t even know.”
“It couldn’t have been that important to you, then.”
“One minute,” the guard says.
“Whatever,” EJ finally replies. “I’m not perfect. Neither are you two.”
Connor says, “That’s true, EJ. I’m a fuck up. I spent my years away making money, drinking, and gambling. Trying to be married to a woman who didn’t love me. Trying to be a father to the baby I lost. I’m definitely not perfect. But I’d like to be better.”
EJ looks up at him, twisting his dreads.
“Can I come see you again?” Connor asks.
He shrugs. “Sorry about your baby.”
“Me, too.”
Afterward, Danielle and Connor walk to their cars. He stares at his feet, hands in his pockets.
“How are classes?” she asks.
“Bunch of yuppies who’ve read more books than I have.”
“You’ll catch up.”
“They don’t know anything. Not that I do.”
“I’m hungry. You want to get something to eat?”
“Not tonight.”
“Another time?”
“That kid’s got a lot going on in his head. He reminds me of you so much.”
“I worry about him.”
“So do I.”
As they reach his car, he pulls out his keys and she says, “I can tell you’re hurting.”
He opens the door, climbs into his car. “You’re drawn to people who hurt. As long as I’ve known you.”
“I’m drawn to the good in others.”
“Maybe that’s it.”
“Name any block in Chicago, and I’ll tell you where the nearest decent food is. There are things I’d like to tell you.”
“Sometime, maybe,” he replies. “It’s dark out. Want me to drive you to your car?”
Walking away, she scoffs.
He shuts the door and drives off.
That night Cecelia won’t fall asleep, so Danielle straps her into her car seat and goes for a drive. As Cecelia blabbers in the backseat, Danielle calls the homeless shelters programmed into her phone, asks if anyone’s seen Tevon. After exhausting her list, she drops her phone in the center console and parks on a wide street with apartment complexes on either side, car still running, lights off. A solar system of streetlight orbs descends into the horizon, and the flames of a full moon engulf the sky. A pack of screeching teens crosses the street. For a few minutes, Cecelia’s gurgling soothes Danielle. But, as the teens disappear down a side street, as her daughter hushes and the car goes silent, she begins to glower at the lights and the moon. She squeezes her eyes shut and bites her cheek, groaning as if in pain, as if possessed by the darkness of her eyelids. Then she drives again. Past Nigerian immigrants smoking cigarettes beneath corner store awnings, schoolyard jungle gym domes shimmering in the moonlight, officers in SUVs patrolling neighborhoods. A man in a sleeveless undershirt, inspecting the engine of the car parked in his garage, peers over his shoulder as she drives by. She checks the rearview mirror again. Cecelia is asleep.
In the morning Danielle has a message from Darrell. Tevon, who had been stealing and selling TVs for his uncles, stayed with him last night.
“He’s already gone,” Darrell says, when Danielle calls him back on her way to work. “Right after breakfast.”
“Any idea where he went?”
“He said he’s not going back to my brothers, but I hope he does. Maybe he’ll get arrested. He’d be safer locked up.”
“If you see him, tell him to call me. He’s been expelled.”
She emails a picture of Tevon to every homeless shelter she knows. They promise to call her back if they see him.
On Tuesday, she, Erin, and Cecelia visit EJ. He lost five pounds in a week. He says he has the flu and can’t keep food down. His face is ashen, indigo-tinctured. He can barely keep his head up.
“Another ten days,” Erin tells him, taking his frail, listless hand. “Can you hold on till then?”
The following night, while awaiting a call from Darrell or one of the shelters, Danielle gets a call from EJ, who says he’s in the detention center’s special housing unit.
“Because of the flu?”
“No, Auntie.”
“What happened?”
He sniffles.
“EJ.”
“I can’t talk long.”
“How much time do you have?”
“Ten minutes is all.”
“What happened, EJ?”
“I’m really worried about court now. I don’t want them to send me away or give me time somewhere. I didn’t do anything.”
“You got in trouble?”
“Sort of. They’re keeping me here to protect me.”
“From what?”
“Don’t tell Mom I’m in SHU.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Since last night. The cell’s tiny. There’s nothing in there. Just a toilet and sink. No mattress or pillows.”
“But you’re safe?”
“It’s cold. They gave me a sweatshirt.”
“Are you safe, EJ?”
