Rikers High

by Paul Volponi

  Arrigo was standing over him, screaming, “Don’t you ever make a fist to me again! I could have fuckin’ killed you, kid!”

  “I’m not going to stand for this anymore!” yelled Mrs. Daniels, charging through the hall.

  She passed everyone and headed straight for the trailer door. Maybe she was going home, or to the Department of Education, or to the newspapers. Nobody really knew for sure. But she was out of there. And she looked like somebody who wanted to settle a score.

  “How about just saying, ‘Thank you for protecting me all this time!’” Arrigo called after her.

  Carter pulled Jessup off the floor and threw him on the wall. Jessup’s eye was already swollen shut and the side of his face was cut from where he’d hit the door.

  “Look at you, asshole. Now we’ve got to send you to the clinic and write this shit up,” blasted Arrigo.

  “Never mind him, look at you,” said Dawson.

  “I know, too clean. It’s gotta be my fault then,” Arrigo said.

  Then Arrigo disappeared around the corner for a minute and came back with a shiner of his own. I couldn’t believe it. That sick bastard punched himself in the eye. He pounded on his own face until his eye swelled up good. Now it would look like he had a good reason for pounding that toothpick of a kid.

  “Well, how does it look?” he asked.

  “It’ll do. But we’ll need witness statements,” Dawson answered.

  “Look what you did to my partner, kid,” said Carter, like he almost believed it. “That’s an attack on staff.”

  Only Jessup was too beat down to even answer.

  Dawson and Arrigo came into our room looking for witnesses to write up what happened. Arrigo pointed to five dudes, including Jersey, and told them to come out to the officers’ desk.

  “This is the GED class. The five of you should be able to write a statement in perfect English,” said Arrigo, before he walked back out with his partner.

  Everyone in the house knew what the COs wanted. Those dudes were supposed to write how Jessup picked up his hands to Arrigo. That Arrigo popped him in self-defense. And if they really wanted to score points with the COs, they’d put in the made-up part about Jessup catching Arrigo in the eye.

  Four of those dudes jumped up and were happy to write. Demarco stared every one of them down, without saying a word as they walked to the door.

  But Jersey still had his ass in a chair.

  “I don’t work for po-lice,” Jersey said. “No way. No how.”

  “You’re all rats,” somebody called to those dudes on their way out.

  “And we’re gonna get our cheese right now,” one of them answered.

  Most dudes would have been down with Five-O, too.

  Jessup was fucked anyway you looked at it. The COs would write it up the way they wanted, and that’s all that really mattered.

  Dudes were just buying the COs’ insurance and trying to get something extra for themselves. Maybe it would be phone time or seconds on food at the mess hall. But a taste for little things like that keeps inmates from standing together, and lets the COs get away with a lot of shit.

  Dawson came back to the door and barked, “Jersey, are you writing or not?”

  Jersey just shook his head and Dawson went on to the next room.

  That was the biggest thing I’d seen Jersey do. I was proud of him for not digging Jessup a deeper hole.

  Demarco even shook Jersey’s hand in front of the class and told him, “I respect that!”

  Dawson walked back with Brick stuck to his heels.

  “Sanchez,” barked Brick, moving his finger like a pencil. “Come outside and help me write a statement.”

  Sanchez left with his head down. But I didn’t hold it against him. I understood the kind of stranglehold Brick had on him.

  After a while, Carter called us out of school and we deuced it up in the hall. Dawson and Arrigo were sitting at the officers’ desk going over the statements, making sure they all fit together.

  When we got back to the house the COs took the count. Even with Jessup getting fixed up at the clinic, I was still Forty. His number just got passed over like he didn’t exist. The count jumped from twenty-eight to thirty, and everything else stayed the same.

  Another CO came to take Arrigo’s post because he was injured.

  Then Arrigo went to a hospital out in the world for his eye. But he should have gone to Bellevue to have his brain checked out instead. I wondered if Arrigo would tell his family what really happened, or if he would act like some hero who saved the principal from a hard and crazy inmate.

