Hereditary Poorness

A short story I wrote about a year ago. Only piece of writing I'm somewhat proud of. Just wanted to see what others think.

“Alright I’ll pick up the gram after school.”

That was probably the sentence Ricky James heard most often. Ricky James is quite the character to those who don’t know him very well, but for those who do, he’s a completely different person.

Ricky is the drug lord of high school. He’s got it all. Anything you want, he either has it, or he can get it.

Everyone loves Ricky, he seems like a great kid. Good looks, can make anyone smile, kind, caring, and gets good grades. The greatest thing about it all though, none of the teachers would ever expect him to be a dealer or do anything bad. It’s almost as though the teachers would turn a blind eye to every bad rumor about Ricky.

Even those who knew he was a drug deal though, did not really know him on a personal level. They didn’t know what he did for fun, or who he hung out with. They didn’t know what made him laugh, and made him angry. No one knew about Ricky James’ home life. It was truly a mystery.

Now lets take a look Ricky’s daily life.

5:30 A.M. Waking Up

*Beep Beep Beep*

“Damn i went to bed at 10:30 last night and I’m still tired.”

He makes his way downstairs, in search of food.

“Mom’s gone again, she said she has a new job but, there’s still no food on the table.”

“Probably at Dave’s house again. I wish she wasn’t so attracted to him. For what he does to her, he doesn’t even pay well.”

“I guess i’ll eat something at school. I still got $20 from yesterday’s deals.”

7:30 Bus Ride

“Hey! Ricky come back here, i got a question on my homework.”

This to Ricky, was an invitation to a drug deal.

“Alright you got a pencil?”

Translation : You got money, right?

“Yeah, of course!”

Ricky slid into the bus seat next to the boy. Pretty close to the back. Uncomfortable, dank, and in most people’s eyes, scary. But Ricky was respected, and was consistent. No one had any problems with Ricky. No need for him to be scared.

“Alright, i’m going to need an ounce of weed, don’t worry. I have the money right now, “ the boy whispered.

The boy pushed a wad of bills towards Ricky.

“You can give me half now and half tomorrow. Are you sure you want to give me the full payment now?” Ricky asked.

“No worries, i trust you man’

Trust. This was why Ricky couldn’t mess up. Screwing with a druggy’s trust was a very poor idea.

7:45 First Class :

“Dodgeball everybody!” yelled the gym teacher.

“First game boys versus girls!”

Great for Ricky,now all his regulars can ask for a deal.

7:55 Second Game

“Wow. No one has asked for anything yet,” thought Ricky, “that’s great.”

11:30 Lunch

Ricky James sits by himself at lunch. A lonesome table, in the corner of the cafeteria. Surrounded by other empty tables. Ricky ate lunch like how he lived life. Alone. If someone went to his table, it was for drugs. However, Ricky was smart. He made sure everyone who came to his table came with a book, notebook, and a pen. This way it would make it look like the kids would be coming over for academic help.

12:00 English

“I graded your essays! Overall, I would say you all did very well. I really could only find a few small errors here and there.”

Ricky knew what was coming next. He was going to have to read his essay out loud. His english teacher adored him. Ricky couldn’t think of a time he didn’t get a 100 on one of his essays.

“Ricky, hunny, will you come up and read your essay to the class. It was organized so well, and your vocabulary was spectacular!”

So Ricky read his essay. The class clapped, like they always did. Ricky’s essays really were good. But Mrs. Johnson may have glanced over a few small errors here and there to avoid taking off any points.

1:00 History

“Alright can everybody turn in their projects now, please?” asked the teacher, “just put them in the homework bin.”

“Crap,” thought Ricky, “I completely forgot to do that.”

“Mr. Evan?, can I bring mine in tomorrow, I completely forgot about it in my folder on my bed.”

“Yeah of course Ricky.”

The benefits of being a good student, wrapped up in a question and an answer.

2:00 Advisory

“Class, for this advisory we are going to be talking about the derogatory effects of drinking, smoking, and doing drugs.”

You may be thinking how ironic it is that they are talking about how bad something is, telling Ricky how awful the stuff he sells is. The funny thing is, Ricky doesn’t even do drugs, he doesn’t drink, and he doesn’t even smoke. Sure, in the past you may have tried some light alcohol and drugs, but he hasn’t touched that stuff more than once, or in many years.

2:30 Walking Home

Ricky lives in the ghetto. No, not the rotten buildings with urchin roaming the streets. Just poor people who spend their money on the wrong things. People who made the wrong choices. Or people like Ricky, kids and adults that were born into systematic poorness. There’s rarely any violence, but Ricky was about to walk into an uncommon, and unfortunate, situation.

