Ok, here is another update, thank you so much everyone for reading, reviewing or favoriting/following. It really means a lot and keeps me motivated to continue writing. Anyway here we go, enjoy.
On Wednesday it was time for me to check up on Alex at the reformatory. However before going there I made a stop at Tim Shepard's place. Alex's file said he was a gang member in Tiber Street Tigers gang, and Tim knew about everything and everyone that had to do with gangs.
Tim opened the door and went back to his pot of coffee and poured himself some. His hair was messed up, his shirt was wrinkled and he was barefoot. He was clearly getting over a hangover.
"Hey Curtis," he greeted "you ain't just visiting to see how I'm doing so whacha need?"
"Hi Tim," I said awkwardly, walking up a little closer to him, "I need info on one of the Tiber Street Tigers"
"Which one?' Tim asked sipping his coffee and not offering me a cup, which I thought was kind of rude, but that's Tim for you.
"Alex Moore." I said firmly. I was hoping that the information I got from Tim would somehow help me get through to Alex.
"Oh that kid? That kid's trouble." Tim replied searching his pockets and taking out a pack of cigarettes.
"Why's that?" I sighed, leaning against the wall and offering Tim a light.
"That one, he picks fights," Tim said, lighting his cigarette, "If there's a person next to him there's gonna be a fight," he smirked, then continued "He was a really good pusher though. He's in reformatory now… Wait are you… he's your…. , no fucking way…You are Mr. big shot now." Tim smirked again, letting a perfect smoke ring out.
"I'm no big shot and you know it" I said quickly, running my fingers through my hair. I was proud that I was still one of the guys, I didn't sell out. "I'm no big shot." I repeated pointing a finger at him. "Still live on this side of town don't I? Always did and always will."
"Ok, ok" Tim waved his arm, "no need to get all defensive now, but are you …"
"Yes, I'm trying to help him while he's at the reformatory." I said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"Well say hi from me," Tim smiled a crooked smile. "That thing that he was a pusher I bet that's gonna help him a lot huh?"
"Who do you think I am?" I hurried to reassure him, I was offended that he thought I'd rat Alex out. "I ain't telling no one. Look I'm not like that, I just needed to know for myself what kind of guy he is that's all. I ain't planning on telling anyone."
"Ya a tuff guy Curtis I always knew that." Tim took another sip of his coffee and cursed it for still being too hot.
"Thanks Tim," I smiled at his antics and started walking towards the door.
"Be well," Tim yelled after me, as the door slammed behind me.
At around noon I was at the reformatory. I went into the office set up for my appointments with Alex. But instead of Alex Mr. Evans, the principal walked in. The principal was a chubby short man with brown and partly gray hair, He was wearing a brown suit and his hair was neatly combed to the side. The way he talked and handled himself it was clear he took himself and his position at the reformatory very seriously.
"Hello Mr. Curtis," he greeted.
"Hello Mr. Evans," I got up and shook his hand feeling uneasy. Why was the principal there? "I'm waiting for Alex Moore. He has an appointment."
"That's what I'd like to talk to you about." The principal proceeded to say and walked up closer and took a seat across from me. The seat where Alex usually sat during our appointments.
"Is something wrong?" I asked looking up at him, concern in my voice. I had a bad feeling that something had happened to Alex.
"As a matter of fact yes," he cleared his throat, Mr. Moore's behavior is unacceptable. He starts fights right in front of the guards. He fights in the cafeteria, in the room and outside. He started five fights this week and he pulled a blade on one of the guards. I don't know where he got it from, but he cut him up." The principal spoke like each word he said was of great importance, pausing after each word and giving me meaningful looks. I didn't like him one bit, and I didn't like what I was hearing. I sunk deep into my chair and wished this conversation with the principal would be over and I could see Alex.
"We had just enough of him here," the principal continued with finality, crossing his arms, "We can't handle him here so we are transferring him to Riverside reformatory in Oklahoma City. That place is much stricter than ours. It will do him good."
My heart sank and I frowned at the mention of the Riverside reformatory. It was known for its strict rules and that people didn't return from there the same. It was the same as jail with cruel guards and strict discipline and almost no visitation hours. Everyone dreaded going there. I couldn't believe this was happening, I was quite shocked.
