Chapter II: Friends in Unexpected Places

Logan was starving.

He'd been living on the streets for about three months, and with the passing of his twelfth birthday came a massive growth spurt. Having eaten and/or outgrown all of his luggage and spent all of his money, the only possessions he had left were the clothes on his back, which he'd filched from a thrift store's donation bin. He was currently walking through a park in the middle of bustling Great Lakes City as the sun was beginning to set, looking for a suitable place to sleep and trying to ignore the painful rumbling in his stomach. He'd already made the mistake of sleeping on a street gang's turf, as evidenced by the two angry red scars on his face, one just below his left eye that stretched nearly to his ear, and one that began on the left side of his chin and went straight down for three inches (and thankfully wasn't deep enough to injure his jugular vein). He was frighteningly thin, wearing a filthy Colorado Rockies baseball jersey that was missing the top three buttons, a pair of jeans that was full of holes, and sneakers that were nearly worn through. His greasy white hair was choppy from attempting to cut it himself, which he didn't do that bad of a job.

Nearby, someone had rented a section of the park for a party of some kind (judging by the tiki torches and many, many colorful flowers, it was probably a luau). Boys and girls of all ages ran around playing games, their joyful shouts mingling with the other sounds of the city. Logan had to wipe a tear from his eye at the painful reminder of the siblings he'd left behind. His eyes settled on an unoccupied metal park bench that was painted a dull green. A little stereotypical, but better than nothing. He laid down on the bench, closed his eyes, and was just about to drift off when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see a girl right around his own age looking down at him. She had long, curly brown hair with streaks of copper, fair skin with a light dusting of freckles across her nose, and heterochromatic eyes, the left one being brown and the right one being green.

"Why are you laying here on this bench?" she asked.

"I-I-I was t-trying to sleep," he stammered nervously while inching away from her. She read his body language, and her expression softened.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I was just curious, that's all," she said. She then gasped when she took in his injuries and the state of his clothes. "Y-you're homeless, aren't you?" Logan turned away, not wanting to look her in the eye.

"I guess you could say that," he mumbled. The girl sat down beside him.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"Not really."

"I'm Melody, by the way. My friends call me Mel," the girl told him.

"I'm Logan, nice to meet you." Logan wiped the dirt off of his own hand as best as he could before shaking Mel's. Logan's stomach rumbled loudly, which Mel took notice of while Logan blushed.

"We have plenty of food at the luau. Would you like something to eat?" Mel asked.

"The others won't mind?" Logan asked nervously.

"No. It's MY birthday, after all; I can invite whoever I want," Mel replied. She grabbed Logan's hand and practically dragged him over to where the party was being held. A stocky man with brown hair and brown eyes that could only be Mel's father was manning a barbecue grill, on which numerous hamburgers and hot dogs were being cooked. "Hey, Dad, can you load up a plate for my new friend here?" Mel asked him. The man smiled.

"Look at you, ever the considerate one. Of course I can, sweetheart," he replied. He placed a hamburger and a hot dog on a paper plate and handed it to Logan, who was then shown to the condiments and side dishes by Mel. After piling his plate high with potato salad, baked beans, and Jell-O, Logan sat down at a picnic bench and began wolfing it down like no tomorrow. Once he noticed Mel and the people around him giving him funny looks, his face turned red in embarrassment, and he began pacing himself.

"Is something wrong?" Mel asked, noticing his abrupt change in demeanor.

"S-s-sorry about my manners. This is just the first full meal I've had in over a month," Logan replied in shame.

"Oh, don't worry, we've all done something like that at some point," Mel said and patted his shoulder. When he finished eating, Logan joined Mel and her friends in playing hula hoops, horseshoes, and lawn darts. Nobody made a real big fuss about Logan's living conditions until Mel's appropriately named Aunt Karen, who looked like a female version of Mel's dad, wanted to take a group picture.

"Hey, homeless kid, I need you to get out of the picture. It needs to be perfect for my perfect little niece," she said.

"C'mon, Aunt Karen, Logan's my new friend. Let him stay, please?" Mel asked.

"Sorry, sweetie, but he has to go. Our family has appearances to uphold," said Karen. "Go home, kid, or else you'll be past your bedtime." Logan didn't know which part was worse: that she saw him as some little tyke that needs to be in bed at a certain time, or that she told him to go home when it was painfully obvious that he didn't have one.

"No," he firmly replied, suddenly feeling bold.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, kid. Get out of the party, and get out of the park. Now," Karen spat.

"No," Logan said again.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" Karen sighed. She walked over to Logan, roughly grabbed his wrist, and started dragging him away.

"Hey! Let go!" Logan protested. Karen abruptly dropped his wrist and swiped her surprisingly sharp fingernails across his face, leaving three gashes on his right cheek to match the ones on his left. The force of the blow was enough to knock Logan to the ground.

"AAUUGGHH! You little hobo! You made me break a nail!" Karen screeched while Logan attempted to pick himself up. "HUBBY! Teach this boy a lesson he'll never forget!" Logan was just about to stand up when he was knocked flat by a kick to his stomach delivered by Karen's husband. While Logan struggled to pull air into his lungs, the man grabbed him by the hair and punched him in the face, causing one eye to immediately swell up. Before he could strike Logan again, Mel's father came to the rescue, delivering a flurry of jabs and kicks that could only have come from karate.

"I hate to do this to you, Karen, but you and your husband are no longer welcome in our household," he said while his sister and brother-in-law were loaded into a police car. He then picked up the unconscious Logan in a bridal carry, and he and Mel walked back to their mansion nearby.

When Logan woke up two days later, he was lying in a soft bed with bandages wrapped around his face and hooked up to an IV and heart monitor. He heard footsteps and turned his face toward a doorway to see Mel enter the room.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" she said. "For a while, I thought you'd go into a coma!"

"Wha-what is this place?" Logan croaked. His throat was so parched that it felt like he swallowed a handful of cotton balls.

"You're in my dad's private infirmary. You were in really bad shape..." Logan learned from Mel that her dad, Marvin Maestro, was an honorably discharged CIA agent and the tenth-richest man in the city. From then on, Marvin treated Logan like his own son, giving him karate lessons once the boy started to put on a healthier weight. Private tutors gave him a decent education, and years later, Logan himself was accepted into the CIA.

After completing a mission in Hong Kong, Logan, now twenty-one and a ruggedly handsome devil, lay on the bed in his hotel room with the TV tuned in to an American news channel. A story was on about a gang leader being sentenced to life in prison. He was about to change the channel out of boredom when the man's mug shot appeared on the screen. Logan jolted when he recognized the man that caused him to leave his family all those years ago. Now that he was behind bars, there was no reason to be afraid for the safety of his loved ones anymore. Choking back tears of joy, Logan grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table and dialed the number of his personal secretary.

"Mel, I need a plane ticket as soon as possible."

"Sure thing, Logan. Where to?"

"Royal Woods Municipal Airport, Michigan."

"What? Royal Woods is so small, it's practically not on the map. Why do you want to go there?"

"Because I'm finally going home..."