Take A Stand

By Brandon Simmons

Mike and his friends live in Raceford, Connecticut, a town where racism is alive and well. As they get older, life becomes more difficult for the guys as they are continuously harassed by policemen and citizens of Raceford every day. To survive, someone has to do something. Are Mike and his friends willing to risk their lives for change?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandon Simmons
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370240210

Brandon Simmons

Just trying to write a few stories and give people something to think about.

Book preview

TAKE A STAND

Brandon Simmons

Copyright © 2018 Brandon Simmons

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 1

Uh-oh, it’s almost that time again. It seems like we go through this all the time. We are all walking home from the game when we see police keep passing by us. When the police pass us, there’s usually nothing good coming next. This means that the streetlights are about to come on. Once the streetlights come on, that’s our curfew. When I say our, I mean the black kids. We all watch as the white policemen slowly drive by us in their black and white SUVs, with K-9s in the back barking like they are ready to eat.

As the cop drives by the third time, I stop and look up at the street light and say, Man, we out. We need to get home.

Isiah says, Yeah, the lights are flickering now. It seems like they keep coming on earlier.

We all start to run like we are being chased by the Ku Klux Klan. Patrick yells, Fuck the Boys!

Scottie says, Yeah alright, I bet you won’t say that when they come back around.

Patrick asks, How much you want to bet?

Charles says the same thing I was going to say. I’ll take parts in that!

Scottie says, $50 says you’ll put your head down and sprint when you hear them coming.

Isiah yells, Facts!

We are all laughing and running like we are being hunted for dinner.

I say, This shit is wack, we do this all the time.

Charles says, "I told y’all we should leave a little earlier because y’all know how it is.

Y’all don’t want to listen to me though."

We are all silent because he is right. Charles is usually right most of the time.

Patrick says, We all know who to blame though.

I ask, Who?

Isiah yells, Scottie!

Patrick says, You know he was trying to stay later to talk to Lisa, her tall ass.

Scottie says, For sure, but have you seen her ass? Literally!

Isiah yells, Wagon!

Charles and I yell simultaneously, Facts!

Out of our crew, Patrick and I are the younger ones. We’re both 14 years old, but I’m two months older. Scottie, Charles, and Isiah are 15. We have all known each other since we were kids at Mrs. Darcy’s daycare, and we have been close ever since.

We’re still laughing as we race home. We probably all look like animals. Isiah and I go home together since he’s my next-door neighbor. I have to keep up with him since he’s a speedy little guy. This is the third time this week we lost track of time. To a surprise they haven’t stopped us. I’m starting to get use to running from the cops to beat the curfew. I’m not scared anymore. I just don’t want any issues with the pigs.

After dapping each other up, Isiah and I break off from the rest of the squad and run towards our houses. Isiah’s house is the sixth house on the left and my house is right next to his. On our street, Isiah’s phone slips out of his pocket and shatters on the ground. The streetlight lights up at the same time. Sirens start to ring out and I can see blue and red headlights speeding towards us. Luck is running out. The cops slam their brakes in front of us and jump out of the black and white SUV. The K-9 in the back sounds like he is still hungry.

The cop driving walks over to us and says, I know you kids know when the streetlights come on. And I know the thought of having a curfew sounds terrible, but we can’t have all of you knuckleheads running the streets. All the kids in this city have curfew and it’s my job to enforce it. Like I said, I know curfew sounds terrible, but I’ll tell you, it’s a lot better than being on my shit list. You don’t want to be on my shit list. You break curfew, I’m the one who has write it up. I’m the one who has to report it to the boss. And I’m the one who has to explain why the curfew isn’t working. All that does is puts me in a bad mood.

As soon as Isiah coughs, the cop makes a look as if Isiah just spit in his face.

He asked, You scoffin’ at me?

Isiah didn’t say anything and just looked at the ground.

The cop asks, Did you not hear me? I asked were you scoffin at me.

Isiah says, You mean I coughed. Not scoffed.

The cop chuckles and looks at his partner who was also laughing. Next thing you know, I see Isiah’s little legs in the air and then in a split second his body against the cop car. The K-9 is barking louder than ever. At this point Isiah is looking like dinner. I see tears running down his eyes. I take a step towards the cop and his partner takes a step towards me.

I yell, Chill, let him go! He didn’t do anything!

The cop looks back at me and drops Isiah to the ground. He walks over to me.

He says, Excuse me?

I say, He didn’t do anything. You didn’t have to do that.

He says, I didn’t have to do that? Just who do you think-you know what. I got something for you two. Kevin, let’s take these two around the corner and teach them a thing or two about rules and respect.

As soon as they grab us to put us in the car, the police radio goes off.

Dispatcher says, We have a drunk and disorderly conduct over on East Broad St. Need you to respond. Over.

The cop says, Christ! Forget these little shits, we must go. It must be your lucky day, Mr. Rogers once again just ruined our party. I don’t want to see you two out at this time again.

They get in their cars and race down the street. Fear overcame Isiah like he was in the presence of Michael Myers. I know I could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble speaking up for Isiah, but I feel bad for him. Most people don’t do what I just did. I’ve known Isiah all my life, he can’t really defend himself. He’s always been a scary kid.

I think in this town around our age is when interactions with the Boys’ get worse. That’s what the older kids always say growing up. They talk to us like we’re nothing and if you speak up, it can get ugly. Luckily, Mr. Rogers was drunk or else Isiah and I would be in the hospital if not dead.

I remember walking in the center of town one day and something just felt weird. People were just scolding me left and right. I thought I had something on my face or my clothes were inside out. After checking myself I was