I started to fidget, "I don't think it's wise…" I said, letting my temper get the best of me, but then I realized I was overstepping my boundaries. I looked down, "Is there anything I can do?" I asked quietly, still having some hope.
"I'm afraid not Mr. Curtis." Principal Evans said curtly. I swallowed hard. I had to stop it. I knew if Alex was transferred he would never get on the right path. He would be in and out of jail his entire life just like so many from our neighborhood and to people like Mr. Evans he would be just another statistic.
"With all due respect," I said trying to keep my cool and keep the irritation out of my voice, "but my professional opinion on this matter is negative. We were making progress." That was a lie of course - we haven't made any progress whatsoever. Alex was totally unresponsive, but I went with a lie. "We have a really good program at the clinic," I said sounding pleading "it's for difficult kids. If you just give him a chance..."
"I'm afraid it's too late for that Mr. Curtis." He tilted his head forward and was looking down on me, the look o f 'I know it all' in his eyes. "Mr. Moore has been a distraction here, and we have enough distractions as it is. I don't know what kind of progress you were making. You are young Mr. Curtis," he cleared his throat, "but I've seen people like that over the years." He sounded all proud of himself. "They can't be helped. They steal, drink, fight, get in trouble with the law that's who they are. It's in their blood and it can't be helped. So to answer your question no there is nothing you can do and your services will no longer be necessary starting today."
I glared at him. I was infuriated - the principal was exactly like the social workers I and others grew up hating. He didn't see a person who needed help in Alex. He saw a criminal and a burden on society. I left the office almost telling the principal off. I slammed the door on my way out.
I was still fuming as I drove erratically back to my office. Once I got there I looked over Alex's file again. I felt really helpless. There was nothing I could do and it was driving me crazy. I especially hated how the principal said I was young and inexperienced and the principal supposedly knew so much better. And how he acted like I was beneath him.
I propped my elbows on the desk – my head in my hands. I started remembering how when I was in college I thought I'd be helping people from my neighborhood out. I remembered my professor who also was from the poor side of town. Wait a minute, I thought, professor Owens told me not to hesitate to call him if I needed help. Professor Owens has friends in all kinds of places including the Board of Education. I hurriedly went through my billfold looking for professor Owens' card. I found it, and dialed the number right away. I was a little nervous calling him, but I really needed help.
"Professor Owens," I heard the voice on the other end of the line.
"Hi professor Owens, this is Ponyboy Curtis I've been a student of yours do you remember me?" I asked swallowing hard.
"Of course, of course I remember you Ponyboy. You were one of my best students what can I do for you?" He sounded like he was glad to hear from me and eager to help.
"Well, I'm sorry to bother you," I started, stumbling over my words a little as I spoke, "but I remember you telling me to call if I needed help."
"Sure, that's what I said, how can I help you Ponyboy?"
"Well, one of my patients is in reformatory here in Tulsa, but he's been acting up, starting fights, pulled a blade on one of the guards. They are transferring him to the Riverside reformatory." I said, and I'm sure professor Owens could hear the despair in my voice. I looked at the receiver in my hand like it was my last hope.
"Is that the reformatory in Oklahoma City?" professor Owens asked.
"Yes that's the one. He can't go. If he goes there is no chance of him having a normal life. I remember you said you have friends everywhere," I paused, "including the Board of Education" I added awkwardly. "Well, I thought if it's not too much to ask maybe you can ask your friends at the Board of Education to give Mr. Evans, the principal at the reformatory a call and tell him not to transfer my patient. If it's not too much trouble." I added, my voice quivering and I felt sweat dripping down my spine.
"Please calm down Ponyboy" the professor said simply "and don't worry about it. In fact I'm glad you called. The Riverside reformatory is reserved for those who can't be helped. I wouldn't want your guy go there. Consider it a done deal what's the guy's name?"
"Alex Moore." I almost whispered and exhaled in relief.
"Don't you worry Ponyboy he isn't going anywhere." The professor sounded really confident and that confidence rubbed off on me. "Oh thank you so much professor Owens, you don't know what this means to me."
