Homecoming night

Homecoming Night

Franklin Fierce Jr. was always the kid that wanted to make a good first impression. It was a desire etched into his character by his father from an early age. The elder Fierce constantly reminded his son to shake hands with a firm grip, look people in the eyes, speak up and be heard, and great people with a healthy hello. Always make a good first impression.

Franklin made a first impression on his high school football coach; and it was a good one. As a freshman, an undersized kid to say the least, Franklin rushed through players larger and sometimes stronger than him. He had speed, desire, flash, and power that no player his size should posses. At less than 5 feet tall, and under 100 lbs., he was a crusher. On one of his first carries in practice, he ran right through a large defender. Sounds from the violent collision ruptured through the air like thunder. The larger boy crumbled to the ground. Franklin, visibly shaken, stumbled on through the drill. The other guy ended up in emergency with broken ribs. And this was only the beginning. Throughout his high school football career he continued to impress coaches, players, and the press. If only he had the same desire to impress teachers with his academics.

On a typically cold Seattle evening, Franklin watched the special teams return the kick off to midfield. He was amped, heart racing but calm and focused. The roaring student body attending the homecoming game was little more than a whisper in his ear. Only his coaches’ voices rang clear, along with those of his equally charged up teammates. The first string offense made their way to the field.

They huddled, he listed to the calm voice of the QB, and the break of the huddle. The play was for his number. Draw right up the middle out of a single back formation. A challenge Franklin loved.

At the snap of the ball, Franklin Fierce Jr hesitated, and then busted a run right up the middle of the line. Violent collision after collision came and he pressed on. With thunderous speed and power, he blew 50 yards down field, into the end zone.

He and teammates made their way to the sidelines and were congratulated by coaches and players alike. He took his familiar seat on the bench, next to Mario Cordona his longtime friend.

“Nice run brother,” said Mario.
“Great block,” Franklin returned.

The two had been going to school and playing football together since 3rd grade. Mario, a pudgy Italian kid, was raised by a widowed mother and owner of a popular and successful bakery not far from the family home in the Rainer Valley. Franklin grew up in an apartment not far away. The Cordona family was always nice, and welcomed him to their home and business. In fact, Franklin Fierce Jr. knew that bakery like the back of his own hand.

“No way buddy,” Mario continued. “It’s all about you. I think your girl likes what you are doing too.” He laughed and looked over his shoulder.

Franklin laughed but didn’t look into the stands. Determined to remain focused on the game, he refused to allow a glance and Lisa Kim, his date for the Homecoming dance later that evening.

Lisa Kim. She was a petite transfer student from the east side of the lake. A very charming and warm personality packed into an attractive frame; she had many suitors the from the first moment that she stepped on to the school grounds. Boys stepped to her with their strongest game, but she had eyes for one boy, the moment she saw him, Franklin Fierce.

The pair talked at school and texted into the late hours of the night. They attended parties together, but had not had a serious date yet. The strict private school rules against public displays of affection kept them from displaying too much attention at school. But, the change in their young relationship was set in motion the second Franklin asked Lisa to the homecoming dance. They both anticipated the events of tonight.

At any given high school football game, in any given city around the United States of America, there are professionals in the stands. Their jobs are to spot talent. It doesn’t matter if the pro is from a big college, small college, press, agent, whatever. Their job on that night is to spot talent. At the Seattle Prep High School Homecoming game, Eric Chauncey Jones sat in attendance, scouting his newest talent.

“So that’s your boy.” He took a sip of bottled water and watched Franklin Fierce’s every move. He liked the power in his runs, the swagger in his step, and his leadership on the field. People flocked to Fierce; you could see that his team would go to war for him. Lineman and receivers alike put something extra in their blocks helping their leader fight for any additional inch.

“That’s right,” said Pete. “That’s my boy.”
“How did a knuckleheaded crook like you get so tight with a star like him,” laughed Jones.
“Criminal? Come on E.C. I have never been convicted of any crime.”
The elder man laughed. “True, but give it time son. You stay in this long enough, and you will do some time.”