“Yeah,” he replies as he begins to sob. When he stops a minute later, he says, “The boy in the cell next to me keeps smashing his head against the door. I saw the guards tie him to this big chair so he wouldn’t, but he’s doing it again now.”
“Just nine days to go.”
“But they might sentence me somewhere now.”
“Why? What happened EJ?”
Danielle can hear the guard say, “Five minutes.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on,” she says.
“I was talking with someone in class. I laughed at something he said to Mrs. Smith. The guys didn’t like that since I shouldn’t be talking to him and his people. They talked to me about it. They wanted me to fight him in the gym.”
The line is silent.
Then EJ continues, “I told my guys I wouldn’t do it for no reason. They said I was scared and all this. They said they’d beat me if I didn’t. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Okay.”
“Then they just, like, jumped us both. This kid, Felix, and me. The guards put us in these cells after we got beat, Felix worse than me. They put him in the cell next to me. Now he’s hitting his head. I can’t deal with all this, Auntie.”
“EJ, baby.”
“I didn’t want to fight him. I wasn’t scared or anything. I wasn’t scared, Auntie, but I didn’t want to fight him. What for? And I didn’t want to fight my friends, either, and I didn’t want them to fight me. All because I laughed at this joke of his? Now my friends say they’ll kill me and I fucked everything up. They punched me and kicked me till the guards pulled me away. I shouldn’t have laughed, I guess. I shouldn’t have been talking to him, and I knew better, too. Now, I’m in the SHU, and the guards are writing up reports on me since I got in a fight, and the judge might send me somewhere all because I shouldn’t have been laughing in school. And everyone’s mad at me. They said they’ll kill me when I get out…”
The guard tells EJ to wrap up his call.
“EJ,” she says. “Everything you just said. You didn’t do anything that a normal and decent and…what a good kid wouldn’t do. You’re in a bad position and it might get worse, but you didn’t do anything wrong in the gym.”
“I don’t feel that way. They’re going to make me pay for it, too.”
“Your guys?”
“Yeah.”
“In the morning, ask for a pencil and paper. Write the judge a letter, tell her what happened. She’ll read it next to the reports. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you. Call your mom tomorrow. Tell her what you told me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“What will they do to me?” he asks.
“Who?”
“My guys.”
“You’re so young, EJ. If you’re smart now, they already did their worst.”
“You think so?”
“No question.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, your friends aren’t the only people who know people. Go to bed. And thank the guard for the phone call.”
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Auntie.”
On the morning of EJ’s appearance before the judge, Connor and Danielle meet at a bustling coffee shop near the courthouse. Connor wears a sport coat, salmon tie, and charcoal slacks. Danielle, a black skirt and pear blouse. In a flower dress, Cecelia stands on the bright red booth cushion, gripping her mother’s forearm for balance.
“I feel bad that I couldn’t see him where he was staying. He didn’t get hurt too badly?”
“Some scrapes. Staff got to him quickly.”
“What does his lawyer say?”
“He’ll be fine. Probably a little probation. Erin’s sweating it, though. EJ, too.”
“You don’t seem too worried.”
“I am, but sparrows get theirs. It’s nice of you to come for him and Erin. I think, in time, you and EJ could be good friends again.”
“Wonder why he didn’t just fight that kid like they told him to.”
“He doesn’t like anyone telling him what to do. Even his buddies.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. By the way, he won’t thank you for coming to see him, no matter how much he appreciated it.”
“I know the type.” He tries to sip his coffee, but it’s too hot. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You could’ve gone to school anywhere.”
He cocks his head to the side, recoils slightly. Nervous, he keeps blowing on his coffee. “I said I wasn’t interested in this. Still never been told no, huh?”
“Just don’t listen to it.”
“You can’t go around taking whatever you want from people.”
“You can if they give it to you.”
He loosens his tie. “What’s Charles up to these days?”
“I want to see you again after today.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Can’t see how it works,” he replies.
She laughs, joyous chittering weakened by work and lack of sound sleep.
He looks away from her. “Laugh it up.”
Cecelia falls on her butt and Danielle stands her up. “You like her dress?”
He smiles. “Of course I do.”