“You don’t have any money? Are you serious?!”

“I’m sorry man, I just couldn’t work it up. One more month and I’ll have it, I promise.”

“One month, fine. That’s all you have. One more month or your a*s is dust.

Ricky heard a gunshot.

“AHHHHH!”

“There’s a little motivation for you.”

As Ricky rounded the corner he was face to face with a small man, grimy and scroungy, a kid who grew up learning how to hussle and steal, and who’s college degree would be earned when he stole something big and expensive, something impressive to his kind of people.

“Did you hear that kid?”

Ricky nodded his head. He was positive a look of pure terror and horror had taken over his face. His mind was racing. Thoughts of what he was going to do next were racing through his head, but his body felt numb, paralyzed. Ricky wasn’t able to move. He was frozen in terror.

“You tell anyone, and you’ll end up like him. Pay people the money you owe, or you’ll find yourself dead in some back alley.”

The man sprinted away leaving Ricky stunned. As Ricky’s head came back into reality so did his body, and eventually he pushed himself into a sprint for the rest of the way home.

3:00 At Home

“God. My mom still isn’t home.”

At this point, Ricky’s mind was a hornets’ nest. What he just said was an automated response, he was used to his mom not being home. It was a thoughtless phrase. Ricky wasn’t sure what to do, nor was he completely sure why he was so scared and so frightened. He pulled a notebook and pen out of his bag, they felt so necessary to have. He didn’t even know why.

3:30 The Roof

Ricky was on top of his apartments roof, right above the third floor. One of the nicer apartments of the area. The walls were painted, and the water and electricity was always running, which was much more then you could say about a lot of the other houses around Ricky’s.

Ricky pulled out a chair, and sat there with a notebook and pen in his lap.

6:00 The Roof

Three floors up. So many things for a kid like Ricky to do up here. To a kid who had it made, nothing. To a kid who’s parents paid for everything, to a kid who didn’t have to worry about walking out of his when it was dark, to the kid’s who lived in safety, ate whenever they wanted, and lived in a warm and cozy environment, nothing. But to Ricky, this was an all purpose entertainment system. He could hear the music of the city; the cars, the stores, the people, they all organized into one melody. He could could watch a movie; the sun setting, the cars moving, the tall buildings shutting down. Ricky could write a novel, he has all he needs, a pen and paper, ideas, and a place to sit. Ricky could commit suicide if he wanted to. He was three stories up, he could jump right off this building, break every bone in his body. The roof, the roof of some basic apartment building, was anything Ricky wanted it to be. What Ricky James used the roof for this time, would’ve never been what people guessed it would be. His classmates would tell you he was smoking pot, his mom wouldn’t even he could get up there, and you, what do you think Ricky James was doing?

Ricky James was drawing. No, not full pictures with shading and sophistication. No, Ricky’s drawings could’ve been mistaken for the artwork of a third grader. Simple stick figures. Ricky holding his mom’s hand. Ricky walking a dog. Ricky sitting in a field of grass instead of an industrialized crap hole of a neighborhood. Ricky drew what he wished his life could be. Ricky drew how he wished he grew up. He created a mom who cared, and an environment that was safe. Ricky’s drawings were stained with tears. Tears of hate, tears of love, and tears of want. Ricky James was not a selfish kid. He just wanted a good life for him and his mom. He wanted his mom to actually care how he lived, and to care about and respect herself. He didn’t want her to sell herself to abuse. He didn’t want to sell drugs. Drugs were his everything, not on an addict level, but on a live or die basis. Without drugs, Ricky wouldn’t have the money to eat. Drugs brought Ricky food and clothes. Nothing else. Ricky James lived a life of sadness and despair. He couldn’t communicate or relate with other kids. Ricky wasn’t able to make friends or go out and do fun things. Ricky had no fun or happiness in his life. He couldn’t afford to do anything that was fun, and he was so distant from the other kids in his grade that he couldn’t have fun with them. Ricky’s days were the same. But he knew if he worked hard in school, that he had a chance to go somewhere bigger and better. He knew he would be able to dig himself out of the hell hole he was in. He knew that one day he would feel what happiness and joy were like. That was all the motivation that Ricky needed.

Imagine living a life without love. Imagine living without being loved. Imagine being Ricky James.

Author's Note

I'm only a teenager but I will accept any criticism. I understand it probably isn't that great but im looking for ways to expand upon this piece of work to hopefully create a small novel of some sort.

Reviews

[Marie]

You made some mistakes in punctuation, but this is still quite good. Ricky James is an interesting character, and this might make a good novel.