Band Of Seven: They Never Wanted Us To Be Heard

By Denzel Jones

Because of preternatural abilities and racial ambiguity, the world is divided more than ever. People with multiple backgrounds may have rights, but Preternaturals are subject to unjust living conditions. The pursuit for civil rights and unrest are both at an all-time high, especially after a Preternatural child was murde

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bravo Train
• Release date: Feb 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781733945417

Book preview

The Seven

Tiberius ‘Seven’ Turner

Just as he loves to be the star on the field -- and in the halls -- Seven has chosen for his bio to be written first. The 17-year-old star quarterback out of Terrell, Texas, has made quite a name for himself in Harpy Heights. In just under two years at his new high school, he's broken multiple state records -- and hearts. But unlike most, Seven is eager to prove that he can walk his talk. In fact, the reason he said he brags so much is that he wants to prepare everyone for the show. But all of his arrogance can't be helpful, right? It can't be conducive to helping them escape the city, can it?

I love me like this. If I'm not perfect, I'm the closest one to it. – Seven

Cree Washington

Described by Grey as the group's ‘most useful member’, the 17-year-old Amazon is quite skilled with her ability and is arguably the strongest out of the seven. Her penchant for fashion paired with her hard-working attitude will make her dreams of becoming an interior designer come to life. But all her cool traits must come at a price, correct? I mean, if she's already so strong, clever, and bold, how can she be detrimental to the group's success?

If you're going to hurt me you have to dig deep. Or tell me something I haven’t heard. – Cree

Amity Vega

While everyone in the group is already argumentative, Amity is probably the most pugnacious -- one might even say captious. The fiery Latina isn't afraid of Seven or Cree, and she will more than gladly clash with Grey if it means getting her point across. The only thing she excels at more is getting As in school. But what other parts does she play in the group's demise? Arguing over Popular Literature and Sociology class certainly isn't enough to make the wheel shift, right?

I think I should be able to learn about the half of my ancestors who helped build this country in any history class, instead of in just one relegated option, but hey, that’s equality. – Amity

Darrin Davis

Though Darrin is a lean, mean, enraged 17-year-old machine, he's as sincere as they come (and probably the most relatable). ‘The bronze one himself’ may not be a natural born leader, but he does have the group's best interests at heart, despite him not caring for most of them. Will his impatience be to blame for their downfall, or will his inherent conditioning be responsible for them getting caught?

You can only hear something from the people around you so many times before it starts to get in your head. But it’s like nobody understands what I want. They need to just let me be me. – Darrin

Andrea McCarthy

Andrea certainly has all the prerequisites to be the girl next door, but unfortunately, her lies disqualified her from becoming one a long time ago. Despite her secrets, she is still as admirable and sweet as can be. But don't let the brown hair and soft eyes fool you, she is not weak. The brainy brunette is never afraid of the odds, nor does she care for the popular vote. In an epiphanic chapter, Andrea clearly shows that she can see the difference between the minority and the majority. But just what is everyone voting for? And what is keeping Andrea so level-headed?

"We can't just ignore it. Not acknowledging it is the same as saying it doesn’t exist." – Andrea

Grey O’Keefe

Even though Grey regards himself as a social leper, you will have to look beyond his facetious surface. Born with a talent for creating schemes on the fly, the calculating Grey is just applying what he was forced to learn at home to the outside world. Because deep down, just like everyone else in our group, he wants to be accepted. Will Grey continue to be the outcast of this rag-tag team, or will he learn to play nice? Hell, will the other six actually learn to accept him for who he is?

"The new lie is that we’re equal. Before that, we were inferior. None of us are socially equal, and we certainly aren’t biologically equal." – Grey

Rory Matthews

Matthews was born to capture your heart. He's a best friend, a clown, a confidant, and he even kicks the story off. But how? Will one of his jokes finally push Darrin too far? Will Cree finally get tired of his attempts to hit on her? Or will his neurotic disposition cause Seven to lose it?

This place is gonna look like Poland by the middle of next week! – Matthews

First Day Back

Darrin

The car stops.

Okay, get out the car, Darrin. Damn!

I slide across the black leather seats to get out, but my crumpled papers fall out of my book bag and onto the floor. Dany groans from the passenger’s seat right before the barking starts.

Oh my God. Darrin, you are so slow. Hurry up! I swear you’re a damn turtle! My mother slaps the back of my sister’s headrest to get me to move faster. Like I wasn't nervous enough already. I need to light a fire under your ass.

