ã€ŠDaily Drama (In American TV Shows)ã€‹


 Daily Drama - Chapter 1

    "Experience, feel, and confront your fears so that you can heal and grow. In the end, you won''t remember the bad moments in your life, only the silence that existed between the good ones. Now leave so I can talk to your mother". Those were the last words I heard from my father, accompanied by a small note he handed me, a note with the same words written on it.

    I remember that everything outside his shared room in the hospital seemed very clean, as a hospital should be. It smelled like floor disinfectant, and there was a constant stream of sounds, from people talking to beeping electrocardiograms. While my parents were talking inside, nurses would come in and out of the room, likely to attend to the other people who were admitted in the same room as my father.

    At that moment, I didn''t pay much attention to what my father had said. He was dying from a cause no one understood, and I was angry with him because, to my immature self, it seemed like he didn''t care about dying or finding out why he was dying. I was furious with the doctors because I thought they weren''t trying to find the cause of my father''s inability to walk due to the pain in his body. He looked so different from the memories I had of him, emaciated, thin, looking like a dead man before dying. I grabbed the note, which I had unknowingly clenched in my hands, and threw it onto one of the chairs beside me.

    As time passed, I started drifting off until the next thing I remember is being in the back of a taxi, lying on my mother''s lap. It was raining outside, one of the worst storms in Los Angeles that I can recall experiencing.

    My mother noticed that I had woken up. Her eyes were red, tear stains on her face, and her heart was undoubtedly broken. She did what any mother would do. She looked into my eyes and forced a smile, probably trying to cheer me up. Once again, this enraged me.

    My father''s funeral took place a few days later. Seeing my mother crying made me cry, and together we cried for a long time until I grew tired and fell asleep again, leaving my mother alone in her mourning.

    From there, everything happened very quickly. We moved from home because Mom couldn''t afford the mortgage and the debts from a hospital that did nothing to solve my father''s illness. She got a second job and then a third. As a child, I didn''t understand the difficulties she was going through, so I didn''t do anything to support her in our small apartment. I isolated myself both literally and metaphorically from the outside world. At school, I stopped talking to my friends, playing video games, and watching television. I''m not exactly sure when it happened, but I made a promise to myself. I would be a better doctor than those at that hospital. I would show them how the work should be done, how lives should be saved, how they could have saved Dad.

    I started studying day and night. My second home was the public library a few blocks from my school. With the little money Mom gave me for lunches, I bought second-hand books that gradually filled boxes I kept under my bed. I achieved the best grades, won awards, competed for my school against other schools, and won every time. Some small newspapers in the city wrote articles about me, but none of it mattered to me. They weren''t my goal; they were just small achievements on my path to becoming the best doctor.

    When the time came to go to medical school, I applied to the best schools in the country. I was accepted by all of them with full scholarships, thanks to my impressive academic records and my achievements in various competitions I participated in.

    In the end, I decided on Harvard because being in Boston, on the other side of the country, would distance me from so many painful memories with my father in California.

    What I didn''t think about at that moment was that I would also be distancing myself from a very tired mother who was still paying off hospital debts.

    "I''m so proud of you," my mother said as she hugged me goodbye outside the airport, "I know you''ll be an incredible doctor who will save many lives."

    "Thank you, Mom," I replied, squeezing her tightly, "I''ll call you every day and come back during the vacation period," I promised before letting go, "so don''t be sad." We shared a final silent embrace, and I left to fulfill the promise I had made.

    Medical school was relatively easy for me. I had studied daily since my father''s death for this purpose. All those years of seclusion were paying off. My academic life didn''t change much from the past. I didn''t make friends or seek to make any. The only people I talked to were the professors and assistants, with various questions related to disease diagnosis and medical findings.

    At the end of my first year, I returned home. My mother was ecstatic with happiness, so proud of me. She called me her favorite doctor, showing me off to the elderly neighbors. She made my favorite meal as a celebration before leaving for her third job.

    My mother was tired, worn out, with gray hair and old clothes that she surely wore to be able to send me the little money she sent for my school supplies.

    I hadn''t noticed it at that moment. I returned home with a lot of study material, but despite being at home, I secluded myself in my room to continue studying. I only came out to eat the food my mother had prepared because she wasn''t there when I left.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The years went by like this until, four years later, my mother fell ill. Being so close to graduating, I decided, with my mother''s help and her insistence, to stay and not visit her in the same hospital where my father had died many years before.

    After the attacks on September 11, 2001, there were interruptions in telephone services in some areas of the country. One of the calls that couldn''t be received that day came from the hospital; my mother was very ill.

    Mom died on September 14, 2001, and I didn''t find out until two days later.

    I packed my whole life into a few boxes and moved to an even cheaper apartment. Now I had two debts to pay. I dropped out of medical school and applied for many different jobs. I easily obtained some certifications and became a paramedic. Now I worked in an ambulance, taking hundreds of injured people to the same hospital where I had lost my parents. I worked alongside doctors who were blinded by their hierarchical positions, envying those who had achieved what I had not.

    Every day I felt worse. I started drinking and neglecting myself.

    Years later, finishing my shift, my boss asked me and my colleague to follow him to a room. Inside, there was a family¡ªa woman with a little boy by her side and a man on a bandaged stretcher, asleep but stable.

    The child turned to his mother, asking for some kind of permission, and when he received a nod, he thanked us with a small hug for saving his father. It seemed that we had been the first responders when he had an accident a few days ago. I didn''t remember it, but apparently, the mother had insisted on meeting us to express her gratitude, and she was given the opportunity later on.

    I still remember her words: "Thank you for saving my husband''s life," she said while giving me a hug.

    I had forgotten. All those years thinking that I hadn''t achieved my dreams, and there I was, depressed for not being a doctor, for not being recognized, for feeling lesser. I had forgotten that my promise was to become a doctor to save lives. It was the main point of it all. That child could see his father again because we saved his life. What did it matter if I didn''t have a degree hanging in a beautiful office? I could still save lives.

    I don''t remember how I got home that day, or if I said goodbye to anyone. I remember arriving with chest pain, gasping for air. I possibly ran from the hospital to my house. The apartment was a mess, cheap alcohol bottles scattered everywhere, trash all around, mold in some parts of the ceiling, leaking faucets, and the shower had no showerhead¡ªwater flowing directly from the pipe. Everything was horrible. How had I not realized my way of life? For some reason, I desperately wanted to see myself in a mirror, but I realized I didn''t have one. I remembered that my mother had her purse in one of the boxes. Surely she had a handheld mirror. I took out all the boxes from a closet and started unpacking everything. In one of the boxes, I found the purse and emptied its contents on the floor. It had many things, especially paper clippings, but there was no mirror. As I gathered everything, I realized the clippings were newspaper pieces, all with my achievements. I had collected them all. There were pictures of me as a child, laughing with Dad, the day I won a math competition, the day I got into medical school. I had the grade reports she received every year without my knowledge. Tears began to fall from my eyes onto the papers in my hands. My mother had years of accomplishments saved in her purse.

    In the end, there was an envelope with my name on it. Inside, there was a letter clearly written by my mother.

    "Son, I''m writing this letter not knowing if they will give it to you someday. I sincerely hope it doesn''t happen. I asked you not to come back this year because I didn''t want you to see me the way I am right now. I remember how it was with your father; I didn''t want you to experience something like that again.

    At that moment, you isolated yourself and started studying as if everything that happened with your father was your fault, or maybe as if you wanted to take it upon yourself to ensure that something similar never happened again. It was never your responsibility; it was something that couldn''t be controlled in any way. But seeing you so focused, I never had the courage to tell you to stop. I''m sorry if you felt burdened with the responsibility of doing what you do.

    Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? I know you''ll be a great doctor someday, saving lives and diagnosing any disease you come across. You have a bright future ahead of you. I love you with all my heart.

    Mom.

    P.S.: There''s something for you inside the envelope."

    Once again, with more tears than I could control, I pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper from the envelope. As I unfolded it, I couldn''t contain my tears and, for some reason, a hysterical laughter of happiness combined with a tinge of melancholy. Everything turned dark.

    The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed. I had fainted, and they hadn''t found me until the next day because my colleague reported me missing.

    A nurse entered the room, surprised to see me awake. She immediately called my doctor.

    The doctor who treated me informed me that I had terminal cancer. I never saw it coming. I didn''t feel well, obviously, but I attributed it to my depression and lifestyle. I never imagined it was cancer. I ignored all the symptoms.

    I started treatment to prolong my life as much as possible. My oncologist gave me three months.

    Two months later, lying in a hospital bed by the doctor''s orders, I smiled at the small note of paper that I had asked the nurse in charge of me to bring from my apartment. Finally, I understood.

    I remembered those very few happy moments of my life.

    "If there''s a second chance, I''ll make sure to be happy. This time, I''ll become a doctor, enjoy life, experience new things, make friends, and form a family that I''ll cherish above all," I said as I closed my eyes and stopped breathing.

    I died.

    Nurses and doctors rushed in when the alarm sounded, but they couldn''t do anything. On the floor, the nurse in charge of the recently deceased found the small note, picked it up, and smiled as she read its content.

    "Experience, feel, and confront your fears so that you can heal and grow. In the end, you won''t remember the bad moments in your life, only the silence that existed between the good ones."

    Death feels good...

    Or at least, that''s what I should think. For some reason, my head hurts, and there''s a frantic blonde woman in front of me.

    "PJ!" the woman shouted. "Are you okay?"

    ...

    Author''s thoughts

    I''m not a doctor nor am I American, therefore I don''t know how the American educational system works 100%. If you find an error, I would appreciate it if you let me know. Please leave a review and a comment.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 2

    "PJ!" The woman shouted. "Are you okay?"

    The woman seemed genuinely concerned. It took me a few seconds to understand that what was happening was actually real. Confused and still with a headache, I replied, "Ma''am, my name is not PJ. My name is... Wait, what''s my name?" I had forgotten my name. How was it possible to forget my own name? I started having trouble breathing. Not only had I forgotten my name, but Mom and Dad''s names were also not there. The air felt increasingly insufficient, no matter how much air I took into my lungs, I felt like I was suffocating.

    My breathing became erratic. I had to calm myself down because the agitation was making my head hurt even more. Suddenly, the woman embraced my head and calmly said, "PJ, breathe. You hit your head hard while unloading boxes from the moving truck. You''re okay, you need to breathe." She reminded me while holding me in an embrace and gently stroking the back of my head, where I discovered the source of the pain.

    The woman stood up and with a concerned look on her face, she asked again, "Are you okay? PJ, do you want to go to the hospital?"

    I couldn''t process what she was saying. Who was PJ, and why was she still calling me that? Where was I? Where was the hospital, the nurses, the doctors? Hadn''t I died? What was happening? The headache only intensified as I asked myself these questions, and my expression must have shown it because the woman became even more worried when she didn''t receive a response.

    Determined, the woman turned on her heels and entered the house at a brisk pace, which I just realized was to my right. We were in a neighborhood nothing like what I was used to in Los Angeles or Boston. There were American flags on every porch, and in one of the houses, there was a Texan flag, so I assumed I might be in Texas. How the hell did I end up in Texas? I could hear chickens in the distance, and the parked cars nearby were old but relatively well-maintained. They looked like the cars that were in fashion before I entered medical school.

    Behind me was a partially open cardboard box with photo frames protruding from the tears. I picked up one of the photos, and it showed a family ¨C two adult figures, probably the parents, one of them being the woman who was inside the house, along with three young children, two boys, one of whom was a baby, and a girl. They were posing in front of a very different house from the nearby one. The woman looked much younger, and although the two young boys in the photograph seemed annoyed, it was evident that the family was very close-knit.

    "Can I keep your comics if you die?" I heard suddenly behind me. Surprised, I quickly turned my head, causing even more pain in my neck. It was a young boy, around ten years old. Intrigued, I replied, "My comics?" I''ve never owned any comics. I don''t know what this kid is talking about.

    Clearly surprised by not receiving the response he expected, the boy furrowed his brow for a few seconds and then, as if someone had just told him great news, he smiled and said, "Never mind, it was a joke. Well, I''m going to unpack MY comics," holding a box in his hands that I hadn''t noticed he had. He proceeded towards the house that the woman had entered just a few seconds ago.

    Before the boy could reach the porch of the house, the door swung open with a furious teenager storming out. "Gabe, you''re out here. Mom''s yelling at you inside the house," said the angry teenager, marching towards the boxes that were already on the moving truck. "Moving to Texas, what a great idea! Let''s ignore that Teddy was happy in Colorado. My best friend lives 800 miles away. Spencer finally talked to me, but hey! Dad got a great job in Texas, yay! No one thinks about me or my needs," she said with an obvious sarcastic tone.

    "Oh, really? Try being the younger brother. They barely acknowledge my existence," shouted the boy named Gabe, standing a few inches from the house''s door.

    Suddenly, the door of the house swung open again, pushing Gabe a few steps back. The woman, presumably the mother of the children, rushed out searching inside her bag until she pulled out a set of keys. "Teddy, I''m taking PJ to the hospital. Take care of Gabe until your father arrives. I don''t know where he is; I can''t find him anywhere. When your dad comes back, tell him PJ had an accident and we had to go to the emergency room. I''ll wait for you at the hospital," she said as she helped me stand and dragged me to the vehicle parked alongside the moving truck.

    "I''ve been here the whole time! And sure, Mom, I forgive you for hitting me with the door," Gabe sarcastically said in a annoyed tone as he entered the house and slammed the door.

    The woman opened the passenger door and helped me get in, fastening my seatbelt as well. She jogged to the driver''s door, opened it, but without getting into the car, she yelled to the teenager, "Take care of your brother."

    The ride to the hospital was anything but quiet. The woman didn''t stop talking for a single moment. "This is good; I know they had their friends in Colorado, their schools, basically their lives," she began, shedding a few tears. "But here, we can start over. The opportunity your father got was too good to turn down. I spoke with the head nurse at the hospital, and I''ll start working next week. It''ll be like home," she continued, now genuinely crying. "I don''t know what''s happening to me. I''ve been so sentimental since we left Colorado." I didn''t know how to talk to her, so I decided to stay silent. "I know you miss Emmet and that there''s no replacement for your best friend, but I know the neighbors have a son your age. They even have twins Gabe''s age," she continued talking, and I just listened. Everything she said made me more nervous. My dad had died years ago. Who was Emmet? I didn''t have any friends since elementary school. Why would the neighbors'' son be my age? Gabe, the weird kid with the comics?

    After that, the rest of the journey was relatively quiet. The woman continued shedding tears and crying at times. After a few minutes, we arrived at the hospital, at the emergency room. After registering me, the woman went to speak with the nurses there, seemingly introducing herself.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The pain was diminishing, but everything that happened in the span of several minutes left me thinking deeply. I don''t understand who these people are. "PJ Duncan," I heard the woman shout at me. I had spaced out and hadn''t noticed her. She was next to me, taking a pill with a small glass of water. "It''s medication for nausea," she told me, noticing my gaze. "I got a little dizzy on the way here," she said, putting on a serious expression. "You worry me a bit, PJ. You haven''t said much since the accident. You don''t seem like yourself. You haven''t made a single silly joke in several minutes, only that stupid amnesia joke. ''Ma''am, my name isn''t PJ,''" she said, mocking the last part.

    "Actually, my name isn''t PJ, and I don''t know where I am," I said, a little annoyed by the situation. It wasn''t a joke.

    Her expression changed, becoming much more serious than before, with touches of concern. It seemed like she wanted to say something else, but "Duncan, PJ Duncan, examination room 2."

    Before I could react, she dragged me into an examination room. The attending physician examined my head while the woman explained what had happened. "I don''t see any superficial wounds. Nonetheless, we''ll run some tests, and I''d like you to stay overnight for observation," the doctor said. The woman nodded and said, "Yes, doctor, whatever is necessary. But there''s something that worries me. PJ claims to remember nothing. I thought it was a joke at first, but apparently, it''s not, and PJ doesn''t have the... patience for that kind of prank."

    "We''ll do a CT scan, and if there''s anything to be concerned about, it''ll show up there. It''s uncommon, but it''s possible for a case of head trauma like this to generate temporary amnesia. If memory loss occurred, it could return at any moment. There''s nothing to worry about."

    The tests happened quickly, and before I knew it, I was back in a hospital room, waiting for the results. Alone in the room with the woman, I started to feel truly anxious because she wouldn''t stop asking me questions like, "Don''t you remember me? I''m your mom," or questions about a life I didn''t live. I had never been to Colorado, didn''t know anyone named Emmet, Teddy, Gabe, or Bob. My name wasn''t PJ. The overload of information caused another small panic attack, and somehow, I managed to escape from the woman claiming to be my mother by running into the bathroom in the room. And here I was, locked in the bathroom, looking at the mirror in such astonishment that I couldn''t feel my body or the body of the teenager.

    He was tall, skinny, with messy blonde hair. He seemed to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. Obviously, that''s why he smelled so bad. Poor hygiene. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a Rock band t-shirt on top. The clothes were stained with substances I wasn''t sure about touching. Once again, as if I were locked in a room without oxygen, I began to struggle for breath. This wasn''t me. Who is this person? Why am I controlling his body? Why is this happening? Nothing makes sense. How is it possible that something like this is happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?

    And suddenly, it hit me. I knew it. Before I died, I had wished for a second chance. Is it possible that I''ve stolen the body of a teenager? My wish caused a teenage boy to lose his life. This couldn''t be happening to me. I didn''t want someone to lose their life so that I could live it. What should I do? How can I return the body to its rightful owner? Maybe, if I were to die again, I could return the body.

    Scared but determined, I controlled my breathing and stepped out of the bathroom. As soon as I did, a big man pulled me into his arms tightly. "Take it easy, son. I know you''re scared. Your mom and I will be here to help you. You''re not alone," he said. Then, more arms joined the embrace¡ªone pair after another¡ªand they all offered comforting words simultaneously.

    I couldn''t remember the last time I had been hugged like this. I started crying, and even if it was just for this moment, I let myself go and hugged them all back. The mother of this body, upon noticing my tears, cried loudly alongside me. "I love you so much, PJ. I love you all. I don''t know what I would do without you. I''m so happy that we''re all hugging, but I''m sorry for PJ, and even sadder that we had to move. I''m sorry, kids. I know you didn''t want to leave Colorado. It''s my fault. Everything is my fault."

    "Haha, honey, don''t say that. It''s not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it should be me," said Bob, or the father of this body, dismissing the guilt of the mother of his children.

    "You''re right. It''s all your fault! If you hadn''t found this great opportunity, we would still be in Colorado, happy," the mother of this body suddenly exploded, pushing Bob. Everyone was surprised by the sudden change in her attitude, including me. The room fell completely silent. No one wanted to say anything, until...

    "You might need to learn how to read again. Anyway, you didn''t do it enough, so I can share my comic books with you if you want," Gabe said, causing the suddenly furious woman to let out a small laugh that turned into laughter, which spread to the other people in the room.

    The laughter was interrupted by the entrance of the attending physician, holding what were possibly the CT scan results in his hand. The room fell silent as the doctor reviewed the papers in his hand. With a nod, the doctor spoke, "Everything looks fine. There doesn''t seem to be any major problem. Memory loss can be caused by shock, so it''s possible for it to return at any moment. We need to stay positive. Nevertheless, I''d like you to stay here tonight for observation, just in case. If all goes well, you could be ready for discharge tomorrow morning." After delivering the good news, the doctor bid farewell, accepting the family''s gratitude, and left the room.

    With the news given, the parents breathed a sigh of relief and hugged me again. "I''m so glad you''re okay, son," said Bob, who was hugging me the tightest. "Well, now that everything''s fine, I have to go. We still have to unpack the boxes from the truck. Let''s go, kids."

    Bob and the children said their goodbyes and left the mother and me alone in the room, still embracing.

    "I''m so relieved that nothing serious happened. Let''s hope you regain your memory. If not, it''s okay, PJ. We still love you. I don''t know what I would have done if something bad had happened to you or any of your siblings. I love you all so much, and..." She suddenly cut off, "Ugh," she said with disgust as she pushed me away and ran to the bathroom in the room, presumably to vomit.

    Do I deserve the love of this family? I can''t take my own life. What will happen if I don''t return the body to the original PJ? It would devastate this beautiful family. I''m not the one to take their son away from them.

    "PJ, if it was truly my fault to obtain your body, your life, I apologize to you. I don''t know how to give it back, but if I knew, I would do it in an instant. I promise you, I will live your life as I promised I would. Your family will be my family, and I will love them as such. I will fulfill my dream in honor of any dream you had, and I will be happy. I will experience, feel, and confront my fears. I''m sorry. And thank you," I said quietly with my eyes closed.

    "Ugh!" I heard again from the bathroom, so I hurried in to help. I stood behind her to hold her hair. "Thanks, PJ. I think all the stress of this day made me vomit."

    "You''re welcome, Mom, you''re welcome," I said as I stroked her back.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Author''s thoughts

    Again, I''m not a doctor.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 3

    The night at the hospital was very calm, with the anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving medications they administered, the pain disappeared quickly during the night, allowing me to have a pleasant sleep.

    The next day, my mom and I were in the hospital room meeting with the doctor. He was conducting the final examination to authorize my discharge.

    "Everything seems to be fine, Mr. Duncan. Does it hurt if I touch this area?" said the doctor as he gently touched the general area of the bruise with two fingers. "A little, but I can bear it, doctor," I replied.

    "Perfect, well, that would be all. Some recommendations would be to take the prescribed painkillers if the pain returns, and if anything more serious than the pain occurs, come immediately. That would include dizziness, vomiting, or vision problems. For now, that''s all with you, PJ. Now, if you don''t mind, please leave the room for a moment. I have some matters to discuss with your mother. It won''t take long."

    Thanking the doctor, I left the room and headed towards the waiting area. As I reached a corner, a little kid stumbled into me, "Oof," I heard after feeling the impact. There on the floor was a little boy, no more than 5 years old, holding his head as he had collided with my hip.

    "Sorry, little buddy, I didn''t see where I was going," I said as I helped him up.

    "It''s okay, I''m not hurt. I''m very strong," the boy said while smiling and flexing his imaginary biceps.

    Laughing at the child''s cuteness, I let him continue on his way. But something caught my attention about his gait. Something wasn''t right, I thought. His walk was very unstable, and he kept tripping over nothing but his own feet.

    "Wait, kid!" I stopped him quickly but gently. "What''s your name?" Surprised, the boy turned and looked me in the eyes as he replied, "I''m Oliver, nice to meet you," extending his hand to introduce himself. However, I noticed that besides being a well-mannered boy, his hand was misdirected towards me, as if he had aimed wrong. That wasn''t a good sign.

    "Hello, Oliver, nice to meet you too. Can I ask why you came here today?"

    "Sure, while playing Superman, I fell off my bed and hit my head. My mom got very scared, but the doctor said I''m fine, so there''s no problem. You know, I''m very brave. I hardly cried when I fell because I barely felt it. Like I said, I''m really strong," Oliver said, smiling.

    "Wow, impressive, Oliver. Hey, I noticed that your eyes are special, like Superman''s. Do you mind if I take a closer look at them?" I crouched down to his level and asked.

    "Sure," the boy said as he comically opened his eyes wider, trying to help me see better.

    They were beautiful, big green eyes, but that''s not why I asked to see them. As I suspected, one of his pupils was dilated while the other was not. This is a problem, and it had to be here, of all places. Mom is going to work here. Why does there have to be a negligent doctor?

    "As I thought, Oliver, you have eyes like Superman. Hey, would you mind taking me to where your mom is? I''d like to apologize to her too for accidentally bumping into you. I don''t want to be a bad person you know. Would you help me with that, Superman?" I said as I got back on my feet.

    Perplexed, the boy seemed to think for a moment until he made up his mind and nodded, saying, "Sure, PJ, come with me. Mom was with the doctor. I had to go to the bathroom, but since I''m a big boy now, I can go by myself." The boy chatted with a cheerful expression as we walked towards the doctor''s offices. Once again, I noticed his unsteady walk; it seemed like he couldn''t measure his steps properly, constantly stumbling and having to correct the direction he was walking as he got closer to the wall on one side.

    Upon reaching one of the last offices, the door was open, and inside, there was a woman, presumably Oliver''s mom, and a doctor. Oliver ran as soon as he saw his mother and jumped into her arms, narrowly avoiding the door frame and the chair legs where the woman was sitting. The doctor looked completely exhausted, with dark bags under his eyes, drooping eyelids, messy hair, and holding his head in pain. It wasn''t hard to see why is that he had ignored clear symptoms of an Epidural Hematoma.

    When the two adults noticed me standing at the door, they looked intrigued by my presence.

    "Hello there, you must be Oliver''s mom. We bumped into each other accidentally in the hallway, and I came to apologize and accompany him to you, although he''s already a big boy," I quickly explained.

    "Yes, I''m a big boy. I didn''t need PJ to accompany me, but he didn''t want to be a bad person, so as Superman, it''s my duty to help people," the boy hurriedly added, trying to contribute to the adult conversation.

    "Ah, thank you very much, PJ, and you too, Superman. This boy has so much energy, he disappeared suddenly. I''m glad a responsible young man like you found him," the grateful woman said.

    "Excuse me, Doctor, I have a question about Oliver," I said, forcing a smile towards the doctor. "Is it normal for him to walk with a loss of balance?" I asked, trying hard to conceal my anger.

    "Of course, it''s normal. Little Oliver is still growing, so it may seem like he loses balance when he''s actually just walking. Besides, as his mom mentioned, he''s a very energetic boy, so he''s probably just playing around."

    "I see. It just seemed strange to me that Oliver walks unsteadily and keeps tripping over his own feet. Well, you''re the doctor, and I''m not. It just struck me as odd. It was nice meeting you, Superman, ma''am," I said, bidding farewell, taking a few steps outside, pretending to remember something suddenly, and then returned, "By the way, ma''am, how interesting that Oliver has eyes of different sizes," I said, speaking to the woman while keeping my eyes fixed on the treating doctor.

    Straightening up in his chair and for the first time since I entered the room, widening his eyes, the doctor looked at me seriously and said, "What do you mean, one eye bigger than the other?" "Yes, didn''t you notice? His right eye seems slightly larger than the left one. What was the word for it?" I continued before the doctor interrupted me with a tone of concern, "Dilated?"

    "That''s it, ''dilated.'' His right eye is more dilated than the left one, just a bit, but you can notice it if you really pay attention," I emphasized the last part.

    "Is that normal, Doctor?" the worried mother now asked, hugging her little son.

    The doctor, now even more surprised, quickly stood up from his chair to examine the child''s eyes. "This can''t be, even in the MRI, there was nothing. There were no symptoms, no vomiting, no headaches, just a slight dizziness. The X-rays also came out..." he said while examining Oliver before suddenly falling silent, realizing that one of his eyes was more dilated than the other. He quickly reached for the phone on his desk and called for an operating room, asking the now extremely worried mother to accompany him out of the office. The hesitant mother left her son in one of the chairs inside the room and asked me to watch over him for a moment.

    "Are you alright, PJ? You seem a little upset," said Oliver, with whom I now found myself alone in the room. "Yes, I''m better now. Listen, Oliver, you have to be brave like Superman for your mom," I said to the child.

    Suddenly, Oliver''s mother entered the room looking furious until she saw me, then she relaxed a bit and hugged me, saying, "Thank you so much, PJ. I don''t know what would have happened if you hadn''t noticed earlier." After saying goodbye, she took Oliver with her and said, "We''ll see another doctor here at the hospital. They need to check something else in your head, Oli. Let''s go."

    With a smile, Oliver said goodbye to me and holding his mother''s hand, they left the room.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    A moment after the family of two left the room, the doctor entered. "Young man, can I have a moment of your time?" he said, sitting down in his chair behind his desk and gesturing for me to take a seat. "How did you know about Oliver and his need for help? I noticed your enthusiasm when talking to me and, if I may say, your anger," he asked seriously.

    "Doctor, I also hit my head, so I obviously asked what could have been the worst-case scenario resulting from the impact and what symptoms it would have. I noticed that Oliver had some of those symptoms, but what concerned me the most were his pupils. I deduced that he had an Epidural Hematoma due to the difference in the size of his pupils and the way he was staggering while walking. I found it surprising that no one else noticed," I replied, lying a little about the reasons I knew what was happening to Oliver and once again with a hint of annoyance in my voice.

    "I understand you''re upset with me, but yesterday was a tough day for me. I have responsibilities that a young person like you couldn''t comprehend. I ignored Oliver''s symptoms, but I already apologized to his mother, and now I want to thank you."

    A tough day, huh? On his desk, there was a large bottle of water, and he looked tired. The partially closed windows suggest he''s sensitive to light, and he''s sweating despite the air conditioning in the office. If I had to bet, his blood pressure is high, and his tough day is probably related to alcohol, I thought to myself.

    "Whatever, see you, doctor," now truly annoyed, I got up from the chair and headed to the door to leave the office.

    "You seem to have a very bright future ahead. I recommend you study medicine. With such attention to detail, you''d be a great doctor," the doctor said with a smile, probably thinking I accepted his gratitude.

    "Yes, I hope to be a great doctor who won''t risk the lives of small children by negligently doing what should be a well-done job," I said and then slammed the door, making a loud noise. I hope my theory is correct, and he really has a hangover. Such a loud and sudden noise must hurt a lot.

    When I arrived at the waiting room, Mom was already there, waiting. She seemed shocked, with unfocused eyes staring into space. Worried, I approached her, "Mom, are you alright?" I asked. "Oh, PJ, there you are. Where were you?" she said, completely ignoring my question. "I had to quickly go to the bathroom, but everything''s fine now. We can go," I replied.

    On the way back home, I tried to figure out the reason why Mom Amy seemed so worried in the waiting room, but nothing worked. During the short time I''ve known her, I''ve noticed how much she talks. Now, with her not saying a word throughout the car ride while we were completely alone, and me trying to start a conversation, I was very concerned.

    Upon arriving home, I noticed that the moving truck was no longer there. Bob, Teddy, and Gabe must have finished unloading everything. "Your father is not home. I don''t see his horrible truck anywhere," Mom suddenly said.

    As she parked the car, Mom started crying again. I couldn''t understand what was happening or why she had these sudden mood swings. But then, thinking about everything that happened since yesterday, it hit me. Of course! How could I call myself a capable doctor if I didn''t notice it immediately? "You''re pregnant!" I exclaimed excitedly. Mom was taken aback, and she quickly turned her face towards me, shouting, "How do you know? No, wait, pregnant? At my age? No, erase that too. I''m too young, of course, I could get pregnant again, but pregnant right now? No!" She stumbled through each word, clearly flustered.

    With a sly smile, I said, "Calm down, Mom, breathe. Everything will be fine. Of course, you''re young, and of course, you''re pregnant. What great news! I''m going to be a big brother again," although, truthfully, in my memories, I had never experienced what it''s like to be a big brother. This would be the first time, and that''s why I was so excited, but I couldn''t tell Mom that.

    After a few seconds of thinking, Mom started crying again. "Oh, PJ, you can''t tell anyone, not your dad, and especially not your siblings. Teddy is already upset about the move, and I don''t know if I want her to get even more upset about a new baby. When Gabe was born, she got really angry. Do you remember, uh...?" she said, suddenly remembering that I had "amnesia."

    Placing my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, I assured her, "Don''t worry, Mom, I won''t tell anyone, but at some point, you''ll have to."

    "Yes, you''re right. Thank you, PJ," she said gratefully while hugging me again. We remained silent in the car for a few seconds until Mom seemed to remember something. Pulling away from the hug, she said, "Wait a minute, how do you know that I''m..." She was about to finish her sentence when a knock on the driver''s window startled her. "Mom, I''m hungry. Dad didn''t give me any food, and Teddy is locked in her new room, not talking to anyone," Gabe yelled from outside the car, pressing against the window.

    Startled and perhaps worried that Gabe might have overheard about her pregnancy, Mom shouted a bit annoyed, "Gabe, for God''s sake, you scared me. Get back into the house right now!" Seeing that they ignored her request, Gabe walked away from the car, exasperated, muttering, "Of course, ignore the hungry child," as he returned to the house.

    With a hand on her chest, trying to calm her breathing, Mom said, "What was I saying?" She thought for a moment and said, "Oh, I remembered..." But I didn''t let her finish. "I don''t know, Mom, but I have to go unpack my things. I lost a lot of time yesterday," I said, opening the car door and quickly getting out. "Gabe, wait!" I yelled as I trotted inside the house.

    I couldn''t catch up to Gabe inside the house, and I didn''t know where he was. Searching through the rooms, I found the one that I thought would be my room, which I knew I''d be sharing with Gabe. Two beds were in the room, one with heaps of unopened boxes on it, and the other had a few comic books scattered around it.

    At the foot of the bed that I claimed as mine were three guitars, two electric and one acoustic. From PJ''s clothes and the conversations with Mom last night, I knew PJ had a rock band called "PJ and the Vibe" with his friend Emmet. Music was never my thing, but I would like to find something that I''m passionate about, just like PJ is about his band. I promised myself to live this life better, and that includes having a hobby. Music definitely isn''t it, but maybe something else.

    While unpacking the boxes, I noticed that PJ really seemed to care little about his personal hygiene. The boxes marked as clean clothes were filled with smelly clothes. There was also a box marked as dirty clothes; I wondered if whatever was inside could be classified as a chemical weapon. All this lack of hygiene reminded me of how I lived in my apartment in California in my previous life. As a result, I felt the need to change it. The first thing I need is a haircut and a new wardrobe, for which I need money. Thinking about how to earn money, I noticed the guitars at the foot of my bed.

    If I''m not going to use them, someone else should. Looking at Gabe''s bed and remembering how this family seemed to forget him a bit in the time I''ve known them, I left the guitars on his bed. Maybe he''d want to learn to play music.

    After finishing unpacking PJ''s things, now mine, I remembered that I not only have Gabe as a brother. So I left my room to see if I could help my now sister feel better in her new home. Surely, the closed door was her room.

    Knocking loudly on the door, as there was loud music coming from inside, I shouted, "Teddy, it''s PJ. Open up."

    "PJ, let me talk to her. After all, I''m a cool mom," Mom suddenly said from behind me, guiding me away from her path. "You go and find Gabe. I saw him leave the house. I hope he''s not bothering the neighbors like he did with Mrs. Dabney back in Colorado."

    I left the house and headed to the neighbor''s house. Conveniently, their garage door was open, so I entered to see if Gabe was there.

    Gabe wasn''t there, but another boy of his age was playing with what looked like a miniature remote-controlled train.

    "Wow, your toy is cool. A mini train," I said, taking a small building from his table to get a better look. "Please don''t touch anything!, and who are you?" said the boy with a high-pitched voice.

    "Shelly dinners rady!," a woman''s voice came from the house, probably this boy''s mother.

    "I''m PJ ''Shelly,'' and we just moved here. I''m looking for my brother. Haven''t you seen him around here?" I asked the boy, who had a clear look of annoyance on his face. He came closer and snatched the toy building from my hands, carefully placing it back where I took it from.

    "Yes, your brother is a very annoying and rude boy named Gabe. Presumably, he''s inside my house, sitting at the table with my family, about to have dinner by invitation from my twin sister, and please don''t call me Shelly. My mom, and just my mom, can do that, maybe Memaw too, but she prefers Moonpie" he replied.

    "Sheldon, if you don''t get in here, I''m gonna lick your toothbrush," a girl''s voice shouted from inside the house.

    "A pleasure to meet you. Please get out of here and don''t touch anything else. Your hands are full of germs," he said before rushing inside the house. "Coming!" he shouted as he entered.

    What a strange child, he seems like an adult trapped in a child''s body. Oh, the irony.

    -------------------------------------------------------

    Author''s thoughts

    I am not a doctor, and I don''t fully understand how the American medical system works, correct. The neighbors are indeed the Cooper family from ''Young Sheldon,'' which you can watch on Paramount Plus. In case someone doesn''t know, the protagonist is the eldest son from the Disney Channel series ''Good Luck Charlie,'' which you can watch on Disney Plus. The family will only serve as a background for the protagonist since the series already exists. I will only take the personalities of the characters, but the same events from the series won''t happen (otherwise, what''s the point of writing fanfiction?). Some things might be similar, but obviously not identical, and others will change completely. If you have any suggestions, I''m all ears (or eyes, actually, as I''ll be reading them).

    And if you didn''t notice yet, the timeline is already altered. The events happening in this story take place one year later than they are supposed to in ''Young Sheldon'' (1990), just to be clear.

    If you find any errors, I would appreciate it if you let me know.

    (If anyone knows where Oliver''s idea came from, he wins a prize [obviously there is no prize])

 Daily Drama - Chapter 4

    Following the boy to the door frame, I knocked to try to get someone''s attention inside the house.

    The spitting image of a 90''s Texan housewife appeared in the corridor in front of that door. When she noticed the door was open and there was a stranger standing there, the woman seemed greatly surprised, as if she was about to scream for help, so I interrupted.

    "Hello!, sorry, the door was open. A moment ago, I was talking to Sheldon, and he told me my brother Gabe was here. By the way, I''m PJ Duncan. We just moved into the house next door," I quickly introduced myself with a friendly smile to avoid alarming the woman.

    With much more calmness on her face, the woman said, "I see, yes, your brother was here playing with Missy. Hasn''t he gone back home?" She said with a Texan accent.

    "No, Mom asked me to come look for him," I replied with a smile to the kind woman.

    "Mary! Who''s at the door?" a man''s voice was heard from inside the house.

    "It''s PJ Duncan, from the new neighbors. He''s here looking for his brother!" the Texan woman shouted back, "Come on in, please. Let''s go find your brother," she said, this time addressing me with a much calmer tone.

    It didn''t take long to find Gabe; he was sitting next to a little girl, chatting cheerfully, seemingly ignoring the curious gazes of the other people in the house.

    "Good afternoon, nice to meet you all. I''m PJ Duncan. We just moved in a few days ago," I introduced myself to the people at the table.

    "Nice to meet you, PJ. I''m George Cooper," the man sitting at the head of the table replied.

    The young man nodded slightly as a greeting, saying "Georgie."

    Smiling at the new family members, I turned to my brother, "Gabe, we have to go. Mom is looking for you."

    "PJ, I''m having dinner with the Coopers. Missy invited me," Gabe said with a smile, pointing to the little girl next to him.

    "That''s right, I invited him. He said he was hungry, so I thought, as good Christians, we should invite him to eat, right, Mom?" Missy said, looking at her mother with puppy eyes.

    Seemingly aware of her weakness, the woman replied with some difficulty, "You''re absolutely right, Missy Cooper. In fact, PJ, why don''t you go and tell your mom that, as a Texas welcome, they''re invited to dinner?" I heard Mr. Cooper choking on the beer he was drinking.

    "I wouldn''t want to be a bother, Mrs. Cooper," I was saying until she interrupted me, "Nonsense, it''s no trouble at all. I cooked way more than necessary; I was planning to bring it as a welcome gift, but since Gabe wants to have dinner with us, what better way to get to know each other than having dinner together?" she said as she led me towards the entrance we came through.

    "If you insist, with your permission," I said, making way outside.

    In the front yard, parked beside my mom''s car, was a hideous yellow truck. On its driver''s side door was a sticker with the slogan "Bob''s Bugs Be Gone," and on the hood was a giant insect resembling an ant. Ignoring the truck, I entered the house.

    "Mom!" I called out as soon as I entered. A few meters from the door, Bob was sitting on a couch watching TV while drinking a beer. Startled by my shout, he jumped up from the couch and asked, "PJ, what''s going on?" "Oh, hi, Dad. The Coopers, our neighbors, invited us for dinner. I was just about to let Mom know. When did you get here?" I replied. Bob quickly grabbed the TV remote to turn it off, downed the remaining beer in one gulp, and excitedly said, "Great! I''ll go find your mother. For some reason, she wants to cook, and you know how bad she is in the kitchen. You go get your sister, hurry up, and meet us at the door in 30 seconds," he said as he rushed to the kitchen. Is Mom''s cooking really that bad?

    Teddy''s room remained closed with music playing inside. The music was much quieter than before. I waited outside with two quick knocks until I heard, "Come in," from inside. "What''s up?" Teddy asked, not taking her eyes off a paper on her bed, where he had even more photographs.

    Teddy''s room was surprisingly decorated, despite being here as long as Gabe and being the most reluctant to leave Colorado. The room was completely personalized with photographs covering one of the walls, all showing Teddy with, I suppose, her best friend in Colorado. There were posters of celebrities I didn''t recognize on the other walls, and her half-open closet was filled with clothes and other accessories.

    "We''re going to have dinner with the Coopers; they invited us over to their house," I said, adding, "They are the neighbors next door," as I realized Teddy might not know who the Coopers were. "What''s that you have there?" I asked, sitting on the corner of her bed and pointing to the paper she held in her hands. "It''s a letter I''m writing to Ivy. Mom reminded me that I could write to her to tell her what''s happening here. It''ll be like a diary. I think I''ll call it ''What''s up Ivy,''" she said with self-approval.

    When we arrived at the Cooper''s house, Mom, for some reason, disappointed that she couldn''t cook, knocked on the front door. A few seconds later, Mr. Cooper opened the door to greet us. "Hi, nice to meet you. I''m Amy Duncan; I met your wife the day we moved in," Mom introduced herself. "Nice to meet you too, I''m George Cooper. Please come in," Mr. Cooper said, leading the way into his house. "Hey, I''m Bob Duncan. I brought these; didn''t want to come empty-handed," Bob said, handing over a pack of beers and shaking hands in greeting.

    After the adults and Teddy introduced themselves, we entered the house. When I came to Gabe''s house for the first time, I noticed that there were only two available chairs at the table, so I wasn''t surprised to see the three younger children sitting at a small table next to the main one. Gabe and Missy seemed happy, chatting with each other, but Sheldon looked very upset for some reason. "Mom, I told you, I can sit at the adult table; that''s my place," he said, pointing out that there would be an extra seat at the adult table, as he called it.

    "You can''t sit at the adult table because you''re still a crying baby," Missy quickly replied, "Yeah, you''re afraid of birds; you can''t sit with the adults if you''re not an adult," Gabe added.

    "Missy Cooper! Don''t bother your brother," Mrs. Cooper scolded her daughter.

    "You too, Gabe, behave," Amy reprimanded her son.

    "But Mom, I have better manners than Georgie at the table, so I find it unfair that he can sit at the adult table, and I can''t," Sheldon said again in a high-pitched tone.

    Seeing her husband, who just shrugged, not knowing what to say or how to help, Mrs. Cooper sighed and said, "Alright, Shelly, come here." Taking her cutlery and plate carefully, Sheldon found his own place in one of the corners of the table, sat down, and with a satisfied look, he looked at his younger siblings and said, "Who''s the baby now?"

    Surprisingly coordinated, Gabe and Missy said at the same time, "You!" and continued their conversation.

    "Please, have a seat wherever you like," Mrs. Cooper said, already seated in front of her youngest son and next to the eldest one, who was the only one that hadn''t said a word during the interaction. He seemed dazed, staring at Teddy, who felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

    "Thank you, nice to meet you, by the way. I''m Bob Duncan; we hadn''t met before," Bob said, shaking Mrs. Cooper''s hand and taking a seat next to Sheldon. I let Teddy sit next to him, and I sat at the other end of the table, in front of Mr. Cooper, who was at the head. "Let Mrs. Duncan sit here, Georgie," Mrs. Cooper urged her son to move seats. "Amy, please, how have you been? I haven''t seen you since we moved in," Mom said, taking the seat that young Georgie had vacated and now facing Teddy, who still maintained eye contact.

    "Thank you, Amy. Gabe told us that PJ got hurt during the move. How''s everything?" Mrs. Cooper asked, concerned.

    Everything is fine; PJ didn''t have any serious injuries, just a minor memory loss. But we hope he''ll recover it soon. According to the doctor, it''s uncommon, but this memory loss is usually temporary in most cases," Mom said with a calm smile to Mrs. Cupper.

    "In fact, data shows that there''s a 79.5% chance he''ll never recover his memory. Studies even demonstrate that memory loss due to trauma can lead to mental issues in the long run," Sheldon said petulantly and so fast that his mom couldn''t stop him.

    A sudden silence fell as the people outside the Cooper family looked at the well-dressed boy, perplexed.

    "Sheldon Cooper, apologize right now, young man!" Mary shouted, suddenly upset with her younger son, who, surprised, retorted, "But I''m not lying; it''s what the numbers say." It seemed like Mary was about to explode again, while Mr. Cooper hid behind his beer, smiling sheepishly at Bob.

    "You''re adopted, admit it," Georgie suddenly said to his mother.

    "How can I be adopted when I have a twin sister? Think, monkey, think," he petulantly replied, seeming to have forgotten about his brother''s scolding.

    "That''s enough; no one is adopted," Mrs. Cooper said, pointing first at her eldest son. "And young man, I thought I told you to apologize," she said, now accusingly looking at her younger son, causing Sheldon''s face to scrunch up in disbelief.

    "It''s alright, Mrs. Cooper. No harm done. He is right; it''s what the numbers say. But I feel positive; I highly doubt the impact affected my brain," I quickly said, trying to calm Mrs. Cooper with a smile, which seemed to ease her a bit as she noticed my indifference.

    "Anyway, young man, I don''t want to hear any more facts during dinner, or there will be no ''Doctor Troton'' for a week," Mrs. Cooper said, annoyed, pointing again, but this time at her younger son.

    Surprised, Sheldon seemed like he wanted to correct something in Mrs. Cooper''s sentence, but upon seeing the annoyance in his mother''s eyes, he reconsidered and stayed silent.

    "Now let''s pray. Missy Cooper, come here," Mrs. Cooper said firmly, pointing to the space between her husband and herself. Seeing what was happening, Amy quickly said, "You too, Gabe, come here."

    One by one, we held hands, except for Sheldon, who said, "Just a moment, please," and put on a pair of woolen gloves.

    Mr. Cooper seemed exasperated, but his embarrassment won out, and with a sheepish smile, he took his gloved son''s hand.

    With everyone holding hands, the Cooper family closed their eyes, and Mary said, "Thank you, God, for this meal we''re about to receive and for the nourishment of our bodies. Bless the hands that prepared it." As the Cooper family kept their eyes closed, the Duncans weren''t quite sure what they were supposed to do, looking at each other until, in unison, the Coopers said, "Amen." A second later, the Duncans followed suit, released their hands, and began eating as the children returned to their table.

    As everyone ate, there was a lot of silence; no one said anything while chewing their food. Georgie, still staring at Teddy, absentmindedly ate his mashed potatoes, making a mess of his face in the process.

    "So, George, what do you do for a living?" Bob asked, breaking the ice.

    "I''m the football coach at Medford High School," Mr. Cooper replied.

    "Oh, really? PJ will start there on Monday," a surprised Amy said. "Maybe he can try out for the team," she added, looking at me with hope.

    "Do you like football, PJ?" Mr. Cooper asked skeptically. "Georgie will also go to Medford, and he''ll try out. Maybe you can try out together," he said, a little loudly, getting his son''s attention and giving him a stern look, causing him to snap out of his daydream and respond, "Ah, sure, we can try out together," nodding slightly in my direction.

    "In fact, my Shelly is a bit advanced for his age, and he''ll also start on Monday with you. I''m glad he won''t only have Georgie to look after him but also PJ. Isn''t that exciting?" Mrs. Cooper said.

    "I am," Sheldon said, raising his hand.

    "Really? But he''s not the same age as Gabe. That''s impressive. Congratulations, Sheldon," Mom said.

    "Yes, I''m a little excited, I guess. Starting at a new school will be like starting from scratch, almost literally," I chuckled a bit. "And what about you, Georgie? Aren''t you excited for your freshman year? That''s a big deal," Mrs. Cooper asked.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "How can I be excited when he''ll be in the same grade as me?" Georgie pointed to his younger brother.

    "Relax, Georgie, I don''t plan on staying in ninth grade for long," the youngest one replied calmly.

    "All I know is that he won''t be in the same grade as me anymore, and I love that, isn''t that right, Gabe?" Missy said, speaking from the kids'' table. "No, I would have loved to see him freaking out, making fake bird noises," Gabe mocked Sheldon.

    "Well, good luck with your finger paintings," Sheldon retorted, trying to playfully return the joke.

    "You''re gonna get your ass kicked in high school," affirmed Missy. "Or worse," Gabe said, smiling sinisterly.

    I couldn''t help it, and a laugh escaped me due to the whole situation. Teddy, infected by my laughter, also laughed, making the laughter spread around the table, except for Mrs. Cooper, who, upon seeing Missy, shouted, "Hey, language!" Realizing that she should also say something since Gabe was teasing Sheldon, Mom said, "Gabe, stop bothering Sheldon; he''s a very tender boy. No one will bully him."

    "If no one''s going to mug me, High School is a haven for higher learning," Sheldon said, as if stating the obvious.

    "Oh dear god," said Mr. Cooper. "Oh dear god indeed," Bob affirmed quietly.

    "Ah, high school, remember, Bob, when we were in school? I was the famous, the acclaimed Whammy the Ram, and you were a great basketball player. Those were the days; South High was a great school. The kids would have gone there, maybe Teddy would have inherited Whammy''s legacy," Mom said, starting to tear up a bit. "I''m sorry, where''s your bathroom, Mary?" she asked, beginning to cry and following the direction Mrs. Cooper had pointed.

    "She''s been very sad about the move. Every time she remembers something, she starts crying. On the way to Texas, everything that reminded her of home was another reason to cry. I hope she adjusts quickly here. I hope you can be her friend, Mary," Bob tried to explain to his wife.

    "Of course, Bob, you don''t have to worry. I''ll be a great friend to Amy, and God help me if we can''t resolve her sadness," Mrs. Cooper declared resolutely.

    "You, Bob, didn''t ask what you do for a living," Mr. Cooper said.

    As if asked a profound question, Bob straightened in his seat and said, "I''m a pest control specialist."

    Sheldon was surprised and turned his head upon hearing about Bob''s job, "Oh, that''s very interesting. Question, do you deal with any kind of pests? And if so, can chickens be considered pests?" Sheldon asked. "A: Yes, I''m the best at whatever my job involves. And B: I don''t think chickens are considered pests," Bob responded, disappointed. Sheldon lowered his head in defeat, only to raise it again a second later. "What about dogs? Dogs are dirty; they eat from the garbage," he said, hoping for a positive response. "I''m sorry, little buddy, but dogs are not considered pests," Sheldon said, now definitely disappointed. "Well, I tried."

    "So, pest control, I''ve heard about the pest problem with the neighbors. Was that why you moved?" Mr. Cooper asked.

    "Yes, a friend of mine had his own company here, but he couldn''t keep up with the amount of work in the restaurants and hotels around the cities. So, he offered me a partnership, and before we knew it, we''re here with a big company," Bob replied, raising his beer bottle in a jovial toast.

    "Well, thank God for that," Mrs. Cooper responded, "It''s thanks to that opportunity that we now know each other," she concluded with a big smile.

    "True," Mom said suddenly, having returned from crying in the bathroom, "Thank God," she repeated.

    "Speaking of God, who will come to church with me tomorrow?" Mrs. Cooper asked.

    "I can''t," Mr. Cooper quickly responded, "I''m meeting with the other coaches."

    "And can''t you meet after church?" she asked with a clearly forced smile.

    "No, Mary, I can''t meet after church," Mr. Cooper answered, exasperated, as he cut a piece of meat on his plate.

    Slightly annoyed by her husband''s response, Mrs. Cooper turned to the next in line in her family, "Georgie?"

    "I''ve got to study my playbook," the teenager replied, winking at his proud father.

    Mrs. Cooper, this time feeling defeated, fixed her gaze on her plate, making the guests at the table uncomfortable, except for Teddy, who had been chatting with Missy about unimportant things for a few minutes.

    "I''ll go with you, Mom," Sheldon said when he noticed that no one would accompany his mother.

    This cheered up Mrs. Cooper, and the atmosphere at the table relaxed a bit.

    "Why are you going, though? You don''t believe in God," Missy suddenly said from her seat at the kids'' table.

    "No, but I believe in Mom," Sheldon proudly replied.

    "I''ll take that," Mrs. Cooper said happily. "Missy?" she asked, "I can''t. Teddy and I were going to..." Mrs. Cooper didn''t let her finish as she said, "you''re going. Besides, Teddy will probably also go to church, right?" she asked, focusing on Amy.

    "No, actually, we don''t go to church. Since when, since our wedding day?" Bob replied, also asking his wife.

    "Yes, the last time we were in a church was on our wedding day."

    With a small gasp of surprise, Mrs. Cooper''s eyes widened, and avoiding Amy''s worried look, she lowered her head and continued eating.

    The dinner after that proceeded normally. George and Bob were the ones who talked the most, promising to watch the upcoming football games together and maybe have a barbecue someday. Amy and Mary shared memories of their youth and events from that time, also promising to meet up for coffee sometime.

    The young ones, on the other hand, only spoke a bit among themselves. PJ and Georgie didn''t have much in common, but being in the same school year and promising to study together for tests gave them a few topics to discuss. Georgie continued to throw furtive glances at Teddy throughout the night, who continued talking to Missy about teenage things. Missy was the one asking most of the questions.

    Feeling excluded by his sister and new friend, Gabe started reading a comic that was quite crumpled, probably kept in one of his pockets.

    Late into the night, Sheldon said, "Mom, it''s time to start the bedtime routine. Can I leave the table?" he asked with his characteristic petulant tone. Mary checked her wristwatch and said, "Look at the time, Missy Cooper, it''s time to brush your teeth and take a shower. We have to go to church early tomorrow."

    Seeing that the Coopers had to prepare for sleep, the Duncans got up from their seats and said goodbye to the family.

    Back at home.

    I was already lying in my bed, waiting for Gabe to turn off the bedroom light.

    "Why are your guitars on my bed?" Gabe asked, standing in the doorway in his pajamas.

    "I decided that being in a new state, I could start as a new me. If you want them, they''re yours," I calmly explained to my brother, who seemed surprised by the gesture. Holding one of the guitars and inspecting it closely, he said, "Really? They''re yours, and you never let me touch them?" he asked, incredulous about the gift.

    "Yes, if you want them, they''re yours. If not, I could sell them and get some money. So, what do you say? You could learn to play, and maybe you''ll enjoy it. It''s like a tradition. I had a band, and today we learned that Dad had one too. Now it''s your turn to start a band someday."

    I couldn''t see Gabe''s face; he was sitting on the other side of the bed with one of the guitars in his lap. Carefully, he set them one by one next to his bed and softly said, "Thanks." Then he turned off the lamp and went to bed.

    "You''re welcome, little brother," I said as I closed my eyes for a good night''s sleep.

    The next day, after having breakfast, I approached Bob, who was watching television from the couch in the living room. "Dad, can we go get a haircut for me?" I asked. Bob seemed surprised by the question. "Your hair? You''re going to cut your hair? You?" he asked incredulously.

    "Yes, I was thinking that I''d like a new haircut and maybe some new clothes too, to start school tomorrow as a new PJ," I replied.

    "Well, if you say so," he said, turning off the TV and getting up from the couch. "Let''s go quickly before your mom or Teddy hear that we''re going shopping," he said, guiding me through the living room to the front door to leave.

    At the shopping mall, inside the barbershop, the barber was cutting my hair while an old basketball game played on the television. "You have good hair, kid, but you need to wash it better. If you keep mistreating it, it won''t be long before you end up like your father," the barber said.

    "Hey, the Duncan mane has always been a problem for the men in the family. No matter how much you take care of your hair, the genes are much stronger. In fact, I''m surprised that PJ doesn''t have any bald spots yet. At his age, my father had already given me my first cap," Bob said, mocking his attempt to intimidate his son.

    "Well, if you want to prove that theory wrong, son, use this shampoo, and everything will be fine," the barber said, handing me a bottle.

    After leaving the barbershop and on our way to the discount store on the mall''s second floor, Bob seemed annoyed. "That shampoo won''t work, PJ. You just allowed that man to rip you off," he said.

    "Well, Dad, I have nothing to lose by trying it. Anyway, the price of the bottle isn''t much higher than the regular shampoo prices, and I needed to buy more. I had very little left," I said, trying to make him understand my point. I''d do everything I could to avoid going bald.

    "Alright, you''re right. Just remember not to get your hopes up. I''ve tried everything, and look at me now," he said, pointing to his head with a smile. We took the escalators and quickly reached the second floor, heading towards the store.

    Inside the discount store, I found everything I needed: good-quality clothes at a spectacular price. I bought new shoes and a wristwatch that was hidden among the shelves, with a great discount. It seemed that either the store employees or another customer had hidden it there, intending to buy it later.

    Bob was telling me about a new species of termite he had read about in a magazine called "Pest Control Specialists," as he referred to it. When we reached the stairs to go down, they were packed with people, as it seemed everyone decided to leave the mall at the same time.

    A few steps below us, there was an elderly woman with a bag full of groceries. Suddenly, the bag burst open, and as she tried to catch the oranges that were escaping, she accidentally pushed a man who stumbled, triggering a chain reaction that led to a crowd collapsing.

    Screams filled the area, and in the distance, I could hear someone shouting, "Call an ambulance!" People who were already downstairs rushed to help those who had fallen last.

    Determined, Bob and I moved to help with the efforts. I helped lift people, including the woman who had lost her fruits. She was in distress, blaming herself for the chaos. "Oh my God, what have I done? It''s all my fault," she said with great concern.

    "Please, ma''am, everything is fine. There''s nothing to worry about. Nobody was seriously hurt," I tried to reassure her, but I was wrong. "Help! We need a doctor over here!" someone suddenly yelled close to me.

    On the ground was a young teenager, sweating and in great pain, as his face indicated. Beside him, on the floor, was a broken cane, and there was a blood stain on his shirt, near the pleural cavity*, with bubbles forming every time he inhaled.

    "It''s a tension pneumothorax*," I whispered almost unconsciously as someone lifted his shirt to see what was happening. He had a wound just below his chest, and with every breath, it filled with bubbles.

    People, obviously frightened, tried to press on the wound of the young man lying on the floor, who suddenly started breathing rapidly and gasping for short periods of air. Nobody seemed to know what to do.

    I immediately knew what was happening. "He''s having an asthma attack!" I shouted quickly. "He must have an inhaler!" The people attending to him searched his clothes and found a broken inhaler in his pants.

    Darn it! If nothing is done, he will die from the pressure in his chest, and the ambulance might not arrive in time. He needs a chest drain to relieve the pressure and seal the hole. I won''t be able to get one here. I felt panic starting to take over again; the air was becoming scarce, and all the noise from the people sounded like I was underwater. Someone else is going to die, and I won''t be able to help. My fists were clenched tightly when suddenly, a nail pierced my skin, snapping me out of my trance. Looking at my hands, I saw a plastic tube rolling near my foot.

    Wait...

    I quickly picked up the tube and ran to a nearby craft store, a few shops from the accident. I borrowed some adhesive tape and rushed back to the young man.

    "Excuse me, let me work," I said, pushing away the people who were on the ground. Carefully, I cut a piece of plastic and taped it to the young man''s chest, creating a makeshift valve to regulate the pressure and air inside his lungs.

    As I waited, everyone was silent, unable to believe that a teenager was attempting to patch the wound. Then, suddenly...

    "huhf, huhf," the young man breathed, still with difficulty, but looking better.

    "Incredible, kid," said a man beside me, patting my shoulder. "What''s your name?"

    "PJ, sir," I said, mentally exhausted as I moved away from the excited man.

    "You did well, kid. Where did you learn that?" he asked again.

    "I read it in a comic," I lied, recalling Gabe''s comic books.

    "In a comic!" the man exclaimed, surprised. "What comic could teach you..." he was saying until someone interrupted him. "The paramedics have arrived. Clear the way," another voice said.

    Taking advantage of the distraction, I slipped away to where Bob had gone.

    "PJ, there you are! Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Sorry for leaving so quickly, son. I went to help the people who needed it. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured," Bob said, panting.

    "Don''t worry, Dad, everything''s fine," I said to him. "Let''s go home." I took the balls he was still holding for me.

    "Okay, PJ, let''s get out of here. Let the professionals do their job," Bob said, pointing to the firefighters and paramedics in the area.

    In the car, on our way home, I lowered the volume of the music in the old van. "Dad, I remembered something I wanted to ask you," I said.

    "Go ahead, PJ," Bob responded jovially.

    "Do we have financial problems?" The question seemed to surprise Bob, as he suddenly jerked the steering wheel, causing the van to shake. "No, no, what makes you think that?" he asked, alarmed. "Well, we bought my clothes at the discount store," I explained, realizing why I was asking. Bob burst out laughing, "Oh, PJ, not at all! We don''t have any financial problems. With the sale of the house in Colorado, my new job opportunity, and your mom''s job, we can live comfortably for quite a while. Sure, some extra income wouldn''t hurt, but we''re okay, son. You don''t have to worry about that," he said, patting my now stylish hair. "If we bought your clothes there, it''s because I like to save money."

    Feeling more at ease with his response, I turned up the music volume again. I would like to be able to earn more money for my family, but how? Surely, there must be an easy way to make money, especially for someone like me who has a rough idea of what will happen in the future, I thought as I gazed out the window, and then...

    "RadioShack."

    And I knew how I would make money.

    -----------------------------

    Glossary

    *Pleural Cavity: Space surrounded by the pleura, which is a thin layer of tissue that covers the lungs and lines the inner wall of the thoracic cavity.

    *Tension Pneumothorax: This occurs when there is a valvular mechanism that allows air to enter the pleural cavity during inspiration but does not allow it to escape during expiration.

    -----------------------------

    Author''s thoughts

    Here ends another chapter. Again, I''m not a doctor, and I don''t know how many things worked in America in the 90s.

    Now, I would like to clarify a few things. This chapter is probably filled with information that may not be interesting to you, the readers, but I''m adding it to have more substantial content and not just filler.

    There will be three major arcs (which may be subdivided): adolescence (high school), medical school, and the stage as a doctor. These arcs will have their own appearances from series and/or movies (If you have any recommendations, I''m all eyes [Is that a tired joke, right?]). Therefore, the story will have many chapters and may be slow at some points (but not boring, I hope).

    Will there be romance in the story? Yes, there will be, but it might not appear until later, possibly in the second or third arc. Again, to clarify from the synopsis, there won''t be a Harem, but possibly there won''t be just one relationship throughout the story (only one woman per relationship).

    If any information I provided in today''s chapter is incorrect, I hope you forgive me and let me know so I can check if it needs correction.

    Oh, and I''m preparing a Discord (I''m very new to that application, but I saw other authors doing it, so I don''t want to be left behind), and I''m looking for people who want to moderate the server (obviously, there''s no pay, but you''ll be compensated with a false sense of power).

    That''s all for now. Thank you for reading, and if you find any errors, please let me know so I can correct them.

    Edit: I forgot to mention that the Cooper''s table in the original series is for 6 people (you can see it in the first episode of Young Sheldon). I extended it by two more seats for the sake of the plot.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 5

    Back home, Bob stopped me before opening the door. "If they ask, we just went for a haircut, nothing else. If your mom finds out we went shopping and didn''t take her, she''ll murder me," he said with a serious look, holding my shoulders and speaking close to my face. When I nodded, he let me go and slowly opened the door to peek inside the house.

    "Quick, PJ, go to your room, make sure your mom doesn''t see the bags at all costs," he urged me as we entered the house.

    "Halt right there!" suddenly yelled from the living room. "What is it that you don''t want me to see, Bob?" Mom had appeared out of nowhere, directly in front of us. "Oh, PJ, what a nice haircut, you finally got rid of that awful hair," she said, getting closer to inspect it.

    While a few steps toward us, her gaze fixed on the bags in my hand. "That is..." she seemed impressed, "Bob! You went shopping without me!" she exclaimed, and with a sigh, Bob walked over to the couch and sat down.

    I slipped away from the commotion, grateful that Bob was receiving his wife''s attention in the form of angry shouts. Mom completely ignored my presence. Carefully and trying to ignore Bob''s cries for help, I made my way to my room where Gabe was practicing with one of the guitars.

    Considering the short time Gabe has had the guitars, he played the strings with remarkable ease, at least to my inexperienced eyes. "That sounds good," I said, apparently startling the boy.

    "PJ! When did you get here?" he quickly put the guitar aside, seeming embarrassed that I caught him playing it. I approached him, took the guitar in my hands, and handed it back to him.

    "Come on, keep going. I gave you those guitars because I want to see you play them," I said with a smile. With embarrassment on his face, Gabe took the guitar, settled back on the bed, and began playing the strings, one by one, completing a circle.

    Happy, I started putting my new clothes away in my wardrobe, still listening to the sound of the strings. "How long have you been doing this?" I asked Gabe, trying not to break his concentration. "Since the end of breakfast," he replied. It had been over three hours since he started.

    After finishing putting the clothes away, I noticed a football ball on the floor of the wardrobe. I picked it up and couldn''t resist throwing it lightly at Gabe''s head to get his attention. When he turned with intrigue on his face, I teased him, saying, "Well, that''s enough guitar for today. You''ll hurt your fingers. Take that ball and follow me. Let''s play with it."

    I left our room on the way to the front yard, passing by Teddy''s door, where I heard two voices talking. "So the boy I like doesn''t have to speak first?" I heard Missy say. "Not necessarily. For example, in Colorado, there was this guy, Spencer, tall, very handsome, but he didn''t talk to me, so I spoke first," Teddy replied. "And what happened then? Was he your boyfriend?" Missy asked. "Yes, he was my boyfriend," Teddy lied, laughing quietly at the girls'' conversation. I moved away from their door and arrived at the living room.

    Mom and Bob were sitting on the couch, Mom crying on Bob''s shoulder. When he saw me, he silently asked for help, pointing to Mom and then to the remote control, which was far from them on the couch.

    Ignoring Bob, I left the house and went to our front yard. The neighborhood was awake, people walking their dogs, neighbors mowing the lawn, a few women jogging. It was a beautiful, sunny, and warm day. I was admiring everything when suddenly, a hit on my head made me lose my balance. Turning around, I saw the football ball on the ground, the one I had thrown at Gabe a moment ago.

    "Revenge, PJ!" Gabe laughed from the doorstep.

    We played catch with the ball for a while until, from the Cooper''s house, Mrs. Cooper greeted us from her doorstep, dressed like the quintessential 90s Texan housewife, with Sheldon holding a green book over his face in front of her.

    "Good morning, PJ, Gabe. It''s a beautiful day to play ball, isn''t it?" Mrs. Cooper said as she waved at us. "Yes, Mrs. Cooper, good morning to you too, Sheldon," I replied cheerfully, returning the ball to Gabe, who also greeted with a wave.

    "Good morning," Sheldon said without taking his eyes off the green book.

    Seeing her son''s behavior, Mrs. Cooper snatched the book from Sheldon''s hands and pulled him a few steps toward us. "Sheldon, why don''t you join them? PJ, would you mind looking after him a bit?" Mrs. Cooper asked, placing her hands on Sheldon''s shoulders.

    "No, of course not, Mrs. Cooper. Sheldon, catch!" I said, throwing the ball back to him. "Or ignore it and let it fall," I added when I saw Sheldon not moving a muscle to catch it. "Sorry, Sheldon. Did I throw it too hard? Give it back, and this time I''ll throw it more gently," I said, hoping Sheldon would pick up the ball. "Oh, no. It''s just dirty, and I won''t touch it," Sheldon said as if it were obvious.

    "I''ll leave him with you," Mrs. Cooper quickly said, heading back to her house, ignoring the looks of disbelief Gabe and I were exchanging.

    "Well, you can stay here and chat with us," I said as I approached to pick up the ball. "What did you do today?" I asked as I threw the ball back to Gabe.

    "I went to church with my mother. Since we''re going to have a talk, I might as well ask you if you''ve ever had bad thoughts," he asked, for the first time seeming like a regular kid.

    "Well, Sheldon, it''s normal to have bad thoughts, but the important thing is not to be guided by them. I imagine the pastor considered bad thoughts as a sin and good thoughts as a grace from God, right?" I replied while continuing to play with the ball. "Exactly. That''s what Pastor Jeff said, but I don''t think I''ve ever had a bad thought, and I doubt my good thoughts are God''s doing," he said.

    "Don''t tell your mom, but I agree with you on that one. You might not remember having bad thoughts because your own morality doesn''t perceive them as such. However, the good thoughts are not necessarily God''s doing, or at least that''s what I think," I responded.

    "My own morality?" he seemed intrigued.

    "Yes, morality is a philosophical discipline that studies human behavior. It generally examines the social norms that define what is right or wrong. Your morality is defined by your environment. Like I said, your morality might be different from mine or Gabe''s here," I explained as I threw the ball once again to my brother.

    "I see. So, according to your theory, some of my thoughts might be perceived as good by me but as bad by other people," the boy said.

    "Yes, it''s not my theory. I don''t know who invented it, and I''m not sure if you can consider it a theory to begin with. But yes, basically, that''s it," I said, feeling a little bit embarrassed now.

    "You were right yesterday. Surprisingly, there doesn''t seem to be any significant damage in your brain," Sheldon said with a surprised expression. "You seem smart enough to have a conversation."

    "Haha, the child genius thinks you''re not a chimpanzee, PJ," Gabe said, laughing, as he threw the ball back. Retrieving the ball, I replied, "Yes, thanks for noticing that I''m not an idiot."

    "You''re welcome," Sheldon said before being interrupted. "Hey, Sheldon!" From the Cooper''s yard, a chubby boy approached, holding a chicken in his hands.

    "Hello, Billy Sparks. Hello, Matilda Sparks," Sheldon said in a monotone and bored tone.

    "I heard you''re going to high school tomorrow," the chubby boy said.

    "Yeah, so you better find someone else to torment on the playground," Sheldon said, and to my surprise, this chubby boy who seemed foolish turned out to be a bully. I didn''t see that coming.

    "Torment? What does that mean?" the chubby boy asked, looking intrigued.

    With an exasperated sigh, Sheldon explained, "It means to maliciously harass."

    "Her ass? Haha, that''s funny," the chubby boy laughed loudly, and Gabe laughing too lost sight of the ball, unable to catch it, and got hit in the face, which made me laugh too.

    Apparently tired of the interaction, Sheldon said, "Well, this was nice. We were having an interesting conversation before you arrived, so you can leave now."

    Seemingly annoyed at being dismissed, the chubby boy said, "Hey, doofus," and brought the chicken close to Sheldon''s face. In fear, Sheldon screamed loudly and hid behind the nearest thing he found, which happened to be my body.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Behind me, Sheldon, still hiding, screamed again, making me realize that he was just a little kid and made me feel bad.

    "That''s enough, Matilda Spark. I think you should go," I told the chubby boy.

    "My name isn''t Matilda; that''s my chicken''s name," the chubby boy replied.

    "Yes, I know. It was just a joke. You can go now. You''re scaring Sheldon," I responded to the boy.

    "That''s the point of bringing Matilda to doofus. It''s funny; look," he tried to come closer, but an object flew and hit him in the face, causing him to step back. "Ow, what was that?" he said, holding his nose with one hand and holding the chicken under his other arm.

    "Sorry, I aimed wrong," Gabe said, who had thrown the ball.

    The chubby boy moved his hand away from his face and upon seeing a bit of blood, ran back crying and shouting, "Mom!"

    Seeing that his bully had run away, Sheldon came out from behind his hiding place, my body, and said, "Thanks, PJ, for trying to make him leave."

    "Hey, it was my throw that made him go," Gabe protested, offended. "You should thank me too."

    "But you said it was an accident," Sheldon replied curiously.

    "Yeah, duh. It was a lie. I did it on purpose. It''s funny to see how you got scared. But even I have limits," Gabe said with a smile. "Besides, my ''morality'' told me to do it."

    "There you have a perfect example, Sheldon. What Gabe did might seem bad to other people, but for the three of us, it''s clearly a good deed. That''s morality," I told the kid. "Although next time, Gabe, I don''t want you to hit someone. Try to handle things differently," I said as I threw the ball back to him.

    "Yeah, whatever," Gabe said with fake irritation in his voice, though his face showed the opposite, with a big smile.

    "Shelly, what happened? I heard you scream," Mrs. Cooper asked, appearing to have rushed here, if her agitation was real.

    "Oh, Mom, it''s nothing. Billy Spark scared me with his chicken, but PJ and Gabe made him leave," Sheldon said, omitting the part where Gabe hit him with the ball.

    "Is that so?" a very relieved Mrs. Cooper said. "Well, thank you very much, boys," she thanked us.

    "You''re welcome, Mrs. Cooper," we replied in unison.

    "Come on, Shelly, say goodbye to PJ and Gabe. It''s time for lunch," the smiling Mrs. Cooper said as she went back inside her house.

    "I didn''t tell my mom because I think she''d be one of those people who think what Gabe did is bad," Sheldon whispered to me.

    "Alright, thanks, Sheldon," I whispered back.

    "Goodbye, Gabe. Goodbye, PJ. Have a good day. See you at school tomorrow, PJ," Sheldon said as he walked away. "Oh, I remembered something. PJ, have your testicles dropped yet?" This time, I was the one surprised, and I missed the ball, getting hit in the face.

    After Sheldon left to have lunch, Gabe and I continued playing until I got exhausted, which unfortunately didn''t take long. PJ was, or rather, I am in very bad shape. In my previous life, maybe I wasn''t the most athletic person, but my work as a paramedic made me gain some fitness. I need to start exercising again before it''s too late.

    The day passed without anything significant happening. Gabe went out to ride his bike, Teddy continued to stay locked in her room despite Missy having returned home, and I started studying PJ''s books and notebooks again. They were battered, with missing pages, and the notebooks had few relevant notes.

    The next day.

    After taking a morning shower as part of my new routine I decided to go for a short run every morning to try and improve my lacking fitness.

    Entereing the kitchen I greeted Teddy and Gabe, who were having breakfast at the dining table. I approached my mom, who was hurriedly preparing sandwiches and packing them, along with different fruits, into paper bags, one for each of us. "Darn it, Bob couldn''t have scheduled that meeting later. Now I have to rush to drop off Gabe, then Teddy, and finally PJ. They''re going to be late on their first day of school," she muttered with annoyance as she vigorously spread mayonnaise on one of the bread slices.

    "Good morning, Mom. Do you need any help?" I asked, moving closer to the kitchen counter to grab an apple. "Sure thing, PJ. Please turn off the sprinklers while I finish preparing your siblings'' lunches."

    Heading to the front yard, I saw Mr. Cooper and Georgie leaving their house, heading toward Mr. Cooper''s van. Quickly closing the sprinkler valve, I ran towards them and called out, "Good morning, Mr. Cooper, Georgie. Since you''re going to school, could you give me a ride too? Dad had to attend a meeting with a client, and Mom can''t take us all on time."

    "Good morning, PJ. Of course, we''ll wait for you. Go get your things," Mr. Cooper replied, opening the van door and getting in with Georgie.

    Thanking them, I rushed back inside the house. "Mom, Mr. Cooper can give me a ride to school. You can relax now," I told her as I grabbed one of the paper bags, my backpack, and a small suitcase containing my special footballshoes for the tryout.

    "Oh, thank him for me, PJ," she said, relieved. As I passed by her, she stopped me by the arm and kissed my forehead. "Good luck on your first day of school," she said, giving me a hug, which I returned. After bidding farewell to Mom and the kids, I left the house, heading towards the Coopers who were waiting for me in their van.

    Inside Mr. Cooper''s van on the way to school...

    "Are you okay?" I asked, as I noticed Georgie seemed upset. "No, stupid bow-tie," he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. "Bow-tie?" I asked. "Yeah, my stupid brother lost it, and mom blamed me when I didn''t take anything," the frustrated teenager replied with a sigh. "Hey! Don''t call your brother that. If your mom got upset, it''s because she''s worried about Sheldon. Yes, it wasn''t your fault, but you can''t blame your mom. It seems like you hate the idea of your brother being in the same school as you," Mr. Cooper said.

