Title: The Beamer Boys
Word Count: 60,000
Genre: YA dark contemporary
Stokes Brokaw lives in the town of Wheaton, a choice slice of upper-middle class suburbia where bad things don’t ever seem to happen.
That changes when the Coyonga Kings, a gang of teenaged thugs comes into Wheaton from Bullhead, a poor town on the other side of the Coyonga River. Showing up at a local park where Stokes and his friends are hanging out, they declare that the park is now permanently off-limits. Stokes talks trash and refuses to leave, but unlike Gage ‘Hitter’ McCoy, the gang’s leader, his fists can’t back up his boasts.
Left with a bloodied face and a heart full of fear, Stokes convinces his friends to form a gang to protect themselves and defend Wheaton from an outside threat. Summer vacation turns into a brutal boot camp as they turn themselves into living weapons.
Tensions between the two rival gangs explode after a parking lot scuffle ends in tragedy for a Coyonga King. Enraged, Gage demands an all-out gang brawl. Stokes knows he's in deeper than he ever wanted. The decision to back down or fight is on him, and his choice could mean the end of more than just his gang.
I stared at the Sun, big and golden as it dipped towards the horizon. It was cool, watching it shade the darkening blue sky with strokes of pink and purple. It reminded me of the watercolor paintings I did in art class last semester. Unlike the junk I created, it was worth admiring.
My best friend Donovan sat next to me, but he couldn’t see how beautiful it looked. He was sobbing, and tears blurred his vision. I blinked my eyes dry as he cried, trying to stay strong as he crumbled to pieces.
“What happened, Donovan?” I asked him. “Please tell me. I’m all ears.”
He cried harder, mumbling a bunch of stuff I couldn’t understand as the summer heat beat down on us. I was a human hot dog, cooking inside of my clothes like beef cooking inside of its casing. Sweat trickled down the curve of my back, and my armpits got moister by the second.
I tried to take another sip of my Seven-Eleven Double Gulp, which probably contained enough Pepsi to supply an entire kid’s birthday party, but I couldn’t get any of it down. The lump in my throat, hard as stone, kept getting in the way.
I frowned as I noticed that Donovan hadn’t touched the equally oversized Slurpee I’d bought him. It wasn’t easy traveling with it to Lewami Park.
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