☆Maybe it started with running☆

Running.

Jeffrey was only three when his parents died. So he was forced to move in with his aunt dot and uncle Dan. They hated each other. Dan was on one side of the house, dot on the other. It was fun sometimes. Two Christmases. Two dinners. Two of everything. He was only 15 when he ran away from this monstrosity of a family. He ran till he had to walk. He ran till the soles of his shoes worn out. He ran till his pants started to get holes in them. He ran till his shirt started ripping. He ran till he got hungry. He ran till he got thirsty. He ran straight into the west end. He ran till he was now a complete orphan. No home. No family around. No friends. No school. No nothing. But that didn't stop the running boy.

Jeffrey was walking down the streets of the west end, before hearing a loud whistle. The pickwells whistle. Mrs pickwell always whistle for her 11 children, her husband, grandparents and great grandparents, and, Jeffrey guess for him as well, for dinner.

All the pickwells, plus Jeffrey, flooded in the house for supper. It was spaghetti night. They said grace and dug in. Mrs pickwell looked at her family eating and smiled before noticing something. She counted in her head, "one pickwell, two pickwell, random kid....? One pickwell, two pickwell...  Random kid!" she was about to stand up and ask the kid who he was but wasn't fast enough and he already finished his food and dashed out.

His stomach full, Jeffrey ran straight to the baseball field. Where he met McNab. Giant John McNab. The best fastball thrower in the high school.

Every time one of the batters did hit the fastball he would yell, "ONE... TWO... THREE!". Until a boy stepped up. He grabbed a hat off one of the players head and put it on his own, and positioned the bat up, waiting for the ball. McNab laughed.

"Aye, Shorty, I ain't got time for you! Move along!" McNab said, motioning Jeffrey off. Jeffrey didn't move. He looked McNab in the eyes and gripped the bat.

McNab thought. He smirked and then lifted his hand. The ball. He looked at Jeffreys bat, and threw. The ball was fast. But it didn't hit the wall behind Jeffrey. It was in the air. Flying to the fence. It hit the fence. And that's how it was for a while.

McNab threw, Jeffrey hit. Until McNab got mad. McNab whistled and a few boys approached him. A few big boys. The cobras. The "gang" McNab was "in". They talked before turning to Jeffrey and smirking. Jeffrey got the smirk and dropped the bat. He looked at the cobras before running. The cobras picked up rocks and started throwing it at Jeffrey, chasing him. The rocks stung his back everytime they hit his back. That didn't slow him down. The cobras were laughing and yelling for Jeffrey, he didn't stop. He ran through the streets of the west end, past the famous little zoo, and past the invisible line that seperated blacks and whites. No one crossed that line. No black and No white went to either side. McNab smirked and backed away from the line, along with his minions. Before running.

Jeffrey Magee, a white kid, was now in the colored kids part of town.