    "How could I not hate the idea of him being in my grade? You know what he''s like. They''re going to make fun of me," Georgie said, even more annoyed. "Yes, I know, but it''s your duty as the older brother to protect him, Georgie. Let''s hope your brother can behave a bit in school, and if not, you really don''t have to hang out with him, you know? Just make sure he doesn''t get hurt," Mr. Cooper said as he parked in the school parking lot.

    "Yeah, whatever," Georgie said, storming out of the van towards the school.

    "Thanks for driving me, Mr. Cooper," I said as I prepared to leave, but he stopped me by touching my shoulder. "PJ, I know it''s not your responsibility, and I shouldn''t ask you, but I would appreciate it if you checked on Sheldon from time to time and accompanied Georgie. He''s upset with everyone, and I don''t want him to do something stupid because of his brother," Mr. Cooper said, showing some concern.

    "Of course, Mr. Cooper. Don''t worry about it. I actually get along with Sheldon despite his... eccentricities, and I was hoping to befriend Georgie. After all, we might be on the same team. See you later at the tryouts," I said as I got out of the van and said goodbye to Mr. Cooper.

    I didn''t remember how nervous one could be on the first day of school. The entrance of the school was divided into many different groups. I could see the popular kids with the cheerleaders, the punks dressed in all black, with extravagant hairstyles, piercings, and makeup. There were skaters chatting while doing small tricks, a pregnant girl, and other people who didn''t fit into any specific category.

    As I walked inside the school, I felt some glances on my back and murmurs behind me. Being in a small town, it was natural that people would wonder who I was. I shouldn''t have been surprised, but I still felt the pressure.

    Inside the doors, I ran into Georgie, who was talking to three other people. As I approached, Georgie noticed my presence and said, "David, Alan, Brock, this is PJ Duncan, my new neighbor. He''ll be trying out with us." He introduced his friends to me, "We''ve been friends since middle school. David is our HalfBack, Alan is the FullBack, and Brock, along with me, are the Offensive Guards."

    Greeting everyone with a high-five, we started walking towards the classroom while they were discussing the most common topic among teenagers their age: girls, breasts, and butts. At some point in the conversation, they asked me, "Hey PJ, what kind of girl do you like, ones with big butts or big breasts?" I replied, "Well, I''ve never really thought about it. I guess it doesn''t matter to me, honestly." As soon as I said that, they fell silent, looking at each other until Brock spoke up, "Yeah, you''re right! It doesn''t matter whether they have a big butt or big breasts; both are great." He then asked for a high-five, and I happily obliged.

    When we arrived at the classroom, I sat next to Broke at one of the two-seater tables. They continued discussing other topics now that we were surrounded by more people in a smaller space ¨C from comics to music and last week''s game. Occasionally, they asked for my opinion in a discussion, "Who do you think would win, Spiderman or Rambo?" or "Which robot do you think is cooler, Terminator or Robocop?" They kept going until... "Isn''t that your brother Georgie?" David said, pointing at the door.

    Standing at the door, looking like a little adult with a tucked-in dress shirt and a briefcase in his hand, Sheldon scanned the room. When he spotted his brother and me sitting at the back of the classroom, he waved at us and approached, "Good morning, PJ. Have you noticed that many classmates break the code of conduct? Do you think their morality prevents them from following the rules?" he asked, intrigued.

    "No, Sheldon, I think this time they''re just people who want to dress how they like," I replied to the boy, who furrowed his brow in confusion upon hearing the answer.

    "But you told me that..." he was saying when "Go sit down, Sheldon, don''t talk to us during class," Georgie said, exasperated.

    "But I wasn''t talking to you, I was talking to PJ," Sheldon said, causing his three old friends to mock him.

    "Yeah Georgie, he was talking to PJ, not you," Broke said mockingly, "don''t interrupt his conversation, you disrespectful little guy," Alan added to the joke, trying to imitate Sheldon''s way of speaking.

    "You see, even your friends understand," Sheldon said petulantly.

    Georgie seemed about to explode, so I intervened, "Come on, Sheldon, go find a seat, class is about to start. If you''re not seated when the bell rings, you''ll be breaking a rule," I said in a playful scolding tone. Surprised, Sheldon quickly picked up his briefcase and briskly walked to the front of the classroom, where a girl with glasses occupied a desk. A second later, the bell rang, causing Sheldon to jump in his seat and turn to me, giving a thumbs up with a satisfied smile.

    "Thanks for that," Georgie said, smiling.

    "Don''t mention it," I replied, smiling back.

    -------------------------------------------

    Author''s thoughts

    I am not a believer, but I don''t like being disrespectful. Everything written in this chapter is without the intention of offending any religious person or religion. The main character doesn''t believe in God and is not afraid to say it. I hope I haven''t offended anyone, and if I have, I apologize.

    Again, I am not American, so I don''t know how high school works or how football works. While writing this chapter, I did some research on the positions of the players, but I''m not sure if the lineup I created is correct, nor do I know if freshmen can play on the school team. It''s all based on the idea from the first chapter of Young Sheldon.

    David, Alan, and Broke are characters from some high school football movies (I have to watch them) (The movies are Remember the titans and Facing the Giants) to better understand their personalities because in this first arc, I plan to make them recurring characters in the story.

    That''s all, if you find any errors, please comment so I can correct them. See you later.

    PS: The Discord is almost ready; I''ve been studying to make it as aesthetic as possible :D.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 6

    It took a few minutes for the first person to enter, an elderly woman with a tired face and the frame of her glasses resting on her head, feigned a smile as she approached the board to write what I''m sure is her name. "All right, everybody, my name is Ms. MacElroy," she said, displaying her name on the board.

    "In addition to being your homeroom teacher, I''ll be seeing some of you in my English class and some of you on the volleyball court," she continued.

    I could see Sheldon looking around the classroom while the teacher spoke. I nudged Broke to show Sheldon, who then signaled to Georgie, who enthusiastically gestured for Sheldon to face forward.

    "I''m sure you''re well aware that we have a student with us who, despite his young age, is remarkably gifted," the teacher said condescendingly, referring to Sheldon, "and I expect all of you to make him feel welcome."

    When the teacher said that, Sheldon immediately raised his hand. "Oh boy, here he goes," I heard Georgie murmur.

    Before the teacher could give Sheldon the floor, I stood up and said, "Well, thank you, ma''am, for your kind words. Although I''m the right age to be in 9th grade, you''re correct in saying that I have a gift. If anyone needs help with anything, I wouldn''t mind sharing my gift with anyone," I said with a falsely altruistic tone and a politician''s smile. "By the way, I''m PJ, pleased to meet you all," I chuckled a bit at my obvious joke as I sat back down.

    Many, including the teacher, acknowledged my obvious jest and laughed a little. Georgie, who was also quietly chuckling, said, "Thanks."

    Until...

    "PJ, the teacher was obviously referring to me," Sheldon said, turning on his chair to face me with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I thought it was clear; I''m surprised you didn''t notice," he continued, making the class laugh again.

    "Yes, it was a little joke, Sheldon. We all know the teacher was talking about you," I explained to the child.

    "Oh, I see now," Sheldon replied. "Sorry, Ms. MacElroy," he raised his hand again.

    "Yes, Sheldon?"

    "Oh boy," I muttered this time.

    "Per the student dress and grooming code, this boy''s hair is too long, this boy is wearing sports attire outside of a designated area, and this girl''s blouse is diaphanous, which means I can see her brassiere," Sheldon quickly pointed to each person. Once again, when he finished, the class laughed a bit, except for Georgie, who banged his forehead on his desk.

    "Thank you, I will take that into account," said the teacher, obviously not placing much importance on it, with fake gratitude. "Alright, we have a few minutes before the first period. I need all of you to fill out these forms," she continued with her false enthusiasm. "What?" she asked, seeing Sheldon raise his hand again.

    "Also, in violation of the grooming code on page 48, article five, subsection B, you have a bit of a mustache," Sheldon shamelessly pointed out.

    Laughter erupted in the classroom.

    Teacher MacElroy seemed trance-like, with her eyes wide open and her jaw hanging loose. Suddenly snapping out of her trance, she quickly brought a hand to her face and said, "Fill out your forms, leave them on your desks, and wait for your first period so you can go to your math class. I have things to do in the teachers'' room," she said as she swiftly left the room.

    As soon as the teacher left the classroom, noise filled the room. Laughter began to be heard, some students filled out the forms in front of them while talking to their friends, and a few others stayed silent answering the questions on the form.

    "Your brother is very funny, Georgie," Brooke said with a loud laugh. "Yeah? Try living with that all the time," Georgie pointed to Sheldon, who was still filling out his form.

    "Come on, he''s just a kid, even though he''s clearly smarter than you, you can still outdo him in other things, right?" Alan said, placing his hand on Georgie''s shoulder with a smug smile.

    After finishing filling out my form, I sat up straight in my seat and said, "Come on, Georgie, he''s your brother. Gabe used to tease me a bit too, but if you find something he likes and help him with it, he''ll start to respect you more," I advised.

    "Yeah, but what he likes is science and stupid trains that I can''t touch," Georgie exclaimed in frustration.

    "Haha, then you''re out of luck, buddy," David, who was sitting in front of us, teased. "You talking about science?" he continued with more mockery in his voice as he turned back to fill out his papers.

    With that, my new friends started filling out the forms in front of them. Since I had finished earlier, I decided to approach Sheldon, who kept turning to look at me.

    "What''s up, little buddy?" I asked Sheldon, greeting the girl next to him with a nod.

    "I was wondering about our conversation a few minutes ago. If they break the school rules, is it because their morality allows it?" Sheldon asked with intrigue on his face.

    "Well, Sheldon, there are rules that exist to set boundaries for people. Sometimes those boundaries are understandable, like the laws of our country, but occasionally rules don''t make any sense. Tell me, if there were a rule that prohibited you from playing with your little miniature trains, would you follow it?" I asked, sitting in an empty chair next to him.

    "Well, it would bother me a little not to be able to use my miniature trains, certainly, but if justice dictates that I can''t do it, I will follow the law without hesitation," he said with self-assurance.

    "I understand that you see it that way, but not everyone has your willpower to avoid doing things they enjoy," I said as I stood up to leave the classroom, as Georgie, David, Alan, and Brooke were waiting for me at the door.

    When the first period started and we were inside the classroom, everything followed the same course as the first encounter with a teacher. Teacher Ingram introduced herself, writing her name and the subject she would teach on the board, gave an overview of her class, and then began with a question, "Does anyone here know what Algebra is?"

    Only Sheldon raised his hand, which made many of those who had shared a classroom with him during the first moments of school sigh. Teacher Ingram nodded and gave him the floor.

    "Yes, Algebra is the branch of mathematics that studies the combination of elements from abstract structures according to certain rules. Originally, these elements could be interpreted as numbers or quantities, so algebra, in a way, was originally a generalization and extension of arithmetic," Sheldon said as if he had read it from a book.

    "Very well," the surprised teacher nodded, turning to the board to write again, until "Excuse me, Teacher Ingram," she returned her gaze to Sheldon, who once again had his hand raised.

    "Yes, Cooper?" she asked.

    "I was wondering, where did you get your credentials? If you don''t know what Algebra is, how do you expect to teach us mathematics?" Sheldon asked, intrigued.

    Once again, a few laughs escaped from people in the classroom, which were quickly silenced by an annoyed look from the teacher.

    "Well, Sheldon, if you really need to know, I got my degree from Oral Roberts University, and I passed my teacher preparation program," she responded.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "Oral Roberts University," Sheldon repeated with a hint of displeasure on his face.

    "Yes, it''s a wonderful school," the teacher replied, offended.

    It seemed like Sheldon was about to say something against this statement, so I decided to intervene.

    "True, I''ve heard of it too. My uncle graduated from there as well; he speaks highly of the school," I quickly lied to the teacher to silence Sheldon.

    "Well, your uncle is right, young man. What''s your name?" the teacher replied.

    "PJ Duncan, ma''am. You were telling us about Algebra," I said with a smile.

    "Oh, yes, thank you, Duncan," she said with a kind smile, "well, as I was saying, Algebra is mainly based on-."

    The class continued with some interruptions from Sheldon, and as no one raised their hand besides him, he was the only one answering. The teacher, Ms. Ingram, became increasingly annoyed with his behavior. Feeling sorry for her, I started raising my hand too. With a grateful smile, Ms. Ingram ignored Sheldon''s hand and acknowledged mine instead. By the end of the period, I had answered more than half of the class questions. If the scowl was any clue this seemed to bother Sheldon.

    When the bell rang, Ms. Ingram quickly announced the homework: "the first ten problems from our textbook and Duncan, can you wait a moment please, i need to talk with you" the teacher requested.

    "Oh, real homework!" exclaimed Sheldon excitedly as he packed up his things and prepared to leave.

    Once everyone left the classroom, Ms. Ingram asked me to approach her desk. She cautiously handed me a piece of paper, making sure no one was near the door.

    Is this what I think it is, or am I mistaken?

    As I was about to open it, she stopped me and said, "I don''t want your classmates to know about this," Oh, dear, it is what I thought it was, "especially Sheldon," huh?

    When I opened the note, it contained a list of algebra topics.

    "From now on, I''ll give you a list of topics that will be covered in the next class. If you notice that only Sheldon raises his hand, I want you to do the same, and I''ll give you a chance to answer. Make sure to find the answers to the questions beforehand, so he can''t correct you, and therefore, me. I''ll give you extra credit if you need it by the end of the course," she discreetly whispered as she guided me to the classroom door.

    "Goodbye, Duncan. See you tomorrow," said the teacher as she pushed me out and closed the door firmly.

    In the hallway, my four new friends were waiting, looking at me with puzzled expressions, wondering why the teacher had escorted me out of the classroom.

    Ignoring their questions, I continued on my way, and they followed suit.

    The next class was with Mr. Givens, our science teacher.

    "So, who''s ready to explore the wonderful world of science?" he exclaimed enthusiastically with his arms up after introducing himself. No one responded until Sheldon raised his hand and said, "Mr. Givens, even though I''m very excited about the Science class, I''m a bit concerned that you''re being in breach of the hygiene code," Sheldon pressed his nose, again, for reasons unclear to him. The classmates started laughing at what he said.

    Surprised by the boy''s statement, Mr. Givens sniffed one of his armpits, made a disgusted face, quickly lowered his arms, and sat at his desk. "Well, young man, that''s quite rude to say. Why don''t you apologize, so we can continue with the class?"

    Seemingly offended by the request, Sheldon replied, "I won''t apologize for stating the truth. Instead, I offer to be your leader, Mr. Givens, as I am the superior mind, and you are intimidated by my intelligence." Once again, the class burst into laughter at Sheldon''s words, while Mr. Givens was left speechless by the audacity of the child.

    The class continued as it should after the teacher explained to Sheldon that he couldn''t be the leader. During this class, just like with Ms. Ingram, I attempted to answer as many questions as possible. However, in an imaginary competition with Sheldon, he wouldn''t let the teacher choose anyone else to respond after he had answered a question. He would swiftly answer before I could, with a smug smile that, rather than annoy me, I found amusing. So I chuckled under my breath, which seemed to upset him even more. He kept answering questions before the teacher finished asking them or blurting out facts during explanations. Sheldon seemed to be trying to win a race that we weren''t having, which annoyed some of my classmates, especially Georgie, who received teasing glances from some of them.

    But for me, Sheldon was quite helpful. He could be very enthusiastic while answering science questions or providing explanations on his own, explanations that were accurate and helped refresh my memory even more.

    The class continued like this until the bell rang again. We all headed to the cafeteria, where we sat with new people who seemed to be taking the tests today as well. I met many new faces, but I mostly talked with Georgie, who remained upset with his brother.

    "Damn," he said, "why does he have to be so unbearable," continuing to chew his lunch angrily.

    "Georgie, he just doesn''t know how to be any different. His brain works very differently from ours. You''ll have to bear with him," I said, trying to calm him down. "Yeah, idiot brother, you just have to put up with your younger brother being smarter than you until the day you die," a voice behind us said.

    Georgie turned in his seat, annoyed, and said, "What did you say, idiot?" attempting to stand up, but I stopped him, pointing to the teacher on duty in the cafeteria. "If you start a fight in the cafeteria, they won''t let you participate in the Football tryout," I said, still holding onto his shoulder.

    After seeing that there was indeed a teacher watching, he said, "Bah, whatever," removed my hand from his shoulder, and left the cafeteria, upset.

    My next class was Spanish, which passed quickly since I was alone without my friends or Sheldon.

    At the end of the day, a few of us teenagers were on the football field, hands on their hips, and disappointment on their faces Mr. Cooper and Coach Wilkins blew the whistle, calling us over. "We''ve counted, and honestly, we don''t need the tryout today. If you came to the tryout, you''re on the team. Congratulations, you''re all we''ve got," said Mr. Cooper. "Now, we''ll organize you, the defensive team will go with Coach Wilkins, while the offensive team stays with me, Coach!." With another blow of the whistle, they started organizing us into positions. Surprisingly, I was given the role of quarterback, as I was the tallest among the teenagers, which would give me an advantage, according to Mr. Cooper.

    The training went well, except for an incident involving Georgie and the same teenager who had annoyed him in the cafeteria. Mr. Cooper and Coach Wilkins separated them, and furious, Georgie stormed off towards the locker rooms with Mr. Cooper following him. While Coach Wilkins was occupied on the other side of the field, I approached the teenager and said, "Hey, piggy," as I grabbed the bars of his helmet and pulled him closer. "Next time you want to make a joke like that, think twice about the consequences. We''re on the same team, you idiot," I whispered to the young man, who angrily removed my hand from his helmet and prepared to fight.

    I also raised my hands, ready for his punch, but it never came. He lowered his hands and walked away.

    When I turned around, puzzled by the situation, I saw my new friends standing behind me, trying to look intimidating. It must have worked, as he left.

    "Good job, quarterback, already looking out for the team," David said, pulling my helmet slightly.

    "Yes, I don''t know what that idiot said to Georgie. It''s too bad you confronted him first, PJ. I was planning to do it," Broke said, snorting through his nose, annoyed, and showing off his chubby arms.

    Georgie returned a few moments later, thanked me when they told him what I did, and we continued with the training.

    As expected, I didn''t have great physical fitness, so my throws weren''t very long or fast, but according to Coach Wilkins, they were accurate.

    At the end of the training, at Mr. Cooper''s request, Coach Wilkins handed us a playbook, asking us to learn the plays.

    We then took a shower in the school''s locker room and said goodbye at the exit, where each of us went home with our own parents.

    Mom was already waiting in the car, Teddy was in the front seat, so I didn''t bother her and sat in the back, where Gabe was reading one of his comics. "Hey, PJ, how was your first day of school?" Mom greeted me as soon as I got in.

    "It was good, just a regular day with the daily drama, but good, also I made it onto the team," I told Mom, handing the playbook to Gabe. "Do you want to help me learn these plays?" I ask him. The car, which had just started moving, suddenly came to a sudden stop. "You made it onto the team?" Mom exclaimed. "I''m so proud of you, PJ! Wait until your dad hears about this," she said, continuing to drive with a big smile on her face.

    -----------------------------------------------------------

    Author''s thoughts.

    As always, I''m not American, so I''m not familiar with how American schools work. In Chapter 1 of Young Sheldon, only three teachers were introduced, so I don''t know what other subjects high school students take in America. Therefore, I''ll ignore and ask you to overlook the lack of other subjects. In this chapter, there was a mention of a Spanish class, but it was just a nod, and it won''t be mentioned again (unless the plot requires it).

    This chapter was designed to introduce new secondary characters who will be recurring throughout the story, especially in the first arc. Buckle up because the first sub-arc of this initial arc is coming.

    Please, leave me a review. If you don''t leave a review, you''ll have to endure the edgy characters (ugh, how disgusting).

    If you find an error, you know how it goes, comment on it, and I''ll correct it immediately.

    P.S: Despite being based on Daily American Drama, this story won''t have many similarities. I doubt I''ll add some characters, like Hayley Stark from the movie Hard Candy (in DAD, it''s "Juno the Killer"). It''s a good movie, and I recommend watching it if you haven''t already, although Ellen Page''s (now Eliot) performance as Hayley leaves something to be desired. I don''t see a reason to add that character here; in DAD, the author added it because their MC''s system rewards him for having intelligent friends, in other words, initially, it''s just there to give the MC a few more intelligence points. However, if you have a character that you think fits well with the story and would like to see, I''m completely open to recommendations.

    Thanks for reading! :D.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 7

    During the meal, Mom gave Bob the news, who, very excited, congratulated me, "It''s in the blood the Duncans, being athletes. Your dad was a great basketball player, and now you, the quarterback. I''m so proud," Bob said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Well, actually, there were very few of us at the tryout, so Mr. Cooper immediately assigned each of us a position on the team," I clarified.

    "So, they had no choice but to put you on the team," Gabe said mockingly, receiving a reprimand from Mom in the form of a tap on the back of his head. "It doesn''t matter how you got on the team; the important thing is that you''re in it," Mom said, scolding Gabe.

    "Anyway, it''s a great opportunity for you, PJ. If you manage to stand out, maybe you''ll get a sports scholarship for college. You have to put a lot of effort into it, and then you''ll have a chance to go to university," Bob said, now a bit less enthusiastic.

    "Well, changing the subject, Teddy, how''s the new school?" Mom asked trying to change the mood.

    Teddy, who hadn''t spoken during the ride home, lifted her face from the plate of food and said, "Fine," before continuing to eat.

    "Well... How about you, Gabe?" Mom asked, puzzled by Teddy''s behavior.

    "It was the same as Colorado. I''m in the same class as Missy, but she hangs out with other girls, so I hung out with Lucas," Gabe commented casually, then he seemed to remember something and raised his head, saying, "Oh, PJ, remember the chubby kid from the other day? Matilda Sparks," he laughed at a joke only he and I understood.

    "Yes, didn''t he bother you?" I asked.

    "No, in fact, he was afraid of me, so Lucas and I had fun chasing him in the schoolyard," Gabe said proudly.

    "Who''s Matilda Sparks?" Mom asked, confused. "He''s just a kid who used to bother Sheldon, the smallest Cooper kid," I responded to Mom. "Oh, I see. Gabe, don''t bother him from now on," she scolded the boy.

    "Well, my day was quite productive. I took care of a bug infestation in the kitchen of a hotel a few kilometers away. It was as easy as putting poison in the most infested areas and waiting for the job to be done on its own. They offered to take me out to eat as a reward, so I was thinking we could go next weekend. I saw they had..." Bob began before being interrupted by Mom rushing to the bathroom.

    "Wow, is it that disgusting to imagine?" he asked, surprised by Mom''s sudden departure.

    "Well, it''s a bit gross, Dad, and I don''t think she''d want to eat there," I replied, trying to cover up the reason for Mom''s sudden nausea.

    Mom returned a few minutes later, and the meal continued without any special incidents. When I finished, I thanked for the meal and left my utensils in the dishwasher.

    On my way to my room, I noticed Teddy had her door open. She had eaten very little, excusing herself long before anyone else. She seemed to be doing homework.

    Touching the door frame to get her attention, I asked for permission to enter.

    "What are you doing, Teddy?" I asked, approaching her desk.

    "Math," she responded without enthusiasm, returning to her task.

    "Do you need help?" As I asked, Teddy snorted mockingly, but upon realizing I was serious from my silence, she turned with intrigue and said, "You''re serious about helping me? You?"

    "Yes, why not?" I replied.

    "Well, basically, you''re PJ. You''re not the... brightest, in the family. Do you even think you can understand it?" she said, arranging her notebook and pencil aside for me to see.

    I wasn''t surprised that Teddy thought PJ was dumb. His past grades and his way of being, from what Mom told me, only showed someone not very smart. Maybe this approach isn''t well planned.

    "Well, I forgot a lot, but suddenly, school stuff seemed very easy to me. You can ask Georgie or Sheldon. They can tell you that I answered many questions correctly in class. Let me see," I lied as I crouched down next to her to look at her notes.

    They were simple first-grade equations.

    "Well, Teddy, to solve these types of equations, you need to find the value of the unknown represented by the letter ''x.'' By using the equal sign, you can rearrange the equation by moving terms to the other side. Do you know how to move terms to the other side of the equation?" I said.

    Without receiving a response, I turned to see Teddy looking at me with an expression of disbelief on her face.

    "What the heck? It''s true, now you''re much smarter," she said surprised. "Yes, I know how to move terms to the other side. You use the inverse operation, right?" she continued, taking the pencil and starting with the first equation.

    "Well, thank you for noticing my intelligence, and yes, you use the inverse operation. Although what you''re really doing is adding, subtracting, dividing, or multiplying the entire equation so that the result remains unchanged. If you subtract on one side of the equation, you subtract on the other side too, that''s why it appears as the opposite operation on the other side," I explained as I watched her work on her assignment.

    "Ah, now I understand. So, if I need to remove a number that''s multiplying ''x'' on the left side of the equation, I divide it by itself on both sides. Since it''s divided by itself on the left, it becomes 1, and on the right, it appears as a division," she said happily as she picked up the pace.

    "Correct" I said happy for her, but remembering her behavior i said "You know, you can talk to me if something bothers you,", noticing her happy expression fading.

    "Why do you say that?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

    "Well, I noticed you didn''t talk much during the ride home and didn''t say anything about your new school when Mom asked. Did something happen, Teddy?" I inquired.

    "No, nothing happened. Literally" said suddenly exploding "I don''t know anyone there, and everyone already knew each other from before, so no one talked to me. What if no one ever talks to me again? In Colorado, Ivy was all I needed¡ªmy best friend. Here, I don''t have a single normal friend," Teddy said, with tears welling up.

    Not quite sure what to say, I gave her a half-hug so she could cry on my shoulder. "Teddy, it might seem like you won''t have friends here, but give them time. They''re silly; they don''t know what they''re missing by not wanting to be your friend," I said. "And besides, if you don''t make friends, just wait one more year, and you''ll be in a school where your brother is the quarterback, and everyone will want to be your friend," I continued, making Teddy laugh a little.

    "Yeah, a quarterback who got selected because there was no one else," she said playfully.

    "Give me some time, and I''ll be the best quarterback this town has ever seen," I said as I let go of her and stood up. "Now, finish your homework, and I''ll go do mine," I continued, making way to leave her room.

    "PJ," she said suddenly, making me stop and turn around. "Thanks. I like the new you better. Maybe we should throw Gabe down the stairs," touched by what she said, I replied, "You''re welcome, Teddy."

    Outside her room, I heard footsteps running, and at the end of the hallway, I saw strands of blond hair, clearly Mom''s, disappearing around the corner.

    With a little laugh, I headed to my room, where I could hear the notes of a guitar.

    Gabe was playing one of his guitars again, going through them one by one in a circle. This time, when he saw me, he didn''t get embarrassed and continued playing as I prepared to do my homework.

    "You doing homework? After the first day of school?" Gabe said, surprised. "Who would''ve thought, losing your memory can change people," he added with a teasing snort.

    I ignored his joke and continued doing my homework. As I worked on the problems, my memory was becoming clearer, and they became easier to solve as I progressed.

    When I finished my homework, not even 30 minutes had passed since I started. Since I was done early, I figured I could practice a little.

    I went to the guest bathroom, where I knew Mom kept a first-aid kit, and took the tweezers and suturing thread. From the kitchen, I grabbed an orange and a knife and returned to my room.

    At my desk, with the desk lamp pointing at my hands, I let my muscle memory do its work. Continuous sutures*, interrupted sutures*, buried sutures*¡ªI performed one after another in a trance. This brought memories of my countless hours of practice in the university dormitories, working until late at night, reading books, and practicing with whatever I could find while my roommate watched different sports on his small TV, occasionally shouting over losing some kind of bet.

    Suddenly, snapping me out of my memories and making me realize there wasn''t much space left on the orange for cuts, a voice said, "What the heck are you doing with that orange? It looks like Frankenstein with so many cuts. Are you cooking it?" Gabe said, leaning over my shoulder. "It''s called suturing, dummy. Doctors do it to close the ends of a wound," I replied as I put the orange and the remaining tools in the top drawer of my desk.

    Seeing the intrigue on his face, I sighed and said, "Forget about that. Are you done practicing?" I quickly asked, changing the subject.

    "Yeah, I''m starting to get a blister on my thumb," he said, proudly showing me his thumb.

    "I see, that means you''re putting in effort, although I don''t want you to overexert yourself, little buddy. Mom would blame me," I said, standing up and tousling his hair. "Take the playbook and follow me. Let''s practice," I told him as I picked up the football from my desk.

    Outside, it was a beautiful day, and although it wasn''t very late, most people were inside their houses. Some were walking their dogs, and there were a few children riding their bikes.

    As I heard the door from the Cooper''s house, I turned to find Gabe with Bob. "Let''s practice those plays," Bob said, clapping his hands with the playbook in them.

    With the plays explained in the book, it was my job to be the quarterback, while Gabe played as the receiver, and Bob pretended to rush me, so I had to dodge him to throw the ball to Gabe. Overall, it was a lot of fun, although many of the passes didn''t connect because Gabe couldn''t turn in time or the ball slipped from his hands. Bob was quite slow, so it didn''t take much effort to evade his "quick" approaches.

    At some point during our "practice," a voice from the Cooper''s house said, "So, you finally decided on the best sport, huh, Bob?" Mr. Cooper, holding a beer in his hand, shouted from his backyard, greeting Bob.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    "No, George, I''m just helping my son practice, the quarterback," Bob boasted, waving back at Mr. Cooper.

    "You don''t have to show off to me; I''m the one who put him there, remember? He''s got good aim. Keep it up, PJ, don''t hurt yourself," Mr. Cooper replied with a smile on his face.

    "Why don''t you bring your kids over so we can all practice together?" Bob said to Mr. Cooper.

    With a nod, Mr. Cooper went back into his house and returned a moment later with Georgie and a somewhat annoyed Sheldon. "But Professor Proton is explaining how the potato generates electricity inside due to the acidity caused by *ascorbic acid," Sheldon said.

    "I told you it''s not possible. A potato is a vegetable and doesn''t generate electricity," Mr. Cooper responded, smiling and not looking at his son.

    "Tuber," Sheldon said. "What?" his father replied. "Potatoes are tubers, not vegetables," Sheldon replied, exasperated. "Whatever, the Duncans invited us to play, so that''s what we''ll do," Mr. Cooper said as he joined us.

    "So, you''re not satisfied with practicing at school, you also do it at home," Georgie said with mock annoyance as we high-fived. "Well, the championship won''t win itself," I replied with a smile that he mirrored.

    Mr. Cooper, without needing to look at the playbook, positioned us in convenient spots, with Georgie and me in our respective positions on the team. "I''m not going to touch the ball, and I don''t want to get hurt," Sheldon said, not moving from his spot. With a sigh of defeat, Mr. Cooper didn''t say anything and clapped, starting the game.

    We continued running plays from the playbook, switching positions on some and doing random things on others. Overall, it was a lot of fun.

    Once again, dodging Mr. Cooper, as Bob was "detained" by Georgie, I threw the ball to Gabe, who this time managed to catch it, thanks to Mr. Cooper''s advice. "And he scores!" Mr. Cooper celebrated with his arms raised, joined by Bob and Gabe. "Good throw, PJ. It still lacks power, but with that accuracy, we could make it to the state championships," Mr. Cooper said, giving my shoulder a shake.

    "The launch angle is incorrect; you lose power by releasing it at the midpoint of the total extension of your arm," Sheldon said suddenly.

    "Sheldon, I''ve been teaching football my whole life. The throw is good; it just needs a little more muscle in those bones, and it''ll be perfect," Mr. Cooper responded condescendingly to his son.

    "See, dork, the throw is good. You don''t know anything about football," Georgie said, annoyed.

    "It''s not football; it''s physics," Sheldon retorted, being petulant again.

    Deciding to ignore his son, Mr. Cooper repositioned us, this time swapping Gabe. "If Gabe touches you, it''s the same as getting tackled, PJ, so throw before he reaches you. This time, I''ll wait there, but let''s pretend I ran to that spot," Mr. Cooper said as he adjusted his position. Bob teased him, saying, "What''s the matter, George? Can''t run a few steps?" With a fake laugh, Mr. Cooper settled into place and clapped again.

    Dodging Gabe, I decided to follow Sheldon''s advice and waited for my arm to fully extend before throwing the ball. The football quickly flew into Mr. Cooper''s hands, and upon catching it, he let out a groan. "Phew, good arm. What was that? Were you hiding your strength, PJ?" he said, shaking his hands in pain.

    Looking at Sheldon with a smile, I said, "No, I just waited for my arm to fully extend before throwing."

    "As I said," Sheldon said with pride in his voice, "physics."

    Before anyone else could say anything, Mrs. Cooper yelled from the window of their house, "Kids, it''s dinner time!" and returned inside after giving us notice.

    With handshakes, Mr. Cooper and Bob said their goodbyes, and Georgie gave a high-five to both Gabe and me, saying, "See you tomorrow at school," before heading back to their house.

    Sheldon waved from afar to everyone and walked back to his house.

    "Well, kids, we need to go inside too. I have to make dinner before your mom thinks about it," Bob said as he headed back to the house.

    After quickly showering to wash off the dirt and sweat, I joined my family for dinner.

    The next day, after returning from my daily run and taking a shower, Bob dropped me off at school since he didn''t have any client meetings this time, giving Mom enough time to take Gabe and Teddy and avoiding me having to go with Georgie and Mr. Cooper.

    Arriving at school, I met up with my friends in the hallway, taking things from their lockers, conveniently located next to each other. Approaching mine, the last of the five neighboring lockers, I greeted everyone.

    "How''s our quarterback today?" Alan said with mock reverence. "Georgie was telling us you can''t go long without training, huh, superstar?" Broke chimed in teasingly while giving me some friendly pats on the back.

    "Well, I have to train to be able to carry all the weight of this team", I said, pointing at his belly, which made my other friends laugh at the joke.

    "Whatever," Broke replied, pretending to be annoyed.

    "Hey Georgie, isn''t that your brother?" David said, pointing towards the hallway.

    Dodging taller students, Sheldon hurried through the school hallway with a few books in one hand and his portfolio in the other.

    Georgie looked irritated and continued organizing his locker, ignoring his brother.

    Feeling sorry for the boy, I shouted, "Sheldon!" making him turn his head towards me. With a hand gesture, I motioned for him to come over, and he walked towards us. "Good morning, PJ," he greeted me. "Why aren''t you on your way to class? Mrs. MacElroy could be there already," he said urgently. Checking my watch, I realized there were still a few minutes left before the first period bell, so I chuckled and replied, "We were on our way when I saw you. Join us." I guided him by the shoulders to stand in front of me.

    Georgie whispered with annoyance in his voice, "What are you doing?"

    "I''m just guiding him to his first class. Look, people might step on him if he''s not careful," I whispered back, pointing at his brother. Probably feeling guilty for my remark, Georgie nodded, and we all headed towards the first-period class.

    Once we reached the classroom, Sheldon immediately let go of my grip and sat in his seat. When the bell rang, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled gratefully, giving me a thumbs-up.

    Mrs. MacElroy entered with her head held high and a wide smile on her face, showing her evident lack of mustache. Her attention focused on Sheldon, who didn''t say anything about her appearance.

    The class continued as usual after that, but for some reason, many of the teacher''s questions were directed at me specifically. "Duncan, can you conjugate this verb for me, please?" or "Duncan, is this spelling correction correct?" The more questions she asked me, the more Sheldon frowned and turned his body towards me.

    At the end of the class, Mrs. MacElroy asked me to stay behind. "Evelyn told me to ask you to avoid Sheldon correcting me," she said. "Evelyn?" I asked. "Yes, Mrs. Ingram," she replied. "I see she was right. Duncan, keep answering the questions correctly, and I''ll give you some extra points at the end of the term, if you need them. Now, you may leave." She began to review some papers on her desk.

    I hope this doesn''t continue, or Sheldon will hate me.

    Unfortunately, during the second-period science class, Mr. Givens, who smelled strongly of aftershave lotion, directed many questions at me, ignoring Sheldon''s raised hand as much as he could.

    At the end of the class, the same process repeated. Mr. Givens asked me to stay behind, and he promised me extra points at the end of the term and allowed me to leave.

    In the cafeteria, at the table with my friends and teammates, I was eating my lunch peacefully until Broke, sitting next to me, tapped my shoulder and pointed beside me.

    Sheldon, standing tall as he could, had an expression of arrogance as he handed me a piece of paper. "What is this, Sheldon?" I asked. "It''s a declaration of duel. From now on, I''ll answer more questions than you and get the best grades. Just wait and see, PJ Duncan. I will defeat you!" he exclaimed, turning around to leave when he finished.

    With my friends laughing and teasing me about what happened, I continued eating my lunch, ignoring the ongoing taunts, until I was tapped on the shoulder again.

    "Sheldon, I understand what a declaration of duel is. You don''t have to..." I started saying until I turned completely and saw a very cheerful blonde girl next to another two girls behind her.

    "You''re PJ Duncan, right? Nice to meet you. I''m Regina, and these are Gretchen and Karen," she said, greeting the other two girls with a nod. "We had Mrs. Ingram''s class during the second period, and she told us you could give us tutoring on the topics we didn''t understand, if you have time," she said, shaking my hand with a flirtatious tone and playing with her hair in her other hand.

    "Sure, I can help you with whatever you need. But rigth now I can''t do it, how about next week? We''re pretty busy with training this week," I replied kindly to the girl, pointing at my teammates. "Next week sounds amazing," Regina responded with a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, PJ," she said, still playing with her hair as she bid farewell, followed by her two friends who also said their goodbyes. My friends and teammates were completely infatuated and continued saying their goodbyes even after the girls were out of sight.

    "Wow, that girl is totally hot, and she was totally hitting on you, buddy. You have to take me with you when you do those ''tutoring'' sessions," Broke said, sitting next to me, the first to snap out of the trance.

    During the last period of the day, in math class, Mrs. Ingram was teaching as usual. As she warned, her questions were related to the topics she had given me. So whenever only Sheldon raised his hand, which happened almost every time, I would also raise mine. The more questions I answered, the more I could see Sheldon''s anger growing.

    At some point he lowered his head in sadness, and I started feeling bad. Sheldon was still a child, a very intelligent one, but still a child. I didn''t raise my hand in some questions, letting Sheldon answer each time. Whenever this happened, Mrs. Ingram looked at me with desperation in her face, but for her tranquillity, seemingly motivated by the competition, Sheldon only answered the question correctly and remained silent to wait for the next one.

    The class continued with this back-and-forth of questions and answers until the end of the period.

    Already accustomed to teachers'' requests, I stayed until the last person left the classroom. Sitting in front of Mrs. Ingram''s desk, I waited for her to finish writing on a paper, which I assumed were more topics.

    "You didn''t study all the topics in-depth, or why didn''t you raise your hand? You know the answers very well, so I don''t think you didn''t know the answer," the teacher said, somewhat annoyed.

    "Sheldon is still a child, ma''am, and he challenged me to a duel of questions, which, although a bit childish, I accepted. So I don''t want to have an advantage over him based on tricks," I said, handing back the paper. "I appreciate that you offered me extra points, but I''d like to earn them on my own merit. Sheldon will be focusing on our competition, so he won''t bother you as much in class, and it''ll push me to study more. Everyone wins," I explained as I stood up.

    "Okay, Duncan, I understand. Anyway, I don''t think you need the extra points. You and Cooper are the only ones who answer correctly," she said, a bit defeated.

    "Thank you for understanding," I said as I walked towards the door, stopping in the doorway. "By the way, did you tell Regina, Gretchen, and Karen from the other group that I could help them with their studies?" I asked.

    "No, I probably mentioned that you and Cooper are the only ones who answer my questions correctly, but nothing more," she replied.

    "Oh, okay. See you, Mrs. Ingram," I bid farewell, leaving the classroom.

    I joined my friends, who were waiting in the school locker room, already wearing their uniforms. "There he is, the superstar," Broke said with fake applause, "arriving late because nobody is worth your time," he continued joking.

    "Yeah, yeah, shut up, Broke. We have to train," I replied.

    Outside on the school field, the coaches were already waiting for the team, which was finally complete with the five of us. With some warm-up exercises, we began training before splitting into two teams. Coach Wilkins stayed with the defensive team, while Mr. Cooper remained with the offensive team.

    While practicing one of the plays in the playbook, Alan, who was standing behind me, discreetly pointed to one end of the field, where the cheerleaders were practicing.

    Among the cheerleaders was Regina, who happily greeted me when she noticed that I noticed her.

    After finishing training and taking a quick shower in the locker rooms, everyone went home.

    -------------------------------------

    Glossary

    *Continuous Suture: In the continuous suture, the stitches are connected along the wound.

    Interrupted suture: A suture in which each stitch is separately tied.

    *Buried sutures: The knot is buried by placing the suture using an inverted technique in which the suture loop begins in the dermis.

    *Ascorbic acid or Vitamin C: It is a colorless, odorless, solid crystal, soluble in water, with an acidic taste.

    *Ovoid: A closed symmetrical curve with respect to its concave axis, formed by four arcs of a circumference: one of them is a semicircle, and the other two are equal and symmetrical.

    -------------------------------------

    Author''s Thoughts

    Once again, I''m not American, nor a doctor, nor a mathematician (Sorry, I''m a creature of routine).

    Boom! This chapter is relatively long and includes a small math class in it (you''re welcome).

    The first person to tell me where the three new supporting characters are from will receive an incredible prize (there''s no prize, though). The first subplot of this arc is just around the corner, and I''m very excited.

    I need to make some clarifications:

    1. In the original movie (Boom, a hint!), it is not mentioned that the three girls are cheerleaders, but for the sake of the plot, I''m assuming they are.

    2. I''m not sure if it''s the same in the United States, but at least it''s like this in Mexico: the same school grade can have several groups of students, like Group A, Group B, Group C. In the story, for the sake of the plot, there will only be two groups: A (where the MC is) and B (where the MC is not, duh).

    3. The interaction with Teddy might seem tedious, but it served as a pretext to bring up the whole math topic and to have the MC approach and talk to his sister. As you know, one of the MC''s desires and promises is that his family should be happy, so he''ll be deeply concerned about her (unlike the MC in DAD...).

    4. Someone mentioned that there are different football teams in High School depending on the year the players are in. I''ll pretend it''s not the case, so I apologize if it bothers anyone, but there will only be one team, the one where the MC plays.

    I think that''s all.

    As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    (I believe that with 7 chapters, you can leave your review now. Please do it; I hope to read your reviews to know what I need to work on more, I beg you.)

    Thank you for reading

 Daily Drama - Chapter 8

    Quickly the week had passed.

    With my constant morning runs, training at school, and adding some strength exercises as recommended by Coach Wilkins. Gradually, I was gaining endurance; I didn''t get tired as quickly, and I could run as fast as I can a few seconds more. Along with the strength exercises and Sheldon''s advice, my throws were gaining more power every day, enough to please Mr. Cooper.

    "I''m sure that if you keep improving the way you are doing, we can win the game coming up in two weeks," Mr. Cooper commented after Friday''s training with a wide smile.

    I put all my effort into each training session, giving my all in the passes, trying to execute the plays as outlined in the book, and supporting my teammates when they needed it. Coach Wilkins and Mr. Cooper noticed my dedication, often congratulating me in front of everyone in the locker room after training.

    Regina also noticed, along with the cheerleading team, who constantly cheered my name on the field.

    This seemed to trigger some jealousy among my teammates, as they started viewing our activities as a competition. They frequently challenged me to races or asked for more challenging passes. Overall, the training sessions were very productive for both me and my teammates.

    After school, Georgie and I played with Gabe at home, practicing some of the plays from the book while having fun. Occasionally, Mr. Cooper or Bob would join us to spend quality time together.

    Throughout the week, I continued to help Teddy with her homework. Even though she seemed not to need my assistance, she was always happy to accept it while telling me about her day and the school gossip.

    Gabe would continue to practice his guitar for a few hours before bed, which helped me relax a bit.

    In other words, I was living a happy life with my family and friends.

    Today is Sunday, and I''m at the comic book store with Gabe, waiting for mom to return with the purchases.

    "PJ, do you think if a radioactive spider bites me, I''ll get powers like Spiderman?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the comic book.

    "I highly doubt you''ll find a radioactive spider, buddy. But even if you do, no, I don''t think it''ll give you powers," I replied, flipping through a Doctor Strange comic, which apparently is his real name, not just a nickname.

    Leaving the comic where I found it, I looked through the other shelves to see what caught my attention. Superheroes were never really my thing, although I heard about some famous movies in my previous life, I never got around to watching them, so I don''t know what the big fuss is about.

    Near some action figures, I picked up a book with a guitar on the cover. On the book cover, I read "Learn to Play Guitar: A Guide to Playing the Best Songs." This would be perfect for Gabe, who was just strumming the guitar without much guidance from me. I can''t teach him much, so this book will be a great help.

    "What do you have there?" Gabe suddenly asked, standing behind me.

    "It''s a book to learn how to play the guitar," I said as I handed it to him, "take it, it can be useful."

    I noticed in his other hand he had several comic books and some dollar bills. With a frown on his face, he was evaluating what to buy.

    "Leave it, I''ll give it to you as a gift," I said, taking the book back.

    "Perfect, thanks PJ," he quickly replied and ran off, probably thinking I might change my mind.

    Mom didn''t give me money to buy comic books, but PJ had a few hundred dollars saved up hidden in a sock and since Bob knew I made it to the team, he had been giving me money daily. "You deserve it, quarterback, my son. Don''t tell your siblings; I''ll keep giving them their allowance only on Sundays," I remember him saying with pride.

    After paying for the book for Gabe, I waited by the counter as he finished purchasing the comics he had in his hand. When he was done, we left the store.

    "Come on, Gabe, I want to go into RadioShack," I said as we crossed the street.

    Inside RadioShack, there was a lone salesperson who forced a smile upon seeing us. "Hi, welcome to RadioShack. I''m Dave. How can I help you?"

    "Hey, Dave, I just came to ask a few questions," I replied, trying to mimic his cheerfulness.

    "This place will be here forever!" suddenly, I heard someone shout from behind me in a high-pitched voice.

    Turning around, I saw Sheldon and Mrs. Cooper entering the store.

    "Oh, hi, PJ, what a pleasant surprise to find you here," Sheldon said cheerfully when he met me, "Gabe," he continued with less enthusiasm.

    "Hey, robot, are you here for more parts?" Gabe asked without looking up from his book, which he had opened when we entered the store.

    "Hi, Sheldon, good morning, Mrs. Cooper," I greeted, returning the salutation and acknowledging her mom while giving Gabe a small nudge discreetly.

    "Hello, PJ, Gabe, good morning. Are you here with your mom?" Mrs. Cooper greeted us happily, stretching her neck to look inside the store.

    "Yes, but she''s shopping. In fact, she shouldn''t be long; we were at the comic book store not too long ago," I replied.

    "Ah, comics," Sheldon scoffed playfully. "Sure, children''s books," he said, trying to mock Gabe.

    "Yeah, you wouldn''t understand; you''re a robot," Gabe retorted, still not taking his eyes off his reading.

    Disappointed that his attempt to offend Gabe failed, Sheldon walked away to talk to Dave.

    "Well, I hope we can meet up. George wanted to invite your dad for a barbecue and watch the game, so I thought about inviting your mom to have tea with me," Mrs. Cooper said with a smile.

    "If you''d like, I can tell my mom. Oh! Forget it; there she comes," I said, pointing outside the store where Mom was walking in with a paper bag full of groceries.

    Taking the bag from her hands, I separated from the ladies, who had started a conversation.

    Dave was talking to Sheldon in front of a computer. "This is the Tandy 1000; it''s a somewhat old model but still very functional," Dave said with his salesman smile. "Don''t tell anyone, but it''s rumored that the Tandy 1000 SL will arrive in stores in a few months," he continued, whispering to Sheldon.

    "That''s a great computer, Dave. I have a question for you," I said from behind them, making both of them jump in their places.

    "Of course, tell me what you need. Maybe a floppy disk or possibly a Walkman to listen to music," he said quickly while grabbing things from the shelves.

    "No, nothing like that. I just wanted to know what you know about Microsoft," I asked quickly, cutting off his sales pitch.

    "Microsoft was founded in 1975 in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was founded by Bill Gates and Paul Allen," Sheldon answered while playing with the computer beside him.

    Seeing that I wasn''t going to buy anything, Dave excused himself and approached another customer a few steps away.

    I didn''t know much about the stock market, but thanks to my paramedic partner who never stopped talking about it, I knew that 10 years after Microsoft''s founding, their stocks were worth $20. If someone had invested those $20 in a stock for 1990, they would now have $6,000, and by the year I died, it would be $49,000. If I could invest my money right now in Microsoft stocks 15 years after its founding, I could become rich.

    I need to act fast, but I also need to get more money. At the moment, I only had a few hundred dollars. Lost in thought about how to get more money and watching Sheldon use the computer, I didn''t notice the time until Mrs. Cooper called out, "Shelly, it''s time to go. See you later, PJ. Goodbye, Gabe," as she called for Sheldon.

    "Let''s go too, PJ," said Mom, who had her hands on Gabe''s shoulders, and he still had his face buried in the book.

    On the way home, Gabe quickly ran inside, saying, "I have to try this," holding the book in his hand.

    Alone with Mom in the car, I touched her shoulder and asked, "So, when will you tell Dad about the pregnancy?" My question seemed to surprise Mom, and she remained motionless in the car.

    "Well, it''s not the right time yet, you know. Your dad is so happy about the new job, finally, Teddy is smiling more, and you''re getting along so well with her and Gabe. I''m starting to work again tomorrow. I''m not sure if I can tell him. What if I ruin all the happiness, or what if your dad gets even more stressed? What if-" I interrupted her gently, pressing her shoulder, "That won''t happen, Mom. It''s just your emotions talking," I reassured her.

    "You''re right, PJ, but I can''t do it today. Your dad is with George, watching the game. I don''t want to bother him. Maybe tomorrow," she said, pointing to the Cooper''s backyard, where Bob and Mr. Cooper were in front of the grill with beers in their hands.

    Getting out of the car, I accompanied Mom inside the house, leaving the grocery bag on the kitchen table. "You can tell him whenever you''re ready, but I think the sooner, the better," I said as I began to put things away.

    Noticing her unusual silence, I finished putting things away and turned to check if she had heard me.

    With a small smile of pride on her face, Mom said, "Teddy was right; the bump to your head made you much more attentive and wise," she pulled me into a tight hug, "thank you, PJ. Now, go join your dad and Mr. Cooper; they might need help," she continued as she let go of the hug.

    At the Cooper''s house, Bob, Mr. Cooper, and Georgie were tending to some cuts of meat on the grill. The adults had beers in their hands, while Georgie had a soda.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    When they saw me approach, Bob said with pride, "Here comes the best quarterback Texas has."

    "The team captain! Bob, let me tell you, thanks to PJ, all the other players are working so hard during training," Mr. Cooper said, happily taking a sip of his beer.

    "That''s my son, the role model," Bob said, puffing his chest and patting my shoulder. "Tell me, what did he do?" he continued, turning to Mr. Cooper.

    Leaving the adults to talk, I approached Georgie, who had moved to a cooler a few steps away from the grill.

    "Hey, superstar," Georgie said, giving me a friendly punch on the shoulder before handing me a soda.

    "I ran into your brother at the tech store," I told him as we took a seat in the Cooper''s garden chairs.

    "He was probably buying some parts," Georgie said disdainfully, making fun of his brother.

    With a laugh, I said, "That''s what Gabe said". "You''re lucky to have a normal brother; I''d do anything to trade him," Georgie said, laughing at the coincidence, "you have Missy, and Gabe is my brother, I wouldn''t change him for anything," I replied.

    We continued talking about unimportant school things for a few minutes until Mrs. Cooper arrived with Sheldon and Mom, Teddy, and Missy, who seemed to be talking with the older girl.

    Bob asked Georgie and me to bring a folding table from our garage.

    Everyone sat around the folding table in the Cooper''s backyard, enjoying the grilled meat while watching the game on the TV, which Mr. Cooper had set up with extensions.

    Teddy constantly asked Missy, her little friend, questions about the game. Georgie, more accustomed to Teddy''s presence, was watching the game with a furrowed brow.

    "You know, Amy, George says your son has a girlfriend," Bob said with a teasing smile, causing me to choke on my food, and Mom let out a cheer of excitement, "is that true? What''s her name PJ?" she asked excitedly.

    Before I could answer, Georgie quickly said, "Her name is Regina George, and she''s totally hot," patting my shoulder playfully with a hint of envy in his smile.

    "Yes, she''s well-known at school. I even know who she is. Everyone talks about her," Sheldon said, cutting a piece of meat carefully.

    With another cheer of excitement, Mom said, "Why didn''t you ever tell us about her?" with enthusiasm.

    "Because she''s not my girlfriend; she just does her cheerleader job when we train. Keep watching the game and stop making up nonsense," I said, playfully giving Georgie a little tap on the back of his head.

    "Sure, her ¡ä¡äjob¡ä¡ä as a cheerleader. She only says hello to you and always does cheers with your name," Georgie said, munching his food, rather disgustingly.

    "She is totally interested in you" Teddy said suddenly, "totally!" Missy echoed.

    "You two as well?" I said to both of them, "She''s not my girlfriend, she''s just a friend who needs help studying," I said exasperatedly.

    "Oh, sure, you mean a study date," Teddy teased, making fake kissing noises in the air, followed by Missy mimicking her.

    Laughing at what they said, "That bump made you more attentive, but completely blind to girls, it seems. She likes you, PJ," Mom said happily.

    "Whatever it may be, even if she does like him, she can''t be his girlfriend. The school rules don''t allow relationships between students," Sheldon said haughtily.

    "Oh, Shelly," Mrs. Cooper said, embracing her intrigued son''s head.

    We continued in the Cooper''s backyard until it started to get dark. Mr. Cooper brought the TV inside the house, and Mrs. Cooper put her younger children to bed for their night routine. After saying our goodbyes, Georgie and I returned the folding table to the garage and parted ways.

    I went to sleep with many questions in my head about Regina. She couldn''t actually like me, right?

    The next day, I woke up early, as my body had become accustomed to it. I turned off the alarm before it rang to not disturb Gabe''s sleep and got ready to go for a run.

    The early mornings were very quiet; occasionally, I''d pass a woman running her morning jog or people walking their dogs. At this hour, there were many elderly people slowly strolling along the sidewalk.

    After running my course, I returned home and did some push-ups in the front yard, followed by squats and a few crunches.

    Entering the house, Bob was already sitting, reading the newspaper while having breakfast, and Mom was preparing packed lunches in paper bags, dressed in her nurse uniform. With a quick greeting to both of them and grabbing a glass of water Mom had poured for me, I headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

    Back in the kitchen after my morning hygiene routine, I grabbed a banana from the counter and said, "I''m running out of shampoo, Dad. Can you pick up another bottle on your way home later this afternoon?" I asked.

    With a surprised look on his face, Bob said, "What? Are you almost finished with it? But we bought it not even a week ago. How can you be running out of shampoo already?" he asked incredulously.

    "Well, I shower every day, and as the barber recommended, I use it twice a day," I explained as I continued eating my banana.

    Noticing the silence from my parents, I looked up to see them with wide eyes, astonished.

    "What?" I asked as I took another bite of the fruit.

    "Bathing every day is a big surprise," Bob explained, "well, with your morning runs, you naturally need to take a shower. You arrive sweating a lot," Mom said.

    "Yes, exactly. That''s why I shower daily; otherwise, I''d stink when I get to school," I said.

    "You already stink," Gabe said suddenly, entering the kitchen.

    "That''s not true. Yes, you used to smell really bad," Teddy also entered the kitchen, "but now, you smell nice. Is that some kind of cologne?" she asked after taking a whiff.

    "Yeah, I use a little cologne after my shower. Smells good, right?" I responded, bringing my shirt up to her nose.

    "Yes, it smells nice," she said, taking a seat to serve herself some cereal.

    After finishing breakfast, Mom, along with Gabe and Teddy, said their goodbyes, "PJ, remember you''ll be going home with Mary Cooper today. Your dad won''t be able to pick you up, so she''ll do you a favor and bring you home for a few days."

    "Okay, good luck on your first day, Mom," I said as I bid them farewell.

    Arriving at school, Bob stopped me before I could get out of the terrible van after opening the door, "good luck today, son," he said, "and be a gentleman with Regina. That''s how I won your mother over," he continued, giving me a few friendly taps on the shoulder.

    "We''re just going to study-" I was about to say, but Bob interrupted, "see you later, PJ," he said, pushing me out of the van.

    School went like any other day, with classes in different periods happening as usual. Sheldon and I competed to answer questions and submit work quickly. I constantly lost because my friends and classmates kept stopping me, asking questions that I happily answered.

    In the cafeteria, we were discussing yesterday''s game when David interrupted us, "is that your mom, Georgie?" he said, pointing to the cafeteria entrance where Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Cooper stood. As Georgie noticed them, Mrs. Cooper pointed to her youngest son, who was sitting alone at a table, eating.

    "Yes, she is," He quickly replied, lowering his gaze and ignoring his parents.

    "I think she wants us to eat with Sheldon," I said after waving to Mrs. Cooper.

    "He''s not going to let that happen; he even told you that he didn''t want to," Georgie said. "No, he told me he didn''t want to eat with you because you smell bad, which is true, Brock, buddy, when was the last time you used deodorant?" I asked my big friend sitting next to me. "Deodorant?" he asked confused.

    With a complicit smile, Alan said, "Never mind, big guy."

    Laughing, I stood up to talk to Sheldon, "where are you going?" Georgie quickly asked. "I''m going with your brother. I''ll keep him company for a few minutes. I''ll be right back."

    As I turned to start walking, I bumped into someone. "Oops, sorry Karen, are you okay?" Karen, whom I had bumped into, was rubbing her head as she nodded to my question, "yes, she''s fine. It wasn''t your fault, PJ," Regina, who was standing next to her friend, quickly said, "good morning, by the way, how are you?" she said with a charming smile while playing with her hair.

    "Good morning, Regina, Gretchen," I replied, "I''m fine, thank you," I answered her question, standing in my place. A few seconds later, feeling a bit awkward, I said, "well, see you later," and prepared to leave. "Wait," Regina said, holding my arm to stop me, "last week we agreed that you''d help us study. How about today after school?"

    "I can''t today; I have to leave early, but how about tomorrow during the free period in the library?" I responded apologetically. We hadn''t set a date yet, but today I had to go with Mrs. Cooper, and she always picked up Sheldon early.

    With a forced smile, Regina said, "sure, tomorrow during the free period in the library. Sounds great, doesn''t it?" she said the last part to her friends, who simply nodded.

    "Perfect, then see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Regina, Gretchen, sorry about the bump, Karen," I bid them farewell.

    "It''s okay, it doesn''t hurt anymore. By the way, PJ, you smell really nice," Karen said as she said goodbye with an exaggerated wave.

    "Thanks," I replied, "it''s a lotion I use in the mornings," I continued.

    "See you tomorrow," Regina quickly said, pulling her friends along.

    "You have to tell me your secret, friend," Brock said, sitting behind me.

    "Yeah, how do you get the hot girls to talk to you?" Georgie asked.

    "Well, I just treat them with respect and smell good. You guys should try it," I teased them.

    "It must be your position on the team, Superstar," David said, also jealous.

    "Whatever it is, it works," Alan said as he continued eating.

    "Anyway, I''m going with Shel¡ª" I was about to say when the bell interrupted me; it was time for the next period.

    The day continued as usual, and at the end of school, I said goodbye to my friends and followed Sheldon to the school''s exit, where Mrs. Cooper was waiting in her car with Missy and Teddy, who were talking about different things, ignoring Gabe, who still had the guitar book open in his hands.

    "Hi, Shelly, PJ, how was your day?" Mrs. Cooper greeted us when we got into the car, "it was a good day, Mom," He replied, "I answered 62% more questions than PJ," Sheldon said, puffing out his chest as he smiled smugly.

    With an uncomfortable smile, Mrs. Cooper said, "and how was your day, PJ?"

    "It was a good day, thank you, Mrs. Cooper," I said before turning in my seat, "I took it a bit easy, but starting tomorrow, I''ll get really serious," I joked a bit with Sheldon, who was sitting in the back seat with Gabe.

    Immediately losing his smile, Sheldon said, "weren''t you serious before?" surprised, "no, I''ve been answering slowly because I also help my friends and your brother," I responded, not giving much importance to the matter, "well, thanks for that, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said as she drove.

    "I saw that girl today, very cute, was she Regina?" Mrs. Cooper asked, remembering.

    "Yes, she was Regina with her friends Gretchen and Karen, who, by the way, got hit by PJ''s chest," Sheldon said.

    "Great job, PJ, that''s how you win a girl over, hitting her friends," Teddy teased, "yeah, next, you should put glue in her hair," Missy added.

    The teasing continued in Mrs. Cooper''s car, and Sheldon didn''t say much on the way home; he had a frown on his face as he thought, and Mrs. Cooper tried to get information about Regina from me, which I didn''t have to give; I didn''t know her well.

    "Thanks, Mrs. Cooper," I said as I got out of the car, "see you tomorrow, Sheldon, bye, Missy," I continued saying my goodbyes.

    At home, Gabe quickly ran to our room, where I could hear some music coming from his guitar.

    With Teddy, I sat at the kitchen table to start our homework, as we had done routinely.

    "So, Regina, do you like her?" she asked, trying to hide her interest by pretending to write in her notebook.

    "I don''t know, Teddy. Yes, she''s cute, but I don''t know her well," I replied. To me, Regina was just a teenager; it didn''t make sense for me to like her, despite being in the body of a teenager like her.

    "Well, you''ll study with her, won''t you? There, you can get to know her better," she said, still writing in her notebook.

    "Yes, but I won''t just study with her, I''ll also study with her friends," I clarified as I continued doing my homework, "let''s change the subject. What happened at school today? Did you hang out with Baja again?" I asked as I continued with my work.

    Time passed quickly, and at some point, Mom came home from work, followed a few minutes later by Bob.

    Sitting at the dining table, serving food, "Mom, how was your new job?" I asked.

    "It went very well. Almost everyone is very nice. I met all the doctors there and ran into Dr. Richards again, the one who examined you when you hit your head. He asked about you," she said, smiling.

    "Almost everyone is nice?" I asked, "was there someone annoying?"

    "Yes, this doctor. Everyone respects him; they say he''s an excellent doctor, a genius, but he''s very unpleasant," she said with a disgusted look.

    "Unpleasant in what way, dear? Should I go ''talk'' to him?" Bob said as he chewed his food.

    "No, not unpleasant in that way, just very condescending. He wouldn''t take any patients, even though I was handing him their files," she said, annoyed.

    "And if he doesn''t accept patients, why do they let him work there?" I said, now a bit annoyed as I cut my meat on my plate.

    "Well, according to the head nurse, he''s a highly renowned infectious disease specialist. I think his name was Gregory, Gregory House," she said, recalling.

    --------------------------------

    Author''s Thoughts

    I am not American, and I know absolutely nothing, not to mention less than nothing, about the stock market. The data I used for this chapter comes from the website MyWallst.com, and I''m not sure if the information is correct.

    Boom! This chapter is somewhat short (just kidding, it''s long).

    I''d like to clarify a few things:

    1. In the previous chapter, the MC tells Teddy to wait one more year. In the original series wiki, it''s stated that PJ is two years older than Teddy, but for the sake of the plot, we''ll ignore that and say he''s only one year older.

    2. Dr. House takes place in New Jersey, but let''s imagine together that the hospital in Medford is a big hospital, big enough to have House there, so let''s pretend it''s in Texas.

    3. Another difference between the original DAD and this novel is that there''s no system. I''m sorry if you were expecting there to be one.

    And that''s it, I think that''s all.

    As always, if you find an error, please comment, and I''ll correct it right away.

    Thank you very much for reading.

    Leave a review; I really appreciate hearing how I can improve.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 9

    After lunch, as usual, Gabe and I went out to the garden to throw the ball.

    "With the tuning pegs, you can adjust the pitch of each string. The strings produce a note on their own when played open, but when you press them at certain points on the fretboard, which is the longest part of the guitar, this note can change. There are seven natural notes," said Gabe excitedly as we threw the ball, "but since the guitar only has six strings, you have to press different strings on any of the frets, which are the divisions on the fretboard, to get the other two notes," he continued with a big smile.

    Smiling, I nodded and listened to what Gabe was saying. "What''s up?" Gabe asked when he noticed my silence and smile.

    "Oh, nothing. I''m just glad you''re enjoying learning the guitar," I said as I threw the ball back to him.

    Gabe didn''t say anything, but his broad smile told me he was happy.

    We continued playing for a few more minutes until Georgia came out of the Cooper''s house, looking annoyed, still wearing his backpack.

    "What''s up, Georgie?" I asked, waving at him.

    "My mom asked me to sit with Sheldon during lunch tomorrow, so I escaped before she could force me," he said, tossing his backpack to the ground and asking Gabe for the ball.

    "So that''s why she were in the cafeteria today?" I asked, "She was worried because Sheldon doesn''t have anyone to sit with," I continued.

    "Haha, your mom was in the cafeteria at your school? I''m only nine, and even I know how embarrassing that is," Gabe teased Georgie, receiving the ball they threw at him.

    We finished playing as it started getting dark. Gabe and I said goodbye to Georgie before heading back into the house.

    Gabe quickly went to the bathroom to take a shower, while I grabbed an apple from the kitchen and headed to my room. But before I could enter my room, I was pulled into Mom and Bob''s room.

    "Shhh," Mom said, pressing her hand against my mouth, "you''ll wake up your father if you make so much noise," she said, even though I hadn''t made a sound, looking out of her room''s door towards the living room and speaking as quietly as possible.

    "What''s going on, Mom?" I asked, removing her hand from my mouth. "I tried to tell your Dad about the pregnancy, but I couldn''t do it. It''s like the universe is conspiring against me. I tried to tell him, but he started talking about termites in Uruguay and how they can destroy entire buildings in a matter of months. He seemed so happy talking about those insects that I couldn''t say anything. PJ, help me," she said, gripping my shirt.

    "I don''t know what I can do for you, Mom. Do you want me to tell him?" I asked, taking her hand to prevent her from ruining my shirt.

    "No! I have to tell him myself," Mom quickly replied in an agitated tone, "but I just can''t find the right moment." She continued, much calmer, "I don''t think there''s a perfect moment, Mom. You just have to tell him, and he''ll understand," I said, trying to calm her down even more.

    Still a little agitated, Mom started to breathe more steadily. I guided her to the bed and sat her down carefully. "He already has three children; I don''t think the news of a fourth will upset him too much," I said while patting her back.

    With a long sigh and a deep breath, she said resolutely, "You''re right, PJ. I''m just a bit anxious, that''s all. I''ll tell him tomorrow, without fear. I''ll just tell him, and that''s it." Suddenly, as if she remembered something, she said, "Even that doctor, House, knows about my pregnancy. I asked Dr. Richards if he had told him, but apparently, he didn''t. I don''t know how he found out. He said it was obvious, but no one else but you has figured it out." She said, intrigued.

    "Maybe he guessed it," I replied, "when he told you that you were pregnant, what did you say to him?" I asked.

    "Well, at first, I thought Dr. Richards had told him, so I got angry. When I asked him if Dr. Richards had told him, he just laughed and walked away without saying anything," Mom said, "then I went to ask Dr. Richards if he had told him, but he assured me that he hadn''t. So I don''t know how he could''ve guessed it."

    "He probably noticed your symptoms. Today at lunch, you felt nauseous once, you go to the bathroom frequently, you try to hide your fatigue but it''s evident, and most importantly, your mood has been changing," I commented, not paying much attention.

    Noticing Mom''s silence, I quickly looked back at her.

    "How do you know all that, PJ?" Mom asked, intrigued, with a furrowed brow.

    "Well, there are books about pregnancies in the school library, which is not strange at all, right?" I quickly lied, trying to change the subject with a nervous laugh.

    With a furrowed brow, Mom seemed to think for a few seconds until her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Oh, PJ," she said, pulling me into a hug, "you''re so worried about me that you started reading a book about pregnancies." She continued, squeezing me tightly in the already strong embrace, "you''re such a good son," she said, tearfully on my shirt.

    I gently patted her shoulder, trying to calm her.

    We stayed like that for a few minutes until Mom calmed down, pulled away from me with a tear-stained face, and said, "You stink, go take a shower," as she chuckled a little, still with mucus on her face.

    With a soft laugh, I said goodbye to Mom and headed to the bathroom that Gabe had vacated several minutes ago.

    After my shower, back in our room like every night for the past week, Gabe was playing one of the guitars. However, unlike last week, he was now paying special attention to his left hand, which was holding the thinnest part of the guitar.

    As for me, I was getting ready to practice some suturing again, but this time, instead of using an orange, I had grabbed a banana from the kitchen right after leaving the bathroom a few moments before.

    "In theory, if I press these three strings at the same time and strum," said Gabe, his face full of concentration.

    I watched as he pressed the strings with great force, causing the tips of his fingers to turn white and tremble a bit. When he strummed the strings with his right hand, a muted and completely out-of-tune sound came out, obviously not what he had hoped for. Disappointed, Gabe put the guitar aside and lowered his head in defeat, gazing at the palms of his hands.

    "I can''t do it," I heard him say as he clenched his hands in front of his face.

    Setting aside my suturing tools on the desk, I approached the dejected child and sat down beside him.

    "You know, when I lost my memory, I thought I couldn''t be the brother that you and Teddy deserved, or the son that Mom and Dad raised. But even with the memory loss, I remembered that I couldn''t just give up and not try. You might fail at first, yes, but if you keep trying, I promise you''ll succeed," I said calmly as I handed the guitar back to him and stood up.

    Returning to my desk, I waited for him to give it another shot. I started with a simple suture when I heard it.

    The clear sound of a note from the guitar.

    With a little triumphant shout, Gabe said, "That''s a C*," I congratulated him with a big smile, which he mirrored. After that, he continued playing notes on the guitar, explaining their names to me while I continued suturing. When there was no more room on the banana for another suture, I stored the tools and discarded the remaining parts after eating the fruit.

    Gabe continued practicing with his guitar for several more minutes until it was time to sleep.

    The next day, just as I had become accustomed to, my body woke up a couple of minutes before the alarm. I dressed in sportswear, laced up my running shoes, did some quick warm-ups in the living room, and headed out for my daily run.

    Returning after my strength exercises to the backyard, Mom and Bob were already awake. I took the glass of water that Mom had prepared for me, bid them farewell, and headed for a quick shower before grabbing a fruit for breakfast.

    On the way to school, Bob handed me ten dollars. "Here you go, PJ. Good luck in class, son, and give it your best at practice," he said, patting my back as I got out of his rather old truck.

    The first two periods were as usual, with Sheldon competing with me to answer questions and solve problems while I supported my classmates who asked for my help.

    During lunch, nothing out of the ordinary happened. I chatted with my friends about plays we could try during practice or upcoming movies.

    When the free period came, I went to the library where I had a study session planned with Regina, Karen, and Gretchen.

    The library had very few people, apart from the librarian, Miss Hutchins. "Good morning," I greeted her as soon as I entered.

    "Ah, PJ, how are you? Good morning. Are you here for a book? As I recall, you returned the book you borrowed last week," she said, intrigued.

    I had been visiting the library regularly as I needed to refresh some topics, so Miss Hutchins already recognized me. "I''m doing well, Miss Hutchins. I''m just here to study with some friends. They should be here any minute," I replied with a smile.

    "I''ve told you to call me Sheryl, PJ. You''re my favorite student. You''re one of the few people who treat me with decency and look me in the eyes when talking to me, well, except for Sheldon, but you know how he is," she said.

    "Yes, sometimes it''s hard to like that kid. Well, I''ll take a seat now. Thank you, Miss Hutchins," I said, ignoring her request; it felt weird to call her by her first name.

    I took a mathematics book from the nearby shelves and sat down at a long table in the corner of the library, starting to read while waiting for the girls to arrive.

    "Oh, PJ, hi, you''re studying mathematics, huh? I see. I''d be studying too if I hadn''t missed 7% of the total questions this semester," Sheldon said, haughtily, taking a seat at a table not far from mine.

    "Hello, Sheldon. Yes, I''m doing well, thanks for asking" I said ignoring his attempted attack. "What are you doing here? And why don''t you sit with¡ª" I was about to ask when Miss Hutchins interrupted me. "Try this," she said, leaving a yellow book on the table in front of Sheldon. "It''s been around a while, but it''s still quite popular," she said with a smile, "unlike me, who''s just been around a while," she continued, losing her smile, "Oh, hi again, PJ, I didn''t see you there," she said with a big smile as she walked away.

    "What do you have there, Sheldon?" I asked, trying to get closer to see the cover of the book.

    Taking the book and reading the title out loud, Sheldon replied, "How to Win Friends and Influence People," with a half-smile he said, "maybe this will help me."

    "Sheldon, you know that I am¡ª" I was saying until I was interrupted again.

    "PJ, there you are!" Regina exclaimed. "We didn''t know where the library was, so we had to ask for directions to get here," she continued with a slight smile, batting her eyelashes.

    "Hello, Regina. Where are Karen and Gretchen?" I asked. "Oh, they were coming behind me," she said, surprised and intrigued as she turned to look for her friends. "There they are! Girls, PJ is here," she shouted to her friends, who seemed lost in one of the library aisles.

    "Agh, Regina, there are no magazines of any kind here, not even about shoes. Isn''t this a library? Why are there only dumb books, and they don''t even have pictures?" Karen exclaimed in frustration, a bit disgusted.

    Hearing a chair being dragged, I saw Sheldon getting up from his seat, muttering under his breath, "books with pictures," and quickly leaving the library.

    Chuckling at the situation, I said, "So, shall we get started?"

    Each of them took a seat and got their notepads ready. "What do you need help with? First-degree equations, factorization, notable products?" I asked as I glanced through the pages of the book.

    "Well, I thought, why not? First, we''ll start with some questions about you. Before you can teach us anything, I''d like to know more about you, PJ. All we know is your name and that you''re the quarterback," Regina said, holding onto my arm.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "And you smell really nice," Karen said suddenly.

    "Yeah, that," Regina said, hugging my arm a little tighter.

    "Okay..." I said, feeling somewhat unsure, "as you know, my name is PJ Duncan. I have two siblings , my mom is a nurse, and my dad is an exterminator. We used to live in Colorado, but dad got a great opportunity for his company, so we moved here."

    "Wow, you come from another country," Karen said, eyes wide in surprise.

    "Karen, Colorado is in the United States," Gretchen said, exasperated.

    Still with my arm trapped in her hands, Regina leaned in closer to me. I could smell her perfume and the shampoo from her hair, which was too close to my face. "And what do you like to do in your free time, PJ from Colorado?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes rapidly.

    "I do some exercise in the mornings and enjoy playing with my brother Gabe," I said, a bit dazed by the scent.

    "Oh yes, some exercise," Regina said, pressing my arm and getting even closer.

    Feeling a bit uncomfortable in my pants, I was taken aback. Oh no, this is bad. It must be teenage hormones. I moved away slightly from Regina, but even with my arm still trapped, she followed and got even closer. I could feel her breasts against my arm, and I tried to hide the erection in my pants with a leg movement.

    "So, PJ, is there anything else you like to do outside of school?" she asked in a low voice, sounding very seductive.

    It''s hard to think; I could feel Regina''s breath on my neck, one of her hands caressing the side of my arm, and the other pressing against my bicep.

    With my mouth a bit dry, I stammered, looking at her lips, "Well, Regina, I, I..." until I was interrupted again.

    "Superstar!" Brock yelled as he appeared with my other three friends.

    Regina quickly let go of my arm, and I took the opportunity to adjust myself and hide my erection.

    "Hey, guys, you came! Take a seat; let me introduce you, although I think you already know each other. Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, these are my friends and teammates, Brock, Alan, David, and Georgie," I said with relief, introducing them as they took their seats and greeted the girls with some shyness.

    "Hi, guys," Regina said with a forced smile.