  CHAPTER

  33

  We found out where Mrs. Daniels went in a hurry. Just after Johnson came on duty, two officers from Internal Affairs showed up at the house. They were checking on a report of inmate abuse, wanting to interview a bunch of kids.

  “I don’t like it, but I can’t stop you,” Johnson told the officers, cold as ice.

  That gave dudes an idea of how Johnson was going to look at anyone who opened his mouth too much.

  First, those two IA officers talked to us all together in the dayroom on the north side. They told us that everything we said would be on the down-low, and our names wouldn’t show up anywhere. They explained what “reasonable force” meant, and we all laughed out loud.

  “Do the officers in this house ever hit inmates when they’re angry?” asked one of them.

  Johnson was just around the corner with his ears tuned in, and he had plenty of snitches on his payroll to hear anything he couldn’t.

  So kids kept clammed up tight, and all you could hear was the sound of the ceiling fans turning. What did those two expect? If you dished any dirt on the COs, IA would have to change your house. That was like getting kicked in the ass for doing Corrections a favor. Nobody was that fucking dumb.

  Then those two officers talked to every inmate in the house, one by one. But everybody on the north side was watching from their beds, and most dudes being interviewed didn’t even want you to see their mouths moving.

  When it was my turn, one of the officers looked me over and said, “That cut’s still pretty new. You must know something about violence in the Sprungs.”

  I couldn’t tell if that was a question. And they both looked at me like it was my turn to say something.

  Finally, I said, “I didn’t get cut in the Sprungs.”

  “Well, we can’t hear anything about that then,” said the other one.

  I sat there burning. I was thinking, fuck these dudes. All they care about is their damn report. At least Arrigo didn’t front. He was a hard-on CO and he made sure that you knew it, too. These two were just another bullshit part of the system that pretended to be something else. Since it didn’t fit their report, maybe this cut on my face wasn’t even real.

  “Did any COs force or coerce inmates to write statements about what happened today?” one of them asked. “You know that coerce could mean to bribe with an extra privilege?”

  I sat there looking at him like he was a damn dictionary. But I wouldn’t even give an answer. I didn’t want to fall into any more traps or holes.

  After the officers left, Johnson had a big smile on his face. I even heard him singing a little, and he put the phones out almost an hour early that night as a reward for us.

  At supper, Sanchez walked along next to Brick. They talked on the low all the way back to the house. I thought Brick might be laying out a new plan to run the phones, but Sanchez was having a lot to say. And I knew his interest in Brick’s business stopped at what he owed.

  I was surprised when Sanchez and Brick met with the Spanish dude from the midnight suicide watch. They all went into the bathroom together three different times that night, while Barnett eyed the door. It had to be important because Shaky was nowhere near the action. He was tied to Brick’s bed counting merchandise in the store, over and over again.

  Then Jessup came back from the clinic with a couple of escorts. Corrections was packing him
up to a new house. They couldn’t leave him here, where the COs were being investigated for beating his ass.

  He looked like there was a ripe plum stuffed under his right eye. Dudes wanted to know if he filed charges against Arrigo.

  “You makin’ it hot for them, Toothpick?” asked one of the house snitches.

  If he wasn’t, that meant Mrs. Daniels was making moves against the COs by herself.

  The escorts flipped out and wouldn’t let anyone within ten feet of him after that. They called for Johnson, and he sent everyone into the dayroom.

  On the way out, Jessup looked back at us and shook his head, “No.”

  Now the COs could figure out how much Mrs. Daniels had taught them.

  The snitches reported back to Johnson and he cursed her and the rest of the teachers up and down.

  “I couldn’t stand teachers when I was in school, and it’s still that way,” Johnson growled. “Don’t even mention that school in front of me from now on.”

