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This is weird

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This is weird.

This is the second time that I've been dressed up like this in the past week.

That's more than I've dressed up in the past year.

This time I'm just wearing a long black silk dress with nude heels. Its nothing special, just something that I found in the back of my mom's closet.

"Our final award of the night is for the division player of the year, also from Beverly High. Spencer James."

Spencer invited me to come to the award ceremony with his mom and Dillon as a type of moral support.

I tried to reassure him and let him know that he would be fine on his own but he wouldn't take no for an answer.

The crowd cheers as Spencer makes his way up to the podium.

Spencer was so reluctant to come to the ceremony tonight but as I watch him standing on the stage with the biggest smile on his face I finally realize it.

Spencer James belongs here.

He belongs in Beverly with these people.

Everyone always knew that he was too good to be stuck in Crenshaw with the rest of us.

He had the power to make a change in the world and that finally hits me as I look at him being praised for just being him.

"Thank you." he says as the crowd lowers their cheering.

"I uh, wrote down a list of names to thank. I want to thank Coach Baker, my team, Jordan Baker my QB, my Mom, my brother Dillon, my friend Carter." he trails off as he looks down at the paper.

I see the internal battle he is having with himself, trying to decide what to do.

He makes eye contact with me and I nod my head in encouragement.

I watch as he folds the paper and puts it in his pocket. "You know, looking down at that list of names reminds me of another list.

"Quintell Dennis. Marcus Heard. Tyson Glover. Jamerrill Maxwell. And Shawn Scott."

My mind flashes with a memory that was long forgotten as he talks.

"Shawn?" A fourteen year old girl with long black hair asks the boy next to her as they sit on the swing set.

"You ain't never heard of them. They never got the chance to stand on no stage and accept an award. And they all lost their lives this year."

The teenage boy turns his head to the beauty that he had been infatuated with since they were five,

"Yeah Car?"

"See when a gang member dies, everybody just shrugs, thinking 'hey, they chose this life, right?' Lets face it. Most of their stories were written the day they were born. They never had the same opportunities."

Collide ↠ Asher AdamsWhere stories live. Discover now