    "Did you guys already start?" Alan asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow at the short distance between Regina and me. "Studying, of course," he added after a moment.

    "No, we were just about to," I said, opening the book again. "So, what problems are you having?" I continued.

    "Why do math problems suddenly have letters? They used to be only numbers," Karen said, looking at her notebook with clear signs of effort on her face.

    And so, I began to explain to each one about the questions they had. We started with math doubts, then moved on to science and even English. Gretchen and Alan were the ones with the most questions, seeming more serious about their studies than the others. Georgie, David, and Brock seemed to compete for Karen''s attention, and she happily chatted with them about anything they came up with.

    Meanwhile, Regina took advantage of moments of silence between questions to ask me her own ''questions'': "Did you have a girlfriend in Colorado?" "What type of cologne do you use?" "Do you like dogs or cats?" questions of that sort.

    We continued studying until the bell for the next period rang. Gathering our things, we all walked together to the library''s exit.

    "Thank you so much for helping us study, PJ. I learned a lot today," Regina said again, with her hand on my arm.

    "Yes, PJ, thank you so much," Gretchen added, along with Karen, who continued chatting with my friends.

    "You''re welcome. If you need anything else, don''t hesitate to ask," I said, smiling at Regina.

    "Alright! See you later, PJ, guys," Regina said, giving me a kiss on the cheek and waving goodbye to my friends.

    "See you. Have a good day," Miss Hutchins said as the girls passed by her desk. She received no response, only lowered her head in defeat and continued with her work.

    "Karen is totally into me," Brock said suddenly, watching the girls walk away. "What? Are you blind, friend? It''s clear she was talking more with me," Georgie said, offended. "Guys, guys, you don''t know what''s in a lady''s heart like Karen''s. I do, and she clearly only had eyes for me," David said, raising his head proudly.

    Laughing at my friends'' antics, I began to walk out of the library, but Brock got in my way.

    He stopped me and allowed the others to leave the room.

    With seriousness, he said, "Brother, you have to arrange another study session with the girls. I need to talk to Karen again to prove to Georgie and David that she was into me," with a confident expression on his face.

    "Why don''t you go and talk to her yourself, ''brother''?" I asked mockingly.

    The question seemed to catch him off guard, and he couldn''t answer for a few seconds.

    Seeing him struggle, I felt sorry for him, so putting an end to his suffering, I placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Sure, man, I can invite them to study together again tomorrow. How about that?"

    Immediately, his expression brightened, and with enthusiasm, he said, "You''re the best, superstar!"

    "Yes, yes, you can pay me back later," I responded with a smile.

    After the last period I collected my things and tried to go talk to Sheldon. But again, Brock cut me off. "What do you think I should ask Karen tomorrow, maybe what her favorite food is so I know where to invite her to eat, or maybe what she likes to do in her free time" he said stopping me.

    "I don''t know friend, maybe you want to know her more before asking her out, what if you don''t like her?" I answered while giving room for the last classmate to pass.

    "I don''t care how she is, she''s hot, that''s what matters most mate" he said with resolution on his face.

    "We have to go or we''ll be late for practice." I said laughing at his nonsense.

    Fully equipped on the field, it was just the two of us missing again.

    With a wicked grin on his face, Coach Cooper blew his whistle to get our attention. "Since your quarterback arrived late, as a gift, he''ll make you do a few laps," he shouted after blowing his whistle again. "Run, ladies!"

    "Thank your quarterback for such a kind gift," Coach Wilkins said as he approached Coach Cooper to talk.

    My teammates came up to me with annoyed faces, giving me a small punch on the shoulder and muttering, "Thanks," as they passed.

    Running along the edge of the field, we crossed paths with the cheerleading team training. With a big smile, Regina yelled, "Let''s go, PJ!" Her two friends joined in, and Brock, who was running beside me, waved enthusiastically in their direction, not really caring if any of them waved back. Chuckling at my friend''s behavior, I returned the greeting with a slight hand gesture and, making an effort, started to pick up speed. I shouted, "Whoever overtakes me gets the right to ask me for help with any subject''s homework."

    This seemed to motivate several of my teammates, as they quickly followed, trying to pass me.

    I managed to beat everyone except David, who, in a final effort, surpassed me. Lying on the ground but with my arms up, I shouted, "Yes, I won''t be helping you with math homework anymore!" Laughing at his surprise, I helped him to his feet. "Yes, yes, it was just one assignment; I won''t be doing all your math homework forever, my friend."

    He stood there in amazement, saying, "What?" incredulously.

    "Yeah, it was just one assignment; I''m not doing all your homework forever," I said as I walked towards the coaches in the middle of the field ignoring his face of disbelief.

    "I hope you warmed up well, ladies. We''re going to train for real," Coach Wilkins said, blowing his whistle.

    "As you know, it''s defense with Coach Wilkins, offense with me," Coach Cooper said as he walked to one side of the field.

    The training went on as usual.

    In the end, Coach Cooper asked us to wait in the locker rooms.

    "As you know, next week is the first game of the season. I want you to eat well and rest as much as you need after each training session this week. If we stick to our plays, we can win," Coach Cooper said seriously.

    "Now Coach Wilkins has a few words for you," he said, allowing the coach to speak. "The team we''re facing has¡ª"

    He explained about the opposing team, their strengths and weaknesses, so we''d know what to focus on during the week''s training. When he finished, we were allowed to leave. Since I was driving with Coach Cooper and Georgie, I quickly took a shower to clean off the dirt and sweat and headed home.

    At the Cooper''s house, Teddy and Gabe were sitting at their kitchen table with Missy. Teddy seemed to be helping the two boys with their homework, so I joined them and provided more detailed explanations for the points that Teddy skipped over.

    When they finished, my siblings picked up their stuff, said goodbye to Missy, and with a thank you to Mrs. Cooper, we left to go home. On our way out, we crossed paths with Mr. Cooper, who was reading the newspaper on the living room couch alongside Sheldon, who had the book Miss Hutchins had given him today in his hand.

    It seemed like they had finished talking, as Sheldon was leaving. "George," Sheldon said, pausing for a moment and turning to speak with his father. After that, he walked away without noticing our presence.

    "See you later, Mr. Cooper. Thanks for driving me today," I said, receiving a wave in return.

    Back in our living room, I was peacefully reading my book when Gabe burst in laughing hysterically. "Oh, you should''ve seen it, PJ. The little genius approached me and said he was genuinely interested in me, so I made up a lot of things, and he believed it all."

    "You don''t have to tease him so much, Gabe. He has trouble relating to people; I think he was trying to be your friend. You should give him a chance; he''s your age, after all," I scolded him a bit.

    "Yeah, I don''t think so," Gabe said as he walked away, laughing. "Haha, I''m thirty in the body of a nine-year-old; how can he fall for that?"

    With a tired smile, I continued reading my book.

    After dinner today I went up to mom and asked her if she had told bob, "no, but I promise I''ll tell him tomorrow", she answered without much confidence.

    The next day at school, during lunchtime, at Brock''s insistence, I approached the table that the three girls had claimed.

    "Hi, girls, good morning," I greeted them as I stood in front of their table.

    "Hi, PJ, what''s up?" Regina said, smiling widely and adjusting her hair.

    "I was wondering if you''d like to study again today in the library, like yesterday," I said.

    "Yes, I''d love to," Regina responded quickly with a big smile, ignoring her friends who hadn''t answered the question.

    Without asking again, I looked at the other two girls, who simply nodded.

    After saying goodbye to the girls, I returned to my usual table.

    "There you go, we''ll see them in the library during the free period," I told my excited friend, who celebrated a bit.

    During the free period, my friends and I were once again sitting at the table in the library.

    Brock seemed very nervous, fidgeting in his seat with clenched hands, and muttering things under his breath as if he was talking to himself.

    "Are you okay, buddy?" I asked, making him lose his concentration.

    "Yeah, just a little nervous. I''m going to see Karen again, and I want to make a good impression," Brock said, adjusting his hair and straightening up in his seat.

    Ignoring my friends'' laughter, I gave him some reassuring taps on the shoulder.

    "Hey, PJ," I heard Regina cheerfully behind me, "and guys," she continued with less enthusiasm, "what are they doing here? I thought it would be just you and me this time," she asked me with intrigue.

    "Oh, no, I also invited my friends, and Karen and Gretchen. Aren''t they coming?" I asked, surprised.

    Regina seemed in shock, remaining silent for a moment, and her face had only a half-smile. "Oh, yes, of course, they must have stayed outside the library," she quickly said, snapping out of her daze, and she hurriedly left the library.

    Regina returned a few moments later with her friends, and they took their seats. We started just like the day before, answering their questions. Gretchen continued to ask many questions, and some of the questions she asked were repetitions from the previous day, but I didn''t mind, and I answered any doubts she had.

    Regina, who couldn''t sit beside me this time, continued asking me personal questions and adding details about her life.

    She frequently tried to get her hand closer to mine on the table, but wanting to avoid a repeat of yesterday''s incident, I avoided it.

    When the bell signaling the end of the period rang, the girls quickly left the library after a hasty goodbye.

    My friends started discussing something again, and Alan wasn''t involved.

    "I''m telling you, she laughed at my joke, not your imitation," David said arrogantly to Georgie.

    Ignoring my friends and laughing a bit, I left the library after bidding farewell to Miss Hutchins.

    The day went by smoothly; there was no training today, so I left with Georgie and Mr. Cooper in his car.

    At home, nothing special happened. I helped Teddy with his homework, played with Gabe for a few hours, and practiced my knowledge by inventing patients in my head with different conditions.

    Mom again promised to tell Bob the next day, when i asked if she told him yet.

    The next day, after finishing my lunch at school, I went alone to the library to borrow a book. At the library''s entrance, I saw Sheldon leaving. He stood still for a second, and then he turned back inside.

    I followed him into the library, and Sheldon was talking to a boy of Asian descent. "Hello, Sheldon," I interrupted.

    "Ah, PJ, hi. This is my new friend, Tam. Tam, this is PJ; he''s my neighbor," Sheldon said, introducing us.

    "Hello, Tam, nice to meet you. It''s good to see Sheldon making another friend," I said, shaking the boy''s hand.

    "PJ Duncan, I know you. There are very few people who don''t know you. You date Regina George, and despite being the quarterback of the school, you''re famous for helping people with their schoolwork," the boy said, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

    "Another friend? Tam it''s my first friend. You''re mistaken," Sheldon said with a furrowed brow.

    "I''m your friend too, Sheldon. I tried to talk to you about that in the library the day before yesterday, but you left before we could talk," I said, smiling at Sheldon.

    "If you''re PJ Duncan''s friend, that makes him my friend by association," Tam said excitedly, pointing at Sheldon. "I''m PJ Duncan''s friend," he repeated softly.

    "I didn''t know we could be considered friends. I thought we were knowledge rivals. Are you telling me that all my search for friendships is futile? You were already my friend?" Sheldon exclaimed exasperatedly.

    "Yes, Sheldon, we''re already friends, and yes, we''re ''knowledge rivals,'' but that doesn''t make us any less friends," I reassured him.

    "Oh, that''s nice. Now I have two friends. Mom will be happy," Sheldon said with a big smile. "Well, see you in class, PJ. Goodbye, Tam," he suddenly bid farewell.

    "So, PJ Duncan, my friend," said Tam.

    "Yes?" I asked, smiling.

    Apparently, he had nothing else to say, and with a blank face, he took the books that Miss Hutchins had just stamped and quickly left.

    "I think you broke him," Miss Hutchins said with a smile. "Well, PJ, what can I do for you?" she asked, returning her attention to me.

    --------------------------------------------------

    Glossary:

    C*: Apparently, in the United States, musical notes are represented by letters A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. In Mexico, we know them as Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, and Si.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Author''s Thoughts:

    I am not American.

    End of this episode, this chapter serves to explain three important things. I had planned to make it shorter to quickly reach the interaction with House and start the first subplot (Boom! spoilers of my own novel within my own novel), but then I thought about using this chapter as a explanation to some things that were in the previous chapters.

    1. The MC wants to be a better person than in his past life, so the guitars he gave to Gabe are going to be Gabe''s. At the moment he gave them to him, it was with the condition that he truly wanted them. Seeing that Gabe is genuinely enjoying the process of learning music, the MC doesn''t regret giving him the guitars.

    2. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the MC was a complete antisocial in his past life. It wasn''t explicitly written, but he had never had a romantic approach with a woman. Being in the body of a teenager, he physically reacts like one, but it bothers him mentally. He doesn''t know how to flirt or be with a woman. If you''re looking for a novel where the MC immediately becomes a heartbreaker, a gigolo, this is not your story. The MC will evolve as he experiences things in his new life, so don''t expect him to remain as dense as he is now. I ask you to bear with his current behavior to see how he develops as a character.

    3. The MC is an ordinary person, smarter than the average, but still just an ordinary person. There''s no system or special abilities. This novel will focus on hard work and effort as main themes. The MC won''t be handed everything on a silver platter.

    Thank you very much for reading. Leave a review please.

    And that''s it, I believe that''s all. As always, if you find an error, please comment so I can fix it immediately.

    P.S.: We are approaching a very important moment in Mexico, the return to classes. I am a university student and will be going back to classes in August. I won''t have as much time to write, but I will still write every day. However, the chapters will be published less frequently. Right now, with these nine chapters, I have this schedule: some days it takes me two days to write, and others only one. You can notice this in the times it takes me to publish.

    There''s still about a week with this schedule, but in the coming weeks, the pace will start to slow down.

    P.S.2: Almost 5500 words.

    :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 10

    During the meal after returning home:

    "How was your day, honey?" Bob asked while serving potatoes to Gabe.

    "Good, there wasn''t much to do during my shift. We didn''t have many patients in the emergency room. There was a boy who went fishing with his father, and the hook got stuck in his lip," she said while trying to show where on the lip. "Also, Mr. Johnson came back for his sponge bath. It''s amazing how quickly his body hair grows," Mom continued.

    "Great, now we have to hear about Dad''s insects and Mr. Johnson''s body hair," Gabe said disgustedly, putting down his utensils on his plate.

    "By the way, Dr. House finally accepted a patient," Mom said, ignoring Gabe''s comment as she served food on her plate.

    "Oh, really, dear?" Bob said. "What''s so special about this patient that the awful Dr. House finally accepted him?" he continued.

    "No one knows for sure. Rumor has it among the nurses that she''s related to someone at the hospital, but I think it''s because of the challenge. Everyone says House is a medical genius, but it seems he only cares about special cases," Mom said.

    "So, he won''t see anyone unless he finds the case interesting," I said, now more annoyed with this Dr. House.

    "What happened to her, Mom?" Teddy asked suddenly intrigued.

    Pausing for a moment, Mom stayed silent.

    "Well, according to the head nurse, a month ago, she had a seizure in front of his entire class. She was a teacher, and during one of her classes, the children said she started speaking strangely, then she wrote on the board to call the nurse and passed out," Mom said, trying to add suspense to her words.

    "That''s awful. Why could that have happened?" Teddy said, scared.

    "Brain tumor," I blurted out without thinking, still angry with Dr. House.

    Everyone at the table fell silent and looked at me.

    "Yes, that''s what they thought, but they ran tests, and there''s no visible tumor. Besides, she''s still young, only 29 years old," Mom said, eyeing me suspiciously. "How do you know it could be cancer, PJ?" she asked, surprised and intrigued.

    "I read it in a book," I quickly lied.

    "A book?" Mom said. "Why would you read a book about that?"

    "He''s been studying to become a doctor. Sometimes, he practice ''suturing'' fruits in our room," Gabe quickly chimed in.

    Bob and Mom seemed surprised.

    "Well, since my head injury, I''ve been thinking about studying more about the brain, and in one of the chapters of this book, it mentions symptoms of a brain tumor that sound like what you described," I lied again.

    "Oh, PJ, you don''t have to study medicine if you''re worried. We can take you to the hospital if you need it," Mom said with concern on her face.

    "Actually, I''m not just studying because of fear. I mean, sure, that''s how it started, but after reading a few books on the subject, I find myself developing an interest in medicine. I''ve been thinking about becoming a doctor," I said resolutely. I had been waiting for the right moment to tell my family, and now seemed like the best time.

    Once again, my words seemed to leave everyone speechless.

    "PJ, a doctor?" Bob finally broke the silence. "I never thought I''d hear that," Mom added.

    "Yeah, I''ve been considering it. I''ve improved a lot in my studies, and I''m studying every day. I might even get a sports scholarship, so I thought, why not become a doctor?" I said, looking at them, waiting for their reactions.

    "That''s true. When PJ explains my assignments, he does it better than the teacher. I find it easier to understand things I hadn''t fully grasped in class. I didn''t know you''d been studying so much," Teddy said.

    "Whatever you want to study, we''ll support you, right, Bob?" Mom said.

    "Yes," Bob replied as he chewed his food.

    After dinner, as was the routine, Gabe and I went outside to play ball.

    "We were playing in the yard, throwing the ball around, and my friends said I''m the best," Gabe said proudly as he threw the ball. "Yeah, you''ve improved a lot these days. If you keep it up, by the time you get to high school, schools will fight for you," I replied, throwing the ball back to him.

    We continued playing for a while until Sheldon came out from the Cooper''s house and approached us. "Good afternoon, PJ, Gabe," he greeted us.

    "Hi, Sheldon. Good afternoon to you too," I replied. "Robot," Gabe added with a slight nod.

    "Do you know why my mother wants me to invite Tam to dinner tomorrow?" Sheldon asked, intrigued, as he stood beside our game.

    "Well, Sheldon, it''s natural for a mother to be concerned about her child, so she probably wants to meet your new friend," I replied while continuing to play with Gabe.

    "No, she probably wants to know if this ''Tam'' is real. It might just be a robot hallucination," Gabe said, mocking.

    "It''s unlikely for a robot to experience hallucinations, and for your information, Tam is my friend, and he is real. I met him in the school library. He''s interested in rocket reading, not just children''s comics," Sheldon said proudly.

    "As I said, robot," Gabe said with a sigh as he threw the ball back.

    Interrupting their argument, I said, "So, Sheldon, are you going to invite Tam to dinner tomorrow?" I asked.

    "Oh, yes, in fact, that''s why I came. My mom asked me to invite you to dinner at our place tomorrow, as Tam and apparently you are my only friends," Sheldon said.

    "Alright, I''ll be there," I said, trying to ignore a snicker that escaped from my brother.

    After nodding, Sheldon stood there for a few more seconds, watching us play. When he noticed his interest, I brought the ball closer to him and asked, "Do you want to throw it?"

    "No, thanks. It''s dirty," Sheldon said, stepping away from the ball. "If there''s nothing else, I''ve completed my task for my mom. See you tomorrow at school, PJ, Gabe," he said, bidding us farewell.

    "Goodbye, robot," Gabe said, "So, the best friend of a nine-year-old who''s undoubtedly smarter than you," Gabe added, teasingly.

    "Yes, he doesn''t have any friends and he''s your age, Gabe. How would you feel if nobody wanted to talk to you?" I asked him seriously as he threw the ball.

    Gabe seemed to be thinking about my question while throwing the ball back to me.

    We continued playing without speaking for several more minutes until Gabe got tired, and we went back inside the house.

    After wiping off the sweat, I joined my family for dinner, where I told my parents about Sheldon''s invitation to dinner at the Cooper''s house tomorrow and headed to my room to study a bit more.

    Gabe was practicing with one of his guitars. "You''re right," he suddenly said, stopping his playing.

    "In what? I mean, I''m always right, but I''d like to know in what case this time," I said, teasingly.

    "About the robot... Sheldon. I''d feel bad if nobody wanted to talk to me," he said, lowering his head slightly.

    "Gabe, it''s not wrong to not like someone, but making fun of someone who''s different from you isn''t right. Sheldon is very smart when it comes to numbers and anything related to studying, but because of his intelligence, he finds it difficult to make friends. You, on the other hand, already have many friends in elementary school, even the chubby kid with the chickens is your friend now. I''m not asking you to be his best friend, but I am asking you not to treat him worse than he deserves," I said, smiling when Gabe nodded. "Now, continue playing that thing you were doing a moment ago. I like it," I added.

    "Really?" he asked excitedly. "Yes, did you write it? It''s good," I asked.

    "No, it''s just a chord progression shown in the book. It''s the first time I''ve practiced it," he said, still excited.

    "Well, whatever it is, it''s nice. Keep going," I said.

    The next day went on as usual. I woke up before my alarm, ran a few miles, had a light breakfast, and Bob dropped me off at school.

    The first two periods were normal, and Sheldon and I competed with each other to answer questions. I tried to answer as many questions as possible while helping more classmates. It seemed like word had spread, and now almost everyone asked me for help when they needed it, and I was happy to provide that help.

    During lunchtime in the cafeteria, Sheldon and Tam approached the table where my friends and I were sitting.

    "Hello, Sheldon, Tam," I greeted them. "Hello, PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said, half-shouting and puffing out his chest.

    "Why are you here, Sheldon?" Georgie asked, annoyed.

    "I don''t think that''s any of your business, but if you really want to know, Tam here wanted to come and say hi to PJ," Sheldon explained calmly, making my friends (except Georgie) laugh.

    "Oh, Cooper genius is quite funny," Brock said, giving Sheldon a thumbs-up. Suddenly, Sheldon wrinkled his nose and covered it, looking disgusted. "Now that Tam has achieved his goal, we''re leaving. See you at my house for dinner, PJ," he said as he turned around to leave quickly.

    Tam stood for a moment beside our table, looking between Sheldon and the empty seat next to Brock. After a few moments, he made up his mind and followed Sheldon to an empty table.

    "I can''t believe you''re friends with him. I thought you and I were friends," Georgie said, annoyed.

    "We are friends, Georgie. I don''t know what you''re talking about. I''m also friends with Sheldon and apparently with Tam," I replied. "Tam?" Georgie asked, intrigued.

    "The guy who was with your brother, idiot," Alan said.

    "What a strange name ''Tam''," said Brock, emphasizing the boy''s name.

    "Anyway, you can be Sheldon''s friend if you want, but he won''t sit with us. If you want, you can sit with him and that Dam, I don''t care," said Georgie grumbling, arms crossed.

    "Calm down, Georgie. He even doesn''t want to sit here; he''s bothered by Brock''s smell," I joked with my good friend.

    "It''s better that way," he said, still annoyed.

    David and Alan started teasing Georgie about his little brother, and occasionally, Brock threw in his own joke, only to resume discussing something else with me.

    At an interesting point in my conversation with Brock about movies that I haven''t seen yet, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around in my seat, I saw Regina again, with her two friends behind her.

    "Hi, PJ from Colorado," Regina said with a smile. "Hello, Regina, Gretchen, Karen. How are you?" I greeted all three friends.

    Karen started chatting with David, Georgie, and Brock, who immediately engaged with her as they arrived.

    Gretchen, on the other hand, approached Alan to chat.

    "Alright, PJ, I was wondering if you''d like to go to the movies tomorrow. They''re showing ''Ghost,''" said Regina while playing with her hair.

    "Sure", ''Ghost''? Is it about ghosts? I had never heard of a movie called ''Ghost''; I know about the ''Ghostbusters,'' but I don''t think it''s that movie.

    "Alright, see you there tomorrow," said Regina happily as she dragged her two friends back to their table.

    "Well, then we''re going to the movies tomorrow," I told my friends.

    "No, no, Superstar, she was inviting you alone; it''s a date," Alan said mockingly.

    "Are you sure? I mean, we''re going to watch a movie about ghosts. I don''t understand how that can be a date," I replied thoughtfully. "Besides, her friends are going too."

    "For someone so smart at school, you sure are clueless with women. She''s definitely asking you out, buddy. Gretchen and Karen won''t be there because they''ll be at Gretchen''s house," Alan said a little exasperated.

    "Yeah, buddy, it''s definitely a date. Regina George, the hottest girl of our generation, is asking you out. I don''t know what she sees in you," Brock said with jealousy. "Sure, you''re tall, you smell good, you''re the quarterback, and you''re smart, but apart from that, I don''t know," he continued.

    "Thanks mate," I said, grateful for the compliments.

    "Forget what I said, PJ. You can stay at this table as long as you want, as long as you keep attracting pretty girls," Georgie said, chewing his food unpleasantly.

    "I agree," said David and Brock simultaneously.

    Ignoring their nonsense, I continued eating until I remembered something Alan had said earlier.

    "By the way, how do you know where Gretchen will be?" I said, now teasing my friend.

    "Reasons," he replied, not giving it much importance.

    Noticing that something might be going on, my other friends started interrogating the usually calm one in our group.

    Exasperated by the situation, Alan thanked me without really saying anything, and I just smiled at him.

    The day continued without many incidents.

    During practice, Mr. Cooper made us run through our plays to see how well-polished they were.

    In the locker room, Mr. Cooper asked for everyone''s attention.

    "As you know, next week is the first game of the season. I want you all to be prepared to give it your all. Stick to what we''ve trained for, get plenty of rest, and as long as you play as you''ve been doing during this season''s practices, we can go far," he said with pride in his voice.

    "Now, go to the showers; some of you smell bad, especially you, Brock. For the love of God, use deodorant," Mr. Cooper said as he entered his office with Coach Wilkins.

    Today, Mr. Cooper drove me home again. As I got out of his car and was about to say goodbye to Georgie, Mr. Cooper stopped me. "PJ, one moment, please," he said, returning to where I was.

    "Yes, Coach?" I asked.

    "Here at home, you don''t need to call me Coach, PJ. I just wanted to thank you for what you''re doing for my two sons. I appreciate it a lot," Mr. Cooper said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

    "You don''t have to thank me; both of them are good friends of mine," I replied.

    "I know Georgie is a good friend of yours; you''ve been helping him with his schoolwork. In fact, all the teachers say that. But I want to thank you especially for Sheldon," he said, glancing suspiciously at his house. "Between you and me, Mary was very worried about Sheldon, and so was I. I''m just glad Sheldon has a friend like you, you know, someone normal," he said, almost whispering.

    "Again, Mr. Cooper, you don''t have to thank me. Sheldon and Georgie are my friends," I said with a smile.

    "You''re a good kid. I''m glad to have you as the quarterback. You''re a good leader too. Well, see you at dinner, son," he said as he went back to his house.

    Leaving my things at home, I went to my room to change. Gabe was sitting at my desk, writing in a notebook, but he got distracted when I entered the room.

    "Hey, PJ, didn''t see you come in. How was practice?" Gabe asked, quickly closing his notebook and moving to his side of the room.

    "It was good, thanks. What do you have there?" I asked, pointing at the notebook he was trying to hide among his comics.

    "Oh, it''s just homework; I finished it already, nothing to worry about," Gabe said hastily.

    Ignoring his strange behavior, I finished getting dressed and headed to the kitchen, where Mom was making herself a fruit bowl.

    "Hi, Mom, sorry for not saying hello when I got home," I greeted her while grabbing a glass of water.

    "Hi, PJ, don''t worry. I see you''ve changed already. Are you going to the Coopers'' now?" Mom asked as she sliced an apple.

    "Yes, in a few moments," I replied, looking at her strangely as she added hot sauce and peanut butter to her fruit.

    "Have you told Dad about the pregnancy yet?" I asked.

    "No, why do you ask? Do you think he suspects something?" she said, concerned, while eating her strange mix of foods.

    "I don''t know, but if he doesn''t suspect anything, he might start to," I said, pointing at her plate.

    Surprised, Mom looked at her food.

    "No, your dad doesn''t know yet," she said sadly.

    "Mom," I said, patting her back. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be to tell him," I continued.

    "Yeah, I know, PJ. I just can''t do it yet," she said as she took her plate and left the kitchen.

    On my way to the Coopers'',

    I saw Tam walking in the family''s garden.

    "Hey, Tam, how''s it going?" I said as I approached.

    "Oh, PJ Duncan, good evening," said Tam, offering his hand for a handshake. "You know, you can just call me PJ; you don''t have to use my last name every time. We''re friends, so drop the formality," I replied as I bumped fists with his hand.

    Seeing his hand, Tam stood still for a moment. I decided to leave him with his thoughts and went to the Coopers'' front knock the door, with the boy joining me.

    From inside the house, we heard Mrs. Cooper shout, "They''re here, everybody stay calm! Just a normal day," even though she was the only one screaming. "Can I eat in front of the TV?" I heard Missy ask her mother. "No, you can eat in front of Sheldon''s friends," her mother scolded. "Aw, fudge," Missy responded. "I know what ''fudge'' means, and you''re right on the edge, young lady," Mrs. Cooper scolded again.

    I noticed that Tam jumped with each interaction of the Cooper women, so I put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Calm down, they''re just a regular family, well, an American family," which didn''t seem to calm him.

    Immediately after, the door to the Cooper''s house opened, with Mrs. Cooper elegantly dressed, and Missy standing behind her with her arms crossed.

    "Welcome," Mrs. Cooper said with a smile at Tam. "Oh, hi, PJ, I didn''t know you were coming too. This dinner won''t be so boring after all," said Missy as she uncrossed her arms and let me in.

    "Hi, Missy, good evening, Mrs. Cooper, you look radiant today," I said as I entered the house.

    "Oh, good evening, PJ. A true gentleman as always," said Mrs. Cooper.

    "And do I look pretty, PJ?" Missy asked while twirling her pink dress.

    "Like a princess, Missy," I said, smiling at the little girl.

    With a smile, Tam followed behind me and greeted everyone as Mrs. Cooper led us to the kitchen.

    "This is Tam, Sheldon''s friend," she said, introducing the new boy. "I''ll be right back; I''m going to get the dinner," she continued, giving a big smile to her youngest son and his new friend as she left the dining room.

    At the Cooper''s dining table, Mr. Cooper and Georgie were already seated, along with Sheldon.

    "And I am PJ Duncan, but I think everyone already knows that," I joked as I took a seat next to Georgie, who greeted me with a light punch on the shoulder, which I returned.

    "Good evening, Mr. Cooper," I greeted after taking a seat. "PJ," Mr. Cooper replied in kind.

    "Duh, of course, we know. We''ve been neighbors for almost two weeks," Missy said as she took a seat next to me.

    Laughing at Missy''s comment, I noticed the sudden silence at the table.

    Everyone had awkward smiles, looking at each other, except for Sheldon, who remained undisturbed, staring fixedly at the empty plate in front of him.

    Until Mr. Cooper decided to break the silence, "So, uh..." he said, trying to remember something, "Tam," he blurted out, recalling the boy''s name. "What kind of name is that?" he asked shamelessly.

    "Vietnamese, sir," Tam replied with a friendly smile. "Sure. You know, I spent a little time over there. Army," Mr. Cooper said with pride.

    No one said anything again, so I decided to break the silence. "Well, thanks for your service, sir," I said, smiling at Mr. Cooper, who winked at me in good spirits.

    Suddenly, remembering something, "Your mom''s name isn''t Kim-Lee, is it?" Mr. Cooper asked with seriousness.

    "No, sir," Tam replied.

    "Good! Good. I mean, you know it''s a small country, so..." Mr. Cooper said with an awkward smile. "Mary, how''s that food coming?" he continued, trying to forget the uncomfortable moment.

    "Almost," Mrs. Cooper replied from the kitchen.

    Georgie seemed to be thinking, "So, Vietnam, like in Rambo?" he asked Tam. "Yes," Tam replied, laughing a little, "that''s a cool movie," Georgie affirmed excitedly. "Yes," Tam repeated, "are you in it?" Georgie asked, now very excited. "No," Tam replied dryly, disappointing Georgie.

    "Why would you think you know his mom?" Sheldon asked suddenly, making me unintentionally burst out laughing, which I tried to stifle by taking a sip of water, only to choke a little.

    Mr. Cooper just looked at me with annoyance on his face, but he couldn''t say anything as Mrs. Cooper suddenly appeared with a large plate of meat. "Alright, Tam, I decided I was going to make you a real Texas dinner. Barbecued chicken and brisket," she said.

    "Thank you," Tam replied with a big smile.

    "Well, I figured you were probably tired of stuff wiggling around on your plate," Mrs. Cooper said shamelessly as she sat at the table.

    Once again, a quick laugh escaped me, "what?" Mrs. Cooper asked, and I lied, "oh, nothing, just remembered something Mr. Cooper said," with horror on his face, Mr. Cooper quickly interrupted me, saying, "okay, Mary, why don''t you say grace? Tam must be hungry," saying it half with a smile for his wife and half with annoyance for me.

    "Okay, let''s say grace," Mrs. Cooper said, taking Missy and her husband''s hands. "Now, Tam, when I say ''Jesus,'' feel free to say the word ''Buddha'' in your head," Mrs. Cooper confidently said, assuming Tam was Buddhist. "I''m actually Catholic," Tam said with a smile. "Oh! Well, that''s too bad," Mrs. Cooper said as she closed her eyes to give grace.

    The Coopers closed their eyes as Mrs. Cooper said her grace, "Thank you, God, for this food." While the Coopers had their eyes closed, Tam exchanged glances with me, shrugging and giving him a little encouragement.

    "And thank you so much for Sheldon''s new friend," she continued, "Amen," everyone at the Cooper''s table separated their hands and started serving themselves.

    "Everything looks great, Mrs. Cooper," I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Oh, thank you so much, PJ," she replied as she took another bite.

    After a few minutes of only hearing the sound of forks and knives against plates, Mrs. Cooper said, "So, Tam, tell us about your family. What brings y''all to Texas?"

    "Well, after the American war-" he was interrupted again, this time by Mr. Cooper, "you mean the Vietnam War," "we call it the American war," Tam quickly replied, explaining to Mr. Cooper.

    "Anyway, after the war, my father was sent to a reeducation camp because he fought on the wrong side," said Tam cryptically.

    "You mean our side," Mr. Cooper joked.

    "I was trying to be nice," Tam said sharply.

    "So, for many years, my mother, my sisters, and I were very poor and very often didn''t have much to eat," Tam continued, making everyone at the table feel guilty for some reason.

    "Then, when he was released," he was interrupted again, this time by Georgie, "What''d they teach him at the reeducation camp?" he asked intrigued, "how to be a communist," Tam replied.

    "Cool, like Rambo," Georgie said excitedly.

    Ignoring Georgie''s affirmation, Tam continued, "When he was released, we escaped on a small boat and spent many weeks at sea dodging Cambodian pirates until we reached Thailand."

    Seeing an opportunity to lighten the situation, Mrs. Cooper quickly said, "Oh, that''s supposed to be a beautiful country."

    "Lovely beaches," Mr. Cooper affirmed.

    "I wouldn''t know," Tam cut him off, "We were forced to live in a refugee camp, where the only thing we had to eat were pigeons and rats."

    "Ha!" Georgie said, "That''s a job for hot sauce," confirming.

    Apparently intrigued by what Georgie said, Tam looked at him curiously, while calmly continuing to eat from his plate.

    Ignoring Georgie''s comment once again, Tam continued, "Finally, we were allowed to come to the United States and start over in Galveston," he said, "my father saved money and bought his own shrimp boat."

    With a big smile, Mrs. Cooper said, "there''s a happy ending, when the going gets tough, America provides."

    Thinking the story was over, everyone continued with their dinner.

    "It did," said Tam, cutting the recent good spirits short, "until the Ku Klux Klan burned our boat and chased us away."

    "You gonna put a good spin on that one?" Mr. Cooper asked his wife.

    "So we came to Medford and opened up a convenience store," Tam continued, "my parents work 16 hours a day, seven days a week for very little money," Tam finished with his head down.

    "Well, that was depressing," Sheldon said as he continued with his dinner.

    "Yeah, definitely depressing," I confirmed, "the American dream works for some, I suppose."

    The next day, after my morning routine, I saw Sheldon and Tam in the Cooper''s garage. "Hey, Sheldon, Tam, good morning. What are you guys doing here?" I said as I approached the two, who had a miniature rocket in their hands.

    "Good morning to you too. We''re investigating why this rocket didn''t launch," I heard Sheldon say while working with the rocket''s wires.

    "Probably the fuel," I said as I approached their work table.

    Surprised, Sheldon turned on his stool and said, "Do you know anything about rockets?"

    "Absolutely nothing," I replied with a smile.

    "You smell like sweat," Sheldon said as he continued working with the rocket''s cables.

    "Yes, sorry, I just got back from exercising. I usually do it earlier, but since it''s Saturday, I gave myself a bit more time to sleep," I replied.

    "It''s good that you exercise your body, but until you''re clean, please¡ª" Sheldon was interrupted as the rocket suddenly launched.

    Broken glass and the sound of a car alarm were enough for Sheldon to shout, "Sorry!"

    "I don''t know what happened; I was trying to calibrate the ignition wires, and suddenly it went off," Sheldon said nervously about what had just happened.

    "Sheldon Cooper," Mr. Cooper said angrily, accompanied by his wife, as they entered the garage, "these people want to talk to you," he continued, stepping aside for two people dressed in FBI uniforms.

    "Hello, kids, I''m Agent Gabe Gallo, and this is my partner Aaron Hotchner," said the older of the two, "which one of you is Sheldon Lee Cooper?" he asked seriously.

    "Me," Sheldon said as he slowly raised his hand.

    "If you could come with us, we have some questions for you," said Agent Gabe, guiding Sheldon inside the house.

    "Kids, you can go; we''ll just talk a little with your friend Sheldon," the agent said again as he bid farewell with a slight nod.

    "Goodbye, PJ, Pam," Mr. Cooper said as he hurriedly followed his wife, who had gone inside with the agents.

    Tam and I were left alone in the garage, looking incredulously at what had just happened. "My name is Tam," the boy corrected, although Mr. Cooper was no longer there to hear it.

    "Well, Tam, I think it''s time we leave here," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

    "Okay," Tam said, still surprised by what had just happened.

    Tam seemed to be contemplating whether or not to say something, and as we left the Cooper''s garage, he gathered the courage and turned to me, "PJ, would you like to do something today?"

    "Oh, I''m sorry, Tam. I''m actually going out with Regina; we''re going to the movies," I said apologetically.

    "With Regina George?" Tam asked, surprised. "She''s the hottest girl of our generation. Your reputation precedes you, PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said with a smile as he walked away down the sidewalk.

    "Okay... goodbye, Tam," I said, puzzled by the boy''s behavior, but he was already too far away to hear me.

    When I got back home, I took a shower to clean the dirt and sweat from my morning exercise.

    It was still early, so I spent some time reading in the living room. As the time to go out with Regina approached, I approached Bob, who was also in the living room on his armchair.

    "Dad, can you take me to the cinema? I''m going with Regina," I asked.

    Bob, who was reading his insect magazine, froze for a moment and then asked in surprise, "Do you have a date?"

    "I think it''s just a social outing, you know, to get to know each other, but my friends think Regina invited me on a date," I replied.

    "Wait, she invited you?" Bob said, increasingly surprised as he stood up.

    "Well, yes," I said, feeling a little embarrassed by his reaction.

    With a snort and puffing his chest with pride, Bob said, "It''s the genes, the Duncans always triumphing. Let''s go quickly. You''re lucky your mom is on duty right now, and I have time to take you," he said as he left the house with the car keys in hand.

    On the way to the cinema in the horrible yellow truck, Bob said, "You''re almost old enough to drive, PJ."

    "Yeah, a few more months, and I''ll be 16," I replied with a slight nod.

    "You need to start practicing and studying for the test. Next weekend, I''ll take you to practice," Bob affirmed as he continued driving.

    I already knew how to drive, even though in my past life, I didn''t have my own car. To be a paramedic, you need a driver''s license. I still remember the questions they asked in the exam; I hope they haven''t changed completely.

    "We''re here, PJ. I don''t know what kind of outing this is, but I want you to remember that you always have to respect a lady. I won your mother''s heart by being a true gentleman, and that''s what I want you to be a gentleman," he said seriously as he stopped me from getting out of the car. "Take this," he said, handing me a twenty-dollar bill. "You pay for everything, ah! and I''ll pick you up in about two hours. Have fun," he continued, patting me on the back as I exited the car.

    I stood outside the cinema in the ticket line, watching Bob drive away in his horrible truck.

    Some time passed while I waited. Then, on the main street, an incredibly luxurious car stopped in front of the cinema. The back door opened, and Regina, looking incredibly well-groomed, stepped out of the car. She immediately spotted me, waved with a big gesture, and a wide smile, and approached me.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    With a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Regina said, "PJ, hi, you look... good," while she looked me up and down. I hadn''t specifically prepared myself for the outing; I was just wearing my regular clothes.

    "That''s not true; I feel underdressed. Just look at you; you look incredible," I said, smiling at her.

    "Thank you," Regina said, playing with her hair.

    We continued talking, mainly Regina, as the line started moving. When we reached the ticket counter, I said with a smile to the young worker selling the tickets, "Two tickets for Ghost," paying for them, and we entered the cinema.

    "Do you want something from the snack stand? Popcorn, for example," I asked while guiding her towards the stand.

    "No, thanks. Popcorn has too many calories, but water would be perfect," she said, taking my arm and leading me to the stand.

    With our purchases in hand, we headed to the theater, where I noticed that only couples were cuddled up in the seats. It probably wasn''t a ghost movie as I had thought.

    Regina continued talking about middle school until the movie started.

    In the end, the movie wasn''t what I had expected. Twenty minutes into the movie, there was a clay modeling scene that was far too erotic for what it was supposed to be. Regina, who had been quiet the whole time, started caressing my arm, which caused an immediate reaction in my body. The scene in the movie, along with the cool touch of Regina''s delicate hand, made my mouth dry. I quickly cleared my throat and shifted in my seat, trying to hide the issue that was arising in my pants. Damn teenage hormones.

    In an attempt to distract myself from the movie and Regina''s touch, I started imagining various ailments in imaginary people in my head. I recalled the patient my mom talked about; if it wasn''t cancer, the altered mental state and inability to speak could be symptoms of a brain injury, an aneurysm*, stroke*, or some other ischemic syndrome*. It could also be Wernicke''s encephalopathy*, but without knowing the blood thiamine levels, I couldn''t say for sure.

    What they need is a contrast MRI.

    I kept thinking about different fictional patients, and before I knew it, time had passed.

    "PJ," Regina suddenly woke me from my thoughts, speaking with force in my ear. I turned to her with intrigue; she seemed upset.

    "Yes, I suppose you where somewhere else. The movie has ended," She said.

    "Well that was a good movie" I said lying as I stood up and stretched a bit. I really didn''t know what had happened in the middle of the movie.

    "Yeah," Regina said without getting up, still with a forced smile and a curt tone.

    "Are you okay? Is there something bothering you?" I asked, worried that I had messed up, that I hadn''t been a gentleman as Bob had advised.

    "No, nothing," she said as she stood up and gathered her things to leave the theater. I followed her outside, feeling much calmer now, she said she was ok.

    Outside the cinema, I saw her luxury car waiting on the main street. I walked with her to the car and opened the door, trying to be a better gentleman than before.

    Before getting in, Regina paused and asked, "PJ, are you... gay?" looking carefully around.

    Surprised by the question, I remained silent for a moment, then quickly replied, "No, no, what makes you say that?"

    "Well, I tried several times during the movie to get your attention, but nothing worked," she said, not looking me in the eye. "I took the initiative and asked you out first, but it didn''t work," she continued, disappointment evident in her voice. "Regina-" I began, trying to get her to stop. "I like you, PJ, but I don''t think you feel the same way," she interrupted, shutting the car door in my face before I could finish what I was about to say. A few moments later, the car accelerated away.

    Surprised by her confession, I stood frozen in place until a honk from Bob woke me from my trance. He had arrived in the horrible truck and opened the door with a big smile.

    "There''s Romeo! How did it go, son?" he asked as I got in the car.

    "I think I messed up," I said after a moment.

    Bob lost his smile and started driving down the street. "Were you disrespectful? Did you try anything inappropriate?" he asked seriously as he drove.

    "What? No, not at all. On the contrary, I was very distracted during the movie and didn''t give her the attention she deserved. I think she hates me now," I said, feeling embarrassed.

    Letting out a sigh of relief, Bob said, "That''s good. I raised you well not to be a bad guy." Then he started laughing. "My son, a real heartbreaker. Don''t worry; she doesn''t hate you. Your mom got angry with me like that several times. What you need to do is give her a gift, maybe take her out to dinner and give her a bouquet of flowers. That should make her forgive you," Bob said as he gave my shoulder a small pat. "Well, at least it worked for your old man," he continued, driving home.

    When we arrived at the house, it was already night, not too late but dark outside. In the Cooper''s yard, I could see Georgie throwing firecrackers on the roof of his house. When I got out of the car, I told Bob that I would go to the Cooper''s to talk to Georgie, and he gave me permission. I approached my friend.

    "Hey, what''s up?" I said, giving him a little tap on the shoulder followed by a high-five. "Nothing much, Meemaw is watching over us," Georgie replied, offering me some of his firecrackers.

    In medical school, they showed us the risks of playing with these types of firecrackers, like missing fingers in the pictures or sometimes just burned stumps. I definitely wouldn''t play with fireworks. "No, thanks. Who''s Meemaw?" I asked after declining the firecrackers. "Oh, it''s my grandma, my mom''s mom. My parents went out to dinner after dealing with the feds because of my idiot brother," Georgie said as he threw another firecracker on the roof.

    "Speaking of wich, what happened with those FBI agents? Why were they looking for Sheldon?" I asked.

    "I don''t know. They wouldn''t let me listen. Sheldon is playing inside with Meemaw. You can ask him yourself," Georgie said as he threw another firecracker.

    Entering through the backyard gate, I found Sheldon and an elderly woman playing cards and coins at the table. "Good evening," I said, surprising the woman, who had her back to me.

    "Oh, hi, PJ. We''re playing Draw Poker," Sheldon said cheerfully as he showed me his cards.

    "Oh, Moonpie, you''re losing at Draw Poker. Who are you? Surely not one of my grandsons," the woman interrogated me after speaking with Sheldon.

    "Nice to meet you, ma''am. I''m PJ Duncan, Georgie and Sheldon''s friend, also their neighbor, and we go to school together," I introduced myself to the woman.

    "Oh, the brother of the boy with the guitar. Forget about that ma''am stuff; it makes me feel old¡ª" the woman said, but Sheldon interrupted, "but you are old." "It''s a good thing I love you," she said, offended by the boy''s comment.

    "Then I''ll call you Meemaw too, if you don''t mind," I said to the woman as I approached the table. "By the way, is Gabe here?" I asked.

    "Oh, no, no. You call her Constance. I call her Meemaw. You have your own Meemaw," Sheldon quickly interjected.

    "Well, that''s not nice to say to your friend, Moonpie. He can call me Meemaw if he wants. A friend of yours is like a grandson to me too," Meemaw said with a big smile. "Now why don''t you sit and play, PJ. Oh, your brother is with Missy; they''re having a little concert," Meemaw said with a smile as she pointed to the chair next to her.

    "I see. I actually came to ask Sheldon about the FBI agents who were looking for him today," I said as I sat in the offered chair.

    "Oh, yes. Agent Gallo and Agent Hotchner. They were just concerned because I called some mines in Canada a while ago to ask for uranium. Remember, I had problems getting my scale rocket to take off? I thought that with uranium, I could solve those problems," Sheldon said calmly as Meemaw dealt the cards.

    "And you won''t do it again, right? Now, PJ, do you know how to play Draw Poker?" Meemaw asked when she finished dealing.

    "Not exactly, but I see we each have five cards. I suppose the best hand wins," I replied.

    "Correct," Meemaw said with a smug smile. "I see you know what you''re talking about. Why don''t you put your money where your mouth is, kid," Meemaw said, tilting her head challengingly. "I''d play with Georgie, but that boy can''t remember the rules," she continued, looking at her cards with a poker face.

    With a big smile, Sheldon said, "I bet a nickel," sliding his coin across the table.

    Using a nearby mirror, Meemaw said, "Hang on a minute, Moonpie," placing the mirror in front of Sheldon''s face. "Look at your cards, and then look in the mirror." "Hey, I''m smiling," Sheldon said happily.

    "Yeah, and what does that tell me about your cards?" Meemaw asked with a hint of mockery in her tone.

    "That I like them," Sheldon deduced with intrigue.

    "Attaboy. Now, look at my face. Tell me what you see," Meemaw prompted as she looked at her cards.

    "You''re unhappy," Sheldon deduced. "Which means...?" Meemaw prodded.

    "You don''t have good cards," Sheldon concluded with pride.

    "Right, so I''m going to see your nickel and raise you a quarter," Meemaw said as she dragged the coins to the center of the table.

    Before Sheldon could say anything, I quickly interrupted, "Well, I''ll call the nickel and the quarter and bet everything you have there, Meemaw," I said as I counted the coins on the table and pulled out my bill, which amounted to thirteen dollars and some change.

    Meemaw looked surprised, as if she had forgotten I was there.

    Sheldon looked at his only coin on the table. "All in?" he asked, a little worried. "You can fold," I said with a bit of swagger.

    "No, I have good cards; Meemaw has bad cards, but I don''t know if you have good cards. Okay, all in," Sheldon said as he pushed his last coin across the table.

    Meemaw raised an eyebrow and engaged in a staring contest. I tried not to change my expression at all. After a few seconds, she made up her mind. "Okay, all in," she said, dragging all her coins to the center of the table.

    "Nines and fives," Sheldon said proudly as he put his cards on the table.

    "Mmh, that''s too bad," Meemaw said, putting on a fake look of annoyance. "Three queens. You lose!" she said after a moment, with a big smile of excitement as she revealed her cards.

    Meemaw began to drag the coins back to her side of the table until I stopped her.

    "Well, Meemaw, three queens is a great hand,"

    I said as I put my hand on the table. "But unfortunately, it doesn''t beat... four aces!" Shocked by my hand, Meemaw didn''t stop me as I pulled the coins and my bill to my side of the table.

    "What? But you didn''t look happy," Sheldon said, unable to believe it.

    "I made you think I was unhappy," said Meemaw with a drooping expression. "But that''s lying. You lied to your Moon pie," said Sheldon, disappointed.

    "I bluffed my Moon pie, although it didn''t serve any purpose. We have to take you to a casino, kid. You have good luck," Meemaw said, pointing at me with one hand while collecting the cards with the other.

    "Do people know about this?" Sheldon asked as he took his grandmother''s mirror.

    "Sheldon," Meemaw said calmly, "what''s on a person''s face is not always what''s in their heart." "Well, this changes everything," Sheldon said incredulously. "How do you know who to trust?"

    "You don''t; that''s what makes life interesting," Meemaw said with a sad smile. "Yes, you never know, but the best you can do is hope for the best in people and prepare for the worst," I said while counting my money.

    "Yes, that''s true," Meemaw said with a smile.

    "Mom, we''re home!" Mrs. Cooper suddenly shouted.

    "In here!" Meemaw replied from the table.

    Mrs. Cooper entered the kitchen, followed by Mr. Cooper, who leaned against the door frame. Mrs. Cooper was surprised to see Sheldon and asked, "What''s he doing up?" pointing at Sheldon. "Good evening, PJ," she greeted me when she noticed my presence.

    "Good evening, Mrs. Cooper, Mr. Cooper," I greeted them both.

    "Well, he was losing to me until Mr. Aces here arrived," Meemaw said, pointing at me.

    Mrs. Cooper looked surprised and seemed about to say something, but suddenly one of Georgie''s firecrackers exploded, surprising everyone and annoying Mr. Cooper.

    "What the hell is that?" he asked, heading to the backyard door.

    "I sent Georgie on a beer run, and tipped him with firecrackers," Mrs. Cooper explained while shuffling her deck of cards.

    "Oh, Mom," Mrs. Cooper said with disappointment.

    "Was I supposed to stiff him?" Meemaw asked defiantly.

    From the Cooper''s dining room, Missy followed by Gabe came running into the kitchen. "I ate so much candy!" Missy exclaimed, holding a notebook in her hand.

    "Not me, but she has my notebook," Gabe said, chasing after Missy.

    "Let''s go, Gabe. Get your things; it''s getting late," I called out to my brother as I left the kitchen behind Missy.

    "Okay, PJ, coming!" Gabe shouted back from a distance.

    Mrs. Cooper gave Meemaw a grateful but forced smile, staring at her intently.

    "Okay," Meemaw said, standing up. "They are all yours," she continued as she left the kitchen.

    "I''m leaving too. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, Sheldon," I said as I said goodbye and followed Meemaw out.

    "Gabe, let''s go!" I yelled from the Cooper''s front door, and he responded with a shout that he was coming.

    "I wasn''t lying, kid. We really have to take you to a casino. How old are you?" Meemaw asked as she waited for Gabe outside.

    "I''m turning sixteen, Meemaw. I''m not old enough to enter casinos yet," I replied.

    "Oh, that''s too bad. I was going to Las Vegas in a few weeks to bet on Tyson''s fight. Hopefully, the odds won''t be too skewed in his favor, even though he''s the obvious winner. A friend of mine said the odds might be 30 to 1. Can you believe that?" Meemaw said as she was leaving.

    Something didn''t add up. We were in mid-August, and if I remembered correctly, the only Tyson fight in 1990 in my previous life had taken place in February. That fight was crucial for the time, and Tyson was undefeated until he was beaten by another fighter, i remember my roomate talking about this.

    "Wait, Meemaw, who is Tyson fighting against?" I asked quickly as I stopped her.

    "Don''t you know? He''s fighting against Douglas. It''s the biggest boxing event of the year. Even when Rocky came out, boxing wasn''t as important," Meemaw said with intrigue.

    This was my chance. If things were the same as in my world, Tyson would lose, and any bet placed on Douglas would multiply by at least thirty.

    "When is this fight?" I asked her, "It''s in a few weeks. Why? Do you want to place a bet?" Meemaw asked, showing interest in my sudden curiosity.

    "Yes, I''d like to bet. Could you do it for me?" I asked.

    "Sure, I''m going to Vegas anyway, but what''s in it for me?" she asked, a bit greedy.

    "Well, how about I give you 10% of whatever I win, if I win anything?" I suggested.

    "That''s not much, Mr. Aces and much less if you bet on the clear winner. I want something else," Meemaw said as if it were obvious.

    "Oh, but I won''t be betting on Tyson. I want to bet on Douglas. And if I win, that 10% will be much more than what I originally bet," I said, correcting her.

    "What?" she asked incredulously at my statement.

    "Yes, I want to bet on Douglas. I''m not sure if he can win, but I like those odds. If I bet ten dollars, I could win 300. Sounds good to me," I said confidently.

    "Well, kid, I won''t tell you what to do with your money. It''s up to you," she said as she took out a notebook and pen from her purse. "Tell me, how much do you want to bet?" she asked, moistening the pen''s tip with her tongue.

    "Oh, I don''t have all the money I want to bet yet. Let''s discuss it a few days before you leave for Vegas. I want to save up more money," I said as I turned my head towards the Cooper''s house, where Gabe was leaving through the front door with his guitar in a case on his back.

    "Wait, you want to bet all your money?" Mrs. Cooper said, impressed. "That''s not a very smart move, Mr. Aces," she continued, shaking her head.

    "Oh, don''t worry, Meemaw. I''m only fifteen. How much money could I possibly get?" I said with a smile as I headed toward Gabe, saying my goodbyes to Meemaw.

    "Why were you talking to, Missy''s grandmother?" Gabe asked as we walked home.

    "Oh, nothing, just about the card game she taught me," I replied as I gave him a half-hug.

    "Okay..." he said, thinking for a moment. "Do you think you could teach me the game sometime?" he continued after a pause.

    Chuckling a bit at his request, I opened the front door of our house. "Sure, I''ll teach you later. What do you have there?" I said, changing the subject, asking about the notebook he was holding.

    Embarrassed, he quickly hid the notebook and said, "Nothing," as he rushed inside the house towards our room.

    In the main living room, Bob and Mom were watching TV. "Hi, PJ, what''s going on with your brother?" Mom asked from the couch.

    "I don''t know, Mom," I said as I greeted her.

    As I continued my way to my room, Mom suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, that''s right. Your dad told me you had a date. How did it go?" she said as she ran up next to me.

    "Not very well, I think he''s mad at me, but Dad gave me some advice," I said. "Well, if you want my..." she was about to say, but I interrupted her. "Speaking of Dad, have you told him yet?" I asked quickly changing the subject.

    Surprised, Mom quickly turned her head to where Bob was watching TV to see if he had overheard. Seeing that he hadn''t, she relaxed a bit and turned her face back to me.

    "No, not yet," she said with a complicated expression.

    "Mom, you can''t keep putting it off like this. I know, how about tomorrow I''ll prepare a special dinner for you both, and during the meal, you can tell him. Dad said it''s the best way to ask for forgiveness, but this time you won''t be asking for forgiveness; instead, you''ll be giving him some great news," I said, smiling because my strategy had worked. Mom forgot what we were talking about before.

    "That''s a great idea, PJ," Mom said happily, "but do you think you can handle making dinner? Maybe we can go shopping tomorrow to get the ingredients," she said.

    "Yes, let''s do that. You and I will go shopping, and then you can take Dad out of the house for a few hours. Teddy, Gabe, and I will prepare everything, and I''ll serve as the waiter. What do you think?" I said calmly.

    "Perfect," Mom said with a big smile and teary eyes.

    "Okay," I said as I continued my way, but Mom stopped me again with a tight hug. "Thank you so much for all your help, PJ. You''re a great son; I don''t know what I did to deserve you," Mom said, then released me. "Go to bed now," she said, wiping her tears as she walked back to the living room.

    Standing there for a moment, I chuckled at the happiness. "No, I don''t know what I did to deserve you all," I said in a whisper before going back to my room.

    I slowly opened the door to my room since Gabe was playing his guitar.

    [Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles]

    "Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Here comes the sun, and I say it''s all right," Gabe sang as he played his guitar, facing away from the door.

    "Little darling, it''s been a long, cold, lonely winter," he continued but paused at that part to write it down.

    "Lonely winter," he murmured, concentrating as he wrote.

    "That''s good; you wrote it," I said.

    Startled, Gabe jumped in his place, dropping the notebook and pen he was using.

    "Yeah, no, maybe, do you like it?" he asked a bit nervously.

    "Yes, I like it. Who are you writing it for?" I said as I approached the notebook and took a quick look.

    There were many lyrics; some pages were just a bunch of words written with some words circled in red. Other pages had titled songs, and many were crossed out, except for the last used page.

    "''Here Comes the Sun,'' good title, and I like the chords," I said as I handed him the notebook without letting go. "Don''t be ashamed to do what you like doing, especially with me; I support you, little brother," I said, winking at him and then releasing the notebook.

    "Keep going; I want to hear what you have," I said as I headed to my closet.

    Gabe continued to sing and play some of his songs. Most of them were quite good; he had a talent for writing. He stumbled a bit with hand positions on the guitar, but he always managed to adjust and make the songs sound good.

    "How do you do it?" I asked. "Do what?" he replied as he wrote something else in the notebook. "Write music," I clarified.

    Putting the notebook aside along with the guitar, he sat up straight and said, "I don''t really know. I learn the chords, and the lyrics of the songs just come to me as I play. When I perform the song, I might make some changes if I come up with something."

    I didn''t think writing songs could be that easy, but Gabe definitely had talent for it.

    "How about if we tell Dad later to enroll you in more music classes so you can learn faster and not just on your own?" I asked from my bed, already prepared to sleep.

    "I don''t know, do you think it''s really worth it?" he asked somewhat worried.

    "I''ll tell you what, you can try a few classes. If you don''t like them, you can quit and continue on your own," I encouraged him.

    "Alright, but I don''t think Dad will want to pay for the classes," he said as he tidied up his things and prepared to sleep.

    "I could get a part-time job. I''ll help you pay for them, don''t worry about it. Just pay me back with a fancy car once you''re famous and really rich. For now, just enjoy what you love," I joked as I turned off the table lamp.

    "Goodnight, Gabe," I said as I turned around to sleep.

    "Goodnight, PJ. Thanks," Gabe replied weakly.

    I slept very well.

    The next day, I woke up a bit later than usual but still early. I got ready for my daily exercises and left the house.

    Outside the Cooper''s house, the Cooper kids were there along with Mrs. Cooper and Meemaw, it looked like they were going to church.

    "Good morning," I greeted as I jogged past them.

    "Good morning, PJ," Mrs. Cooper responded happily, along with Missy and Sheldon.

    "Mr. Aces," Meemaw said, nodding at me.

    Returning from my daily exercises, I entered the kitchen where, as always, Mom was waiting with a glass of water. "Good morning, PJ," she said. "Get ready to go shopping," she added, looking behind me cautiously and winking.

    "Yes, Mom. I''ll just take a quick shower and get dressed to go," I said as I left the kitchen with a banana in hand.

    I got ready for shopping by taking a quick shower and dressing up for the outing. Mom and I went shopping and returned after a few hours. We quickly put away the groceries in the kitchen and went to the living room, where Bob and the kids were watching television.

    I decided to sit with Teddy, Gabe, and Bob in the living room, so Mom thought it would be a good time to leave.

    "Well, kids, your dad and I are going to check out some curtains. We won''t be back for a few hours. If you''re going to do something special, do it now," she said, giving me a wink and dragging Bob out of the house.

    Surprised by the sudden plans, Bob exclaimed, "Check out curtains? But we already have good curtains!"

    Taking the remote from the coffee table, I turned off the TV, ignoring the kids'' protests, and said, "Alright, chipmunks, we''re going to prepare a special dinner for our parents because they deserve it. Teddy, you''ll set the table and prepare the house. Mom and I bought a few candles; put them around the living room and dining area. Gabe, you''ll help me in the kitchen," I said authoritatively, not expecting any objections. I picked up Gabe around his waist and carried him like a sack under my arm.

    "Let''s go," I said as we walked into the kitchen. "Don''t make me carry you too, Teddy!" I shouted from the kitchen door.

    Putting Gabe back on the floor inside the kitchen, we got to work. It wouldn''t be a fancy dinner because none of us really knew how to cook. I had some ideas about certain dishes, but everything would be trial and error.

    With Gabe''s help in cutting and taste-testing the dishes I prepared, we finished the dinner a few hours later. The house was elegantly decorated; Teddy had placed candles in strategic spots that I lit up along with a well-chosen tablecloth. It felt like a completely different home.

    After taking a bath, I dressed up and prepared for my parents'' dinner. I served the kids a portion of the food I made so they could eat before dinner and not bother Bob and Mom.

    I explained to the kids what we were going to do, from the moment our parents arrived until the final moment when Mom would tell Dad something ¨C I didn''t reveal what it was, of course.

    We sat on the couch, waiting for our parents to arrive. Several minutes later, we heard the car parking outside. I positioned myself behind the door with the lights off, along with my siblings, and we waited for them to enter.

    "Kids, we''re home!" Bob shouted as he entered the house. We turned on the lights, and my siblings and I jumped out from behind the door, yelling, "Surprise!" as we showed them the decorated house.

    "What''s all this?" Bob asked, happily surprised. "Well, we thought, why not do something special for you two, so we prepared a dinner," I said, hugging my two siblings on each side and smiling at our parents who had just entered.

    "Wow, this is amazing! Thank you, kids, I had no idea," Mom said, clearly feigning surprise, winking at me.

    "Yes, that''s why it''s a surprise," Gabe pointed out.

    "Come on in, don''t just stand there at the door," I said, ushering them in.

    "Allow me to take your coats," Gabe said, even though they didn''t have coats to give him.

    "Right this way, please," Teddy said, leading them to the table. "Table for two," she said as she pulled out Bob''s chair, and Gabe did the same for Mom.

    "Thank you very much, waiter," Mom said, giving Gabe a kiss on the forehead before taking her seat.

    "You''re welcome," Gabe replied, wiping off the kiss from his forehead and going to the kitchen.

    "Excuse me," Teddy said as he went with Gabe.

    "In a moment, we''ll bring you the appetizers. May I serve your drinks, sir?" I said, pretending to be a waiter from an elegant restaurant.

    "Please, kind gentleman," Bob said elegantly.

    Uncorking a beer, I placed it in front of his plate, and I used the water jug on the table to pour a glass for Mom.

    "Pardon me," I said as I went back to the kitchen.

    The dinner went smoothly, and we let our parents talk for a while, listening to the music Mom had chosen on our shopping trip.

    When I brought out dessert, Mom gave me the secret signal we had agreed upon, and I left them alone, going back to the kitchen with the kids.

    "Well, chipmunks, it looks like we did it," I said as I sat down at the kitchen table, feeling tired. Teddy and Gabe celebrated, which made me smile. "I want to tell you something," I said seriously, making them stop their celebration and pay attention. "It may seem like what''s going to happen next will make Mom or Dad pay less attention to you, but I want you to know that if you ever feel like no one is listening, I will. Okay? No matter what it is, if you need a listening ear, I''ll be there for you. I''m your older brother, and you can always ask me for anything," I continued with a big smile.

    Teddy and Gabe looked at each other, somewhat puzzled, and said at the same time,

    "Okay... What do you mean, PJ?" Teddy asked afterward, "What''s going to happen or-" she continued, but a scream interrupted her. "What!" Bob seemed to have received the news.

    Immediately after Bob''s scream, we heard banging on the front door. "Amy, please, George is having a heart attack!" we heard Mrs. Cooper shouting.

    Quickly, the kids and I rushed out of the kitchen to the living room where Bob and Mom were at the door with the very agitated Mrs. Cooper and Mr. Cooper, who was holding his chest in pain.

    I hurried to Mom''s medicine cabinet and took out a box of aspirin, grabbing one and bringing it to the adults.

    "Mr. Cooper, chew this, it''s an aspirin," I said as I handed it to him.

    "Alright, PJ, take care of your siblings. Your dad and I will take Mary and George to the hospital," Mom said in a rush as Bob helped Mr. Cooper walk to his awful-looking yellow truck.

    "Kids, you can go to our house; my mom will be there," Mrs. Cooper said as she got into the ugly yellow truck.

    With Bob driving and Mom next to Mr. Cooper, trying to keep Mrs. Cooper calm, they quickly left for the hospital.

    Comforting my nervous siblings, I led them to the Cooper''s house after locking our home. We entered through the backyard gate, where Missy and Sheldon were sitting at the kitchen table. Sheldon was reading a book, while Missy looked worriedly at a basket of eggs.

    "Oh, hi Sheldon, Missy, are you okay?" I asked as I entered.

    "Hi PJ, yes, we haven''t had dinner yet, and Mom quickly left with Dad," Sheldon said, continuing to read.

    Teddy sat down next to Missy and hugged her, trying to comfort the youngest girl.

    Gabe also took a seat, grabbing an egg from the basket. "And these eggs?" he asked, slightly moving away from Teddy''s comforting embrace Missy said, "They were a gift from Billy Sparks."

    "More like from Matilda Sparks. I highly doubt Billy can lay eggs," Gabe joked, putting the egg back in the basket.

    "Yeah, I don''t think Billy can lay eggs either," I said, ruffling my brother''s hair. "Okay, let''s have dinner. By the way, where''s Georgie?" I asked, remembering the oldest of the Cooper kids.

    "I don''t know," Missy said nonchalantly, talking to Teddy.

    "Don''t worry, Meemaw is here! Everything is under control," Meemaw announced as she entered the house through the front door.

    "We haven''t had dinner yet," Sheldon immediately told Meemaw as she came into the kitchen.

    "Really?" Meemaw asked, sounding annoyed. "I don''t feel like cooking," she continued with a hint of frustration.

    Relieved that I didn''t have to cook, I took a seat next to Gabe.

    "You''re new. I know Mr. Aces and the Rockstar, but not you. Who are you?" Meemaw asked, pointing at Teddy.

    "It''s Teddy, my best friend," Missy said, hugging Teddy tightly.

    "Oh... okay," Meemaw said as she walked into the kitchen.

    "PJ, do you think it''s mathematically advisable to believe in God?" Sheldon suddenly asked, setting aside his book.

    "Well, Sheldon, you''re the one good with numbers, although there was a French mathematician who believed it was better to believe in God and have Him not exist than to not believe in Him and have Him exist," I replied.

    "Yeah, Blaise Pascal. I was just reading about that, but I don''t know if that makes it mathematically necessary for me to believe in God," Sheldon said, pondering.

    "If you have to believe in God for a mathematical reason, then you''re not really believing in God, but in mathematics. Beliefs are important, yes, just like the lack of beliefs, Sheldon. You shouldn''t believe in God just because it''s convenient, and you can''t stop believing in Him just because it''s no longer convenient. People choose to believe out of faith. If you don''t have that faith, you shouldn''t force yourself to get it. I believe you should believe in what you want," I said.

    "I understand, I think," Sheldon said.

    "Mr. Aces, Rockstar, and pretty girl, do you want dinner too?" Meemaw asked from the kitchen.

    "No, thanks, Meemaw. We already had dinner," I replied on behalf of all of us.

    A few moments later, Meemaw came in with plates for her two grandkids and herself.

    "Your dad had a little chest pain. Don''t worry," Meemaw said as they started eating.

    A few moments later, Missy asked, "Is Daddy gonna be okay?" looking to Teddy for comfort.

    "Oh, yeah," Meemaw brushed it off, "Your Pop-Pop used to have little chest pains all the time," she continued with a small joke.

    "Didn''t he die of a heart attack?" Sheldon asked.

    "Well, for insurance purposes, yes," Meemaw joked, leaving everyone except me puzzled.

    "Missy, I''m sure your dad is going to be fine. Before they left, I gave him an aspirin, and if the chest pain was really a heart attack symptom, your dad was well enough to make it to the hospital. I''m over ninety percent sure your dad is going to be okay," I said, noticing the puzzled looks around the table, and added, "or at least that''s what the books say," eliciting a relieved sigh from Sheldon.

    "Do you want to study medicine, Mr. Aces?" Meemaw asked as she chewed her food.

    "Yes, Meemaw, I want to be a doctor someday," I replied with a smile.

    From the entrance we had used earlier, Georgie walked in.

    "Hey, what''s goin'' on?" he asked when he saw all of us seated.

    "Dad''s in the hospital," Missy quickly said.

    "What?" Georgie repeated, surprised. "Why is Dad in the hospital?" he asked Meemaw.

    Meemaw and Sheldon simultaneously answered, overlapping their responses. "He''s gonna be fine," said Meemaw, "He had chest pains," replied Sheldon.

    "He''s gonna be fine," Meemaw said again after Sheldon didn''t speak at the same time as her.

    "What are we doing? Why aren''t we going to the hospital?" Georgie quickly demanded, concerned.

    "Nobody''s going anywhere," Meemaw said firmly. "We''re just gonna stay calm, have a nice dinner, and wait for your mama to call and tell us what''s what," she continued, not backing down.

    "I''m not hungry," Georgie said angrily as he left the kitchen.

    "What did you mean by ''insurance purposes''?" Sheldon asked, intrigued.

    "Just eat," his grandmother ordered.

    Getting up from my seat, I said, "I''ll go check on him," and followed Georgie to where he had gone.

    Sitting on the couch in the living room with his arms crossed, Georgie was watching TV. Taking a seat next to him, I didn''t say anything, and we watched TV together.

    Several minutes later, his siblings and mine joined us, and we continued watching TV while Meemaw searched through the Cooper''s fridge, taking out a bottle of ros¨¦ wine.

    Suddenly, the phone at the house rang, and Meemaw answered it. The Cooper kids gathered around, waiting for news. After a few moments, Meemaw hung up and looked at her audience. The three Cooper kids waited for her response.

    "What''d she say?" Sheldon asked.

    "The doctors are doing some tests, but, dollars to donuts, your daddy''s just got a bad case of gas," Meemaw said, downplaying the situation.

    "What do you think, PJ?" Sheldon asked, turning from his seat, causing everyone to focus on me.

    "Well..." I said, looking at Meemaw, who was gesturing with her hands and her face. "There''s a possibility it could be gastric reflux. The pain it causes in the esophagus, in an extreme case, can be mistaken for a heart attack," I continued, watching as Meemaw signaled her gratitude.

    "Y''all three go get ready for bed," Meemaw told the younger kids in the house.

    "I don''t want to stay around here," Georgie said angrily. "I want to go to the hospital and see Dad," he continued, demanding his grandmother.

    "Well, I want to be in Las Vegas and see Willie Nelson, but that ain''t gonna happen either," Meemaw mocked Georgie.

    "This is stupid," Georgie said angrily as he left the room.

    "You know what''s stupid?" Meemaw asked him. "I got to drink pink wine!" receiving the slamming of a door in response.

    Gabe and Teddy went to bed with Sheldon and Missy, respectively.

    I stayed in the living room on the couch, still watching TV and thinking about Mr. Cooper and how my father died in my previous life. Several times throughout the night, the house phone rang, and Meemaw, who was in the backyard, quickly entered to answer it.

    "Everything alright?" I asked the last time she came in.

    "Yes, Mr. Aces. Try to get some sleep. It''s going to be a long night," Meemaw said as she left the house again.

    An hour later, Georgie, along with the other kids, emerged in front of me from the television.

    "We''re going to see my dad, and they want to come. Are you coming?" Georgie asked, pointing to my siblings.

    Seeing my hesitation, Teddy said, "What if it were dad, PJ? Let''s go."

    "Alright, let''s go," I said as I got up.

    Georgie, Sheldon, and Missy went to grab Meemaw''s car keys, while Gabe, Teddy, and I waited in front of the house.

    When Georgie and Missy, without Sheldon, arrived a few moments later, Georgie seemed like he wanted to drive. So, I stood in front of him and reached out my hand. "I''m the oldest; I''ll drive," I said firmly, using my age to assert myself, as I was one year older than most of my peers and friends due to my birthdate.

    "Just for a few months," Georgie said, reluctant to hand over the keys. "Doesn''t matter; I''m the oldest, and I''ll drive," I said seriously.

    "Alright," Georgie gave in, handing me the keys.

    We all got into the car, with Georgie and me in the front. I started the car. "Can we put on some traveling music?" Missy asked. "Sure," I replied, turning on the radio. "Thanks," Missy said.

    "You know what you''re doing, PJ?" Teddy asked, a bit worried. "Yeah, don''t worry; I''ve practiced a few times with Dad," I lied to reassure them.

    Sheldon, for some reason, was wearing Georgie''s football helmet and had a bunch of pillows with him as he got into the car. "I''m coming with you," he said as he settled in.

    "Alright, let''s go. Everyone buckle up, please," I said as I drove out of Meemaw''s garage.

    During the drive to the hospital, Georgie, who was in the passenger seat, said in surprise, "You really can drive. I thought you were lying."

    "Yeah, PJ, you drive really well," Missy said, moving her head to the rhythm of the music.

    "Really well. Now, I feel like my practice was useless," Sheldon said, throwing his pillow into the trunk. "But I''ll keep the helmet, just in case," he added.

    Chuckling a bit at his antics, I continued driving.

    We spent several minutes on the road. Unfortunately, Meemaw''s cassette had only two songs, so the kids quickly got bored. "Admit it, PJ, we''re lost," Gabe said anxiously.

    "We''re not lost!" I replied, a bit annoyed at having to repeat myself several times.

    "Why don''t we just ask for directions?" Sheldon suggested.

    "Because we''re kids in a car, genius," Georgie snapped. "Even PJ, despite being older, still doesn''t have his license," he continued.

    A few moments later, we heard a siren behind us. Recognizing the type of siren, I didn''t get flustered and kept driving.

    "Oh no, we''re going to jail!" Sheldon said worriedly.

    "PJ and Georgie are going to jail," Missy said, "I''m saying I was kidnapped," she added quickly.

    "That''s a good plan," Teddy acknowledged.

    "We were kidnapped," Sheldon concluded.

    Chuckling a bit at the kids, I said, "No one is going to jail; it''s just a sign that we are on the right track."

    "Why, though?" Georgie asked.

    "It''s an ambulance," I replied with a calm smile, pulling over slightly to let the emergency vehicle pass.

    "Oh, thank God," Georgie said in relief.

    Following the ambulance, the kids relaxed a lot.

    Upon arriving at the hospital, I parked the car and handed the keys to Georgie. Without hesitation, Georgie took the keys and rushed with everyone else to the emergency room.

    Inside the hospital, we saw Mrs. Cooper sitting beside Meemaw, Mom, and Bob.

