PROPOSAL
By Zander Scott
Most young kids don’t smoke, don’t like greasy food, don’t drink, and don’t like to sit around watching television 15 hours a day. But when they get into high school they get curious about these things and go out and try them because they think it’s either cool to do them or because their friends are doing something stupid. Okay, so I propose that we make all little kids between the ages of 2 and 10 smoke at least 10 cigarettes a day, eat greasy fast food from a brown paper bag, watch television 15 hours a day no matter what’s on, and maybe commit a few armed robberies. Then, when they get to be 11 and have all their bad habits perfected, we can tell them that they have a choice of what they do. By this time all the big kids will have been beating up the little kids on aregular basis. A 3-year-old who smokes all day won’t be too tough to take in a fight! Then if we tell them to stop smoking, stop watching television, and take their grimy little hands out of the fast food bag they might even listen.
CHAPTER THREE
Circle of Lame
I don’t believe it,” LaShonda said. “Sidney is too straight to be running around trying to cop no dope.”
“Culpepper wouldn’t make it up,” Kambui said.
“Sidney plays chess down on Henry Street,” Bobbi said. “I think the settlement house has a team. So that’s near enough to Avenue A to make it seem real.”
“I don’t know why Mr. Culpepper thinks we can help him,” I said. “But if the rest of you guys are down with it, I’d sure like to try.”
“He’s probably thinking that you should know something about drugs because you’re black,” Bobbi said. “I mean, he can’t simply walk up to people and say, ‘Hey, I notice you’re black, can you deal with a drug problem?’ ”
“You’re sick, Bobbi,” I said.
“But she’s probably right,” LaShonda said. “But maybe, just maybe, he’s not using drugs. Could be he was trying to get them for somebody else.”
“You ask me and I’m thinking that what I see don’t smell right,” Kambui said. “Something’s funny here and it’s not about ha-ha!”
“We can have an intervention, like they do on television,” LaShonda said. “You ever see those programs where they get somebody in a room and tell them they got to stop doing
whatever
and everybody is screaming and stuff? That’s what we need to do.”
That seemed like a good idea and we contacted Miss LoBretto and asked if we could use the media center. She said we could and Bobbi said she could get Sidney to come to a meeting during lunch.
“Maybe everybody shouldn’t come,” I said. “Sidney did me a solid when I needed it most. If I can do him one, then I got to be on time. If you want to show, then that’s cool. If you don’t want to show it’s still cool.”
“It’s not that, Zander,” Kambui said, shaking his head. “I got some druggies in the fam, man, and it don’t go down smooth no matter how much heart you got in it. You know what I mean?”
“If it was the druggies in your fam would you be at the media center?” I asked Kambui.
“I’d be there,” he said.
After school I walked home by myself. I had Sidney’s phone number and thought I would call his house before he got home. His grandfather was a cool old Russian dude and he loved to talk. Maybe he would say something that would give me a clue to what was going down with Sidney. But when I called it was Sidney who answered.
“Hey, Big Sid, how you doing?”
“I’ve done better,” was the answer.
“I heard you had a little trouble,” I said.
“Zander … Zander … the cops said I was facing Juvenile and then State,” he said. I could hear him crying.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I could go to juvenile jail until I’m eighteen and then get switched to a regular prison,” he said. “God, man, I’m really scared. I’m really scared. I didn’t think any of this would happen. I really
By Zander Scott
Most young kids don’t smoke, don’t like greasy food, don’t drink, and don’t like to sit around watching television 15 hours a day. But when they get into high school they get curious about these things and go out and try them because they think it’s either cool to do them or because their friends are doing something stupid. Okay, so I propose that we make all little kids between the ages of 2 and 10 smoke at least 10 cigarettes a day, eat greasy fast food from a brown paper bag, watch television 15 hours a day no matter what’s on, and maybe commit a few armed robberies. Then, when they get to be 11 and have all their bad habits perfected, we can tell them that they have a choice of what they do. By this time all the big kids will have been beating up the little kids on aregular basis. A 3-year-old who smokes all day won’t be too tough to take in a fight! Then if we tell them to stop smoking, stop watching television, and take their grimy little hands out of the fast food bag they might even listen.
CHAPTER THREE
Circle of Lame
I don’t believe it,” LaShonda said. “Sidney is too straight to be running around trying to cop no dope.”
“Culpepper wouldn’t make it up,” Kambui said.
“Sidney plays chess down on Henry Street,” Bobbi said. “I think the settlement house has a team. So that’s near enough to Avenue A to make it seem real.”
“I don’t know why Mr. Culpepper thinks we can help him,” I said. “But if the rest of you guys are down with it, I’d sure like to try.”
“He’s probably thinking that you should know something about drugs because you’re black,” Bobbi said. “I mean, he can’t simply walk up to people and say, ‘Hey, I notice you’re black, can you deal with a drug problem?’ ”
“You’re sick, Bobbi,” I said.
“But she’s probably right,” LaShonda said. “But maybe, just maybe, he’s not using drugs. Could be he was trying to get them for somebody else.”
“You ask me and I’m thinking that what I see don’t smell right,” Kambui said. “Something’s funny here and it’s not about ha-ha!”
“We can have an intervention, like they do on television,” LaShonda said. “You ever see those programs where they get somebody in a room and tell them they got to stop doing
whatever
and everybody is screaming and stuff? That’s what we need to do.”
That seemed like a good idea and we contacted Miss LoBretto and asked if we could use the media center. She said we could and Bobbi said she could get Sidney to come to a meeting during lunch.
“Maybe everybody shouldn’t come,” I said. “Sidney did me a solid when I needed it most. If I can do him one, then I got to be on time. If you want to show, then that’s cool. If you don’t want to show it’s still cool.”
“It’s not that, Zander,” Kambui said, shaking his head. “I got some druggies in the fam, man, and it don’t go down smooth no matter how much heart you got in it. You know what I mean?”
“If it was the druggies in your fam would you be at the media center?” I asked Kambui.
“I’d be there,” he said.
After school I walked home by myself. I had Sidney’s phone number and thought I would call his house before he got home. His grandfather was a cool old Russian dude and he loved to talk. Maybe he would say something that would give me a clue to what was going down with Sidney. But when I called it was Sidney who answered.
“Hey, Big Sid, how you doing?”
“I’ve done better,” was the answer.
“I heard you had a little trouble,” I said.
“Zander … Zander … the cops said I was facing Juvenile and then State,” he said. I could hear him crying.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I could go to juvenile jail until I’m eighteen and then get switched to a regular prison,” he said. “God, man, I’m really scared. I’m really scared. I didn’t think any of this would happen. I really
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