In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

8 The Arrest When I met the Northeast boys, TJ was 16. He was five-eight, 150 pounds, well built. He and Bernard are handsome brothers. Both of them have a wonderful sense of humor, an ability to describe complicated social scenes with clarity, and·they are colorful storytellers. Snoop was taller than TJ, six feet and thin, maybe weighing 150 pounds. He too is handsome, and a quiet kid. Chris stood over six feet with the physique of a high school basketball player. Chris emits tension. Dusty was almost as tall as Chris, and he, among all the boys, broadcasts an aura of outrage. I was hungry and hadn't eaten since McDonald's hours earlier, and I assumed all the kids were hungry too. I offered to take everyone to Pizza Hut on The Ave. TJ resisted, still unsure of me. The other boys and Cara were ready to roll. They twisted TJ's arm and off we went. Everyone piled into the Acura and sat on top of one another, laughed and smoked Newports; no one minded the four-block ride to The Ave. Inside the restaurant I asked for a long table. For the moment, I sat alone. Some boys and Cara went outside to smoke a predinner joint; they always did this. Others drifted off to play video games with quarters I had given them. I felt like a Cub Scout master. Cara came in from the chilly parking lot, her eyes glowing. She leaned over my left shoulder, laughed, and whispered in my ear: "TJ thinks you're the coolest white dude he's ever known." The waitress came with menus and found me sitting at a long table alone. I called to Cara; she dragged all the boys to the table and made them sit down. Family folks at the restaurant didn't like the look of my "Cub Scout troop." I told them to watch their language because there were children nearby. Cara leaned forward over the table and whispered, "Listen, you crazy motherfuckas, no bad language or I'll kick your asses." They paused, then roared with laughter. 118 The Arrest 119 No one wanted to order until I said, "Order anything and everything you want." They did: breadsticks with pizza sauce, dessert pizza, and four large pizzas covered with meat and vegetables. The food arrived and these children ate and ate like they'd not eaten for days. No one spoke, they just ate. For once they seemed more interested in food than in marijuana. Of course, Cara had to complain about the service because the waitress was slow bringing drink refills. She complained about service every time we ate out and used her behind-the-counter acumen to judge others. I told her it was OK that the waitress was slow with drink refills. "The place is crowded, Caramel, give her a break." "Hey, Mark, you're paying for this. We should get good service. Fuck dat bitch." She stood up and walked to the counter, asked for the manager, and told him the service "ain't shit." I couldn't stop her. Once stomachs were full, stories were told about violent incidents the boys had been in. They told these tales with humor and a nonchalant attitude you'd expect in tales about "what we did on summer vacation." TJ kept Cara enraptured with stories about early-morning drive-bys. Chris talked about sidewalk fistfights and how good it felt to punch boys in the face and watch blood splatter and bones break. Dusty told tales about how much he liked to use his knife as a stabbing and slashing instrument. Snoop kept quiet, but the boys talked about his exploits as a master fistfighter. Everyone smoked Newports, and when they got bored and stopped talking, I paid the bill and walked into the cold parking lot. My Acura faced the McDonald's next door, where we had had lunch. TJ and Dusty watched two boys, who looked to be 11 or 12 years old, ride up to McDonald's, lay down their bikes, and stand next to them, talking for a minute before walking inside. "Bikes, I need a bike," said TJ. "Fuck it, let's take 'em, and bust their faces if they say anything. TJ, I got the mountain bike," Dusty proclaimed. "What!" I exclaimed. "You guys are going to rip off bikes from a couple of children?" "Hey, the car's crowded, we need...

Share