The Bible club was having a Halloween party. Dwayne tightened his grip on the steering wheel. A Halloween party? He narrowed his eyes. Halloween parties weren’t for high school kids. They were for babies. If Billy thought he was soft before, he’d never let Dwayne live it down if he hung out at a Halloween party.
Up ahead was the alley where they were meeting this year. The two gangs always picked an alley. So they could hide in doorways and keep away from the cops. Dwayne slowed his car. Gotta hide anything that might identify him. He leaned down and tucked his wallet beneath his seat. Then he slid his phone into his jeans pocket. Rules were simple on Halloween.
Each man for himself. No guns.
Usually his gang won. More guys, more of them on the football team. Fists would fly and threats would be made, but after ten minutes or so the other guys would back off. At least that’s how it went last year.
Suddenly Dwayne remembered the year before last. When he was a freshman. Someone broke the rule and in the middle of the fight, at the worst of it, a gun went off.
And Jimmy Salvo lay in the alley bleeding. He died before he knew what hit him.
Dwayne parked his car and the voice came again. Like someone was sitting in the seat next to him talking to him.
Run! Don’t do this! I have plans for you, My son.
What in the world? It was like the Bible verse from the other day had come to life here in his car. What was it again? Jeremiah something. All about God having good plans for him. Dwayne nodded to himself. He believed that. One day when he was grown up and out of Hamilton, one day when he moved far away from the gangs and the streets, good things were going to happen.
He believed God on that.
But for now . . . for now he had to take care of business. And if a few of his blows landed on Billy Benson, so be it. Anything could happen in a Halloween fight.
Dwayne waited till ten o’clock sharp. Then he slipped out of his brother’s car. It was pitch-dark outside, cloudy. No moon or stars overhead. He raised the hood on his sweatshirt and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. All down the street he watched gang members do the same thing.
Soon as the police found out, they’d break things up. The fight wouldn’t last long. He moved fast, his body smooth and athletic. A couple colleges were looking at him now. After today, after he proved he wasn’t soft, Dwayne would get serious. The Bible club was good for him. Jesus was, too.
He met up with eight of his guys and together they turned the corner. That’s when Dwayne saw them. Their rivals were coming, filling the alley. Walking closer. “This is it!” one of them shouted. “Halloween fight!”
“You oughta run while you can!” one of Dwayne’s boys yelled back.
Dwayne’s heart sped up. His blood rushed through his body. No one was going to call him soft. He pushed his sweatshirt sleeves up, but before he could take a swing, before he could land his fist against the face of the guy rushing at him, there was a popping sound.
Just a single pop.
At first Dwayne wasn’t sure what it was or where the sound came from, but then—in a single second—he felt it. Sharp pain in his chest and something hot. He looked down and saw the blood just as his knees buckled.
What had happened? Someone had shot at him and the fight hadn’t even—
“No guns!” The voice was Billy Benson’s. Dwayne could tell. “The rule is no guns, man! Someone call 9-1-1!”
Dwayne was on the ground now, sprawled out. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs, but he could feel. The aching pain in his chest, the way his sweatshirt was wetter now. Soaking wet.
“Dwayne, buddy . . . talk to me.” In all their high school days together, all their nights cruising with the gang, Dwayne had never dreamed he’d see this.
Billy Benson was scared.
His eyes were wide and his face was white as paper. He was saying something, screaming at the guys to call . . . call someone. Dwayne wasn’t sure. Couldn’t hear the noise anymore. Billy’s voice, the other guys. People running out of the alley.
He couldn’t hear any of it.
And suddenly a woman police officer knelt on his other side. “Dwayne, can you hear me?”
“Yes.” Everything else was dim now. No sound at all. But he could hear the woman beside him. She didn’t look like a normal person. Her eyes were too bright. Dwayne looked at her badge.
ASPYN.
Dwayne’s eyes were heavy. The effort it took to play fourth-quarter football was nothing to what it took to keep them open now. He looked at the woman. “I’m . . . shot.”
“You’re going to be okay, Dwayne.” She squeezed his hand. “God is with you.”
God. Dwayne felt regret like a fire through his body. “I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t listen.” The policewoman took his hand. Peace washed over him, peace like he’d never known before. Dwayne took a final look at Aspyn, and then he closed his eyes. “My friends . . . are wrong . . . about you police.”
“It’s okay, Dwayne.” Aspyn’s voice was soothing in a way Dwayne had never heard before. She stayed there, very near his face. “Relax, child. God has you.”
“You . . . you only . . . care. Right now.” Dwayne’s eyes were closed but he could see clearly now. Most police officers only wanted to help. The way God had tried to help him.
“God loves you, Dwayne.” Aspyn was still holding his hand. With her other one, she touched her fingers to Dwayne’s forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”
Dwayne wanted to say something. His body was letting go. He felt lighter than before. The pain fading. “God . . . God warned me . . . He told me to go home.” The words in his head were slow now. He couldn’t think right. And there, with the world fading around him, Dwayne remembered Principal Quinn’s words. He could see the man. His smile and warm eyes. With Jesus, you never die.
But Dwayne was dying. He could feel the life leaving his body. He should’ve listened. Should’ve stayed at school. Dwayne’s words were barely a whisper. “Is it true? With Jesus, you never die?” He had seconds left, no more.
“Yes, Dwayne.” Aspyn’s voice covered him in warmth and peace.
Dwayne tried to breathe, but he couldn’t make his lungs work. What else was it? What had Principal Quinn said? Dwayne’s mind was spinning now. Something about his story.
Yeah, that was it.
With Jesus as the Hero, your story just moves from here to heaven. No more tears, no more dying. Just like the Bible said.
Dwayne struggled to take another breath. Aspyn was right. Dwayne was going to be okay. God had not wanted things to end this way. Here in the alley.
He was just a high school junior.
No telling what his life might have been like here on earth. The plans God would’ve had for him. This wasn’t even where he was supposed to be tonight. But as he drew his last breath, Dwayne smiled. Aspyn’s words washed over him.
You’re going to be okay, Dwayne. God is with you.
It was true because Jesus was the Hero of his story. And tonight, any second now, Jesus was going to rescue him and Dwayne would take his next breath in heaven. With Jesus. Light washed over him, and Dwayne let himself go toward it. God was calling him home now. Dwayne smiled. Home to heaven.
Where his story would never end.
16
It was just after two o’clock in the morning when Wendell Quinn got the call. At first he thought it might be James Black, calling to tell him he was fired. But that wasn’t rational.
Not long after he’d threatened to fire Wendell, James Black had called again and promised Wendell could keep his job through the trial. The school district didn’t want to draw attention to itself in the midst of the court proceedings. No, it wasn’t James Black.
But as Wendell answered the phone, he couldn’t make out what the man on the other end was saying. Something about a gang and wanting him to know before school in the morning. Only after a full minute did Wendell understand what had happened.
Dwayne Brown was dead.
The news knocked the wind from him. Long after he hung up the phone, Wendell sat straight up in his bed. How could this happen? Dwayne was like one of his own kids. For two months he’d been attending Raise the Bar. He’d even been baptized. Wendell felt sick, his head spinning.