Kyle James was running from bullies. As per usual. He had actually begun to worry that his team of tormentors had forgotten about him when he passed them on his way to 7-Eleven and the leader, Johnny, had promptly led an attack. It was nice to be cared about. Kyle was glad that he’d been running from bullies for about twelve of his seventeen years, so it was more of an annoyance now than an actual threat. It also helped that his bearers of misery had repeatedly changed over the years, and they were typically nowhere near as fast as him.
The first thing I knew was warmth. Sunlight. I opened my eyes and had to immediately shade them from the blinding light. The next thing I knew was soft beneath my hand and arms. Grass. Softer and greener than any grass I’d ever known before. Where was I? A field?
“So, we got a new target?” I asked as Dolos sat back down at the metal table.