Shawn's screams turned to murmurs. Brice pushed himself from him.
Yasmine yelled, "Help."
Brice reached for Shawn. The memory ended with him on his bedroom floor. He had curled up like a ball wiping his tears, chanting not scare. He drifted off to sleep. Morning brought him a stiff neck and goosebumps. He dressed and drove down his street, stopping in front of Arcadio's house.
Relaxed on the porch, Arcadio leaned back in his dinette chair. He gave shout outs to Tattle Tell members trampling across his dirt yard. Brice rolled his window down, glaring at Arcadio. The person who destroy him stood up and let out a Santa Claus laugh with his silk red shirt and pants. Arcadio's white alligator shoes snapped Brice's out his trance.
Brice sped his Chrysler Shadow through the swirling October winds, which accumulated brown leaves and debris. He had promised himself no more tardiness. But the railroad crossing gates were down, he had wasted time taunting Arcadio and didn't avoid the morning trains. He couldn’t bypass the train tracks, they crossed over Joy Road and West Chicago. Both main streets led to his job.
He surveyed the area. No students. He lowered his window and heard no clanking, just the horn blaring. Then he swerved around the first gate as needles jabbed in his belly.
"Don't do it," a voice said from a vehicle behind his car.
Brice turned to a dim light and humming noise. Damn the train. Jerking his chest, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. He scraped his driver's door on the second gate. He risked his life over dumb stuff.
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