  It was almost lights-out when Sanchez finally got back to his bed. He sank into the mattress without taking off his clothes or even his shoes. I might have thought that he was planning to make a break for it. Only I could see that the things on his mind had him weighed down like a cement block. He looked too tired and worn-out to even think about running.

  Sanchez didn’t say anything to me. He just stared up at the ceiling until the lights went out.

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17

  CHAPTER

  34

  We walked into the school trailer, and right away, kids went to see if Mrs. Daniels was in her room. But there wasn’t any sign of her. The blackboard in her room was blank and the top of her desk was empty.

  There was a big, orange sheet of paper hanging on the wall in the hallway. Kids wondered what that was about, and it was news to the COs, too.

  Officer Carter looked it over, and then he read it out loud.

  “Attention all Sprung students—attend the circus at Madison Square Garden next week. See Mr. Costa to sign up!”

  “An excellent opportunity,” Carter added in a serious voice. “That’s something I would take advantage of if I were in your shoes. But I’m not. I have to work for a living.”

  Ms. Armstrong had a grin on her face and said, “It’s always something with these teachers.”

  Dawson took the kids from Mrs. Daniels’s room and split them up into different classes. Then he hollered, “Don’t forget to bring me back some cotton candy. Now get to class!”

  Demarco was handing out magazines like Time and News-week as we came into the room.

  “What happened to Mrs. Daniels?” a kid asked.

  “I’ll get to that,” answered Demarco.

  “Say word, you can take us to the circus?” somebody else asked.

  “I’ll get to that later, too,” Demarco said. “First, find the table of contents and read the articles I circled. Just because report cards came out yesterday, don’t think that we’re through learning here. There are two days of school left and you’re all going to be reading.”

  No one could settle down. Kids were either buzzing about Mrs. Daniels or the trip to the circus. Most dudes thought the circus bit was a gag, but they still wanted to hear it from Demarco.

  “I’ll go,” said Ritz. “I don’t care if I have to be shackled in front of people. I’ll be out in the world for a day. That’s all that counts.”

  “You are one dumb white boy to believe that shit!” Jersey snapped.

  “All right,” Demarco said. “I can see we’re not going to get anything done until I talk about this.”

  Just as Demarco got into it, Carter came to the door with Shaky. And Carter had his hand on Shaky’s shoulder to keep him from bouncing up and down with excitement.

  “I’m sorry to disturb your class, Mr. Costa,” said Carter. “This one can’t live without signing up for the circus trip right now. I want to make sure he gets a front-row seat with the rest of the clowns.”

  I just kept looking at Demarco’s face. He was playing it as straight as he could. And I almost started to believe that we were going to the circus.

  “I arranged it with the Department of Education and the Department of Corrections for next week,” Demarco said. “There’s room for twenty students and two COs. No one gets shackled, but you all have to promise not to escape. Remember, if somebody takes off we’ll never get a trip like this again.”

  The way he told that story hooked a couple more kids. If he was fishing for herbs, he had plenty of bites. Anyone who had it figured out was already having a good laugh. The others would probably be laughing at themselves later. And I guess that was the whole point. Demarco was trying to keep us loose after Jessup took that beating yesterday.

  Then Demarco turned to the other subject.

  “As some of you have figured out already, Mrs. Daniels is out there doing what she feels she has to do. Everybody makes their own choices in life. This is hers, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “This is where I’ll step out, Mr. Costa,” said Carter, annoyed. “I know you have to cover for your colleague to some extent, but that woman doesn’t understand what it means to watch somebody’s back.”

  When class was over, Demarco had seven names for his trip to the circus. Shaky’s name was right at the top, and that should have showed those other six dudes something right there. Two of the kids who put their names down didn’t believe Demarco at all.

  “I got nothing to lose,” one of them said. “And what if it’s true?”

  Carter probably left thinking that he helped play us for real assholes. But that was his game. I could feel how much Demarco cared about us through his whole circus routine. And he didn’t make fun of the kids he’d snagged with it either. He even let Shaky stay till the end of class, teaching him how to use a table of contents.

