this time Dede said she would date Rickey, at least give it a try. Beforetoo long, graffiti began appearing in Pharoah’s building: RICKEY LS DEDE . Rickey and Pharoah became friends after that.
Rickey, whom the adults called Richard, lived in Henry Horner with his mother, Gloria, and a younger brother and two older sisters. His father had left when Rickey was three, and the boy last saw him two years ago.
Rickey lived just two buildings west of Pharoah, but his house seemed much farther away, because it was on the other side of Damen Avenue. Damen acts as the dividing line between the Vice Lords’ and the Disciples’ turfs. It also divides the housing complex in half. Although younger children freely cross the four-lane street, teenagers and even adults take considerable care in crossing the gang boundary. Most children living west of Damen, in what is called the “new projects” because the buildings were a second stage of Horner, don’t hang out at the Boys Club, which is in Vice Lords’ territory. Rickey lived one building west of Damen; Pharoah, two buildings east of the line.
So, for starters, it seemed strange that a boy from the new projects would befriend a boy from the old projects. But more surprising was that Rickey and Pharoah would find some bond despite the startling differences between them. Not even Ms. Barone suspected that her two students spent time together.
Where Pharoah was slight, Rickey, in the words of one local policeman, was “built like a pit bull.” For an eleven-year-old, he had unusually solid muscles; he looked far older than his age.
Where Pharoah adored school, Rickey shunned it. He could barely read, and had already been held back a year. He was a year and a half older than Pharoah. Moreover, he had been written up so many times for bad behavior that his anecdotal history at Suder, a compilation of past incidents, was nearly the thickness of a phone book. Once, the police had to be called in to handle him. He frequently got into fistfights, and because he was stronger than most of the other boys, he could do them considerable harm. When he got angry, he used foul language, even with the adults. He once told Ms. Barone to “fuck off.” Ms. Barone sometimes took a nap after school just to recover from her encounters with the class bully.
And where Pharoah tried to keep a distance from the neighborhood’sviolence, Rickey was in the thick of it. Rickey had been with Bird Leg when he died. The two were second cousins. Rickey was one of the younger children whom Bird Leg had befriended, and, like Lafeyette, he had loved being around Bird Leg’s dogs. On the day of the shooting, Bird Leg asked Rickey to hold his radio while he gave chase to the bottle-throwing Disciples. Rickey, though, wanting to help in the chase, put the radio down and joined the battle, hurling bricks at Bird Leg’s assailants. He had heard the lone gunshot and watched his cousin stumble and fall by the cottonwood and die. He then sat on a nearby bench and wept. For the next two days, Rickey stayed in his apartment, refusing to talk or eat. He vomited throughout the weekend. His mother worried that he was ill, but by Monday he started eating again and venturing back outside. The anger about Bird Leg’s death, though, didn’t subside; instead, it simmered and stewed within him. It was two years before he talked to anyone about watching his cousin die.
“I felt like I lost a big brother. I used to think they should of shot him in the leg,” Rickey said later. “Seem like I don’t care no more. I don’t feel sorry for people no more ’cause when they killed Bird Leg, the peoples who shot him mustn’t of felt sorry for him. Like I be playing basketball or something, it seems like I can’t sometimes get it off my mind. It just stay on my mind.”
Often, when Rickey became embroiled in a fight, he began to relive Bird Leg’s last minutes, and as he did so, his anger turned to rage. In class, he once
Rickey, whom the adults called Richard, lived in Henry Horner with his mother, Gloria, and a younger brother and two older sisters. His father had left when Rickey was three, and the boy last saw him two years ago.
Rickey lived just two buildings west of Pharoah, but his house seemed much farther away, because it was on the other side of Damen Avenue. Damen acts as the dividing line between the Vice Lords’ and the Disciples’ turfs. It also divides the housing complex in half. Although younger children freely cross the four-lane street, teenagers and even adults take considerable care in crossing the gang boundary. Most children living west of Damen, in what is called the “new projects” because the buildings were a second stage of Horner, don’t hang out at the Boys Club, which is in Vice Lords’ territory. Rickey lived one building west of Damen; Pharoah, two buildings east of the line.
So, for starters, it seemed strange that a boy from the new projects would befriend a boy from the old projects. But more surprising was that Rickey and Pharoah would find some bond despite the startling differences between them. Not even Ms. Barone suspected that her two students spent time together.
Where Pharoah was slight, Rickey, in the words of one local policeman, was “built like a pit bull.” For an eleven-year-old, he had unusually solid muscles; he looked far older than his age.
Where Pharoah adored school, Rickey shunned it. He could barely read, and had already been held back a year. He was a year and a half older than Pharoah. Moreover, he had been written up so many times for bad behavior that his anecdotal history at Suder, a compilation of past incidents, was nearly the thickness of a phone book. Once, the police had to be called in to handle him. He frequently got into fistfights, and because he was stronger than most of the other boys, he could do them considerable harm. When he got angry, he used foul language, even with the adults. He once told Ms. Barone to “fuck off.” Ms. Barone sometimes took a nap after school just to recover from her encounters with the class bully.
And where Pharoah tried to keep a distance from the neighborhood’sviolence, Rickey was in the thick of it. Rickey had been with Bird Leg when he died. The two were second cousins. Rickey was one of the younger children whom Bird Leg had befriended, and, like Lafeyette, he had loved being around Bird Leg’s dogs. On the day of the shooting, Bird Leg asked Rickey to hold his radio while he gave chase to the bottle-throwing Disciples. Rickey, though, wanting to help in the chase, put the radio down and joined the battle, hurling bricks at Bird Leg’s assailants. He had heard the lone gunshot and watched his cousin stumble and fall by the cottonwood and die. He then sat on a nearby bench and wept. For the next two days, Rickey stayed in his apartment, refusing to talk or eat. He vomited throughout the weekend. His mother worried that he was ill, but by Monday he started eating again and venturing back outside. The anger about Bird Leg’s death, though, didn’t subside; instead, it simmered and stewed within him. It was two years before he talked to anyone about watching his cousin die.
“I felt like I lost a big brother. I used to think they should of shot him in the leg,” Rickey said later. “Seem like I don’t care no more. I don’t feel sorry for people no more ’cause when they killed Bird Leg, the peoples who shot him mustn’t of felt sorry for him. Like I be playing basketball or something, it seems like I can’t sometimes get it off my mind. It just stay on my mind.”
Often, when Rickey became embroiled in a fight, he began to relive Bird Leg’s last minutes, and as he did so, his anger turned to rage. In class, he once
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