She holds Cecelia’s slobbery hands as the girl stands wobbling. She drops her face close to her daughter’s and says, “I expect you to keep telling me you don’t want anything to do with me. You’ll stick to your school work and carry on with your life. But before long you’ll call me or I’ll call you. Maybe EJ will need your help. Maybe before you’re even done with school. And maybe you’ll come stay with me at Gloria’s house a couple weekends a month. On Saturday mornings, you can study at the library, and in the afternoon we can get lunch and take Cecelia to the park, and in the evening we can put her down to sleep and talk and know that we’ll still have Sunday together. All of that. Either way, I’ll be waiting.” With a paper napkin, she wipes drool from Cecelia’s chin. “Now, see, while you’re out there living your life, you can’t pretend you don’t know what I’m up to.”
She smiles at Cecelia’s blubbering, picks her up, and places her on her knee.
“But I’m not asking for everything right now,” she says. “I just want to see you again.”
“It seems you want much more than that. You’re right about the first part, that I’ll tell you no.”
“We’ll see about the rest.”
“You’re selfish.”
“Yes,” she replies, “but I’m a lot of other, better things, too. And you know it.”
After playing peek-a-boo with Cecelia for a bit, he asks, “Why did you change your mind?”
“About what?”
“About me.”
“What I think about you hasn’t changed in a long time.”
“Okay. About us, then.”
“You think I’m wrong to want you in my life?”
He sips his coffee, doesn’t answer.
“You think I shouldn’t feel the way I have, the way I do?” she continues.
“I guess not.”
“Then, what’s the difference?”
They meet Marquees and Erin at the courthouse. Connor waits outside during sentencing, a swift and unceremonious event. The judge finds EJ not guilty on all charges but one, rioting. She gives him six months of probation that, if completed without violation, would expunge his record entirely. EJ changes into the clothes in which he was arrested, sneakers and jeans and a hoodie, and leaves the detention center arm in arm with his mother.
They meet Connor on the courthouse steps. He shakes Marquees’ hand and talks with Erin. “I have some contacts in Cook County, not a ton, but a few. Whatever I can do to help, in the future.”
She smiles politely. “We’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“This man here!” EJ shouts, jumping up and down, pointing at Connor. “Coming in and acting like he knows something!”
“EJ,” Erin says, “I’m going to take you to your probation officer’s office right now. You need to see where it is in case I can’t drive you there at some point.”
“I’m free!”
“EJ, listen.”
“Coming in and acting like he knows. I told you I didn’t do it!”
“EJ.”
He stops jumping but keeps his fingers pointed at Connor.
Connor smiles at him, starts walking away, his eyes moistening. “I’m glad I got to see you all again. Have a nice day.”
“There he goes. He’s scared of me!”
“EJ,” Erin implores him, nodding in Connor’s direction.
Connor only makes it a few steps before EJ catches up to him, taps him on the shoulder, and says, “So, she wanted me to tell you that you really do look fatter than before.”
Connor laughs.
“No,” EJ says. “Well, you know. Even though you don’t know shit and you dress like a stiff and all that, you’re not a total dick.”
“Thanks.”
“Will you be my lawyer when I get older?”
“EJ!” Danielle scolds him.
“Just kidding. I got to go.”
“See you around,” Connor replies. He waves goodbye to them.
Erin gives EJ two choices: being grounded until Christmas or trying out for the school’s basketball team. Danielle introduces herself to his basketball coach, who, interested in her, volunteers to stay after practice and help EJ with his jumper.
The nights turn cold and Tevon shows up at his uncle’s. Darrell agrees to take him in. At first, Danielle hardly recognizes the reedy child; time with his uncles has made him moodier, cruder. She sets him up with a counselor she trusts and contacts the paraprofessionals at his new school to ensure they understand his need for special classes and medication.
When Cecelia starts walking, Danielle baby-proofs the house. The busy little girl tips over cups of water and throws markers and scrambles oversize puzzle pieces and splashes bathwater in her mother’s eyes. She and Danielle go for walks around the block, to playdates with Danielle’s coworkers and to Erin’s. One, a handsome single father, asks Erin for Danielle’s number.
“Just one date?” Erin asks over the phone.
“No.”
“What’s your plan, then? It’s not going to get any easier to meet somebody.”
“Bye, sis.”
For months, wintry gusts crash against her bedroom window. In the morning, ice glosses her windshield. She starts her car, sprinkles salt on the sidewalk. She takes Cecelia to daycare, then attacks her tireless duties in and outside of school, rushing headlong from one tragedy to the next. In bed, she lies awake, outwitting tomorrow’s evils, the conspiracies of iniquity: airport layoffs, foster care abuses, homelessness, lotto ticket splurges, healthcare price gouging, bottles and pills, administrator salaries, boys’ battered cheekbones, girls’ arms in slings. When she thinks of Connor, every week or so, it’s only to consider EJ’s coach’s invitation to dinner or Mr. Griffin’s subtle flirting.