    "Mom!" Sheldon and Missy shouted as soon as they spotted their mother, running quickly to her side.

    Gabe and Teddy also approached their parents, while Georgie and I stood still under Meemaw''s furious gaze.

    "I lost the little rascals in the hall," she said while giving us a furious smile.

    "I want to see Dad," George said, ignoring his grandmother.

    "Me too," Sheldon and Missy said at the same time.

    "The doctors are with him now," Mom said, trying to calm the kids.

    "I''ll take you in a bit," Mrs. Cooper said. "Why are they here?" she asked her mother, pointing to the two kids.

    "I think it''s obvious," Meemaw said. "They love their daddy," she continued with a laugh.

    "No, I get that," Mrs. Cooper said. "Why aren''t they home in bed?"

    "Well," Meemaw said, looking angrily at Georgie and me, "nobody could sleep, and I couldn''t leave the Duncan kids unattended," she continued with a fake smile, as the smile didn''t reach her eyes.

    "Thank you for that, Mrs. Tucker," Mom said, hugging Gabe and Teddy.

    Approaching Mom, I hugged her, "You did very well in bringing that aspirin. Good thinking. Where did you learn that?" I asked.

    "In a book," I half-lied, "Did you tell Dad?" I asked.

    "Yes, he was very surprised, but with George''s attack, we had more immediate things to think about. I think he has digested the news now," she said, pointing to Bob, who was sitting reading a pamphlet about childbirth at the hospital.

    Stepping away from Mom''s hug, I said, "Well, I''m going to the bathroom. Does anyone need something? Is anyone hungry?" I asked everyone, receiving negative responses, and then left.

    Upon entering the bathroom, all the stalls were occupied, so I left to find another one. The next room from the emergency room was the hospitalization room.

    As I exited the bathroom, I noticed a patient who looked very ill through one of the windows. Feeling sorry for her, I stood there for a few seconds, watching.

    "We know what she has," a voice suddenly said behind me. Turning quickly, I found a grumpy man with a cane in his hand.

    "I''m glad," I said, genuinely happy, looking out of the window again.

    "Yes, it''s a shame we won''t treat her," the man said, standing next to me.

    "What!" I asked, surprised. "Why would you say that? Isn''t she your family?" I asked, a little annoyed.

    "Oh, no, not at all. I''m her doctor," he said. "I thought she was your relative, so you must be one of her kindergarten students," he said sarcastically.

    "Kindergarten teacher, brain tumor," I blurted out without thinking. "Ah, you know the case. What''s your name, young man?" the doctor asked, taken aback, grabbing my arm.

    "PJ Duncan," I said, pulling my arm away from his grasp.

    "Duncan, Duncan," he said, trying to remember something. "Ah, yes, the pregnant nurse. Your mother told you about the case," the doctor deduced.

    "Ah, you must be Doctor House," I recognized who he was.

    "I see my reputation precedes me, and no, it''s not a brain tumor," he said, turning around to leave.

    "Then it''s an aneurysm*, stroke*, or some other ischemic syndrome*," I said again without thinking.

    Pausing in his stride, Dr. House turned in place with a look of confusion on his face.

    "Why would you say that?" he asked.

    "If it''s not a tumor, my first thought would be an injury, but that''s something the patient would reveal," I said without thinking.

    "Everybody lies," House replied sharply.

    His sharp response snapped me out of my trance. His question reminded me of my teachers in my past life, so I responded without thinking.

    "Forget what I said, they''ve already figured it out, don''t mind me," I said as I turned to leave quickly.

    "Hold on there, or I''ll report your mother," House said from his position, making me stop. "What do you want?" I asked, annoyed by the threat.

    "You''re interesting. Quick question: a completely healthy man takes good care of himself, is orange in color, has no symptoms. What could it be?" he said, standing in front of me.

    I hesitated to answer, and this seemed to disappoint House. With a sigh, he turned in his place and prepared to leave. "I thought you''d be more interesting, kid," he said as he walked away.

    "Carrots and multivitamins, in excess," I replied, feeling challenged by his tone.

    Stopping in his tracks without turning, House said, "Explain."

    "Excess carrots make them yellow, and niacin or vitamin B make them red. One plus one," I said. "Isn''t that right?" I asked, somewhat proud to see him turn.

    "Okay, I retract it. You''re somewhat interesting, smart kid. Let''s play a little," he said, taking a seat in front of the room and offering me the other free spot.

    "It may or may not be one of those three things. What else could it be?" he asked with closed eyes and a smug smile.

    Taking it as a challenge, I responded quickly.

    "I thought of Wernicke''s encephalopathy*, but without knowing the blood thiamine level, I couldn''t reach any conclusion," I said.

    "Alright, the tests for blood thiamine level* came back normal, but there can be confusions, so run the tests again," he said, straightening up and opening his eyes. "Now what?"

    "Perform a Contrast MRI*," I quickly replied.

    "During the Contrast MRI, she had an allergic reaction. Oh no, she was about to die," he said sarcastically. "What are you going to do now?" he asked, trying to intimidate me.

    "Look for environmental or genetic causes that trigger an inflammatory response," I replied, showing him that his intimidation doesn''t work.

    "They give her a dose of steroids. Why?" House asked.

    The question caught me off guard. "I don''t know," I replied, thinking of possible reasons. House was about to say something when it hit me. "Wait, got it. To try to check if it''s cerebral vasculitis*, but it doesn''t make sense, especially for someone her age," I said, a bit annoyed.

    Chuckling for some reason, House said, "Yes, it''s strange that someone her age has cerebral vasculitis, but it''s also strange for it to be a tumor. Sometimes, you have to test to see if your theory works," he said sarcastically.

    "So, it''s cerebral vasculitis, then?" I asked.

    "Do you think it''s that?" he said, pointing towards the room.

    "No, it doesn''t make sense. She looks bad," I replied.

    "Yeah, she initially responded well to treatment, but then she lost his vision for a moment, and subsequent tests only showed intermittent altered mental status," said House as he swung his cane back and forth.

    Remembering something, House said, "They have a parrot in her classroom. Is that the cause or not?"

    "Obviously not. If there are little kids in the classroom, I doubt they have good hygiene around the bird, at least not more than the teacher," I responded.

    With a small smile, House said, "Good. We entered his house, and there was nothing among her clothes that could explain her symptoms. Her refrigerator had everything, all within the expiration date. Even one of the doctors ate a ham sandwich from there. There were no strange plants, no neighbors with animals, not a single rat dropping," said House. "After that, we figured out what it is," he said, leaning on his cane, asking a silent question.

    Thinking about everything he had just said, I realized a clue.

    "Is she Jewish?" I asked.

    With an even bigger smile, Dr. House said, "Everybody lies. We thought so initially, but now we know she''s not. So, what does she have?"

    "Neurocysticercosis*," I said with a bit of joy as House nodded.

    "Well done, kid. You arrived at the same conclusion as I did, but as I said, unfortunately, we can''t treat it," he said as he stood up.

    "What?" I raised my voice a bit. "Why not?" I asked again.

    "I''d like to treat it, really, but I lost her trust. She doesn''t want any more intrusive tests," he said as he walked away slowly.

    Frustrated with the doctor''s conclusion, I stared at the patient until it hit me. "His thigh," I said.

    House stopped abruptly. "What?" he asked.

    "Yes, if you do X-rays test on his thigh, you will find the neurocysticercosis parasites. Those parasites like muscles," I said. "And X-rays are not intrusive at all," I concluded.

    Turning around and looking at me intently, House remained silent for a moment. "Forget what I said before. You''re the most interesting kid I''ve ever met. We''ll meet again, and you possibly saved a life, kid. Congratulations," he said as he entered the patient room.

    ...

    Glosary

    Aneurysm*:  An abnormal swelling or bulge in the wall of a blood vessel, such as an artery.

    Stroke*: A loss of blood flow to part of the brain.

    Ischemic Syndrome*: Vision-threatening condition associated with severe carotid artery occlusive disease.

    Wernicke''s encephalopathy*: Acute neurological condition characterized by a clinical triad of ophthalmoparesis with nystagmus, ataxia, and confusion.

    Thiamine level: Vitamin B1, the normal level is 2.5-7.5 ¦Ìg/dL, or 74-222 nmol/L.

    ...

    Author Thoughts:

    Chapter a bit short (Overused joke), it was almost 14k words of history, wow.

    I''m not American, and I''m definitely not a doctor.

    Sorry for not posting these days; I was writing this chapter, which turned out longer than usual as a special celebration for (drumroll) reaching the tenth chapter. Thanks for reading all these chapters. There''s still a long way to go for this novel and, therefore, to improve my writing skills. Thank you for bearing with the errors I make. (Message I posted on the other websites, we are one chapter away here at Royal Road from reaching the current status of the novel)

    Now, I need to clarify a few things:

    1. I know the Mike Tyson and Douglas fight happened on February 11, 1990, not in August-September, i got the bet parley in internet i dont know if its accurate. I thought that in the United States, like in Mexico, the school year starts in two dates, January and August. However, it seems that, according to the internet, the school year in the United States only starts in August.

    2. Not all interactions in the House story will be as I wrote them here; it was just a first approach. I would like to know what you thought of it; it was like a little duel in which House was clearly leading.

    3. I will try to make the relationship with Regina as realistic as possible. Remember that they are in their first year of high school, so it''s not a full-fledged romance just yet. Regina will not be the only partner of the protagonist, or so I hope. Remember that the novel is not harem.

    4. As I explained before, the Duncan family serves only as a base to work on. Many things will change in their personalities and future goals in this story; Gabe has talent for music.

    5. The idea of writing song fragments I got from the novel by Alittlepiggy33 (Webnovel author) (if you ever read this, know that I really like your story; I''m a big fan). Together, we''ll imagine that the songs Gabe "writes" are his own creations. I''m not a musician, and I don''t know how to write songs, so I apologize if it bothers anyone.

    6. The FBI agents are just a nod to other series; in Young Sheldon, the agents don''t really matter, so I decided to add them as an Easter egg.

    7. I also know that in the first episode of Dr House, he said that he leaves at 5, let''s ignore that and think all together that he stayed in the hospital all night.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll fix them immediately.

    Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review, it encourages me to keep writing.

    PS: The update schedule might be a bit spaced out, as I''m still writing, and don''t expect chapters shorter than 2-3k words. Happy return to school for those going back to classes.

    PS2: I saw the movie facing the giants, such a bad movie, If you think it''s a good movie I apologize, mainly because you haven''t seen a really good movie in your life. If you have any recommendations for a good football movie, I would greatly appreciate it.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 11

    I missed this, being a paramedic my main mission was just to first aid people, of course, we saved lives, but only so they could reach the hospital, an important job, yes, but discovering how to save someone, finding the causes of an illness, is a completely different feeling.

    The rounds of questions with House felt so comforting, using knowledge that I hadn''t used in a long time was impressive, I had to study more, what I had once learned was getting a bit rusty, I hadn''t answered at the speed I would have been capable of when I was in the last year of medical school, but how? I can''t just ask for money to buy medical books, they''re expensive, and I need the money for the bet, the Internet is not yet such an easy thing to use, I needed a way to access knowledge.

    "Kid, I forgot, I won''t report to your mother, but I have one more condition," said House, who had returned and was standing in the patient''s room doorway, pulling me out of my thoughts.

    Annoyed by his new threat, I couldn''t say anything, furious, I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, stopping myself from hitting the incapacitated doctor. "You just have to come here from time to time, to play this... game we did, I think you can be useful to me," House said, noticing my silence as he leaned on his cane with an ironic smile.

    "What?" I asked incredulously about his condition.

    "Yes, I have a... team of ''expert'' specialists, but it''s more fun to talk to you, besides, it will be interesting to see how they react to being outsmarted by a kid of, what, 10 years?" he asked sarcastically.

    "I''m fifteen, almost sixteen," I quickly responded, defending myself, damn teenage hormones, why did I feel attacked when he mocked my age?

    "Yes, fifteen years old and answering questions that would make residents cry," he said as he approached slowly, "tell me, how do you know all that, are you a genius? Do you have photographic memory? Are you autistic, by any chance?" House mocked a little with each question, "no, obviously you''re not a genius, just a strange kid, am I right?" he said after studying my face.

    "Since Mom told me about the case, I focused on it and I''ve been studying to become a doctor," I quickly replied.

    "Oh, it shows, you have that spark of wanting to save lives in your eyes," he said with a snort, "as I said, obviously you''re not a genius," he repeated.

    "Yes, I want to save lives, isn''t that the most important part of being a doctor?" I responded, annoyed by his mockery.

    "Sure, that and being the most wanted passenger on a flight when there''s an accident on board, basically the most important person on the plane, after the pilot, of course," he sarcastically replied, "you still haven''t answered, kid, where did you learn all this?" he asked again, looking steadily into my eyes.

    "In books, at my school library," I lied, trying to hide the nerves that were beginning to creep in.

    "Mmh, of course, the Texan education system, shining since they closed the border to Mexicans," he said sarcastically, "come on, Duncan, you can do better than that," he said, emphasizing my last name, "maybe I should ask your mother."

    "No," I quickly responded with some anxiety.

    "No?" he asked, smiling with satisfaction, "so it''s a secret, huh?" he said, straightening up a bit.

    "No, she knows I want to be a doctor, she just doesn''t know I''ve been studying so much," I quickly lied, finding an excuse.

    "Like I said, everyone lies," he said, turning to walk away, "I''ll tell your mother to talk to you, I''ll offer to give you free medical lessons, knowing your mother''s behavior a bit, I''m sure she''ll accept," he said as he continued to walk away, "by the way, there are more medical books here than in your school library," he finished talking as he disappeared around a corner of the hospital.

    Surprised by what had just happened, I stood frozen in place, just one conversation with House and my secret was in danger. I couldn''t come here, I''m sure Mom wouldn''t accept it, she hates House. Although, possibly it was true, there are more medical books here than there could be in the school library or even the public library.

    Snapping out of my daze, I retraced my steps back to the emergency waiting room.

    Missy and Sheldon were hugging Meemaw''s arms, sitting in the chairs. Gabe was sleeping on Teddy''s lap, and Georgie was getting a drink from a water fountain.

    Mrs. Cooper wasn''t here, neither was Mom and Bob.

    "What''s taking so long?" Georgie asked.

    "Shh. Keep your voice down, car thief," Meemaw responded annoyed.

    "I didn''t steal your car, it was PJ, and we just borrowed it," Georgie replied in a much lower voice.

    "What? Mr. Aces?" Meemaw asked, looking at me with annoyance.

    "Thanks for that, Georgie," I told the teenager insincerely, "I''m sorry, Meemaw. Georgie wanted to drive, so I couldn''t let him. I''m the older one, it was my responsibility to drive, and besides, I did well, I know how to drive," I said, embarrassed.

    "It''s true, Meemaw, PJ drives well, he didn''t hit a single thing on the way here," Georgie supported.

    "Well, I don''t know what to think, Mr. Aces. I''d expect this from him," she pointed at Georgie, "but you seemed like a good kid. What''s on a person''s face isn''t always what''s in their heart," she continued while shaking her head in disappointment.

    "What I know is, you two maybe are gonna need to make bail someday," she said, pointing at both of us, "do not come to me," she continued seriously.

    After Meemaw''s statement, the waiting room fell silent until a very excited Mrs. Cooper emerged from one of the corridors, saying, "Good news! Your daddy''s gonna be fine," she told Georgie, "should be home in a day or two," she continued, giving the news to Meemaw.

    "Oh, and was it a heart attack?" Meemaw asked worriedly.

    "Just a minor one, no permanent damage," Mrs. Cooper replied happily.

    "That''s wonderful!" Meemaw celebrated.

    "Our prayers have been answered," the happy Mrs. Cooper said.

    "I''m so happy for you all, please give Coach Cooper my regards, congratulations," I said as I approached to sit next to Teddy.

    "Oh, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said, hugging me and preventing me from sitting down, "the doctors said your quick thinking with the aspirin helped a lot, thank God you were there and thought so fast, your aspirin probably prevented it from becoming something more serious," she said with great happiness, letting go of her hug.

    "Ok, come on, everybody, let''s say hello to your old dad. Oh, and PJ, your parents are talking to a doctor right now, don''t worry, they''ll come soon," Mrs. Cooper said, taking her daughter''s hand and hugging Georgie.

    While Mrs. Cooper left with her daughter and older son, Meemaw stayed behind with Sheldon. "Mr. Aces, you did a good job. Not only did you help George, but you also calmed the kids. Thank you," she said with a small grateful smile, putting a hand on my shoulder.

    "You''re welcome,-" I was saying, but she interrupted me, "but never steal my car again," she said with disdain, losing her smile. "Well, see you later," she continued with a big grin as she took her frightened grandson away.

    "See you, PJ," Sheldon said fearfully as he was dragged away by his grandmother.

    Sitting next to Teddy, she leaned her head on my shoulder. "What did Mom tell Dad before the Coopers knocked on the door?" she asked after yawning.

    "Let them tell you," I replied softly so as not to disturb Gabe.

    Several minutes passed as we waited for Mom and Bob. Teddy fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. I kept thinking about House and his ''invitation'' to study with him. It could be a great opportunity for my studies; after all, House is a medical genius, according to Mom.

    "PJ," Mom''s gentle voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "We''re leaving. George is okay. I''ve said goodbye to Mary and Mrs. Tucker."

    Gently shifting Teddy''s head to the other side, I got up, feeling my muscles a bit numb from staying in the same position for several minutes. I stretched a bit.

    "Can you carry Gabe? I''ll take your sister," Bob asked softly.

    "Sure," I responded, lifting Gabe. I wasn''t in the best physical condition yet, but Gabe wasn''t very big or heavy, so I could carry him without much effort.

    Bob lifted Teddy, and we all headed outside.

    On the way back home in the awful yellow van, we were all silent, mainly because the kids were still sleeping. "So, PJ, you already knew?" Bob suddenly asked quietly, breaking the silence in the car.

    "Yes, Dad, I found out a few days ago. Sorry for not saying anything," I responded just as quietly.

    "It''s okay, PJ. Don''t worry, it wasn''t your secret to tell," Bob said calmly. Mom nodded in agreement.

    Back home, Bob and I carried the still sleeping kids. Bob placed Teddy in her room, and with Mom''s help, I placed Gabe in his bed in our room.

    The next day, as usual, I woke up before the alarm, even though I hadn''t really slept much during the night.

    The neighborhood seemed like any other day, undisturbed by the events of the previous day at the Cooper''s house. People, like me, who had decided to wake up early to improve their physical condition, elderly couples who, like every day, decided to take a walk together, pets and their owners taking a stroll around the neighborhood ¨C in short, a good day.

    Returning from my morning exercises, as always, there was a glass of water waiting for me. But this time, it wasn''t Mom who had prepared it. Usually, when I returned, Bob would be sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, while Mom would be preparing lunches. Now, Mom was at the kitchen table, and Bob was preparing lunches.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    "Hello, you two, good morning, and what''s with the change in routine?" I asked as I greeted my parents.

    "Well, I thought, since your mom is pregnant, why not change things up a bit?" Bob said as he packed the lunch bags.

    "Yeah, and I thought, if your father wants to do my job at home, why not let him?" Mom added, propping her feet up on another chair.

    Taking a banana from the kitchen counter, I headed to take a shower, chuckling a bit at my parents'' carefree attitudes.

    I quickly attended to my hygiene, brushing my teeth and applying lotion after the shower. When I returned to the kitchen, the kids had already finished breakfast and were ready to go to school with Mom.

    Leaving me at the school entrance, Bob asked me to wait a moment before getting out of the car. "Remember, son, an apology and an invitation, it doesn''t have to be dinner necessarily, but if you want this girl, Regina, to forgive you, it has to be a good gesture," he said seriously. "Now, good luck," he continued, giving me a push out of the car.

    Arriving at the lockers, Georgie and my three other friends were chatting.

    "So, we narrowly escaped the police," I heard the enthusiastically excited Georgie saying as I approached.

    "I recall it being an ambulance, and we were following it. But well, you probably remember it better," I joked a bit as I greeted my friends.

    "Potato, potahto," Georgie said before receiving light smacks on the back of the head from my other friends for his lie.

    "Why are you here today and not accompanying your dad?" I asked Georgie after teasing him a bit along with my other friends as I opened my locker.

    "Mom thinks we don''t have to be there, and Sheldon agreed, saying we should come to school. Can you believe that? I could be in the hospital room watching TV, but no, I''m here taking classes," Georgie grumbled.

    "Anyway, do you think your dad will be well for the first game of the season? It''s this Thursday," Alan asked concerned.

    "Yes, Coach Cooper will definitely be fine by Thursday. With a heart attack, he would have been hospitalized for weeks to months. But luckily, it was a minor one. As long as he''s in complete rest for these two or three days and there are no incidents that agitate or strain his heart, I''m sure he''ll be here for Thursday," I quickly responded, causing a sudden silence among my friends.

    As I took my books and notebooks from my locker for the upcoming periods, I noticed my friends staring at me in disbelief. They were all looking at me with incredulity. "Sometimes I forget how smart you are, buddy," Alan was the first to snap out of it, "yeah, you''re like the smart Cooper, just taller," David added, "and nicer," Georgie chimed in.

    "Yeah, yeah, let''s forget SuperStar''s genius and focus on what really matters, after your dad didn''t die, obviously," Brock clarified with Georgie before continuing, "how did we not know that you can drive, SuperStar?" he asked, giving me a shoulder bump, and receiving excited agreements from my friends.

    "It just never came up in conversation," I responded, a bit embarrassed by their group excitement.

    "Well, that''s impressive, buddy. How did you learn? You''re still fifteen, right? You''ll be the first one to get a driver''s license. We''ll have a way to get around without having to ask our parents for rides," David said inspired.

    "Yeah, Dad gave me some lessons, and I pay attention to how he drives when I''m in the passenger seat. If I can pass the exam and test in a few months, I''ll have my license," I quickly replied, closing my locker. Obviously, that was a lie. I knew how to drive from my past life, but I couldn''t tell them that.

    "That''s cool. So, we''ll have transportation," Brock cheered, raising his arms, a gesture that my other friends imitated.

    Pushing Brock aside and heading to the first period, I said, "Sorry to burst your bubble, guys, but I don''t think so. I still need to save up money to buy a car, and I seriously doubt you guys have enough to buy one either."

    "Well, if you''re interested, my uncle is selling his old car, a chevelle ss," Brock said casually. "It''s pretty beaten up and definitely needs some work, but it still runs. He''s selling it for really cheap. Dad offered to buy it for me for when I can drive, but I''d prefer a big truck," he said, flexing his chubby arms.

    "Thanks, Brock. I have to save up money to buy it anyway, so if I have the money and he still has it, I might buy it," I replied, returning the shoulder bump.

    "No pressure, buddy," Brock responded as we headed to our first-period class.

    The day passed as naturally as life tends to go for me. Classes, as always, were extremely interesting due to Sheldon''s determination to answer all the questions and outsmart me in our ''knowledge duels.'' My classmates always had the confidence that I could help them with any problems they encountered, which led them to ask the teachers fewer questions and thus reduced their workload. Needless to say, the teachers were pleased with my presence.

    When lunchtime arrived, my friends and I made our regular way to our table, and as usual, we started discussing unimportant teenage topics. In a heated moment during a discussion about models in a magazine, David, who was listening to Brock''s immature argument, nudged Georgie with his elbow. Georgie, who was also interested in the conversation of the wider friends, was hit by David.

    "It''s Regina, SuperStar. About Coach Cooper''s incident, I forgot to ask how your date went. Were you able to, you know, touch her¡ª" He was saying until a light tap on the back of his head from Alan stopped him. "That''s inappropriate, idiot," Alan said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

    "Yeah, it''s very inappropriate, and no, nothing happened. In fact, I messed it up. I think she hates me now," I said embarrassedly.

    "You messed it up?" Brock asked surprised. "You? The perfect student, famous among the Freshman, loved by teachers, and desired by many, messed up a date with Regina George herself, a date she organized?" he continued with a mocking tone, causing three out of my four friends to burst into laughter.

    "Come on, it''s not funny," I said, trying to get them to stop their raucous teasing.

    "You have to admit, it''s a bit funny," Alan said, the only one of my friends not openly mocking.

    "Okay, fine, enough already. I didn''t mess it up that badly, according to my dad. I was just distracted during the movie and didn''t give Regina the attention she deserved," I explained as their laughter subsided.

    "You were alone in a movie theater with Regina George, literally the hottest girl in our year, watching a sappy movie by her invitation, and you were distracted?" David asked incredulously at my confession.

    "Yes, I was thinking about other things, and by the time I realized, the movie had ended. She seemed annoyed, but she told me it was okay. Only after she left did she change her mind and confessed that she was upset because I ignored her," I said, leaving out the part about Regina confessing to me. I didn''t want the teasing to get worse.

    "What was so important that distracted you from a girl in the darkness of a movie theater?" Georgie asked somewhat offended.

    "It''s not important," I lied as I stood up. "What is important is apologizing to Regina. I''ll be right back," I continued as I left my seat at the table.

    My friends, probably thinking my embarrassment wasn''t enough, started howling and making annoying whistling sounds.

    Trying to ignore my friends'' obvious attempts to embarrass me, I approached the table of the three girls nervously. I didn''t know why I was so tense. I was just going to apologize to Regina for how I treated her and try to make things right.

    Before I could reach the table, a small shout stopped me.

    "Hey PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam called out from his table, which he shared only with Sheldon.

    "Hey Tam, I told you, you can drop the last name. Be less formal, friend," I replied with a small smile as I continued on my way.

    The interaction with Tam had eased my nervousness. "Hi, girls. Could I speak with Regina for a moment alone?" I asked when I was in front of their table. Regina was eating a salad from a container, Karen was reading a magazine, and Gretchen was looking at herself in a small handheld mirror.

    "Hi PJ, good to see you," Karen replied cheerfully, setting aside her magazine.

    Letting out an exasperated sigh, Regina leaned in to whisper something to her friend before continuing her lunch.

    "I''m sorry, PJ, I''m not supposed to talk to you," Karen said quickly, picking up her magazine again and reading with interest.

    "Okay... Regina, I just want to apologize to you," I said after being amazed by the cheerful blonde''s response.

    Once again, Regina leaned in to whisper to her friend. "Regina says you can say anything you want in front of us. I think she means Gretchen and me," Karen said with a clear expression of effort on her face.

    Again, amazed by the situation I was in, I took a few seconds to regain my composure.

    "Regina, the other day I may have been quite disrespectful, I''m sorry, I would like to fix my past behavior" I said after thinking about my words.

    After a few moments of processing what I said, Regina leaned in to her friend for the third time.

    "Regina asks how you plan to fix your mistake," Karen said with great interest.

    "How about a coffee? Unlike movies, I''ll be fully focused on talking to you," I suggested.

    Smiling, Regina nodded and softly said, "Okay."

    "Regina says it''s okay," Karen broke the moment.

    "Yeah, I know, thanks, Karen," I replied, laughing a bit at her innocence.

    "All right, this means we can talk to PJ again. It''s been really hard not talking to him, right, Gretchen?" Karen said after letting out a sigh of relief.

    "Right," her friend said without taking her eyes off her handheld mirror.

    "Well, see you at the caf¨¦ in front of the cinema on Saturday. Does that work for you?" I asked Regina.

    "Yes, see you there," she replied with a big smile as she played with her hair.

    "Great, see you, girls," I said as I returned to my table.

    "Goodbye, PJ," Karen and Gretchen said simultaneously.

    Back at my table with my friends, I was greeted with teasing and bad jokes once again.

    "Sorry, Regina, I''m a fool, wha-wha," Brock mocked, pretending to cry like a baby.

    Ignoring their taunts, I continued with the lunch I had left.

    The day continued like any other. There was no practice today, so I went home with Mom.

    "Hi PJ, how was your day?" Bob asked as I got into his old truck.

    "It was a good day, thanks. You were right. I apologized to Regina and invited her for coffee," I said appreciatively.

    "I told you, PJ, that trick always works with your mom," he commented proudly as he revved up the truck. "Did I ever tell you about the time I brought termites into the house and your mom¡ª" he began telling me his stories on the drive.

    When we arrived home, as we did every day after school, I helped Teddy with her homework while I did mine.

    After finishing, as we were putting our things away, "PJ, Teddy, could you come to the living room for a moment, please?" Mom called out from the kitchen.

    Stepping into the living room, Mom and Bob were already in front of the main couch, and Gabe was sitting there. Sitting down next to Gabe, I smiled at my parents because I already knew what we were doing.

    "We have some really good news to share, and we want you to know that we love all of you equally no matter what," Mom said seriously.

    "That''s true, and I want you all to know that your mom and I love you all the same," Bob added.

    "We''re finally going

    to tell you that Gabe is adopted," Teddy joked.

    "No, what''s happening is, well," Bob struggled to speak.

    "What your dad means is that I''m pregnant," Mom quickly blurted out, waiting for the reactions of her two younger kids.

    "Congratulations!" I exclaimed, giving a little cheer as I stood up to hug them. After letting go of Mom, I turned to my siblings, who were still sitting on the couch, completely surprised by the news.

    Clearing my throat, I tried to get their attention. The only one who reacted was Teddy, who quickly stood up to hug Mom. "Oh, Mom, that''s wonderful! I hope it''s another girl. There are already enough guys around here," Teddy said, making Mom laugh. "Yeah, there are already enough guys in this house," Mom agreed, lightly tapping Bob on the shoulder.

    While Teddy was talking to Mom and Bob stood awkwardly to the side, not sure what to do, Gabe remained seated on the couch, his head down and saying nothing.

    A moment later, he stood up, didn''t say anything, and went to our room, slamming the door shut.

    "What''s wrong with him?" Teddy asked, surprised.

    "Oh, we knew Gabe would react that way. You both reacted similarly when you found out about Gabe''s pregnancy," Mom said, a little sad.

    "Don''t worry, I''ll go talk to him," I said, turning to go to our room.

    "We haven''t told you all the good news yet, PJ, wait a moment," Bob quickly said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    "What''s going on?" I asked, surprised.

    "Well, today, Dr. House approached me. He mentioned that you talked for a bit on the day George was admitted to the hospital, and you told him about your aspirations to become a doctor. So he kindly offered for you to accompany him after school to learn about his work. It''ll be like free medicine classes. Your dad and I have discussed it, and as long as it doesn''t interfere with school, you''re allowed to go," Mom said with a big smile, waiting for my reaction.

    --------------------

    Author''s thoughts:

    I''m not American, and I''m definitely not a doctor.

    Now, I''d like to clarify a few things:

    1. I think there was some confusion in one of the previous chapters. Regina is by no means the only relationship the MC will have throughout the story. As I mentioned before, I want my protagonist to evolve over the course of the plot.

    2. I am writing every day, but updates will be spaced out more to allow me more time for writing between chapters. For example, I sped up this chapter a bit more than I would have liked to update the story, but I want you to know that updates won''t be as frequent now. It might take 3-5 days at most between updates. Thank you for understanding.

    3. I would like to apologize if there was any confusion with the FBI agents in the previous chapter. This novel will focus on medical situations, and there won''t be any police elements, at least not more than necessary.

    I''m watching some writing lectures by Brandon Sanderson. They are very interesting and available for free on YouTube.

    I also finished watching the three seasons of "Superman and Lois." It''s a good show, quite entertaining, although sometimes the script can be challenging. I highly recommend it if you haven''t seen it yet, you can find it on Prime or Max.

    As always, if you find an error, please let me know so I can correct it right away. Please give me your power stones and leave a review if you haven''t already, or your favorite character from any novel will become edgy.

    Thank you for reading.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 12

    "That''s awesome, PJ," Teddy said excitedly as she gave me a hug. "Well, I have to go write a letter to Ivy. She''s going to go crazy over the new baby," Teddy continued, still very excited, as she headed to her room.

    "What?" I asked, bewildered.

    "Oh, you don''t know?" Bob asked, "Teddy has been writing letters to her friend Ivy in Colorado" he explained relatively simply.

    "No, not that, about Doctor House," I quickly said.

    "Yes, I was also surprised when he offered it. Isn''t it incredible?" Mom said with a big smile. "he said it would be something like a residency for you before your actual studies. He even said he would lend you all the medical books you want for free," Mom continued, very excited. "I couldn''t believe it, but he assured me that he had already talked to the hospital director, and she doesn''t have any issues as long as you stay with House," Mom happily concluded.

    Completely surprised by the news, I didn''t know what to say, so I remained silent.

    Noticing my silence and probably worried about my lack of response, Mom asked, "What''s the matter, PJ? I thought you''d be excited."

    "No, I am excited," I lied, "it''s just that I thought you didn''t like Doctor House. It surprises me a bit that you want me to study with him," I lied again after thinking for a moment. The truth was that I was scared. A few words with the man, and I was at risk of revealing my secret.

    "Oh, PJ," Mom said as she came closer to give me a hug, interrupting my train of thought. "Don''t worry about that. Yes, Doctor House is bitter and egocentric," she criticized the doctor''s name. "But that doesn''t take away from the fact that he''s a great doctor," she continued more calmly, giving me a strong hug. "He has a great reputation in the medical world. This might even help you get a spot at a good university," she finished, stepping back from the hug and gently stroking my arm with a reassuring smile.

    "I don''t like Doctor House either," Bob suddenly said, furrowing his brow. "I mean, with everything your mom has told us, how could I possibly like him?" he asked, jokingly. "But if he''s giving you this opportunity, I say you should take it. Learn everything he has to teach you, use all the resources he has to offer, and learn how to be a great doctor despite dealing with not such a great man, i say, do it if you really want to be a doctor," Bob said seriously, still with his hand on my shoulder.

    "You know what, why don''t we go to the hospital now? You talk to Doctor House, and if you don''t like his proposal, we won''t mention it again," Mom suggested with a supportive smile, encouraging me to go.

    After thinking for a moment, I nodded. I had to see what House''s true intentions were.

    "Alright, that solves it. While you two go do that, I''ll start preparing dinner," Bob said cheerfully as he bid farewell to his wife with a kiss and a playful tap on my shoulder. "Doctor Duncan sounds good," he added lightly as he headed to the kitchen.

    "Well, there''s no better time than the present, right?" Mom said with a smile as she grabbed her bag and left happily.

    Leaving the house, we got into Mom''s car and headed to the hospital.

    Throughout the drive, Mom chatted happily with me about things related to her pregnancy. I couldn''t really pay attention because my curiosity about House''s intentions wouldn''t let me think about anything else.

    The journey, with my mind preoccupied, was relatively short. Before I knew it, we were at the hospital.

    Entering the hospital, Mom approached the nurses behind the reception desk. "Oh, Amy, what a surprise! I thought your shift ended half an hour ago," said an older nurse.

    "Hi, Florence. I''m just here to bring my son with House, remember?" Mom proudly explained, pulling me forward. "This is PJ, my eldest son," she continued even more proudly. "Nice to meet you," I greeted the nurses. "Oh, yes, the boy who caught House''s attention," Florence said. "I''m sorry, kid," she continued with sympathy in her voice, placing a hand on my shoulder.

    Chuckling nervously at the last part, Mom asked, "Do you know where House is? PJ wants to talk to him about his offer."

    "Yes, he should be in the outpatient clinic," Florence replied with annoyance. "He''s been holed up in the office all day and hasn''t seen anyone. If you want to talk to him, I suggest you go quickly because he''s about to leave," she finished, glancing at a large clock above the reception desk.

    "Okay, PJ, I have some things to discuss with my friends here. You can go on your own, and when you''re done, come back. It''s down that hallway to the end, you''ll find another desk there, that''s the outpatient clinic," she said, pointing down one of the corridors and then turning to chat with the other nurses. "Oh, and remember, there''s no pressure. If you don''t want to do it, your dad and I will understand," she added, suddenly remembering and coming back to talk to me.

    "Yeah, I''ll be right back, Mom," I responded as calmly as I could. "It was nice to meet you, Nurse Florence," I bid farewell.

    On my way to the clinic, nerves grew with each step. The fear of House discovering my secret made me hesitate with every step I took. Just a few meters from the clinic, I saw him. He was standing with his back to me, leaning against the desk Mom had described, talking to an irritated doctor in a lab coat.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "You enjoyed that. I brought a reasonable case to your attention, and you shoved it in my face just to humiliate me," the angry doctor said.

    "You''re an only child, aren''t you?" House petulantly asked in response.

    "Why would you say that?" the perplexed doctor asked in response to the strange answer.

    "Everything is about you. This may seem incredibly controversial¡ª" House was saying sarcastically until the doctor noticed my presence behind him, distracting House from his punchline and making him turn.

    "Oh, Wonder Boy," he said with a smug smile. "No, that nickname isn''t for you, I''ll come up with another one," he said, losing the smile and grimacing. "What brings you here? I told your mother I''d call you when there''s an interesting case to discuss." He finished, intrigued. "I thought there was one, but no," he said, focusing on the doctor beside him. "Quick question, what could cause night terrors in a teenager your age?" he quickly interrupted the doctor, who seemed to want to say something.

    "Hi, Doctor House," I said emphatically. "Yes, I know. Mom told me you offered to give me free medical classes. I just wanted to know the real reason. You don''t seem like a big-hearted type," I continued tersely, ignoring his question, a little tired of his games.

    "I''ll tell you if you answer," he said petulantly.

    "Sorry, who is this House?" the angry doctor asked intrigued by our interaction.

    "Oh, just a somewhat interesting kid. We''ll be seeing more of him if he answers the ques¡ª" he was saying, but a loud sound of something hitting wood caught his attention.

    Turning toward the sound, I also saw a teenager sitting on another desk. He was talking to two adults beside him, possibly his parents. At one point, his leg, which was hanging off the desk, had a sudden nervous twitch.

    "That kid¡ª" I managed to say.

    "Yes, come with me," House interrupted, striding into the clinic.

    Without much choice, I followed House.

    "What''s going on?" the doctor asked behind us, but no one answered.

    "Don''t move. Did I bore you in there?" House said when he was close enough to the young man.

    "What? Ah, no, not, not really," the startled boy responded to the sudden approach of the doctor.

    "Are you tired?" House asked presumptuously.

    "Sometimes," the teenager responded, not really sure what to say. "He never sleeps! Of course he''s tired," the man next to the teenager affirmed, somewhat annoyed.

    "Right now, at this moment, are you tired?" House continued, ignoring the annoyed adult.

    "No, no," the teenager responded again, feeling a bit cornered by the doctor''s questions.

    "Good," House said as he nodded slowly. His eyes swept over the three people in front of him and then landed on me. "This is PJ Duncan. I''m sure he''ll tell you why I asked all those questions of your son," he said, taking a small step back, symbolically giving me all the attention.

    "What? Who is he?" the teenager''s father asked, annoyed.

    "PJ Duncan, didn''t I just say that?" House said with feigned intrigue towards the doctor.

    I didn''t know what to do. Of course, I understood what House was implying. The involuntary movements in the leg were symptoms of myoclonic jerks, and not being able to sleep or being tired could be symptoms of various neurological disorders.

    But I couldn''t say anything. That would only increase House''s suspicions. I was prepared not to say anything or to lie and say I didn''t know, but my eyes met with the face of the teenager sitting on the desk. He looked worried, completely focused on me with fear in his eyes.

    "It''s clear this kid doesn''t know¡ª" the teenager''s father was saying.

    "Myoclonic jerk," I interrupted, "what?" the man asked angrily, thinking it was some sort of insult.

    "It''s a mild, involuntary muscle contraction. It often happens as you''re falling asleep. The respiration rate falls, and the brain interprets this as the body dying, so it sends a pulse to wake it up," I quickly explained to calm the man''s annoyance.

    "So?" the man asked, a bit less annoyed and clearly more concerned, turning his attention to House.

    "So, he¡¯s not asleep, he¡¯s awake," House said sarcastically with a smile directed at me. "Admit him," he continued, now addressing the doctor who was staring at me intently, clearly shocked.

    "And you, come with me," House ordered me, heading out of the room.

    "House, House! Wait a damn minute!" I said as I tried to catch up with him. For a man with a cane, he walked pretty fast. "Answer my question, what''s your real intention in offering me to come?" I nervously asked when I managed to stop him.

    "Answer my question, and I''ll tell you," he said, still smiling and enjoying himself.

    "Just answer me. What do you want from me?" I asked again, now even more nervous and annoyed by his attempt to change the subject.

    "He''s your age. Three weeks ago, he started having night terrors. What could the reasons be?" he said, losing his smile and asking the question harshly.

    Annoyed by his games, I fell silent for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and gathered my courage to respond. "Post-traumatic stress, trauma, or sexual abuse. But considering his involuntary nervous movements, it could be a movement disorder or degenerative brain disease."

    House nodded slowly, his smile fading slightly. "Either way, this kid''s gonna be picking up his diploma in diapers and a wheelchair," he said with a furrowed brow. "Follow me," he continued, turning around and starting to walk quickly again.

    "You didn''t answer my question," I raised my voice with annoyance, refusing to follow him and standing still.

    Stopping, House slowly turned to face me again, looking at me for a moment. He pursed his lips, presumably thinking about the answer he would give. "Kid, you''re an experiment," he said after a few seconds. "You remind me of another young man who had grand aspirations of being a highly respected doctor," he continued seriously, lost in memories. "So, you''re here because you''re interesting. Even though you''re obviously not a genius, you know more about medicine than you appear to. I want to see how far you can go with proper guidance, mine," he said with a smug smile as he turned around. "Now, are you coming or what?" he asked, this time walking more slowly.

    ---------

    Author Thoughts

    One more chapter, obviously I''m not a doctor, and as I always say, I''m not American.

    Surely it goes against American laws for House to invite a minor like this to learn in the hospital or even to have that minor interact with patients or patients'' relatives. But it''s House, and this is just a fanfiction. I hope that if it bothers anyone or if it diminishes their interest in the novel, I apologize.

    I have decided that unless a special case arises, I will upload one chapter per week. Thank you for understanding my decision (although I might possibly ignore this self-imposed schedule and upload chapters whenever I finish them, we''ll see).

    Things I want to clarify:

    1. I will use cases and the way they solve them from the shows I will borrow for the construction of this fic. If you recognize any of the cases, it''s because obviously they are not my own work. They are the same cases, only with the introduction of my MC.

    2. Right now there are 3 followers and 0 favorites, if those numbers improve, I promise that the month of August will have 2 weekly chapters.

    I also want to thank cadeo for the suggestions, if I can''t in a few moments, tomorrow I''ll make some edits, thanks :D

    I believe that''s everything. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading.

    PS: Please leave a review, I would love to know your opinion of the novel so far.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 13

    Following House through the hospital corridors, I was thinking about what he had told me. If his intention truly is to turn me into a great doctor, learning from him and using whatever resources I have to study before returning to medical school would be the best option. In my past life, I didn''t get to study within a hospital environment or work with real cases. Sure, I worked as a paramedic, helping people on the streets, but it''s not the same.

    Without realizing it, we arrived at an office with a glass door. "Yes, if you hear me and learn what I''m going to teach you, maybe one day you''ll have an office with your name engraved on the door," House said as he pushed the door open to enter.

    Gregory House, M.D.; Department of Diagnostic Medicine, I read on the door before pushing it open.

    Inside the room, besides House sitting by an individual desk, there were three other people. The female doctor who had been arguing with House a few minutes ago, somehow arrived faster than us, and two other doctors¡ªone blond and one African-American. All of them, except House, had their backs to me, so they hadn''t noticed my arrival yet.

    "I recognize that loopy ''G''," House said, pointing at the board where the female doctor was writing, causing her to give him a stern look. "So, what does the jerk tell us?" House asked.

    "Nothing good, the brain''s losing control of the body. Can''t order the eyes to focus, regulate sleep patterns, or control muscle movements," the African-American doctor said, reading data from a folder.

    "Yeah, not good news for the family, especially for the kid," House said ironically.

    "Maybe not that bad, could be an infection," the blond doctor guessed.

    "You wish," House mocked, grabbing one of the folders. "Come here, PJ, and tell Dr. Chase here why it''s not an infection," he continued, surprising the other doctors who hadn''t noticed my presence yet, as he extended the documents toward me.

    With a bit of reluctance, I approached House and took the documents.

    "Whoa, whoa, who''s this kid, House?" the African-American doctor quickly said, "You can''t give clinical records to just anyone, that''s against the law," he continued, standing up.

    "You''re right," House said with false surprise, "my apologies. This is my nephew, PJ, and he''ll be your replacement," House continued with sarcasm.

    "Haha, very funny, House," the African-American doctor said with an obvious fake laugh.

    "Alright, alright, you got me," House said with fake remorse, "I lied, he''s not my nephew," he continued with a smirk of satisfaction, "he''s PJ Duncan, and from now on, he''ll be my assistant," House said more seriously than before, silently challenging the other doctors to say something.

    Seeing that no one refuted anything, House continued, "Now that we know who you are, Duncan, tell us why it''s not an infection," he said while sitting up straight with seriousness.

    Looking at the other doctors in the room, I was hesitant to open the documents. The doctor was right; it''s illegal for anyone to view a patient''s medical history.

    The female doctor who had been arguing with House in the hallway seemed intrigued by what I might say. The blond doctor sitting down appeared to be thinking about why House rejected his theory as he read the documents in his hand, and the African-American doctor, who was still standing, looked annoyed at House.

    Making a decision, I opened the medical history and quickly read it.

    With a sigh of resignation, the African-American doctor took his seat again, saying irritably from his place, "Why do I even bother?"

    "That''s right," House affirmed to the doctor. "So, Duncan, why isn''t it an infection?" House repeated, prompting me to respond.

    "No fever, no white count," I answered slowly as I placed the medical history back on House''s desk.

    "Correct," House said with a smile directed at the seated blond doctor.

    "He did the same with the patient''s family, explaining what a myoclonic jerk is," the female doctor said, smiling beside the board. "What? So just because he''s some kind of genius, we''re going to ignore laws and jeopardize patients?" the African-American doctor asked House, pointing at me.

    "To begin with, he''s not a genius, don''t say that too much, or he might believe it," House sarcastically replied, "and nobody will be in danger. He''s here, unlike you, to learn. I''ll ask him some questions, and if he answers correctly, I''ll give him a gold star on his forehead. If not, we''ll explain why not and possibly discover things during the explanation, just like you did with me, except I''m not paying him," House continued as if it were obvious.

    "So, you want us to teach this kid?" the African-American doctor asked even more annoyed.

    "Oh no, of course not. Why would I want you guys to teach him?" House said with false offense in his voice. "I''ll teach him everything he needs to know, along with these books," House said mockingly, grabbing a book from one of the drawers of his desk. "After all, I promised your mother, didn''t I?" he asked me with an ironic smile as he handed me the book. "Study it, I''ll ask you questions," he concluded.

    "Now," House said, standing up, "anyone think this differential diagnosis might be compromised because we don''t have an accurate family history?"

    "I took an accurate family history," the offended female doctor responded from her spot.

    "You didn''t even take an accurate family. His father''s not his father," House said, stating the like it''s obvious.

    "Why would you say that?" the blond doctor, now known as Chase, asked.

    "30% of all dads out there don''t realize they''re raising someone else''s kid," House replied.

    "From what I''ve read, false paternity is more like 10%," the African-American doctor, Foreman, discredited House''s assertion.

    "Actually, of all the possible fathers who take a paternity test, about 32% are not the biological father," I said without thinking, as my mind was occupied with the patient''s data.

    "Not even here for five minutes, and you''re already defending me. You make me proud, kid," House said, putting his hands on my shoulders with false pride.

    "Even if that''s true, it''s still very unlikely that he''s not the kid''s father," the annoyed African-American doctor said.

    "Who cares? If he got it from his parents, they''d both be dead by now. Can we get on with the differential diagnosis?" the female doctor quickly interrupted, preventing House from saying anything.

    "Fifty bucks says I''m right," House said with a challenging smile to the African-American doctor, ignoring the female doctor.

    "I''ll take your money," the confident doctor replied.

    "Hit a nerve? Don''t worry, Foreman. I''m sure the guy who tucked you in at night was your daddy," House retorted quickly.

    "Make it a hundred," the African-American doctor said confidently, now known as Foreman.

    "What about you, kid? What do you think?" House asked me after nodding to Foreman.

    "It''s hard to say. The night terrors might not mean anything," I responded, not really knowing what it could be.

    "Not about that, is he really his father or not?" House quickly retorted.

    "Oh no, I don''t think he''s his dad," I said after being surprised by the strange question.

    "Two to one, Foreman. Looks like you''re betting against two people now," House said smugly, grinning.

    "Now you want me to bet against minors too?" Foreman said, shaking his head.

    "Yes," House said nonchalantly after a few seconds of pretended consideration.

    "Wait, who said I''m betting? I just think he''s not the father," I quickly said, trying to get out of the mess.

    "What''s the matter, kid? Not sure of your statements?" House said as he sat back down.

    I really wasn''t completely sure. Dan, the patient, had a split chin, something he didn''t share with either of his parents. But it''s not necessarily a paternity test.

    "It''s clear that the kid only said it because you did. Leave him out of the bet," Foreman said with a bit of disdain in his statement.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "No, I''m in. One hundred dollars say he''s not the father," I quickly said without being able to control it. Once again, someone''s disdain towards me struck my ego. I should be able to control it, but for some reason, I can''t. Possibly PJ''s teenage body is affecting my psyche.

    "Alright, easiest two hundred dollars I''ve ever made," Foreman said confidently after a sigh, making House chuckle a bit.

    "What about leukoencephalopathy*? In a 16 year old," said the female doctor after a few seconds of thinking.

    "It doesn¡¯t necessarily have to be that bad. If we exclude the night terrors, it could be something systemic: his liver, kidneys, something outside the brain," Dr. Chase argued.

    "Yes, feel free to exclude any symptom if it makes your job easier," House sarcastically remarked. "See, kid, you can''t ignore a condition. You have to keep it in your mind to reach a solution," House continued, pointing at Dr. Chase as an example.

    Likely feeling offended, Dr. Chase straightened up and quickly said, "The night terrors were anecdotal. He could have had a bad dream."

    "No, the parents said he was conscious during the event and didn¡¯t remember anything afterwards. That¡¯s a night terror," the female doctor next to the board countered.

    "Parents said?" Dr. Chase quickly questioned with a prideful smile, causing the doctor to roll her eyes in disbelief.

    "That¡¯s a good point. Before we condemn this kid, maybe we should entertain Dr. Chase¡¯s skepticism. I want a detailed polysomnograph*. If he¡¯s having night terrors, I want to see them," Dr. House affirmed with a slight smile.

    "Now kid, he redeems himself nicely," House said again, pointing his cane at Dr. Chase as an example. "As I always say, kid, everyone¡ª" he continued.

    "Lies," I interrupted.

    "Well, you''re learning," House said with false pride as he stood up. "Well, I''ll leave you to get acquainted, kids. I have to go; it''s my quitting time," House said as he glanced at his watch and left the office.

    "And oh, Duncan, remember to read that book. I''ll ask you questions," he added, pausing at the office door to tell me.

    With House out of the office, everyone was silent and looking at me. "Well noted that the patient didn''t have a fever or a high white blood cell count," Dr. Chase broke the silence as he stood up, "nice to meet you. I''m Dr. Robert Chase," he continued, extending his hand for a formal handshake, which I gladly accepted.

    "Nice to meet you, doctor. I''m PJ Duncan. Sorry for interrupting your work, but Dr. House offered to teach me what he knows about medicine, and he has better books than the public library. So why not accept?" I said as I showed him the book House gave me and shrugged.

    "So you''re here to make use of the hospital''s resources," Dr. Foreman said annoyed as he stood up. "Don''t disrupt our work while you''re here, kid. I don''t know what kind of game House is playing, but I don''t want to be involved," he continued angrily as he stormed out of the office.

    "Pay no attention to him. He just feels a little threatened," Dr. Chase said, giving me a light pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, he might not be easy to warm up to at first, but you''ll see his attitude change over time," the female doctor added as she erased the board.

    "You''re lucky that House offered to teach you. He''s a great doctor. I can''t say the same about his personality, but if you''re going to learn medicine from him, it''s a great opportunity," she said as she also approached. "I''m Dr. Allison Cameron, by the way. Nice to meet you," she continued, offering her hand as well.

    "Nice to meet you," I said as I shook her hand.

    "So, did you learn everything from the public library?" Dr. Cameron asked after the handshake.

    "Yeah, you could say that," I lied, avoiding eye contact to hide my behavior out of embarrassment.

    "No matter where you learned it, it was impressive, like Dr. House, but without being a horrible person," Dr. Chase added with a friendly smile.

    "Thank you?" I said, confused by his compliment.

    "Yeah, even the way you dealt with the patient''s parents was like him. You provided a straightforward explanation of their condition. It was quite surprising. I''ve seen residents who can''t even explain a common cold to a patient''s family," Dr. Cameron joked.

    "Well, my mom is a nurse, so you could say I learned from her how to deal with patients," I quickly lied.

    "Oh, Duncan, I remember now. Your mom is the new nurse," Dr. Chase recalled. "She''s... how should I put it?" he paused, thinking of his words, "emotional," he concluded with a puzzled look on his face.

    "Yes, my mom works here," I confirmed, ignoring the other part of Dr. Chase''s statement.

    "So, that''s how Dr. House knows about you. He probably talked to your mom, and the topic of her son studying to be a doctor came up," Dr. Cameron theorized.

    "No, not really. A friend''s dad had a minor heart attack, so we came to the emergency room yesterday. I met Dr. House outside the room of a patient with cysticercosis. He thought I was the teacher''s relative, so he started a conversation with me," I explained to the doctors.

    "Wait, you were outside Rebecca''s room?" Dr. Cameron asked, surprised.

    "Well, yeah. She looked really unwell, so I felt a bit sorry for her. House came over, and we talked about her symptoms. I remembered reading that the cysts get attached to the muscles and the brain, but because they have a similar density to the brain, you can''t differentiate a cyst from the organ. So, I told House you could show the larvae by doing an X-ray on her thigh," I explained, feeling a bit embarrassed.

    Both doctors were silent for a few seconds, clearly surprised. "Now I understand why House finds you interesting," Dr. Chase said, breaking the silence. "Yes, that''s impressive," Dr. Cameron confirmed with a nod.

    Checking his wristwatch, Dr. Chase said, "It was nice to meet you, PJ, but we have to go. We need to talk to Dan''s parents about his polysomnograph."

    "That''s right. Well, I''m sure we''ll meet again. It was a pleasure, PJ," Dr. Cameron said with a friendly smile.

    Taking the book House left in my care, I said goodbye to the doctors and left the office.

    Back in the waiting room where I had parted from my mom, I found her sitting on one of the chairs, reading a magazine.

    "Oh, PJ, are you ready? Let''s go," she said, standing up and putting the magazine away to start walking towards the exit.

    When my mom noticed the book in my hands, her joy was evident. "So, did you agree to study with Dr. House?" she asked quickly, feigning disinterest as we got into the car.

    "Yes, for now, I''ll be studying with Dr. House," I responded, waiting expectantly for her reaction.

    "Oh, PJ!" she exclaimed excitedly, hugging me. "My son, the doctor! How exciting!" she continued, tears of happiness in her eyes.

    Patting her back, I waited until her burst of emotions subsided before we headed home.

    "So, Florence gave me the chance to take a later shift, and when you''re out of school, she allowed me to take a break to pick you up and head back to the hospital," my mom happily shared as we drove home.

    My mom continued talking to me during the ride, but I couldn''t really pay much attention. I was thinking about Dan, the patient, and the possible causes of his symptoms.

    Upon arriving home, I snapped out of my thoughts and, along with my mom, entered the house again.

    Bob was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading his insect magazine, which he set aside when he saw us enter. "So,¡­" he started expectantly as he stood up.

    "I''m going to study with Dr. House," I replied, showing him the book the doctor had given me.

    "Yes!" Bob cheered, raising his arms. "Well, I guess I''ll prepare a celebratory dinner," he said as he sat down again. "Doctor Duncan," he repeated, with a big smile as he picked up his magazine and opened it.

    Amused by the situation, I said goodbye to both of them and went to my room.

    The door was closed, which immediately reminded me of how Gabe stormed out angrily after the news about the new baby.

    Opening the door slowly, I entered our room. Gabe was on his bed, reading one of his comics.

    "Gabe?" I called, hoping to divert his attention from the book. "Come on, don''t do this. I''m talking to you," I continued, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

    "What do you want, PJ? I''m busy," Gabe said, moving his comic.

    "Let''s talk," I told him, reaching for the comic in his hands.

    "Hey, give that back!" he shouted as I took the comic, trying to get it back. "No, grab the ball and follow me. Don''t think we''re not going to play today. Thursday''s my first game, and I need to be in my best shape," I said, pretending to be full of myself as I stood up.

    Leaving the book House gave me to study on my desk and folding the comic to put it in my back pocket, I left my room to go to the front yard. It was still daytime, with people going about their business on the street. Mrs. Cooper''s car wasn''t in front of her house, so they were likely at the hospital with Mr. Cooper.

    Taking a deep breath of air, I smiled at everything that was happening. Faster than my previous life, I was on my way to becoming a doctor, I had friends, more family than I could ask for, I was involved in things beyond academics, and I was living a better life.

    Suddenly, the slam of the front door pulled me out of my cheerful thoughts. I turned around quickly to see Gabe storming out of the house, looking annoyed, with the ball under his arm.

    "Wow, what''s wrong, Short-Stuff?" I said as I reached for the ball with my hands.

    "You wouldn''t understand," he said, annoyed, as he threw the ball forcefully.

    Catching his strong throw, I held onto the ball for a moment, wondering what to say to him.

    "Is it about the baby?" I asked, passing him the ball.

    "Of course, it''s about the baby," he burst out, annoyed. "You''re the oldest, always getting more attention than anyone. Teddy''s the only girl, so obviously, she''s more special. I''m the youngest, no one pays any attention to me. I''m invisible. Now, there''s going to be a baby. Not content with being invisible, I''ll be nonexistent," he continued, sounding more sad than angry.

    Taking the ball in my hands, I approached my younger brother. "Gabe, you''re not invisible. Mom and Dad might seem a bit preoccupied, but it''s not like that at all. They''re just excited about the new baby. Mom said the same thing happened to Teddy when you were born. She thought they didn''t love her anymore," I said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

    Seeing that the joke didn''t make Gabe smile¡ªhe had his head down¡ªI quickly changed the subject. "Look, little man, if you need help with something, want anything, or just want to talk to someone, come to me. I told Teddy and you the same thing. I''m your big brother. Anything you guys need, you can ask me, and I''ll figure out how to help. Speaking of which, we need to find a guitar teacher for you. Don''t think I forgot," I said as I messed up his hair, waiting for his reaction.

    Slowly lifting his head with a small smile, Gabe nodded slightly. "Alright, thanks, PJ."

    Smiling at my little brother, I said, "Now, let''s play. I want to win the first game," flexing my arm. "Run, shrimp!" I shouted.

    ------

    Glossary

    Leukoencephalopathy*= Is a term that describes all of the brain white matter diseases, whether their molecular cause is known or unknown.

    Polysomnograph*= A type of sleep study, is a multi-parameter study of sleep and a diagnostic tool in sleep medicine.

    ------

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    Here ends another chapter. I want to thank all the people who comment on the chapters. It makes me happy to see that you''re looking forward to a new chapter every week.

    This chapter serves to introduce new characters. The next chapter will be longer (much longer). Expect a chapter similar to Chapter 10.

    Unfortunately, we didn''t reach the goal I set for two weekly chapters this month. For the next chapter, I''ll set a new goal, and we''ll do this every week from now on for special chapter update events.

    Someone recommended changing the cover of the novel, but I really don''t know what to use. I''m not good at art, so I don''t want to make something myself. If you have any recommendations, please leave them in the comments.

    Things I want to clarify:

    1. I''m not racist. The way I wrote Foreman in this chapter is just for the development of his relationship with the MC.

    2. The same goes for Gabe. I hope I can write good character development for secondary characters like I did for the MC. Wish me luck.

    3. Did you know that the first legal paternity test was in 1924 in Germany?

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any mistakes, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading.

    P.S. If you haven''t already, please leave a review. It really helps me gain motivation to write and know what you''re enjoying about my novel so far. :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 14

    After several minutes of playing catch with Gabe, we went back inside the house. Mom and Bob were in the living room watching TV.

    "Oh, kids, it''s good that you''re back. Get ready for dinner; I don''t want any sweat smell at my table," Mom said seriously, acknowledging our presence and then ignoring us as she returned to the television.

    I gently nudged Gabe from behind and urged him to head to the bathroom. "Clean up quickly; I''ll go next," I said as I continued on my way to our room.

    In my room, I left Gabe''s comic book on his bed and sat down at my desk. House''s book, which he had left in my possession, was where I had left it a few minutes ago, on the desk. I picked it up and opened it to its first page.

    The book was a typical old, non-commercial looking book that you''d find in universities. Unlike educational textbooks, it didn''t seem like it came from a regular publisher; its cover and back had nothing more than a reddish hue, like synthetic leather.

    I opened the book to the first page, where I could finally read the author''s name, which surprised me greatly. In stylized cursive letters in the center of the first page, I read, "Notes by Dr. Edward Donnall Thomas." With the book still in my hands, I couldn''t believe what I had just read. I quickly but carefully flipped through the book''s pages and skimmed its contents.

    In my past life, one of the most significant Nobel Prize winners for contributions to medicine was Dr. Donnall Thomas. He was a pioneer in bone marrow transplantation, and if I remembered correctly, he received his Nobel Prize in 1990.

    How was it possible that House had a copy of Dr. Thomas''s research? In my past life, there were no books published on the topic, only a few years later did they compile all of the doctor''s published articles into a book, which I devoured along with several other books in my obsession with medicine.

    Again glancing at the book, I quickly and superficially read its contents. When I reached the end of the book and saw a date written in the same stylized cursive font on the copy, I could feel my heart racing with excitement. I put my hand on my chest and tried to calm my breathing, but I couldn''t stop my mind from filling with terrifying thoughts. The data was extremely advanced but still incomplete. "Maybe I could..." I said softly without thinking, still with my eyes fixed on this valuable compendium.

    "PJ, the bathroom is free," Gabe suddenly said behind me, jolting me out of my daydreams.

    "Oh, yes, thanks," I managed to reply after a few seconds, returning to reality.

    Carefully placing the book inside one of my desk drawers, I locked it. I wasn''t worried about someone stealing it or anything, but one could never be too careful with such important information.

    Outside our room, I closed the door so Gabe could change clothes in private as I headed to the bathroom, still a bit spaced out by the weight of the research data stored in my desk. I walked with my mind occupied by my earlier thoughts.

    I took a quick shower to wash off the dirt from my body, still thinking about the implications of having the knowledge I possessed. Would it be ethical, or not?

    After the quick shower, I exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, still debating internally whether to act on what seemed to be a formation of a plan in my head.

    "Look at you; you''re almost like your old man at your age," Bob said, standing a few steps from the bathroom door, interrupting my internal debate. "You just need a lot more muscles to be like me," he continued, flexing his chubby arms.

    I couldn''t help but let out a small laugh.

    "What? Don''t you believe your old man''s word?" Bob said with exaggerated incredulity. "Yeah, right now, I could stand to lose a few pounds," Bob said, downplaying it as he patted his stomach, "but at your age, I had muscles the size of mountains," Bob continued, trying to pose dramatically.

    "I believe you, I believe you," I replied with a slight smile. "Yeah, with the daily training I do and football practice, I''ve gained some muscle," I continued, which wasn''t a lie. I had indeed gained a bit of muscle; PJ was already slim and not malnourished, sure, he had no physical condition, but with these few weeks of training, I was starting to see small improvements in my physique.

    "It shows, son," Bob said with a hint of pride. "Maybe you could start lifting weights. A client wanted to get rid of his weight set after he found out his garage was infested with ticks," he continued excitedly after remembering, "maybe I can get it at a good price if I offer to buy it. Would you like that?" Bob asked enthusiastically.

    "Yes, I could do weights; it would help keep my muscles healthy and improve my throwing strength," I replied gratefully to Bob.

    "Perfect, that settles it. I might even get back to exercising myself with the new baby at your mother''s and my age; a little more strength wouldn''t hurt," he said, slightly talking to himself as he turned to go to the dining room. "By the way, I came to hurry you up; we''re all at the table already," he said, pausing for a moment.

    Amused by the interaction with Bob, I headed back to my room. Gabe was certainly no longer in our room, so I had enough privacy while getting dressed again. My eyes fell on my desk, and I couldn''t help but daydream again about what was stored there.

    After getting dressed, I approached the desk to retrieve the book, but Mom interrupted me by shouting from outside the room, "PJ, dinner is ready; come now." I replied, "I''m coming," as I closed the drawer of the desk and headed out of the room.

    In the dining room, with the table set with large covered plates, the other members of my family were already seated in front of their empty plates, surely waiting for me. "Ah, the second special guest has arrived," Bob said with playful elegance.

    "Oh, thank you, thank you," I replied, mirroring his elegance and playfully pretending I was being greeted with applause as I took a seat next to Gabe.

    Tapping his fork against his beer glass, Bob stood up. "As you know, this dinner is special for celebrating two important things," he said with a big smile. "The upcoming arrival of a new brother or sister," he said, inclining slightly towards his wife beside him. "Sister!" Teddy interjected, momentarily interrupting. "And PJ''s great opportunity," Bob continued, ignoring Teddy''s outburst.

    "Yes, yes, congratulations. Can we start eating now? I''m really hungry," Gabe interjected bitterly, with impatience.

    Giving him a small kick under the table to get his attention, I winked at him with a calm smile, calming him down a bit.

    "Yes," Bob said with an ironic smile directed at his younger son as he took his seat again, greeted by a kiss on the cheek from his appreciative wife.

    "With you, the special dinner," Bob said ceremoniously as he removed the covers from the large plates.

    "Spaghetti and meatballs," Gabe said with false excitement as he reached across the table to serve himself.

    "Thank you, Bob, this is the best," Mom said as she held Bob''s hand.

    Despite being a ''special dinner'', the evening proceeded relatively normally. Teddy and Gabe occasionally argued about trivial matters, Mom shared a seemingly exaggerated anecdote from her youth, and Bob, recalling specific details about insects with words that only he found interesting, talked about black ants from Cambodia.

    Throughout the dinner, I didn''t say anything. I simply smiled and enjoyed the interactions in front of me. It doesn''t matter what I do with Dr. Thomas''s research, as long as it doesn''t affect my new family.

    At the end of the meal, Bob ordered, "Alright, Teddy, Gabe, get ready for bed." Turning to his wife in a much less strict tone, he said, "And you, go rest your body. I''ll join you in a moment." Finally, he turned to me, placing his hand on my shoulder and said, "PJ, help me with the dishes. I want to talk to you."

    Gabe, who hadn''t moved from his seat, had a big grin on his face and playfully remarked, "Someone''s in trouble."

    Giving his head a slightly stronger pat than necessary, I urged him to get up from his chair. "You heard Dad, go get ready, Frodo."

    "Your insult doesn''t work if I don''t understand it," Gabe quickly retorted as he got up and left the dining room.

    Chuckling in disbelief, I also got up from my seat, collected a few plates and glasses, and headed to the kitchen. A few moments later, Bob entered behind me, also carrying the remaining dishes. "You''re not in trouble, PJ," he said calmly as he stood beside me at the sink.

    After saying that, Bob remained silent for a few moments, during which he washed dishes and I dried them so they could be put away. "So, what did you want to talk about?" I asked after a few moments, unable to endure the awkward silence.

    "Well, I just wanted you to know how truly proud I am of you," Bob said, pausing in his washing and turning towards me with seriousness. "When you said you wanted to study medicine, I honestly thought it was one of those impossible plans, like becoming a famous rock star," Bob continued with a slight smile. "But, since that day, you''ve shown me I was wrong. You''re a star athlete, your teachers love you, and now you''re going to study with a renowned doctor. Every day I see you growing more mature, more prepared, closer to being a great doctor, and that fills me with so much pride," he finished, placing his hand on my shoulder while maintaining his small but proud smile.

    Seeing Bob''s proud expression, I couldn''t say anything for a moment. "Thank you, Dad," I replied with a slightly dry mouth before being pulled into Bob''s arms.

    "You have nothing to thank me for," he said softly as he gave me a tight hug, one I allowed myself to be absorbed into.

    After a few seconds in the fatherly embrace, Bob pulled away. "Let''s continue cleaning; you have school tomorrow," he said with a big smile, turning back to the sink.

    Wiping away a tear I hadn''t noticed had escaped, I took a deep breath with my eyes closed and, with a smile, turned along with Bob to continue our work.

    "By the way, PJ, I noticed you were very quiet during dinner. Is there something bothering you?" Bob asked casually as he continued to wash.

    "No," I quickly lied, making Bob nod slightly, and I felt guilty for lying after everything he had said. "Well, actually, I have an ethical dilemma," I continued after a few seconds of internal debate.

    "An ethical dilemma?" Bob asked, surprised. "What is it?" he continued.

    "Well, let''s say you have a way to achieve something," I said as I searched for the right words, "something good," I clarified, "but the way to achieve it isn''t very ethical," I continued. "Would you do it or not?" I finished, asking him.

    "Well, if you do this, would someone be harmed?" Bob asked seriously.

    "Oh, no, not at all," I quickly said.

    "Would you be harmed?" Bob asked seriously again.

    "No," I replied easily.

    "Then I don''t see why you shouldn''t do it. If it''s something good, what does it matter if the way you obtain it is somewhat unethical, as long as you don''t harm anyone, including yourself," Bob said easily and lightly.

    "Alright, thanks, Dad," I said, feeling somewhat relieved to have his permission, even though I didn''t really need it.

    That settles it. I''ll contribute my past knowledge to Dr. Thomas''s research.

    We finished cleaning all the dishes Bob had used to prepare and serve dinner. After exchanging goodnight wishes, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up and then returned to my room.

    Gabe was asleep when I entered, so I quietly approached my desk and slowly opened the desk drawers where I had stored the book. Taking paper, a pencil, a flashlight, and the book, I quietly moved to my bed. Lying down, I positioned the flashlight under my chin and began reading Dr. Thomas''s data and comments again. Occasionally, I wrote notes on hypotheses that the doctor had written about his theory, and if necessary, I corrected them in the paper i took.

    Several hours passed during the night. When I finished, I glanced at my desktop clock and realized I had only three hours left before my alarm would go off. Setting aside what I had on my bed, I turned off the flashlight and tried to sleep for those few hours.

    It seemed like I had closed my eyes for a second when suddenly my alarm clock rang. I couldn''t remember the last time I had heard it. I was used to waking up before it went off, but this time, due to my lack of sleep, it had been impossible. After getting out of bed and turning off the alarm, I began to prepare for my morning routine.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    "PJ," Gabe suddenly said from his bed, startling me.

    "What''s up, buddy? Did my alarm wake you up?" I asked after recovering from the surprise, turning to see him sitting in his bed.

    "Well, yeah," he said as he stretched a bit. "But I wanted to ask you if I can go running with you today," he continued, lowering his head a bit in embarrassment.

    Surprised by his request, I couldn''t respond immediately as I stared at him.

    "Well, since you run every day, I thought, why not join you? You know, after all, you''re my big brother. I heard Kevin McCallister say that brothers sometimes do exercise together, and it seemed like a lot of fun," Gabe quickly explained, even more embarrassed.

    Due to his occasional sour attitude and sense of humor, I sometimes forget that Gabe is just a nine-year-old kid.

    Seeing that I didn''t respond, Gabe lay back down. "Never mind, it''s silly."

    "No," I quickly said, "come on, it just surprised me that you suddenly wanted to go with me. Get dressed quickly," I continued as I pulled the sheets off him. "I''ll wait for you outside," I finished as I left our room.

    Outside the house, I took advantage of Gabe not having come out yet to start warming up. "Good morning, PJ," I heard from the sidewalk. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson."

    Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are an elderly couple I encounter every day during their morning walk.

    "Going for your morning run, huh, young man?" Mr. Wilson asked.

    "Yes, sir," I responded respectfully.

    "Very well, young one. As always, it''s a pleasure to see you. I wish Dennis were as respectful as you," Mr. Wilson said, causing Mrs. Wilson to give him a slight tap on the arm. "Oh, George, don''t be silly," Mrs. Wilson scolded. "Don''t mind this old grouch, PJ. I hope you have a good day," she continued as she said her goodbyes.

    "Likewise, thank you, Mrs. Wilson," I replied back to her and nodded at Mr. Wilson.

    A few moments after the elderly couple bid me farewell, the door of my house opened, revealing Gabe in a makeshift sports outfit. "Let''s do this!" he exclaimed with excitement as he approached me.

    "Alright, first, we need to warm up. I''ve already started, so just follow my lead," I told him calmly while continuing to stretch my joints.

    "What? Why do we need to warm up if we''re just going to run? That''s enough exercise," Gabe said incredulously.

    "Warming up will increase your heart rate, breathing, and body temperature, making it easier for you to find a good pace and maintain it," I explained as I encouraged him to move. "Besides, it''s important to relax your muscles, bones, and joints, so it''s less likely you''ll get injured. Okay?" I continued, looking at him seriously.

    "Alright, alright," Gabe said, a bit defeated.

    We warmed up for a few more minutes. "Alright, that''s enough. Let''s go," I told Gabe as I started jogging.

    Usually, during my morning runs, I go around the neighborhood for several laps. However, about 20 minutes in, I could see and hear Gabe starting to gasp for air. "This is your last lap, Gabe. We''ll head back home, and you can take a shower to freshen up," I said, slowing down my pace.

    "Alright, alright," Gabe said, struggling to catch his breath.

    "After your shower, you can have some fruit for breakfast. If you keep eating cereal with milk every day, it won''t do you any good to run with me. Of course, you can have cereal for breakfast from time to time, but not every day," I said as I stopped in our front yard.

    "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Gabe said wearily as he headed inside the house.

    Laughing at my brother''s attitude, I continued with my run.

    Having completed my usual run, I returned home completely sweaty. As is customary, there was a glass of water prepared in the kitchen to quench my thirst. Bob, who was preparing three different lunches, turned to see me as soon as I entered. "PJ, good morning," he said cheerfully. "Good morning, Dad," I replied, leaving the empty glass in the sink.

    "Did you take your brother for a run with you today?" Bob asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

    "Yes, surprisingly, it was his idea. He wanted to go with me," I replied with an incredulous smile, which he mirrored.

    "That''s good. He probably sees you as his role model," Bob said.

    "Role model for whom?" Mom suddenly interjected as she entered the kitchen.

    "For Gabe, dear. He went running with PJ today," Bob said proudly, patting my shoulders.

    "Really? That''s great," Mom said excitedly. "I know he''s going through a phase of jealousy because of the baby. Exercising with you might help distract him from that," she continued, a bit sadly, as she approached the kitchen counter to grab a plate of scrambled eggs that Bob had left.

    As Mom passed by me, she quickly covered her nose. "Phew, PJ, go take a shower. Pregnancy nose," she said as she moved away rapidly.

    Incredulous at her sporadic reaction, I couldn''t help but laugh a little, a gesture that Bob replicated. "Sorry, Mom, I''m going," I said as I exited the kitchen.

    Continuing with my daily routine, I took a shower to clean off the sweat, brushed my teeth, and applied deodorant and body lotion.

    Exiting the bathroom and heading back to my room, I encountered Gabe, who seemed revitalized with his backpack on his back. "Hey again, PJ. Tomorrow, I''m going to run even more than today. You''ll see," he said as he continued walking towards the kitchen.

    Happy about Gabe''s enthusiasm, I continued on my way to my room, where I dressed for the day and packed what I needed for school, including Dr. Thomas''s book, which I carefully placed in my backpack.

    Back in the kitchen, now dressed for the day, I joined my family at the kitchen table. Gabe, following my advice, was having a glass of milk along with a big apple he proudly displayed.