  “All I can tell you is that we’re going to have a lot of fun at the circus,” said Demarco as he left. “And everybody who didn’t sign up can have fun on Rikers Island that day instead.”

  Sanchez sat silent and didn’t crack a smile through the whole show. Then after Demarco and Shaky left, he told the class in an even voice, “The teachers won’t even be here next week. They’re all on summer vacation.”

  That put an end to Demarco’s gag right there. But everybody made a promise not to tell Shaky or the kids in the other rooms. We were the GED class and were supposed to be smarter than other dudes.

  Sanchez had already gotten word from Dawson. He was shipping north tomorrow morning and was supposed to pack all his shit tonight. He’d lasted almost three weeks on Rikers after copping a plea. Most dudes are gone in about a week. But Sanchez still couldn’t find anything to be happy about. And when he told me, his face was flat against the desk like it was his last day on earth.

  Halfway through Miss Archer ’s class, Sanchez said to me, “I’ll bet they don’t have anything like her upstate. An angel like that couldn’t last with those hard-up bastards. Some of those dudes haven’t touched a woman in ten years. Sooner or later, they’d jump her ass like a kangaroo.”

  We both laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.

  Then he whispered to me low, with his hand cupped over my ear, “I cut a deal with Brick and the Spanish dude from the midnight suicide watch.”

  Sanchez was going to fake a hanging in the bathroom that night, way after lights-out. The dude from the watch was going to have a bedsheet waiting for him in one of the stalls. Sanchez would wrap it around the hot water pipe and stand on a sink. Brick was going to eyeball the bathroom door, making sure the midnight dude was the first one to find him hanging there.

  The dude would call for help, and the COs would come running and cut Sanchez down with that hooked blade they carry on their belts. That way no one could say it wasn’t for real. The dude from the watch would get a $150 reward put into his account for saving somebody’s ass. He’d split the money with Brick to cover what Sanchez still owed from juggling. Then Sanchez could do
his time at Bellevue Hospital under observation in the mental ward, instead of going into that jungle upstate.

  I didn’t like any part of it. I told him that he should quit on the whole idea. But Sanchez had his mind made up that it was the only way out for him.

  I didn’t believe it could be any better for Sanchez in Bellevue. Most of those dudes had to be really sick in the head and out of control.

  “The COs are on point all the time in a place like that,” he explained. “They have to be to make sure nothing happens. Besides, they’ll all be fucking crazy in there, and I’m not. It’ll be easy to play their game.”

  I asked Sanchez about Mr. Green, the guidance counselor.

  “That’s going to be the worst part,” he said. “I know he’s going to take it personal. I like him a lot, and I’m gonna hate for him to feel like he couldn’t do his job right.”

  It was hard to look at Sanchez the rest of the day and keep quiet.

  Every time I saw Demarco pass in the hall, I wanted to tell him about Sanchez. I wouldn’t tell a CO, but I could tell Demarco. I just didn’t think Sanchez was going to do himself any good with this shit. But like Demarco said about Mrs. Daniels, everybody makes their own choices in life.

  I thought about giving Sanchez up all the way until we walked out of the school trailer. Then it was over with. I played the jail game, deciding to keep my mouth shut. It was just another choice.

  CHAPTER

  35

  Officer Carter took the count back at the house. Sanchez was thirty-nine, and I was forty. It had been that way since I got to the Sprungs. Only nothing stays the same for too long on Rikers Island. I was waiting for Friday and the possibility of home, like a kid waits on a Christmas present he’s almost positive he’s getting. But if I could have asked for presents ahead of time, Sanchez not having any real drama that night would have been at the top of my list.

  Sanchez wouldn’t show me the setup in the bathroom. He was afraid Brick would find out I knew his business and cancel the whole thing. So I went in there on my own to scope it out.