Prologue

Ever since Manny Lockwood was a boy, he was always on the run.

He ran away from home when he was five years old after his mother yelled at him for knocking over his grandma's urn. It took the police three days and two nights before they finally found him sitting on the floor of a gas station with chocolate syrup and gummy bears all over his hands and cheeks.

When he was ten, he ran from a horde of eighth graders who wanted to kick his ass for kissing one of their girlfriends. To be fair, all he wanted was his first kiss with the prettiest girl in school, but jocks with bats don't usually listen to reason. In the end, he couldn't sit down for a week.

He even got caught drinking at fifteen and was chased down on foot for nearly five miles before he tripped over his feet and broke his jaw. He spent the night in county jail wishing he had tied his shoes.

Now he was on the run again two years later. And like every time, he was sure to get caught.

"FWEET! FWEET! FWEET! Stop! Someone stop him!"

Sweat slid down his forehead and into his eyes as he picked up his pace. Nostrils flared. Jagged breath. Shaky fists. Every time Manny's heels met the pavement, his heart pumped harder and stronger than the last second it did, but he wasn't sure how long the muscles in his legs could take the impact. It was almost like an obstacle course with jumping over lunch tables here, or shoving past groups of teachers there. He already ran about eight laps around the campus with the deputy right on his tail.

But anyone driving a golf cart at top speed always had the upper hand.

Manny quickly glanced over his shoulder to see the deputy getting closer and closer as he was getting slower and slower. He knew that if he didn't make any sudden moves to throw him off he would be screwed. It was bad enough that he was at the scene of the crime, but he only made it worse by running.

"FWWEEET! I said stop Lockwood!" the officer shouted, his eyebrows creased and face red as a tomato.

"Okay fine! I'll stop asshole!" Manny replied with a smile and gruff voice, screeching to a halt in front of the open storage unit full of the school's sports equipment. He then jumped off to the side as the deputy flew past him, still at top speed, and crashed right into the racks of basketballs, baseballs, and numerous footballs.

He locked his fingers behind his head and took in deep breaths of the cool fall air before jogging off again while the deputy tried to get himself untangled from the web of soccer nets.

This time Manny took a sharp left instead of a right and headed straight towards the school's gigantic football field. He even turned around and jogged backwards to see the officer emerge from the building and throw his shades to the concrete, cracking them on impact. Manny threw him the middle finger and turned back around, not going as fast because of the sharp pain in his quadriceps again.

He skidded down a steep dip that led into the field with nothing but shamrock colored grass and mile-high bleachers as far as the eye could see.

Well, at least as far as Manny could see because he certainly didn't notice the six-foot-one football player charging his way and— BAM! The bodies immediately collided into one another, helmet against head, and knocked both of them to the ground. A sudden ringing sounded in Manny's ear, but he couldn't tell if that was from the rattling of his brain or the high-pitched whistles coming from the coaches and the deputy.

"Ahh, shit..." he said through gritted teeth, rolling over to his side and clutching his possibly bruised rib cage. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

The clear blue sky above him was overshadowed by large, warm and smelly bodies beginning to huddle around Manny and the groaning football player on the grass. And as they did, the whistles grew louder and louder as the deep voices were brought down to mere whispers.

"What happened?! What happened?!"

"Is that Manny?! Why the hell is he blue?"

"Move over doofus, I can't see shit behind your big ass head..."

"Awe crap, is Malcom dead?! How are we supposed to finish practice now?!"

"Well if he's dead, I call dibs on his jersey!"

"Man I gotta take a piss..."

"Everyone quiet!... Move!... Give them some air!" the deputy said as he pushed passed the sea of boys to the center where Manny and the still groaning football player, Malcom, was.

Manny raised his calloused hand off his temple and came eye-to-eye with creased, dark brown leather boots, an olive-colored police uniform, and the crimson red, heaving face of deputy Jackson, the campus cop. 

"So, ha, uh..." Manny chuckled, a nervous grin on his face. "Best two out of three?"

The deputy folded his arms across his chest once he caught his breath. "You. Me. Dean's office. Now."

I know a lot of y'all got some short ass attention spans, so I wanted to make this prologue quick, fun, and really intriguing. Without giving too much away, this scene is truly essential for the entire story. I like to think of it as a butterfly effect.

Expect the rest of the chapters to be no more than fifteen pages max from here on out because I am looking forward to making this a good ass (and long ass) story for y'all.

So please, don't let me stop you. Slide up and get ready to die of laughter, cry your eyes out, and throw your phone at the wall.

~  Robin  ~