One night in spring, Darrell calls to tell her he kicked Tevon out.
“I gave him so many chances. But he brought his junk into my house. I can’t have that around. I can’t lose my job, Danielle.”
“I understand. What was he wearing when he left?”
“I gave him my jacket. Dark green, with a hood.”
She calls the shelters, then dresses Cecelia in a tiny parka and snow pants, puts her in her car seat, and drives around looking for him. The following night, just after work, she gets a text from Connor: have some days off, can i see you?
of course but i have something i need to do
She drops Cecelia off at Erin’s, fills her gas tank, and waits for him at her house. He arrives just after dinner in his winter jacket and stocking cap.
“What’s he look like?” he asks, climbing into her car.
“Tall, thin. He might be wearing a green jacket with a hood.”
They drive for several blocks before he says, “I met someone.”
“What’s she like?”
“Not much like you.”
“Not cute? Not friendly or charming? Not funny?”
He smiles. “You probably already knew.”
“Haven’t talked to Charlotte in a while, if that’s what you meant. So, you came to tell me you met someone?”
“I guess. Not just that.”
The car warms up. He unzips his coat and begins talking about the other students in his program, most of whom are wealthier, sharper, and better educated. “The thing is though,” he explains, “many of them are incredibly naïve. It’s not their first instinct, for instance, to question how the police might use a law to harass the poor. Or how a corporation might use a law to cheat its employees or its investors or the government. Frankly, it’s mind-numbing to watch. They side with the powerful. They’re always forgetting that the powerful make the laws in the first place.”
As impassioned as she can ever recall him, he brings up some cases to illustrate his point, talking with his hands, balling his fists and rapping his knuckles on the glove compartment.
“What about your girlfriend? Is she naïve, too?”
He grins. “I’m afraid to ask her too much. I don’t want to argue with her.”
“Yes, you do.”
After an hour she says, “I should get back to Erin’s soon. That’s enough for tonight. It was worth a shot.”
“I hope he’s okay.”
“You should pray for him.”
“You know I don’t bother with prayer.”
“But you have no problem with hope?”
He smiles, says nothing. She laughs at him.
On the way back to her house, she suddenly asks, “Want to see something?”
“Sure.”
“I’m going to find a way to open it again.”
“Open what?”
“I’ll show you.”
She parks across the street from the rec center and they look the abandoned building over. Chains strangle the front doors. As he steps out of the car, he shakes his head.
“They forgot to change one of the locks,” she whispers to him.
“Really?”
She leads him around the center to the gym’s side entrance, looks around to see that nobody’s watching them, and pulls a key from her pocket. “Come on,” she says.
They slip inside. The gym is dank and frigid and dark. She turns on her cellphone flashlight and they wander around, skirting a patch of rain damage and mold. He picks up a flat basketball, and when he tries to dribble it, it thuds on the plastic tiling, inert. When her phone rings, the flashlight turns off and the gym darkens.
“That’s great news. Thank you so much,” she says. She hangs up and turns the flashlight on again. “That was a woman from one of the shelters. She said Tevon will be staying there tonight.”
“Good to hear.”
“I haven’t been here in over a year.”
“No?”
“Who would I go with?”
“I suppose. By the way, how’s EJ?”
“His coach told him he’s got an academic scholarship jump shot.”
“What’s that?”
“It means he better hit the books in high school.”
He laughs. “I love those boys.”
“I know you do.”
She leads him out the side door, locking it behind her, and they walk around the building to the front entrance. She sits on the steps, hugging herself to ward off the cold, watching him cup his eyes as he peers in through the glass front door. Then he pulls his hat down over the bottoms of his ears, crosses his arms, and sits next to her.
“How will you get them to open it again?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He lays his head on her shoulder. His coat smells of spring, of exhaust and gravel and playground soil.
He says, “I’m beginning to notice more and more how cruel people are to one another. The more I notice, the crueler I realize I’ve been.”
“What did you do that was so terrible?”
“Not enough.”
She kisses his forehead, tastes his dried sweat. “We have the rest of our lives to be cruel to each other.”