BE COOL Essay - Fiction.
By Danielle Hubbard
5-14-96
Per. 4
When I walk into my apartment in El Rio, the sound of a gunshot rings in my ears. I sigh as I think, "There goes another gang fight." My sleep is troubled that night. I toss & turn, a sick feeling to my stomach. Why am I so afraid? You ask. I'm not in a gang. My life was probably not in danger, unless the gang goes on another one of their fierce shooting sprees.
I
was am afraid for my brother.
My brother has been in a gang since he was 12 years old. He is now 18, and I am his 13 year old sister. There were problems at home, like mom leaving, dad beating us, and not getting enough money for food and clothes. I was only 7 when he joined the gang, so I really didn't know what was going on. My dad knew though. Did he try to help my brother, give him more love, find the problem? Nope. He just beat him more. And as my brother got older, he started fighting back.
He didn't fight back directly to my father. He fought back indirectly. Like by graffiti, violence to innocent people, and more. What they did to punish him was fine my father money. This made my father angry, and he took out his anger by violence. It was the only way he knew how.
Then a program called BE COOL started in my classroom. It taught me all about gangs. I now understood why my brother had joined a gang. He wasn't getting enough love at home, so he got love from his homeboys, not caring about the consequences. BE COOL also helped me to see what
really goes on in gangs. That was why I was so afraid. I didn't want my brother to die. And even if he didn't die, he might have to go to jail, or maybe even get the death sentence. Before, when he was a juvenile, my father was always fined because my brother was just committing deliquent acts. But now he was breaking the law, not to mention breaking school rules like cutting class, wearing baggy jeans, & more. He was also still a sophomore at age 18.
I
was am also worried about his drug problem. I had always vowed to stay off drugs forever, seeing what my brother was like when he was high. I won't go into details, but he did not act like the brother I know. I had been offered drugs before, but I always said "no."
Back to the gang fight, I wake up the next morning & look for my brother in his bed. He is laying there, but there is a pool of blood under his back. I gently shake him and he gives a moan of pain. "Brother, we have to get you to the hospital."
"No, no," he answers. "I want to die. I think I killed someone. I can't stand it. I want to die."
"We will get you some help. Dad too. I'll help you. They won't hurt you."
Tears fill my eyes as I run to call an ambulance. If only he had known. If only I had tried to help him. These thoughts are still running through my mind 10 minutes later as they load him onto a stretcher. I hope that it is not too late to save my brother.