    "Good morning, Teddy," I greeted my sister as I grabbed an apple from the counter. "Hi, PJ," the teenager replied happily.

    "Alright, if you''re ready, it''s time to go. PJ, remember, from today on, I''ll pick you up to go to the hospital," Mom said as she gathered her things from the table.

    "Okay, Mom. Goodbye, Gabe. Goodbye, Teddy," I said, bidding farewell to my siblings.

    After finishing my apple, along with Bob, we left the house on our way to the dreaded yellow van.

    During the ride to school, Bob remembered, "Oh, right, today I''m going to meet my client to offer to buy his weight set. Maybe if Gabe sees us working out with weights, he might want to do it too, like a father-and-sons activity," he continued happily, surely envisioning the future.

    Upon arriving at school several minutes later, Bob said his goodbyes. "See you at home, PJ. Learn a lot, both here at school and at the hospital," he said before closing the door after bidding me farewell.

    Walking through the school hallways and greeting every classmate who recognized me with a nod or a fist bump, I reached my locker, where my four friends were already arguing about something.

    "Super

    Star, it''s good you''re here," Brock said as he pulled me into a one-armed hug. "Tell David and Georgie that I could totally take down a bear," he continued arrogantly, puffing out his chest.

    "Yeah, he could definitely take down a bear," I said, making Brock puff his chest even more, while I smiled and greeted my other friends with a nod. "I mean, I think a bear''s sense of smell is one of the best in the forest," I added with a little laugh, followed by David and Georgie''s laughter.

    "Haha, very funny," Brock said, taking his arm off my shoulders and giving me a playful punch.

    Continuing with their discussion, David, Georgie, and Brock ignored Alan and me as we retrieved our belongings from our lockers.

    "Did something good happen?" Alan asked with intrigue.

    "What?" I responded, surprised.

    "Yeah, it seems like something good happened. You were walking happier than usual," Alan said seriously as he studied my face.

    Surprised by my friend''s perceptiveness, I closed my locker and replied, "No, nothing really special happened. Well, my younger brother started running with me in the mornings."

    "Yeah... that''s probably it," suspiciously said Alan. "Well, whatever," he continued as he closed his locker and rejoined my other three friends.

    The day went by relatively normally, everything was as usual, except this time I was tired by the last period. No matter how much data I have, I need to sleep well. I couldn''t afford to have little rest right now. I''ll have to get used to it when I get to the residence, not now.

    During lunch, nothing really interesting happened, and like that, the day passed.

    After school, I said goodbye to my friends at the main entrance, and on the main path, I could see my mom''s car parked.

    "Hi, Mom," I greeted as soon as I got into the car.

    "PJ, how was school?" she asked cheerfully as she started the car.

    "Good, it was a good day," I replied, still tired. I moved the seat back a bit, settled in, and closed my eyes for a moment.

    "PJ," my mom woke me up by shaking my arm, "we''re here," she said when I opened my eyes.

    I had fallen asleep on the way; I really couldn''t disrupt my sleep schedule, especially now that my brain wasn''t fully developed.

    Getting out of the car, I took my backpack and entered the hospital with my mom. Once again, I separated from her at the reception while greeting the other nurses.

    "Nurse Florence, how are you today? Besides being completely dazzling," I greeted the older nurse with a smile, making my mom''s boss laugh foolishly.

    "Oh, PJ, I''m well, thank you very much," she said, smiling. "I hope that when you become a doctor, you''ll treat the nurses with the same respect," she said seriously.

    "Count on it. Well, see you later," I said, bidding farewell to my mom and the senior nurse.

    On the way to Dr. House''s office, I mentally reviewed what I remembered about Dan, the patient with night terrors, and also went over the book that kept me up all night.

    Arriving at House''s office, I found him sitting at his desk with the other three doctors, examining MRI images.

    "Oh, the kid''s here. Go ahead and tell us if you see anything, specifically if you see meningeal enhancement*, possibly viral meningitis," House speculated.

    Approaching the images, I nodded and smiled at the three doctors standing next to them, receiving acknowledgment from only two of them.

    "Is this Dan''s MRI?" I asked as I studied the images.

    "Yes," confirmed Dr. Cameron with a smile.

    "So, what do you see?" prompted House.

    "No, there''s no evidence of meningitis in these MRIs," I replied to House as I approached his desk to put down my backpack and take out the book.

    "Correct, there''s not. He''s completely wrong," said Dr. House cheerfully, pointing at Dr. Chase.

    "Then what clue are you talking about?" asked Dr. Cameron, annoyed.

    "He knew that I saw something on the MRI, so he figured there must be something there and took a guess. Clever, but also pathetic," House said sarcastically.

    "So, what did you find?" asked Dr. Chase, irritated.

    "Let''s see if the kid saw anything. Did you only look for meningeal enhancement, or did you actually look to find something?" House asked seriously, looking me in the eyes.

    This was surely a test. Being a teenager, he should have an absolutely pristine brain; any irregularity should be rare. There were no lesions, white matter, tumors, but there was a structural anomaly.

    Studying my face, House smiled and said, "Ah, you did see something. Speak up."

    "It might be nothing. I should mention that Dan could have moved during the MRI," I said, shaking my head.

    "Or he could die at any moment because you doubted your own eyes," House said as he approached. "Tell me, Duncan, what did you see?" he continued, standing next to the other doctors who were examining the images more closely.

    "Well, in the corpus callosum*," I said, causing the other three doctors to lean in to see that area and House to smile. "The corpus callosum what?" he asked with an ironic smile.

    "There''s some bowing, an upward arch," I replied as I approached the images to point it out.

    "And that''s absolutely correct," said House, dancing a bit.

    "He probably just moved; nobody stays perfectly still for their entire MRI," Foreman said, shaking his head in annoyance.

    "Yes, that''s what I thought," I said with a small smile that he didn''t reciprocate.

    "Yeah, he probably got restless and shifted one hemisphere of his brain to a more comfortable position," House said sarcastically. "Something is pushing on it," House continued, leaning back on the side of his desk.

    "If there''s bowing, it could be a tumor," Foreman said as he sat in the office chair.

    "Kid, did you see a tumor on this MRI?" House asked mockingly.

    Without looking at Dr. Foreman, I shook my head and said, "No, there''s no tumor, it''s just a blockage."

    "Yes, just a blockage causing pressure, causing symptoms," House said with a smile aimed at Dr. Foreman. "Today night terrors, tomorrow he''s bleeding out of his eyes," House continued seriously. "Get him a radionucleotide cisternogram*. I guarantee you''ll see a blockage," House finished as he took the book I had returned and sat down at his desk.

    When the three doctors left the office, House invited me to sit down, pointing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

    "What did you think of the book?" House asked slowly as he put it away.

    "Very interesting," I replied. "Do you think he can perform the transplant?" I asked as I settled into the chair offered by House.

    "Yes, Dr. Donnall Thomas is a very capable physician. He was my professor during my student years. That''s why I have this special copy; he sent it to me a few days ago," House said as he leaned back in his chair.

    "So, you have contact with the doctor?" I asked House, sitting up in the chair.

    "Yes, I even have his private office number," House said with false pride.

    Now more excited, I asked, "Could you send him a few questions on my behalf?"

    "Sure," House said as he propped his feet up on his desk. "As long as you can answer mine afterward," he continued with a sinister smile. "After all, I told you I would ask you a few questions, didn''t I?" he finished.

    House began to ask me questions about the data in the book¡ªnumbers, percentages, theoretical procedures, possible results or problems, and my own conclusions. I was able to answer most of the questions to my satisfaction.

    Now with his feet under his desk, House said with a faint smile, "Well, it seems you really studied. For now, you pass," he said as he stood up. "Now, do you have those questions written down, or do you want some paper and a pencil?" he continued.

    "I have paper and a pencil right here," I said as I opened my backpack again.

    "Good, I''ll be right back. I need to pee. When I return, you better have those questions prepared because it''s time for the results to come out," House said as he left the office.

    Writing a letter addressed to Dr. Thomas, I added a few questions along with ''possible'' answers. I already knew the answers to the questions I was asking, so I hid my true knowledge in those ''possible'' answers. If I really wanted to be part in a Nobel Prize, I had to stand out¡ªnot enough to arouse suspicion, but enough to generate interest.

    A few moments after finishing the letter, House entered the office again.

    "Are you done?" he asked as he took the letter and read it. "Very flattering," he said sarcastically. "But alright, I''ll send it under my name. Let me add a note to it," he continued as he took a small Post-It note and wrote on it before attaching it to my letter.

    "Alright, take this," he said, taking another book from his desk.

    This time, the book seemed commercial. It was definitely an old and worn text, but it came from a publishing company. Taking the book, I stored it in my backpack.

    "This time, you have more time. I''ll ask you some questions in a few days, but I won''t tell you when, so be prepared," House said seriously.

    Taking an envelope from his desk, he folded my letter and placed it inside. "Let''s go," he said as he left his office again, with the envelope in his hand.

    Taking my now heavier backpack, with the new book inside, I followed him quickly. House was very fast with his cane.

    Arriving at a desk outside the outpatient clinic, House dropped the envelope into a basket with other letters. "Let''s go find your siblings; I''m sure the results are in by now," House said joking as he moved forward.

    Following House, I couldn''t take my eyes off the basket full of envelopes. This was the next step in my medical career.

    ---

    Glossary

    Meningeal enhancement*: This is a generic term related to the enhancement of the membranes that envelop the brain and spinal cord.

    Corpus callosum*: It is the largest white matter structure in the brain, connecting the two hemispheres.

    Radionucleotide cisternogram*: This is a nuclear scan test used to diagnose problems with the flow of spinal fluid.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts

    As always, I''m not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    I know that in the previous chapter, I said that this chapter would be very long. Indeed, in my files, this chapter has another 5k words. However, this week I will be very busy with school, so to take some academic pressure off, I decided to split Chapter 14 into two parts. Therefore, the continuation will be in Chapter 15.

    Now, I''ll set a new goal so that starting next week, there will be two chapters per week instead of one for four weeks (8 chapters in a month). According to the page there are 8 followers, I would like 2 more of those readers to leave a review if so starting next week, there will be two chapters per week. :D

    In this chapter, there were two ''cameos.'' If anyone discovers one or both, you win an incredible prize (I think I don''t need to specify anymore, but there''s no prize). Good luck.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading. :D

    P.S. Leave a comment too. It doesn''t count toward the weekly goal, but I always enjoy reading comments.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 15

    After a few minutes of walking alongside House in a glass-walled hospital room, Doctors Foreman and Chase were there, seemingly discussing something amusing as they were smiling and laughing.

    When the two doctors noticed House approaching, and consequently me, they lost their cheerful demeanor. Dr. Chase simply put on a professional, serious face, while Foreman furrowed his brow, clearly annoyed by my presence.

    "You were right, there''s a lot of blockage," Foreman said to House, completely ignoring me.

    "I''ve scheduled him for surgery. They''re gonna put a shunt into one of the ventricles to give the cerebrospinal fluid an out," Dr. Chase said, standing upright and speaking as professionally as possible.

    "No more pressure, everything goes back to normal," concluded Dr. Foreman calmly.

    "He''s lucky to have you," House said ironically, addressing the two doctors, "and I wasn''t talking to you," he continued, causing the two doctors to be visibly irritated as he turned and walked away.

    Feeling uncomfortable in front of the two disgruntled or disappointed doctors, I could only nod in greeting. Dr. Chase returned the gesture, while Dr. Foreman merely furrowed his brow further and seemed to want to say something.

    "Come on, kid, we have to deal with the most boring part of my job," House interrupted, already several steps away from where I was.

    Grateful for the interruption, I could only nod again. I didn''t wait to see if either of the two doctors imitated the gesture. I quickly turned and followed House.

    At a brisk pace, I quickly caught up to him. "Why do you do that?" I asked, annoyed.

    House raised his eyebrow incredulously, nearly halfway up his forehead. "Do what?" he asked arrogantly, still walking.

    "You know what I mean. I think Dr. Foreman already hates me, why do you have to give him more reasons to do so?" I asked, exasperated, trying to make him understand the seriousness of the matter.

    House stopped abruptly, furrowing his brow, and turned to face me. "PJ, medicine is not a game," he said very seriously. "We hold people''s lives in our hands, with families'' pressure constantly on our shoulders, breathing down our necks, hoping we can help their loved ones," he continued, gesturing emphatically. "If you care more about people''s feelings than your patient''s health, you might overlook important things and, as a result, lose your patient," he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder, still serious.

    "I understand that, House, but there''s no need to antagonize Dr. Foreman or Chase, even Dr. Cameron, to save the patient," I said, now calmer.

    House seemed to ponder for a moment on what I said. "You''re right," he said, removing his hand from my shoulder. "Allow me to revise my answer, then," he continued, now with a small smile. "I do it because it''s fun. Foreman''s face when a kid is right and he''s not, it''s priceless," he finished with a big sarcastic smile, then turned around to continue walking.

    Incredulous at his audacity, I could do nothing but stand still and watch him as he walked away.

    "Come on, kid, I''ll teach you how to conduct a real medical examination," House said, pulling me out of my thoughts, followed by a muttered remark that I didn''t quite catch.

    I quickly caught up with him on the other side of the hallway.

    "Now, you need to understand that in outpatient clinic work, there are four types of patients," House said, still advancing. "There are those who obviously just have a cold," he said, annoyed, raising one finger. "Then there are those who want drugs from addictions to sexual reasons," he said, raising a second finger. "Then there are the hypochondriacs, they''re the most fun. Sometimes you can pretend they have some horrible disease and watch them get scared," he said, raising a third finger before lowering his hand again and continuing to walk.

    "You said there were four types of patients," I said, puzzled by his omission.

    "Right," House said with fake surprise. "The fourth type is the idiot," he continued sarcastically. "No, scratch that, they''re all idiots, but the fourth type is the worst," he continued, as we reached the reception desk of the outpatient clinic.

    "Dr. House, here you go," the nurse at the desk said, handing House a folder containing what was likely a patient''s records.

    "Thanks," House responded, taking the papers without a hint of gratitude. "Dr. House, reporting for duty at three-thirty," he continued after checking the time on his wristwatch. "You can send them in in a few minutes," House instructed the nurse before moving towards one of the examination rooms.

    Quietly bidding farewell to the nurse with a friendly smile, which was happily returned, I followed House into the examination room.

    "Put this on," House said, handing me a gown with his name embroidered on it. "Don''t worry, no one will read that," he continued when he noticed me reading the embroidery.

    "Now, I want you to sit and learn how this is done," House said apathetically. "Of course, until I tell you to get up and do something," he continued in a whispered attempt that I could now hear.

    A few moments later, the examination room door was knocked on. House, with a look of annoyance on his face, said apathetically, "Come in," allowing the door to open.

    The one who opened the door was none other than the nurse who had handed House the documents, and behind her was a blonde woman carrying a baby, thanking the nurse the woman entered the room, the nurse then excused herself and left the room, but not before closing the door behind her.

    "Alright, what do we have here?" House said as he read the documents while the woman took a seat.

    "This is Madeline, she''s 7 months old," the woman said cheerfully while rocking her baby.

    "How much formula does she get in a day?" House asked as he filled out a form.

    "No formula," the woman said with a big smile, "just mommy''s healthy natural breast milk," she continued while playing with a small frog plushie in front of her baby.

    "Yummy," House commented sarcastically.

    "Her whole face just got swollen like this overnight," the woman said, now more serious.

    House nodded in agreement as he continued reading the medical records. "Come here," he indicated for me to approach the baby.

    "Check her temperature," House ordered. "Also, her glands," he continued while evaluating me by gently placing my hand on her.

    "She doesn''t have a fever, and her glands are normal," I replied to House.

    "Good," he responded after verifying it for himself. "I can''t find her vaccination records," House said, now addressing the mother.

    "We''re not vaccinating," the woman quickly commented, as if it were an obvious choice.

    Seemingly taken aback, House looked at the woman and her daughter with disbelief. Then he turned slightly to me, whispering, "Type four," before sighing with irritation and returning to the little family in front of him.

    "You think they don''t work?" he asked, forcing himself to avoid making what would likely be an insult.

    "I think some multinational pharmaceutical company wants me to think they work, to pad their bottom line," the woman said, causing House and me to share a look of disbelief.

    Nodding slowly, House pointed to the toy the woman was holding along with her daughter. "May I?" he asked.

    "Sure," the woman agreed to let House take the plushie.

    Playing with the plushie in front of the baby, making small frog-like noises, House inspected the toy. "All-natural, no dyes," House said, showing me the plushie. "That''s a good business: all-natural children''s toys. Those toy companies, they don''t arbitrarily mark up their frogs. They don''t lie about how much they spend on research and development," he continued, explaining to me while the woman smiled in agreement. "The worst a toy company can be accused of is making a really boring frog," House joked, pretending to make the baby laugh slightly while the mother laughed too.

    Playing with the baby again for a few seconds, House pretended to remember something. "You know another really good business?" he asked the woman. "Teeny tiny baby coffins, you can get them in frog green or fire engine red, really," he asserted, still playing with the frog and amusing the baby, but surprising the mother, causing her to lose her smile. "Why is it recommended to breastfeed until six months?" House asked me with seriousness.

    "The mother''s antibodies protect the baby for the first six months, after that, they don''t," I responded without hesitation.

    "Correct," said House. "That''s why these companies think they can gouge you," House continued, making the frog toy jump. "They believe that you''ll spend whatever they ask to keep your kid alive," he said this time looking seriously at the surprised woman. "Want to change things? Prove them wrong. If a few hundred parents like you decide they''d rather let their kid die than cough up 40 bucks for a vaccination, believe me, prices will drop REALLY fast," House concluded, his face adorned with a touch of sarcasm, while still playing with the frog and the baby.

    Shocked, the mother couldn''t say a word for a moment, presumably thinking about what House had just told her. "Tell me what she has," she said, now more concerned.

    "So, what does she have?" House straightened up in his seat and turned to me.

    "A cold," I immediately replied.

    Nodding, House handed the toy back to the still stunned woman.

    Probably writing a prescription, he tore a sheet from his pad and handed it to her mother. "Get her vaccines, give her this medicine, and she''ll be fine in a few days," he said apathetically, as the woman got up and left the examination room, thanking him.

    "There you have it, the fourth type," House finally said when the door to the examination room closed. "You''re lucky; she''s a type four, but she was easy to convince," he continued while taking the file and handing it to me. "Take this to the nurse," House finished as he put his feet up on a table and leaned back comfortably.

    Leaving the examination room, I approached the desk where Nurse was filling out forms. "Hello, Dr. House asked me to give you this," I said with a friendly smile as I handed her the file.

    "Oh, yes, very well, thank you very much," the nurse said as she took the papers and checked them. "You must be Amy''s son," she said without turning to look at me.

    "Yes, nice to meet you. I''m PJ Duncan," I replied cordially as I extended my hand for a handshake.

    Staring at my hand for a few seconds with disbelief, she finally took it and smiled. "It''s the first time a person in a lab coat has offered me their hand without feeling forced to do so," she said with a laugh.

    The nurse must have noticed my surprise because she continued, "The doctors here treat us like we''re extras, just in the background. The worst of all is Dr. House," she said, nodding her head in the direction of House''s office.

    "I didn''t know that. Why would they do that?" I asked, surprised.

    "I think it''s an ego problem. They study all those years to become doctors, and they think that people in other healthcare roles don''t deserve their time," the nurse said calmly, with a sad smile.

    "But¡ª" I was about to say when someone else cut my words short by placing a file on the desk.

    "Nurse, I want you to schedule an appointment with this patient for tomorrow at this time," ordered a doctor I had never seen before. "Excuse me," he nodded to me and then went into one of the examination rooms.

    Without saying anything, the Nurse simply smiled ironically and highlighted the doctor''s attitude. "My name is Fryday, but to that doctor, I''m just ''nurse.'' I can assure you he can''t distinguish between us," Nurse Fryday said, irritated, as she wrote the patient''s name in the files.

    I was truly surprised. I had never imagined that the type of treatment a nurse received would be so degrading. My mom used to get annoyed with House, but I thougth that doctors in general only treated paramedics that way because they didn''t take the time to get to know us. But to treat nurses who worked with them every day like this...

    "I''m really sorry you have to go through this treatment, Nurse Fryday. I hope one day they treat you as you deserve," I said sincerely to the nurse. Right now, I couldn''t do much to change things.

    The nurse, who sadly smiled, handed me another file. "I''m glad you see it that way, PJ. I just hope that after you study medicine for all those years, you''ll have the same mindset," Fryday said calmly.

    Taking the papers, I nodded. "I will, I promise," I replied assertively.

    Returning to the office, I handed over the documents, which House took with annoyance.

    A few moments later, the door was knocked again. "Come in," House said, exasperated.

    It was Nurse Fryday once more, with a patient behind her, smiling at the nurse, an action she gladly returned before letting the patient enter and closing the door behind her.

    "Hello," said the patient, obviously suffering from sinusitis.

    "Type one," House said, annoyed in his voice.

    The day continued with House receiving patients and having me perform quick exams that he would later verify. Occasionally, I pretended not to know how to perform a certain test, and to my surprise, House explained, not kindly, but patiently.

    Certainly, House was right; the vast majority of the patients had a simple cold or some minor ailment that they exaggerated in their minds. In general, time passed quickly. After dismissing the last patient, House took his backpack and stretched a bit.

    "Well, it''s time to go, kid," he said as he left the office with the file of the last patient in his hand.

    Following House out of the office, not forgetting to leave the lab coat where it was hanging when we arrived, we walked to the desk where Nurse Fryday was still filling out forms. "Doctor House, checking out at four-fifty-five," House said as he checked his watch and filled out a record.

    From the clinic''s entrance, Doctors Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered briskly in our direction.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    "There''s a problem," Dr. Cameron said quickly.

    "Were there complications in the surgery?" House asked as he walked towards the clinic''s exit.

    "Goodbye, Fryday," I quickly said to the nurse before following House and the three doctors. "Goodbye, PJ," the nurse responded cheerfully.

    "Surgery went fine, he''s in recovery, but we took a vial of CSF and tested it," Foreman clarified as he handed House some data sheets.

    "Really?" Dr. House asked, surprised. "I didn''t know you were into older women, Duncan," House teased when I caught up with them.

    "What are you talking about?" I asked, annoyed.

    "Yeah, Fryday," House continued, emphasizing the name with even more mockery.

    "Haha," I said, faking a laugh, "it''s called being polite," I said under my breath while I greeted the three doctors beside House, who, unsurprisingly, only two of them responded to amiably.

    "It turns out the bowing wasn''t the cause of his problems; it was a symptom," Foreman said apathetically in my presence.

    "Oligoclonal bands*, and an increase of intrathecal IGG*," Chase explained, pointing to the data sheet.

    "Here you go, kid. What diagnosis do you make with this data?" House said, staying still and handing me the sheet.

    "Multiple sclerosis*," I said as I reviewed the data.

    "Yes," House said, turning to face the three doctors, "the reason it takes three of you to tell me this?" he asked, intrigued.

    "Because we''re having a disagreement about whether or not it is MS," Cameron clarified.

    "No lesions on the MRI," Chase said, dismissing Cameron''s argument.

    "It''s early; he''s had the disease for maybe two weeks," Foreman asserted seriously.

    "McDonald criteria* requires six months to make a definitive diagnosis," Cameron argued again.

    "Oh, who cares about McPherson? I hear he tortured kittens," House said sarcastically, obviously mispronouncing the name on purpose.

    "McDonald," Foreman corrected him dryly.

    "Oh, McDonald. Wonderful doctor, loved kittens," House said with false cheerfulness.

    "The VEP* indicates slowing of the brain," Foreman said, ignoring House''s comments.

    "Without the lesions, we can''t be sure," Cameron argued once more.

    "Well, if it is, it''s gone from zero to sixty in three weeks, which would indicate rapidly progressive MS," House said seriously, countering Cameron''s argument. "Not the fun MS with the balloons and the bike rides for cripples in wheelchairs," he continued sarcastically.

    "We should wait until we¡ª" Cameron started to say until House interrupted her, annoyed.

    "Start treating him now," House cut her off abruptly. "He can walk for another couple of years, maybe live for another 5," House continued calmly.

    Looking at the three doctors in front of him, House again had a serious look on his face and said, "Break it to the family. I''m going home."

    Defeated, Dr. Cameron walked in the opposite direction of House.

    "Duncan," House said, stopping, "go with whoever goes with," he finished as he continued walking, disappearing around a corner.

    Turning to the two remaining doctors, I looked expectantly. "Take the kid," Foreman said with exasperation as he walked away.

    "Well," Dr. Chase said, "get ready for one of the hardest parts of being a doctor," he said cryptically as he put his hand on my shoulder.

    This is the second time I''ve heard that phrase today, but now I truly believe that it will be the hardest part of being a doctor.

    "If you feel uncomfortable during the conversation, leave the room quietly. If you feel like crying, don''t do it in front of the family. Always maintain a serious, professional demeanor," Dr. Chase explained as we walked. "We won''t be delivering news of a family member''s death, but giving the diagnosis of a terminal illness is practically the same thing. You might feel like you have to say something, but don''t. You''ll remain silent," Dr. Chase said in the most serious manner I''ve seen from him.

    Reaching one of the hospital rooms, Dr. Chase knocked twice. "Come in," we heard from inside the room.

    Dan, the patient, was with his parents, who looked relieved.

    "Dr. Chase, hello, come in," the man said cheerfully, allowing the doctor to enter.

    As Dr. Chase entered, the family also noticed me in the doorway. "Young man," the man greeted, also allowing me to enter. He must remember me from how easily I was allowed to enter, and not just him because the woman and Dan also noticed me and greeted me cheerfully.

    "When can Dan be discharged? He''s feeling better," the woman said hopefully from the side of her son.

    "I came to talk about that; we found something," Dr. Chase said seriously, causing the family to immediately ignore me, giving their full attention to the doctor.

    "What do you mean, you didn''t remove the blockage?" the man asked, concerned.

    "We did remove any blockage; the surgery was a complete success," Dr. Chase reassured him. "But we did some tests on Dan''s cerebrospinal fluid, and what we found isn''t good," Dr. Chase continued seriously.

    "What is happening?" the desperate woman asked.

    "What''s happening is that the blockages weren''t the cause of Dan''s problems; they were just a symptom. We''ve discovered clear markers for possible multiple sclerosis," Chase explained.

    "Multiple sclerosis?" Dan''s father asked incredulously, looking at his son, who seemed shocked by the news as he was embraced by his mother.

    "It''ll take months for a definitive diagnosis," Chase tried to reassure the family.

    "What''ll happen to me?" Dan finally spoke from his bed.

    "Multiple sclerosis is an incredibly variable disease, if it is multiple sclerosis, and we''re not 100% sure," Dr. Chase explained without really answering the young man''s question.

    "What do you think is going to happen?" the father pressed for answers for his son.

    "There are some medications to manage the symptoms, but as the disease progresses, the problems will become more severe: bowel and bladder dysfunction, loss of cognitive function, pain," Dr. Chase said, trying to make it clear what could happen.

    "Is it going to hurt?" the father asked incredulously and with pain.

    "The brain''s like a big jumble of wires," he said, trying to make the family understand. "Multiple sclerosis strips them of the insulation, and the nerves die. The brain interprets it as pain, but by starting treatment, we''re going to avoid that for as long as possible. We''re looking into a couple of specialists, and until we get you squared away, you''ll stay here. Okay?" he finished, addressing Dan, who ignored the doctor and stared fixedly at his hands.

    "We''ll leave you alone," Dr. Chase said as he left the room.

    I stayed in the room for a few seconds, long enough to see the family huddled tightly with their son in the middle. I could hear the beginning of painful crying before leaving quietly but silently, closing the door behind me.

    "That went better than I expected," Dr. Chase said with relief as he walked. "Some families obviously don''t take this kind of news well. They might blame you for their loved one''s illness or simply hate you for not being able to treat them," he continued walking. "The best you can hope for is this kind of reaction. You need to make it clear to both the families and the patients that you''re doing everything in your power to help them," he finished, smiling at me.

    "I know it can be tough seeing families suffering, but you don''t have to let that drag you down. We do this job to help the people we can help. I''m not saying you should completely ignore those you can''t help; that''s not healthy. Just learn to differentiate between the ones you can save and the ones you can''t," Chase said, putting his hand on my shoulder. After noticing a conflicted expression on my face, his smile faded.

    "If you need to talk about this with someone, you can talk to me or even Cameron. I doubt Foreman will offer any advice, but you can always try," he continued, removing his hand from my shoulder. His expression changed from calm to alarmed, as if he had remembered something. "I don''t think I need to tell you this, but don''t try to discuss it with House. It''s not worth wasting your breath trying to talk to him about this," he finished, turning to walk again.

    In my past life, I had witnessed many people''s deaths. Sometimes we didn''t arrive quickly enough to do anything, or a patient died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Whenever family members were present, my partner would take the lead in dealing with them. It was never my responsibility, but I still witnessed it. Delivering bad news was a completely different feeling, much rawer, much more difficult.

    Watching someone grieve a loss is terrible, but taking away hope is even worse.

    Unconsciously, I continued to follow Dr. Chase down to House''s office, where Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman were present.

    I entered quietly, ignoring the calm conversation among the three doctors, to gather my things. When I had what I needed, I quickly said goodbye to the people present and left without waiting for a response, heading to the reception area where I parted ways with my mom.

    As I walked, I couldn''t stop thinking about Dan''s lack of reaction. He seemed lost in his mind as he stared at his palms. It was terrifying to think that a teenager, no older than me at this moment, had to bear the news that he possibly had an incurable disease, one that would slowly take away his autonomy, his body, his freedom.

    "PJ, are you okay?" my mom suddenly snapped me out of my thoughts. Unconsciously, I had reached the reception area.

    Wiping away any expression that might have been on my face, I forced a smile and said, "Yes, mom, everything''s fine, nothing to worry about."

    Mom seemed skeptical for a moment, studying my face with concern and shaking her head slightly. She seemed about to object, but whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Nurse Florence.

    "Oh, Doctor Duncan," the older nurse said playfully, winking at me, "I heard from Fryday that you were with Dr. House on his clinic shift. How was that?" she asked cheerfully.

    Grateful for the interruption to the awkward moment, I smiled at the opportune nurse. "It was an interesting day. Many patients with colds, a mother who didn''t want to vaccinate her baby, overall, I learned a lot today," I quickly replied.

    "I''m glad to hear that," she affirmed, nodding slightly. "Well, Amy, see you tomorrow," Dr. Florence said, lightly grabbing my mom''s arm after checking the wall clock. "Doctor Duncan," she joked again before heading back the way she came.

    "Well, I''ve packed my things, PJ, so we can go," Mom commented cheerfully, seemingly forgetting our previous interaction.

    With her bag in hand, Mom rejoined me, and we left the hospital together. Apparently unsatisfied with the brief summary I gave to Nurse Florence, she began asking me about each patient that House and I had seen during the day. "So, did House allow you to conduct the exams?" she asked excitedly as she started the car.

    "Yes, he always reviewed afterward, but I usually started with the examination," I confirmed with a slight smile.

    "When you enter medical school, you''ll be the only one who has already worked with patients," she said excitedly. "You''ll be popular," she added, even more excited than before.

    We continued talking about Mom''s day, and several minutes later, we arrived home.

    "Oh, PJ, get ready because we''re having dinner with the Coopers. George was discharged, and Mary invited us for dinner," Mom said as she noticed the Cooper house.

    "Sure," I nodded as I got out of the car.

    Entering the house, I found Bob watching TV from the living room couch, holding a beer. "PJ," he said excitedly as he quickly got up, "let''s go to the garage; I''ve got something to show you," he continued, moving faster than I''d ever seen him move since I arrived in this life.

    Following him through the house to the garage door, which Bob quickly opened, I entered behind him. "I got this at a great price, even though I explained that I had already taken care of the bugs, he wanted to get rid of this," Bob said, showing me a set of gym equipment: barbells, bars, weights, dumbbells, ropes, and even a punching bag were scattered and disorganized in the garage.

    "Isn''t it great?" Bob asked excitedly, showing me the cluttered tools.

    "Yes, it''s great, Dad," I said, leaving my backpack to the side. "We should organize it," I continued as I approached to start moving the equipment.

    "Yeah, I was waiting to see how you wanted to arrange it. After all, it''s primarily yours," Bob said proudly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    I could only say, "Thanks," to start organizing with Bob.

    After organizing all the equipment and hanging the punching bag from the garage ceiling, Bob had a proud look on his face as he pulled me into a one-armed hug, admiring our makeshift home gym.

    "After dinner, we''ll work out. If Gabe wants to join us, he can," Bob said proudly.

    "We''re having dinner with the Coopers tonight; Mr. Cooper was discharged today," I informed Bob.

    "Ah, all right. If we don''t make it tonight, we can start tomorrow after dinner," he said cheerfully, shaking me under his arm. "Well, great job, son," he said as he let go and walked back into the house.

    Following Bob after turning off the garage light and closing the door, I separated from him in the living room and walked to my room.

    In the hallway leading to my room, I came face to face with Teddy, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. "PJ, I''m glad you''re here. Come," she said, dragging me into her room to her desk.

    Taking a seat, Teddy opened her notebook to a math problem. "I can''t solve it," she said, making a pitiful face.

    Amused by her sudden change in behavior, I crouched down beside her and began to explain.

    Teddy was, to say the least, a genius in her own right. I had noticed it during our previous study sessions. She quickly absorbed the explanation of a problem like a sponge, and the next time she encountered a similar one, she could solve it without any trouble. I enjoyed helping her with her homework; it helped me connect with her. Unlike Gabe, I couldn''t get Teddy to play football with me, not that I hadn''t invited her. So, helping her with homework was the natural way to spend time with my teenage sister.

    "I understand now!" she celebrated halfway through my explanation, grabbing the pencil and continuing the problem where I left off.

    Surprised by the sudden theft of my pencil, I could only remain static, aside from a weak, resigned laugh. Teddy continued to solve the problem, completely absorbed.

    Noticing my presence, Teddy frowned slightly. "I''ve got it; you can go," she said calmly, indicating for me to leave her room.

    Incredulous but amused by her attitude, I couldn''t do anything but stand up and, with a weak laugh of resignation, start to leave her room.

    "PJ," Teddy suddenly said when I reached her door. "Yes?" I asked, turning my body, hoping she still needed my help with something.

    "Close the door when you leave," she said without turning, still focused on her task.

    Defeated, I left her room, making sure to close the door behind me, and continued on my way to my room.

    My room was completely silent, which wasn''t surprising since Gabe usually read his comics silently if he wasn''t playing with his toys. Slowly opening the door, I found a very sweaty Gabe asleep in an uncomfortable position.

    Amused again by what was in front of me, I couldn''t help but laugh silently. Leaving my backpack on my desk, I picked up the books and notebooks I needed to do my homework.

    A few minutes after I started, Gabe suddenly woke up.

    "Hey buddy, good morning," I greeted him.

    Still disoriented, Gabe didn''t respond immediately. With his eyes closed and a red mark on his face from his strange sleeping position, he slowly stretched his limbs, making slight noises of effort.

    "Hi PJ, when did you get here?" he asked when he finally noticed my presence after stretching for a moment.

    "A few minutes ago, little guy," I replied with a smile.

    Without saying anything, just nodding, Gabe got up from his bed and walked to the exit of our room, lightly knocking on the door as he opened it and walked out as if he were drunk.

    Shaking my head with a smile, I continued with my homework, which, thanks to my memories and my dedicated study in this life, was quite easy to do.

    When Gabe returned from an obvious trip to the bathroom, more awake than before, my homework was almost done.

    "I think I slept since I got back from school; I was really tired," Gabe said, embarrassed, as he picked up a comic book from his bed.

    "It''s because of the exercise, Gabe. In the beginning, you''ll feel like you have less energy, but you''ll get used to it," I said calmly as I continued with my homework. "That''s why you have to sleep early and eat well, so that the rest of the day after exercising, you''ll have enough energy," I finished.

    "Did you also get tired at first?" Gabe asked.

    Noticing a hint of concern in his voice, I turned my chair to face him. Gabe, from his bed, had a worried look on his face as he stared at me. I remembered what Bob had said: Gabe sees me as a role model.

    "Yes, gremlin, at first, I also got tired. If you keep running with me, there will come a time when this will just be a fun memory," I said with a reassuring smile, which seemed to work.

    Less worried by what his face revealed, Gabe continued reading his comic book, and I, feeling more at ease after reassuring my brother, continued with my homework.

    When I finished my homework, I decided to start reading the book that House had given me. As expected, it was not a more interesting read than Dr. Thomas''s book. It was a text on viral infections. Taking notes as I read, I lost track of time.

    "PJ, Gabe," I heard Mom call from outside our room, snapping me out of my study trance.

    Rubbing my tired eyes a bit, I stretched before getting up.

    Gabe seemed intrigued. "Why do you think Mom''s calling us?" he asked as he followed me, still groggy, before opening the door.

    "We''re having dinner with the Coopers. Mr. Cooper came back today," I explained while tousling his hair.

    "Okay," he replied without much concern, continuing to read his comic book.

    Mom was no longer wearing her nurse''s uniform; she was dressed more casually, along with Bob, who was carrying a package of beers.

    We all left together, heading to the Cooper''s house.

    Mom, who quickly led the way, knocked on the Cooper''s door, which was immediately opened by Meemaw.

    "Ah, it''s the Duncans," she exclaimed inside the house, then turned back to us with a smile. "Amy," she said cheerfully, opening her arms, and Mom received the hug with joy.

    When Mom let go of Meemaw and entered the house, Bob was next to greet her. He simply smiled and said, "Mrs. Tucker."

    Shaking her head, "Oh no, Bob, you too. Call me Connie," Meemaw said, tapping his arm lightly.

    "Now that we have here, the youngest Duncans," Meemaw said, approaching my siblings, "is it my imagination or are you even more beautiful than before?" she continued, pulling Teddy into a hug. "And you, look at you, you''re very handsome," she went on, pinching Gabe''s cheeks.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Tucker," Teddy said, embarrassed.

    "Oh no, not you either. You''re part of the family now. Call me Meemaw, like your brother," Meemaw corrected Teddy cheerfully, addressing Gabe as well. "Well, what are you still doing here? Come in, come in," she said after a moment.

    When my family entered the Cooper house, Meemaw and I stayed behind. "Aces," she said, greeting me, losing her friendly smile.

    "Hello, Meemaw," I replied, a bit nervous.

    Staring at me seriously for a moment, Meemaw finally rolled her eyes in resignation. "All right, I had already forgiven you. After all, my car was in perfect condition," she said as she closed the door.

    Getting me to release the air that I didn''t know I was holding

    "In two weeks, I''m going to Las Vegas, Aces," she said as she stood by the door.

    It seemed Meemaw remembered I wanted to place a bet. "I''ll tell you how much I''m going to bet next week," I quickly said.

    "All right," Meemaw said with resignation. "Well, come on, come on," she continued, guiding me into the house.

    ---

    Glossary

    CSF* = Cerebrospinal fluid is a clear, colorless, watery fluid that flows in and around your brain and spinal cord.

    VEP* = Visual evoked potentials are used to assess the visual conduction pathways through the optic nerves and brain.

    McDonald''s criteria* = The McDonald''s criteria are a set of guidelines used to determine whether or not a person should be considered as having multiple sclerosis, without the need for biopsies.

    Oligoclonal bands* = are bands of immunoglobulins that are seen when a patient''s blood serum, or cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) is analyzed.

    Immunoglobulin G (IGG)* = This is the most common antibody.

    Multiple Sclerosis* =is a long-lasting (chronic) disease of the central nervous system

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    Here ends what would be Chapter 14. As I mentioned before, I had to split the chapter in two.

    Another week goes by, and the goal is not reached again :C.

    In my notes for this story, I have already decided who the main couple will be. There is still some time before we get there, but if someone manages to guess it, I''ll give them a big prize (I won''t explain again that there is absolutely no prize). Here are two clues:

    1. It is not from a medical, firefighter, or police series/movie.

    2. Their series/movie has not been introduced in the story yet.

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 16

    Quickly Meemaw and I reached my family inside the house.

    With hugs, Mom and Mrs. Cooper were loudly greeting each other, while Mr. Cooper and Bob exchanged a friendly handshake.

    "There he is, my quarterback and now my hero," Mr. Cooper said as he approached my side and offered his hand in a firm handshake. "Hello, Mr. Cooper, how are you?" I asked politely as I shook his hand.

    "Well, son, I''m better now" Mr. Cooper replied cheerfully, patting my shoulder lightly. "Thanks to you and your parents," Mr. Cooper continued with a big smile on his face, turning again to Bob and Mom. "I don''t know how to thank you enough, Amy, Bob, really," Mr. Cooper continued to Bob and Mom.

    "You don''t have to thank us, George, I''m sure you would do the same," Bob replied after greeting Mrs. Cooper and placing the beers on the Cooper''s table.

    "Yes, George, you and Mary are our first friends here in Texas, it''s only natural that if you need help, we''ll help you," Mom affirmed with false modesty.

    "And thank God for that, or I don''t know what would have happened," Mrs. Cooper said cheerfully.

    "Well, enough of thanks, the dinner is getting cold," Meemaw interrupted, who hadn''t said anything throughout the exchange.

    "Thank you," Gabe exclaimed, raising his arms, causing Teddy to give him a light tap on the back of his head.

    "You''re right, Mom," Mrs. Cooper said quickly, remembering. "Missy, Shelly, Georgie, come to dinner!" she shouted from one side of the dining table, heading to the kitchen, presumably to bring out dinner.

    "Please, take a seat," Mr. Cooper said quickly, noticing that we were still standing, and he took his seat as well.

    Bob quickly sat across from Mr. Cooper, opened a beer, and passed one to Mr. Cooper.

    The first of the Cooper kids to arrive was Sheldon. "Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, thank you for helping my dad after his heart attack," he said elegantly, strangely smiling at my parents. "Hi PJ, thanks to you too for your help," he continued more naturally as he approached the same spot at the table as last time.

    "You''re welcome, Sheldon," Mom replied cheerfully as she also took a seat at the table.

    "Where''s your sister?" Meemaw asked Sheldon as she took a seat beside him.

    "She was behind me," Sheldon said, looking puzzled and searching the corridor behind me.

    "PJ!" I heard my name being called as two arms squeezed me from behind. "Thanks for saving Dad," I discovered was Missy, still clinging tightly to my body in a big hug.

    Patting her head calmly, I said, "You''re welcome, Missy," managing to make her let go of me to greet my parents with a smile before approaching Teddy, who had already taken a seat beside Mom.

    "Hi, Missy," Gabe cheerfully said from the kids'' table.

    "Hello," she replied superficially, then ignored him and talked to Teddy.

    Seeing how this answer had surprised my brother, with a bit of pity for him, I took a seat next to Meemaw and Bob.

    "Hello," Georgie said, entering the same hallway his siblings had a few moments ago.

    "Hey," I greeted back as we fist-bumped.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, thank you for helping my dad," Georgie quickly said.

    It seemed the Cooper kids were instructed to thank Mom and Bob.

    "You''re welcome," Bob said, patting Georgie on the shoulder.

    Mrs. Cooper returned from the kitchen, carrying a large pot in her arms, and placed it in the center of the table before taking a seat with a big smile.

    Georgie, who now had no place at the table, stood to the side.

    Mrs. Cooper, seeing her eldest son standing, quickly turned to Sheldon. "Shelly, please give your seat to Meemaw so Georgie can sit next to PJ," she said calmly with a smile on her face.

    "But this is my seat," Sheldon said offended at the idea of giving up his place at the table.

    "Listen to your mother," Mr. Cooper said with a forced smile, trying to hide his exasperation.

    "But," Sheldon was saying but was interrupted.

    "I can sit at that table," Teddy quickly said, getting up from his seat.

    "Oh no, honey, that''s not necessary," Mrs. Cooper said quickly, giving quick annoyed glances at her younger son.

    "It''s okay, I''m talking to Missy anyway," Teddy said, trying to reassure Mrs. Cooper.

    "Yes, Teddy can sit with me," Missy said cheerfully, taking Teddy''s arm.

    "Okay," Mrs. Cooper conceded defeat, allowing Georgie to take a seat next to Mom across from me.

    Once again, as the last time we were with the Coopers, Mrs. Cooper instructed her youngest daughter to come closer to pray. Mom, to avoid appearing strange in the neighbors'' house, called her two younger sons as well. Teddy sat right next to Mom, with Gabe followed by Georgie. While the Coopers, along with Meemaw, gave thanks for the food, the Duncans sat silently with open eyes, waiting for their ritual to end.

    "We also want to thank you, God, for placing the Duncans as our neighbors. We thank you for the peace that Amy''s experience in her work brings, Bob''s kindness and excellent driving skills, and also for PJ''s quick thinking and medical knowledge," Mrs. Cooper continued with closed eyes and bowed head. "Amen," she concluded, making her family repeat immediately.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The children, along with Teddy, served themselves food before returning to the smaller table. Dinner continued with the adults discussing their jobs, especially Bob, who, for some reason, piqued Meemaw''s interest with tales of infested places. Georgie, eating defensively as if protecting his food from imaginary threats, occasionally commented on the interesting insects that Bob mentioned.

    Unable to tolerate the conversation about pests any longer, Mrs. Cooper quickly asked, "And at the hospital, Amy, has anything interesting happened?"

    "Oh, not really, well, ever since PJ has been going there, all the nurses seem to adore him," Mom said with a mocking smile.

    "PJ has been going to the hospital, why?" Mrs. Cooper asked, concerned.

    "I didn''t tell you?" Mom asked with obviously false surprise. "It''s not much, just that PJ caught the attention of one of the best doctors at the hospital, and they offered him some free tutoring before starting medical school," Mom continued with a hint of humility that only Bob and I recognized as fake.

    Surprised, Mrs. Cooper smiled and congratulated me.

    "That''s impressive, as long as it doesn''t affect your practices, of course," Mr. Cooper said with a beer in his hand.

    "Yes, one of the conditions was that," Bob agreed with Mr. Cooper, cutting another piece of his meat.

    "Yes, that is good, PJ have you already decided which university you want to attend?" Mr. Cooper asked, intrigued.

    "I''m not entirely sure yet, but I thought, why not aim high, you know?" I lied, putting on a embarrassed face. "Maybe Harvard," I continued, now feeling more embarrassed as everyone except Sheldon at the table stopped their movements to stare at me in surprise.

    "I suppose it''s a good school for studying medicine," Sheldon said with a hint of modesty in his voice

    "Harvard?" Bob asked in surprise.

    "Yeah, I mean, I''m not really sure yet," I lied again, "studying with House ahead of time might look good on my application," I continued, "besides, my grades are very good," I finished.

    "That''s true, after all, PJ is definitely the best student in the school," Sheldon confirmed with pride "after me of course".

    "PJ, a Harvard student," Mom said with an incredulous laugh.

    "Harvard is expensive; you''ll definitely need that sports scholarship," Bob said, taking a nervous sip of his beer.

    "I heard that Harvard''s team is really good in the Ivy League; getting a sports scholarship might not be so easy," Mr. Cooper said seriously.

    "That''s true, you''ll have to practice more and study; if you maintain your grades, you might not even need a sports scholarship," Mom said with concern.

    Seeing how worried Bob and Mom were getting made me feel bad. I couldn''t tell them that if my plans went well, by the time I got to medical school, I''d have enough money not only to pay my tuition but also Teddy''s, Gabe''s, and the upcoming baby''s.

    "There''s still time, don''t worry about it," I said quickly, trying to reassure my parents, and it made them smile appreciatively.

    Noticing that the overall mood at the table had dropped a bit, I quickly said, "Today at the clinic with House, we actually saw a very interesting patient, a seven-month-old baby who hadn''t received her vaccines," I commented to the table in general.

    "Oh my God, really?" Mrs. Cooper said, shocked.

    "Yes, the mother didn''t seem to believe in vaccines, well, actually in the companies that make them," I continued, involuntarily laughing and shaking my head.

    "That happens a lot, especially nowadays, for some reason, parents are losing faith in vaccines," Mom commented, annoyed.*

    "Did you know that the word ''vaccine'' was coined by Louis Pasteur in eighteen eighty-one?" Sheldon said arrogantly, trying to get everyone''s attention.

    "And what happened to the baby?" Georgie asked ignoring Sheldon, surprisingly concerned.

    "Doctor House convinced the mother to vaccinate the baby," I said, making the majority of people at the table sigh with relief.

    Happy to have changed the mood at the table, we all continued with a peaceful dinner.

    Late into the night, after finishing dinner, Bob and Mr. Cooper talked with Georgie about football, while Mom and Mrs. Cooper chatted about something else that I couldn''t hear.

    "Aces, I was wondering, what would have happened if the baby wasn''t vaccinated?" Meemaw suddenly asked, apparently recalling the previous conversation and making everyone at the table stop talking.

    Surprised by the sudden question, I saw everyone at the table staring at me, including Sheldon. When I exchanged glances with Mom silently, she encouraged me to respond.

    "Well, for starters, not having the necessary defenses would put her at greater risk of contracting the disease and, of course, its more severe or fatal forms. She could die from a simple cold, or since her body doesn''t have the necessary defenses, it could become a breeding ground, which could be harmful to the people around her," I easily explained, making Mom swell with pride.

    "So it''s possible she might not have been able to grow up," Meemaw asked sadly.

    "Well, there''s a possibility, yes, but there could be cases where an unvaccinated person leads a relatively normal life, has fun like everyone else, starts a family, and dies of natural causes," I continued. "The good thing is that House managed to convince the mother to vaccinate the baby," I finished with a small sense of achievement.

    "Yes, thank God for Dr. House," Mrs. Cooper said. "Not vaccinating your children," Mrs. Cooper continued, shaking her head in offense, "it''s all part of God''s plan, which is why He sends us doctors who research vaccines," she affirmed to everyone at the table.

    "Having a child without being vaccinated," Meemaw said, also offended. "That''s not why children are born, you know," she continued, lowering her voice, "retarded," she whispered.*

    I couldn''t help it, and a small laugh escaped my lips. "No, Meemaw, that''s not why. While having children without being vaccinated could potentially lead to mutated diseases in the baby, but¡ª" I was saying without thinking until my own words hit me.

    Could it be? No, He''s already been diagnosed with MS, but maybe.

    "What''s going on?" Mom asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

    Noticing that everyone was staring at me intently, I felt a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What was I saying?" I asked the people at the table.

    "You were explaining to Meemaw why her theory was wrong," Sheldon quickly responded.

    "Oh, yeah, sorry, there could be mutated diseases, but it''s very unlikely to cause neurological damage," I finished explaining to Meemaw, still keeping the thought in my head. I''ll definitely have to read more about it.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and certainly not a doctor.

    Here ends another chapter. Despite not feeling uncomfortable while writing this chapter, I can say with regret that it''s one of the ones I liked the least (the finished result). This chapter won''t be edited (I mean, I am not going to change what is written in the for the story, if there is an error I will correct it), but I might post another one during the week to make up for my own feeling of lack of quality. If anyone else feels the same way, I apologize (if I don''t post another one during the week, it''s because I''ll be posting a long one next Sunday; I''ll see).

    A couple of things I want to clarify: As you can see in this chapter, there''s no glossary, but there are some paragraphs with asterisks "*".

    1. Today I discovered that the actress who plays Amy Duncan in "Good Luck Charlie" is anti-vaccine and anti-mask during the COVID times (if you''re one of those people, I have no respect for you). Let''s try to ignore this fact together and continue pretending that the original actress is not that kind of person.

    2. I apologize for using the "R" word. Let''s understand the historical and situational context in which it was used. The Coopers are a conservative family from Texas, and Connie (Meemaw) is an elderly woman. Obviously, I used the word without the intention of offending anyone, and I hope it stays that way. If the use of the word offends anyone, I sincerely apologize.

    This week, I won''t set a goal since the last two haven''t been met. So, for now, I''ve decided to give up on that (if I see that this can change for some reason, I''ll set a goal again next week).

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Leave a comment and a review if you haven''t already.

    Thank you for reading! :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 17

    (This chapter has already been edited, but there may be errors, I will not be able to correct them today, but if you comment on them, as soon as I have access to my computer I will correct them.)

    After clarifying the issues related to unvaccinated people and being born with neurological diseases, the overall mood at the Cooper household dinner table relaxed again, allowing the dinner to continue with relative normality.

    "Well, it''s time for you two to get ready for bed," Mrs. Cooper said after checking the time for her younger children.

    "But Mom, Teddy and I were¡ª" Missy was saying when a yawn of her own interrupted her protest.

    "None of that, young lady. Come on, say goodbye to Teddy and Gabe," Mrs. Cooper scolded from the table while getting up, giving her daughter a stern look to say something more.

    Mrs. Cooper''s stern look had achieved its goal because Missy, with her head hung in defeat, bid Teddy farewell with a tight hug, mirrored by the older girl. "See you at school tomorrow, Gabe," Missy said, parting from Teddy. She quickly left the dining room in annoyance, muttering words under her breath after shouting, "I hate this."

    Her daughter''s behavior didn''t seem to sit well with Mrs. Cooper, as she furrowed her brows and turned angrily toward her younger son, challenging him with her gaze.

    "Well," Sheldon said nervously as he stood up, "it seems it''s time for me to leave. Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, it was a pleasant evening tonight," the child prodigy continued more calmly, "PJ, I''ll see you at school tomorrow," he also bid me farewell with a slight nod, "Gabe, Teddy," he finished, saying goodbye with little enthusiasm, almost ignoring the presence of my siblings.

    "Goodbye, Sheldon," Bob replied somewhat uncomfortable with the situation.

    With the disappearance of their son into one of the corners of the house, Mrs. Cooper, with a snort through her nose, straightened up in her seat, managing to relax as she observed the somewhat awkward looks on everyone at the table.

    It seemed that Mrs. Cooper wanted to say something, but a shout interrupted her. "No, Missy!" Sheldon yelled in annoyance.

    "I''ll go with them," Meemaw quickly said, getting up from the table, trying to escape the now awkward atmosphere. "See you later, Bob, Amy," she continued with a big smile as she bid farewell to my parents. "Aces," she continued, saying goodbye with a small nod.

    Before leaving the dining room, Meemaw also bid farewell to Teddy and Gabe, pinching one''s cheeks and giving the other a small hug.

    Thanks to Meemaw''s farewell, the atmosphere relaxed again, although Mrs. Cooper seemed somewhat embarrassed by her behavior.

    "I understand," Mom said calmly, laughing as she took Mrs. Cooper''s arm, relieving her of the weight she was undoubtedly feeling.

    "I thank God for that too," Mrs. Cooper responded, now smiling.

    "What do you understand?" Georgie asked intrigued, to which Bob and Mr. Cooper chuckled.

    "The challenges of motherhood," Mrs. Cooper replied with a weak sigh of resignation.

    "Oh, I see," Georgie commented, seeming to understand while thinking about something else. "Yeah, I don''t want to have those problems anytime soon, so I won''t be having kids anytime soon," he affirmed confidently, looking at the two women in front of him.

    "Amen to that," Mr. Cooper said, amused, raising his beer for a toast and taking a sip, which prompted Mrs. Cooper to give him a playful punch in the arm as a reprimand.

    "Well, Mary, George, I think it''s time for us to go too," Bob said with a big smile as he got up from the table.

    "Yes, Gabe needs to sleep too," Mom added, also giving my little brother a motherly look, who, still immersed in his comic book, didn''t notice.

    The adults said their goodbyes, thanking for the hospitality and dinner. Teddy and Gabe approached the adults'' table again, waiting their turn to say goodbye to the hosts and express their thanks.

    With a fist bump, which Gabe imitated, Georgie and I said our farewells without a word.

    "I''ll see you later, Teddy," Georgie continued, seemingly attempting to deepen his voice and straightening up to puff up his chest as much as possible. His farewell was met with only a courteous smile and a nod, and I couldn''t help but laugh a little at his clumsy attempt to show off like a peacock, making the teenager embarrassed. I received a light shoulder punch from a blushing and annoyed teenager, who then hastily left, disappearing in the same direction his grandmother and brothers had gone moments earlier.

    After the farewells, the entire Duncan family returned to our house just a few steps away. Following Mom''s orders, Gabe quickly went to the bathroom to prepare for bed, followed by Teddy.

    "Rest well, you two," Mom said tiredly as she headed to her room.

    "Tomorrow, we''ll start with the weights, but rest for now," Bob reminded us of what was in the garage, placing his hand on my shoulder in a parting gesture as he walked behind Mom to their room.

    "Goodnight," I replied to both, also heading to my room.

    Dressing in my pajamas, I prepared for my nightly routine in general. Waiting for Gabe to return from the bathroom to continue, I took the second book that House had left in my care and began reading again.

    All the discussion about unvaccinated people had me thinking. If Dan didn''t have MS, his symptoms could also be related to another equally dangerous but treatable disease if caught in time.

    Turning the pages of the book, I finally found it: Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis*. According to the text, it''s a rare disease of which there have been only a few dozen cases in the United States in the last twenty years, and all the symptoms are similar to MS, so it could easily be confused with it.

    Unfortunately, the diagnosis was already made; Dan had MS.

    "PJ, the bathroom is free," Gabe suddenly said, entering the room.

    "Thanks, buddy," I replied as I closed the book to put it back along with my other things in my backpack, feeling a bit disheartened that I couldn''t do more to help Dan.

    Leaving the room and closing the door behind me so Gabe could get dressed in privacy, I went to the bathroom to finish my nighttime routine.

    Upon returning to my room, Gabe was already under his blankets, ready to sleep.

    "PJ," Gabe said softly as he prepared my bed to lie down.

    "Yes?" I asked without turning to look at him.

    "You''ll wake me up tomorrow, right?" he asked with a surprisingly worried tone.

    "Of course, little man. Why do you ask?" I inquired as I turned to face him.

    "I thought you might not want me to go running with you anymore. I made you go slower than you probably could," Gabe said, embarrassed.

    "Yeah, you made me go a bit slower," I confirmed calmly so he wouldn''t worry more. "Right now, you can''t keep up with my pace, Gabe," I calmly affirmed, lowering my voice to help him relax. "And that''s perfectly fine," I assured him with a big smile as I approached his side of the room. "Buddy, as long as you promise to be consistent with your exercise and give it your all without hurting yourself, I promise to run with you every morning until you can keep up with me. I don''t mind slowing down for now," I finished while offering my fist with a smile.

    "Okay," Gabe said after a moment of thinking, finally fist-bumping me with a slight smile.

    "Great, now go to sleep, Frodo," I said as I returned to my own bed.

    Turning off the table lamps, I closed my eyes to sleep.

    Thanks to getting a proper amount of sleep, I woke up before the alarm went off. With some stretches, I relaxed my tense muscles.

    Taking my workout clothes, I began getting dressed, and when I saw that Gabe was still asleep, I used my pillow as a projectile to wake him up quickly.

    Holding the pillow I had thrown at him a moment ago, Gabe had an incredulous look on his face. "Did you throw this at me?" he asked, still groggy.

    "Me?" I asked, surprised. "No, not at all," I falsely denied, putting on a pained expression as if accused. Turning his head to the top of my bed, he pointed out the obvious absence of a pillow.

    "Come on, no time for silly questions, get ready," I quickly dismissed, snatching my pillow from his hands and shaking his hair.

    "Yeah, yeah, I''m coming," he said irritably as he got up from his bed to dress in the clothes he had prepared the night before.

    When Gabe finished getting ready for our run, we both left the house to start our warm-up. This time, Gabe simply copied my movements.

    "Good morning, PJ," I heard Mrs. Wilson say, accompanied by her husband. "Who''s that young man with you?" she asked immediately afterward.

    "Good morning, Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson," I responded cheerfully to the elderly couple. "This is my brother, Gabe," I continued, gently pushing the boy to introduce himself.

    Seeming to have understood the silent order, Gabe quickly put on a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, I''m Gabe Duncan."

    "What a well-mannered young boy," Mrs. Wilson exclaimed excitedly. "I''m Martha Wilson, and this is my husband, George," Mrs. Wilson continued.

    Mr. Wilson simply nodded at my brother. "Are you accompanying your brother on his run, young man?" Mr. Wilson asked after a moment of assessing the boy.

    "Yes, sir," Gabe quickly responded, intimidated by the stern look from the elderly man.

    "Good, good," Mr. Wilson nodded, still serious. "I hope you learn from your brother the same manners," he continued, pointing at Gabe.

    "Don''t bother the boy," Mrs. Wilson scolded her husband, tapping his arm. "Don''t pay attention to him, dear; he''s just a grumpy old man," she said calmly to my brother with a sweet smile.

    Without saying a word, Gabe simply nodded.

    "Well, kids, we''ll leave you to do your thing," Mrs. Wilson continued kindly. "Have a spectacular day, you two," she said to us as she dragged her husband away, who was still glaring at Gabe in an attempt to intimidate him.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Wilson, see you later," I bid farewell to the kind lady, nodding to Mr. Wilson, who imitated the gesture and continued with his wife.

    "Goodbye," Gabe managed to say after Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had disappeared from our view. "That man hates me," Gabe said with a sigh.

    "No, I think his neighbor bothers him a lot; it must be a kid your age," I explained calmly. "As long as you treat him with respect, you''ll end up on his good side," I said, pushing him to continue. "Although his good side isn''t much better," I continued in a whisper.

    Again, after finishing our warm-up, Gabe and I began our run. Like last time, Gabe slowed down my pace a bit while occasionally trying to run at a much faster pace and quickly getting tired, causing him to slow down again.

    When I noticed that Gabe couldn''t go on anymore, I sent him inside the house and continued on my own for several more minutes.

    After finishing my run, I returned to the house, grabbed the glass of water Mom had already prepared for me, and headed to the now vacant bathroom to take a shower and go through my morning routine.

    Returning to the kitchen after dressing, I found Bob already ready to take me to school.

    Saying goodbye to Mom, Teddy, and Gabe, I followed Bob to his awful yellow truck.

    The drive was mostly silent, with no conversations between Bob and me. All the noise in the car came from the speakers as Bob played music in the background while he drove.

    At the end of one song, the next one began with a guitar solo that Bob seemed to enjoy.

    "Oh, yeah," Bob said as he turned up the volume of the music.

    Indeed, the song had a great rhythm. Seeing Bob enjoying it while driving, I remembered the promise I had made to Gabe. Stretching to reach the radio, I lowered the volume a bit. "Hey," Bob said offended, trying to turn up the volume again.

    Stopping his hand quickly, I said, "No, wait, Dad."

    "What''s wrong?" he asked, withdrawing his hand worriedly.

    "It''s nothing bad, don''t worry," I said quickly, trying to reassure him. "The other day, I talked to Gabe, and he''s really enjoying playing his guitars, but I think it''s necessary for a professional to teach him."

    The clarification seemed to put Bob at ease, but after a moment, he seemed to find something strange in what I had said.

    "His guitars?" he asked seriously as he lowered the volume of the music. Quickly understanding the reason for his doubt, I replied immediately, "Yes, I decided to give him the guitars," I confirmed calmly, waiting for Bob''s reaction.

    Bob remained silent for a few moments as he drove on the road. "Your memory still hasn''t come back, huh, son?" he asked after a moment of silence.

    The question surprised me; I didn''t know how to answer. I didn''t want to lie, but I couldn''t reveal my secret either.

    "I know you said you''re studying medicine for other reasons, but if something is bothering you and that''s why you''ve stopped doing the things you enjoy just to study, you just have to tell me. You don''t have to give away your old stuff because you''re worried," he said calmly.

    "No, it''s not that. I just don''t have an interest in continuing with music," I tried to explain quickly, nervous for some reason. "I really love medicine, helping all those people with House, knowing that someday I''ll be able to save lives," I continued dreamily after regulating my emotions a bit, smiling to reassure Bob.

    "PJ, if you''ve genuinely decided that you no longer want to make music, then I''m okay with it," Bob said, affectionately gripping my forearm. "I just want you to know, no matter if you recover your memories or if you don''t do anything to try, you''re still my son, and I love you no matter what, understand?" he asked as he parked; I hadn''t even noticed that we had already arrived at school.

    Looking into Bob''s eyes for a moment, I could only respond with a simple nod, which made Bob smile. "And of course, we''ll have to find a teacher for your brother. I''ve also heard how he plays," Bob teased playfully, winking. "Now get out of here; you have to go to class," he continued, pushing me gently to get out of the awful truck.

    "See you at dinner," he said as he sped away from the school grounds.

    "Goodbye," I murmured, watching the awful truck drive away.

    Lost in my thoughts, I walked to my locker, nodding without paying much attention to the people who greeted me and passing by the crowd in the hallway.

    When I reached my locker, a moderately strong tap on my arm snapped me out of my thoughts.

    "Then what do you think, Superstar?" said an irritated Brock.

    "Sorry, what?" I asked as I recovered from the surprise.

    "What do you think about the school being so excited for the first game of the season?" he said, opening his arms to the surroundings.

    I hadn''t noticed it before, but several people were hanging posters with the school mascot they looked really excited, "Go Wolves!" a cheerful girl shouted as she passed by Brock.

    "As far as I know, the previous teams constantly lost," Brock said in a hushed voice. "That''s why they chose most of us in the first week of tryouts. The previous team, or at least the people who left the team, were so bad that the newcomers were a better bet," Brock continued proudly. "As long as we do better than last year, everyone at school will love us," he finished, smiling at a group of girls who either ignored him or didn''t notice him at all.

    "I can''t wait, all the parties," Brock said with an imaginative grin. "And the girls," he continued, now lost in fantasy.

    "What girls?" David immediately asked, having arrived from the hallway and being interested in the conversation.

    "All the girls I''m going to meet at the parties we get invited to," Brock said arrogantly.

    "Sure, buddy, as if any woman would notice you when I''m around," David countered, puffing up his chest with pride.

    "Yeah, right, because that''s what you are, a chick magnet," Brock said ironically, with a disgusted look on his face at our friend.

    "At least more than you, yes," David responded immediately, pushing Brock.

    "I don''t think so," Brock said angrily as he pushed David back.

    "Oh, yes, ''buddy,''" David affirmed, pushing Brock back, now also annoyed.

    The two began a silent battle of annoyed glances.

    Watching my friends'' actions, I started to worry. They were beginning to genuinely annoy each other, and I didn''t want them to fight.

    From behind David, I noticed Alan walking towards us, his gaze fixed on David and Brock with intrigue on his face. The moment our eyes met, he tilted his head with a hint of doubt on his face.

    Pointing at our two friends in front of me with his gaze, first at Brock and then at David, he seemed to understand something. He rolled his eyes and nodded, displaying annoyance on his face.

    Quickly taking Brock by the shoulder, I pulled him away. "Brock, do you remember offering me your uncle''s car at a good price? It seems like I might have the money to buy it. What if we go check it out in a few days?" I quickly improvised while taking him out of David''s sight.

    David, who was suddenly surprised by Brock''s disappearance, didn''t notice Alan, who immediately grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards the lockers. "David, buddy, do you remember the magazine I told you about yesterday?" Alan said quickly, causing David to quickly lose concentration.

    "Magazine?" David asked, intrigued, apparently not remembering anything about a magazine.

    "Yes, the magazine," Alan said as if it were obvious. "Oh, sorry, maybe I was talking to someone else," Alan apologized as he turned to his locker as if nothing had happened, leaving David with a puzzled look on his face.

    "Sure, just tell me when you''re available to check out the car, and I''ll introduce you to my uncle," Brock said suddenly excited, forgetting all about his argument with David.

    "Yeah, maybe on Sunday," I said, relieved that the impromptu plan seemed to work.

    "Great," Brock said cheerfully, nodding vigorously.

    The last of our group to arrive was Georgie, who looked upset as he walked toward us, with his brother trailing several steps behind him.

    We all greeted Georgie as he angrily retrieved things from his locker.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked as I watched him pack things into his backpack forcefully.

    "Dad didn''t come to work today because he had a doctor''s appointment," he said through clenched teeth.

    "So?" I asked again.

    "So, he had to come with his genius brother, again" Alan commented as if it were obvious.

    "Yes," Georgie said, pointing at Alan in surprise.

    "Hi, PJ, PJ''s friends," Sheldon, who had caught up to his brother, said. "Could you guys accompany me to our classroom? It''s hard for me to walk alone in the hallways, but it seems like everyone makes space for you," he continued, speaking as oddly as a nine-year-old with the intelligence of a computer does.

    "Yes, of course, Sheldon. We just have to wait for everyone to get their things," I said as I turned to my friends, who were somehow making fun of Georgie.

    "I''m ready," Brock said with a playful smile, taking Georgie into a side hug.

    "Me too," David added, joining in the sideways hug with Georgie and Brock.

    "Alan?" I asked our silent friend, who simply nodded his head and closed his locker.

    Georgie, David, and Brock walked together with Georgie pulling our two friends along quickly, trying to get as far away from his younger brother as possible.

    Watching David and Brock walking and teasing Georgie again, like the friends they were, Alan and I bumped fists without saying anything as we walked, with Sheldon in the middle of us.

    "I can''t wait for today''s classes; I beat you easily yesterday," Sheldon said as we moved forward.

    I said goodbye to a classmate without turning to look at Sheldon, only responding, "Yeah, I was a bit distracted in class yesterday, Sheldon." Turning to the boy, I tried my best to mimic Mr. Wilson''s expression before saying, "But today, I''m going all out, buddy, so get ready."

    Sheldon seemed surprised by the statement. As we reached our first-period classroom, he puffed up his chest as much as possible and tried to deepen his voice, saying, "I''m not afraid of your threats, PJ. I''m prepared," and he ran as fast as I had ever seen him run into the classroom.

    "I think you scared him," Alan teased as he followed the boy inside.

    Laughing at the situation, I followed my friend. Inside the classroom, Sheldon was already seated at the front, with his back completely straight and giving me his best attempt at a challenging look.

    Amused by this, I decided to give a challenging look as well, or at least attempt one.

    I greeted all my classmates I passed by. Many of the girls stopped me for a moment, grabbing my arm just to wish me good morning, while my male classmates extended their fists, eagerly awaiting a greeting that I happily gave.

    The first few periods were interesting. Sheldon, as always, swiftly turned his body with a proud smile when answering a question faster than I did. However, he avoided turning when I did so first.

    As usual, many of my classmates approached me from time to time to help them with their questions. Every day, I turned to the teacher, expecting to see a look of disapproval directed at me, but I only saw very wide smiles as they remained seated at their desks.

    The day passed quickly, and in the end, I left with my friends. As we walked down the school''s main hallway, we ran into Regina and her friends along with the cheerleading team. My friends quickly approached them, except for Alan, who simply walked on naturally.

    "PJ," Regina suddenly said cheerfully as she separated from her friends and gave me a hug, which then turned into her just holding onto my arm while occasionally looking happily at her friends and teammates.

    "Hello, Regina. I didn''t see you in the cafeteria today," I greeted the girl, who once again smelled extremely nice. I had to actively concentrate on other things to avoid getting embarrassed in the middle of the hallway.

    "Yeah, Courteney wanted to have a meeting with all the cheerleaders," she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You know, tomorrow is the big game," she continued while making small hops, still clinging to my arm, which translated to more math problems for me to think about. "Were you looking for me?" she asked, stopping the hopping with a strange smile and pressing even closer to my body.

    "Oh, no, not really," I said without thinking, but it must have been a bad response because Regina lost her smile. I quickly thought of something to say. "But I knew it. I mean, when you guys are there, you really shine," I said with a hesitant smile, waiting for her reaction, which improved a bit but still didn''t match her previous smile. "Especially you?" I said with some doubt.

    The last part seemed to work because Regina gave a big smile and got even closer, pressing her body against my arm even more.

    "Duncan, you forgot your notebook. Thank you very much," Molly''s voice suddenly said, a classmate from the last period. "Oh, thanks, Molly. I hope it helped," I said as I took the notebook from her hands.

    "Yes, it was very helpful," the girl replied as she stood in place for a moment, looking at Regina holding onto my arm. "Well, see you tomorrow in math," she said robotically after a few moments, then walked away.

    "Yeah, goodbye," I responded, surprised by her attitude.

    "So, Molly, huh?" Regina said, letting go of my arm.

    "Yeah, we''re in math class together," I replied with a cheerful smile, still feeling the warmth of her body on my arm and once again thinking of math problems to forget the feeling and the heat in my arm.

    "Well, see you tomorrow, PJ. It looks like I have to go," Regina quickly said as she turned with her friends and teammates.

    "All right, see you tomorrow," I replied with a cheerful smile.

    "You''re in trouble, buddy," Alan suddenly said, returning from talking to Gretchen.

    "What? Why?" I said, surprised by his statement. "I resolved it, didn''t you see?" I asked, scandalized, making my friend just smile.

    A few moments later, our other three friends returned. "If they''re going to cheer us on, we''ll definitely win," David said confidently.

    "Yeah, I''m sure of it. At least I''m going to play my best; I''ll show Karen my skill," Brock said as he flexed his arms.

    "Yeah, I don''t think so, buddy," David said after teasing a bit, with Georgie joining in. "Yeah, after all, she''ll only have eyes for me," Georgie asserted with a proud smile.

    "I don''t think so," Brock said, pushing Georgie a bit. "Yeah, I don''t think so," David also said, giving Georgie a slight push.

    Alan and I exchanged a tired glance and nodded.

    Alan took David and Georgie by their arms, separating them from the argument, while I took Brock and dragged him with me.

    The sudden movement surprised the three teenagers, who were more like monkeys, as we dragged them out of the school.

    Mom, as always, was waiting outside the school in her car with her uniform on. After leaving Brock with a few shoulder punches, I separated from my other friends, who were also leaving with their parents.

    "Hi, PJ, how was your day?" Mom asked as I got into the car.

    "Oh, everything was fine. The school is starting to fill up with posters for tomorrow''s game," I said as I closed the passenger door after getting in.

    "Yeah, that used to happen when I was in high school. The first game of the season is important," Mom said excitedly. "And, of course, we''ll come to cheer you on. Go Wolves!" she shouted out her open window, causing some of the students outside the car to cheer.

    Stolen story; please report.

    "You know, I used to be the most important part of the cheerleading squad back in my high school days, the Whammy mascot," she told me as she drove down the road. The daily trip by Mom, which I had grown accustomed to, was relatively short as she recounted some of her high school memories.

    "And that''s how I got kidnapped by the kids from the southern school," Mom said as she parked in the hospital parking lot.

    "I don''t know if the school has a mascot, but I''ll make sure they don''t kidnap it," I said, chuckling lightly at Mom''s story.

    "Well, it''s important to take care of the mascot; after all, it''s the most essential part of a school''s team," Mom asserted as we entered the hospital doors.

    "Good afternoon, Amy," Nurse Florence greeted from behind the desk, "Doctor Duncan," she said, winking playfully.

    "Hello, Nurse Florence," I said, amused by her attitude.

    After greeting the other nurses, I bid farewell to Mom and headed to House''s office. On the way, I remembered what had dampened my mood until that moment, Dan.

    Entering House''s office, I found him along with the other three doctors, all looking tired with bags under their eyes.

    "Oh, Duncan, fantastic news, guess what," House said ironically upbeat.

    "What''s going on?" I asked as I placed my backpack on one of the shelves.

    "Dan escaped from his room last night," House said with a big sarcastic smile. "But that''s not the best part," he continued when he saw I was about to say something. "He wanted to jump off the roof," he continued, amused, making me lose my balance for a moment. It was a harsh blow to learn that a teenager wanted to commit suicide. "It wasn''t a suicide attempt," House commented, now amused by what was probably my strange reaction.

    "Before you ask, I imagined that''s what you thought because that was my first thought too," House explained, "no, it wasn''t a suicide attempt; he was fully conscious during an episode of hallucinations," he finished, cheerfully looking at me.

    The last part of his clarification hit me like a truck. "So, he doesn''t have MS," I said happily.

    "See, he got it immediately," House said sarcastically to the other doctors who just rolled their eyes. "You''re right, Duncan, we were discussing what else it could be. The latest bet from Dr. Cameron was a sexual proposal attempt. Welcome to the conversation," he said while preparing coffee.