Peter nodded. He had heard such statements before. But like all youth, he was clouded with the mindset that he was untouchable. No, invincible. He had been committing crimes since he was 6 yrs old. It started with the five finger discount at local 7-11’s. Then it was jumping people on the street. And this is how he met Eric Chauncey Jones.

Peter, at the age of 12, was doing one of his favorite gigs on a mid week night. When he should have been at home studying his school work, he was sitting on the corner of Rainer and Henderson. Loitering like the other kids and young adults at the infamous bus stop. The stop, where it all went down; prostitution, hustling, and drug dealing. Pete sat on the curb, eyes focused across the street at the county library. He had studied a quiet dark skinned kid who every day used the library as his safe study place. But he wasn’t safe. The poor kid had no clue that there was a predator in the mist, watching patiently for a chance to strike. And when the strike came, the poor kid didn’t know what hit him.

Just after 9:00 the library closed, and the few patrons left. The young kid took his regular route home. Although his apartment was only 50 yards away, and on the same side of the street as the bus stop, the young man walked along the backside of the library in order to avoid the nonsense. I nice idea, but Peter had studied him, and overtook him at the narrowest part of the alley right before his crossing point. The beating was so quick, yet severe. Poor kid ended up in intensive care with a concussion and broken ribs. He was striped nearly naked. His Air Jordan’s, gone, money gone. Troop Jacket gone. The vicious Peter “Pookey" Martin got it all.

What Pookey didn’t know was that he was being scouted by a predator as well. Eric Chauncey Jones, AKA Emerald City Jones, had been watching the lean kid for weeks. He liked his talent, and the robbery and beating impressed Emerald City. He approached, and ultimately recruited Peter into his organization.

“Franklin can run. The boy has heart too,” said Peter. “Don’t let all this fool you E.C.” Franklin waived his hands to the stands, the money and prestige following the private school program.

“You can take the boy out of the hood,” said Emerald City Jones. “But you can’t take the hood out of the boy.”

A lot of girls were attracted to Seattle Preps’ athletes for the prestige of being with a star. The teams always won Seattle City Championships, and went deep into the Washington State Tournaments. In fact, the football team had won 7 straight state titles and was always ranked in the top 15 of the country. A shallow girl could make a name for herself, among other shallow members of the student body, even by dating the ugliest of athletes; as long as he was a starter on one of the big three teams. Athletes threw and attended the best parties, and they were the kings of the high school scene.

Lisa Kim was different. She was a popular studious young lady. She got along with most cliques, but didn’t belong to any of them. She was a truly independent lady, a trait she learned from her mother. She gave and wanted respect from her peers and didn’t force her opinion on anyone.
An attractive girl with spirit, she could have any number of boys at the school if she wanted, and she played the part right. But that was not within her persona. There was never a front put on for anyone. Playboys and perpetrators alike had no chance, if they didn’t approach her in a respectful and real way. While most boys spoke to her chest, Franklin Fierce always looked her in her eyes. Thus, she found him very attractive. It had less to do with his football skills, and more to do with his character.

She enjoyed walking the halls with him. He was clever and witty, but never made jokes to demean others. He was always helping teammate and non teammate alike. He was as soft hearted individual. But Lisa also noticed a darker side too. Franklin was quick to light into anyone that crossed or disrespected him. And his tirades would be filled with the most aggressive and vulgar language. Lisa never saw him punch anyone, but she had heard rumors. Another thing she noticed; Franklin Fierce was also just as comfortable with the shadier kids at the school. It was almost as if he belonged with them.
Lisa stood in the gymnasium sipping punch and waiting for her date to arrive. The dance was in full swing; kids swinging to hip hop beats, taking pictures, and genuinely having a great time. This Homecoming was different than any of the other schools she had attended. The dress code was casual. Like her date, many of the student body came from lower middle class homes. The administration didn’t want anyone to be excluded from enjoying school functions due to lack of resources. Now, there were plenty of kids dressed in the most expensive of formal wear. But Franklin wouldn’t be one of them. So neither would his date. Although she came from a family of means, Lisa would dress to match her date. Even if her mother felt it would ruin her dance pictures.

