META RUNNER: ANALOG

BEGIN CHAPTER 1

Blake Anderson woke up to the sounds of his mom and death. A loud clatter ran through the wall and into his ears. He stopped trying to listen to them long ago. The words meant nothing to him.

He knew that Jamile was out with his girl, but he needed a place to sleep, somewhere more quiet. He rummaged through his backpack, nothing remarkable, the notepad he never used, the pencils that were still unsharpened. There was a chord he had been searching for months on end to charge his phone.

According to the Chinese kid he swiped it from it was an idroid 7th generation, nothing like the idroid 40, but the chink had saved his lunch money for this. The lunch money in question was according to the boy, acquired through holding up stores and selling crap to the local dealers. Blake knew he was full of shit, no light skin has the balls to do what they do. They're too pampered, their struggles are concerned whether their mom and dads would buy them whips and baby crap. He probably never hustled a day in his life.

He grabbed his Glock. It only had 4 bullets since the gun couldn't take the bullets that all the other brothers used.

Blake popped the window open and hopped the fence and began walking across the sidewalk. Each step forced him to take a leap or a fall, since the pavement was cracked with steep lumps of tar to cover the gaps.

He eventually caught Jamile as he pulled into the driveway.

"Hey J!"

Jamile would normally whip around and reach inside his pants at the sound of another man's voice, but Blake's voice was layered into his mind. He rubbed through his hair and forced a smile.

"Little B! How's it going brother!" the two pulled each other in for a chest bump and went inside the house.

Jamile was the oldest in their group. He told them that he had big plans that he could only tell once they were old enough. It was probably why he wore collared shirts and ties, ditching the bandana and the white tank tops he usually wore.

They passed through the doorway and into the living room. The fake leather sofas that one would sink in from the lack of springs, the old wooden tables that held the fine glass vases and wilting flowers, all of it was gone. There was only a tv left.

"Shit J, where's the folding chair?"

"Had to pawn that shit."

"You doing crack Jamile?"

"Hey, try paying rent and holding a job for once. I might have to pawn that tv too."

"How's the girl?"

Jamile gave a grim look through his window into the rotted fence in the back. He took a swig from his vodka and offered a sip to Blake

"Bitch didn't like my plan."

"What the hell is the plan anyways man? What's with all the collared shirts and those honkey ass shoes? You lost your swag man!"

"Listen B, my folks wanted me to lead a better life, get out the hood."

"Oh shit. Is that your plan? You want us to get out the hood?"

"You have been doing your math and shit right?"

It was Blake's turn to look away and be quiet

"Blake, I'm trying to get you guys a real job. Not like those burger houses, a real job. We're gonna show the white man were coming to beat them at their own game."

"So, you're ass better graduate with straight A's."

"Can I sleep here?"

"Have you done your homework?"