In the bustling town, excite­ment sur­round­ed the school­child­ren and res­i­dents as they whis­pered about the new kid who had arrived. This stranger, dis­tin­guish­ing him­self with scrag­gly hair, a pen­chant for car­ry­ing a book, and flap-soled sneak­ers, was quick­ly mak­ing a name for him­self. Known for his uncan­ny ath­let­ic abil­i­ties, he had made quite an impres­sion by inter­cept­ing Bri­an Dene­hy’s pass and punt­ing it back, show­cas­ing a strength that sur­passed Dene­hy’s own throw.

His fame grew fur­ther when he res­cued Arnold Jones from a pre­car­i­ous sit­u­a­tion in Fin­ster­wald’s back­yard, and lat­er, he impres­sive­ly tat­tooed Giant John McNab’s fast­ball, hit­ting six home runs and cir­cling the bases with ease. The stu­dents had begun to refer to this extra­or­di­nary boy as “Mani­ac,” a name that quick­ly spread among them. It caught on so well that soon, every­one in town was call­ing him by that moniker, leav­ing behind any oth­er names, except for Aman­da Beale, who knew him dif­fer­ent­ly.

Despite his new­found rep­u­ta­tion, Mani­ac lacked a prop­er address to call home. For his ini­tial nights in town, he sought refuge in the deer shed at Elm­wood Park Zoo, mak­ing do with what scraps he could find, such as car­rots, apples, and day-old ham­burg­er buns. His con­nec­tion to a sto­ry began when he dis­cov­ered Aman­da Beale’s book on his sec­ond day in town. Cap­ti­vat­ed by the account of the Children’s Cru­sade, he not only read the book in one sit­ting but also decid­ed to keep it for addi­tion­al read­ings in the days that fol­lowed.

While oth­ers might have spent their time walk­ing aim­less­ly, Mani­ac Magee ran every­where he went, book in hand, ensur­ing its pris­tine con­di­tion. It was dur­ing one of these runs that he encoun­tered a vital moment in his life that would fur­ther define his exis­tence in the town.