    "I meant maybe he has neurosyphilis," Dr. Cameron quickly said seriously.

    "Heh, nice cover," House commented.

    "Sorry, RPR was negative," Dr. Chase denied the theory.

    "We don''t need a definitive test to confirm this," House said while still preparing coffee.

    "Sure, didn''t need one to confirm MS," Dr. Cameron commented, a bit annoyed.

    "Okay, let''s wait for you to run titers on four thousand viruses while this kid''s brain turns to mush," Dr. House responded sarcastically.

    "So the fact that he doesn''t have MS is, it''s really not good news after all?" Dr. Foreman asked from his seat.

    "Well, it is if it''s neurosyphilis. The likelihood of a false negative on an RPR test, how much is it, Duncan?" House asked, "It must be in your book," he commented lightly.

    "Thirty percent," I replied.

    "Correct, and the likelihood of a 16-year-old having sex, roughly one hundred and twenty percent," he said as he handed a cup of coffee to Dr. Foreman, who thanked him with a nod.

    "I''ll start him on IV penicillin," Dr. Cameron said proudly.

    "We''re not going to wait for that," House denied, moving away from the table again. "The most effective way to deliver the drug is right into his brain via the spine," he said, causing Dr. Foreman to place his cup on the table in disgust.

    "We can''t," he said, raising his voice. "In a cramped space like the brain, increased intracranial pressure from a high-volume drug like penicillin could herniate his brainstem and kill him," he continued, making sure the other doctors in the room understood the seriousness. "No neurologist in his right mind would recommend that," he finished, looking at House with annoyance.

    "Show of hands. Who thinks I''m not in my right mind?" House said ironically, "and who thinks I forgot this fairly basic neurological fact?" he asked again, shaking his head slightly, "who thinks there''s a third option?" seeing that no one said anything, he asked again.

    Dr. Foreman got up from his chair and walked around the room a bit, making a frustrated sound as he passed by me.

    Dr. Chase raised his hand, making everyone turn to look at him, especially me; maybe he was thinking the same thing I was.

    "Very good, what''s the third choice?" House asked.

    "No idea, you just asked if I thought there was one," Dr. Chase said, making all of us lower our heads in disappointment.

    "The patient has a shunt in his brain. There''ll be no increased pressure; we can put as much penicillin into his body as we want," Dr. Foreman suddenly suggested.

    "Excellent, inject him through a lumbar puncture," House accepted.

    I didn''t like the idea; if Dan had Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis, penicillin wouldn''t work. It might even make things worse; it could kill him.

    "Wait," House suddenly said, making everyone look at him intrigued. "Duncan, what were you thinking?" he asked as he approached me.

    "What?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yes, right now, what were you thinking? You arrived at a diagnosis," he said, getting closer and urging me to speak.

    Looking at Dr. Foreman, who was staring at me with annoyance, I hesitated before speaking a word, avoiding his gaze; I finally decided, "Well, I thought about the girl from yesterday," I said, looking into his eyes.

    "Yes," House said ironically, "the stupid mother, right? What about her?" he asked, stepping back.

    "Well, I was thinking, you know, we have that bet," I said, nodding towards Dr. Foreman.

    "Yes, I remember, you too, right, Foreman?" House said ironically.

    "Yes," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed.

    "I was thinking, what if that girl hadn''t received her vaccines, by some stroke of luck, she manages to grow up, has a child, and for some reason, gives it up for adoption," I said, now avoiding the eyes of House with some embarrassment due to so many assumptions, "possibly this child did receive their vaccines, but also a mutated disease that only shows symptoms sixteen years later," I continued, still with my head down, not daring to look at the other doctors, especially Foreman.

    "So, what''s your diagnosis, Duncan?" Dr. House asked seriously.

    "Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis," I said, lifting my head and seeing how surprised the other doctors were, except House, who looked at me with a wide smile. "I knew it was a good idea to have you here," he said excitedly.

    "You can''t believe that, House," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed.

    "It''s almost impossible," House said as he nodded slowly, placing his hand over his chest while smiling. "How many cases are there, Duncan?" he asked, still smiling.

    "Close to twenty cases in the United States," I replied.

    With a mocking laugh, Dr. Foreman said, "Do you really believe that nonsense?" as he approached, increasingly offended.

    "It''s just a diagnostic theory," I quickly tried to defend myself.

    "Don''t speak, kid; the adults are discussing," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed. "We need to give him penicillin," he continued, aggressively approaching a contemplative House.

    After a few moments, House nodded, "Fine, give him penicillin. If it''s Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis, we can see if Duncan was right after a few hours," he said as he walked out of the office. "Let''s go, kid," he finished, heading out.

    "And that''s the difference between a real doctor and a kid who just reads a lot of books," Dr. Foreman said, puffing out his chest.

    I felt humiliated, clenched my fists tightly, and gritted my teeth; Dr. Chase and Dr. Cameron seemed to have noticed because they approached slowly, with some intention to intervene.

    "So, you won''t mind putting your money on the line, oh great doctor," I said after a moment, with anger.

    "What?" Dr. Foreman asked, half amused and half offended. "Please, kid, don''t bother me," he continued as he turned to leave the room.

    "Six hundred dollars," I said, making him turn around with intrigue. "Besides the hundred we had already bet, I still have about six hundred dollars. What do you say, Hippocrates?" I asked, trying to challenge his pride with a sarcastic joke.

    Dr. Foreman quickly turned around, entered the room, and took a few steps closer, "a thousand dollars," he said, raising his voice after calming down a bit.

    Surprised, I shook my head, "I don''t have that money," I said.

    "I don''t care; if you win, you''ll get a thousand dollars. If I win, you leave the hospital," he said, furrowing his brow.

    "What?" I asked, suddenly surprised by his offer.

    "Come on, Foreman, don''t be an idiot," Dr. Cameron said, trying to protect me.

    "Fine, I''m not interested. You think you can make decisions like an adult, you must face the consequences, or keep quiet," he said as he turned to leave.

    Dr. Foreman was about to leave, "Okay!" I said, interrupting him at the doorway before he left. Dodging Chase, I walked a few steps closer to Dr. Foreman. "I accept," I said as I extended my hand.

    "Don''t do this, PJ, it''s not worth it," Chase said, with his hand on my shoulder, trying to change my mind.

    He almost succeeded; I really wasn''t one hundred percent sure of my diagnosis, but it hurt my pride, and honestly, I wasn''t thinking it through, nor did I want to.

    Smiling, Foreman shook my hand firmly, "by the end of the day, I''ll personally escort you out of the hospital," he said, pulling me slightly closer. "Say your goodbyes because today will be the last day we see you here," he said, almost whispering in my ear.

    Taking my hand back, I approached him even closer and said, "I don''t think so. By the end of the day, I''ll have an additional eleven hundred dollars, and you''ll understand the difference between a mediocre doctor and a kid who reads a lot of books." Bumping his shoulder, I quickly left the room; I had never really fought before, and I didn''t want my first time to be with a man who was currently larger than me.

    Turning through the door frame, I quickly left the office to catch up with House, almost stumbling into him because he was waiting, leaning against the wall next to the office.

    With a playful smile on his face, he separated himself from the wall, leaning on his cane as he walked. "I''m not sure if it''s a brave move or a stupid one, kid," he said, shaking his head with amusement.

    "I hope you don''t interfere with the outcome of the bet, House," suddenly said Dr. Foreman, who had just come out of the office at that moment.

    House simply grinned and gave Foreman a playful smile, reaching for his chest before returning to his walk.

    I quickly moved away from House''s office door and followed him down the hallway.

    "Do you think I''m going to lose?" I asked, concerned.

    "I don''t know yet; we''ll see in a few hours. Right now, it''s clinic time," he said with mock enthusiasm as he walked.

    "Why not go and ask the parents now? We can spare Dan the pain," I quickly suggested as I caught up with him.

    "Duncan, I like your theory, but for now, we''ll stick with syphilis. If we ask the parents now, they''ll probably lie. But I''ll tell you this: if you were right, and I didn''t support you, I''ll give you all the money I win from the bets. After all, you backed me up," he said with feigned kindness, tilting slightly like a gentleman.

    We continued down the hallways until we reached the outpatient clinic.

    "Hello, Nurse Fryday," I greeted the nurse with a friendly smile while House grabbed one of the files.

    "Send it," House said, pointing to the file in his hand as he walked into one of the examination rooms.

    "Yes, sir," Nurse Fryday replied, mimicking a soldier. "Hi PJ, how are you?" she asked, changing her expression to a cheerful one.

    "I''m fine, thanks," I replied, slightly lying.

    "Something''s bothering you," the nurse said inquisitively.

    Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, I noticed House in the pharmacy talking to the pharmacist. "Well, the thing is..." I explained to Nurse Fryday about the bet with Foreman silently while pretending to read a file on her desk, and she pretended to fill out some paperwork.

    "That darn doctor, how can he treat you like that? He''ll see, I''ll give him a piece of my mind," she said angrily, slamming the papers she had been pretending to write on down on her desk and standing up.

    "No!" I exclaimed, but I immediately corrected myself, realizing where I was. "No, it''s not necessary, Fryday. Don''t get yourself in trouble because of me," I said quietly, trying to calm her down.

    "You''re the only one who treats us well around here, and now, because of that stick-in-the-mud doctor, you might have to leave," the nurse said, still upset.

    "We don''t know that yet. I think Dr. House trusts my diagnosis, but we have to wait for the tests to be done," I said, managing to calm the nurse down a little more.

    "Ah, yes, Dr. House," she said, sighing with annoyance. "Dr. House!" she exclaimed after a moment, remembering her duties. "Your patient is in there. I''ll send him right in," she urged me to go to the examination room.

    Entering the room, I found House with a magazine over his face, leaning back in a chair. "Have you finished talking to your girlfriend? She''s much older than you, Duncan; she could go to jail for that," he said sarcastically as he straightened up.

    "Ha-ha," I gave a fake laugh at his joke.

    A moment later, the door to the examination room was knocked on. "It''s Juliet," House said ironically. "Come in!" he shouted.

    The door opened with Nurse Fryday on the other side, looking embarrassed. "I''m sorry, Dr. House. Here''s your patient," she said, letting the first patient of the day in and quickly closing the door behind her.

    "To work, Romeo," House said without getting up from his chair.

    "What?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yes, for now, you''re going to conduct the exams. If I think you''re wrong about something, I''ll interrupt, but for now, it''s your job," House said as he handed me the patient''s file.

    As time passed, the first patient turned out to be a pregnant woman who left, albeit surprised by the news, excited about it.

    "That''s strange, they usually leave more annoyed," House remarked when he saw her go.

    "Probably because of her doctor," I mumbled under my breath as I finished filling out the files as House had shown me.

    A few more patients came in, with colds, infections, and one who wanted drugs, a type two, as House called them.

    Reading the last file I took from Nurse Fryday''s desk, I noticed something interesting. "House, look at this," I said as I handed him his file.

    "Is he from Waco?" House asked, surprised after reading the file. "This could be interesting. Have a seat," he continued, and a moment later, the door was knocked on. "Come in!" House called.

    After Nurse Fryday entered, a man walked in with a slight limp.

    "Take a seat," House said, pointing to the examination bed.

    The man approached the bed and, when he saw me sitting in the chair next to it, he nodded and greeted me before sitting down.

    "Now, let me guess, whatever brings you here has to do with your leg, show it to me," House said, pretending to be kind.

    "Okay," the man said after thinking for a moment.

    He stood up again, unbuttoned his pants, lowered them to his ankles, pulled one leg out, and then pulled his pants back up before sitting back down, revealing a wound.

    House looked at it for a moment, made a sound of pain, and said, "It''s infected, with a really big hole, like you stuck a nail in it to relieve the pressure."

    "I wouldn''t do that," the man replied, offended.

    "Although the wound is irregular, not cylindrical, it''s shaped like a triangle, so not a nail," House said as he got closer to the wound. "Steak knife?" he asked, intrigued.

    After thinking for a moment, the man embarrassedly said, "Wife''s nail file," avoiding eye contact with House and me.

    "Type four," House muttered under his breath, leaning towards me.

    "Nail file," he said louder so the man could hear. "Yeah, pain''ll make you do stupid things," House continued as he pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket. "Something to take the edge off?" he asked, offering a pill to the patient, who accepted it, saying, "Yeah."

    "Cheers," House said as he took his pill, an action the man mimicked.

    "So, do you have family here in Medford?" House asked, disguising the question as simple curiosity.

    "No," the man replied immediately.

    "Here on work?" House asked again, this time without trying to disguise the question.

    "No, why are you..." the patient was asking, but House interrupted him.

    "Does your penis hurt?" House quickly asked with seriousness.

    I almost let out a small laugh, but I managed to disguise it with a slight cough.

    "No," the man quickly replied, offended. "What? Should it?" he asked, now concerned.

    "No, just thought I''d toss you a really inappropriate question," House said with a smile. "Your lawyer''s gonna love it," he continued sarcastically.

    "Why would I want to sue you? I want you to treat me," the patient suddenly asked, very offended.

    "You''re from Waco, Texas, right?" House asked ironically.

    "Yes," the irritated patient replied.

    "Now, why would you drive one hour to get treatment for a condition that a sixteen-year-old could diagnose? It''s the free-flowing pus that''s the tip-off," House said, smiling slightly at me.

    "I was in town," the man defended himself.

    "Not for family, not for work," House said, shaking his head. "You drove one hour to a walk-in clinic; you passed two hospitals on the road," House stated, mocking the man. "Now, either you have a problem with those hospitals, or they have a problem with you," he continued his monologue. "My guess is that you''ve sued half the doctors in Waco, and the rest are now refusing to treat you," he asserted, making the man''s face turn serious as he tried not to show any expression. "It''s ironic, isn''t it? It''s like the boy who sued wolf," House laughed at the irony. "You know what? I bet we have a doctor here named Wolfe," he commented sarcastically. "How perfect would that be? I''m gonna page him," he said as he put his hand in his pocket.

    "Okay, you know what?" the man said as he stood up. "Thank you, I''m gonna find a doctor to take care of this," he continued, pointing to his leg.

    "I didn''t say I wouldn''t treat you," House said quickly, preventing the patient from doing anything else. "We''ll drain your knee, run some lab work, fix you right up," House continued excitedly.

    "Why would you do that?" the patient asked, surprised.

    "I''m a people person," House said with false kindness.

    Doing what he told him took a few minutes. House took blood samples from the patient, and he himself showed the way out of the examination room after prescribing some medication.

    "We''re going to eat," House said to Nurse Fryday as he left the filled-out file on the desk along with the lab orders.

    "Alright," Nurse Fryday said as she wrote something down on a piece of paper.

    House left the clinic leaning on his cane. "Come on, Duncan," he said, still walking.

    "See you later, PJ," Nurse Fryday said kindly.

    "Goodbye," I replied as I quickly followed House.

    "Where are we going? The cafeteria is the other way," I said when I caught up with him.

    "We''re not going to the cafeteria just yet," House said as we reached the elevators. "We''re going to find someone," he continued, calling an elevator.

    Exiting the elevator on another floor, we continued walking until we reached another room like the clinic on the previous floor.

    "Oncology?", I asked, looking at the sign on the door.

    "Yep," House nodded, "Wilson!" he shouted from the room''s doorway.

    A doctor in a lab coat a few steps away from us turned his head and greeted House with a nod before bidding farewell to the person he was talking to and approaching us. "Hello, House, you must be PJ, pleased to meet you, James Wilson," the man said, offering his hand, which I shook firmly.

    "Yes, yes, Wilson, Duncan, let''s go eat, I''m starving," House said, turning and walking out of the room.

    Wilson, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at House''s behavior, gestured silently with his hands for us to follow House.

    "Surely a patient will sue me," House said with amusement as he called for the elevator we had taken a few moments ago.

    "What?" Wilson asked, taken by surprise.

    "Yes, he came in for an infection..." House recounted the story while we were in the elevator.

    "You actually treated him?" Wilson asked incredulously as we exited the elevator.

    "All I know is that he sued some doctors. Who am I to assume that they didn''t have it coming to them?" House said, trying to reassure his friend, noticing a woman walking down the hallway in our direction.

    "The cutest little tennis outfit, my God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack," House said when the woman was close enough to hear him, with a mischievous smile.

    The woman, whom House now pretended to have just noticed, simply rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh my, I didn''t see you there, that is so embarrassing," House said with feigned remorse.

    "How''s your hooker doing?" the woman asked, ignoring House''s attitude.

    "Oh, sweet of you to ask. Funny story, she was going to be a hospital administrator but hated having to screw people like that," House said sarcastically.

    "I heard you found her on the roof," the woman responded sarcastically.

    "You have very acute hearing," House said ironically.

    "You notified the parents?" the woman asked, now much more serious.

    "In due course, of course," House affirmed.

    "And is there a paternity bet on the father of the patient?" the woman asked, frowning at House.

    "Doesn''t sound like me," House said, surprised.

    "Well, it does actually, but that doesn''t mean you''re guilty," Wilson said, supporting House.

    I couldn''t help but chuckle a bit; I didn''t know many people who could talk to House like that. Wilson was funny.

    Noticing my presence, the woman looked intrigued and seemed like she wanted to say something, but House quickly interrupted her.

    "You think?" he asked, referring to the bet, positioning himself between her and me.

    "I saw the parents in the lobby; smart money is obviously on the father," the woman said, apparently forgetting my presence behind House.

    "My guy knows a guy who can get you in for a hundred bucks," House leaned in a bit to whisper to the woman.

    "Fine. You tell your guy if I win, you attend the faculty symposium, and you wear a tie," the woman whispered back.

    "And if I win, no clinic hours for a week," House offered as he straightened up.

    "My guy will call your guy," the woman finished as she walked away.

    House, being House, watched the woman''s rear end until she disappeared around a corner.

    "She''s very good at her job," Wilson said, avoiding House''s gaze. "I got you another hundred dollars, kid," House said as he moved away from Wilson and me.

    Wilson and I followed House to the cafeteria, where each of us ordered a sandwich and coffee.

    Wilson was talking to us about one of his patients when House saw Dan''s parents walking toward us.

    "Oh crap," House muttered, "another reason I don''t like meeting patients," he continued, leaning in with Wilson. "If they don''t know what you look like, they can''t yell at you," he added, noticing that the parents were getting closer. "Here we go," he said, taking a sip of his coffee when the parents were only a few steps away.

    "How can you just sit there?" Dan''s mother asked, annoyed, as she placed a coffee cup on the table.

    "If I eat standing up, I spill," House responded ironically.

    "Our son is dying, and you could care less? We''re going through hell; you''re doing nothing?" Dan''s father said, approaching House menacingly, also placing his cup on the table and gripping the edge of it tightly.

    "I''m sorry; you need to vent, I understand," House said in a falsely friendly tone.

    "Don''t be condescending," the father spat out angrily. "You haven''t checked in on him once," he continued, offended.

    Staring at the parents for a moment, House took a deep breath and said, "Blood pressure''s 110/70, the shunt is patent, well-placed in the right lateral ventricle, the EKG shows a normal QRS with deep wave inversions throughout both limb and pericardial leads. LFTs are elevated but only twice the normal range."

    Looking at the parents with a hint of pity, House added, "Go hold his hand," calmly. "Go on; I''ll bus your tray," he finished, pointing at the parents'' cardboard cups. They nodded, embraced each other, and turned to leave, holding hands.

    As soon as Dan''s parents were out of sight, House picked up both cardboard cups with a napkin. "Got any sample bags on you?" House asked, holding the cups.

    "I don''t believe you," Wilson said incredulously. "You''re going to run DNA tests?" he asked, offended with House.

    "Their son is deathly ill. I know it''s terrible, but the fact is, if I don''t keep busy with trivial things like this, I''m afraid I might start to cry," House said, standing up from his chair. "Let''s go, kid, take these to the lab to win the bet," House continued, placing the cups on a tray and grabbing his cane.

    "You''re an ass," Wilson said, offended.

    "Yeah? You want to double the bet?" House asked with a smug smile on his face.

    After a moment of thought, Wilson, who had been staring at the cups, nodded. "Fine, six hundred dollars," House said with a smile as he walked away.

    "I''m starting to regret offering you my share of the winnings, kid. This is the last time; in the next bets, we''ll each keep our own," House said, advancing with the tray and cups in the hand opposite his cane.

    "Next bets?" I asked. "Does that mean you think I''ll beat Dr. Foreman?" I continued, more excited.

    "I don''t think; now I''m more certain. A moment ago, I received a page. Dan didn''t respond well to penicillin. You were right. Now, we just need to hit the liars with evidence," House said with a big smile on his face, reaching a desk with nurses. House asked for sample bags, carefully placed the two cups inside, took a marker from the nurse, and wrote something on each cup.

    "Let''s go, kid," he said as he moved again.

    In a room in front of monitors, Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron were watching screens.

    Faking a cough, House entered the room. "So, what happened?" he asked, leaning on one of the desks.

    "Dan didn''t respond well to the penicillin treatment," Foreman said through clenched teeth, ignoring my presence.

    "Does that mean PJ was right?" Dr. Cameron asked with intrigue.

    "I don''t know yet, that''s why I brought these," House said as he displayed the cups. "Run DNA on these." One of the bags had ''Daddy?'' written on it, and the other had ''Mommy?''.

    "What''s this?" Dr. Cameron asked intrigued as she took the cups from House''s hands.

    "Parents'' coffee cups," House replied casually.

    "I can''t believe you¡ª" Dr. Cameron was saying, but House interrupted her. "I''ve had this conversation once already," he quickly cut her off. "If you''ve got something else to do, do it. Otherwise, do this," House ordered, avoiding any further discussion.

    "I can''t believe you''re doing this just for a bet," Dr. Foreman said.

    "What''s the matter, Foreman, afraid of losing twelve hundred dollars?" House asked teasingly.

    "We still don''t know if the kid was right," Foreman quickly defended himself.

    "So, nothing''s stopping us from going double or nothing, right?" House asked as he approached Dr. Foreman challengingly.

    Annoyed once again, Dr. Foreman nodded. "Fine, but when you lose, don''t come crying to me," Foreman said as he took the cups from Dr. Cameron.

    "I got you another hundred, kid," House said cheerfully.

    "Come on, we still have a few more hours before you have to leave," House said as he left the room. Several steps before reaching House''s office, the patient we had seen a few hours ago approached, carrying some documents.

    "Dr. House," the man greeted, reaching House''s side as he continued to walk.

    "Hey! I was wondering when you''d be back. I certainly didn''t expect you on the same day; only an idiotic lawyer would do something that fast," House said, shaking his head in amusement. "Got some papers for me?" he asked nonchalantly.

    "You''ve caused me considerable mental distress," the man said, clearly unfazed.

    "I certainly hope so," House joked, turning to face the man. "What? Too cheap to have your lawyer serve it for you, or is it more fun this way?" House asked playfully as he took the papers offered by the man.

    "You have gonorrhea," House said seriously.

    "You''re just trying to scare me," the man said, attempting to sound braver than his shaky voice allowed.

    "It''s reportable, you know, a public health issue," House said, lowering his voice to further intimidate the man.

    "I''ll be sure to let my wife know," the man responded, maintaining his facade of fearlessness.

    "Oh, don''t bother yourself; the state will call for you," House said sarcastically. "Look, if you''re clean, I''m sure this will all blow over, no big deal," House said calmly with a friendly smile as he pressed the elevator button. "There''s an easy way to find out; get one of your doctors to run a test," he concluded with a malicious grin.

    The man''s reaction, his quick attempt to retrieve the papers, which House skillfully avoided, caused me to have a small and involuntary fit of laughter, further embarrassing the already ashamed man.

    "Uh-uh, these are mine now," House said, gripping the papers more firmly. "I''ll see you in court," he concluded sarcastically as he stepped into the elevator, with me following behind.

    Upon reaching his office, House placed the papers on his desk as he sat down.

    "How has this learning experience been for you these last few days?" House asked, leaning on his hands on the desk more seriously than I had ever seen him in these few days I''ve known him.

    "Well, I''ve learned a lot, and the books are good," I said as I took a seat in front of him.

    "Yes, books are good, but there are better books elsewhere," House said, relaxing his posture and leaning back in his chair.

    "Yes, I can imagine, but it seems to me that all this experience can help me. I want to go to Harvard, and all of this would look good on my application," I said as I also relaxed my posture. "A recommendation letter from a doctor would also look good," I continued, subtly hinting at my request.

    Upon hearing my request, House simply chuckled a bit and tapped his chest again.

    "I''ve noticed you''ve been touching your chest all day today. Are you feeling okay?" I asked as I stood up.

    House, upon hearing my question, lost his smile and looked at me incredulously. "How old do you think I am?" he asked, offended.

    Before I could respond, the door to House''s office was opened again, and the three doctors who worked under House entered one after the other.

    "From the look on your face, I can deduce that Foreman owes you money," House said with a proud smile. "So, is Duncan right?" House asked, leaning over his desk.

    "None of them is his biological parent," Dr. Chase said, nodding cheerfully and giving me a wide smile.

    "That only proves they were right about the paternity, not the child''s diagnosis," Foreman said, visibly annoyed.

    "True, but if I were you, I''d be withdrawing money from my savings account right now," House said sarcastically as he stood up. "Come on, Duncan, we have some faces to hit with the truth," he continued as he left the room.

    Quickly exiting the office, I followed House through the hospital corridors to the patients'' rooms. In Dan''s room, Dan was sleeping without his parents in sight.

    "If you were concerned parents and found out that the last thing the doctors did to help your child made him worse, what would you do?" House asked to himself.

    "Transfer him to another hospital?" I suggested without thinking.

    "Yes," House confirmed. "Let''s go to Cuddy''s office," House continued, leaving faster than a man with a cane should be walking.

    As we reached the top floor of the hospital, we entered a larger office where we saw Dan''s parents arguing with the woman House had spoken to a few minutes ago.

    "You idiots! You lied to me!" House said, entering the office and surprising everyone present.

    "We didn''t lie about anything," the man said angrily. "You, on the other hand, accused us of molesting our son," he continued, pointing at House.

    "Perfect," the woman, whom I now knew was Cuddy, said incredulously.

    "Can we get off my screw-ups and focus on theirs? Theirs is bigger," House defended himself, pointing at the couple. "You''re not Dan''s parents," he accused them irritably.

    "We are his parents," the woman quickly defended herself, causing House to roll his eyes in annoyance.

    "He was adopted," the man admitted angrily after seeing House''s eye-rolling. "He doesn''t need to know," the man quickly clarified.

    "But I do," House said, raising his voice in anger.

    "Adoption makes him just as much his¡ª" the man was saying until House interrupted him.

    "Listen, when we were taking his medical history, were you confused? Did you think we were looking for a genetic clue to his condition, or did you think we were trying to ascertain who loves him the most in the whole wide world?" House asked with a furrowed brow.

    "How did you find out about this?" Cuddy asked, intrigued.

    "I sampled their DNA," House simply replied.

    "We didn''t give you any DNA," the man said, surprised and frowning.

    "Your coffee cups from the cafeteria," House clarified as if it were obvious.

    "You can''t do that!" Cuddy exclaimed, both surprised and annoyed.

    "Again, why are we getting hung up on what I did?" House said, pretending not to understand the gravity of the situation. "Your medical history is useless," House accused the parents.

    "No, we gave you a detailed history of his biological mother," the man denied, annoyed.

    "Her history: non-smoker, good health, low cholesterol, no blood pressure problems," the woman quickly repeated as if it were something she knew by heart.

    "Dan was adopted two weeks after he was born," the man said, shaking his head angrily. "You have his history," he continued, pointing at House. "There''s nothing you need to know that we didn''t tell you," the man said, increasingly upset.

    Throughout the man''s monologue, House just nodded, turning towards me and smiling at the end.

    "Sounds reasonable," Cuddy said, nodding in agreement. "Well, if you want to transfer your boy, that is your choice, but I still think it''s the wrong¡ª" Cuddy was saying until House interrupted her. "She wasn''t vaccinated, right?" he said seriously.

    "Dan was vaccinated at 6 months," the man replied, not understanding the reason for the question.

    "Do you know why kids get vaccinated at 6 months? Because before that, they are protected by their biological mother''s immune system," House said, walking closer to the couple. "So, was she vaccinated?" he asked again seriously.

    "No," the woman replied this time with shame in her voice. "Is that why Dan is sick?" she asked, holding back tears.

    "Yes, I''m sure," House said, now more calmly.

    "What does my son have, doctor?" asked a very pale and scared father.

    House simply stepped aside and nodded his head, signaling me to speak.

    "Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis," I said quickly. Cuddy, who hadn''t noticed my presence due to all the commotion, looked at me with great doubt on her face. "It''s a progressive neurological disorder of children and young adults that affects the central nervous system; basically, it''s a mutated virus," I finished my explanation.

    "I think this diagnosis is correct. I recommend not transferring Dan now that we know what he has. In a few minutes, Dr. House and his team will tell you how they are going to treat Dan, if you still want to keep him in this hospital," Cuddy said, putting a smile on her face.

    "Yes, we''ll leave Dan here," the man said after a few moments of thinking. After bidding goodbye and thanking the couple left the office.

    When the couple disappeared from our sight, Cuddy lost her friendly smile. "Who the hell is this kid?" she asked angrily.

    Her question caught me off guard. "I thought you discussed it with the hospital director?" I asked House, annoyed.

    "I am the hospital director, and I never heard anything about a child attending to patients'' families. What do you think you''re doing, House?" she said, furrowing her brow.

    "He''s an interesting kid¡ª" House was saying, but Cuddy interrupted him. "Interesting?! Interesting?" she asked, shouting, "That''s what you have to say, an interesting kid?" the hospital director asked angrily.

    "It was his idea," House said, trying to find a solution to Cuddy''s annoyance.

    "His idea? What, talking to the parents?" the surprised woman asked.

    "No, not at all. It was entirely his diagnosis, Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis. He discovered it. That''s what I mean when I say he''s interesting," House said.

    "So, he''s a genius kid. That doesn''t mean we''re going to put¡ª" the furious woman was saying until House interrupted her. "Read this," he said as he handed her a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his chest, "a few days ago, I show him about some research from my former professor, Donnald Thomas. He studied data that would take a recent graduate days to understand and when he came back the next day, he sent the professor a letter. This is what the professor wrote in response," he continued, urging her to read the letter.

    "You read my correspondence?" I asked, both surprised and annoyed.

    "It''s for you, but it''s addressed to me," House said, dismissing my objections.

    Still upset, Cuddy began to read the letter, gradually changing her expression.

    "I think that research will win the Nobel Prize this year," House said, leaning back in his chair.

    "But here it says¡ª" Cuddy was saying until House interrupted her again. "I know what it says, but I don''t think he will go," House said confidently.

    "Alright, but I''ll set some limits," Cuddy said, handing the letter back to House and leaning over her desk. "He won''t have the right to prescribe anything or have access to medications in general. He can use the equipment, but only if someone is supervising him. If he wants to make diagnoses, that''s fine with me, but only if you make sure it makes sense, and we also need a letter from his guardian," the woman continued, clasping her hands in front of her face. "Do you understand, House?" she asked seriously.

    "Yes," House nodded with a smile.

    "And you''ll have to do more clinic hours per week," Cuddy added, wiping the smile off House''s face.

    Extending her hand to me, "Nice to meet you, PJ Duncan. My name is Lisa Cuddy. If you need anything from this hospital for your research, you''ll have to come and ask me, not House, not anyone else, just me. If House bothers you in any way, come to me. Are we clear?" she asked authoritatively, shaking her hand and nodding slowly.

    "Very well, then welcome to the hospital. I''ll make sure to get you a credential for tomorrow," she said after shaking my hand.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    As promised last week, this chapter is long, almost 11.5k words of pure storytelling.

    Now, a few things I''d like to clarify:

    1. If anyone is bothered by how things played out for the MC to obtain the money, I apologize. I believe I did well in portraying the personalities of Dr. Foreman and Dr. House, reacting to how the MC acts. In the series, Foreman, in my opinion, has an ego problem, which I used to push the MC to bet more.

    2. The MC''s behavior may not seem like that of an adult, but it''s something I''m trying. Since the first date with Regina, the MC has been acting more and more like a teenager. It may not be explicitly mentioned in the story (or maybe it will be), but as I see it, it''s as if PJ''s teenage body subconsciously affects the actions of an adult mind.

    3. The penicillin in this chapter, I''m not sure if what I claimed is true, but as I mentioned at the beginning of this section, I''m not a doctor.

    4. I researched, and it turns out that a DNA test takes much longer than a few minutes, but let''s all together ignore this insignificant (not at all insignificant) detail and continue as if nothing strange is happening.

    5. I want to remind those who read the note from several chapters ago and inform those who didn''t: Regina is definitely not the final choice for the MC''s partner, as specified in the novel''s synopsis. There won''t be a harem, but that doesn''t prevent the MC, like anyone in the real world, from having more than one girlfriend in their life. I want the MC to experience life and thereby grow to be more "complete." I don''t know, I want character development (dreams that might work).

    What do you think the letter says?????? (It''s easy to guess; I''ll read theories :D).

    It''s almost time for the game; I''m nervous. I still don''t know how it''s going to turn out. Writing a fight scene or a sports scene seems very difficult to me. I''ve been researching other works to get an idea, but it still seems like the hardest part of this novel so far. What am I going to do with this novel?

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading :D.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 18

    After shaking my hand with a friendly smile, Director Cuddy lost all her kindness when addressing House. "You can''t order a three-thousand-two-hundred-dollar DNA test to win a bet," she told the doctor with a furrowed brow.

    "It''s not an actual cost," House said sarcastically. "I don''t know if you know this, but the hospital actually owns the sequencing machine," he continued ironically while leaning in towards Director Cuddy.

    "We have our own Thermocycler," House told me strangely proud about that fact.

    "Yes, we do," Cuddy said with a smile directed at me. "But I''m serious," the director said, clearly irritated with House.

    "Well, tell the parents to submit the bill to insurance," House offered easily, joking.

    "Insurance is not going to pay for a bet," Director Cuddy immediately denied, unamused by the situation.

    "It should," House said, completely confident in his assertion. "If we don''t make that bet, the kid dies," he continued cryptically. "If not for the paternity bet, I never would have taken their DNA. Without their DNA, we never would have trusted the child''s diagnosis," House went on, tilting his head towards me. "You just don''t want to pay your end," House said as he stood up. "Big mistake," he smiled triumphantly. "My guy knows a guy," he whispered as if sharing a secret.

    Seeing that Director Cuddy didn''t say anything after his last monologue, House, with a triumphal smile on his face, turned to leave the room, silently signaling me to follow him. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have a patient to treat," House said when we reached the office door.

    "Fine," Director Cuddy said abruptly, causing House to stop under the doorframe. "I will let you out of clinic duty for one week after you pay the three-thousand-two-hundred dollars for the PCR test," Director Cuddy continued, smiling, having successfully wiped the triumphant smile off House''s face.

    Turning slowly with me, House said with an annoyed smile, "Now, kid, if I hadn''t given you my word, I''d have the hundred dollars Cuddy owes me, the hundred I won from Cameron, the three hundred I snatched from Foreman, and the six hundred I got from Wilson." After thinking for a moment, he added, "That''s what you get in this hospital: you learn medicine through practice and earn money you don''t have to declare. Here you only win," he finished, winking strangely.

    "I hope you''re not involving minors in bets with patients," Cuddy said, pretending not to have heard what House had just said.

    "Bets?" House asked, surprised, while shaking his head with a false look of innocence. "Speaking of teenagers, that reminds me, my patient is one," he continued, pretending to connect the dots as he calmly left the office.

    Feeling uncomfortable with my sudden solitude with the hospital director, I could only smile and nod in farewell, preparing to walk behind House.

    "Wait, Mr. Duncan," the woman suddenly said, making me stop. "I think this belongs to you," she continued, pretending to pick something up from her desk and walking briskly over to me. "It must have fallen on my desk," she said with a casual smile while extending her hand with a closed fist, expecting me to offer my palm, which I quickly did. "I don''t know what House would do if we let him collect this later," she whispered while placing something in my hand and gently pushing me out of her office.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    "Again, allow me to welcome you to the hospital, Mr. Duncan," Director Cuddy said with a warm smile as she closed the door to her office in my face.

    "Thank you," I said, puzzled at the solid wooden door.

    "Duncan, the elevator is here," House suddenly yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

    Reaching House in the elevator, I couldn''t help but think about what had just happened in the director''s office.

    "What do you have in your hand?" House asked, staring fixedly at the closed elevator door.

    Opening my hand, which I hadn''t realized was tightly closed until then, I found a now very crumpled hundred-dollar bill.

    "Ah," House sighed in disappointment. "She''s really good at her job," he continued with a smug smile as he shook his head.

    "Wait," I said, annoyed, remembering an important part of what had happened in that office. "What does the letter say?" I asked, offended. "No, forget that; give me the letter," I said, extending my hand, silently urging the doctor with a furrowed brow.

    Staring at me for a few seconds, House began searching his coat until the elevator doors opened.

    On the other side of the elevator door were Doctors Foreman, Chase, and Cameron.

    "Hey, what a surprise to find you guys here," House said with excessive surprise, spreading his arms to the other three doctors but not taking the letter from his coat.

    "You asked us to come here," Cameron quickly responded, puzzled.

    "Who said what doesn''t matter now," House said, dismissing the comment as he walked quickly, prompting Dr. Cameron, and therefore the other two doctors, to follow. "actually," he stopped for a moment, smiling broadly at Dr. Foreman, "I think there are a few outstanding bets."

    Rolling his eyes resignedly, Foreman took out his wallet. "Three hundred dollars," he said, handing three bills to Dr. House, who slowly examined each bill separately.

    Dr. Cameron, also taking out her wallet, handed a single hundred-dollar bill to the doctor.

    Accepting the bill, House smiled petulantly as he reached for his wallet.

    Clearing my throat loudly, I stopped House from taking out his wallet.

    Still in place, House, who apparently had decided to ignore my presence there, slowly turned his entire body with a furrowed brow, gripping the small stack of bills tightly in his hand.

    "I''m telling you, kid, in this hospital, all you do is win," House said as he reluctantly handed me the money.

    "Thank you," I said with a big smile.

    Losing my smile and now staring intently at Dr. Foreman, who had an even worse expression on his face, Dr. Foreman, who had stashed his wallet at some point during the conversation, begrudgingly retrieved two more hundred-dollar bills from it, much more laboriously than it had taken House to hand me his winnings. Dr. Foreman forcefully dropped the two hundred dollars into my hand.

    "As I recall, it was twelve hundred dollars, Doctor," I said, emphasizing his profession.

    My comment seemed to take everyone by surprise, as aside from House, who only had a falsely proud smile, there was an expression of disbelief shared by the doctors present.

    A few seconds later, forgetting his disbelief, Dr. Foreman began to get angry. "What did you say?" he asked, half-shouting as he took a step forward, dangerously closing in on me.

    "Do I have to remind you?" I asked, also approaching the enraged doctor, even though I had never fought before and wasn''t really sure if I could win one-on-one against the larger man. I tried to keep the doubt from showing on my face.

    "Come on, kids, separate," House said after a few moments, slightly pulling Dr. Foreman away with his cane.

    "I told you not to get involved in the¡ª" Dr. Foreman was saying again.

    "You lost," House interrupted him seriously.

    "What?" Dr. Foreman asked, surprised. "We know they''re not the biological parents, but that doesn''t mean¡ª"

    "The biological mother wasn''t vaccinated, Foreman. You lost," House said, slowly losing his seriousness and replacing it with an ironic smile.

    Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, Dr. Foreman nodded.

    "Not bad for a mere kid who''s read a lot of books, huh?" I said to the defeated doctor.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    In the previous chapter, I was recommended to upload shorter chapters more regularly. This chapter will be a test for that. If I like the results, I might divide the chapters I write to upload them on three different dates each week.

    Tomorrow, there will be another chapter.

    I think that''s all for now. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 19

    Note before the chapter:

    Sorry for the late upload; the power went out in the afternoon, and I had to leave the house. I only returned recently.

    ---

    It seemed like Dr. Foreman wanted to say something, but after a few moments of tightly closing his mouth and biting his lips in annoyance while avoiding direct eye contact with me, he said, "Well, I''ll have the thousand dollars tomorrow," and continued walking somewhat defeated.

    "Friday, I won''t be coming tomorrow," I said seriously, causing Foreman to stop for a moment. Without saying anything, he nodded and continued walking quickly.

    With a friendly pat on the shoulder, Dr. Chase smiled and nodded, "Well done," he said under his breath as we moved forward. "You won''t be coming tomorrow?" Dr. Cameron asked suddenly, intrigued.

    "No, tomorrow is the first game of the season," I replied calmly as we walked.

    "Oh, surprisingly, you''re into sports," House said, walking slowly. "I didn''t see that coming; I thought you''d be a bookworm," he continued sarcastically.

    "Not at all, it doesn''t seem strange to me; you''re tall and look fit," Dr. Cameron said kindly.

    "Watch out, Cameron, Duncan has a reputation for being attracted to older women," House teased. "Besides, if you want him, you''ll have to win him over from the outpatient clinic nurse," he continued, leaning slightly with a smile.

    Ignoring the first part of the joke, Dr. Cameron and Chase both smiled strangely at the comment.

    Rolling my eyes, irritated by the constant teasing, I said, "Again, House, it''s called being nice to nurses; you should try it sometime."

    "Yeah, medical workers in a hospital are important too, blah blah," House said, feigning irritation.

    Refusing to continue the discussion, I stayed silent.

    A moment later, we reached the office, entering behind Dr. Foreman, who was walking ahead faster than the rest of us.

    "So," House said when he entered, going to his desk, "Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis," he continued slowly, sitting in his chair and getting comfortable while staring at Dr. Foreman intently.

    "I suppose you could make an argument that the kid''s still in stage one," Dr. Foreman said, still defeated. "Once SSPE moves to stage two," he continued, but Dr. House interrupted him. "Boom!" he shouted, hitting his desk. "Stage two is universally fatal," he cryptically concluded.

    "I assume it''s impossible to tell when he might move into stage two," Dr. Cameron asked inquisitively as she took her seat.

    "Kid," House said, urging me to respond as I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

    "He''s already started showing symptoms," I said disheartened.

    "So it could be a month or tonight," House commented sarcastically.

    "Can we treat it?" Dr. Cameron surprisingly asked me expectantly.

    I didn''t really know the answer.

    "Intraventricular interferon*?" I said, unsure, turning to Dr. House for guidance.

    "I don''t know; let''s ask the neurologist," House said, shaking his head with amusement.

    "Yes," Dr. Foreman finally replied after a moment.

    "We''re not gonna shove a spike into his brain and drip interferon without confirming this diagnosis," Dr. Cameron objected.

    "After all we''ve been through, you still don''t trust the kid''s diagnosis?" House said ironically.

    "It¡äs ok we need to confirm it," I quickly said, avoiding embarrassment for Dr. Cameron.

    "We won''t get a reliable result for measles antibodies in his CSF, not after everything we''ve given him," Dr. Foreman surprisingly directed to me.

    "So the wrong treatment kills any hope of the right diagnosis," House leaned on his desk. "Why do people lie to me?" he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It could also kill him," he added, nodding to Dr. Cameron. "Your call, Foreman; tell me I don''t have to biopsy his brain," he continued after a moment of contemplation, making everyone in the office focus on him.

    Dr. Cameron''s question made me seriously ponder the issue. Doing a brain biopsy after everything Dan had gone through and endured could certainly affect him, even lead to his death.

    "Well, there is one other way," Foreman finally said.

    "A retinal biopsy," I blurted out, coming up with a solution as soon as Dr. Foreman spoke.

    "Yes," Dr. Foreman replied, pursing his lips.

    "Alright, do that," Dr. House said, nodding seriously.

    Chase offered me a fist bump with a big smile before leaving with Foreman.

    "See you on Friday, PJ," Dr. Cameron said with a friendly smile as she followed the other two doctors out.

    Remaining silent next to House, I grabbed my backpack a few steps from the chair I was sitting in. With the backpack on my lap and staring at House, who returned my gaze calmly, he straightened up in his chair, reached into his coat, and said, "Your presence here doesn''t displease me," sarcastically leaning slightly over the desk with the folded letter in his hands. "But it''s entirely up to you," he continued seriously, handing me the letter. "Read it when you leave; I don''t want your tears to mess it up," he said sarcastically, walking out of the office after handing over the letter.

    Taking the letter tightly in my hands, I couldn''t muster the courage to open and read its contents. If this was what I thought it was from Dr. Donnall, it was undoubtedly another significant step in my medical career.

    Unable to decide quickly, I carefully placed the letter inside the book House had lent me to prevent it from creasing, and quickly left the office to rejoin Mom.

    As we reached the reception area, where I had parted ways with Mom a few hours ago, I greeted the nurses again.

    "PJ," Mom suddenly said, coming out of a door a few steps from the reception area, "Is it time to go?" she asked, looking at the large clock on the desk. "Look at the time, Florence; I''m leaving. See you on Friday," Mom said as she bid farewell to the senior nurse, who was also behind her with some documents in her hands.

    "Yes, see you on Friday, Amy," the nurse replied, nodding after glancing at the same large clock that Mom had consulted moments ago.

    "Good luck at your game, Dr. Duncan," the nurse continued, cheered on by the other nurses behind the desk, giving me gentle taps on the arm with the palm of her hand, wearing a big smile.

    "Go Wolfs!" Mom suddenly exclaimed, excitedly raising her hands and smiling at her co-workers because they also joined in the celebration, except for the senior nurse, causing the people in the waiting room to be surprised and turn their heads, intrigued by all the commotion.

    Thanking the kind nurses, I quickly left, feeling a bit embarrassed, urging Mom to walk with me.

    "So, are you taking the day off tomorrow?" I asked Mom as we left the hospital and headed to the parking lot.

    "Yes, I told you; I wouldn''t miss your first game for anything," Mom said with a big smile, taking small hops as she walked.

    Amused by her childlike attitude, I couldn''t say anything as we made our way to the car.

    Inside the car, Mom began to tell me about her day as we drove home. Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, we were entering the front yard to park Mom''s car.

    "So, I told him, ''Sir, your father was discharged several days ago; you should have a better relationship with him so this doesn''t happen again,''" Mom said, finishing a story about her day as we got out of the car.

    "Well, dinner will be ready in a few hours, PJ; you can do your homework in the meantime," Mom said after we entered the house.

    Separating in one of the hallways of the house, I continued to my room. A few steps from my bedroom door, I almost stumbled into Bob, who came out of the bathroom drying his wet hands, hopefully from washing them, without paying attention to where he was going. "Oh," Bob said, surprised, "son!" he continued excitedly, lightly tapping my shoulder and playfully assuming a fighting position. "Hello, Dad," I greeted him with a smile, joining in his game.

    "Remember that after dinner tonight, we''re going to the Iron Sanctuary," he said, exaggerating the flexing of his arms.

    "Iron Sanctuary?" I asked, amused by the name.

    "Yeah, I mean, if it''s not that, then what is it?" Bob asked again, flexing his arms exaggeratedly.

    "Okay, Heracles, don''t hurt yourself," I said, lightly tapping his shoulder, causing him to release the built-up air from flexing. "We can call the garage the Iron Sanctuary if you want, but don''t give yourself tendinitis* before lifting weights," I continued playfully with the older man who pretended not to feel embarrassed while puffing out his chest.

    "I don''t know what that is, but it''s not going to happen; like I said, these muscles are made of steel," he commented, exaggerating while winking proudly. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have a magazine with my name on it in the living room," he said, puffing out his chest and walking away with exaggerated pride.

    Chuckling amusedly at Bob''s strangely similar childlike behavior to Mom''s, I continued on my way, passing by Teddy''s door. As usual, she had music playing, not loud enough to be annoying but enough to seep through under the door. Knocking loudly on her door so she could hear over the speakers, I waited a moment until Teddy yelled her permission for me to enter.

    I opened the door and said, "Hello, little sis-," immediately stopping in surprise when I not only found Teddy inside her room but also three other girls, along with a pile of magazines and makeup on her bed. One of them, whom I already knew, was Missy. With a big smile, she asked, "Hi PJ, do you like my hair?" excitedly showing her hair styled and decorated with small figures and stickers.

    "Hello, Missy. Yes, I really like your hair," I replied, smiling at the little girl who was smiling with happiness on the bed.

    "Hi, PJ," Teddy said, smiling as she reached to lower the volume of her music. "These are my friends, Baja and Bianca," she said, introducing the other two girls present.

    "Hello," I greeted the slightly embarrassed teenagers.

    "I know you," the second girl introduced suddenly exclaimed, "Well, not really, obviously not," she quickly corrected herself, blushing at her sudden excitement. "I just know of you," she tried to explain, avoiding everyone''s gaze, especially Missy and Teddy, who were teasing her. "My sister says you''re the best student in her year and that you''re also the quarterback," she quickly finished, looking even redder now.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Your sister?" I asked to the embarrassed teenager.

    Grateful to find an escape from the teasing, she quickly cleared her throat and adjusted herself on the bed. "Yes, she''s your classmate at Medford High. You might not know her, at least she says so," she said quickly.

    Nodding in understanding, I asked, "What''s your sister''s name? Maybe I do know her," to the now calmer teenager.

    "Katherina Stratford. She''s in the same year as you, but she''s in different classes," the girl said with strange excitement.

    "Yeah, I definitely don''t know her, but I''ll look for her tomorrow to thank her. I study a lot, and I''m glad people think highly of me," I said with a friendly smile to the now very happy teenager.

    "Well, it was nice to meet you, Baja, Bianca," I said, nodding to the two girls, receiving cheerful acknowledgment from both. "See you later, Missy," I continued, bidding farewell to the younger girl.

    "See you tomorrow, PJ. I''ll be in the stands cheering for you," Missy said excitedly with a big smile.

    "Thanks, Missy. Knowing that, we''ll definitely win," I said, winking at the little girl with a friendly smile.

    "I won''t bother you anymore," I said as I left my sister''s room and closed the door. A moment after closing the door, I heard a muffled scream followed by laughter from inside the room, and the music returned immediately.

    It was good to see Teddy making friends here; I hope this helps her get over the sadness of leaving her friend from Colorado.

    When I opened the door to my room, I found it completely empty. Gabe was nowhere to be seen. It seemed strange for a moment, but thinking it was better than finding him completely exhausted and asleep, I decided to start my homework.

    Several minutes later, after finishing my assignments, I carefully put my notebooks away, making sure not to bend the corners of the covers. I then noticed the book House had left in my possession and remembered the letter I had placed there earlier that day.

    Feeling my heart rate rise, I slowly took the book out of my backpack and opened it, where the folded white sheet protruded. Taking the letter with both hands, I found it difficult once again to summon the courage to open it, so I just stared at it intently for a while.

    After a few minutes of contemplating the blank page, marred only by small grooves probably made from writing on the other side, I decided to open it. Slowly, I grasped one corner of the paper, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart. "PJ!" Gabe suddenly yelled, causing me to drop the letter back onto my desk in surprise.

    "What''s going on?" I asked nervously, quickly turning to see my younger brother, who appeared happy but sweaty.

    "I knew you''d arrived," he said excitedly, approaching me with a flushed face. "Let''s play. I met some kids a few streets down," he continued, pulling my arm.

    "Alright, alright, don''t pull me. I''m coming," I said as I was dragged along by my younger brother.

    In the living room of the house, easily more than ten kids were gathered around Bob in what seemed like a staring contest. None of the several children moved, while Bob, who looked nervous, simply stood there, shifting his gaze like a child every few seconds.

    "Let''s go!" Gabe exclaimed excitedly, quickly exiting the house followed by the small army of kids, all of whom were no older than him.

    With a sigh of relief, Bob shook his head and reopened the magazine he had in his hands.

    Laughing at the scene, I left the house to find a bunch of kids talking loudly among themselves, bicycles scattered all over the front yard. In the center of all the kids was Gabe, chatting happily with the others. "That''s my brother, PJ," Gabe said, noticing that I had come out of the house with them. "He''s cool, and he can run really fast," he continued, showing off, especially to a little boy next to him.

    After Gabe''s declarations, all the present kids stared at me, trying to judge his claims for themselves.

    "Alright, what were you guys playing?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous with all the expectant eyes on me.

    "We were riding bikes, but I saw Mom''s car, so I thought you''d arrived," Gabe explained quickly. "We can play football or baseball or whatever," he said, getting more excited.

    Approaching the gathered kids, I nodded, "Sure, let''s play whatever you want," I said, patting the head of one of the younger kids there, whose ears, surprisingly, were quite large.

    "Your brother is way cooler than mine," the quiet boy with big ears calmly affirmed, making Gabe puff up with pride.

    Seeing so many kids gathered made me remember my past life before Dad''s death, playing with other kids outside the house, how fun it was just to run around chasing other kids, riding bikes, or playing ball.

    Seeing my younger brother''s joyful face, I decided to play one of those many games. Touching the shoulder of one of the kids present, I said slowly, "Tag, you''re it." The noisy kids around suddenly fell silent, and no one moved until a moment later when they all started running, screaming, and laughing.

    The tag passed from one kid to another; all of them ran, with the older kids who didn''t seem much older than Gabe occasionally slowing down so the younger ones could catch up. Not once did any of the kids manage to touch me.

    I agilely dodged them, evading their hands. Several minutes later, some of the older kids gathered and began discussing something in secret.

    Gabe, who had stopped to let the little boy with big ears catch up, grinned wickedly and began following me. We passed by the smaller, stationary kids, but Gabe ignored them and kept following me, making the other kids laugh as they followed suit. We ran back into our front yard, where I pretended to be cornered, waiting for Gabe to approach so I could swiftly evade him again.

    "Now!" Gabe suddenly shouted, and as one, all the kids began running towards me, screaming and laughing hysterically.

    I managed to avoid a few of them, but when their number far exceeded my ability to dodge, they started clinging to me with force. At some point, they managed to bring me down, and a pile of kids climbed over my fallen body.

    I could move; my strength was certainly enough to push them off, but I had no intention of doing so.

    "We defeated you," the boy with big ears said seriously.

    Slowly, Gabe approached the human mound of kids, raising his hand and his face. When he was close enough, he knelt down and slowly touched my chest, saying intensely, "Tag, you''re it," then gave a big smile, causing all the kids on top of me to shout in triumph.

    When the kids started celebrating with shouts still on top of me, the door of the house opened, revealing Mom, Teddy, and her three friends, including Missy, who, upon seeing the human pile, quickly joined in and made the kids laugh.

    "What''s going on here?" Mom asked, amused.

    "We defeated PJ, that''s what happened," Gabe said, making the kids, strangely including Missy, celebrate.

    Unable to deny my brother''s claim, I could only smile in defeat. Mom smiled sweetly at the moment, and Teddy and her friends laughed at the situation.

    Teddy quietly indicated that we should move.

    Seeing that the kids and I were blocking the way, I got up and removed a few kids from my arms first, making the others roll onto the grass, allowing Teddy and her two friends to pass. Definitely, they teased the situation as they left. "Goodbye, PJ," said Bianca, Teddy''s friend.

    With a nod, I bid farewell to the two teenagers, and in the street, two cars I hadn''t noticed parked in front of the house were boarded by Teddy''s two friends after saying goodbye.

    "Well, kids, it''s time for you to go home. Your parents might be worried," Mom said, looking at all the kids still lying on the grass, probably exhausted from all the play.

    Mom took Missy''s hand and helped her up. "I''ll accompany Missy home. You two go inside and get ready for dinner," she ordered with a smile.

    Gabe said goodbye to all his new friends, fist-bumping each of them. The smallest kid, the one with big ears, approached me with his fist raised, to which I quickly responded with a light bump.

    Comically, after witnessing my interaction with the youngest child, the other children formed an attempt at a line to also fist bump. One by one, I bid farewell to the children, prompting them to take their own bikes and leave. After saying goodbye to the penultimate one, who also grabbed a bike, the child with the big ears was there again with his fist raised.

    Amused again, I fist-bumped him and ruffled his hair before turning to enter the house. Only Mom was at the door waiting with a big smile. As I approached a few steps, she nodded her head behind me.

    The boy was still standing there with his back to the house. I didn''t see a bike anywhere. Shrugging in uncertainty at Mom, I approached the boy again to ask how he had gotten here. "Hello, little buddy, don''t you have a bike?" I asked the boy, crouching slightly to be at his eye level.

    "No," the boy simply replied.

    "Okay... so how did you get here?" I asked again.

    "I don''t know," the boy replied, shrugging his shoulders.

    "Do you know where your home is?" I asked.

    "Yes," the boy said, nodding.

    Waiting a moment to see if the child would move on his own, but he did nothing, I asked, "Where?"

    The child simply raised his hand and pointed down one of the streets, "that way," he said simply, lowering his hand again.

    "Well, you better go, it''s starting to get dark," I told the child as I ruffled his hair again.

    "Okay," the child said as he walked away at a leisurely pace.

    Watching him go made me feel uneasy; I remembered stories my colleague used to listen to in the ambulance during break time - ''true crime,'' if I recall correctly. They were horribly traumatic stories, and seeing the little boy walking alone down the street just made a part of my brain feel especially upset.

    "I''m going to accompany him," I quickly told mom, waiting for her reaction. With a sweet smile, mom simply nodded, so I took it as permission.

    Quickly catching up to the child, I lifted him onto my shoulders, seating him behind my head. "Okay, which way is it?" I asked the strangely calm child.

    "That way," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, pointing.

    At a slightly brisk pace, I began to follow his directions. Several minutes later, which translated to many small steps, we arrived at a house behind a big tree. "It''s here," said the child.

    When we reached the door, I lowered him from my shoulders and rang the bell. A moment later, a very hairy, shirtless man with glasses opened the door with a puzzled expression. "Yes?" he asked, still intrigued.

    "Hello, good evening, your son was playing with my little brother, and it''s getting dark, so I accompanied him here," I said, pointing to the small child beside me.

    The man lowered his gaze, and his expression quickly changed from intrigue to surprise. "Dewey!" he exclaimed in amazement. "I thought you were in your room with your brothers."

    "No," the child said calmly as he entered the house.

    Amused by the situation, I could only laugh a bit. "Well, have a good night," I said, bidding farewell to the man.

    "Oh, yes, thank you very much," the awkward man said, patting my shoulder strangely and nodding slowly.

    With a smile, I nodded back and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard the door close as I continued my way back home.

    Upon arriving home, I found my family waiting in the dining room. "Hurry up, PJ, we''ve been waiting for you," Bob said.

    I quickly went to the bathroom to wash my hands and face.

    Dinner proceeded relatively normally. Gabe talked about how he had met his many friends, while Teddy shared some things he had discussed with his friends.

    Finally, Gabe, who had been yawning repeatedly, was forced by mom to get ready for bed, annoyed because he wanted to train with Bob and me. He grumbled as he left the dining room for the bathroom.

    After helping to take the dirty dishes to the kitchen, Bob and I went out to the garage, where Bob turned on the light and opened the large door, saying, "For ventilation," as he stretched his arms.

    Bob insisted on being the first one under the weights.

    At first, we were working out in silence, but after a few repetitions, Bob began to ask about my daily life, my friends at school, Regina, the hospital, doctors, books, and basically anything that came to his mind in between his anecdotes about infestations.

    After a few hours of exercise, Bob, with a towel he used to wipe away his sweat around his neck, clapped once. "Ah, I can feel it," he exclaimed with a big smile. "The muscle burn, I missed this feeling," he said with a grin, squeezing one of my shoulders.

    "Well, today was a productive day," Bob affirmed as he closed the garage door. "Get ready for bed, tomorrow is the first game of the season," Bob continued with excitement, turning off the garage light and guiding me to exit with him.

    Saying goodbye to Bob, who went to clean up in his own bathroom, I quietly entered my room.

    Gabe was already asleep, so I carefully took some clothes to wear after taking a shower.

    After completing my nighttime routine, I returned to my room and prepared my backpack for the next day. When I picked up the book that House had lent me, the letter fell to my feet. Carefully picking it up, I felt my pulse rise again. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I put the book in my backpack, grabbed my flashlight from my desk, and went to my bed.

    Slowly, in my bed, I opened the letter, looking at the finely handwritten letters. Once again, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before starting to read the letter.

    "Dear Mr. Duncan,

    I write this after reading your incredibly well-structured letter full of questions and theories that honestly surprised me. You must understand, not every day does a letter filled with accurate predictions about one''s own research land in your hands. When I read your letter on behalf of Gregory, I thought it would be theories of his own making, but no, remarkably they were annotations from a young person no older than sixteen. Gregory told me that you are studying with him; congratulations. Personally, I taught Gregory for a few years, and I can assure you that he is one of the most gifted doctors out there. With him, you will learn many things (I hope it''s his medical ability and not his... eccentric personality).

    But, I would like to offer you something better. How about you come with me to continue the research? I understand that as a teenager, you have other things on your agenda besides studying or researching a boring topic with a boring old man. So, I offer you the opportunity to be a part of the research from your home. If you wish, I can send you my current notes and the path I wish to take.

    Please think about it. You can always reply with a letter through the previous means if you wish. I always have a residence ready for you here on the campus. It''s your decision, and I hope to hear good news.

    Dr. Donnall Thomas, Professor of Oncology at Harvard Medical School"

    ---

    Glossary

    Intraventricular interferon*: Treatment for subacute sclerosing panencephalitis

    Tendinitis*: Inflammation of the thick fibrous connective tissues that attach muscles to bones.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    This concludes today''s chapter. I decided not to cut it further (the previous chapter was part of this one) and to continue writing. The next chapter will likely be uploaded this Tuesday, and it will be shorter, around 1.5k-2k words.

    We introduced a few characters; let''s see if you can decipher who they are :D

    Things I''d like to clarify:

    1. The interaction with the kids was a pseudo-attempt to see how to write action scenes. The upcoming chapters will focus on the game, so I''d like to know what you thought (It''s quite obvious who the kid with big ears is, but let''s see who can guess it first).

    2. I''ll try to develop Teddy''s character more because I had left it a bit unexplored.

    3. The relationship with Foreman will start improving in a few chapters. Again, I like the character, but there had to be an "antagonist" at the hospital.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading :D.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 20

    Please read the author''s thoughts, thank you.

    ---

    Carefully folding the letter again, I slowly placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. I could feel my chest gradually tightening, excitement making it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps I was breathing so rapidly that my lungs couldn''t keep up with the incoming air. I could feel my heart rate accelerating as a few involuntary tears escaped from my eyes.

    With the money I''ll earn from the bet and the connections I''m about to make, I will definitely achieve my goal in this life. I will become a great doctor.

    Thinking about what my life would be like now that I''ll be going to Harvard much earlier to work with a doctor on the verge of winning the Nobel Prize, I started to laugh. At first, it was silent, but with each passing moment, my laughter grew louder.

    At one point, a groan from Gabe made me immediately fall silent. "Is it time to run?" Gabe asked wearily from his bed.

    Quickly turning off the flashlight I still had on me, I calmly replied, "No, buddy, go back to sleep," receiving no response in return. Reality had hit me once again, and I no longer felt like laughing.

    I was planning once again to leave my family to pursue my own dreams, even though the letter said I could work from here. How selfish could I be?

    I had promised that if I had a second chance, I would use it to be happy, enjoy life, experience new things, make friends, and start a family. Now that it had come true, I couldn''t simply forget my promise. I had friends, I experienced new things every day, my new family loved me, and I loved them back. I was genuinely happy, enjoying this life. I couldn''t just leave.

    With these thoughts continuously swirling in my head, debating internally whether I should go with Dr. Donnall to Harvard to continue the research and be directly involved or just stay in Texas, hundreds of miles away, after a few hours, exhaustion finally overcame my body, and I fell asleep.

    In what seemed like three minutes of sleep, the sound of the alarm clock abruptly woke me up. Tired from what was undoubtedly a restless night of sleep, I took a few seconds to fully wake up enough to turn off the alarm.

    Still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the room, the memories of my thoughts from the previous night came flooding back.

    I had to make a decision, the best course of action was definitely to study directly under Dr. Donnall. It was even an opportunity to secure admission to Harvard without any issues.

    Lost in my thoughts, I couldn''t help but be surprised when a pillow hit me square in the face. Quickly removing it from my face and getting out of bed, I saw Gabe with a big smile.

    "Revenge is sweet," Gabe said with a much more animated smile than I remembered seeing at this hour in the morning.

    Throwing his pillow back at him, I laughed slightly, incredulous at his vengeful attitude. I put my thoughts aside and got up to start my morning routine.

    Gabe, still energized by his accomplishment, got ready quickly, having much more energy than on other days, thanks to a good night''s sleep, I guessed.

    "Come on, let''s go," Gabe said, bouncing up and down, urging me to leave the room once we were both ready.

    As had become our routine, we began warming up in the front yard of our house. "PJ, Gabe, good morning," Mrs. Wilson said, as she did every morning, while taking a walk with her husband, Mr. Wilson.

    "Good morning, Mrs. Wilson," I said with a smile to the kindly elderly lady, followed by Gabe repeating the greeting.

    "Dennis told me yesterday that you played with him and a bunch of other kids," Mrs. Wilson commented with a sweet smile, making Mr. Wilson snort.

    "I hope at least you can show him how to behave," Mr. Wilson said disdainfully.

    "Oh, I didn''t know that one of the kids from yesterday was your grandson," I deduced that the child was their relative, given how affectionately Mrs. Wilson spoke of him.

    "No," Mr. Wilson immediately said, raising his voice and furrowing his brow even more, "that kid is not our grandson," he continued, lowering his voice after a nudge from Mrs. Wilson.

    "He''s not our grandson, PJ, he''s just our neighbor, but he''s a great kid," the woman said calmly. "I hope you get along well with him Gabe; it seems he had a lot of fun with you here," Mrs. Wilson finished with a friendly smile.

    "Yes, ma''am," Gabe replied with a kind smile.

    "I heard that today is the first game," Mr. Wilson said, still frowning after snorting again in annoyance.

    "Yes, sir," I replied quickly but respectfully to the man, who only nodded, still with his ever-present frown.

    "Well, we wish you luck, PJ," Mrs. Wilson said kindly, taking her husband''s arm again. "We won''t bother you kids anymore; continue with your exercises," the kind lady continued, gently dragging her husband away.

    After bidding farewell to the elderly couple, we started our morning run. For some reason, Gabe seemed unusually excited today, running faster than his usual pace and even jumping a bit after a few steps.

    Easily catching up with him and maintaining the same pace, I asked, "Why are you so excited today?" as we continued running.

    After a sprint and now a bit out of breath, Gabe slowed down, taking a moment to respond, "It''s the first game I''m going to watch in person," he said with great excitement, "and you''re going to play in it," he continued, even more excited, blushing after a moment of thinking about what he had said and looking away.

    "Aw, you''re excited because you''re going to watch your big brother play," I told Gabe, playfully nudging him on the shoulder.

    "No, I just want to see how they tackle you" he said, raising his voice, dodging my arm as it sought to gently nudge him again to continue the joke. Now even more embarrassed, he sprinted again.

    Amused, I accelerated as well to catch up with him and continue teasing him, causing Gabe to constantly change his running pace to avoid me.

    Quickly, Gabe, who didn''t maintain a steady pace and didn''t have the physical condition for that kind of race, got tired, slowing down to a light jog. I accompanied him back home, where I let him enter the house to get ready for school.

    Watching Gabe enter the house and close the door, I continued with my own run. Since I had constantly been changing my running speed, I could feel the physical effort in my legs. Therefore, I decided to continue with the slow pace we had at the end, allowing me to once again immerse myself in my thoughts about Dr. Donnall''s proposal.

    With my head still filled with pros and cons, several minutes later, I returned home, where I took the glass of water that was already prepared for me, greeted everyone present, and took a quick shower to wash off the sweat.

    Already in Bob''s terrible truck, still worried about what I would have to do with the offer, on the way to school, listening to the music that Bob claimed was the best in existence, he suddenly said, "I know you might be nervous," possibly noticing something in my demeanor as one song ended and another began. "I used to get nervous before the first game of the season," he continued with a big smile, still looking at the road.

    Partly grateful to Bob for his intention to cheer me up, I simply nodded and didn''t say anything, causing the truck to fall back into a conversation-less silence. A moment later, a new song started, making Bob tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

    When we arrived at school, and Bob slowed down, seriously he turned to face me. "What I wanted to say is, it''s okay to feel nervous, uncertain, and even scared; it''s natural," he said calmly, once again pulling me out of my thoughts. "But it''s important to know that you shouldn''t let those feelings overwhelm you; rationality is your best friend," he continued with a faint smile. "No matter what you do out there, I want you to know that your mom and I support you," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

    Perhaps Bob didn''t realize it, but his words had truly helped me. I still had a debate in mind about whether to go with Dr. Donnall or not, but Bob was right; I couldn''t let fear pressure me.

    "That doesn''t mean I don''t want to see you win; quite the opposite actually, give it your all," Bob said, losing all seriousness with a big smile, pushing me out of the terrible truck. "Break a leg!" he shouted before closing the truck''s door and driving away from the school grounds.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Shaking my head again, amused by Bob''s childish attitude, I began to walk toward the school. If yesterday some people were excited, today was definitely the majority of the school. "Win the game, Duncan!" an older teenager said as he passed by, friendly patting my shoulder.

    "Good luck, PJ," a bunch of girls said, smiling kindly in the main hallway, openly laughing when I nodded, grateful for their encouragement.

    And so, with many more people in the main hallway, I now understood the problem that Sheldon faced every day in these same hallways. With difficulty, I continued to advance, being stopped every now and then by someone cheering me on as they passed and attempting to engage in a brief conversation, which I obviously reciprocated.

    In one of the many occasions when I had to stop and chat briefly with a classmate a few steps away from me, I heard, "Come on, Kat, you have to tell him," from the voice of a girl.

    "Kat?" I turned intrigued. What a coincidence it would be to meet Bianca''s sister, Teddy''s friend, the day after I promised the girl I would thank her sister.

    Behind me, a group of three girls stood together, looking at me in surprise. "Katherine Stratford?" I asked the group of frozen girls who were staring at me for some reason.

    One of the girls pushed the central girl a few steps forward, causing her to stumble over her own feet and lose her balance slightly. Quickly taking a step forward, I caught her by the arm, being careful not to squeeze too hard to avoid hurting her. "Careful," I said as I helped her regain her balance.

    "Thank you," the girl said immediately, snatching her arm back with a forced smile and then turning annoyed toward her friend, who pretended not to know anything and walked away with the other girl several steps.

    "See you later," said the guy I was talking to a moment ago. "Go, Wolfs!" he shouted as he walked away, being cheered on by other equally excited people.

    Waving goodbye to the excited boy who was walking away, I turned my attention back to the teenage girl in front of me.

    For some reason, she seemed nervous, shifting on her two feet still firmly planted on the ground, swaying back and forth while playing with her hair behind her ear.

    "Sorry," I said when I noticed I hadn''t said anything, which was probably why she felt uncomfortable. "Are you Katherina Stratford?" I asked immediately after.

    Raising her head, she nodded, intrigued. "How do you know?" she asked strangely, with a small smile.

    "Your sister is a friend of my sister; I met her at my house yesterday," I replied to the girl with a big smile, trying to be friendly.

    "Oh," she said, surprised, losing her smile and widening her eyes.

    "Yeah, what a coincidence, our sisters are friends," I said, trying to joke with the teenager. "Well, she said some nice things about me that you had told her, so I wanted to thank you," I continued, making the girl''s eyes widen even more comically for some reason.

    "What?" she asked, raising her voice in disbelief after a small coughing fit.

    "Yes, your sister said you think I''m the best student of the year. Thanks for that," I explained, causing the girl''s expression to change drastically. "Oh, that, yes, everyone knows you''re the best in our year, even though I''m in different classes," she quickly clarified, nervously playing with the hem of her clothes.

    "Well, thank you very much for that," I said, flattered. "Although there''s Sheldon," I continued, trying to play it off.

    "The kid?" she asked, this time more calmly.

    "Yes, I''m definitely not smarter than him," I explained calmly. Sheldon''s intelligence didn''t bother me; I''ve always known that there are people much smarter than me. You can''t be the best at everything; it''s impossible.

    "Everyone knows the kid is a genius," the girl said, trying to downplay the topic. "But you''re intelligent, kind, funny, and outgoing. They say you help anyone who asks, and no one has ever seen you be pretentious or rude to anyone, not even a teacher," she quickly explained, staring at her hands as if something very interesting was happening with them. "Despite being one of the most popular people in school, you''re open to having a conversation with anyone, and it''s easy to get along with you," she continued quickly, not pausing to take a breath and avoiding my gaze.

    "Well, at least that''s what everyone says," she said after a moment of catching her breath.

    Now, embarrassed by all the compliments, I didn''t know what to say. I was simply kind to other people, and I didn''t realize they thought so highly of me. Looking at the people around me, I began to notice that indeed many of them greeted me cheerfully when our eyes met. I thought all these interactions were normal, but it seems it was a false idea of mine.

    "Than¡ª" I was saying when someone pulled my arm. "PJ!" Regina shouted excitedly as she hugged my arm. "It''s today, the first game," she said, still excited, bouncing slightly while clinging to my arm. "Aren''t you excited?" she asked, squeezing my arm tightly, filling me with her strawberry scent.

    "Yes," I replied as calmly as possible, once again thinking about mathematics, trying to get the excited girl to relax a bit, and therefore, me too. "Hello, Regina, good morning," I continued after a moment, remembering my manners.

    "Good morning, PJ," Regina said, calming down and slightly smiling as she clung even closer to me. "Regina, meet Katherina Stratford," I said quickly, recalling the other girl I had rudely ignored.

    "Ah, hi," Regina said with a strange smile, quickly ignoring Katherine, who had a hand up with a similarly strange smile on her face.

    "Let''s go, PJ, I''ll walk you to your locker," Regina said again, changing her expression and playing with a few strands of hair as she tugged at my arm, urging me to move forward.

    Being dragged along by the girl, I smiled at the other teenager with silent apologies for my unresponsive behavior. "See you later, Katherine," I said, waving with my free hand without looking at where Regina was pulling me.

    "Just Kat," Kat replied, smiling slightly, also waving with one hand in the air.

    "Goodbye, Kat," I replied as I was pulled away by Regina.

    "Who''s this ''Kat''?" Regina suddenly asked, strangely serious as we walked through the school hallways.

    "What?" I asked, surprised by the sudden question.

    "Yeah, who is she?" Regina asked, squeezing my arm between hers.

    "She''s the sister of a friend of my sister," I replied quickly, not really knowing why I needed to explain.

    "Ah, okay, then it''s fine," Regina said, quickly changing her serious expression and smiling at people passing by and cheerfully greeting those who approached to give encouragement for the upcoming game.

    Every now and then, for some reason, Regina would press closer to me to greet other girls by name as they passed by, who simply walked faster, making Regina smile even more.

    Arriving at my locker, Regina squeezed my arm one last time. "See you at the game, PJ," she said sweetly before heading to her locker with her friends.

    "Right now, I''m so jealous of you," Brock said, approaching from the same spot where Regina and I had arrived moments ago.

    "What? Why?" I asked, genuinely surprised, as I fist-bumped my friend.

    "Regina," he said as if it were obvious, looking at me incredulously, "she''s completely into you," he continued, but after studying my face for a moment, Brock''s eyes widened in surprise. "You really don''t know?" he continued with a big smile, starting to laugh, increasingly puzzled.

    "I don''t know what?" I asked, amused by my friend''s attitude.

    "Come on, SuperStar, you''ve got to know," he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

    "What does he have to know?" Alan suddenly asked, also having arrived from the same direction as us a few moments earlier. "Everyone''s very excited," he said as he fist-bumped us.

    "Yeah, I know" Brock said excited seeing the other people at school, "but SuperStar claims not to know what Regina''s up to," Brock explained with an incredulous expression, pointing at me with his hand while shaking his head.

