Korê in New York

What happens when a kid refuses to leave the past behind? What happens when the past won't go away? Read on and don't worry about the emotional damage.

1. No Square Dancing!

   Melody stood on the Christmas light decorated porch of the Teen Pavillion and stared out into the night. It was about 9pm on a Monday evening, Atlantic Standard Time. I don’t think there is Atlantic Daylight Time. Melody, pushed a shock of red hair away from her face and shook her head. She turned to Klarissa who was also not ready to go into the basement disco for an evening of official entertainment.

   I did not feel like going into the basement because they might have videos by Shante and other ECBAS supporters. Also there were several new kids who now found out that the basement disco was the second string club and they had friends in the first string club etc… Are you getting bored with this yet?

   “Grace and Emma got to go to Tiqi tonight,” Melody told Klarissa, “and maybe there is hope for us yet,” went the unsaid portion of the sentence.

   I decided I would not miss either Grace, the bleach blonde or Emma with her horn rimmed glasses so square she was hip. We hadn’t known eachother anyway.

   “How’d it happen?” Klarissa asked. I wondered if it was time to head into the disco for an evening of disgusting oldies or whatever passed for entertainment. I hoped Haley would give another social dancing lesson, but you can’t really force kids who are just thrown together to be sociable.

   “Her roommates realized she was leftout. They talked to her mentor and her mentor talked to the right people,” Melody liked this story. It was a fine story. It was a story of justice.

   “How come I can’t get my mentor to talk to the higher ups?” Melody asked.

   I wondered what Klarissa would answer.

   “You have to do a lot back home,” Klarissa advised. She did not miss a beat. I gave her a smile.

   “I did plenty. I even did support. I had a tutor. Think they hold that against me.”

   “I had a tutor, for a week,” snorted Klarissa. “I made Mom fire him.”

   “Oh a boy. My tutor was a girl but I think she was a bull dyke.”

   Klarissa sniggered.

   “Half the kids here have tutors,” Klarissa explained.

   “More than half, way more than half. Tutors suck.”

   “You said it.”

   “So how do we get the mentors to talk.”

   “Social intelligence” I sing songed.

   “Kore, shut the fuck up. You don’t even try!” Klarissa laid down the law.

   “Do you want to find your mentor?” I asked.

   “My mentor’s at Club Tiqi,” Klarissa explained it. “Why not go inside and make a conga line with the new kids. We’re busy out here.”

   I decided I had had enough and headed in for a night of whatever dancing. Haley and Jersey Dom had set up a limbo bar and were giving out a big prize to the kid who could grovel the most to get under it. I thought about the symbolism in that and winced.

   Mitchel survived to come in third place. A skinny little girl with olive skin and pockmarks came in first. I came in second. I brushed the dust off my sweaty shirt. The winner of the limbo contest got to decide one of the morning activities. That really was a pretty big prize when one thought about it.

   “I want a nature tour of the natural park,” said pock marks.

   Wow that was impressive!

   “I’ll see what I can do to arrange it,” answered Haley.

   “You’re probably going to have to go on it,” Jersey Dom told her.

   “Not the worst thing. Rememer the square dancing we used to have.” Several kids groaned at Haley’s fond remark while Jersey Dom queued up the MP3’s. I reminded myself I had a date with Amanda in the afternoon tomorrow to learn ceramics.

   I also reminded myself that a week from now I’d be back in school at Brooklyn Tech. “No more whining. No more whinging. Rot in Rikers Rotten Robbie,” I let the song drift through my head.

   Then I saw Haley was asking for volunteers to learn social dancing. We’d have our conga lines after all. I was fifteen minutes late getting home. The party had gone long and I had enjoyed the dancing including dancing with a fairly reluctant Mitchell and a slightly, stinky Jared. I wanted to think about dancing with Piper who was unavailable due to his being back in New York. Marcus Sidlow was not angry at me. Hannah, Margolin, and Davida and Kayla too enjoyed post party smoothies and talked about the various ways nails could be done in Rialitee’s beauty shops.

   I tried to read for global studies, but was soon too tired and fell asleep. Since I did not have a wakeup call, I missed breakfast with the counselors and decide to swim rather than deal with breakfast conversation. It took a while to convince Marcus and Kayla I’d really prefer to swim, and it was late enough  in the morning, that the grounds crew was nearly done raking and cleaning the beach for another day’s round of sunbathers.

   I watched the red faced groundskeeper who might have been a washed up sailor. He glanced back at me. “Do you mind if I put my towel on the sand?” I asked him.

   “Go ahead,” he answered. His English carried no accent in particular.

   “Thanks,” I said and headed toward the water. By the time I came back ashore, the groundskeepers were setting up a few lounges at the chaise lounge concession.

   I glanced at the chairs and the groundskeepers. They glanced back. “You want something?” the red faced exsailor asked.

   “Yeah,” I said. “I wondered how you get a job like this.” Boy did that ever sound snotty. Sometimes I could be a real asshole.

   “Well, I’m here for my daughter,” the groundskeeper replied.

   “She goes to youth activities?” I asked.

   “Not the ones for the folks who don’t know,” he answered his eyes gleaming with a weird sort of pride, “the good stuff.  Sort of like permanent Disney Land, but its for kids who know how to get along…really get along.”

   I stared down at the sand. “So you stack chairs and rake beaches so you can keep your kid on permanent vacation?”

   “No, I’m saving her from the kind of life I used to lead: Go to school. Do homework. Always do homework,” red face descended into sing-song. “Graduate. Get a job. Nine to five. Join a union. Let the union steal from you. Get laid off anyway. Get a lower paying job. Pay your debts. Pay your mortgage. Buiy shit. Pay for shit. Pay off credit card. Have kids. Kids go to school. That was the way I lived in Indiana. I’m glad Christy will never live like that.”

   I did not ask what would happen if Christy wanted to go somewhere like Brooklyn Tech. Here in Rialitee she’d never have a chance. I was glad to shower at the outdoor shower, throw on my cover up, carry dry clothes, towels, books etc… over to the Teen Pavillion. I did not want to glance down the tunnel at Christy’s father’s loss of faith. I did not want to think of Piper’s words that all adults were failures. Piper of course meant Christy’s father.

   “We are going parasailing this morning and you just made it,” Dylan announced. “Of course you could stay here and play video games,” he looked me over. “Kore are you OK?” he asked. I wasn’t aware that this counselor was concerned, but I figured today was a good day to fall out of the sky so I told him I was fine. I’d figure it all out eventually.

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