Her real name is Ms. Cartwright, and she's our teacher.
We're in the eighth grade-- me, Abraham, Julio, Alex, Miguel,
and a bunch of little chavalas. This is the second time
in the eighth grade for me and most of my homies and, at the rate
we're going, we may have to do it over again next year...if
they don't just kick us out first. Don't really matter.
We've got other things to do besides being school boys.
One day La Narizona started asking me some questions about why I
was in a gang and stuff. She makes it real clear that she hates
gangs, but you can kinda tell that she wants to know what's
up with us. She's like this middle-class, never-got-high,
white girl, so she doesn't understand where me and the
homies are coming from.
That's what this story is all about.
She said to me one day, "Marcos, I know you're in a gang, so don't try to deny it. Just explain to me why. What's the appeal?"
She's always using words like that...."appeal".
"It's fun," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"We go to parties, hang out, and sometimes we get to throw
down with other gangs."
"So, what are your colors? Are they blue and black?"
Some fool in the front row of the class kept stealing her blue
and black whiteboard markers, so I guess that's where she
got that idea.
"Nah. We don't believe in that red and blue stuff
anymore. We use whatever color we want."
"Do you use guns?" she asked.
"Only if someone uses guns on us."
"I heard that you could buy a .45 for $45. Is that true?"
"More like $50," I told her.
She looked shocked and kinda sad.
"I still don't get it. Are you and Abraham in the same
gang?"
Abraham has her class in the afternoons.
"No," I laughed. "He's a Treinta."
"And you're a Red Step!" she nodded, like she knew all about it.
She only knew that because I had tagged up my notebook with LHRS
(Logan Heights Red Steps) and stuff, and she sent me to the
office to buy a new one. Actually, I'm now on my third
notebook. I can't help it. When I don't understand
something, I just zone out. I don't want to ask anybody and
look weak. So, I just tag up my notebook instead of doing work.
"Yeah, but the Treintas and Red Steps are both part of Logan," I bragged.
Anyway, the conversation continued like that, you get the idea. I
don't think she realized how important being in the biggest,
best gang in San Diego is. She thinks we should be getting ready
for high school and college and stuff.
Finally, she said, "Marcos, why don't you write me some
stories about yourself and the gangs. Maybe I'll understand
it better."
Later that afternoon, kickin' it, I thought about what she
said. I'm not good at writing and stuff. I can never think
about what to write. But if I could write about the kinds of
things that go on in the 'hood...well, at least I could keep
from flunking English again.
Of course, this was probably a typical teacher trick to get me to
write something besides "LHRS" but, who knows, it might
be kinda fun. No one else wants to hear our side of it.