    "Oh, yeah, he definitely doesn''t know," Alan said as he stored and retrieved things from his locker.

    "I don''t know what?" I asked, this time more desperate.

    "What are you talking about?" David also asked, joining the group.

    "About Regina and SuperStar," Brock explained as if it were a recurring topic.

    "Oh, yeah, she''s intimidating," David laughed as he also started storing and retrieving things from his locker.

    "You''re popular, mate," Brock explained as he gave me a shoulder hug.

    "Yeah, someone made it clear today," I said, agreeing with my friend''s statement.

    "Well, why do you think girls don''t talk to you besides the ones in our class?" Brock continued with a sinister smile.

    "Girls do talk to me," I said, feeling offended for some reason. "Look," I said as I nodded at a group of girls passing by us.

    "Hi, PJ," they said in unison before laughing and continuing on their way.

    "See?" I smiled proudly.

    "Yeah, they greet you," Brock said, adopting a strange pose of wisdom, "but they don''t talk to you beyond that," David added, joining Brock in fist-bumping our bigger friend, imitating the pose.

    "But what does Regina have to do with all this?" I asked, amused by my friends'' antics.

    "I noticed it," Alan said calmly, closing his locker. "There are no other girls from different groups or years who talk to you," he said calmly, "only Regina and Regina''s friends," he continued, giving his explanation as if it were a presentation. "Yesterday, there was an approach with another girl in front of Regina, and she somehow distanced her from you," Alan said, receiving affirmations from the other two teenagers.

    "So, with this evidence, I concluded that Regina was doing something to keep other girls from getting close to you," he said, crossing his arms, accompanied by our other two friends that were making noises that were intended to be creepy with fun.

    Watching my three friends having fun, I couldn''t help but shake my head amused by their crude conclusions. It couldn''t be true that Regina was keeping people away from me; she''s a kind girl.

    Although, with Kat, she literally pulled me away from there, it couldn''t be true, right?

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    This marks the end of this week''s chapter. I know I mentioned the possibility of a mid-week chapter last week, but I didn''t really have the time to sit down and write. I feel that for now, I won''t be changing the update schedule, so we''ll have to stick with one chapter per week, or maybe not. I don''t know.

    Things I would like to clarify:

    1. The MC is a human, and I try to make his personality as human as possible. Humans are made up of feelings and thoughts. If you want to read about a completely desensitized, flawless protagonist who''s far from human, go ahead and read another novel. The synopsis has a warning for a reason, so he''ll be calling Bob by his name until he deals with his human issues.

    2. His ''Beta'' attitude (I find it very disgusting to categorize people as Alpha, Beta, or Sigma; It''s just the stupidity of a teenager who wants to be like Christian Bale in American Psycho. Just teenagers thinking that hating the world is ''cool.'') will continue until he changes it. I''m not going to immediately change his attitude; it''s called character development, and my character will undergo it as the story progresses.

    3. I''ve been having some trouble researching tax and stock market-related things for this novel, so with or without your permission, I''ll make up nonsense to keep the story going. I won''t suddenly make the protagonist the richest person on the planet; how boring would that be?

    4. The title may be misleading. Even though this novel will have elements from various TV series, characters, plots, interactions, etc., it remains fundamentally a medical drama. That''s the purpose, and it will continue to be. The main plot of the story is to be a doctor, as I''ve explained at some point. In my notes, the story is divided into three volumes: the current one, ''adolescence'' getting used to the world and his persona; the second volume, medical school, where the character is more developed, and there are many other planned events; and finally, the third volume, being a doctor, where the story will end (there''s still a long way to go for that).

    If you''ve read these points, please leave a comment or just a message to let me know that I didn''t write these clarifications in vain.

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: 20 Chapters, What? How Cool it''s that? :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 21

    Sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter, enjoy.

    ---

    After making fun of my strange relationship with Regina, my friends began to talk about their typical teenage topics, as always, every now and then, Alan or I ended up as judges of strange disagreements between our other two friends.

    Alan and I were so engrossed in watching an argument about which magazine was better that we didn''t notice when Georgie, our fifth friend, had arrived.

    "Hey," Georgie said, greeting us with a big smile.

    "Hello," David and Brock quickly responded to continue their discussion.

    "Good morning, Georgie," I said to our newly arrived friend. "Are you nervous?" I asked as I watched him move things from his surprisingly messy locker.

    Surprised by the question, Georgie froze for a moment with a notebook in hand. "What?" he asked aloud, nervously. "Nervous, me?" he asked again, furrowing his brow and looking around. "No, not at all. Why do you ask?" he continued hastily, closing his locker hurriedly.

    "He''s definitely nervous," Alan commented with a small mocking smile.

    "Don''t tease him," I said to my calm friend with fake annoyance, giving him a light shoulder punch. "It''s normal to be nervous, Georgie," I continued, giving my nervous friend a one-armed hug. "If you need anything, you can always count on me; after all, we''re friends," I said with false sweetness, placing my hand on my chest.

    Seeing the strange expression Georgie gave after my comment, I couldn''t help but laugh, accompanied by Alan. "Idiot," Georgie said as he pushed me with annoyance, which only made me laugh even more.

    "What''s going on?" Brock asked, who had at some point stopped his strange argument with David.

    "Oh, nothing, it''s just that Georgie here is a little nervous," Alan said, condescendingly mocking in his tone, causing my other two friends to exchange puzzled looks for a few seconds before breaking into a big smile.

    "Is that true, Georgie?" David asked with feigned concern in his voice as he quickly approached Georgie and trapped him under his arm.

    "No," Georgie immediately responded defensively, trying to dodge David''s arm but failing.

    "Come on, Georgie boy," Brock said, imitating David''s falsely concerned tone. "You don''t need to hide your feelings. Tell great Brock how you feel," he continued, also trapping Georgie under his arm and starting to walk alongside David, dragging our friend with them.

    Beside Alan, watching the situation in front of us, we chuckled and bumped fists in a small celebration before following our friends.

    "PJ!" I suddenly heard Sheldon''s voice a few steps away from us. Turning and searching for my little friend, I found him, or at least his arm raised among a crowd of teenagers. It took him several seconds to extricate himself from the mass of people in the main corridor.

    Dressed like a full-fledged insurance salesman with dress shoes, pressed pants, a button-up shirt, and perfectly combed hair, moving strangely due to a briefcase that was basically the same size as his torso.

    "Wait, please," he said, practically shouting over the endless noise caused by our schoolmates'' conversations.

    "Good morning, Sheldon," I greeted my little friend when he finally reached us.

    "Good morning, PJ," Sheldon responded elegantly, straightening his back. "Friend of PJ," he continued, also acknowledging Alan with a slight nod.

    "Mini Cooper," Alan said, returning the greeting with a strange haughty smile.

    "I''m nine years old, obviously, I''m small," Sheldon commented, offended, straightening his back even more in an attempt to appear taller than he actually was.

    "Sure, whatever you say," Alan continued sarcastically, making Sheldon, for some reason, nod with pride, snorting.

    "Don''t pay attention to him, Sheldon; he''s just teasing you," I advised the child calmly, who in return showed confusion in his expression. "Come on, do you need me to accompany you to the classroom?" I continued, ignoring his puzzled expression and pointing to the hallway where dozens of people were filling every available space.

    "Yes," Sheldon responded seriously, looking with concern at the crowd of people in front of him.

    As we made our way through the crowded hallways, I occasionally shielded him from excited teenagers who were approaching without noticing.

    "Will this happen every time there''s a game at school?" Sheldon asked worriedly, as I gently guided him, avoiding another excited teenager.

    "It''s possible it won''t," Alan replied, without taking his eyes off the path, "it''s the first game of the season, so it''s especially exciting for everyone," he explained, still not taking his eyes off the path. "If we win and continue doing well, I''m sure it will stay this way," he finished seriously, still moving forward.

    "Then I sincerely hope you lose," Sheldon said after thinking for a moment, strangely hopeful.

    "Wow," Alan and I said at the same time, surprised, stopping for a moment to look around.

    "Sheldon, for your own sake, I strongly recommend that you keep those comments to yourself," I said calmly to the child, trying not to draw the attention of dozens of football-loving Texan teenagers.

    "Why?" Sheldon asked, completely bewildered.

    "Well, Mini Cooper," Alan said, laughing slightly, causing Sheldon to furrow his brow in annoyance again. "You''re in Texas, and here, if there''s something people believe in besides God," Alan continued, interrupting Sheldon, who seemed to want to say something about the nickname Alan gave him.

    "It''s football," I finished Alan''s thought.

    "Exactly," Alan said arrogantly, causing Sheldon to fall silent again. "So, what do you think will happen when a bunch of emotional and nervous teenagers hear you, little genius, say that you hope their team loses?" Alan asked, still with arrogance.

    "They''ll hate you and possibly attack you," I replied, jokingly teasing the child.

    Our words seemed to affect the young boy, as he simply stared at us, occasionally shifting his gaze from one person to another before nodding slowly.

    "Look, Sheldon, I can protect you from a bunch of people on our way to the classroom," I said as I moved him to avoid another excited teenager, "but from their collective hatred," I continued, shaking my head and clicking my tongue on the roof of my mouth, "a man is just a man," I finished, trying to scare the child as we entered the classroom, where we had arrived a moment ago.

    On our way to our usual seats at the back of the classroom, Alan and I shared a quiet laugh.

    "Hey, where were you guys?" Georgie asked as we took our seats. "Accompanying your little brother," Alan replied ironically, trying to annoy the easily agitated teenager, which, as expected, worked, making Georgie roll his eyes and snort with annoyance.

    "Yeah, basically doing your job as the older brother," I added sarcastically with a big smile, also teasing Georgie.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Georgie seemed like he wanted to say something but was interrupted when the classroom door opened. "Good morning, everyone," Mrs. McElroy said, receiving a response from almost everyone in the room, including me, while still proudly smiling at Georgie for my joke.

    "Now, who can tell me the family names of Romeo and Juliet?" the teacher asked after a few moments in class, smiling at the class.

    As usual, the first and basically the only ones to raise our hands were Sheldon and me.

    Mrs. McElroy, seeing that I raised my hand, smiled cheerfully before changing her expression to a forced smile. "Yes, Sheldon," she said with defeat in her tone.

    "Romeo is the only son of Lord and Lady Montague, and Juliet is the daughter of Lord and Lady Capulet," Sheldon said proudly, straightening his back in his seat.

    "Correct, Sheldon," Mrs. McElroy said seriously, still with a forced smile.

    Upon hearing his ''victory,'' Sheldon turned with a smug smile, which I had already become accustomed to, so I simply returned a calm smile. Annoyed at not receiving the reaction he expected, Sheldon turned back.

    The class continued relatively normally, except that every time my hand was raised, it was ignored. Strangely, Mrs. McElroy acknowledged my presence and my raised arm but never asked for my response, which was making me nervous for some reason.

    As time passed, Sheldon''s arrogant smile grew even wider, and incredibly, his back straightened even more than usual.

    At the end of the class, everyone was packing up their things. "For homework, you need to start your essay on Romeo and Juliet," Mrs. McElroy said with a fake friendly smile.

    "Are you coming?" my friends asked as they began to move out of the classroom. "I''ll be there in a moment," I replied as I approached Mrs. McElroy.

    "Oh, PJ, hi," Mrs. McElroy greeted cheerfully. "How are you?" she asked with a friendly smile.

    "I''m fine, thank you," I responded, hoping to continue and ask her why she ignored me, but the teacher interrupted my words. "Well, that''s good," Mrs. McElroy nodded with a big smile. "You have to be at your best today, PJ," she continued with a certain degree of seriousness. "Coach Cooper said that with you on the team, there''s a great chance of going far this season," she said as she guided me out of the classroom.

    "Go wolf!" the teacher exclaimed excitedly, cheered on by passing teenagers before closing the door in my face.

    "So, I just wanted to ask why you didn''t ask me anything today," I said to the closed door in front of me. "Oh, I see. Well, I guess I was worried for nothing. Thanks, Mrs. McElroy," I continued, pretending to speak with the teacher.

    Taking a deep breath, I decided to ignore this first class and continue with my day.

    Advancing quickly and catching up with my friends in the hallway, Alan asked, "So, why?" as he stopped slightly, distancing himself from our other three friends who were engaged in an incredibly animated discussion about magazines.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled by my friend''s question.

    "Why didn''t she ask you anything?" he replied calmly with a small smile.

    Surprised by his accurate assumption, I didn''t respond for several seconds as we walked behind our other three friends.

    "I didn''t manage to ask her," I finally replied after a few seconds.

    "Well, I don''t think it''s anything bad," Alan said calmly with a small smile.

    "I hope not," I said hopefully when we arrived at our next period.

    Our next period was a science class with Professor Givens. Once again, my hand was ignored. After a few attempts, I decided to give up and simply sit through the class without raising my hand, allowing only Sheldon to do so.

    At the end of the class, I approached Professor Givens, who had his head buried in his arms, lying on his desk, likely feeling depressed due to Sheldon''s constant verbal punishment during the class, not realizing how it affected an adult much older than him.

    "Mr. Givens," I said softly to the depressed man, causing him to lift his head a few centimeters. "Duncan," he said with fake enthusiasm. "What are you doing here?" he asked, puzzled.

    "I wanted to know¡ª" I was about to say until I was interrupted again. "You have to go with your friends," he said quickly, gaining energy. "Today is an important day; you have to win that game so you can go to a great university and not end up as a high school teacher with a student who is clearly more intelligent than you, despite his annoyingly young age," he continued rapidly without pausing to take a breath as he guided me out of the classroom. "So, please, I implore you, win that game so you can achieve great things," he finished with a forced and fake smile, closing the door in my face for the second time.

    "Twice in one day," I said, unable to believe it. "What''s going on today?" I continued, still puzzled, before walking again to catch up with my friends in the cafeteria.

    In the cafeteria, my friends were already seated at our usual table.

    "Hey, SuperStar, I know you''re a nerd and all, but do you really need to stay after class in the classroom?" Brock asked with a teasing smile.

    Taking a seat without bothering to respond to his obvious attempt at mockery, I greeted the other people at the table with a slight nod of my head.

    "So?" Alan asked with a proud smile.

    "Nothing," I replied irritably, not surprised by his quick deduction.

    "I''m sure it''s not a big deal," he said, downplaying the matter as he ate his lunch.

    I didn''t bother to respond. The game, the decision about Dr. Donnall''s proposal, my future, and now everything strange ¨C it was all making me worried.

    "Hi, PJ," a girl''s voice said from behind me.

    Turning to face whoever had spoken to me, I found a teenager I had probably never seen before. "Hello," I responded, surprised, as the teenager made annoyed gestures to a group of girls at another table.

    "I just wanted to wish you good luck with the game and everything," the unknown teenager said nervously.

    "Thank you," I replied, genuinely grateful. "I''m sorry, I don''t know who¡ª" I was about to say when a sudden movement caught me off guard. "PJ!" Regina''s excited voice, very close to my ear, with pressure on my shoulder and two arms squeezing me tightly.

    "Regina," I said, surprised, as she took a seat next to me, pushing one of my teammates aside.

    "I came to ask again where our date is," she said sweetly, tightening her arms even more. "You know, on Saturday," she continued with a strange smile, looking directly into my eyes.

    "At the caf¨¦ in front of the cinema," I said, a bit distracted by Regina''s incredibly enticing strawberry scent and the sensation on my shoulder.

    "Good," she finally said, releasing the tight embrace and returning to her own table with a hypnotic sway of her hips.

    Starting to think about math problems again to address a growing issue in my pants, I remembered what I was doing before Regina interrupted abruptly.

    "I''m sorry," I apologized, turning to nobody, surprised because the girl was no longer there. I turned to Alan on my other side to ask where she had gone.

    "I told you," Alan said without looking at me, still eating his lunch.

    "Intimidating," David and Brock said simultaneously, laughing while making feeble attempts at creepy sounds.

    "No, not at all," I immediately denied. "Regina just came to ask about our date," I asserted, trying to appear more confident than I really was. I had a lot on my mind, and I didn''t want any issues with Regina to be one of them.

    "If you say so," Alan said, obviously condescending, with a little mocking smile, accompanied by teasing from my other friends.

    Ignoring them, I decided to quickly eat my lunch.

    The day went on, the last period, mathematics with Mrs. Ingram. Of all the teachers, I was sure if there was anyone who would allow me to answer some questions to distract my mind, it would be her.

    "Now, who can tell me the result of this equation?" Mrs. Ingram asked, turning towards the board.

    Once again, as was often the case, only Sheldon and I raised our hands.

    Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Ingram, without looking at anyone in the class, said, "Yes, Cooper," leaving me completely speechless.

    "The answer is thirty-two. I would like to mention that the most efficient way to solve this equation is..." Sheldon was saying, but I interrupted him, "No, not you either!" I said, raising my voice and standing up. All the pressure I had felt throughout the day made me forget my manners. Mrs. Ingram turned, surprised, looking at me fixedly, which made me realize how disrespectful I had been.

    "What?" Mrs. Ingram asked, surprised.

    "I''m sorry; it won''t happen again," I said, embarrassed, sitting back down in my seat.

    "No, it''s okay, Duncan. Tell me what''s going on?" Mrs. Ingram said, much less surprised.

    "No, it''s just that, well," I was trying to say, "it''s just that all the teachers have been ignoring my hand to answer questions, and I thought you wouldn''t either. It was just an outburst of excitement. I''m sorry," I quickly said, now even more embarrassed.

    The classroom fell silent for several seconds until a loud burst of laughter from Mrs. Ingram interrupted the silence, making all my classmates, including myself, look at her in confusion.

    "Oh," Mrs. Ingram finally said after several seconds, clutching her stomach in pain from the laughter attack, "I''m sorry, I''m sorry," she continued, wiping a few tears from her eyes, "I knew you wouldn''t mind answering a few questions." She said, still with a big smile.

    "What?" I asked, not understanding what was happening, a sentiment I shared with the majority of people in the classroom.

    "Oh, it''s just that Coach Cooper asked us to go easy on you, Duncan, after all, today is the first game, and you need to be focused," Mrs. Ingram said with a big smile. "But I knew you wouldn''t mind."

    "We''re on the team too," Georgie suddenly said, offended as he stood up.

    "Yes, but unlike you guys, Duncan actually wants to be tested," Mrs. Ingram replied haughtily, immediately making Georgie sit back down.

    "Well, let''s continue, Duncan, can you tell me the answer to this equation?" Mrs. Ingram asked with a big smile, writing on the board.

    "The answer is 10," I quickly responded, doing the calculation in my head.

    "Correct," Mrs. Ingram confirmed cheerfully.

    Sheldon, upon hearing my ''victory,'' turned with a deep frown on his face, responding with the same calm smile, and turned his face back to the front.

    It felt good to have the answer to something in these days.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and definitely not a doctor.

    Here ends another chapter, getting closer to 100k words (WOW!).

    Now, this chapter might feel like filler (it definitely is), and I apologize for that. I''ve been having very little time to write lately, with the first exams of this period coming up, I''ve had to put writing aside a bit to focus on education. There will be a chapter every week, that''s for sure, but I hope you''ll forgive me if some of those chapters are of lower quality.

    Having said that.

    I think that''s it, as always, if you find any mistakes, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 22

    Having clarified the issue of questions with Mrs. Ingram, the class continued with a normalcy appreciated by me, Sheldon, who surely understood that his superiority in answers for this day was nothing more than a strange favor from the teachers. He maintained a consistently annoyed frown throughout the rest of the class, even when answering one of the few remaining questions.

    The class ended with the sound of the bell, prompting everyone to rise from their seats. "Remember your homework," said Mrs. Ingram with a fake smile. "And PJ, good luck in the game today," she continued with a genuine smile as she bid farewell to the other students.

    "We''re on the team too," grumbled Georgie as we walked out of the classroom. "Yes, but you''re not her favorite student," Alan countered calmly, a strange smile on his face. "No, obviously, the favorite is SuperStar," Brock said excitedly, pushing my shoulders frantically, causing my other friends to nod in agreement.

    As in the morning, the entire school was once again buzzing with excitement. People shouted in the hallways and chanted rhythmic cheers involving the school mascot. On the way to the school''s locker rooms, I received more pats on the back than I had ever felt before, and my friends also became the targets of weak encouragements.

    "Now I''m really excited," Brock said with a big smile as he opened the locker room door.

    Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was completely opposite to the one outside. The remaining players from the previous team sat on the benches, completely defeated, with their heads down. Some of them even appeared to be praying with their eyes tightly closed.

    As we made our way to our lockers, my friends, especially Brock and David, began to lose their broad smiles as they surveyed the surroundings.

    "What''s going on here?" Brock cryptically asked, completely losing his excited smile and succumbing to the strange atmosphere.

    "The first game for Medford has always been bad," Alan said seriously, opening his locker to change into his uniform.

    "But we haven''t played yet. How can they be so down?" David asked, concerned, looking around.

    "In the past, idiot," Alan commented, exasperated. "Every year, a new team is formed, and every year, they have a very bad streak starting with the first game of the season. Why do you think the coach accepts freshmen for the school''s only team?" he continued as he changed into his uniform. "They hope that the new team will achieve something, and the whole school does too," he finished seriously, pointing his thumb at the door we had entered a few moments ago.

    Alan''s words had hit my friends, and they had also made me reconsider all of our classmates'' actions in recent days. They weren''t excited; they were hopeful.

    It was a new weight to carry.

    Clapping loudly, I made my now-silent friends snap out of their thoughts. "Let''s not dwell on that. We have a game we''ve trained for, so let''s just do what we''ve practiced, and nothing will go wrong," I said hopefully, trying to lift the spirits of those who listened, including myself.

    My small words of encouragement seemed to have slightly achieved their goal, at least with my friends, who began to dress at a faster pace.

    "Attention, everyone in the center!" Coach Wilkins shouted in the middle of the locker room with his arms at his sides.

    "Thanks," said Mr. Cooper, giving the other coach a pat on the shoulder. "As you probably know, the first game of the season is special for this school," he continued after a moment of looking at everyone in the locker room. "I say the same thing every year, and I mean it," he said seriously, abruptly silencing a few older teammates who had laughed at his previous comment. "I hope this season will finally put a trophy on that shelf," he said calmly, pointing to his office, where he remained silent for a few moments.

    With that, Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins stood in place without saying anything, causing my teammates to wonder about the silence. Clearing his throat, Coach Wilkins nudged Coach Cooper with his elbow, urging him with a look to continue speaking.

    "Well," Mr. Cooper said, snapping out of his thoughts and pausing for a moment as he looked at everyone intently, "just do what you''ve learned in training and focus on the game," he said, making an obviously fake attempt at enthusiasm, raising a fist and then nodding strangely and rigidly before returning to his office.

    "And have fun," Coach Wilkins added awkwardly before following Mr. Cooper into the office, stopping before entering and saying, "go warm up."

    "Well, that wasn''t weird at all," David said ironically, shaking his head in disappointment and beginning to walk out of the locker room onto the field, following many other teammates who were leaving with their spirits deflated, holding their helmets.

    George, walking behind everyone else, seemed to be the most disappointed of all.

    A few moments later, only a few of us remained in the locker room, including Brock, Alan, and me. "Ready to go?" Brock asked after finishing dressing.

    "Yeah, just a moment," I replied, walking toward the coaches'' office.

    After knocking on the door and waiting for a moment to be given permission to enter, I found Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins standing by their desks. They seemed to have been talking about something before I interrupted them.

    "Duncan," Coach Wilkins said, nodding in greeting and silently urging me to speak.

    "Coaches," I greeted back. I didn''t know how to start the necessary conversation. "I just wanted to come because, well," I continued, still hesitating to say what I was thinking.

    "What''s wrong, PJ?" Coach Cooper asked, concerned, approaching and placing his hand on my shoulder, inspecting me nervously. "Is your arm hurting? Can''t you play? Are you injured?" he quickly asked in succession, hyperventilating and causing both Coach Wilkins and me to worry about the health of the man who had suffered a heart attack just a few days ago.

    "No, no," I quickly said, trying to calm the agitated man and guiding him gently to his chair with Coach Wilkins'' help. "Calm down, Coach, you need to breathe; you can''t get worked up like this," I reminded him, offering him a glass of water from his desk.

    Breathing with difficulty, placing a hand on his chest and starting to sweat profusely, Coach Cooper took the glass from my hand and began drinking rapidly. "Yes, you''re right," he said between gasps after consuming a large amount of water in a short time. "Sorry for that," he continued after slightly controlling his breathing.

    "No, it''s my fault. I just wanted to say that my teammates were feeling a bit down after your speech, Coach," I quickly said to the now less agitated man, avoiding the gazes of the two coaches in front of me.

    "What, wasn''t Coach''s speech motivating?" Coach Wilkins asked angrily and indignantly, raising his voice as he walked to my side of the coaches'' desk.

    "Calm down, Wayne, PJ is right," Mr. Cooper said quietly, having remained silent until then. "It''s true, my previous speech was in poor taste, and I pushed the kids too hard," he continued, explaining to his assistant while struggling to stand up. Seeing that it was a bit difficult for him to do so, Coach Wilkins and I quickly approached again to help him.

    "Come on," Mr. Cooper said somewhat embarrassed, removing our hands from his arms as he quickly made his way out of the office, straightening his back with each step.

    "Well done, kid," Coach Wilkins said as he passed me, giving me some encouraging pats on the shoulder.

    "Thank you?" I said, slightly puzzled, in a whisper to no one in particular because the two coaches had already left the office.

    Quickly snapping out of my thoughts, I also left the office to go to the locker rooms to grab my helmet and head out to the field.

    The day was perfectly sunny, and the stands were filling up with more people by the minute. Schoolmates, whom I vaguely recognized from seeing them in the hallways, were accompanied by adults, possibly family members of someone at the school, and a few others I didn''t recognize.

    "Go, PJ!" I heard from the stands, followed by the sound of a toy trumpet. Dressed in the school''s colors and with her entire face painted in those same colors, Mom was jumping cheerfully along with Missy, who was also with the rest of the Cooper family.

    Upon noticing that I had noticed their presence, both Missy and Mom became even more excited, shouting even louder and waving their arms erratically.

    Next to them were the other members of my family, awkwardly trying to distance themselves a few steps from the excited woman who continued to shout excitedly.

    Teddy, who was the most embarrassed by Mom''s behavior, was trying to hide her face while talking to one of her friends, whom I had met the other day.

    With another loud blast from her toy trumpet, Mom started celebrating again and shouting, playfully spelling out the two letters that made up my nickname.

    Enjoying the whole situation, I raised my hand to greet my family, causing the already very excited woman to shout even louder, along with the little excited girl by her side.

    My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of a whistle. "Thanks for joining us, Duncan," said Coach Cooper ironically after blowing his whistle loudly, now standing upright with confidence in front of the lined-up team.

    I quickly positioned myself among my teammates to await what the coach was going to say.

    The coach paced in silence for a moment in front of us, followed by Coach Wilkins, who, probably not knowing what was happening, decided to put on a serious face while assessing us with a half-closed eye.

    "Someone made me realize that I didn''t explain myself well a few moments ago in the locker room," Coach Cooper finally said calmly, still walking in front of us. "The school has a losing streak, yes," Coach Cooper asserted sternly, "but that doesn''t mean it''s always that way," he continued with a furrowed brow.

    "I don''t know what those people outside see when they look at you standing here," Coach Cooper pointed to the stands seriously, "but I know what I see," he said, nodding and with a small smile on his face. "I see strong players," he said, giving a tap on Brock''s shoulder pads as he passed by him with Georgie and other teammates, "fast ones," he continued, also moving David''s shoulders, "tenacious ones," he nodded at Alan, receiving the same gesture from my calm friend, "and I see clever players," he finished, looking directly into my eyes.

    "I don''t care about the outcome today," Coach Cooper said confidently, "what matters most to me today is that you show what you''re capable of," he continued, closing his fist tightly in front of his body. "Now, foot warm-up!" he shouted to make his whistle sound, causing all of us, including me, to start moving our feet in place quickly.

    "To the right!" Coach Cooper yelled as Coach Wilkins blew his whistle. "To the left!" we repeated the process. I could see my teammates with different expressions, more prepared and genuinely motivated for the game. With the sound of the whistle again, we turned and repeated.

    We continued our warm-up until the sound of trumpets and drums began to play on the other side of the field. Cheers and whistles were heard as a bunch of people dressed in the colors of another school entered, trotting onto the field. First came a small band, followed by a cheerleading team, followed by our rival team trotting in while giving out cheers resembling tribal war cries.

    "Look at their cleats," I heard someone behind me. "They''re all rich," another of my teammates said with disdain in his voice.

    Coach Cooper, along with Coach Wilkins, approached the coaches of the other school to greet them.

    After a few moments of the coaches greeting the referees, we approached the coaches who were talking among themselves, discussing with the clipboard that Coach Wilkins was carrying.

    "Duncan, go for the coin toss. If you win, we want the initial kickoff," Coach Cooper suddenly said, pushing me to the center of the field, where one of the referees was already waiting along with the captain of the other team.

    With pats on the back and lots of pushing, they made me move to where the referee was. "You got this, SuperStar," Brock, who was once again completely excited, said.

    "He''s going for the coin toss; there''s nothing I can do. It''s just luck," Alan said seriously, silencing our friend.

    Moving quickly with cheers of support from the stands and my teammates to the center of the field alongside the referee and the opposing team''s captain, "Good afternoon, gentlemen, I''m Referee Coleman," said the man with an annoyed expression on his face, turning to the opposing team''s captain. "You''re the visitors; you call it in the air," he ordered before flipping the coin.

    "Heads," said the other captain confidently.

    When the referee received the coin, he checked the result, nodding and showing it first to the visiting team and then to me. "We want to receive," said the opposing captain with an annoyed smile as he nodded; it had landed on heads.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The referee nodded as he put his whistle in his mouth and pointed with his hand to his side of the field.

    After giving each of us a pat on the back, the referee indicated that we should step away.

    "Good luck, small-town boy," said the opposing team''s captain as he trotted away, patting my shoulder in the direction of his team.

    Strangely, his insinuation didn''t bother me; I had expected that if something like this happened, as with Dr. Foreman, pride would make me upset, but no, on the contrary, it seemed amusing to me.

    Upon returning to the team, I was greeted with pats on the shoulder from Coach Cooper. "It''s okay, take a seat, PJ," he said, nodding with a strange, big smile.

    "I''m sorry, I cursed," Brock said embarrassed as I took my seat next to him. "No worries, idiot, it wasn''t your fault," I replied, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

    The special teams entered the field to kick off. The enthusiasm from the stands for both teams was especially noisy. Different school chants could be heard, cheerleaders reciting their own rhymes, and spectators shouting their own cheers to support their players.

    The referee blew his whistle, and the kicker did his job. The sound of cheering was overshadowed by the sounds of collision and groaning due to hits during the game.

    The opposing receiver was tackled after running a few yards, allowing the game to begin.

    The defensive team entered the field, and from the benches, we cheered with applause and shouts for our teammates.

    The formation was set, and when the referee gave the green light with another whistle, the opposing team started their play. Once again, all the noises were drowned out by the sounds of collision and grunting. The opposing team''s quarterback handed off the ball to their halfback, who managed to run a few yards before being stopped.

    "That''s it!" Coach Cooper shouted with excitement while clapping cheerfully.

    The game continued, and after the third down due to a cornerback''s mistake, one of the receivers managed to score a touchdown. The cheers from the opposing team''s spectators filled the field as the receiver celebrated his touchdown with his team.

    Having scored the first six points of the game, the opposing team decided to attempt an extra point.

    With the score at seven to zero, the other team''s kicker was ready to send the ball to our receiver.

    After a few minutes off the field, it was our turn to enter. "Come here, PJ," Coach Cooper said as he grabbed my helmet. "We''re going to run a Wishbone to the left," Coach Cooper said seriously, and when I nodded, he allowed me to run onto the field.

    As I entered the field, I heard various shouts calling my name, including my mom''s voice among them.

    "Wishbone to the left," I said to my teammates before starting the formation.

    With everyone in their positions, for the first time in my two lives, I yelled to set up the play in an official game.

    The sound of my own breathing echoed inside my helmet as I felt sweat running down the sides of my head. I could feel my heart beating in my legs as I prepared to hand off the ball.

    "Set, hut!" I yelled, and in an impressive way, everything started. For a moment, I thought I would freeze when I received the ball. I could see my teammates'' bodies colliding with the defenders. Brock, with his big body, had managed to do his job, stopping one of the defensive tackles. Quickly, when one of the runners was within my reach, I handed off the ball and ran in the opposite direction.

    In the first play, we had managed to advance a few yards, and it was now second and seven yards to go. "Let''s try to the right," I said when we regrouped.

    Again, suddenly, all the noises around seemed to lower in volume when my own breathing was the only thing I could hear inside my helmet.

    Taking a deep breath, I got into position again. "Set, hut!" I yelled again, receiving the ball and waiting for the runner to approach.

    Georgie in front of me failed to cover his defensive tackle, allowing him to intercept and tackle the runner who was supposed to receive the ball.

    Given the circumstances, I looked ahead on the field to try a pass. At one point, I made eye contact with one of our wide receivers who suddenly had his hands on his chest, silently requesting the ball. Quickly, I retracted my arm, shifting my body''s balance rapidly, and threw the ball, hoping the pass would land correctly.

    It seemed to move in slow motion, or at least that''s how it felt to me. I could see the receiver raising his arms, ready to catch the ball, and I also saw the ball slipping through his fingers and bouncing out of bounds.

    The game continued, and we lost possession of the ball after a few more plays. So, the offensive team returned to the bench.

    "That was a great pass, PJ," Coach Cooper said, pulling me out from among my teammates. "But for now, I want you to save your arm until the second half, okay?" he asked, still serious as he squeezed my shoulder.

    Coach Cooper let me go when I nodded, allowing me to go to the benches.

    "Thanks," I said as I grabbed a water bottle from the cooler before sitting down with my friends.

    "The first pass was incredible. If Jefferson had caught it, I''m sure it would have been a touchdown," Brock said with a hint of annoyance toward a now embarrassed receiver.

    "Don''t tease him," I reprimanded my friend with a pat on the back of his head. "My pass was way too high," I continued, keeping my eyes on the game.

    "We all saw the pass, PJ. It''s good to be modest, but don''t sell yourself short," Alan said, who was also calmly watching the game.

    The game continued, and with a whistle, the referee signaled the end of the first quarter. Everyone returned to their benches to hydrate and listen to the coach''s instructions.

    A few minutes later, the game resumed.

    During the second quarter, the opposing team managed to get very close to the end zone, opting to kick a field goal instead of running another play.

    With that, we were losing ten to zero.

    Once again in position, I took a breath, remembering Coach Cooper''s instruction. "Set, hut!" The sounds of hits and grunts came from the front this time, and the runner managed to reach me.

    With the ball handoff executed correctly again, we managed to advance a few yards.

    We repeated the play three more times, but unfortunately, we couldn''t advance past the ten yards, losing possession of the ball once again.

    "That''s okay, well done," Coach Cooper said, trying to boost the morale of the offensive team as we walked back to the bench. Sitting there once again, I felt particularly defeated. All that time spent practicing throws would be for nothing if I couldn''t perform.

    Drinking from my water bottle in silence, along with my teammates, who were also quiet, we continued to watch the game. The opposing team was making gradual progress down the field without losing possession of the ball.

    When they were near the end zone again, the opposing team changed their previous strategy and decided to run a play.

    The second quarter''s time had elapsed after the opposing team scored again, opting for an extra point by kicking the ball.

    We returned to the locker room amid encouraging applause from the stands. I could see my mom still maintaining her spirit, even though we were trailing by ten to seven. She managed to lift my mood slightly, making me chuckle as we made our way to the locker room.

    As before the game, the atmosphere in the locker room was utterly somber. Everyone had their heads down, lamenting their mistakes during the game.

    "I know we''re losing by a lot, and we probably won''t win this time, again," Coach Cooper said after a few minutes of observing the dejected teenagers. "In fact, we definitely won''t win this time," he continued, lowering his voice with a defeated smile. "But we won''t give up either," he said, this time raising his voice, making my teammates lift their heads. "Losing doesn''t make you losers," Mr. Cooper said calmly to everyone in the locker room. "You learn as much from failures as you do from successes," Coach Cooper continued with a proud smile.

    Moving from the center of the room towards his office, Coach Cooper said with a smile, "So, you can come out in the second half feeling sorry for yourselves, or you can go out and give them a beating," he finished, raising his voice above the more spirited shouts of my teammates. "Captain," Mr. Cooper said, turning to enter his office.

    Understanding the implication, I stood in the center of the room, urging everyone to stand up and join me.

    Gathering in the center of the room seemed to excite my teammates, who made sounds of encouragement, waiting for my words. I had never done this before. "Who wants to be great?" I asked, shouting after a moment of taking a deep breath to dispel the embarrassment of what I was about to do. "Me!" my teammates shouted. "So, you want greatness?" I asked again, shouting and addressing Brock, who was one of the closest. "Yes, I want greatness," Brock replied, flexing his arms, causing my other teammates to shout in support. "What about you, do you want greatness?" I asked another teammate around me, receiving a similar response.

    "Right now, we''re down," I said, getting confirmations from my teammates. "We''re on the ground," I repeated, louder. "They think they can stomp on us," I said, making my teammates shout in annoyance. "We won''t let them," I declared, receiving words of support. "If you want greatness, you have to rise up and stomp on them," I concluded, shouting and being cheered on by the others on the team.

    With shouts meant to intimidate, we returned to the field with the coaches right behind us, greeted by the spectators with cheers and encouragement, along with the cheerleaders who had caught onto the sudden good mood.

    "Duncan," Coach Cooper called me. "Yes?" I asked as I approached him.

    "From now on, I want to try some plays, so you''re going to throw," he ordered with a proud smile.

    "Okay," I nodded excitedly, returning to the sidelines to wait for the special teams to receive the ball.

    Stepping onto the field once more, we lined up. "This is going to be easy," said the opposing team''s middle linebacker, clapping his hands.

    "Set, hut!" I shouted immediately after his joke, starting the play quickly.

    I quickly stepped back a few paces to get a better view of the overall situation. David, who had started running at some point, was already on the other side of the opposing defensive line. Sharing a glance with my friend, I prepared to throw the ball.

    Once again, everything seemed to move in slow motion, at least for me. The trajectory of the ball was beautifully etched in my mind as it traveled, and David''s arms went up to catch the ball successfully. A moment later, before David could start running, the opposing team''s strong safety tackled him, stopping the play.

    "Well done," we heard Coach Cooper shout. We had managed to advance almost twenty yards.

    When David returned to his position, being showered with words of encouragement and helmet taps, we quickly continued with the game.

    Once again, I had the ball in my hands, ready to throw. This time, David was obstructed by the defensive line. Scanning my teammates, I found the receiver who had lost the ball several plays ago, Jefferson.

    Nodding again, I threw, this time aiming for his chest where he had his hands. Managing to catch the ball, he quickly started running, evading two opponents and impressively leaping into the end zone to score our first points of the game.

    We all started running behind him, and Jefferson didn''t get up until we hoisted him up for a group hug. He seemed stunned, to say the least. He looked frozen as we playfully thumped him.

    A moment later, it seemed like he snapped out of it, celebrating with enthusiasm, shaking my helmet.

    Coach Cooper, who was a few steps away from us, shouted that we should try for the two-point conversion.

    Repositioning ourselves, I signaled to my teammates that we would go for two points.

    "Set, hut!" I shouted once more, receiving the ball, and within seconds, I threw it to David, who had managed to get on the other side within the end zone.

    "Yes!" I heard someone shout before I registered what had happened to my teammates. It hadn''t been long after the third quarter began when we had scored eight points to their seventeen. There was a chance to turn this around.

    We were once again on the benches, waiting to go out onto the field. "Your passes have been very good, Duncan. Do you think you can keep it up until the end?" Coach Cooper asked, extremely excited.

    "Yes, I believe I can," I replied confidently while testing the range of motion in my shoulder.

    "Good," Coach Cooper nodded, still excited. "Keep sending the ball to Jefferson if you see him open," he continued with seriousness. "Jefferson!" he shouted as he approached my teammate.

    Meanwhile, the opposing team was on their fourth down with four yards to go. It seemed like the defensive team had felt the pressure from the points we had just scored.

    Once again, the opposing team''s last play was stopped by our team, causing the stands to erupt with excitement.

    It was our possession again, and the special teams received the ball, managing to advance a few yards before being stopped.

    "That''s what I''m talking about!" Brock shouted excitedly as we ran onto the field.

    Once again, after several plays, we were just a few yards away from the end zone.

    With a quick pass to Jefferson, who had managed to get a little distance from the defenders, we scored the next six points of the game.

    Following the coach''s instructions, we attempted an extra point with a field goal, making the score fifteen to seventeen.

    Back on the bench after receiving congratulations from both coaches and cheers from the crowd, we took our seats while waiting for our turn to enter the game again.

    Having finished the third quarter, the opposing team had managed to score a field goal, adding three points to their total.

    After a brief rest where Coach Cooper explained the next strategy, we received the ball again, and it was our turn once more.

    The game continued. We didn''t lose possession, but we were definitely close to doing so several times. Time was running out when, with only a few seconds left on fourth down and just a few yards from the touchdown, I could feel the nerves making my hands sweaty. My heart''s beating seemed to echo in my legs as well as at the back of my throat. Once again, as if everything was a game, the sounds around me faded, leaving me with only my breathing. "Set!" I shouted as loudly as I had all day. "Hut!" I received the ball, which felt heavier than usual in my hands.

    There was no receiver to throw to; the opponents understood that we couldn''t score with no one to pass the ball to. I made the decision to run myself.

    Advancing quickly and evading an opposing player, I gained enough momentum to leap over Georgie, who was on the ground after a tough battle with another player. I couldn''t hear anything, or at least, that''s how it seemed. I was lying on the field, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, until I heard the referee''s whistle indicating the score.

    As if in an explosion, a collective shout echoed across the field. Without realizing what was happening, I was lifted off the ground aggressively, sandwiched between my friends, primarily Brock, who was hugging me tightly and lifting me a few inches off the ground. "We won!" Brock shouted with excitement.

    Being placed back on the ground, I felt a flurry of hands slapping my helmet until I decided to remove it, trying to prevent the continued onslaught.

    Coach Cooper and Coach Wilkins, followed by the other team members, also ran over to where we were at that moment. "We won, we finally won!" Coach Cooper shouted excitedly. I could swear I saw tears welling up in his eyes, but that was something I''d never mention to anyone.

    Immersed in everything around me, happy for all that I was experiencing, I couldn''t dodge a body running toward me. "PJ," Regina''s voice said as she clung tightly to my shoulders, stopping with her legs against my hips. "We won!" I managed to say before Regina abruptly collided her face with mine.

    It was an incredible moment, Regina''s scent, which I had honestly fantasized about more than once, entering my nostrils, and her soft, small lips pressed against mine.

    Lost in the sensation, I forgot where I was and got lost in it for a few long seconds until the sound of someone clearing their throat woke me from the moment.

    "Mom?" I said, surprised to see the petite woman beside us with a questioning expression.

    "Mrs. Duncan," Regina said with a nervous smile as she let go of my neck and stepped down from my body.

    Losing her furrowed brow with a big smile, Mom addressed Regina, "You must be Regina. PJ has talked a lot about you," making the teenager even more embarrassed, and she clung to my arm again.

    "Yes, nice to meet you, ma''am," Regina said with a strange smile as she looked at Mom''s appearance.

    "Mom, I..." I began, but the petite woman, losing her composure again, smiled manically, then jumped up to give me a strong hug.

    Behind Mom, I found Bob, who was standing next to an embarrassed Teddy, who was playing with her hair amongst the crowd, and an excited Gabe, who was playing with one of my friends.

    Seeing my gaze, Bob simply smiled and gave me a thumbs-up of approval, making me laugh reluctantly, as I still had Mom clinging tightly to my torso.

    I''m enjoying my life. I couldn''t let this go.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and I am far from being a doctor.

    With 100,000 words, I was debating whether to make a special chapter for this occasion or just a regular one, so I decided to create this chapter. Honestly, I''m not someone who enjoys watching sports; I prefer to watch movies or TV series. To write this chapter, I had to watch two games that lasted two hours each (the longest I''ve ever watched sports in my life, aside from fictional entertainment). I''m sure I made mistakes describing the game, and I hope you''ll forgive me for that. This novel, in general, serves as a way to practice my writing skills. SPOILER: I have many novels planned for the years ahead, so I want to improve my writing, and what better way than with this story.

    I know there''s a general dislike for Regina, but again, I hope you can bear with me until this ''bitter pill'' passes. I already have plans for the protagonist''s romantic interest, and SPOILER: it''s not Regina.

    Leave a review or your favorite novel will go on hiatus forever.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s all for now. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

 Daily Drama - Chapter 23

    Edit: I forgot to mention, but the previous chapter had some issues during the translation towards the end of the chapter. In my original text, there were three paragraphs that were somehow deleted during the translation, specifically the ones explaining how the match was won. It''s been resolved now, I apologize for the inconvenience.

    ---

    With my mom''s arms still tightly wrapped around my torso, Regina clinging to my arm, and a bunch of people around us still shouting and celebrating.

    The celebration after winning the match lasted several more moments, with essentially all the players on the field, along with the other schoolmates and the match spectators. It was an important moment for Medford, finally winning the first game of the season after many years; it was truly a situation that deserved to be celebrated.

    Along with my teammates, we all received pats on the back in congratulation from the family members on the field, even the coaches, especially Mr. Cooper, who had a large number of parents surrounding him, congratulating him on the achievement.

    A few moments later, the head referee, blowing his whistle, signaled for the non-participants to exit back to the stands, while indicating to us players to respectfully thank each other for the game.

    After shaking hands with some very embarrassed and saddened opponents, we also shook hands with the present referees.

    Amidst my still ecstatic teammates and under the cheers and celebration from the people in the stands, we jogged towards the showers.

    After cleaning the dirt off our bodies in the showers, the atmosphere in the locker room was completely different from what it was at the beginning of the game. Fist bumps, laughter, and words of encouragement could be heard as my teammates celebrated the victory, chanting cheerfully, embracing, and dancing among the lockers.

    "Who''s going to win this season?" David suddenly shouted, standing on a bench, receiving excited shouts in response from everyone in the locker room.

    "Who?" he shouted even louder and more excitedly, receiving even louder shouts from my teammates.

    After the excitement from his question, David, feeling like he was losing his audience, began chanting about how easily we would win the rest of the games.

    "It''s the first game of the season!" I exclaimed, annoyed, interrupting the excitement of my teammates, raising my hands to get their attention.

    With sounds of silence in the locker room, Alan took charge of quieting the still-talking people, surprising them with my statement.

    Thanking my quiet friend with a nod, I stood up. "It''s the first game of the season, there are still many to come," I said seriously to my teammates. "Let''s not let this victory get to our heads," I continued, trying to appear as serious as possible.

    "We have to work hard from now on if we want to win the rest of the games this season," I emphasized the importance of my words.

    "That''s true," said Brock, strangely serious, nodding in agreement as he stood up. "But," he said after a moment of silence, raising a finger and changing his serious face to a small smile, "who showed greatness today?" he asked, raising his voice and smiling strangely, teasingly mocking my speech in silence and receiving excited responses from the others.

    "Okay," I said, shaking my head slightly amused at my friend''s teasing attempts. "Today we won, and that deserves a celebration," I continued, and immediately, excited shouts from my teammates resounded in the locker room again.

    "Okay, okay, calm down," Mr. Cooper shouted as he entered the locker room, followed by Coach Wilkins, both with big smiles as they watched my teammates celebrate. "We won today," Mr. Cooper said, losing his smile, speaking seriously, "but that doesn''t mean¡ª" he was saying, but Georgie interrupted him.

    "PJ already gave us that talk, Dad," the teenager said, looking for a way to put on his shirt.

    "Yes, SuperStar already talked to us about the importance of making an effort and blah blah blah," Brock joked, turning his back to the coaches, hoping that the others would agree with his words, seeking smiles from our teammates and finally from me.

    Shaking my head slightly in silence, I indicated to him to turn around where Mr. Cooper was looking at him angrily.

    Noticing his mistake and lowering his head, Brock quickly sat down, keeping silent and avoiding looking at the annoyed coach.

    "Yes, that''s what I thought," Mr. Cooper said, still staring at Brock with a furrowed brow. "Well, since PJ already covered that part, I can tell you that you did very well today," he continued, losing the furrowed brow with a weak smile. "I''m proud of you. Celebrate for the rest of the day and rest well. I''ll see you tomorrow," he finished with a big smile, patting Coach Wilkins on the shoulder and entering his office, followed by the other coach.

    The surprisingly kind message from the coach left most of my teammates unsure how to react, looking at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

    "Well, you heard the coach," I said, putting on my shoes, making everyone else react and finish dressing as well.

    Several minutes later, we were all ready to leave, bidding each other farewell, congratulating each other for the game as we exited the locker room, each one looking for their family.

    Outside the locker room, only Bob was waiting in the stands. "Hey, champ," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "It was a great game today," he continued, squeezing my shoulder as he guided me towards his old pickup truck.

    "Thanks, Dad," I said, somewhat embarrassed by his words. "Where''s Mom and the kids?" I asked, noticing the absence of the rest of my family.

    "Your siblings got tired of waiting, so they went with your mom," Bob said calmly, opening the door of his truck for me to get in.

    Inside the truck, Bob, without starting the engine, gripped the steering wheel slightly. "I mean it, son. I feel like I''ve said this more times in these few months than in many years, and I don''t want you to think I don''t mean it," he said, still looking out the windshield without starting the engine. "I''m very proud of you," he continued finally after a few seconds of silence, starting the engine and with it the radio.

    "Incredible throws," he said with a big smile, shaking his head. "And the final jump," he continued, laughing, playfully hitting the steering wheel in celebration.

    Equally proud and embarrassed, I couldn''t say anything to Bob as I watched the cars still parked in the school parking lot move as Bob drove on.

    Even with many people leaving the school at the exit of the parking lot, a small traffic jam occurred, causing us to stop for a few minutes as we waited for people to move ahead.

    Looking out of the car while listening to Bob''s music playing on the speakers, I noticed someone walking alone, carrying their backpack on the street. "Wait, Dad, pull over for a moment, please," I said, pointing to the person on the side of the road.

    Bob slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road. "Alan?" I asked after rolling down the window to my calm friend, who seemed very surprised, quickly putting his hand into his backpack.

    "PJ," he said with a sigh of relief, taking his hand out of his backpack. "What are you doing here?" I asked, concerned.

    "I''m going home," he replied as if it were obvious.

    "Didn''t your parents come?" Bob asked, surprised.

    "Good afternoon, Mr. Duncan. No, Mom couldn''t come, and Dad doesn''t like this kind of thing," Alan replied calmly.

    Bob seemed surprised by my friend''s composure in admitting that his family hadn''t accompanied him. "Get in, kid, we''ll take you home," Bob said kindly.

    "No, I''m fine, thank you, Mr. Duncan. I usually walk home; it''s not far," Alan quickly responded, thanking Bob.

    "You''d be messing around; it''s going to start getting dark, and you need to rest after that hell of a game," Bob joked, stretching to open the back door of the truck.

    Seeing Alan''s indecision about whether to get in the car or not, "Get in before I get out to make you," I joked with my friend, managing to get him into the car after he let out a sigh.

    After approximately twenty minutes following Alan''s directions, we arrived at his house, a small one-story house that, unlike the surrounding houses, had several American flags waving in its front yard.

    On the porch of the house, a man, donning an army cap and sipping on a beer, was seated on a rocking chair. He was well-dressed for just being outside his house.

    Looking oddly at the car that had just parked in front of his house, the man frowned as he stood up.

    "Mary!" he shouted. "There''s someone here," he continued, turning his head towards the house.

    Immediately, Alan opened the truck''s door and got out. Observing my calm friend, the man, without relaxing his frown, turned back towards the house. "Forget it!" he shouted again, not stopping as he made his way to the truck.

    "Hello, good afternoon," said Bob amicably from his seat, raising his hand.

    "Good afternoon," the man replied, swiftly inspecting the truck with an obviously feigned smile.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "See you tomorrow, PJ," Alan quickly interjected through the open window. "Thanks for bringing me, Mr. Duncan," my calm friend continued, nodding to Bob, seemingly insistent as if he wanted us to leave the house quickly.

    "You''re welcome, kid," Bob replied calmly, noting his strange behavior.

    The house''s door creaked loudly, making us all look in its direction. The open door revealed a disheveled and obviously weary woman with two younger children behind Alan.

    With gentle pats on my friend''s head, the man guided him, pushing him slightly into the house. "Come in," he ordered.

    "Thank you for bringing him," the man said earnestly to Bob, shaking his hand as he extended it.

    "No problem, Bob Duncan, nice to meet you," Bob responded, shaking the man''s hand.

    "Rob Treveiler," the man introduced himself.

    While the adults introduced themselves, I saw Alan enter the house after greeting the woman, whom I assumed was his mother, and the two small children, presumably his siblings. He patted the younger of the two small children''s hair affectionately, while the other, an older boy with glasses, seemed extremely nervous, waving his hands in front of his face, receiving a gentle pat on the shoulder.

    "The boys had a great game today, they won, in fact," Bob said. "But I''m sure your son will tell you all about the game," he continued. "And seeing he was alone, I offered to bring Alan home. He''s a great friend of my PJ," Bob explained, affectionately patting my shoulder.

    With a slight nod and a sound of understanding, Mr. Treveiler simply stared at Bob, still with an odd, small smile.

    "Well, I''m sure we''ll meet again sometime," Bob said, a bit awkwardly after a few moments. "It was a pleasure," he tried to sound composed as he started the truck again.

    "Yes, a pleasure," Mr. Treveiler responded without bothering to fake a smile this time.

    Driving slowly out of the house''s grounds in silence, "what a strange man," Bob said when we were far enough, glancing at Mr. Treveiler in the rearview mirror.

    The journey home was mostly quiet as we listened to Bob''s favorite songs.

    When we arrived home, Mom had prepared a celebratory bought dinner.

    During dinner, the conversation was completely monopolized by Gabe, who, excitedly, asked hundreds of questions rapidly about the game and the atmosphere on the field.

    "So, is Regina your girlfriend?" Teddy suddenly asked, as if it were an unimportant matter.

    Taken completely by surprise by the sudden question, I couldn''t immediately respond, having to reframe my sister''s question.

    "Well?" Mom asked, pretending to be calm as she avoided looking me in the eyes, dancing slightly with anticipation.

    "Well, I think so," I said, not really sure. I have no experience in this.

    Losing her feigned composure, Mom suddenly celebrated, "I knew it!" she exclaimed, applauding. "When are you bringing her over? I need to meet her. Not just anyone can be my son''s girlfriend. She''s pretty, yes, not as much as I was at your age," she quickly added, followed by endless questions about it.

    After answering the vast majority of the questions, at least the ones that could be answered, dinner continued as normal.

    At dusk, I accompanied Bob and Gabe to our home gym. Resting after the game, I didn''t train with them, but I did help Gabe by explaining how the movement should be performed.

    As it was Gabe''s first time lifting weights for exercise, he quickly tired out his muscles.

    When Gabe and Bob finished and went to clean up, I began the tasks they had left that day. After finishing my schoolwork, I started taking notes on the last book that House had lent me.

    Still reading the book, lying on my bed, listening to Gabe practice his guitar, the tiredness of the day finally got to me. Setting the book on my desk, I went to do my nighttime routine to be able to sleep.

    With no troubling decisions to disturb my sleep that night, I slept peacefully.

    The next day, thanks to sufficient hours of sleep, I was able to wake up without the help of the alarm, preventing it from ringing and waking Gabe.

    Silently taking my pillow, I walked over to Gabe''s side of the room. When Gabe was close enough, I began hitting him with enough force to annoy him with the pillow.

    "Hey!" my brother yelled annoyed as he covered himself from the continuous pillow hits.

    "That''s right," I joked with my younger brother, still not stopping the hits. "Revenge is sweet," I explained to the bewildered kid.

    As it was routine every day, Gabe and I went for a run after warming up in the front yard, and strangely, especially for Gabe, the Wilson couple didn''t show up today for our usual greeting.

    Taking my packed lunch prepared by Mom, I grabbed my things prepared the night before to head to school.

    "I''m sure today will be a great day," Bob said when we arrived at school, nudging me out of his truck. "But still, good luck today," he said before closing the door and driving away from the school.

    Bob was not mistaken; the days before the game, and even the day of the game, were nothing compared to how people were behaving today. As I entered the school, many people around me shouted excitedly as I walked down the main hallway.

    Greeting the people I passed, I ran into Regina halfway down my path. "Good morning," Regina said cheerfully, giving me a tight hug.

    "Good morning," I said, smiling at the enthusiastic girl.

    "Come on, I''ll walk you to your locker," Regina said, hugging my arm as she walked by my side, also greeting the people who passed us.

    One of the people we crossed paths with on our way was Kat, who was talking seriously with her group of friends. "Kat!" I spoke over the noise of the hallway, greeting the now surprised teenager.

    Without saying anything, Kat raised her hand, surprised, returning the greeting.

    "Let''s go, or you''ll be late for your first class," Regina stretched to speak softly in my ear.

    Regina''s action sent a shiver down my spine; I was so surprised that I couldn''t react fast enough, being guided by Regina as we continued walking together. Regina seemed to enjoy greeting people as we walked.

    Upon reaching my locker, Regina bid me goodbye, walking to her friends who were waiting for her a few steps away.

    Alone at my locker, I began organizing my things. A few moments after organizing my belongings outside my locker, my friends arrived, also being celebrated by the people who passed them.

    Greeting my friends, we began talking about the game from the previous day, especially David and Brock, specifically the parts they played in the game.

    The last of my friends to arrive was Alan, who, as always, came in quietly and calmly, greeting as he always did.

    Returning the greeting to our calm friend, my other three friends continued talking among themselves as I approached Alan, who was taking things out of his locker. "I didn''t know you had siblings," I said, starting the conversation.

    "Chistan and Braxton," Alan said calmly, I suppose naming his brothers. "Christian is the oldest," he continued.

    "They seem to be in the same age range as Gabe, maybe they can be friends, after all, Gabe is friends with Georgie''s brothers," I explained to my friend.

    Releasing an unexpected laugh for him, Alan, upon noticing my surprised expression, quickly explained, "Oh, I''m sure Gabe can be friends with Braxton, but Christian is," he said, pausing to think about what his next word would be, "special," he continued, lowering his voice.

    "Special?" I asked, intrigued by the adjective used.

    "Christian," he repeated, pausing again with a conflicted expression. "Christian has autism," he continued, searching my expression.

    I didn''t understand the problem until I recalled where we lived and the time we were in. Even in my life, developmental disability disorders were a taboo topic in society.

    "Well, that could be a slight hindrance," I said jokingly, "but it''s not impossible for someone on the spectrum to make friends," I continued quickly, seeing that my initial remark didn''t sit well with him.

    "Of course, you know about the condition," Alan teased lightly, shaking his head.

    "I could even say that Sheldon is on the spectrum, and I''m sure I''m some sort of friend to him," I told my friend, hoping he would take his brother''s condition with less seriousness.

    "What about me?" suddenly asked Sheldon from behind me, making me jump in surprise. "Sheldon, when did you get here?" I asked, surprised, looking at the peculiar child.

    "A few seconds ago. The game was yesterday, why are people still so excited?" the child asked, annoyed, glancing at the people around.

    "We won yesterday," Alan responded calmly.

    "I know," immediately responded Sheldon, still intrigued, as if that information wasn''t important.

    Ignoring the child, I took him by the shoulder and guided him to our classroom along with Alan, shielding him from the excited people around us as we quickly made our way to our classroom.

    The day went on as usual, with teachers congratulating us in each passing class, particularly myself.

    My ''competition'' with Sheldon played out as it had on previous days, striving to get as many answers as possible.

    In the cafeteria, our usually busy table, occupied by my teammates, was now crowded with unfamiliar faces talking to my friends excitedly about the previous day''s game.

    Many of these people attempted to strike up conversations, asking me questions about the game, but my responses were overshadowed by those of my friends, especially Brock, who had an impressive talent for narrating the events during the game, heightening the excitement as he spoke.

    The day continued as the last classes of the day passed.

    At the end of the day, Mom was already waiting outside the school in her car, dressed in her nurse''s uniform, nodding her head to the beat of the music playing on her speakers.

    At the hospital, after greeting Mom''s friendly nurse colleagues, I walked to House''s office.

    Inside, only House sat with his feet up on his desk, leisurely reading a magazine.

    "So?" the man asked without looking up from his magazine when I entered the office.

    "I''d like to send a letter to Dr. Donnall," I replied, understanding his unspoken question.

    "You know I''ll read it as soon as it''s in my hands," House said sardonically, flipping a page in his magazine.

    "I''ll stay here. I have important things in my life," I replied after a few moments of staring at the man.

    Slamming the magazine shut with an annoyed smile, "I knew it. You''d rather I taught you. I''m very important in your life," he said, stretching to grab a sheet of paper from his desk.

    Without bothering to respond to his obvious annoying joke, I snatched the paper from his hand to write a thank you letter to Dr. Donnall, explaining why I decided to stay in Texas, also adding the request for a follow-up on what I needed his help with in his research.

    Folding the letter and handing it to House, he tucked it into an envelope after reading it with an ironic smile.

    "I thought you were staying for me, kid," House said with an obviously feigned hurt expression, placing a hand on his chest. "Here," he said, pulling something from his coat. "This gives you access to many things. Use it responsibly," he continued sarcastically, extending a card.

    The card was a hospital credential with my name on it.

    "If you want, you can go to the lab. I think Chase is there practicing something," House said, opening his magazine again.

    "No case today?" I asked the doctor.

    "No, we have to wait for something interesting to come along," he said, sounding tired. "You''re coming with me to the clinic in a few hours," House said, changing the page of his magazine.

    "How''s Dan?" I asked the relaxed doctor. "He''ll be fine. You were right, and the treatment seems to be working," House replied, settling back in his chair behind his desk.

    Listening to what I wanted to hear rather loudly, I pretended to clear my throat to get the cynical doctor''s attention.

    "What?" asked House, looking intrigued over his magazine.

    "You owe me six hundred dollars," I said immediately, happy to see House squeeze his eyes shut in disappointment. "I was hoping you wouldn''t remember that," House said, defeated, as he pulled out his wallet and took out six one-hundred-dollar bills.

    "I''ll use it responsibly," I said, winking at the annoyed doctor as I counted the six bills one by one slowly to annoy House, achieving my goal as House once again hid behind his magazine, and I triumphantly left his office.

    In one of the labs, I found Dr. Chase practicing with a piece of synthetic skin and sutures.

    "Hey, PJ," Chase greeted cheerfully when he saw me enter. "How was your game?" he asked kindly, cutting his suture thread.

    "We won," I said, approaching his table. "What are you doing?" I asked, taking a seat on one of the high stools beside him.

    "Continuous suturing," he replied, showing me his work.

    Taking a piece of synthetic skin and a practice kit, I followed Chase''s example along with his explanations.

    "You''re good," Chase said, surprised, after seeing my sutures.

    "You''re a good teacher," I lied. The truth was that continuous suturing was something I had practiced to exhaustion in my previous life.

    Several minutes of practice with Chase later, Dr. Cameron and Foreman entered the lab, discussing something amusingly.

    "PJ," Dr. Cameron greeted cheerfully, taking a seat on one of the benches beside us.

    "Hello," I returned the greeting to the friendly doctor. "Dr. Foreman," I also greeted the now serious doctor.

    Without returning the greeting, Dr. Foreman pulled out his wallet and took out ten one-hundred-dollar bills.

    "Thanks," I said as he handed them over, this time quickly tucking the bills into my pants.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, much less a doctor.

    Having said that.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!!!.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 24

    Clearly annoyed at having lost so much money, Doctor Foreman didn''t respond to my gratitude, instead sitting behind a microscope, occasionally jotting down notes in a log.

    "How was your game, PJ?" asked Doctor Cameron, also taking a seat. "We wanted to come and cheer you on, but you know how it is. We had to monitor Dan''s treatment. By the way, he''s doing really well. His parents were very happy," she continued, examining one of the synthetic skins spread out on the table.

    "We were lucky to diagnose Dan, and even luckier that the treatment is working," I said, relieved for the sick teenager. "The game went pretty well. We won on the last play," I replied to the kind doctor''s first question while still suturing. There came a point in all my years of practice where it was natural for my hands to continue their work even when I was focused on other things.

    After a few seconds of not hearing any feedback from Cameron, I shifted my focus from my suturing work to find the reason behind Cameron''s silence. She was carefully examining one of the synthetic skins that she had left aside after suturing.

    "What''s up?" I asked the focused doctor.

    "This is very good, well done, Chase," replied Doctor Cameron, nodding approvingly at her medical colleague.

    Chase, also diverting his attention from his own suturing work, briefly inspected the synthetic skin in the doctor''s hand. "That''s not mine, it''s House Junior''s," he said, identifying the work with a mildly ironic smile.

    Ignoring Chase''s joke, I explained to the astonished doctor who was still closely examining the work, "Chase has been teaching me."

    "Then this one is yours?" she asked incredulously, scrutinizing each point more closely. "It''s unfair," she continued, placing the skin on the table. "How can someone be born with so much talent? For me to reach this level, I had to practice for years in school."

    Lowering my head, avoiding Cameron''s incredulous gaze, I continued with my own sutures.

    "Scary, isn''t it? Imagine what he''ll achieve after medical school," said Chase, laughing and shaking his head.

    Exhaling with exasperation from his solitary workstation, Doctor Foreman made his annoyance known.

    "Oh, come on, Foreman," said Cameron, picking up the synthetic skin again from the table. "Look at this. You can''t say that PJ doesn''t have talent. Knowing things from books is one thing, but having the talent for these things is another," she continued, tossing the skin to the irked doctor, who took it and studied it for a moment before setting it aside with a tightly closed mouth.

    "Anyway, he can''t be here," he suddenly said, more excitedly, ignoring Cameron''s strange proud looks.

    It seemed like Cameron was going to say something again, but the sound of a pager interrupted her. The three doctors, ignoring the current discussion, quickly checked their own devices, two of them putting them away again, presumably having not received any news.

    "House is looking for you, PJ. He''s in the clinic," said Chase, who hadn''t put down his pager until that moment.

    Getting up from my seat, I silently thanked Chase as I also bid farewell to Cameron with a wave, walking towards the door. Under the doorframe, I remembered Foreman''s comment. "By the way, I can be anywhere in the hospital," I said, searching for my credentials. "Doctor Cuddy takes care of that," I said, showing the annoyed doctor the said credential.

    Before he could respond, I left the lab for the outpatient clinic where I was sure House was waiting for me.

    After greeting Nurse Fryday, she pointed me to where House was, also handing me the chart of the next patient.

    "Hey," I greeted House, who was sitting on the bed in the room, reading a magazine. "Cosmopolitan?" I asked, reading the magazine in his hands.

    With some effort, House got up from the bed with annoyance, setting the magazine aside. "Research," he said shamelessly, sitting down on the chair in the room. "Today, I''m going to teach you something very important that a good doctor must do," he continued, playing with his cane in his hands.

    "What do you think is the first thing to do when diagnosing a patient?" he asked, still playing with his cane.

    "Read their information," I replied, pointing to the file in my hands.

    "No," said House seriously, finally lifting his gaze from his cane. "The first thing to do is to observe the patient," he continued, pointing his cane at me. "You make eye contact, so you''re not ashamed to be here. You''re wearing cheap but good quality clothes, recently bought. You have your watch on your left wrist, so you''re right-handed. Your fingers are clean and smooth, but your palms aren''t. You don''t do manual labor, obviously. So you probably exercise, possibly just started lifting weights. Your haircut, unlike people your age, is short and well-styled, simple, not extravagant. You have good hygiene. Your nails are well trimmed, and there''s no dirt under them, so you wash your hands enough to reduce the risk of a stomach infection. Obviously, you don''t wear glasses. If you did, you''d have marks on the bridge of your nose, and right now, you''re not wearing contacts. You have good vision since you can read the title of this magazine from where you''re standing, and as far as I can see, both your ears work well. Usually, when a person has reduced hearing in one ear, they tilt their head in that direction," he finished when the door to the office was heard.

    "Here," said House, handing me a small notebook and snatching the file from my hands. "Try what I just did now and write down what you see. In the end, we''ll see how you did," he continued seriously. "Go ahead," he said when the office door was knocked, raising his voice to the office door.

    Nurse Fryday entered along with a patient behind her. Thanking the nurse, I closed the door behind her as House got up from his chair, making the patient sit on the bed.

    "Well, let''s see what we have here," said House after a few seconds, opening the file in his hands and reading the papers inside.

    Opening the small notebook that House had given me, I attempted to do what he had shown me, listening in the background to what House was discussing with the woman.

    Woman in her early twenties, not embarrassed to be in the office, clutching her stomach, possibly in pain but without facial expressions indicating pain. She''s sweating despite being in a well-ventilated room and wearing comfortable, cool clothing, especially her shoes. No implant as far as I could tell when she moved her arm.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Closing the notebook, House, who seemed to have his attention divided, asked me silently if I had finished, nodding as the doctor handed me the open file, urging me to read it.

    Quickly reading the file, I nodded to House, who was waiting for me. "So, do you have any additional questions?" he asked arrogantly, probably knowing the diagnosis.

    "When was the last time you had your period?" I asked, trying to ignore House''s attitude.

    Furrowing her brow, the patient seemed to try to remember. "A little over two weeks ago," she finally replied after a few seconds of thinking.

    "So, Duncan?" House asked again, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

    "Pregnancy," I said, closing the file.

    Nodding slightly, House returned his attention to the now extremely pale patient.

    After House dealt with the patient, providing the necessary information and organizing an appointment with an obstetrician, he took the notebook from my hands.

    "Well, I guess you could say this''s good, you have good instincts," he said after a moment, reading what I had written. "Well spotted with the shoes, but you missed the reason behind it. She had some swelling in the lower part of her legs. She didn''t have a ring, so probably we will have a new messy marriage there. She didn''t have a watch, so you couldn''t tell whether she''s left-handed or right-handed, but she did have a mark on her right hand''s middle finger, which is usually caused by writing a lot," continued House seriously, explaining things I had overlooked. "You might think that kind of stuff isn''t important for making the diagnosis, and in the vast majority of cases, that''s true, but you don''t want to miss out on a truly vital piece of information in a case," said House again seriously, opening his magazine.

    After a few seconds of silence, absorbing what House had explained, I asked, "What''s next?" House looked up from his magazine. "Go for the next one," he continued, handing me the file in his hands.

    I continued with the same routine alongside House. While House pretended to engage in a friendly conversation with the patients, I jotted down my observations of each one.

    After bidding farewell to the last patient, House checked his watch. "Well, it''s time," he said, getting ready to leave the room. "I want you to fill that notebook with people you don''t know," he said, pausing at the door. "Pay attention to things you normally wouldn''t," he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder. "And maybe, just maybe, you might become one-tenth as good as me," he finished with an ironic smile.

    Ignoring his joke, I removed his hand from my shoulder and left the clinic. "See you later, House," I said, bidding him goodbye. After saying goodbye to Nurse Fryday, I went to House''s office to grab my backpack and head home with Mom.

    After Mom said goodbye to her co-workers, we left the hospital. On the way home, while Mom asked questions about my day, I recounted how hers had been.

    At home, after greeting Bob, who was as usual sitting in his armchair watching television and drinking a beer, I went outside Teddy''s room, knocking on the door to make myself heard over the music coming from my sister''s room.

    "Come in," I heard Teddy''s voice over the music from her room.

    Opening the door, I found my sister reading a magazine on her bed. "PJ," she greeted cheerfully, putting the magazine aside.

    "Did you finish your homework?" I asked, taking a seat in the corner of her bed.

    "Yes," she said calmly, "it wasn''t difficult," she continued quickly, worried after seeing, presumably, a disappointed look on my face. Helping her with her homework was an important part of my day.

    "It''s okay," I said, trying to reassure my sister, sitting in the corner of her bed. "How was your day?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

    "Fine. My friend Baja told us about a..." she began to speak after a moment, like a faucet being turned on, Teddy gradually started talking about gossip in her school and the people involved, who likes whom, ''horrible'' things someone did, and a bunch of other things that are important to a teenager.

    By the time I finished talking with Teddy, it was time for dinner the family dinner happened without much important to talk about, Bob as always told us about some building with thousands of small insects that he had to take care of Gabe also talked about what happened at his school and Mom repeated many of the things she talked about with me in the car.

    After dinner, Bob, Gabe, and I went to our homemade gym. Bob and I worked with weights that pushed our limits, while we made Gabe work with weights that wouldn''t hurt him.

    We continued exercising for an hour. Gabe, due to his age, stopped before us but stayed with us until Bob and I finished our routine. After wiping the sweat off my body, I finished the book that House had left in my care, while listening to Gabe practice one of his songs. Setting aside the notes I had been taking while studying the book, I prepared to go to bed, putting the book away and lying down, still listening to Gabe play. I turned off the alarm for the next day.

    Unaware of when I fell asleep deeply under the sound of Gabe''s soothing guitar. The next day, after Gabe and I went for a run a few hours later than we usually do during the week, I took a shower and got ready for my date with Regina.

    Bob, who would be taking me to the cafe, was waiting at the front door. "Ready, champ?" he asked, with his hand on my shoulder.

    Nodding to Bob, we left the house to get into his beat-up pickup truck. "You''re almost sixteen. Have you thought about getting a car?" Bob asked as he drove the truck into town.

    "Yeah, my friend Brock told me that his uncle was selling an old car. I was going to visit him on Sunday to see its condition and how much he was going to sell it for," I told him.

    "Do you have the money to buy it?" Bob asked calmly.

    "I have some savings, but I was thinking of getting a job if necessary. Maybe tutoring or perhaps babysitting on weekends," I lied. If my bet paid off, I would have a few thousand dollars in a few days.

    "Yeah, that could work," said Bob, nodding. "I could lend you the money if you need it," he continued after a moment.

    "Maybe advance my allowance by a thousand dollars," I said hopefully. With the money I had earned from House''s bets and my own, combined with a few hundred dollars that PJ had saved up, I had two thousand eight hundred dollars secured for the fight bet. With those thousand dollars, it could be three thousand eight hundred.

    After a moment of silence and taking a deep breath, Bob nodded. "It''s okay," he said, nodding slightly. "You''d better make sure your grades are perfect," he joked, laughing as he slowed down to stop in front of the cinema.

    "Don''t worry, they will be, and I promise I''ll pay every cent back. Thanks, Dad," I quickly said to him.

    Laughing as he shook his head, Bob opened the passenger door. "Let''s go. You have to get there before the lady, and I have to go to the bank. See you in two hours?" he asked, opening the passenger door. Thanking Bob, I got out of his beat-up truck.

    Watching Bob''s truck drive away, I walked to the cafe where I was supposed to meet Regina. "Hello," I greeted the barista behind the counter. "Sarah," I said, reading her name tag. "Do you have a table available for two?" I asked, leaning slightly over the counter, trying to be as polite as possible.

    The busy barista, as more people entered the cafe, huffed with annoyance. "I don''t know, try looking around the place. There might be some free tables," she said exasperatedly as she worked quickly, preparing coffee cups.

    Nodding slightly to the still disinterested barista, I moved away from the counter, searching for an open table. I took a seat at a recently vacated table next to the window in the cafe.

    After waiting for a few seconds, I decided to start on the ''assignment'' that House had given me. Taking the small notebook out of my back pocket, I began to describe the people in the cafe. There were elderly people sipping coffee while reading the newspaper, one of them took a pill along with his coffee. Judging by the tremor in his hands and the strength of his glasses, I theorized it could be a heart problem.

    Sarah, the barista, was another person of interest. Working behind the counter in a cafe was something I didn''t have the pleasure of knowing, but the excessive sweating on her forehead and her lack of balance on her feet didn''t seem natural for a barista working on a cool workday.