I glance out the windows when she looks away. Alright, there’s people out there, but they’re not paying attention. I hurry up and just grab the papers but I don’t worry about putting them in my bag. Halfway out of the car, I look back to ask her if she has an extra rubber band.

What happened to your other one?

It popped yesterday, I answer back. This is my last one.

Oh, well, that’s your fault. You’ll be alright.

Just like a parent. She asks me questions she already knows the answers to, just so she can give me her already-decided response. I step back to close the door.

And don’t slam my door.

Of course, I don’t, but it sounds like it to her. Hey! I hear her cracked voice holler.

She peels off and I finish the walk to the school from the middle of the street.

At the entrance a security guard is checking IDs. He demands mine, but I ignore him. He’s gotta be new. The other guards don’t care enough to check IDs after the Christmas break. Half the year’s almost over.

Inside, the café’s the same as I left it. Here, we’re not so much grouped into color, but at the same time we are. For the most part, black kids hang with black kids, white kids hang with white kids, Arab with Arab, and so on. And then you throw in the Preternaturals, the kids with abilities. While one kid could have a benign ability like a photographic memory, another could possess something more high-risk, like being able to turn liquids to an acid with a touch. It varies. But those type of people can be in any group, regardless of religion or color; it just depends on if others will accept them because of it. Personally, I don’t think color is much of a problem these days; you stick to what you know. But it’s 2050—you can’t even guess what a third of the population is anyway.

I spot my best friend Rory Matthews waving at me from the far middle of the café. Rory's skinny. Skinnier than me and a few inches shorter with light brown skin. People have a thing for making fun of his head. They always say that it’s smaller than it should be. I'm perfectly late, too. Because the moment he cups his hands and shouts for me, the bell rings.

Rory actually could shout over it, but he forgets what he can do sometimes. Like when he forgot and let the entire auditorium know that me and Amity broke up. It was something, considering there’s about five thousand students in the school.

I head to homeroom instead of catching up with him. I mean, I usually wouldn't care about being late (especially to a class I don't get a grade for), but after this morning I don't feel like hearing Mr. Davis complain. My homeroom is the band room, so instead of chairs, we sit on burgundy carpet-covered steps. We’re surrounded by locked-up trumpets, out-of-tune pianos, and worn-out drums. Sometimes when we come in, the band’s still practicing, as if second period didn’t end six minutes ago.

The bell rings, so what usually feels like the longest fifteen minutes of the day, just breezes by. I wish the rest of the day would do the same, but it usually goes south after lunch. On my way to my locker, some idiot bumps into me. I guess in a school of so many, people temporarily lose their damn minds. I bang on the overhead locker above mine and I know I’ll get his attention. Unfortunately, the locker caving in also gets noticed by Ms. White, the Vice-Principal. Damn it.

Will you please just use it? It’s on your wrist for a reason, Ms. White moans.

Ironically, I’m using it now because I have to sit in her office for a lecture. I pull back the rubber band and let it pop my wrist so I can feel the irritation. I repeatedly do it for the distraction. Ms. White’s not that bad, but if I really wanted to control myself, I would’ve used it when the boy shoved me.

Sometimes they pop. I rush the words out.

Then come here. I don’t mind giving you any. Take as many as you need. Ms. White sounds concerned. She unties her long, silky ponytail and throws her rubber band at my chest. I raise an eyebrow. Then she reaches for her pen cup and dumps out a bunch onto my lap, and I bust out laughing.

Okay, okay. I get it, Ms. White.

Now, you know you'll have to sit in detention for the rest of the day, right?

Of course.

The last bell rings and I push open the front entrance doors with as much force as possible. Rory’s waiting over by the steps near the parking lot.

Oh, God. I didn’t notice the Amazon towering over him. She’s really, really pretty and slim. She has blondish-brown, curly, big hair that stops at her shoulders. She’s got fine cheekbones, full lips, thin eyebrows, and glowing, light caramel skin. And she’s got tattoos of pyramids, stars, and clouds on her collar bone that stretches over to her shoulder blade. There’s only one problem with her.

Cree

I’m too tall, so I jump down a few steps so me and Matthews can be eye-to-eye.

You think you can do me a favor? I say in the most captivating voice possible.

And that is? Matthews responds weakly while his eyes follow my finger along his cheek. I hang my blood-orange tote bag on the curved, rusty white rail.

I want you to ask Darrin a question for me.

