I kept my remarks brief and simply introduced the boys. The kids in the audience perked up a bit when I spoke, probably because they knew it wouldn’t last long. Gerald and Sean each acquitted themselves well, briefly saying what they liked about Chelsea and what they didn’t in simple but inviting terms. Then Rashid stepped to the microphone, as easily as he had before his chapel talk that day. I felt the skin on the backs of my hands tighten.

“I used to live not too far from here. I went to Banneker, I.S. Fifty-two. Didn’t get in here on the lottery.” The boys laughed. “My brother was killed not far from here. Just going to the corner for a Coke, minding his own business. Wasn’t killed by a white man, either—just another brother who wanted what he had. After that, I started thinking.” A long pause. He looked directly at his parents, who gazed at him, rapt. The room breathed silence. “I looked at my brother lying in his coffin, and the only thing I could think was that I didn’t want to end up the same way. And I was afraid that the only way to avoid ending up the same way was to get away from this city. I found some stuff about Chelsea in my brother’s things, and it was like he was showing me what to do. I checked it out. It was nothing like my life. Nothing like the life I had then. After Kofi got killed, that’s what I wanted. Now that I have it …” He trailed off, his voice ragged. A deep breath, and then, “Now that I have it, I sometimes think I can see how my life can be, what do they call it, a testament to his. If I can learn to deal, to really deal with the world like it is—not like it is just in this neighborhood, but like it is where the power is, like it is everywhere that things are not fair—then maybe I can make my life worth enough for both of us. I don’t love Chelsea. But it’s teaching me that. You have to decide for yourselves if that’s something you want to learn.” He sat down.

The room was as quiet as stone. Jerome stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. After a moment, I got up and walked to the podium. “Thank you, Rashid, for sharing your feelings so eloquently and honestly. I’d like to think that Chelsea helped you learn how to present yourself that way—but I’m not sure we can take credit for that.” I turned to the audience. “Are there any questions?”