NOT MEANT TO BE

Prologue

Some things are meant to happen, just not meant to be. Some things are meant to come into your life, just not meant to stay. ~ Trent Shelton

Prologue

"Godt!"

Tee rang his bicycle bell to get the attention of the tall gangly teen playing basketball in his backyard.

"' Sup!"

Godt shot one perfect goal through the hoop and turned to face his best friend Tee, who is casually leaning against the handle of the bicycle.

"Let's go hang out at my dad's service station,"

Tee jerked his head.

"Don't wanna."

Godt picked the basketball and began bumping it.

"Why not?"

Tee whined.

"You only want to stare and drool at that new mechanic your dad hired."

The tall boy shot another goal successfully.

"I do not!"

Tee's fair cheeks turned crimson.

"Yes, you do!"

Godt tucked the ball under his arm and reached his friend.

"I don't care if you want to get into his pants, Tee."

Godt threw the ball over his shoulder towards his back yard.

"I can't stand that annoying brat your crush brings with him."

Tee gasped.

"That sweet kid Bas?"

"He may be sweet to you but he's an insufferable, little pest around me."

Contrary to his words, Godt dragged his bike from the garage and rolled it towards Tee.

"He's only ten!"

Tee exclaimed.

"How can he be a pest?"

"Trust me, he really is an annoying pest."

Godt nodded as they both began to peddle towards the service station.

"I think you're being a jerk,"

Tee began peddling fast.

"I think you're a pervert for wanting to stare at your mechanic's body,"

Godt yelled after him as his long lanky legs tried to keep up with Tee's much faster peddling.

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

----------------------------

"What are you doing here?"

Tee's dad looked up from the book of accounts and glared out at the two meddling teens through his office window.

"Just exercising dad,"

Tee mumbled leaning the bike against the wall.

Godt copied him quietly.

Mr. Jaruji shot another stern look and got back to his books.

"We're going to the workshop!"

Tee called over his shoulder to his dad.

The older man only grunted in reply.

They sprawled on the dump of old discarded car seats and other scraps of torn upholstery material, which had a direct vision of the workshop, where several mechanics did their duties in dark blue overalls.