I hear gunshots and screeching wheels.
"Eric was shot! Eric was shot!"
"Don't play with me," I said. He is shot, he is my closest friend, and this is where the story begins. This is Oakland, the place I was born and raised, a city where I hear gunshots and police sirens almost every night.
I wake up in my dark room and turn on the TV. The glowing light helps me to see where I'm going. On the TV, I see another murder story. It's time for me to make a change; to stop the violence by picking up a pencil instead of a pistol, to grab a backpack instead of a colored bandana. I'll start dressing formally instead of sagging my pants. This is what my friend would want.