Chapter 2

His stomach grew nervous as he passed the Compton City Limit sign. He held his breath as he made the turn that would take him to the road to Terry's house. Bam had been to Compton a few times before, but every time made him more nervous than before.

"There he is." Bam spoke to no body as he saw Terry in the window.

He crept his car into the drive way and slowly got out of it, looking around with shifty eyes. Then he reluctantly made his way up the driveway towards the house. Terry met Bam before he even reached the porch. They greeted each other by shaking hands and began talking.

Nearby the sound of a speeding car was heard coming in their direction. Terry looked up with wide eyes once he saw the approaching vehicle.

"Bam! Get yo' ass down now!" He shouted

A few shots were fired from a hand gun. Terry pushed the terrified Bam to the ground, and held him there until the firing ended and the car drove away. When Terry rolled off of Bam, he stood up and looked down the road in the direction of the car.

"Man I don' know what thems foos beef was. You ok?"

"Terry… I'm hurt pretty bad."

Terry looked down at Bam, then at his arm that was once around Bam. There was blood on both. Terry bent down beside Bam and checked him out. There was a bullet hole in Bam's shirt, and blood oozed out from beneath it.

"Bam I meant to push you out of the way. I…"

"Terry what happened?"

Bam sat up in the hospital bed, with his parents seated on either side of him. The doctor stood just at the foot of the bed, reading the charts in his hands. The doctor flipped the pages of the charts down and looked up at Bam. Bam knew that he was saying something to him, but he just couldn't focus on the words. The doctor might as well have been speaking in tongues, because Bam wasn't hearing any of it. He looked down at his legs and tried to block out the pain in his back that the pain killers didn't take care of.

He knew that he shouldn't have gone into Compton, but he just had to have Compton Ass Terry on the show. Now he was stuck in a hospital bed after receiving a bullet in his lower back. He glanced up toward the doctor to see if he was finished blah-blahing about infections or however long he had to stay in the hospital or old Shirley Temple movies, or whatever the hell he was going on about. None of it mattered much to him, because at that moment he just wanted to be left alone so he could get some sleep. Maybe sleep would allow him to forget everything for a while.

The doctor gave him a nod and then turned out of the room. Bam looked at his parents and faked a grin as best as he could.

"Bam isn't that good news?" Asked his mom

"Um… yeah…. Yeah I guess." He answered, trying to figure out what this good news possibly could have been. He thought for a second that maybe he should have been listening to the doctor.

Phil patted him on the shoulder "Looks like you'll be out of here in no time, kiddo. You've always been one to recover fast from your injuries."

"Yeah… looks like I can survive just about anything, even getting shot in the back."

"You're just lucky that the bullet didn't hit your spine." April chimed in "But the doctor did say that the bullet was in an iffy spot, so you still should be careful."

"Ape he'll be fine."

"I know. So sweetie, would you like us to stick around a little longer, or should we leave?"

"Actually I'm kind of tired and I want to get some sleep now."

"Ok then," She gave him a kiss on the forehead "We'll leave you alone."

"We'll be by to see you tomorrow, ok?"

"Yeah."

Bam watched as his parents left the room. After the door was closed, he looked down at his legs. There was one thing that he actually heard the doctor say to him. He was told before his parents got there that, even though the bullet didn't hit his spine, it was still really close to it. There was, however, some bruising and swelling on the spine, which may have been caused b y the bullet winging past it. This news was something that Bam didn't want to hear, which was why he blocked out everything else that the doctor was saying, in fear that he would tell him something much worse.

He ran his hands over the top of his legs and frowned. He didn't want to tell his parents about the bruising and swelling. He didn't want to tell them what he was told the bruising or swelling could cause. He didn't want to tell them that before they arrived, he could no longer feel his legs.