Read Online A Deeper Love Inside by Sister Souljah - Free Book Online
Authors: Sister Souljah
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organized team. She don’t do nothing but keep the trouble brewing,” Lina said, her temper showing only through her pretty eyes. “Porsche, you have to make everyone believe that you have changed, by changing yourmethod of reacting and doing things. Even if you haven’t really changed on the inside, like your feelings and stuff, you have to make them believe that you have,” Lina said, and I felt at that moment that that was what she had done. On the inside she was angry and boiling like me. For some reason, she saw or learned a benefit to convincing others that she wasn’t.
“Santiaga,” Lina said, calling me by my last name. I liked the way it sounded coming from her lips, so different than from the warden’s. “Make customers, not war,” Lina said, sounding like my poppa.
“The festival is the only time of year where, for four hours and fifteen minutes, we can roam freely on the yard and mix with other people who aren’t locked down like us. Some of us get only one day a year for a family member to travel all the way up here to visit us. Or, it’s our only chance to see somebody we really like, not through a glass, or dirty bulletproof plastic or over a bullshit phone, or through a fence or gate. Not sitting in a small room without the chance to even touch or hug. Some girls got business on the yard on festival day. There are always competitions and prizes, good shit that can be won and sold. We Diamond Needles are all about our business and opportunities, and once a year the festival is an opportunity for us to each do something different, earn something extra, and see somebody special. You, too, Santiaga!”
Lina had me open. It was not because of no fucking festival, though. I just liked her and the feeling coming from her and the way she made me feel, like she believed in something. More than that, she made me feel like, even though she doubted me, she loved me. Of course she loved me. She sat and spoke to me and listened to me when I spoke. She taught me things I needed to know and gave me things she didn’t have to give. When she got mad at something I said, she didn’t give up or abandon me. She took the time to explain herself and her meaning. Even though I knew Lina wouldn’t say so, she knew I was smart enough even though I was young. She wouldn’t have wasted her time if she wasn’t sure I was capable.
The last question I asked her before parting, “You say all the Diamond Needles have a hustle. What’s yours, Lina?”
“Data,” she said. I thought she was speaking in Spanish again.
“ Data is information. It’s the most important hustle, not only in here, but in total el mundo , the whole world.”
Chapter 7
Two months later, I’m on the yard. Been in a baby blue jumper with no red interruptions, no fights, no lockdown at the bottom. Authorities are shocked at my turnaround. Instead of them leaving me alone for not fighting no more, they look me over more closer. They wouldn’t get nothing new on me. I’m determined.
Getting ganged up was the best thing that happened to me since I was separated from my real family. Don’t get me wrong. Prison is prison, not fun or a fucking picnic. But being connected eased some of my stresses. I wasn’t silly enough to think my piece of peace would go on for the whole stretch of my stay, but even a brief break from the pressure was welcomed. It felt good to know I was not affiliated with just any group, but with the sharpest girls on the yard.
Unlike at my real home, which would always be the only real place for me, here I wasn’t the invisible middle child. I was the baby, and I had ten big sisters.
True, I wasn’t old enough to catch a prison job, internship, or assignment. Still I made my own hustle using what I already had, to get what I wanted and to play my part in the clique. I didn’t want to stay the baby or the son forever. I wanted to even up.
So, in the C-dorm, where I had influence, I listened and learned. I sorted
“Santiaga,” Lina said, calling me by my last name. I liked the way it sounded coming from her lips, so different than from the warden’s. “Make customers, not war,” Lina said, sounding like my poppa.
“The festival is the only time of year where, for four hours and fifteen minutes, we can roam freely on the yard and mix with other people who aren’t locked down like us. Some of us get only one day a year for a family member to travel all the way up here to visit us. Or, it’s our only chance to see somebody we really like, not through a glass, or dirty bulletproof plastic or over a bullshit phone, or through a fence or gate. Not sitting in a small room without the chance to even touch or hug. Some girls got business on the yard on festival day. There are always competitions and prizes, good shit that can be won and sold. We Diamond Needles are all about our business and opportunities, and once a year the festival is an opportunity for us to each do something different, earn something extra, and see somebody special. You, too, Santiaga!”
Lina had me open. It was not because of no fucking festival, though. I just liked her and the feeling coming from her and the way she made me feel, like she believed in something. More than that, she made me feel like, even though she doubted me, she loved me. Of course she loved me. She sat and spoke to me and listened to me when I spoke. She taught me things I needed to know and gave me things she didn’t have to give. When she got mad at something I said, she didn’t give up or abandon me. She took the time to explain herself and her meaning. Even though I knew Lina wouldn’t say so, she knew I was smart enough even though I was young. She wouldn’t have wasted her time if she wasn’t sure I was capable.
The last question I asked her before parting, “You say all the Diamond Needles have a hustle. What’s yours, Lina?”
“Data,” she said. I thought she was speaking in Spanish again.
“ Data is information. It’s the most important hustle, not only in here, but in total el mundo , the whole world.”
Chapter 7
Two months later, I’m on the yard. Been in a baby blue jumper with no red interruptions, no fights, no lockdown at the bottom. Authorities are shocked at my turnaround. Instead of them leaving me alone for not fighting no more, they look me over more closer. They wouldn’t get nothing new on me. I’m determined.
Getting ganged up was the best thing that happened to me since I was separated from my real family. Don’t get me wrong. Prison is prison, not fun or a fucking picnic. But being connected eased some of my stresses. I wasn’t silly enough to think my piece of peace would go on for the whole stretch of my stay, but even a brief break from the pressure was welcomed. It felt good to know I was not affiliated with just any group, but with the sharpest girls on the yard.
Unlike at my real home, which would always be the only real place for me, here I wasn’t the invisible middle child. I was the baby, and I had ten big sisters.
True, I wasn’t old enough to catch a prison job, internship, or assignment. Still I made my own hustle using what I already had, to get what I wanted and to play my part in the clique. I didn’t want to stay the baby or the son forever. I wanted to even up.
So, in the C-dorm, where I had influence, I listened and learned. I sorted
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