"Glad to help." professor Owens said, "keep me posted on how everything goes." "Sure thing, bye now." If I was infuriated before, I was overjoyed now. I'll show this principal Evans who's the boss. What's with him rubbing it in that I was young and was just starting out.
On Friday I received a phone call from principal Evans. He sounded pretty mad.
"Hi," he said and got right down to business. "I have received a call this morning form the Board of Education telling me not to transfer Mr. Moore to Riverside reformatory, and what I was wondering is how on earth they even knew about Mr. Moore. Does this have anything to do with you not wanting him transferred?" The principal sounded furious.
I took a deep breath, but I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Here I was a rookie and the principal who was trying to rub it in that I was young and inexperienced now had to obey my decision.
"Yes, as a matter of fact it does. I've talked to some of my friends and I told them about Alex and what his deal is and they happened to agree with me that he shouldn't be transferred for which I'm very thankful. We will also enroll him in the program at the clinic, the one I told you about."
"You know I don't appreciate you going behind my back," the principal barked. "And I don't appreciate sending someone so young who has his whole life ahead of him away and ruining the rest of his life. Now when can I see my patient?"
There was an awkward pause on the other end of the line. "You can see him this afternoon." the principal finally said and hung up the phone without saying another word. That went well I thought hanging up the phone and smiling in spite of myself.
At around 3:00 p.m. I was at the office at the reformatory. In a little while Alex walked in. He took a seat and there was his usual facial expression whenever he met with me – indifference and boredom, but I noticed his appearance was disheveled and his eyes were red as if he was crying.
"So I heard you were going to be transferred to Riverside reformatory," I said trying to meet his gaze. Alex nodded barely acknowledging my presence.
"What's that to you?" I gave him a long look, God, he must hate me, I thought. I didn't know what to say so I just cut to the chase, "You are not going to be transferred." I said tiredly, not expecting much of a reaction from Alex. Alex looked up and there was disbelief in his eyes, "I am not?" He repeated mechanically leaning closer to the desk.
"No, and do you know why that is? Take a wild guess." I was really nervous talking to Alex. I hoped that once Alex realized it was me that got him to stay here and not be transferred he'd drop the attitude and would just talk to me.
"What ? You?" Alex asked swallowing hard, his eyes wide.
"Yes, me." For a moment he looked up at me and then, "Why?" he said bitterly, his voice hoarse. "You don't give a shit anyway." He said it like he didn't expect that from a social worker.
"Because I don't give up on people easily." I replied looking him right in the eyes. He was silent, but I could feel his curiosity was getting the best of him.
"How'd you do it?" He asked, "They were really set on shipping me over there."
"Let's just say I have connections." I smiled. Alex looked down.
"And I know something else," I continued, "I know you were a pusher before you got here." Alex's head snapped up, "How'd you know that?" That's the reaction I was going for.
"Like I said," I repeated smiling again, "I have connections." Now Alex looked plain scared. "Don't worry," I rushed to assure him, "I 'm not telling anyone, but I just want you to know that nothing gets past me."
"You really won't tell?" He asked his voice trembling, his face turning pale. I nodded. Alex gave me one long, stern look. Like he was testing me or something. "Why?" he said again bitterly through clenched teeth, "not that you care…" I was silent for a minute, looking over at him. After all he was just a kid, and I suspected that he was scared. I remembered myself when I was his age. The world can seem strange and complicated at that age. I remember how helpless we felt that our destiny and whether we could stay together depended on a single decision of social workers. We had no say in that, and they really didn't care.
I looked over at Alex again, he was staring at his lap. "That's where you are wrong I do care." I tried to sound as friendly and as convincing as I possibly could.
"Whatever," he said not looking at me, his voice trembling. He was trying to look tough, but I could tell that he was he was holding back tears. I was getting really emotional. "Hey," I said softly, "look at me please," He didn't move, just glanced up at me, and then looked down again.
"I'm here to help you and not judge you at all. I hope you can see that."
The expression on Alex's face was that of confusion. Like he didn't know how to act. He didn't know if he should keep his indifference and attitude or if he could actually talk to me.