S-sure, Rory stammers.

My eyes lock on his. He’s so, ugh. I mean he’s attractive, in a starved plantation worker sort of way.

I want you to find out who he’s going to the prom with.

Why don’t you ask him yourself?

I’m getting tired of paying my gym membership every month. My finger traces slowly along the lining of my bra. It's quite visible under my sweater. A workout buddy might be more beneficial.

He buckles. Think maybe I can get that in writing?

When I smile, his brown eyes light up, but before I can get any more words in, the bronze one himself arrives, so I turn around to greet him. Darrin’s usually a smart ass. He’ll entertain me.

What's going on? Darrin asks.

Nothing much. I was thinking… I don’t even get the chance to finish the sentence. He starts down the stairs, and his lackey follows. You know, all this sexual tension between us—

Nail me to the goalpost, Cree.

I watch them go until they disappear up the street and just like that, my fun is over. I snatch my bag from the rail. I'll have to wait for Andrea inside.

On my way back in, I notice Alex is standing a few feet away from the principal’s office. He sticks his arm out to the side to block me. Security is gone.

Alex is good-looking. Peruvian. Long-haired. Always dressed to impress.

I smirk. So, is there a reason you felt compelled to risk your arm today?

My last day. I was feeling brave. He half smiles.

Where ya going? As if I really care.

Louisiana.

The Big Easy. Going to Mardi Gras? Going to take off a few tops? I tilt my head.

The only light coming in is passing through a small space in between the curtains. Alex pulled me inside the nearest place, the ticket booth in the hall that I made in Set Design. It’s posted right near the security desk, too, near the front entrance. I decided I’d give him a shot and it was worth it. He’s kissing me as fast and rough as he can, and actually, it’s turning me on. I have him pinned against the side, and I’m five-eleven, so I’m towering over him by some inches. I’m uncomfortable, so I stomp, and a pillar of ground and tile rises beneath his butt. Now he’s leveled.

He moves to my neck, and just like that, I’m bored. He’s sucking on my neck like it’s a pork chop. As I roll my eyes, through the opening in the curtains I notice my salvation passing through the hallway.

Andrea! I call out to her.

I back away from Alex’s suction-cup mouth, pick up my bag, and stomp again to sit him on the floor. I leave him with the words, Might wanna work on that down south.

I dash out of the opening.

Could you possibly take any longer? I ask as I catch up with her.

She laughs at me. She’s used to my impatience. Excuse me for having class.

Yeah, yeah. Can we go now?

In a few minutes, she says.

Ask your teacher if you can go early, I whine. Go use some of that girl-next-door magic.

Mr. Nelson isn’t that type.

What teacher isn’t? I argue. They’re all just dirty old men with Beijing beards and square-toed shoes. Besides, with that long brown hair down your face— I dance around her. Your white smile, that lone dimple in your cheek, and that petite frame— I smack her butt, and she squeals along to her classroom. She's my all-American girl.

I wait outside the front of the school and I drink from my tall green can of iced tea. But not long after the bell rings and Andrea springs from the front doors. Finally.

I huff.

You have to learn to be patient, Mother Earth. How do you deal with indecisive customers? She asks.

I scan the streets, wondering where the hell I parked. If I wasn’t afraid of getting another write-up, I’d let you know.

She spots my burgundy Skyliner and leads me to it.

I’ve had it for almost a year now, but I act as if it’s fresh off the lot. I could never not be proud of it. At night, the outer edges and linings glow into any one of the three colors I choose, which is so graphic on a Summer night. It has glider wings that automatically extend from the rockers whenever I’m mid-air, that way I float down in a smooth descent. And that’s fun whenever I can persuade Andrea to take a drive up the mountains with me. You’d think I would’ve mastered amphi-driving by now, what with a 2045 model being more adaptable, but I still suck. That’s why I didn’t buy the Toad. It’s a good thing that driving over water wasn’t a part of the road test.

I tell her that I may be getting a promotion, and she asks me how I know. I’ve been at Shanel’s since freshman year. They need to give me something besides these freaking bags under my eyes. Plus, my boss told me.

Well, congratulations in advance. She bows. And in addition to your much-deserved elation, how would you like to support the general population in letting the world know that all Preternaturals are natural? She sends a big smile my way.

The rally downtown tomorrow?

We hop in but Andrea doesn’t let me pull off just yet. It’s chance to speak out against police brutality, racial profiling, and take a stand for something much bigger than yourself.

"I have