Even though I'd never heard any of this, the stories reflected the Daijha I had known as a teenager. She and her friends at Brooklyn Collaborative High School did hang out with kids who got into real trouble, but that was virtually impossible to avoid. We had Bloods and Crips; a boy who was arrested at age 15 for selling crack; another kid who told me he pistol-whipped a man in the face, a girl who smuggled a handgun into my classroom in her purse. The school itself was mostly warm and peaceful, but many of the kids dragged heavy baggage through its doors. Daijha was wise and mature, and the group of girls who clustered around her stood out in their willingness to stay late and seek extra homework help. Then, they might go and blow off some steam: a few wine coolers and cigarettes, but only after the school work was done. Her mother didn't like it, but she knew that there were worse problems in the neighborhood, and figured that Daijha needed some kind of escape.