Alex put his hands on the desk. He was wearing short sleeves, and I noticed something on his wrist. It looked like a mark or a scar. "What's this?" I asked looking at the mark. Alex realized his mistake. He quickly removed his hands from the desk and put them on his knees. "What is it?" I asked firmly, starting to get an idea. The mark looked like it was done by a burning cigarette. "Alex…" I gave him a meaningful look.
"It's nothing," he almost spat at me, contempt in his voice "none of your damn business," The expression on his face was that of bitterness and despair, and I could tell he was really struggling to keep it together."
"Is it someone in your family who did it to you?" - Silence.
"Is it your dad?" I persisted – More silence, but he really didn't need to say anything. It was pretty clear. He didn't have any brothers so that meant it was his dad. I was taken aback. Alex's file didn't say anything about domestic abuse, but now that I'd seen a mark from the cigarette I wondered if there was more.
"Your dad does he do other stuff?" I didn't expect an answer and I didn't get one, so I just continued. "Does he like rough you up a little, maybe hit you?" Alex was silent and still looking down so I couldn't see his eyes, then I saw his shoulders started shaking and I realized that he was crying. "He does," he said through tears, "all the time. He belts me and kicks me out of the house. I'd rather stay here than go back there." That was a revelation to me.
"I hate him," he sobbed, "and I hate what he does. I hate fighting, but I can't help it and start fights all the time. I don't mean to, it just happens and then they were gonna transfer me to Riverside and all," he was sobbing. "I never told anyone," he continued.
"Well," I said carefully, "there's no shame in asking for help." I instantly thought of Johnny, "Tell you what, I have a friend who went through what you are going through. Would you like to talk to him?" I couldn't even imagine what he was going through if he says he'd rather stay at the reformatory than go home, I hoped to God that him talking to Johnny would help.
"Ok." Alex said quietly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
After my meeting with Alex I felt really bad. I was glad Alex was not being transferred and that I finally got through to him, but I was really shook up by what Alex told me about his dad. I hoped that Alex talking to Johnny would help.
On Saturday during the visitation hours Johnny and I were walking up the stairs at the reformatory entrance. I told Johnny all about Alex, and Johnny eagerly agreed to talk to him. We went to the visitation room, and the guard went and got Alex.
"This is my friend Johnny," I introduced him, "and this is Alex. Well, I'll leave you two alone to talk." With that I left, I didn't want to intrude on their conversation.
I was sitting in the lobby tapping my fingers waiting for Johnny. In about half an hour he finally entered the lobby. I got up from my seat and walked up and met him half way. "So how did it go?" I asked anxiously. Johnny looked shook up. I'm sure his memories about his abusive parents were still fresh even though he didn't live with them anymore. "Um…it went ok… I think." He said quietly. I pointed to the chairs. We sat down, and I waited for Johnny to start talking. "So what'd you tell him, man?" I asked desperately hoping that it really went ok. Johnny sighed – "As I thought he was blaming himself. Thought he was doing something wrong and that's why his dad hates him. So I told him it's not his fault. That his dad is the one messed up, not him."
"Did he believe you?" I asked apprehensively, leaning on the back of my chair.
"I'm not sure," Johnny said sadly, "I think he still has doubts. He was crying pretty hard. Told me he felt worthless and that he starts fights to prove to himself that he's worth something. I tried to explain to him that everyone's life is worth something."
I was overwhelmed with emotion, "I don't know how to thank you, Johnny. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you to talk to him." I said choking up a little.
"Are you ok, man?" Johnny put his arm on my shoulder.
I bit my lower lip, "I'm alright, Johnny, what else did he say?"
"After I told him that I used to think about killing myself, he admitted that he thought of suicide or running away, and I told him that you can find him a nice foster family so he doesn't have to suffer anymore." Johnny's big brown eyes were wide as he was looking at me, and I knew in his mind he was reliving his past with his parents. He cleared his throat and added, "I told him you were different, that you really cared. I think he believed me."
"I wouldn't bet on that." I said sarcastically considering how Alex didn't believe me when I tried to explain to him that I cared. In any case I had my work cut out for me. "Thanks Johnny," I said again and we got up and went to the car.