choked another child so long and hard that, in the words of Pharoah, “he put him to sleep.” These flashbacks, which were not unlike those of a traumatized war veteran, haunted Rickey for well over a year after Bird Leg’s death.
“Now, it seems like if I get in a fight, I don’t care if I kill or something. I don’t even care. It be like, we be fighting, we be fighting other people. Someone be telling me in my mind, ‘Hurt him, just don’t worry about it.’ Shhh. I just be thinking about hurting him. It just be pressure on my mind. Things that I be seeing, flashbacks. I just see when Bird Leg just bent down and almost tripped over the chain, then just lay down. I just catch myself right there. If I kill someone, it seems like I’m taking them on for the person who killed Bird Leg.”
Pharoah and others were unaware of the effect that BirdLeg’s death had had on Rickey. Beneath the raw exterior lay a tender child who addressed many adults as “sir” and “ma’am” and who took the hands of younger children to help them cross the street. LaJoe thought his eyes were filled with sweetness. But it was a guarded softness. When he smiled, he seemed uncomfortable, as if he might be judged as being fragile or accused of being a sissy. There were times, later on, after numerous entanglements with the law and flirtations with the gangs, that Rickey would be standing with older friends on the back stoop of Pharoah’s building, and he couldn’t bring himself to say hello to passing adults or to young children. He would act distant and tough. But at eleven, Rickey didn’t try to—perhaps he couldn’t—hide his kindness.
What cemented Pharoah and Rickey’s friendship was an incident that took place during gym class one day, shortly after Rickey started dating Dede. Another boy, Cortez, had snatched a basketball from Pharoah’s hands. Pharoah was furious. “Give … give … give … it to me!” he demanded. Cortez smiled and dribbled the basketball, taunting Pharoah. Pharoah, who didn’t like to fight, did nothing. Rickey, bigger and stronger than the other fourth-graders, had been watching the dispute from a distance.
“I don’t know, they was arguing in the room. I didn’t pay no attention,” he later recalled. “I was just shooting basketball. Then I looked. He tried to hit Pharoah.” Rickey grabbed the basketball from Cortez and gave it to Pharoah. All seemed settled until a few minutes later, when Cortez went over to Pharoah as he shot baskets and threw him to the ground.
“Cortez, man, why you do that?” Rickey demanded. He walked slowly up to Cortez and, before he could resist, put him in a headlock until he begged Rickey to let him go. Rickey then pummeled him. “Poom! Poom! Poom! Then I stopped,” he recalled. “Everybody picks on Pharoah ’cause he’s so short and he doesn’t like to fight. It just feel like he’s a little brother to me.” Cortez left Pharoah alone after that.
To the adults of the neighborhood, Rickey’s friendship with Pharoah seemed odd. Perhaps Rickey considered Pharoah family, since he was now dating his cousin. Or maybe, torn between his desire to bully and to embrace, Rickey felt he had found someone with whom he had no choice but to be friends.Pharoah, after all, would have been no match for Rickey in a fight. Most likely, both reasons explain Rickey’s attraction to Pharoah.
From Pharoah’s perspective, the friendship was easier to understand. Rickey offered Pharoah protection; he was a trusted friend. When Rickey had money, he would give some to Pharoah. Though he never said as much to Pharoah, it was understood that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
Lafeyette was wary of his brother’s new friend. “I worry about Pharoah a lot,” Lafeyette explained. “I don’t want anything to happen to him, because he’s my little brother. I’m supposed to watch after him. He makes me mad at times but I still love him.”
He was proud of how
“Now, it seems like if I get in a fight, I don’t care if I kill or something. I don’t even care. It be like, we be fighting, we be fighting other people. Someone be telling me in my mind, ‘Hurt him, just don’t worry about it.’ Shhh. I just be thinking about hurting him. It just be pressure on my mind. Things that I be seeing, flashbacks. I just see when Bird Leg just bent down and almost tripped over the chain, then just lay down. I just catch myself right there. If I kill someone, it seems like I’m taking them on for the person who killed Bird Leg.”
Pharoah and others were unaware of the effect that BirdLeg’s death had had on Rickey. Beneath the raw exterior lay a tender child who addressed many adults as “sir” and “ma’am” and who took the hands of younger children to help them cross the street. LaJoe thought his eyes were filled with sweetness. But it was a guarded softness. When he smiled, he seemed uncomfortable, as if he might be judged as being fragile or accused of being a sissy. There were times, later on, after numerous entanglements with the law and flirtations with the gangs, that Rickey would be standing with older friends on the back stoop of Pharoah’s building, and he couldn’t bring himself to say hello to passing adults or to young children. He would act distant and tough. But at eleven, Rickey didn’t try to—perhaps he couldn’t—hide his kindness.
What cemented Pharoah and Rickey’s friendship was an incident that took place during gym class one day, shortly after Rickey started dating Dede. Another boy, Cortez, had snatched a basketball from Pharoah’s hands. Pharoah was furious. “Give … give … give … it to me!” he demanded. Cortez smiled and dribbled the basketball, taunting Pharoah. Pharoah, who didn’t like to fight, did nothing. Rickey, bigger and stronger than the other fourth-graders, had been watching the dispute from a distance.
“I don’t know, they was arguing in the room. I didn’t pay no attention,” he later recalled. “I was just shooting basketball. Then I looked. He tried to hit Pharoah.” Rickey grabbed the basketball from Cortez and gave it to Pharoah. All seemed settled until a few minutes later, when Cortez went over to Pharoah as he shot baskets and threw him to the ground.
“Cortez, man, why you do that?” Rickey demanded. He walked slowly up to Cortez and, before he could resist, put him in a headlock until he begged Rickey to let him go. Rickey then pummeled him. “Poom! Poom! Poom! Then I stopped,” he recalled. “Everybody picks on Pharoah ’cause he’s so short and he doesn’t like to fight. It just feel like he’s a little brother to me.” Cortez left Pharoah alone after that.
To the adults of the neighborhood, Rickey’s friendship with Pharoah seemed odd. Perhaps Rickey considered Pharoah family, since he was now dating his cousin. Or maybe, torn between his desire to bully and to embrace, Rickey felt he had found someone with whom he had no choice but to be friends.Pharoah, after all, would have been no match for Rickey in a fight. Most likely, both reasons explain Rickey’s attraction to Pharoah.
From Pharoah’s perspective, the friendship was easier to understand. Rickey offered Pharoah protection; he was a trusted friend. When Rickey had money, he would give some to Pharoah. Though he never said as much to Pharoah, it was understood that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
Lafeyette was wary of his brother’s new friend. “I worry about Pharoah a lot,” Lafeyette explained. “I don’t want anything to happen to him, because he’s my little brother. I’m supposed to watch after him. He makes me mad at times but I still love him.”
He was proud of how
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