Middle class street punks.
Apr. 19th, 2007 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusThe group of teenagers climbed into the back of the bus like a small horde, excited and swearing loudly. Breathless with a strange energy I couldn't identify. "Welcome to the back of the bus," the oldest one said, formally, and I grinned back at him, startled by the contrast between the intelligent voices and the rough crowd I saw. They stopped just short of having spikes sticking out of their heads (and not by much).
Without looking at them, they sounded like any middle class, suburbanite kids, if slightly more foul-mouthed. But the jagged energy of the group, the way they clung together -- and the undercurrent of excitement -- struck me as odd. I pretended to doze, listening. The words were jumbled and chaotic, but the story slowly pieced itself together.
One complained about a cop, whom she knew by name, with whom she had a No Contact order. The cop approached her anyway, using the fact that she'd given a fake name as an excuse -- even though she knew that he recognized her. She changed subjects and laughingly complained about a friend (sort of) called "Bubbles" pawing at her, and having to tell her, "That's my tit. Knock it off." Apparently "Bubbles" took liberties with others, too.
The kids fell silent (not upset silent, but in-heat silent: the guys liked it). Then they returned to the original subject and complained about a friend who nearly gave away the name of someone called "Imeem." "She nearly screwed it up. But then she said, 'Chris?'"
The oldest one, I'd guess him to be about 19 or 20, defended her. "Chris is good. Let the cops look for 'Chris.' Not Imeem."
Imeem was mentioned with reverence and a little fear.
"And then she almost told them to go upstairs!" There was swearing and general agreement.
The subject changed to someone asking the oldest guy if he'd applied to a particular job.
The guy said he had, and mentioned work for The Cheesecake Factory and bringing home a piece of cheesecake. "This fucking rat – I shut my eyes... okay, I was stoned – and I woke up and my cheesecake was nibbled on and there was this rat. I said, 'Fucking rat, you ate my cheesecake!'" The kids laughed, some murmured about the rats scratching around at night. "I wanted to kill that rat!"
After a pause someone mentioned flashlights and the police. A very young guy said, his voice a little scared, "Did you see the big cop?"
The first girl broke in again, the too-loud voice of experience (maybe less than she claimed), naming cops she recognized and complaining about them, the fact that they wanted her street name. "I don't have a street name! Street names are stupid! I like my real name."
She was interrupted by a happy yell from the rest of the group. A black girl in a bandana and a pleasant round face was getting on the bus, hailed like long-lost family. A couple of the guys got up to help her carry her bags down the aisle.
"Did you hear? Squat was busted."
The black girl gave a calm, rueful smile and said, "I heard."
Without looking at them, they sounded like any middle class, suburbanite kids, if slightly more foul-mouthed. But the jagged energy of the group, the way they clung together -- and the undercurrent of excitement -- struck me as odd. I pretended to doze, listening. The words were jumbled and chaotic, but the story slowly pieced itself together.
One complained about a cop, whom she knew by name, with whom she had a No Contact order. The cop approached her anyway, using the fact that she'd given a fake name as an excuse -- even though she knew that he recognized her. She changed subjects and laughingly complained about a friend (sort of) called "Bubbles" pawing at her, and having to tell her, "That's my tit. Knock it off." Apparently "Bubbles" took liberties with others, too.
The kids fell silent (not upset silent, but in-heat silent: the guys liked it). Then they returned to the original subject and complained about a friend who nearly gave away the name of someone called "Imeem." "She nearly screwed it up. But then she said, 'Chris?'"
The oldest one, I'd guess him to be about 19 or 20, defended her. "Chris is good. Let the cops look for 'Chris.' Not Imeem."
Imeem was mentioned with reverence and a little fear.
"And then she almost told them to go upstairs!" There was swearing and general agreement.
The subject changed to someone asking the oldest guy if he'd applied to a particular job.
The guy said he had, and mentioned work for The Cheesecake Factory and bringing home a piece of cheesecake. "This fucking rat – I shut my eyes... okay, I was stoned – and I woke up and my cheesecake was nibbled on and there was this rat. I said, 'Fucking rat, you ate my cheesecake!'" The kids laughed, some murmured about the rats scratching around at night. "I wanted to kill that rat!"
After a pause someone mentioned flashlights and the police. A very young guy said, his voice a little scared, "Did you see the big cop?"
The first girl broke in again, the too-loud voice of experience (maybe less than she claimed), naming cops she recognized and complaining about them, the fact that they wanted her street name. "I don't have a street name! Street names are stupid! I like my real name."
She was interrupted by a happy yell from the rest of the group. A black girl in a bandana and a pleasant round face was getting on the bus, hailed like long-lost family. A couple of the guys got up to help her carry her bags down the aisle.
"Did you hear? Squat was busted."
The black girl gave a calm, rueful smile and said, "I heard."
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 05:30 am (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 01:52 pm (UTC)if you ever get the chance watch the movie "Treed Murray" usually known in the US as "Get Down" (which is a god-awful name) but the movie hits on exactly this (and a lot of other social issues too)
and it's got our favorite SGA guy in it too!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 02:08 pm (UTC)But street punks are street punks, whatever the color. The fact that these kids were clearly from the suburbs doesn't change the fact that they were living in a squat. I got the sense that most of them were there because of drugs more than poverty. that was the main difference.
Icarus