All right, I'm not going to lie to any of you readers out there.
Some of you might be happy, some of you might get mad, some of you might get pissed, but I thought I'd take a spin at this Declassified business.
If you don't like this story, that's okay with me. I won't be mad at you. However, I think one comment will be enough to continue the story; if I don't get one, that's fine too. I wasn't expecting this one to be successful. I just thought it would be interesting if the "guide" was improved.
Yo, name's Neilius Bigby. I'm Ned Bigby's kid. You might know my dad if he gave you some helpful tips on how to "survive" middle school without getting into so much trouble where you don't graduate, or you might know him just because he's a lovable kind of guy. Well, that's how he is, understanding. I hope to be the same through the gene pool, but he likes to make the emphasis that we're almost nothing alike. Actually, we are a lot alike and I'm not afraid to say it; in fact, the only differences we have is eye color and growth from puberty. For instance, my hair ended up being longer and the facial hair kind of came a wee bit early for me. Also, when I was in middle school, I ended up being five inches taller than my dad when he was in middle school - call it a "breakthrough" in the gene pool - and I have a thing for weight training. My dad recommended me to his middle school coach, Ms. Dirga, and I've been her favorite ever since I started. She's not my only mentor, though. After her leg got busted up from one of her kids dropping a barbell on her calf, she's recommended me to her brother and he recommended me to others, so now I have the physique I want and I aims to keep it that way.
While my dad's busy getting ready for our morning jog, I'll be here cooking some stuff up because a good breakfast prevents unattractive mood swings, keeps you energized and helps you think clearly along with the exercise - something simple is always good - like a little walking or stretching to loosen up. - BANG! -
But not so much at such little timing 'cause sometimes hypertension, sprains or even cramps could occur right in the midst of you working out.
"Hang on, dad! I'm comin'!" Neilius calls from downstairs, running to the stairs.
Neilius runs inside of his father's bedroom, finding his squirming parent red in the face from lack of air underneath a barbell. He jumps above his father, swiftly relieves him of the weight on his throat then quickly lifts him onto his messy bed. Ned places his hand on his aching throat, panting heavily and laying his free hand on his son's broad shoulder. He looks up, noting the look of concern on his son's face then relaxes a bit.
"What lineage are you from?" Ned questions, heaving.
"I'm quite sure it's yours, dad," Neilius answers, tapping his father's wrist and moving it off his shoulder. "Why? Are you confessing that I'm an adopted child?"
"No, I just wonder sometimes."
Neilius rolls his eyes then smiles. Ned leans on a pile of worn clothes on his bed then looks at his son's form. His hands were on his hips as he stood before him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he wore a pair of red shorts and his silver and red running shoes. His muscles were still, nothing was tight and his calves were close to hairless. Coach Dirga told Ned that Neilius would make a great track runner with legs as sturdy and durable, but the boy never got into sports. He just stuck with his academics and hanging out with his friends at the gym or elsewhere. Neilius was Ned's son, though. He did what was for his best interests, but if there was one thing Ned could point that was different from them, it was Neilius' eyes. His eyes were probably the most distinct feature on his face as he looked in them: a shade of light green like his mother.
"You're like someone off a magazine: tall, strong, good-looking, healthy," Ned says, adding sarcasm to the last descriptive adjective of his son.
"Dad, you know I wouldn't be any of those things had it not been for you. Your lineage worked hard to produce me, so be proud of it!" Neilius cheered, bouncing some.
Ned looked at his son for a moment then shook his head. Seconds later, he was smiling and chuckling. Neilius saluted his dad then ran downstairs to the kitchen.
"That boy is something else," Ned sighed. "Where does he get it from?"
"Hey, dad, the food's ready so you can eat! I'm gonna wing it then come back to get ready!" Neilius said.
"All right, but you've got half-an-hour! School starts at nine!"
"'Kay, dad! Be back soon!" Neilius shouts, closing the door behind him.
Simon Nelson-Cook raised quite a son, the opposite of himself almost but the similarities are evident. He's smart like him, ambitious like him, and has a sense of mischief when faced with a challenge. Although he's not as emotional, when he is he's very much Cookie's son. He gets clumsy, behaves and moves around frantically, and will at times overreact to some situations. He often comes up with strange yet interesting plans to solve an issue, and he seeks his best friend's son's help whenever it's a problem he can't handle alone. However, whenever his son is in trouble, he's a different personality compared to him. He gets tough, anticipates a fight and gets ready for it. He'll even keep fighting until his point comes across: don't mess with him and do what's right.
As Cookie washed the used dishes, he decided to take a nice look outdoors when a moving figure came into view. He took a closer look to see Neilius jogging down the sidewalk. If there's girls giggling and making cat calls, that's how you know it's either Neilius or his boy. Cookie smiled at how much Neilius looked like Ned when he was that age then decided to stop washing the dishes. He walked up the stairs to his son's room, knocked on the door and noticed his son labeling his belongings.
