Tyler Peterson was from the rich side of Miami. The cool thing there was for the white kids to be urban, or as they called it gangsta. Tyler and his 11 friends where called the Whoos and their color was blue. He was 16 when his parents lost their entire fortune and had to move out to south- central LA, where his dad had a good job opportunity.

            Tyler always had it rough with kids when he moved to the new school, and soon his parents got their wealth back. When Tyler was 18, his new friends and himself decided it was time to visit the kids in south-central that caused him problems.

            Tyler’s nice Lexus was cruising through the hood whenever he saw some of the guys that caused him problems. His friends had brass knuckles and baseball bats, and that was all Tyler thought he needed. They pulled over and got out.

            “ Yo home boy, remember me ……” and added a racially offensive word. Tyler went to swing at one of the guys, when another pulled out a gun. Tyler’s five friends and he wrestled with the three residential gangsters, trying to take guns away. When two of Tyler’s friends got shot they all ran.

            Tyler was running hard down the block, in front of his friends and was scared to death. He thought it was the end for him and it already was for Jason and Michael. They where the new kids at school, and cousins. They where from south-central, but their parents hit the lottery.

            A shot was fired, and Peter hit the ground. Peter was the kid of the group and was stuck up for by everyone nothing was ever supposed to happen to him. Tyler became even more scarred. He thought of Peter getting picked on and how they stuck up for him.

            But Tyler kept running, harder and harder.

            Another shot was fired and then Jessie hit the ground. Jesse was the coolest kid in the group besides Tyler. Jessie had girls on him and was always up for anything. He was the big, strong, tough one; and had got him out of fights. Who would do it now? It bothered Tyler.

            But Tyler kept running, harder and harder.

            Tyler began thinking of his parents. They had told him time and time again, that one day he would get hurt pretending to be something he wasn’t, but he would never listen. Neither did Paul. Another shot was fired, and then a second one followed. Paul was right behind Tyler and he heard Paul fall. Paul was Tyler’s best friend and had been with him when he was the new kid at the rich school. He was over-weight and could make anyone laugh.

            But Tyler kept running, harder and harder.

            Tyler began crying. He knew he was next. It was always fun to pretend to be a big, bad gangster, but now he was facing death and he wanted out. He was almost to where he could get to cover and run. He heard the other gangsters loading their guns. He wanted to cry for his mother and have his dad make these guys stop, but he was the rebellion. He was almost there and he heard the sound of the gun caulk.

            He stopped and put his hands up. “ Please, don’t shoot.” He screamed sobbing. But the gangsters shot seven more times.

            Tyler didn’t run anymore.