Courageous by Randy Alcorn Page A

dumb and desperate. That’s why I’ve made sure you did your studies and stayed away from the gangs. But I can’t make you anymore. You gotta decide for yourself.”
    “You got that right. That’s what I’m gonna do. Decide for myself.”
    “Derrick, please.” His grandmother reached to touch his shoulders. “Your mama was shanked by a boy in the gang. For what? She had ten dollars on her. He wanted crack. You become part of the GN, and you’re spittin’ on your mother’s grave.”
    “My mama has nothin’ to do with this. I barely even knew her.”
    “You barely knew her because the gang took her from you and me and Keishon! You don’t understand what kind of life you’re playin’ with. Gangbangers become targets; their families become targets. You want me to be a target? You have a girlfriend, she’ll be a target.”
    “They don’t care about you, Gramma.”
    “You’re right about that. The question is, do you care, Derrick? They might kill you. They might even kill for you. But I would die for you. That’s what I been doin’. Except for your uncle Reggie, I’m the only family you’ve got now. You still have a chance, son. A good education will get you a good job; it’ll give you options. Just finish high school and get away to college. There’s no life for you here, Derrick.”
    “They’re my friends, Gramma. I can finish high school without even tryin’. I can still go to college if I want to.”
    “They’re gonna smoke you like a cigarette and throw you on the street and grind you into the ground. That’s what the gangs do.”
    He turned away and walked toward his room.
    Derrick’s gramma wasn’t finished. “Maybe you’d listen if I was a man. God knows, I wish you had a man in this house to tell you what it’s really like. Maybe you don’t think I’m much. I’ve had to be a mother and a father to you, but I just can’t be what I’m not.”
    “I’m goin’ to bed.”
    She stepped toward him and put her hand on his shirt. “Don’t let ’em beat you in, Derrick. I’m losin’ you like I lost your mother and your brother. They gonna take you from me. I see it in your eyes. Please, don’t let them do it.”
    She clutched his sleeve, and he pushed her away hard. Her head hit the wall with a loud thud. She slumped to the floor, a low moan spilling from her lips.
    He walked into his bedroom and slammed the door. He was sick and tired of his gramma, tired of her warnings and her constant yammer.
    She’s an old-head; she don’t know nuthin’.

 
Chapter Nine
    On Saturday morning, Adam drove to Shane’s house. Emily was singing in the backseat as her father pulled his sterling-gray Ford pickup into the driveway.
    Shane held a plastic Walmart bag.
    “What’s in the bag?” Adam asked as Shane got in the truck.
    “It’s a couple Bulldogs T-shirts for Tyler,” Shane said.
    “Let’s see them.”
    “Nah, they’re wrapped. How’s my little girl?”
    “I’m fine, Mr. Shane!” Emily answered.
    The radio was on as they rolled down Westover toward the bank.
    “I beat Daddy in Yahtzee last night,” Emily said.
    “I’ll bet you did.”
    “You were ahead in Yahtzee,” Adam said. “We weren’t able to finish, remember?”
    “You got a phone call. But I was going to beat you!”
    Shane smiled. “I appreciate you driving me around on a few errands. My car should be ready in a couple days.”
    “Not a problem,” Adam said. “Now your shirt, that’s a problem.”
    It was a banana-colored Tommy Bahama knockoff littered with white hibiscus.
    “You don’t like my shirt?”
    “Well, 1985 called. It wants its shirt back.”
    Shane turned around. “Emily, what do you think of my shirt?”
    “I love it!”
    “Your daughter likes my shirt.”
    “My daughter’s nine years old.”
    “Your daughter got half her genes from her mother. That’s her only hope. Tyler thought this shirt was cool, so I got it.”
    “So your twelve-year-old son gives you fashion