"Hey, Joe, I think Neil's taking his jog. Wanna join him before school?"
"Really?" Joe questioned, furrowing his eyebrows then looking out the window. "Yep, that's him. Only crazy fool I know who'd jog without a shirt on."
"You might wanna hurry up if you're going. I'm quite sure he knows his time limits," Cookie hints, arching both eyebrows in an obvious manner. "You know how your godfather is. Gotta be ready for the first day at all times."
Joe chuckles then nods his head. He takes off his red T-shirt, replaces it with a wife beater and searches in his closet for his running shoes. Cookie goes downstairs to flag Neilius down so Joe can catch up then opens the door. Neilius notices the Cooks' house door opening and looks up for a brief moment. He sees his godfather, smiles and waves to him.
"Hey, Neil, wait up! Joe's comin' too!" Cookie says, smiling.
"Right here, dad!" Joe responds, running past his father to run alongside his friend. "Be back after while!"
"See ya, Cookie!" Neilius says, jogging in similar pattern with Joe.
"All right, guys!"
"Simon!" a woman calls.
Cookie goes inside to answer his wife then closes the door behind him. Neilius puts his iPOD inside his shorts pocket while jogging then proceeds to engage in conversation with his friend, Joey Nelson-Cook (a.k.a. "Joe").
"So you ready for junior year? We've only got the next year until graduation and we are so through, dude!"
"Amen!" Joe shouts, responding to Neilius' high-five and fist bump. "Think we'll have enough time to pick up Niah?"
"I called her earlier and she said she was on the phone with you. Were you guys talking about me again?" Neilius questions, pointing at Joe.
"No," Joe answers, swatting Neilius' hand away. "She was wondering about the schedules this year. All of us are on top with our core classes since we've been planning everything out since freshmen year, but we didn't do electives or P.E. - and you know how we love P.E. - or our community service hours. Plus, we haven't taken any of the entrance exams for college like ACT and SAT and we need to jump on that if we're going to apply for the same college - granted we're accepted."
"I know right," Neilius agrees, looking at Joe then back ahead of him. "Well, once we get the schedules, we'll work on them so we gets all the credits to graduate. I refuse to take another class in that fucking school!"
"No shit, join the party line."
"Okay!" a girl shouts, scaring Neilius and Joe. "What's the matter? Did the babies get scurred?" she teases, pouting her lips in a smirk.
"Shut up, Niah!" Neilius defends, pointing at the girl. "Where's Auntie Moze?"
"About to leave for work at the architecture firm. You know how she is. Hates being late and all," Niah says, leading the jog.
"Sounds a lot like all of us," Joe remarks, keeping pace with Niah. "We hate being late more than anything."
"Yeah, no doubt," Neilius agrees, keeping pace with his friends.
"I see you've been working out more. You got your six pack back, huh, buddy?" Niah questions, looking at Neilius' abs.
"Yep. Took a lot outta me, but I'm back in the game. It feels good, too. After Coach Dorris broke her leg - man! - I just stopped and the weight piled on, even though I ate healthy stuff."
"Hey, we all got fat and lazy, but we're in better spirits," Joe says. "Niah looks better than the Crosgrove sisters, I got rid of my bad habits, and you look cooler."
"What d'ya mean?" Neilius questions, furrowing his eyebrows.
"C'mon! Look at you!" Niah retorts. "Your hair is long and shiny, your skin is darker - it's not that ew-looking pale - and it's a beautiful tan complexion, you're not wearing glasses anymore and your eyes are a mysterious light green. Besides that, you've got the body of an angel if those Belleview High girls aren't living proof with them staring. Why don't you put a shirt on when you're jogging?"
"Finally someone addresses the topic," Joe remarks, turning a corner.
"See! Even Joe thinks it's dangerous," Niah says.
Neilius was about to respond, but a whistle in the distance interrupted him and the group looked in the general direction of the noise. It was a slender, blonde homosexual male with two of his girlfriends. He twiddled his fingers at the three then blew a kiss in their direction. All three of their jaws dropped for a quick second until Joe picked up his running pace.
"Oh, hell to the naw!" he mumbled.
"Joe, wait up!" Niah said, laughing.
"Hey, pretty baby! Where you going?" one of the girls questioned, calling out to Joe. "I like a little dark chocolate with my warm milk," she says, suggestively.
"No, you don't!" he answered, running faster until he was around the corner.
"That's all right! We'll take French vanilla over here with a side of mint," the other girls says, winking at Neilius.
"Start running!" Neilius says.
"Right behind you!" Niah says, following close behind Neilius who's on Joe's heels.