What was Jake, Trent, Bridgette, and Eddie's lives like before they became the Alpha Teens? Read as each one of the agents tell their deepest, darkest, personal stories on how they became the Alpha Teens.
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Hey, I'm Jake. So clearly, you're reading this because you want to know how I became the leader of the Alpha Teens. Here it is.
My dad (David), my mom (Jennifer), and my tiny bulldog (Ben) and I live in Columbus, Ohio. On a private road just a few blocks away from Liberty High School. What do they do for a living? My dad's an archeologist, inventor, and industrialist. He's obviously the one who brings in the bacon. But for some reason, he keeps the basement on lock down. Meanwhile my mom is the stereotypical stay home mom that makes the breakfast, lunch, dinner and cleans the house.
Since we lived on a private road, I didn't have much to do. I couldn't go outside, because my parents think somewhere hidden in the giant oak trees of our front yard, someone is watching me and most likely taking pictures. That's why they wouldn't let me drive to school, instead beg to drive me. So unsurprisingly, most of my days are spent in my room, the living room, or in the garage.
But speaking of school, it was tough. Aside from the fact that I got good grades, my teachers loved me, and I had a nice group of friends, I was an easy target. I'll never forget my stereotypical high school bully, Trent Rogers. Six-foot-three, dark brown slicked back hair, fairly noticeable jersey accent, and dressed like he bought his clothes from a thrift shop. I've been constantly bullied by him ever since middle school, and why did he pick me? Don't know. When he saw me in the hallways, he would give me a devilish glare, and his face would turn all red in anger. I would give him a glance and continue walking.
Defenseless Jake Trent and I had a feud that started out of nowhere. He hated me, and everyday to me was a gift, because I seriously thought this guy would kill me. I'll never forget the one day he humiliated me at the rec center on a Friday afternoon.
"Hey, you ready to go?" I said, jogging across the gym over to my best friend, Garek, sitting on the bleachers. A fun sized, Hispanic violin player in my Art class who constantly dressed like he was apart of some high school anime show.
"Uh, almost," Garek replied. I thought he was reading a book until I saw that his phone was popped out, taking a pictures of a couple of girls who were playing basketball. "Just give me a minute."
I sighed, mentally laughing at his pervy tendencies, but I don't judge. "Okay, I'm gonna go freshen up." I told him as I walked over towards the men locker room, oddly excited to change out of this sweaty red tank top and black gym shorts.
As I walked into the locker room, I saw Trent and his four other pals, or gang members in the back corner. They were making signs to vote Trent for class president. I knew I had to avoid eye contact, so I quickly hurried to my locker, that was thankfully right by the door. Even though I said I wouldn't make eye contact, I couldn't help but glance at Trent's new leather jacket that looked expensive. He didn't notice me looking at him, but one of his crew members did, quietly told him something, and Trent stared blank at me. Subtly startled, I turned back to my locker and took my shirt off.
I then realized loud footsteps were walking towards me.
"What's your problem?" A pissed off voice from behind said. I turned around, and it was Trent. "What, you some kind of crazy gay queer or something? I don't ever wanna catch you looking at me that way again, got it?"
"No, it's—it's not that," I managed to squeak out. "It's just—I thought your jacket looked really nice." Before I even caught my breath, he turned me around and pushed me against the lockers.
"Don't look at me that way," He said as he grabbed my arm and pulled it around my back, painfully stretching my shoulder joint. "I'm not your type," he uncomfortably whispered into my ear, while caressing the side of my face, then nuzzling his face against mine. "You like that?" He sensually said. I felt both physical pain and discomfort. He then backed away and said "Hold this bitch down" to his friends as they all grabbed me and hauled me down. I didn't stand a chance against these guys, so I took the hits. One of the guys grabbed my hair and yanked it, and I whimpered like never before.
I got my clothes torn off until I was in my white briefs. Trent was holding my face against the floor as someone was drawing on my back. I think it was a marker, but it hurt as hell. Trent then grabbed me by my hair and dragged me towards the showers as if I was a disobedient dog. I heard the showers switch on and I laid on the floor. Defenseless.
Later, while sitting criss-crossed in defeat, with cold water dousing onto me, I heard footsteps. I didn't want to turn around, I didn't care. I heard the shower nozzles turn off, and someone wrap a gray towel around me. As I turned around, it was Garek.
"The word 'fag' is written on your back." He said.