Franklin arrived and he looked great to his date. Dressed in a nice shirt and jacket, and a pair of clean jeans that were not too tight or too baggy. Casual shoes squeaked across the gym floor as he made his way to her.
“Thank you,” said Lisa as he pinned a corsage on her dress.

The couple enjoyed each other’s company for hours. The danced and talked. Lost to the world, there total focus was on the evening and the date. Franklin learned about her parents, immigrants from Seoul and the hardships they endured as business owners. They had worked hard to provide a nice safe life for their only child, filled with opportunities and chances to succeed in life. It was a fun filled night that both wished would never end, and one that they both would remember forever. And, it ended at the front door of Lisa Kim’s home.

Franklin led her from his car and slowly walked her to the front door. Anticipation gripped them both like steel vice. Weeks of flirting and friendship had led to this moment; a goodnight kiss. The first and last time their young lips would touch.

Less than 30 minutes after leaving his date, Franklin Fierce was sat on the hood of his car. He waited in the cold night patiently. An older model sedan pulled up to him, and Franklin quickly jumped in.
“What’s up,” said Peter. “You ready?”
Franklin nodded.

An early morning rain started to fall over the Puget Sound. Peter drove the car from Bellevue, across the I 90 bridge and into Seattle, The Portal to the Pacific. The exited the freeway, and headed south on Rainer and headed toward the valley.
Franklin did as they rehearsed. He retrieved the 40 oz of a malt liquor from a box in the back seat when they were about 5 minutes from their destination. The football star breathed deep, trying to relax his nerves. This was his chance to show Peter and E C Jones that he, Franklin Fierce, belonged on the team. He was tired of the college rejections, the harassment by police and thugs alike, and the constant belittling he received from student body and press. Franklin, in his own mind, was doomed to failure. He could play, but he didn’t have the grades, and didn’t really want them. He saw two choices in life, two roads to drive. One, a road of poverty and slaving away in meaningless under paying jobs, for the rest of his life. The second was a road filled with excitement, and street glory. He could work for Jones, earn his stripes and live a ghetto fabulous life. Franklin took the second road.

The first job, an easy job, was that of tax collector. Emerald City Jones made a hefty income by harassing local business owners, especially the week, and those from other countries. It was simple, pay a fee to Jones, or suffer the damages. Most bowed down under the evil thumb, but there was one shop owner, a small Italian widow, that would occasionally step out of the box and not pay. The owner of the bakery was even starting to rally the other business owners against Jones. The shop must burn, and this is was Franklin Fierce’s first job.

The sedan rolled to a stop at an intersection few yards from the bakery. The streets were empty, and Peter gave Franklin the signal. Franklin darted from the car. The 40oz now contained a rag stuffed into the top. He lit it, and made his way to the shop. Peter, with sledgehammer in hand, made his way to the window, and with a powerful strike shattered it to pieces. Franklin finished the deed by tossing the cocktail into the window. The made haste back to the car and sped off just as an explosion engulfed the shop in flames. Success.

But success was short lived. A Seattle Police Department cruiser got on them, due to the speeding. In a panic, Peter punched the gas and the chase was on. Chaos! Franklin and Peter screamed at each other, and as the chase grew longer, other cruisers joined. On a twisty section of Rainier Ave, just entering Renton, Peter lost control and the car left the road, and rolled twice before coming to a stop in an intersection.

Franklin was injured but still able to move. He freed himself from the car. Peter lay motionless, bleeding from his eyes and nose. Fierce figured he was dead. Franklin tried to run, ignoring the commands from dozens of officers, who by now had word that this car may have been involved in arson less than 10 minutes ago. Franklin made a wrong move, a threat to an officer. The football genius turned criminal was shot down in a hail of bullets. Franklin Fierce took his last breath on a cold rainy Puget Sound night. Homecoming night.