Trouble Makers

The Past: Nat's POV

I skip down the sidewalk away from home. I never want to go back. It was pretty dumb to not bring any money or anything but you know what? I don't give a crap. I'm about 10 years old now. I skip along and trip over a root sticking out of the cement.

My knees skid across the hard gravel. It burns badly. My fission blurs and I can't see anything but two small blue sneakers in front of my face. Then a hand trying to help me up.

"Need some help?" Asks a small boy, about 11 years old. I look up. He had blond hair. Short. He outstretches his hand. I do a quick nod and take his hand. I feel a zap. Oh my gosh...

He yanks my upward and I manage a, "Thanks." I look at my knee and it was bleeding. I knew it was going to. He asks me if I need help and I shrug. He gets into his sack that he had around his back and took out some bandages. He wraps my leg and I wince as the banage touches my wound.

"What's your name?" He asks, smiling slightly.

"Nat." I reply, pressing my lips together. "Yours?"

"Neil." He smiles shyly. He brushes his bangs out of his face and we stand there silently. Should I ask if he is an outcast like me? I'll take the chance.

"Are you an outcast?" I ask. There is a pause before he looks around making sure we're alone and looks back at me. I gain joy when he nods. "What are you still doing around here then?" A shrug.

"Wanna stick with me?" I ask a bit quietly. He nods.

Two years later when I'm twelve and he's 13, he expresses his love to me while making a fire. And that's when I have my first kiss. The fire burnt his pants in the process but it was still hella romantic.

Then later on we bumped into a scrawny kid with shaggy hair. He looked homeless. We took him in, fed him, and fixed him up. We found his name was Aaron. He was 12 and a half at the time.

Then we took in a chubby kid. His clothes where just as smelly as he was, and they where torn. His shoes had holes in them and he walked with a limp. We fixed him too and his name was Hunter.

Then we saw a girl with mascara running down her face, charging her phone in an outside outlet. She was trying to make a fire and she was failing badly. She was thin, her ribs where showing and her lips were cracked. A fire wouldn't help her case. We fed her and cleaned her face and hair. We found she is addicted to her phone and video games. Her name is Hope.

Later on when we where grown teenagers, ready to drive, we hid in alleys and made trouble. Homers was our least favorite neighbor because he would always threaten to call the cops. Then a lot of drama happened and we called ourselves the Trouble Makers.