Okay, just a small AN for the first chapter. I just wanted to ask, if you want review and tell me if you wanted to add something to the story. A plot twist or a character that you want to have come to life but can't write about it for some reason. The more info the better. I might not be able to get many extra ideas into the story, but I'll try. Oh, and if I do use your ideas, I'll put it in an AN, k? Alright.
The sirens chased me as I ran down the semi-crowded street. I needed knew chase joggers, I thought with a sigh, they were pretty much falling off my feet. I tried to remember when I'd gotten them. Two years ago at least. I shook my head, clearing my mind of everything but evading the cops. Again. I saw a side alley that headed off to the left. I heard no sirens but from the cop car behind me, actually catching up for once.
Do you know the local cops have a criminal name for me? Jellybeans. Pretty weird, but these guys aren't known for their imaginations. The reason I'm called Jellybeans is because I steal at least one jar of jellybeans from every house I steal from. I'll tell you the reason for that later. I'm not a serious criminal, just an 'annoying thief'. Please, I'm the worst criminal in this town's history since Converse. I swear, imaginative skills and carrier choices are generic in this place.
My tactics, I wait outside a house, wait for the family to leave the house and sneak in. Easy. I always go to the cupboard first, grabbing anything that will keep and isn't too heavy, leaving almost all the food to the family. Hey, I'm considerate too! Then I get anything that looks good for dinner that night and any snacks that would keep for about a week. I grab around 20-50 dollars (I don't just rely on food to survive. Sad truth.) and finish off my routine with one or two (depending on how many they have) jars of jellybeans. I stuff the food in my backpack and the money in the zip-pockets of my grey hoodie.
Yeah, I'm a runaway, but you haven't heard the whole story. Believe me, you would run away from my former home too if you'd lived there. But since I'm getting my daily run, the whole story can wait for later. I neared the alley on the left. I love this alley. It's saved my butt too many times to count. Each time, I run straight for the visible inside wall and jump, using my feet to rebound off it. By now I have a handprint indented in the wall from where I've shot my hand out to stop myself head-banging against it. With my momentum, I launch myself up onto the tall dumpster and jump onto the low roof.
I hear the cop car screech to a halt at the mouth of the alley in an attempt to block off the 'only' exit. Suckers. Chief Jones and Sergeant Craig get out of the car, guns drawn. I call down to them, alerting them to my position on the roof. They both look up and point their guns at me. I flip them the finger and laugh, running out of eyeshot. I hear a shout and turn around, just in time to hear a gunshot and see the bullet whizzing through the air, metres off target. I poke my head over the tin roof.
"Ya missed Chief. Tell Charlotte about the big one who got away for me, will ya?" I called, before cackling and walking towards my hidey-hole. I heard them both cursing angrily and I cracked a smile. I walked over to the odd patch in the tin roof, a sheet of red tin surrounded by green. When I'd first found it, I'd thought it odd. Then I'd lifted the tin right up and uncovered a very nice hide-out. Now, if you found my hide-out, you'd find a few sleeping bags, a half-filled trash can and two backpacks of clothes. Yeah, so all that plus all the home-made cupboards and draws full of packaged food.
So far, they only call me Jellybeans because they haven't seen my face yet. Well, they have, just not when I'm running from the law. I actually go to school, I have friends, I'm well liked throughout the town, most because of my contributions to the local gallery. My paintings are really good and a nice change from the usual. I smile at Chief Jones when I pass him in the street. So yeah, most know me, but not the whole me.
People recognise the fiery red hair and brown eyes, but only one other person in town knows of my bushy red squirrel tail. I'm an experiment for an evil facility. Well, was an experiment. I'll explain in a minute. I get on really well with animals. I hang upside down in the trees and watch as the wildlife circles around me.
Now comes the history lesson. Up until three years ago I admired the legend of Maximum Ride and her Flock. Since the three years that I've been out of the facility, I've found that they've all had it easy. They still have each other. The day before we escaped, I heard a scientist (AN Whitecoat) telling another about how the Flock had taken to free life. Even though I'd been racing through a maze filled with wolf-men (AN Erasers) at the time, I'd still heard the man saying that the now 22 year old Max was married to Fang. That she was also pregnant and living with her loving mother, half sister and her Flock. He said that Iggy had a girlfriend, Nudge was in college and the siblings, the Gasman and Angel, were in high school.
I remembered the stories that used to come back to the facility. About how Max had taken down 20 wolf-men single-handedly on a daily basis, how she'd survived the 'Voice' implantation. How, together, they'd battled hordes of wolf-men and almost died, only to come out alright. We would all pray for them. Pray they stayed safe, pray they stayed free.
The next day an earthquake hit. Me and my family knew we had to get out of there even before we knew it was coming. I was being lead for a restroom break when I'd struck out at my accompanying wolf-man and raced back to the others. I opened the door and released Caro first. We had become exceedingly close over the years. I let out Mina next, my best friend. Sierra and Paul were the last ones. Only three and four years old, they'd endured more than the average man. When the wall beside us ripped in half, we made our escape. I always knew that having our room connected to the facility via only a small tunnel was going to be their worst mistake. Three of our walls were facing the open air and we escaped easily.
I carried Paul and Caro carried Sierra. We were like parents for them, me and Caro. We'd often been told that Caro and I were destined to be 'mates'. Soulmates as it were. Mina was a lot like a sister, an Auntie for Paul and Sierra. The five of us spent seventeen days in the freezing cold, eating whatever we could catch. Mina being part eagle helped greatly on that front.
Sierra was the first to go. She got sick and passed away in her sleep. We cried many tears over her horrible death, her short-lived freedom. I can still hear her dreaded coughing. Mina was mauled by a bear two days after Sierra. My heart shattered at the dread surrounding me like a plague; first my baby, then my sister. Me and Caro supported each other through the heartbreak, tears flowing like a river. Together we comforted Paul. He and Sierra were as close as anything, like young siblings and Mina was their dearest Aunt. He was only four years old. The poor child had never lost anyone close to him before. It was horrible to bear his sorrow. Me and Caro had been friends with 'experiments gone wrong'; we'd gone through it before. But no amount of experience could lessen the pain of losing someone close to you.
And then, just as Paul was starting to smile again, 3 weeks later, the wolf-men found us. After telling me to take Paul and run, Caro faced the ruthless beasts alone. I can hear his screams in my sleep; see his bloodstained face in my dreams. Every night I remember my love. I cry every morning before school. My soulmate, I still have no idea how I've managed to survive without him. I cringe every time I see someone with honey-blonde hair.
Paul is still with me. I think he's the only reason I keep going on with my life. I would have flung myself off a cliff by now if it wasn't for him. Whenever I see his eyes light up at the sight of jellybeans, I smile. The little things in life are the things you shouldn't take for granted. It's a rule I've always lived by.
Our education is also something the kids at school take for granted. Paul loves to learn. When we were walking home from school early this year, when he was 6 turning 7, I couldn't help but smile as he tried to remember the part of the alphabet he'd learnt that day. I myself had learnt about complex math problems and Australian history, but Paul's joy always lit up my day. I love watching as he plays on the playground while I talk with my school friends, Elicia and Shannan. They still don't know the complete reason why I ignore their discussions about boys and boyfriends. They just know that I lost him a few years ago.
Thinking of Caro brings a tear to my eye, but I wipe it away as Paul runs towards me, eyes lighting up as he sees the jar of jellybeans I brought home.