“Hand out the uniforms and give the students some practice time,” Brice said, hauling the box up to the door. Qadira followed. This would do her good and the students, giving her a chance to influence trouble kids to do better by presenting her positive image.
“I can do it,” Qadira said, dragging the box to the gymnasium. She passed two rooms on each side of the hallway.
“Take care, Qadira.” Brice headed back to his car, eyeing Qadira's Samsonite. He took it out the car and place it on the concrete. Shawn was sliding a vivacious knife in a leather carrying case when Brice dropped down in the driver seat. “Put it way,” He started the car. Shawn slid his weapon under his uniform sleeve of his stump. “Do what I say Shawn.”
Shawn turned the volume up on the radio. Brice drove passed the post office turning down the street right after the railroad track. The street was emptied; no students had arrived home. Yet Arcadio's neighbors had their doors opened with a few of the neighbors gathered on their porches. Two of them glared at Brice parking near an open field.
“We’ll crossed between the houses facing Arcadio’s house,” Brice said, exiting the car.
“I’m coming,” Shawn said.
Brice and Shawn hid on the side of the brick house across from Arcadio' house. Fight the powers that be. The rap music carried out through the windows. Arcadio’s house were similar to the rest except for the steel front door. Brice grabbed Shawn’s shoulder, nodding. There was no turning back.
Arcadio sped into the driveway. The guy from the passenger's side jump out. "I'm going to my hide out," Arcadio yelled, crossing over his front yard. The figure from the passenger's side disappeared.
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