There Are No Children Here by Alex Kotlowitz

Author:Alex Kotlowitz [Kotlowitz, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-81428-9
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-12-28T05:00:00+00:00

“I was figuring to go back and help,” explained Pharoah.

“How could you help?” chided Lafeyette.

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t fight him,” said Lafeyette.

Seventeen

WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT wasn’t clear—and probably never will be. But by the time it was over, Lafeyette was wet and hurting and unusually angry at the police. And Pharoah was confused and disappointed with himself for not doing more to help his brother.

The late afternoon rain had warmed the December air ever so slightly, enough for Lafeyette and Pharoah to decide to work the Chicago Blackhawks game that night. Lafeyette wore his nylon Blackhawks warm-up jacket. Pharoah refused to wear what the kids called “starter jackets,” the nylon jackets with the logos of various sports teams. They had become so popular that teens were stealing them off others’ backs. During the next year, at least two boys in the city would be killed when others tried to steal their jackets.

Pharoah, instead, had a black polyester coat, which at first glance looked like leather. The white cotton stuffing poked out through three rips in the sleeves. Pharoah refused to wear the hood for fear it would mess up his new curls. The fancy hairdo made him look older. He had gotten many compliments on it. One woman wanted to know who had done his hair.

For decades, children of the west side viewed “stadium nights” as a way to make a few dollars’ spending money. When the Chicago Bulls or Blackhawks played, thousands of well-dressed, mostly white sports fans poured into the neighborhood. The children would offer to watch people’s cars if they parked on the side streets instead of in one of the numerous parking lots. If the driver refused to pay a couple of dollars to have his car watched, the children might smash a window with a handful of ball bearings and steal the radio or a jacket or anything else left behind. But mostly the children had no intention of breaking into the cars; they just wanted to earn some spending money.

Pharoah took the job seriously. He and Porkchop were partners. If someone paid them to watch a car, they would stay by it at least fifteen minutes past game time and then retreat to Pharoah’s apartment, where they would watch the game on television. They checked on the car three or four times during the evening. Once, they went back outside at the end of a game only to find the driver’s window shattered on a car they had been paid to watch. Pharoah apologized profusely to the driver, and was upset the whole day after. He said, as he had before, that “my conscience bothered me.” He didn’t like to let down others or himself.

When asked his name by stadium patrons, Pharoah always told them “Jimmy.” Porkchop told them “Michael.” Lafeyette once used the name Todd, which was the brand of his jogging suit. Everybody had an alias, even the young children. Rarely did they give their real names to the authorities or to strangers;

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