Response by Paul Volponi

Boosting Krispy Kremes?
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Maybe I’m a mafia don, Buckwheat. ( Continues to pace. )
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    WHITE OFFICER ( To Black Inmate #1. ): You don’t know who that is? That’s the Babe Ruth of Hillsboro. He’s got no problem playing baseball with the brothers, as long as he’s cracking heads with the bat.
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    BLACK INMATE #1: Word. That’s him? They better keep this fence up in front of me. I’ll smack the shit out of that coward.
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Go mug another old lady for her pocketbook! Then hit the pipe! ( Inhales deeply and, holding his breath, pretends to get high. )
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    VOICE ( From a barred window above. ): Suck on this, Bat-man!
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    BLACK INMATE #1: See, you’d be somebody’s bitch if you were in population, cracker.
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    CHARLIE SCAT ( Loses his temper. ): Crackhead!
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    BLACK OFFICER: How many years you looking at, Scaturro?
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Twenty-five. That long enough for ya, Ace?
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    BLACK OFFICER: After I retire, my kids can finish watching your racist ass. ( Laughs. )
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    CHARLIE SCAT ( Snidely. ): I’m not looking for years. I’m looking for justice. And that tin badge you’re wearing ain’t gonna get it for me.
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    BLACK INMATE #1 ( To Black Inmate #2, inside Scat’s rectangle. ): Yo, Black , you gonna represent and whip this boy’s ass or what?
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Bring it! I don’t care. Just ’cause it’s two on one, don’t let that scare you. ( Other white inmate walks as far away from Scat as possible. ) Go ahead! Punk out! ( To white inmate. ) I got two ex-friends just like you. It’s all on me anyway!
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    WHITE OFFICER ( To Black Officer. ): How long you think it’s gonna take us to open that gate if something jumps off?
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    BLACK OFFICER: I figure at least thirty seconds. ( Grins wide. ) Maybe more .
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    BLACK INMATE #2 ( Inside Scat’s rectangle .): I ain’t picking up another charge for killing this piece of crap. That’s nothing but a setup, right there. ( Shakes his head. ) Just tell me, Fatty, how come you hate my people so much?
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    CHARLIE SCAT: I don’t hate black people! ( Screams to the walls of the courtyard .) I don’t! I love them all! I love them so much I wanna fuck ’em! All right?
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    VOICE ( From a different window above .): We don’t love you, asshole! But we’ll fuck you, too.
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Come on, man. One on one then. ( Points to the worn-out basketball in Black Inmate #2’s hands. )
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    BLACK INMATE # 2 : Here! ( Nearly knocks Scat over with a two-handed chest pass .)
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    CHARLIE SCAT ( Wildly angry .): I don’t need no bat! I got skillz . Wanna see? Watch me! ( Scat slams the ball down to dribble, but it flies up off the concrete, nailing him hard in the chin .)
    Hysterical, howling laughter from a dozen windows and everyone else on the ground echoes through the courtyard.
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    CHARLIE SCAT: Fuck you all! ( Kicks the ball into the chain-link fence with a thud .)

Chapter NINE
    IT DIDN’T MATTER THAT THE DOCTORS SAID Grandma would be all right. Those few hours in that waiting room while they did a simple procedure felt like forever. I was wound up so tight I couldn’t keep still, pacing back and forth till I memorized every magazine cover and stain on the couch cushions inside those four walls.
    I looked around at all the other black faces of the patients and their families, and wondered what was the only difference between East Franklin Memorial, where Grandma was, and St. Luke’s hospital in Hillsboro, where I got took. Was it just the neighborhoods they were in? Or did people in Hillsboro get better doctors because they owned their own houses and had more money to pay?
    Then I started to wonder if I’d still be alive, or maybe some kind of brain-damaged vegetable, if I got attacked on the other side of Decatur Avenue and that ambulance had brought me here