    Focused on the barista, I didn''t notice when Regina had entered the cafe. "Hey," she said, sitting across from me at the table.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, much less a doctor.

    I have been completely sick for several days, I don''t know if it''s COVID, I have to get some tests done. The weekly chapter will always be published unless there is a completely special case. Thank you very much to all those who support this novel day by day, I hope you send me your energies like Goku because I''m really sick.

    I think that''s all, as always, if you find any errors, please let me know and I will correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 25

    I didn''t have any past reference for how a date should go, but in general, my date with Regina was going well. Following Bob''s advice, I listened to everything Regina had to say, mostly gossip. In a way, it reminded me of my last conversation with Teddy, listening to her talk about people at school and the things she knew about them, occasionally giving my opinion on some of her questions.

    Even though I didn''t want to be disrespectful, my attention during the date drifted to the barista behind the counter more times than I would have liked. Something wasn''t right, and her condition worsened as time passed. I could notice it more easily¡ªexcessive sweating on her forehead, lack of balance, and now difficulty keeping her eyes open with irritation from the light.

    Trying to ignore the nagging interest in the barista''s condition, I intentionally focused all my attention on Regina.

    "Then I told Gretchen that Martha Krabappel was to blame," she said after taking a sip from her glass of water with ice.

    Adjusting myself in my seat to relax my posture, I picked up my coffee from the table to drink while listening to Regina.

    And so the date continued. Now I knew many things that had happened in school, from who was dating whom to theories about the teachers and their romantic lives. I even found out that Alan and Gretchen had a relationship but had ended it amicably after Alan didn''t have much time for Gretchen after school.

    "So, what do you think, PJ?" Regina asked after finishing talking about a problem with the cheerleading captain, biting the straw of her glass.

    I was prepared to give my opinion on the issue and how I would solve the problem, but a scream behind Regina interrupted my train of thought. Following the scream, the people in the cafeteria collectively fell silent, some getting up from their seats and others simply contorting their bodies, searching the place.

    Regina was also interested and obstructed my field of vision, so I chose to slowly get up from my seat to look for the source of the scream.

    From the front of the counter, a girl in her twenties was standing on her toes, taking small jumps, looking behind the counter with concern. I couldn''t see Sarah the barista anywhere, imagining the worst, I quickly approached.

    "She suddenly collapsed," the older girl was explaining to the people who had gathered around her, suddenly becoming the center of attention for many questions that she was trying to answer, completely nervous.

    Pushing people that stood in my way, I stretched my neck to also look behind the counter. The barista was on the floor, still sweaty and struggling to keep her eyes open, seemingly in pain, particularly tilting her head to her right side.

    As I watched the barista from the other side of the counter, a guy, also in his twenties, had entered behind the counter, and before anyone could say anything, he started applying compressions to her chest.

    The compressions were poorly done, with an erratic frequency and more force than necessary.

    Surprised by the guy''s actions, I reacted a few seconds late. "You''re doing it wrong," I said, annoyed, as I jumped over the counter, pushing a few people who were obstructing my legs.

    Pushing the guy, I checked the barista''s pulse. "Compressions aren''t needed," I said before quickly turning to reach the landline phone on the counter to call for emergency services.

    "Sarah, can you hear me?" I asked, pushing the phone into the hands of the incredulous guy in front of me. When I had my hands free, I opened one of Sarah''s eyelids, an action that I could only perform for a fraction of a second before Sarah quickly moved her face, avoiding my hand.

    Clearly irritated by the light. I continued, snapping my fingers near her right ear, which was closer to me. Moving my hand, keeping the action until her left ear, I finally got a reaction from the pained barista.

    Checking behind her hair for any lacerations or signs of recent trauma, I continued trying to talk to the barista, now focusing on her left profile. "Sarah, can you hear me? Try nodding your head," I instructed, taking her hand to calm her down a bit and with the other hand gesturing to the people to be silent.

    Erratically, Sarah nodded, still maintaining her expression of pain and tightly closed eyes.

    "Do you have pain in your right ear?" I asked calmly, receiving more nods. "It''s okay, calm down, you''ll be fine," I told the girl, pressing her hand.

    Quietly asking the guy who was on the phone a few seconds ago with my gaze, I received several nervous nods, equally silent.

    A few minutes later, we heard the ambulance siren arriving. "They''re here, Sarah, you''re going to be okay," I reassured the still uncomfortable barista.

    "Move, excuse me," I heard from the entrance of the caf¨¦ as people made way for the paramedics carrying a stretcher.

    "What do we have here?" the paramedic quickly asked as he leaned in to check Sarah.

    "The patient, Sarah, is conscious but disoriented, seems to be experiencing symptoms of labyrinthitis. Pulse is regular, and there are no signs of recent trauma. She had dizziness, nausea, difficulty maintaining balance, light and sound irritation, hearing loss in the right ear, and extreme pain. She seems stable, but a more detailed evaluation at the hospital is necessary," I quickly stated out of habit, stepping back a bit to allow the paramedic to do his job.

    Once again, I spoke without thinking, the sudden silence around reminded me of my position and the age that I now have. The paramedic was surprised for a few brief seconds, quickly snapping out of his trance, definitely a professional.

    Like I did a few minutes ago, the paramedic began conducting swift examinations, checking for possible traumas and eventually snapping his fingers near Sarah''s ears.

    "Alright, thanks, buddy, that''s very helpful, we''ll take it from here," he said with a friendly smile, nodding to his partner to prepare the stretcher.

    "Oh, I almost forgot, it might also be necessary to check the fifth or sixth," I quickly added, pointing at Sarah''s torso, recalling the daring boy''s action who had at some point emerged from behind the counter with the girl who had screamed, evading my and the paramedic''s gaze, who seemed to have understood the situation as he chuckled, shaking his head.

    Once again, making their way through the people in the cafeteria, the paramedics lifted Sarah onto the stretcher. "If the attending ER doctor ignores the possible labyrinthitis, you can ask them to call Dr. Chase or Cameron and tell them that PJ Duncan made the diagnosis," I said after confirming with the paramedic at the hospital where they would take her.

    The paramedic seemed surprised again for a very brief moment, nodding gravely, he got into the ambulance with his partner.

    The paramedics quickly departed for the hospital, leaving the people in the cafeteria in an excited state due to everything that had happened. A small portion remained standing where they were when the paramedic had made them step aside, fascinated by the not-so-common situation, while many others, especially the elderly, sought a place to sit down again to calm their excited hearts.

    Before I could return to the cafeteria to find Regina, she found me first, coming out surprised and pushing people out of her way.

    "That was amazing," she said when she got close enough to me, "you were like a completely calm doctor, so cool," she continued, bouncing a little on her feet.

    "That''s true, dude," said a voice behind Regina, "that was awesome," continued the now recognized boy who had been the one performing the compressions, hugging the girl who had alerted the whole cafeteria.

    "I''m Brandon, by the way," the boy, now known as Brandon, said, offering his hand for a shake.

    "PJ," I replied, also shaking his hand in greeting.

    "I''m Mindy, and you were really cool there," said the girl with a kind smile.

    "Thank you," I said a little embarrassed by receiving so many compliments. Regina, surely noticing my embarrassment, hugged my arm tightly, smiling at the couple in front of us.

    "I see we interrupted your date," Mindy said with a strange smile. "We were also in the middle of something," Brandon said suddenly, embracing his girlfriend, "nice meeting you, PJ, see you later," Brandon continued, suddenly coughing loudly.

    Mindy shook her head amusedly at her boyfriend, repeatedly patting his back as she pulled him away. "See you later," she also said goodbye along with her boyfriend.

    "Hmm, how rude, they didn''t ask for my name," Regina said indignantly.

    Watching Brandon hug Mindy by the waist as they walked away from the cafeteria, it occurred to me to do the same, embarrassed by the action, I quickly freed my arm from Regina''s grasp that had loosened due to her indignation.

    About to take her by the waist, I thought better of it and placed my hand on her shoulder.

    "Do you want some ice cream?" I asked Regina as I quickly guided her to the opposite side of the street, trying to hide my embarrassment, taking advantage of her surprise at my obviously unexpected move.

    "Ice cream?" Regina asked incredulously.

    "Yes, you only had water in the cafeteria," I said as if the idea of having ice cream was obvious now.

    "Do you know how many calories are in ice cream?" Regina asked with a hint of offense.

    "Many?" I asked sarcastically to the overly concerned teenager.

    "Yes, I''m on a diet, and that amount of calories doesn''t fit into my diet," Regina quickly said, shaking her head.

    Unable to help myself, I chuckled at her unfounded concern, "Alright, then no ice cream," I said defeated as I approached a public bench.

    Sitting down on the bench, we fell silent for a few seconds until Regina began talking about one of her cheerleader classmates.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    "Regina," I interrupted the teenager, "we''ve been talking about a lot of people from school, how about we talk about something else now," I said, somewhat hopeful to change the topic.

    "Something else?" Regina asked incredulously, as if the mere idea of talking about anything other than school gossip was a barbarity. "Like what?" she asked again, intrigued.

    "I don''t know, how about you? Your family, your hobbies, your dreams," I said, thinking of all the things I didn''t know about the girl.

    Regina seemed taken aback by the topics for a moment until with a pout and a shrug, she lifted her head as if thinking that way would make it easier. "Well, let''s see," she said with a small smile, biting her lower lip.

    "There''s mom and dad, also Kylie," she said, raising her fingers, "my little sister," she added when she discerned the doubt on my face, "my mom has a dog," she said with much more effort than it had taken her to talk about other people.

    "You met my mother," I joked, recalling the embarrassing moment. "But there''s also dad, and I have two younger siblings, Gabe and Teddy," I continued, smiling happily at my large family, "oh, and I''m going to have another brother or sister, mom is pregnant," I continued, also remembering my upcoming family member.

    Regina seemed enthralled by the conversation, so I decided to continue.

    "As you could see in the cafeteria, my goal is to become a doctor, I''ve been studying hard for it," I said, recalling one of the topics I had asked her about. "How about you?" I asked the teenager.

    After my last question, Regina seemed taken aback, possibly it was my mistake. I didn''t know if teenagers at this age were already thinking about what they wanted to do in their future. Blinded by my own experiences, I asked without thinking.

    "I don''t know, I''ve never thought about it," she said, tilting her head meditatively. "Dad has a lot of connections, so maybe modeling for major fashion magazines, or perhaps being an actress," she continued after pondering for a moment, with a slight smile and a proud tilt of her torso.

    "I definitely think you''d be a great model or actress," I said, trying to be as kind as possible.

    "Do you really think so?" she asked strangely hopeful.

    "You''re obviously beautiful, so any magazine would be foolish not to want you for their covers, and I''d definitely watch any movie where you''re the lead," I said, and it wasn''t a lie. I didn''t know many beautiful women, but Regina was undoubtedly one.

    Regina smiled weakly again, biting her lower lip.

    Talking about magazines and actresses made Regina start talking again about topics I had no clue about. Having had that significant chat, I succumbed to her chosen topic, listening to her talk about a certain clothing and handbag brand.

    A few moments later, an expensive-looking car stopped a few steps away from where we were sitting.

    "They''ve come for me," Regina said with a forced smile as she stood up.

    Getting up behind her, "Let me walk you over," I said, walking by her side.

    As we were a few steps away from the car, the passenger door opened, revealing a petite, oddly youthful-looking blonde woman who seemed to want to get closer.

    Before I could greet the woman, Regina stepped in, "Mom, don''t get out of the car," she said, raising her voice a bit, which I could discern as embarrassment.

    "Alright, honey," the woman quickly said as she got back into the car.

    Letting out a weak laugh, I accompanied Regina to the back door of the car, opening it for her. "Well, see you on Monday," I said to the teenager who had not yet gotten into the car.

    "Thanks for today, PJ. I had a lot of fun," Regina said, reluctant to get into the car.

    The passenger window began to roll down, and before I could crouch to greet Regina''s mother and probably her father, Regina tugged at the end of my shirt and quickly kissed me, once again catching me off guard. I couldn''t react until a few seconds later when Regina abruptly pulled away and quickly got into the car.

    Still a bit stunned, I stood in place for a few seconds, "Aww, how sweet," I heard Regina''s mother from the open window.

    Remembering where I was, I leaned down to the passenger window with a slightly awkward smile, "Nice to meet you, I''m PJ Duncan," I greeted the woman who returned the greeting with a big smile. "Hello, PJ, it''s a pleasure to finally meet you," the woman said, extending her hand out of the window in a strange position as if expecting me to kiss the back of her hand.

    Awkwardly shaking her hand, I smiled at the woman.

    "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. George," I said to the man sitting in the passenger seat, who had a stoic look on his face.

    "Ah, ignore him," the strange woman said, laughing.

    Receiving no response from the man, I simply nodded, embarrassed and not wanting to comment on the situation.

    "Mom!" I heard Regina shout from the back seat of the car.

    "Yes, Honey, I''m sorry. See you later, PJ. It was nice meeting you," Regina''s mother said as she rolled up the car window.

    A second later, the car swiftly drove off down the main road.

    After a moment of watching the car drive away, I returned to the bench to wait for Bob. I needed a ride.

    Several minutes after Regina left, Bob had arrived for me. "Hey, champ," Bob greeted cheerfully as I got into the shabby truck, "how was your date?" he asked immediately after.

    "Uh, fine, I think," I said, mentally weighing the pros and cons of the date in my head. "I think her dad hates me," I said, proceeding to explain to Bob the reasoning behind my statement.

    Laughing loudly after I explained the situation, Bob, still concentrating on the road, shook his head. "Yeah, definitely not a great first impression," he said, still chuckling at each word. "Girls are bolder these days," he affirmed, raising his eyebrows, undoubtedly imagining things. "I have to talk seriously with Teddy," he continued, now serious after thinking about something.

    "What can I do?" I asked, concerned, to the man.

    "Well, right now, nothing," he said calmly. "In fact, first, you have to establish your relationship with her, and you, being the man in the relationship, have to be the one to define it," Bob continued seriously. "Then you can talk to the father, let him know your intentions, and that you''re a well-mannered boy from a good family," he decisively affirmed. "At least that''s what I hope in about twenty years with any caveman who comes near your sister," he finished with a furrowed brow at the idea of Teddy having a boyfriend.

    Laughing at his change in demeanor, I shook my head as I looked out the passenger window, listening to Bob''s music.

    "Oh, by the way, take a thousand dollars," Bob said at some point during the trip, awkwardly stretching a yellow envelope obviously filled with money.

    Opening the envelope, I found perfectly straightened one-hundred-dollar bills, freshly withdrawn from the bank, no doubt.

    "Thanks, Dad, I promise I''ll pay you back," I said to the man, truly grateful. With this, I had a little over three thousand eight hundred dollars that, if the fight went as it did in my previous life, would multiply many times over.

    "No need, son, just use it wisely," Bob said with a somewhat pained smile, still driving his car.

    When we arrived home, we found the Cooper family and the rest of my family sitting at our folding table in the yard that connected our houses.

    "What''s up?" I asked Bob, who was parking his car in front of the house.

    "Oh, I didn''t tell you. We''re having a barbecue for the game," Bob explained, turning off the truck''s engine.

    "There he is, my star quarterback," Mr. Cooper said cheerfully beside the grill, along with a man I didn''t know.

    "Hello, Coach Cooper," I greeted the man who was handing Bob a beer.

    While Bob was greeting the man I didn''t know, I approached the table where Gabe, Missy, and Chicken Boy were sitting.

    Messing up Gabe''s hair, who was sitting reading one of his comic books, I took a seat next to him.

    "Hey, Missy, how are you?" I greeted the little girl who was playing with a doll.

    Missy didn''t respond to my greeting, got up from the table, and walked away huffing, bumping into Chicken Boy, who was sitting next to her.

    Surprised by the girl''s attitude, I silently asked my brother what had happened, receiving a shrug in response.

    "Hello," Chicken Boy said with a big smile, ignoring Missy storming off and bumping into him, greeting him back despite his strange attitude.

    "PJ, you finally join us. I thought this would be a dull evening," Sheldon said, arriving with his grandma, both being greeted by Chicken Boy in the same manner.

    "Evening," Gabe mocked softly, ignoring my brother''s weak jest. I greeted the little boy while getting up, nodding at Meemaw.

    "Aces," the elderly lady also nodded, silently asking a question that I obviously understood.

    "Be right back," I said to anyone who might hear me as I walked toward our house.

    Inside the house, I found Mom, Mrs. Cooper, and another woman who I imagined was Chicken Boy''s mother, all working in the kitchen, especially Mrs. Cooper and the blonde woman.

    "PJ, you''re back!" Mom said excitedly as she came out of the kitchen. "How was your date with Regina?" she asked suggestively, raising her eyebrows, causing Mrs. Cooper to crane her neck while she continued to chop vegetables in a poor attempt to appear nonchalant, trying to eavesdrop.

    Mom''s nonchalant attitude, as always, managed to get a weak laugh out of me. "It was good, Mom, thanks," I told the excited woman. "Hello, Mrs. Cooper," I greeted the other woman who exaggerated my fake amusement, pretending to be surprised by my presence. "Oh, hi, PJ. Good of you to join us. Dinner is almost ready," the woman said sweetly.

    "Pleasure to meet you, ma''am," I also greeted the woman, who simply smiled kindly, sipping from a glass.

    "Thanks, Mrs. Cooper," I replied to the kind woman. "I''ll be right back, Mom. I need to put some things away. Excuse me," I said, separating myself from the women, hastening my pace to my room, where I had all my money stored in my desk. Using the envelope that Bob had given me, I counted the money before stashing it along with the money Bob had handed me.

    In total, with the bets I had made at the hospital, the money I was saving from the allowance Bob had given me these weeks, the money that PJ had hidden in his dirty clothes, and the thousand dollars Bob had given me, I had three thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars. I wrote the amount on a piece of paper along with the name to whom the bet was directed and stored it with all the bills, securely closing the envelope, which was now much bulkier than before, hiding it in my pants and covering it with my shirt.

    Leaving my room, I found the house empty. Everyone was probably in the backyard. Fist-bumping Georgie, I sat back down next to my brother. In front of me, Meemaw was explaining something to Sheldon. When the elderly woman and I made eye contact, I nodded, stretching the envelope with money under the table. Understanding, Meemaw took the envelope from under the table, nodding in complicity.

    The last people to arrive were Teddy, Missy, and a little girl. They seemed to be talking about something in secret, occasionally glancing at me with annoyance, especially Missy, while Teddy laughed.

    "Alright, who''s ready for some burgers?" Bob asked from the grill, which he shared with Mr. Cooper and the other man.

    "I am," a little voice said before anyone else, surprising us all. I quickly turned and found the little boy I had to accompany the last time Gabe brought friends.

    Surprised by the sudden appearance of a little boy, everyone fell silent. "Who''s he?" Sheldon finally broke the silence, asking bluntly.

    "Dewey," I finally remembered the name the shirtless man had mentioned.

    "Yes?" the boy asked, with a small innocent smile.

    "What are you doing here, little buddy?" I asked the boy as I stood up.

    "Your parents will be really worried, little one," Mrs. Cooper also got up.

    "No," the boy, no older than five, said calmly as he approached the table.

    "PJ," Mom said worriedly from her spot, "do you know where his house is, right?" Mom also got up.

    "Yes," I said, amused, as the boy took the opportunity to sit down calmly, waiting for a burger, smiling quietly at Sheldon, who gave him a less friendly look, surprised by his presence.

    "What if we invite his family?" Mom asked, specifically focusing on the parents who were at the grill, supported by the other two women.

    Bob, checking the row where all the burger and sausage meat was, nodded. "Yes, there''s enough for more people," he said sincerely.

    "Alright, PJ, go and invite them, and don''t take no for an answer," Mom said sternly. "And someone give this little kid a burger," she continued, ordering.

    Not wanting to argue with the pregnant woman, I nodded and quickly left for what I remembered was the boy''s house.

    A few minutes later, I arrived at the house and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.

    From outside the door, I heard a woman yelling reprimands.

    As soon as the woman stopped yelling, the door opened, revealing the same woman who was surely shouting a few seconds ago, her brow furrowed. "What?" she asked irritably, obviously very annoyed.

    "Hello," I said nervously, the woman was intimidating. "Dewey is at my house," I continued quickly as the woman maintained an intimidating aura, raising an eyebrow.

    "What?" she asked incredulously, furrowing her brow even more if that was possible.

    "Who is it Honey?" the same man who had opened the door for me last time asked, fortunately wearing a shirt this time.

    "Hello, sir. Last week, I brought Dewey," I quickly explained as the woman''s brow furrowed more and more.

    "Ah, yes, I remember. How are you?" the man greeted before turning back inside his house.

    "What is Dewey doing in your house?" the woman asked, now much more upset.

    "I don''t know, he just showed up there, and my mom wanted to invite you to the barbecue. We''re basically new in town, and Mom wanted to meet more people. Dewey is with my family and some family friends," I quickly explained to the woman.

    Taking a deep breath, the woman seemed to be containing a lot of anger. After taking one last deep breath, the woman nodded with a smile. "Alright, we''d be happy to come. Thank you," she said with a kindly smile that, for some reason, sent shivers down my spine.

    After giving her the address of our house, I bid her goodbye and returned home.

    ---

    Glossary

    Labyrinthitis = Infection or viral or bacterial inflammation of the inner ear that can cause dizziness, loss of balance, and temporary loss of hearing.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, let alone a doctor.

    I''m cured, long live modern medicine!.

    I think that''s all, as always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 26

    When I arrived back home after a few minutes of walking, I found everyone, even the adult men, sitting at the table with grim expressions.

    The younger ones, in particular, were rigidly in their places. Gabe and Sheldon were the least affected by whatever had happened in my absence. One was reading a comic book, while the other was gazing into space with a calm smile.

    "PJ," Mom said, smiling cheerfully, "you''re here. What''s up with Dewey''s family?" she continued with interest.

    "His mother told me they''d be delighted to come. I gave them the address, and they said they would follow behind me," I explained to the now strangely cheerful woman.

    "Good, good" she nodded slowly. "We''re just waiting for them to come to have lunch," she continued, beaming at Bob, who mechanically nodded along with the other two present fathers.

    As I took a seat between Gabe and little Dewey, my brother leaned in and whispered, "Mom went a little crazy when you weren''t here," before slowly, even more slowly than he had approached, retreating to his original position to continue reading his comic with his back completely straight.

    Looking around the table, I could see that the majority were uncomfortably seated, forcing smiles.

    "So?" suddenly Georgie whispered, leaning over Dewey to speak with a suggestively wide smile.

    "What?" I asked, intrigued by my strange friend.

    "Oh, you know, your date with Regina," he said, even more suggestively, pursing his lips and exaggerating a disgusted sound as he hugged himself.

    "Ew," my younger brother said with disgust, still with his comic book open but paying special attention to our conversation.

    In a small bout of embarrassment, as my silly friend was drawing the attention of the adults on the other side of the table, I lightly tapped Georgie''s side to get him to stop his annoying mime.

    "Come on, we''re friends. Tell me what happened," Georgie continued after recovering from the rib nudge.

    Shaking my head in defeat, I began to tell Georgie, still over the big-eared boy''s head, how the date went.

    "So, you just talked?" he asked incredulously after I explained the more mundane parts of the date, skipping over the parts about Sarah and the end of the date.

    "Well, yeah, more or less," I said, trying to downplay the significance of the date. A moment later, Mom stood up excitedly, "They''ve arrived," she said, smiling and pointing to the end of the garden.

    At a small shabby truck parked in front of our house, a moment later, three more children and two adults, presumably their parents, emerged.

    As the new family approached, the adults got up from the table to greet the newcomers.

    "Do we have to get up too?" Gabe asked, frowning as he watched the adults introducing themselves.

    "No, Gabe," I assured him as I stood up. "But if you don''t want Mom to get mad, I suggest you do," I joked with the child as I ruffled his hair.

    "Those are my brothers," Dewey suddenly pointed to the kids a few steps away from us.

    The older boy from the new family, hearing Dewey, furrowed his brow as he approached the table.

    When he was an arm''s length away from Dewey, the older boy began to press the little boy''s head. "Mom scolded us because of you," he said, obviously annoyed, ignoring the uncomfortable sounds the little boy made.

    Despite being older than Dewey, Gabe, or Sheldon, the new boy seemed even smaller from my perspective. He didn''t appear much older than Teddy, possibly around thirteen or twelve.

    Taking his forearm and easily separating it from the little boy''s head, I quickly took his hand and gave it a quick shake. "Hey, nice to meet you, I''m PJ Duncan," I quickly said to the boy, who hadn''t seemed to notice my presence until that moment. Even though he was probably a few years younger than me, my head towered over his several times, making him lift his head to see my face.

    "Francis," he quickly replied, avoiding my gaze and trying to get his hand back unsuccessfully.

    Pulling the boy by the hand, causing him to slightly lose his balance on his feet, I leaned down to be at eye level with him. "Nice to meet you, Francis," I said with a big smile. "How about you sit next to my friend Georgie over there?" I continued, nodding my head toward my friend, who, understanding his role, smiled threateningly at Francis, or at least attempted to. "Burgers will be ready in a moment," I continued, capturing his attention again with a pat on the boy''s shoulder and letting go of his hand to push him gently to the other side of Georgie.

    "And who are you two?" I also smiled at the other two boys who came with Francis.

    "Hi, my name is Reese, nice to meet you, sir," said the taller of the two, raising his hand with a smile that for some reason didn''t feel natural in the child.

    Shaking the boy''s hand, I waited for the other to introduce himself.

    "Malcolm," he said with a small friendly smile, but still uncomfortable.

    "Well, Reese, Malcolm, nice to meet you," I said, smiling at the boys. "This is Gabe, my brother," I said, pointing to Gabe, who, still in his place at the table, returned the greeting by nodding his head.

    "On that side of the table are Missy, Chicken Boy, Teddy, and..." I continued, pointing at each child until I reached the little girl.

    "She''s Bobbi Sparks, and I''m Sheldon Cooper," Sheldon intervened.

    "That''s right, well, in case you didn''t hear me a moment ago when I was talking to your brother, I''m PJ Duncan," I told the two boys.

    The taller one quickly adapted, sitting in a free space at the table and starting to talk and get acquainted with Gabe, while the shorter one still seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

    The four siblings were very different from each other. The eldest, Francis, quickly ignored any fear that Georgie might have instilled, sitting next to my friend and with him the both of them completely enthralled by my sister, who simply ignored them, entertained by playing with Missy and the little girl I now knew as Bobbi.

    The youngest one was completely calm, sitting with his arms at his sides, completely undisturbed by what was happening around him, engrossed in his own world smiling and slowly shaking his head as if he could hear something that the others couldn''t.

    Reese and Malcolm were also different from each other, but surely, due to their smaller age gap, they had similar topics to discuss with Gabe.

    "PJ, come here," I suddenly heard Bob shout from the grill, where again all the adult men were waiting.

    Leaving my place at the table, I approached.

    "What''s up?" I asked, smiling at the new man there.

    "I was talking with Hal about a job for you, I recommended you because you are quite responsible" Bob said, obviously proud, puffing out his chest.

    Intrigued, I looked at the now known Mr. Hal, who was smiling oddly with a beer in his hand. "Hal Wilkerson," the man said, stretching his hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilkerson. I''m PJ Duncan," I quickly responded, shaking his hand.

    "Your dad was telling me that you were looking for a job," the man said, leaning in a bit.

    "Yes, I have a lot of extracurricular activities, but I usually have weekends free," I said, trying to be as friendly as possible.

    "It''s very hard to find capable babysitters," the man said, pausing to think for a moment. "So maybe you''d like to babysit on some weekends," he said, a little nervously.

    "Sure, that wouldn''t be a problem," I said to the man, who, for some strange reason, seemed relieved.

    "I''d offer Georgie," Mr. Cooper, who was also sipping his beer with one hand on his back, said, "but, well," he said, a bit defeated, refocusing on the grill.

    "You could also look after my kids," the other man present said, "Herschel Sparks," he continued quickly introducing himself, "one night a week to spend with our ladies, to keep the flame alive," he said, shaking his head with a big smile.

    Mr. Cooper and Bob immediately laughed in agreement with Mr. Sparks, while Mr. Wilkerson took a few seconds, putting on an obvious fake laugh, trying to imitate the other men.

    Seemingly ignoring my presence, the men began to talk about other things among themselves. Slowly fading from their fields of vision, I returned to my seat at the table.

    "Not true," I heard Sheldon say, annoyed.

    "It is true," Malcolm said, supported by Gabe and Reese.

    "What''s going on?" I asked as I sat down.

    "PJ, these," Sheldon said, pointing at the kids in front of him, searching for the word to define them, "tricksters," he finally said, "are saying that Stephen Hawking came to the elementary school to give a lecture," he continued, offended.

    "It''s true, he talked to us about a new theory that contradicts his own black hole theory, only we can''t discuss it because we signed a Non-disclosure agreement," Malcolm quickly said.

    "So you''re already breaking one of the agreements by telling me," Sheldon retorted haughtily.

    "No, one of the contract clauses specified the ability to talk about Dr. Hawking''s lecture, but not its content," Malcolm quickly countered.

    Feeling cornered, Sheldon didn''t know what to do, seeing the other kids'' sinister smiles, I couldn''t help but let out a small laugh, catching the attention of the little genius boy.

    "PJ," Sheldon said hopefully, "it''s not true, right?" the boy asked from the other side of the table, looking concerned.

    Seeing the boy''s face, I couldn''t help it as I shook my head, causing the boy to celebrate and the other kids to look at me in disappointment. "Well, at least I don''t think so, Sheldon. I don''t follow the career of Stephen Hawking," I said, making the cheerful boy lose his smile. "What are the chances that such a well-known scientist would come to Medford? Surely not zero," I continued as I picked up a bottle of ketchup from the table and read its label.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Sheldon lost his smile, furrowing his brow as he stood up. "My mom will surely know, she has connections with the city''s pastor," the boy said as he quickly left with his mother, making the other kids laugh.

    Looking at Gabe with a fake expression of disappointment, I tried hard to hold back my laughter.

    "Oh, come on, PJ, it''s a funny joke," Gabe said when he noticed my gaze.

    "Yes, that was fun. I can''t believe I fell for it, the current top exponent of theoretical physics here in Medford," Malcolm said ironically, also laughing.

    Malcolm was strange, he spoke unusually well for a boy his age, and he knew about scientists that only Sheldon and I knew.

    Seeing the boy, who had lost all inhibitions while laughing, I wanted to do a quick test. Still holding the condiment bottle, I pretended to read it more closely, "it has thirty-seven grams of sugar per one hundred grams serving," I said, placing the sugar in front of me, loudly drawing the attention of the other kids at the table. "I wonder how much sugar is in this five hundred and sixty-seven grams bottle," I said, pretending it was an inconsequential question, paying attention to the little boy who seemed puzzled, furrowing his brow like all the other kids at the table before continuing with their conversation. Seems he doesn''t know.

    A few moments later, Sheldon returned to the table with his head held high, snorting with sarcasm.

    When the burgers were ready, the game had started, Bob and Mr. Cooper had pulled the television from our living room with extensions to watch the game.

    The Wilkerson family seemed to be the least interested in sports, along with the mothers and the chicken boy.

    When the game ended much later, everyone had finished their burgers, the children who had been sitting for a long time seemed to have accumulated a lot of energy, especially active in their seats, talking and laughing among themselves.

    "Do you want to play with the ball a bit?" I asked the energetic children, receiving excited affirmations as they quickly got up, including Francis, who was forcibly lifted by Georgie, preventing the younger boy from getting too close to Teddy.

    Smiling at the present mothers, I slowly walked behind the excited children who followed Gabe, running for the ball.

    Malcolm, who was the last to stand up, calmly walked by my side. "Two hundred nine point seventy-six grams," he said quietly, taking me by surprise before running after the other children.

    I knew it.

    Together with the Wilkerson children, Georgie, and the chicken boy, we played a few plays, throwing the ball and trying to stop whoever was to receive the ball at that moment.

    The day continued until the sky turned black. The Wilkersons were the first to leave on Mrs. Wilkerson''s orders, not giving any room for debate. It seemed the children had fun as they grumbled, following their mother into the shabbily maintained van, the woman had her hands pressed on Dewey''s shoulders as she made the boy say goodbye and thank you for the hospitality.

    They were followed by the Sparks, who, needing to check on their chickens, walked to their house on the other side of the Cooper family.

    Mrs. Cooper helped Mom bring in the necessary things, while Georgie, Gabe, and I took care of putting the chairs in our garage, followed by the folding table.

    When there was nothing left to store besides Bob''s grill, the Cooper children said their goodbyes on their mother''s orders to prepare for bed, as there was a church service the next day. Missy once again intentionally ignored me as she huffed and walked out of our yard.

    After Bob and Mr. Cooper extinguished the remaining embers of the grill and with effort moved it out of the front yard of the house, only Meemaw and I were left on our porch.

    With a serious look, Meemaw leaned slightly, "are you sure about this, Aces? There''s still a chance for you to retire," she said, taking out my envelope from her purse. "It''s okay, Meemaw, I have a good feeling about Douglas," I said, trying to look as serious as possible.

    Shaking her head in defeat, Meemaw sighed before saying, "Tyson is undefeated, Aces," looking at me with a raised eyebrow, trying to convince me. "I know, Meemaw, but still, I have a hunch that Douglas is going to win," I said, trying to show confidence. I really didn''t know if in this life as in the previous one the fight would happen the same way, I hoped it did.

    "As your wish, Aces," Meemaw said defeated as she turned around. "I''ll be back on Wednesday, Aces, with a check or with an ''I told you so''," she continued, raising her hand in farewell.

    Amused by the older woman''s actions, I entered the house.

    At the kitchen door, Mom was bidding farewell to Mrs. Cooper, who was insistently trying to stay and help clean up the pregnant woman. "It''s not necessary, Mary, go with Sheldon and Missy, they''re probably waiting for you," Mom said as she pushed Mrs. Cooper out of the house.

    "But-" Mrs. Cooper was saying, "no, nothing," Mom interrupted her.

    "Good night, Mrs. Cooper, don''t worry, I''ll help Mom," I said to the woman as I opened the door for Mom to push her out of the house.

    "Okay, all right, see you later, Amy, PJ, good nigth" the woman said, bidding farewell as she accepted her defeat, leaving the house on her own.

    Closing the door, Mom immediately let out a sigh. "I like her, but there''s too much to hear about God, and then there''s Mary Cooper," Mom said, laughing slightly as she walked to the kitchen, followed by me.

    While we were washing the used utensils, Mom nudged me with her shoulder. "You''re a very good boy, PJ," Mom said in a strange tone. "And now the girls are starting to notice. I''m sure you''ll have a lot of them after you in no time," she continued with what I now recognized as a nasal voice. "And one day you''ll choose one to marry and start a family," she said, now crying. "I just hope she''s a kind girl who appreciates you for who you are, a very well educated boy with a great future" she continued while sniffing.

    Uncomfortable with the situation and not really sure what to do, I reached out my arm to give Mom a sideways hug, and she immediately clung to my body, bursting into tears. I stroked her arm in an attempt to calm her down and decided not to make any comments to the obviously hormonal pregnant woman.

    "Sweetheart..." Bob said cheerfully and excitedly as he entered the house, interrupted by the scene.

    "Oh, you had to come in shouting and ruin the moment," in an impressive change of emotions, Mom was completely furious at Bob''s intrusion, raising her hands as she left the kitchen.

    Surprised, both Bob and I looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting into a complicated laugh. "Come on, son, we have to turn all that hamburger fat into muscle," Bob said, stifling his laughter as he flexed his arms.

    "Yeah," I said as I dried the last plate in the sink.

    Bob was once again the first to enter the garage, turning on the light. "Gabe won''t be coming today, he''s already ready to sleep," he explained as he picked up a disc and put it on the bar.

    After finishing spotting for Bob, it was my turn under the bar. "Ready?" asked a sweaty Bob.

    After nodding to the man, he helped me remove the bar from the safety of the rack. "One," Bob said when I raised the bar again, "so your mom wants me to do this now, two," he continued the count, "I know it can be a bit uncomfortable, but it''s better to talk about it before something can happen, three." I didn''t understand what Bob was trying to say.

    Apparently noticing my puzzled expression amid my effort, Bob explained, "Well, when a girl and a boy really like each other, there may come a time when they have, certain desires," Bob said, and I immediately understood what was going to happen. For a moment, my grip on the bar loosened, causing Bob, as a good spotter, to quickly intervene. "Whoa, be careful there," said the man, who with effort and a little help from me lifted the bar to the safety stops.

    I was about to say something, but a bad swallow of saliva made me start coughing, choking on my own breath.

    "This is something that every father has to talk to his sons about at some point, and I think now is your time," Bob said, patting my back to help with my coughing fit.

    Moving to the side of the bench, Bob sat down beside me and gave me ''the talk.''

    I had never experienced this kind of embarrassment. I had studied enough anatomy classes to know how human reproduction works; heck, I might even know better than Bob how it works. Certainly, I had no practical experience, and Bob did. There were at least four pieces of evidence of that. But that didn''t mean I felt comfortable talking to him about it.

    After assuring him countless times, embarrassed, that I would always be careful with protection, Bob set me free from ''the talk'' to continue exercising. In the end, Bob left the garage with a smile, tapping me with his hand towel. "Just remember what we talked about here," he said, amused, entering the house.

    What happened that night would be something I would never forget, even if I wanted to.

    After wiping the sweat off my body and going through my nightly routine before bed, I entered my dark room, finding my brother already asleep. Without wanting to disturb him, I quietly closed the door to the room and walked in the darkness to my bed, quickly falling asleep from physical and mental exhaustion, especially mental.

    The next day, being Sunday, I woke up much later than usual, without the need to get up early for the daily run. Gabe was no longer in his bed. When I left my room, I found Gabe eating breakfast cereal while watching television. Following his example, I entered the kitchen to greet Mom and Teddy, who were having breakfast at the kitchen table, took a bowl of oatmeal with a banana, and returned to the living room.

    Slightly nudging my brother''s head, I sat down next to him on the couch. Gabe didn''t take his eyes off the TV for a second and simply ignored my action as he put another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

    "Good morning to you too, shorty," I said, also eating my breakfast.

    "Ah, yeah, sure," the boy said without taking his eyes off his program. It was a cartoon; I remembered seeing it in my past life. Four friends and a talking dog solving mysteries. Unknowingly, I also got caught up in the story of the funny cartoon.

    The sound of the house phone and then Mom''s shouts calling me brought me out of my daydream in the TV. "PJ, phone!" Mom shouted again from the kitchen.

    Leaving the plate on the small table in the living room, I entered the kitchen to answer the phone after thanking Mom.

    "Hello," I greeted on the other end of the phone, "SuperStar," I heard Brock''s cheerful voice. "Hey Brock, good morning," I greeted my friend back, "so, do you want to go see the car?" Brock asked.

    "Yeah, sure," I responded, not really caring much. I didn''t know much about cars anyway; any car would be fine.

    "Great, we''ll pick you up in half an hour, SuperStar," Brock said on the other end of the line. "Pick me up?" I asked my friend. I thought Bob or Mom would have to take me again.

    "Yeah, Dad offered to take you," my friend explained. "Okay, then, see you here, thanks" I said as I looked at the clock hanging in the kitchen. "See you later," my friend said before hanging up the call.

    "Where are you going?" Teddy asked, being reprimanded by Mom with a light tap on the shoulder, making the teenager look annoyed at the pregnant woman.

    Quietening her daughter with a facial expression, Mom turned her body back to face me. "Where are you going?" she asked, making Teddy open her mouth in disbelief.

    "I''m going with my friend Brock''s uncle. He''s selling his old car, and I want to see it," I explained, amused.

    Raising her eyebrow, Mom nodded slightly. "Do you have money for a car?" she asked as she stood up.

    "Yes," I quickly responded, a little nervous, making Teddy mock me.

    Ignoring Teddy''s laughter, Mom approached, putting her hand on my shoulder and moving me out of the kitchen. "If you need it, you can ask your father, and if he doesn''t want to, I have a little saved up," she whispered as we were outside the kitchen.

    Surprised by her sudden acceptance, I stopped for a second. "I thought you deserved it. The nurses talk, and so do the teachers. According to George, all your teachers adore you," the pregnant woman said proudly. "Besides, you have a lovely girlfriend; you need a great car," she continued before quickly moving away from me. "Bathroom," she explained as she walked quickly.

    The fact that the woman was so proud of me, along with the pride that Bob had shown me, squeezed my chest with a pleasant feeling.

    "What are you doing?" Gabe asked amused, pulling me out of my trance as he sat from the living room couch a few steps away from me.

    "Nothing, Frodo," I replied as I took my plate and garbage to the kitchen.

    Preparing myself for when Brock and his father would come for me, took me long enough for it to be time.

    "PJ, someone''s at the door for you!" I heard Gabe shout.

    In the living room, Gabe was once again sitting watching cartoons while the front door of the house was open, with Brock under the frame awkwardly waiting.

    "Hey," I greeted my friend as I left the house, receiving a fist bump from him. "Hey SuperStar," my friend said as he guided me to his father''s car.

    The not so luxurious but well-kept car of his father was parked on the curb at the end of our yard. Brock entered through the passenger door, allowing me to open the back door to get in. "Good morning, sir-" I said, surprised because the man I found behind the wheel, being a completely different specter from his son, was a giant mass of muscle. His chest was so big that it seemed like his shirt would burst at any moment, he had muscles in his shoulders that I didn''t know could inflate that way, his neck had muscles in his muscles. In short it was a little scary.

    The man, with a big smile beneath his mustache, turned, stretching his impressively muscular hand. "Wayde Kingman, Joe has spoken a lot about you, kid," the man said, surprisingly friendly, still maintaining his pleasant smile as we shook hands.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, much less a doctor.

    The other day, I watched the miniseries based on the world of John Wick, The Continental. I highly recommend it; I liked it a lot.

    A few things I would like to clarify:

    1. I am not 100% satisfied with my way of writing the Wilkerson family, but I hope to improve over time.

    2. I know canonically Malcolm''s last name is supposed to be Nolastname, but Wilkerson also exists, so that''s what I''m going to choose. I hope you agree with me when you see that it''s the better of the two.

    3. Brock turned out to be someone "known" in the future, who is he?

    Halloween passed, I dressed up and got drunk, but I also handed out candy. It was a bittersweet feeling to be the one handing out the candy now. I had never done it before; my family used to take care of it before the pandemic, but now it''s up to me.

    That being said.

    I think that''s all, as always, if you find any mistakes, please let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, The title will change after a few hours, I realized that a big part of this site to attract readers is the name of the chapters, I will try to do it this way.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 27

    "Joe?" I asked the muscular man after our handshake.

    "Yeah, Joe Borck Kingman," my friend replied from the passenger seat with a broad smile, nodding to the rhythm of Elvis Presley''s songs playing on his father''s car speakers as we started moving down the street.

    After releasing a quick and genuine laugh, probably due to my ignorance about his son''s name, Brock''s father, still focused on the road, said, "Joe has told me you''re the best in his year, and judging by the last game, it''s obvious you have talent for football. Your parents must be very proud."

    "Yeah, they are," I said, trying not to sound boastful as I thanked the man for his kind words. "Brock is also a great player. Without him as Offensive Guards, I doubt we could have won," I continued, doing my best to compliment my friend in front of his imposing father.

    My attempt seemed to work, as Mr. Kingman proudly placed his hand on Brock''s shoulder, giving him a few pats. "Yes, he always wanted to play as a quarterback. It was his dream, but..." the man continued, suddenly falling silent at the end and staying still for a few seconds.

    Snapping out of his trance, he withdrew his hand, gripping the steering wheel with both hands again. Brock, who until a few seconds ago was cheerfully moving to the music, turned his body to the right window, falling silent and looking outside the car thoughtfully.

    The overall atmosphere inside the car changed completely. From the back seat, I could feel the discomfort of the sudden silence we had plunged into. I didn''t know if the man cut off the incomplete sentence because I got the position or if there was another reason behind the apparent discomfort regarding the topic.

    A few minutes later, with only the music still playing through the car speakers, Brock seemed to remember something. Quickly snapping out of his strange mood shift and turning, still seated in his chair, to face me, he asked suggestively, "So?"

    Understanding my friend''s silent question because I remembered the same look in Georgie and feeling relieved as the atmosphere inside the car had changed, I amusingly denied the need my friends had to know about my love life.

    After telling Brock and his suddenly interested father a summary of my date with Regina, the three of us began talking about the game from the day before. We discussed the incredible plays from both teams throughout the match, specifically the actions of the quarterbacks from both teams, the best scores, and the riskiest blocks.

    This was something I could add to my list of things I had missed in my past life ¨C having conversations about common interests with friends was surprisingly liberating. Being part of discussions outside the medical field was entirely new to me. Of course, I had given my opinion a few times in discussions my friends had in this life, but nothing like such a personal conversation.

    Before I knew it, we had arrived at a house with a large "For Sale" sign in front and an obviously covered car parked in front of the garage. "We''re here," Mr. Kingman said as he parked his car on the curb in front of the house. "I still can''t believe you don''t want the car, Joe," he continued with a hint of disappointment in his voice as he opened the car door on his side and stepped out.

    Following the man out of the car along with my friend, "I''ve told you, I''m more into big and spacious trucks," my friend said somewhat exasperatedly as he closed the passenger door.

    "As you say. There''s a beauty in muscle cars, and someday you''ll see it," the man said as he walked towards the house.

    "Then why don''t you buy it for yourself?" my friend asked, gaining my interest in the answer as we followed his father to the porch of the house. It was true; if the man desired the car so much, why not offer to buy it from his brother?

    "Of course, I want to," the man said, as if the idea of not wanting it offended him. "But your mother would kill me," he continued suddenly nervous. I couldn''t imagine what kind of woman could intimidate such a mountain of a man. "Besides, today we''re here to show it to PJ, and being optimistic, he might offer to buy it," the man continued, smiling in defeat after knocking on the door of the house.

    A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing the comically opposite figure of Mr. Kingman, a small man not necessarily out of shape but not muscular either, with a goatee and large round glasses resting on his nose. "Rocky," the small man said cheerfully as he exited his house to embrace his enormous brother.

    "Big brother," Mr. Kingman said, bending down to fraternally hug the smaller man, taking me by surprise and almost causing a loud laugh to escape my lips. "And who is this? You must be Junior," the small man continued after separating from Mr. Kingman, putting his hand on my friend''s shoulder. "Hi, Uncle Kev," my friend said with a strange forced smile. "Joey," the small man continued cheerfully, trying to lightly tap the side of my friend''s face since my friend was a few heads taller than him.

    After greeting my friend, the small man quickly turned, losing his smile when he faced me.

    With an obviously forced evaluative look, the man approached slowly until he was an arm''s length away from me. "So..." he said as he looked me up and down, "do you drink?" he suddenly asked seriously. I quickly shook my head, causing the small man to nod slowly while taking another step, getting even closer to me. "That''s good," he continued with a creepy little smile on his face.

    The man comically opened his eyes, staring into mine, having to lift his face, contorting his neck to do so, since like everyone else, I was a few heads taller than the small man.

    While the small man looked into my eyes, the other two people present did not speak or move. Following their example, I also remained silent, waiting for whatever the man was doing to end quickly.

    A few seconds after staring into my eyes, the man nodded vigorously while extending his hand. "All right, you can have Debbie," the man said with a pleasant smile.

    Releasing a sigh of air that I didn''t know I was holding, I felt relieved as I extended my hand as well.

    Before I could react, the small man, losing his smile and quickly, forcefully grabbed my hand, pulling my body down. "Listen well, Debbie is a princess, and as such, you have to treat her well. She''s been around for many years, so you''ll need to fix a couple of things ¨C paint, tires, discs, and interiors. Unfortunately, I won''t be able to take Debbie with me wherever I go, so you have to take care of her," the man said slowly and quietly, his face inches from my ear, in what I could imagine was a silent threat.

    After what I could imagine was a silent threat, the man suddenly let go of my hand again, giving a big smile. "Well, let''s go see her," he said as he walked to his car, followed by Mr. Kingman, who was strangely excited.

    Looking at my friend, with whom I was left behind, I silently asked with my eyes what had happened, receiving an equally silent apology as we followed the adults.

    "The engine is a 396 cubic inch V8 with 6.5 liters," the small man said as he caressed the car''s lining. "It has a four-speed manual transmission, independent front suspension, and a solid rear axle," he continued, leaning his forehead against the car. "A top speed of 110 miles per hour, 0 to 60 in 6.1 seconds," he finished by kissing what would be the top of the passenger door.

    After the man whispered something to the car that we couldn''t distinguish, he turned with a proud look and what I could distinguish as a small tear in his eye. "What do you think, kid?" he asked with one hand still on the car.

    I didn''t know what to answer. Of everything the man said, I only understood the speed-related part. I had no idea about cars or their specifications, but seeing the seriousness of the man, I could only nod slowly. "A great car," I said, hopeful that it was a good response.

    "A great car!?" the man shouted completely surprised, turning to his brother with disbelief. "A great car!" he repeated, pointing at me, sharing incredulous smiles with his brother.

    "It''s the best car!" he said, shouting, the small man raising his hands, supported by Mr. Kingman.

    Taking the car''s lining with both hands, the small man quickly pulled it off, revealing ''Debbie'' ¨C a black car.

    Certainly, I could see why people might like it. It had an aerodynamic design and a ''tough'' appearance with two white lines on the car hood as decoration, but beyond that, I didn''t get it.

    Exclaiming in surprise, Mr. Kingman approached the car along with his brother to get a better look. "So many memories," the man said, smiling at his brother. "Remember all the girls you had in this car, big bro?" Mr. Kingman asked proudly, lightly tapping the smaller man''s shoulder. "Of course, Jet Kingman and Debbie saw so much together," the small man said nostalgically, coming out of his memories.

    Returning from his memories, the man turned to me again. "Come, take a closer look," he said excitedly, urging me to approach.

    When I was close enough to the car, I noticed many details that I hadn''t seen before. Areas along the car where the paint was worn out, the tires seemed not to have been changed in a long time, the interior had patches in many places, one of the mirrors was cracked, and there were dents in the lower areas of the car body.

    "As I said, it has some things to fix," the man said again, putting his hand on the car. "But let''s hear the engine," he continued as if he had just remembered, quickly running to the other side of the car.

    After getting under the passenger side window before taking the steering wheel with one hand and turning the key.

    ''Debbie'' didn''t start on the first try, making strange sounds as the engine didn''t start its job. "It has to be done a couple of times," the man said from inside the car, somewhat embarrassed. Again, he tried, and the result was the same. This time, the man didn''t say anything, and he tried again.

    The engine came to life, making loudly mechanical sounds. Again, Mr. Kingman, contrary to his appearance, gave small jumps in place, completely excited by what he was seeing.

    "Now, listen to this, kid," said the small man from inside the car, revving the engine and making the exhaust pipes explode with an incredible sound. I was starting to understand more and more the interest these men had in the car; it was, in a word, awesome.

    After turning off the engine and closing the passenger window, the small man got out of the car. "Let''s talk business. I''ll be leaving on Friday, and I want Debbie to be in good hands by then," the man said, now with a much friendlier smile, while stroking his hands together.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    He couldn''t think I have the money now, right?

    A bit embarrassed, I looked at my friend Brock, who was standing beside me, strangely fixated on the car.

    "As a favor to you, a friend of my favorite nephew, I''ll give you Debbie for two thousand five hundred dollars," the man said with a big sales smile, stretching out his hand, expecting a handshake.

    Again, looking at my friend with concern, not receiving any response, I turned back to the man, who was sure I would want his car.

    Right now, I didn''t have the money, and I wasn''t sure about it. The gamble was a shot in the dark that I hoped would work, but if it didn''t, I wouldn''t have the money for a long time.

    My indecision seemed to worry the small man, who, for some reason, started to fidget nervously in place, still with his arm stretched out.

    "Okay, okay, you''re an incredible negotiator. two thousand is the lowest I can go," the man said, shouting defeatedly. I think he thought my hesitation was due to the price of the car, well, it actually was.

    Looking towards the house, the man became increasingly nervous. It seemed like he was scared someone would come out the door. "Alright, alright, you''re an amazing negotiator. Fifteen hundred and thats all I can drop," the man said, stretching his arm even further.

    Fifteen hundred dollars? It seemed like the man wanted to get rid of the car as soon as possible. It was very risky. Without the money secured, it could be foolish. Darn it.

    "I won''t have the money until Wednesday," I said, hiding the fact that I possibly wouldn''t have the money ever, actually.

    "That''s perfect," the man said, taking a quick step to shake my hand vigorously.

    A second later, the door of the house opened, revealing a woman with a furrowed brow. "Who''s it Kevin?" she asked, annoyed.

    "Love!" said the man with obviously fake joy, "It''s Rocky, Joey, and a friend of Joey," he continued, a bit nervously, smiling at his partner.

    "Ah, Rocky," said the woman cheerfully as she came out of her house to hug Mr. Kingman. "Hello, Margaret, how are you?" Mr. Kingman asked, returning the hug to the woman.

    "You know how things are, Rocky," said the woman affectionately. "Kevin doesn''t want to get rid of that damn junk, and the house buyers are being difficult," she continued, ignoring the pained cry of the small man a few steps from me.

    "Joey!" said the woman, separating from Mr. Kingman to hug my friend. "Aunt Margaret," my friend said, also hugging the lady. "Look at you, how handsome you''ve become," the woman continued, squeezing my friend''s face ribs, embarrassing him while giving me a half-closed-eyed look.

    Smiling at my friend, trying to be as sinister as possible to annoy him more, I almost burst into laughter when my friend did his best to pull away from the affectionate woman.

    "So, who do we have here?" said the woman, separating from Brock to greet me with a calm smile.

    "PJ Duncan, nice to meet you," I said, shaking hands with the woman.

    "Yes, PJ here is buying Debbie, dear. Isn''t that great?" the small man suddenly said, standing beside me.

    "Ah, finally getting rid of that old junk," the woman exclaimed, hugging her husband. "I thought I''d have to donate it to the church or send it to the junkyard," she continued, making the small man tremble at the idea of giving away his car.

    "No, it''s not necessary. PJ will come on Wednesday with the money to take Debbie," the small man said quickly, looking at me with pleading eyes.

    "Yes, sure, Wednesday," I agreed with the man, still unsure.

    After concluding the ''negotiations'' for the car named Debbie, the family said goodbye, and Mr. Kingman took me back home.

    At home, I explained to Bob what they had told me about the car and its conditions. He assured me that I got a good deal for that car in those conditions.

    "We can even take it to Herschel to fix whatever needs fixing before you get your license," Bob said after telling him about the car''s needs.

    "Herschel?" I asked the man.

    "Herschel Sparks, the neighbors on the other side of the Coopers. He has a workshop," Bob explained, returning his attention to the magazine he had in his hands. Oh, the father of the chicken boy.

    The day continued calmly. Gabe, who was in our room, showed me the comics that were originally owned by PJ, explaining to me about the superheroes that appeared and who they fought against.

    At the end of the day, as it was becoming a habit, Bob, Gabe, and I exercised in the garage, listening to Bob''s selected music.

    On Monday, I was surprised to find that Gabe no longer needed me to wake him up early to go running. A few seconds after I got out of bed, Gabe woke up completely on his own.

    As always, we warmed up in the front yard a few minutes before running our daily race together. Surprisingly, Gabe had managed to do one more lap around the street than usual before having to return home due to exhaustion.

    Having awakened a weak sense of competitiveness with my younger brother, I decided to also run a few more laps around the neighborhood before going inside the house to continue with my daily morning routine.

    Leaving the house with Bob after Mom and the kids had left on their own, we were a few steps from Bob''s horrible truck when he snapped his fingers and quickly returned to the house, saying, "I''ll be right back, PJ."

    Unable to get into the car since Bob had taken the keys with him, I waited by the truck, oddly noticing that the two Cooper cars were still parked in front of their house. Usually, they left a few minutes before Bob and me, so having both their cars still in front of the house was unusual.

    In the silence of the morning, only a few cars passed by the street, along with a few people jogging or walking their dogs. Today was going to be a quiet day; I was sure.

    A moment later, my sense of security went down when I heard Mrs. Cooper screaming desperately for help from the Cooper house. "George, Help!!!" the woman shouted.

    Fearing the worst, I decided to run to the Cooper house. Another heart attack just a week after one wasn''t very likely, but I highly doubted that Coach Cooper followed his doctor''s recommendations to the letter.

    When I reached the back door of the Cooper house, I opened it quickly without bothering to call first. If it was a medical emergency, there was no time for such an action.

    Inside the Cooper kitchen, the first person I found was Georgie, who was calmly eating from a jar of jam. For a fraction of a second, I thought my reaction had been unfounded until I found Coach Cooper pounding Sheldon''s back along with the distressed screams of Missy and an upset Mrs. Cooper who ignored my presence.

    It took me a second to figure out what was happening. "Don''t do that," I said when Coach Cooper was about to lift Sheldon, surprising both the man and the other family members.

    Leaving my backpack on the kitchen floor and quickly passing by my oblivious friend who continued licking jam off a knife, I positioned Sheldon on his feet. "This might hurt, buddy, but I need you to try to speak," I said as I prepared my hands to start the Heimlich maneuver. When I began the compressions, Coach Cooper, who understood what I was doing, stepped back a few steps while trying to calm down Mrs. Cooper, who was still agitated.

    "I''ll call 911," Mrs. Cooper said, quickly stepping away from her husband to grab the kitchen phone.

    A few quick inward and upward presses, and a piece of food flew out of Sheldon''s mouth. When it stopped, I could see a small sausage.

    "Oh, he spat it out," Mrs. Cooper shouted, hanging up the phone. "Sheldon, honey," she continued shouting as she approached her son running, "are you okay? Can you breathe?" she asked worriedly, getting down to Sheldon''s level, "say something," she urged the still very concerned woman.

    The boy, obviously breathless, took a few breaths, pointing at his brother, who continued eating without batting an eye.

    "You have to throw away that jam," the little boy finally said.

    "What are you talking about, sweetheart?" the woman said, relieved to see her son breathe.

    I knew what Sheldon was talking about. I had seen Georgie sticking the same knife he had just licked inside the almost new jar of jam. Unable to help it, I laughed at the incredible situation. The first thing the kid says after choking is that.

    "Are you okay, bud?" I asked the boy again, gaining the attention of the people in the house.

    "Oh, PJ," Mrs. Cooper shouted with tears in her eyes as she stood up, "thank you," she repeated several times, pulling me into her arms in a tight hug.

    "Look at that, two Coopers in a month," Coach Cooper also approached, putting his hand on my shoulder, "keep it up, kid, and we won''t need to go to the hospital anymore," he continued joking.

    Mrs. Cooper separated from our hug still with tears in her eyes as she laughed at her husband''s joke, "don''t talk nonsense, George," she said, laughing slightly.

    "Well, if what Bob says is true, in a few years, PJ here will be a doctor," Mr. Cooper said, smiling amused.

    "Thank you for saving my life, PJ," a more recovered Sheldon said with relief.

    "It''s nothing, buddy," I said to the kid again, kneeling down. "How do you feel? Can you breathe well?" I asked the child, bringing my ear close to his back.

    "Yeah, I feel fine" the kid said, understanding his part and taking a deep breath.

    Satisfied to hear no anomalies in his lungs, I stood up, facing the strange looks of the Cooper adults. "Oh, I heard normal breath sounds, which is a good indicator that air is circulating properly in the lungs. I didn''t notice any abnormal sounds that could indicate obstructions or additional breathing difficulties. It seems like everything is fine," I explained quickly and as clear as possible so that they could understand me.

    "Forget what I said, in a few months," Mr. Cooper said, with a strange smile.

    "Okay PJ, I forgive you," Missy suddenly said speaking as if she had no choice from her place at the kitchen table.

    "Thanks?" I responded, puzzled. What did I do?

    I couldn''t really figure out why the girl was thanking me because the kitchen door of the Coopers was knocked on. "George, Mary, is PJ in there?" It was Bob.

    Remembering the time, I quickly grabbed my backpack a few steps away from me.

    "Oh my God, look at the time," Mrs. Cooper said worriedly, while Mr. Cooper opened the door.

    "Dad," I said to Bob, who looked at me strangely in the Cooper kitchen.

    Laughing, Mr. Cooper greeted Bob, "You won''t believe what happened, Bob," Mr. Cooper said, "it happened again," he continued, even more amused as he explained, to my embarrassment, how he had been a ''hero,'' in his words.

    Mrs. Cooper, along with Missy and Sheldon, left earlier while Bob and Mr. Cooper chatted cheerfully, especially Bob.

    After the somewhat long chat between Bob and Mr. Cooper, we left the Cooper''s house, in Bob''s car on the way to school. Bob was driving with his chest puffed up and a goofy smile on his face.

    "Twice in a month, must be a record," he said to himself, laughing proudly. "How did you know how to do the maneuver?" Bob asked, surprised.

    "I read it in a book," I quickly lied.

    Bob burst into a loud laugh, continuing to drive while shaking his head with a big smile on his face.

    We arrived at school quite late; there was no one on the steps leading to the main entrance. "Have a good day, Dr. Duncan," Bob said ironically, laughing proudly when I got out of the truck.

    A bit embarrassed by all of Bob''s pride, I bid farewell to the man as I entered the school.

    Like outside the school, the hallways were completely empty. Upon entering my first period, English, like many days before, I received many stares. This time, as soon as my presence entered the classroom, people began to talk among themselves, whispering things and, again, looking at me completely surprised.

    "PJ, it''s strange for you to be late. Come in, come in," Mrs. McElroy said with a big smile.

    Thanking the woman with a quick nod, I was about to enter the classroom, relieved not to be reprimanded. "I hope PJ won''t be punished; he saved my life," Sheldon suddenly said, causing the whispers from my classmates to intensify.

    "What''s going on here, silence!" said the teacher, annoyed by all the whispers. "Is that true?" the teacher asked, addressing Sheldon.

    "Yes, he correctly applied the Heimlich maneuver and then checked that my lungs were in optimal condition," Sheldon explained haughtily, causing all my classmates to start whispering again.

    "Good thing PJ was there then," the teacher said, smiling kindly at me while indicating again with a hand gesture to enter the classroom.

    Trying to ignore my strangely long center of attention from my classmates, I took a seat next to Alan, who just nodded his head in greeting.

    "Hey, you didn''t tell me you saved a life," Brock whispered on the other side of Alan, leaning behind my silent friend.

    "That happened today, Joey," I told the teenager joking.

    "No, not Mini Cooper," he immediately responded.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, let alone a doctor. (I also know nothing about cars xD)

    I don''t know anything about cars, only that, like houses these days, it''s impossible to buy one. I don''t know what price a car like the one I described should have. If you''re wondering why that one and not another specific one, I watched the movie "Jack Reacher" with Tom Cruise (a good movie but completely different from the books), and I liked the car. I researched which one it was, and there you have it.

    I have to mention one thing. I remember in the early chapters of the story, I commented that Alan and Brock''s characters might be based on characters from the terrible movie (it really is a terrible movie) ''Facing the Giants.'' But now, Victor discovered that Brock is actually a character from another movie, Joe Kingman from ''The Game Plan,'' starring The Rock or Dwayne Johnson. Yes, it''s something I thought of recently because I saw a TikTok. Before, Brock''s character among the MC''s friends wasn''t so important, but now he''ll be a character that will appear again later. (Spoiler, also Alan and David, but that will be for the future :D)

    Brock''s father is inspired by Dwayne Johnson''s real father, Rocky Johnson, a fighter who in his "youth" was extremely muscular.

    That being said.

    I think that''s it; as always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 28

    Brock couldn''t continue and explain to me what he was talking about. The teacher, Ms. McElroy, tired of the constant whispers combined with the apparent disinterest of my classmates in the class, most of them strangely distracted by my presence, silenced the class by loudly whistling, startling the distracted teenagers.

    Satisfied with the result, the class continued with relative normality, except for the fact that some classmates still turned slightly to give me a quick glance and communicate with their desk neighbors through paper notes.

    Trying not to be bothered by the erratic behavior of my classmates, I paid the utmost attention to the English class, continuing my competition with Sheldon to answer the majority of possible questions.

    At the end of the class, along with my friends, we left the room heading to our next period.

    While walking through the school hallways, I could notice that, just like inside the classroom, a large number of people around us focused their attention on me, whispering, and some even rudely pointing at me.

    "What the hell is going on?" I asked, irritated more to myself than anything.

    "Oh, you don''t know," said Alan with a small laugh, apparently enjoying my unease.

    "OH!" exclaimed Brock, turning excitedly, cutting off his conversation with David and Georgie, "I forgot because of McElroy," he affirmed as he circled around Alan to stand on my other side, "you saved the cafeteria barista in front of the cinema," he said casually as if it were an uninteresting thing, "everyone is talking about it," he continued, strangely greeting a small group of girls who were staring intently in our direction, or more specifically, at me, "well done, she''s HOT," he said, returning to me with a smug smile on his face while raising his hand, expecting a high-five.

    Ignoring his hand, intrigued, I faced my friends, "how is it possible that they know about that?" I asked everyone surprised, "in the cafeteria, there were only a few elderly people, adults who I doubt recognize me, a couple of university students," I continued trying to remember who was present. I had been doing what House had asked me to do until Regina arrived, "oh," I said when I realized.

    "So tell me, Sherlock, what conclusion did you reach?" asked Alan playfully, changing his accent to a very pronounced English one.

    "It can''t be," I said incredulously, "it must have been only a few minutes in the morning, it''s impossible that she told the whole school at the same time. It''s not possible that suddenly everyone knows," I continued even more incredulous as we entered our next period''s classroom.

    "That''s high school gossip for you, my friend," said David amused as he took his seat.

    If rumors spread this fast in this era, what would happen in high schools with the invention of smartphones? Somewhat worried about future teenagers, I sighed as I sat next to Alan, who was already in his own seat.

    "What happened? I don''t understand," said Georgie completely intrigued in his place just behind us, apparently far from understanding the conversation. It made sense; he, like me, had arrived much later than the others.

    With a weak exclamation of excitement, Brock, who was next to Georgie, began to explain what had happened in the cafeteria, or at least tried to. The story was distorted, making me seem much cooler and more heroic than I remembered, even inventing things that never happened. From a fake fight with a university student who was trying to take advantage of a ''fainted'' barista to completely nonsensical medical procedures.

    "Is that what everyone is saying I did?" I asked incredulously and somewhat annoyed after Brock finished telling his version, "well, yes," said my friend with a big smile.

    "Well, it''s wrong, at least the majority of it is. I mean, I didn''t hit anyone, and I didn''t perform an emergency tracheotomy on Sarah; that''s nonsense," I quickly denied some stupid facts.

    "A what?" asked David, who, along with Brock and Georgie, shared a puzzled look, "opening the throat," I quickly explained, drawing with my finger on the front of my throat, "none of that happened. What really happened was that Sarah seemed to have a problem with her inner ear, and I helped her relax while the ambulance arrived at the cafeteria," I said quickly, speaking a bit louder on purpose so that people around me could hear and correct the idea that had formed in the school. I didn''t understand why Regina would change the story so much.

    Again, Alan laughed lightly, shaking his head slightly and leaning towards me, lightly hitting my shoulder, "possibly the story got altered as people told it. Don''t pay attention; surely in a few hours, they''ll forget about it."

    Nodding at my friend, a little less upset about the situation and grateful for his small show of support, I sat back in my chair to face our next teacher.

    The day continued, and as Alan had predicted, the sudden great interest in me had diminished considerably. But still, I wanted to know what Regina had told the entire school.

    At lunchtime, my friends and I quickly reached the cafeteria, where many people were already occupying seats. Among all the people, I couldn''t distinguish Regina because, at one of the central tables, strangely where Regina and her two friends always sat, it was completely empty. Knowing that they were probably in a cheerleader meeting, I ignored their absence and focused on the discussion Brock had started about the game from the day before.

    A few minutes later, I felt light taps on my shoulder. Turning to see who was calling me, I found Regina standing with a big smile, accompanied by her two friends. "What are you doing here, silly?" Regina asked with a big smile.

    "Hey, Regina," I greeted the teenager, "eating my lunch," I replied somewhat sarcastically, hiding the fact that I didn''t know the reason for her question. Did she want me to sit with her?

    "No," she laughed gently, putting her hand on my shoulder, "come to my table; you have to sit with me."

    I knew it. "But I''m with my friends," I told the teenager, pointing to my friends, who, for some reason, were looking at Regina expectantly, especially Brock, David, and Georgie; Alan was simply eating an apple.

    Returning my attention to Regina, I could see her contemplating for a few seconds before nodding, "they can come too, obviously," she said with a smile.

    Georgie, David, and Brock, for some reason, quickly celebrated by high-fiving each other and quickly stood up, taking their trays and walking towards Regina''s friends, trying to start a conversation with Karen.

    Getting up last, followed by my calm friend, I noticed how he returned a simple greeting, nodding to a slightly excited Gretchen, who greeted him cheerfully.

    Before moving on and following my friends, I held Regina back quickly but gently, grabbing her wrist, "can we talk for a moment?" I asked, pointing with a nod to the cafeteria door, "yes, sure," she responded with a big smile, advancing faster than me, letting go of my weak grip to quickly take my hand.

    Being basically dragged by Regina out of the cafeteria, we reached one of the hallways a few steps from the noisy cafeteria. Standing with her back against

    the lockers, Regina squeezed my hand a little harder, "so, what did you want to talk about?" she asked in a whisper while swaying slowly on her feet back and forth.

    "Did you talk to anyone about what happened in the cafeteria?" I asked strangely, making Regina lose her smile and let go of my hand.

    "What?" she asked, looking somewhat disappointed.

    "Yeah, many people have been pointing at me all day, and they explained that someone spread the rumor that there was a fight in the cafeteria, and I performed a surgical procedure on Sarah," I explained.

    "No, I didn''t say those lies. I told Karen and Gretchen about our date, but nothing else," she said quickly, a little agitated, "was that wrong?" she asked worriedly.

    "No, no," I replied immediately, "not at all. You can talk about your life with whoever you want," I assured her quickly, "it''s just that someone possibly overheard your conversation and altered some things," I explained, slowing down so it didn''t seem like I was upset.

    "Okay," she said with a big smile, immediately changing her attitude, "I''m a bit disappointed," she continued, losing her smile and wiping what was probably lint on my shirt''s shoulder.

    "Oh, why?" I asked sincerely.

    "I thought you brought me out here for something else," she said, adjusting my shirt''s collar.

    I didn''t understand what she was talking about. I specifically asked to talk out here; what other topic could be pending? Without really understanding, I stared at Regina, waiting for her to continue with her explanation. She had been with her hand on my shoulder for a long time, and the whole time we were here, she constantly sought eye contact. She had already adjusted my shirt collar several times and continued swaying slightly on her feet... oh.

    I understood.

    Without really knowing how to do it, hesitantly, I approached slowly. Apparently, it was what I thought because Regina quickly leaned, stretching to get closer too.

    Now more confident and armed with my two latest and only experiences, I quickly bent the last small space left to capture Regina''s lips, again being so close to Regina, I could smell her fruity perfume and a completely new tone of what I could imagine was her shampoo. The last two times had been completely by surprise, also quickly interrupted, so I hadn''t noticed with certainty the incredibly smooth texture of her lips.

    Caught in Regina''s embrace at the back of my neck, our bodies were very close. I felt a bit rigid with my arms at my sides. Slowly and feeling Regina''s reaction to my movements, I stopped my hands on her hips, pressing a little, causing Regina to increase her actions in the kiss.

    Completely trapped by the new sensations that the kiss was awakening, I began to ignore the surroundings, completely focused on Regina''s warm lips, intensifying the kiss, simply following my instincts, exploring my very new affection when suddenly, "cough," I heard behind me, quickly separating from Regina, feeling embarrassed. I found only two girls, one of them Kat, who looked particularly upset with her friend.

    "Hey Kat," I greeted the girl, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught in that situation. Kat, who was at that moment playfully hitting her friend''s shoulder, completely ignored me again as she quickly dragged the other girl away. It seemed she was embarrassed by the interruption caused by her friend.

    Finding it somewhat amusing now that the surprise of being discovered had passed, I turned to a surprisingly annoyed Regina, who continued to gaze at the two girls rapidly walking down the hallway. Before either of us could say anything, the bell for the next period rang loudly through the hall, followed by a stampede of people rushing through the corridors.

    "Time''s up," I joked with the now disappointed girl, who nodded slightly, separating from the lockers.

    "Regina!" I heard Karen''s shout, which I immediately recognized, making Regina quickly separate from me to walk with her friends, discussing something in hushed whispers.

    Feeling a bit awkward in front of my pants, I walked through the hallways towards my locker to get what I needed for the next period.

    To my surprise and annoyance, people started pointing and whispering again, laughing slightly.

    In my locker, my friends were already there, still talking among themselves, each in front of their own locker.

    "Hey SuperStar, well done!" exclaimed an excited Brock as he raised his hand for a high five. This time, I didn''t ignore his greeting and repeated it with David and Georgie, who were also strangely celebrating. Ignoring the reason behind the celebration, I opened my locker to get my things.

    "It''s happening again, seems like the rumor spread during lunch," I told Alan, who was beside me with a strange half-smile.

    "Yeah..." he said, drawing out the word. "Or it could be the fact that you look like this," he continued calmly, pointing at my face.

    Unable to see my own face, I didn''t understand my friend''s hint.

    Apparently understanding my ignorance, Alan pointed behind me, where Georgie''s locker was open. On the door of the locker, Georgie had a piece of mirror attached, clean enough to show my reflection. I immediately understood why they were pointing again¡ªmy lips were somewhat swollen and definitely stained with what I could assume was Regina''s lip gloss.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    As before, I immediately felt embarrassed. I had paraded through the school hallways in this way as if trying to show off in some manner. Quickly and eagerly, I wiped my mouth with the side of my hand, achieving small and almost imperceptible results.

    Although I could see my reflection, I silently asked Alan if it had worked, receiving a hearty laugh as my friend, ignoring me, moved on.

    "I don''t understand why you care; you''re just cooler to everyone," Georgie said, amused, as he closed his locker.

    "It''s called modesty, Georgie," I explained to my friend. "By the way, why on earth do you have a mirror in your locker?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

    "How else could I maintain this hairstyle?" he said, pointing to his hair as if it were obvious.

    Amused by my friend''s complete lack of shame and somewhat less embarrassed, I followed my friend more quietly to our next period.

    Classes continued, and at the end of the day, as always, mom was outside waiting a few seconds after getting into the car. "Patrick John Darth Duncan!" the woman shouted, "Is that swelling on your lips?" she asked incredulously, leaning in to inspect my face, strangely moving my head to also check my neck.

    During the car ride to the hospital, bombarded with questions that I intensely avoided and a strange kind of reprimand/warning about treating a lady, we arrived at the hospital in what felt like the longest drive, at least it felt that way.

    As soon as mom parked the car, I got out without waiting and walked quickly into the building. With a quick greeting to the nurses, I walked through the hospital corridors towards House''s office.

    Inside, all the doctors were already there, including House, the latter standing next to Dr. Foreman, looking at a large book.

    "Let¡¯s see," I heard House as soon as I entered the office, "Absidia? Excellent, doesn''t account for any of the symptoms," he continued sarcastically, "and you, you''re late," he said, fixing his gaze on me, lifting his cane.

    "I don''t have a schedule," I immediately responded, greeting the other doctors present with a slight nod.

    "Hey PJ!" cheerfully greeted Dr. Cameron on the side of the board with a series of ailments written on it, "no condition accounts for all these symptoms," she continued, addressing House.

    "Well, good!" said House with an obviously fake joy, "because I thought maybe he was sick, but apparently he¡¯s not. Who wants to do up the discharge papers?" he continued, much more serious. "Okay, unless we control the blood pressure, he¡¯s going to start circling the drain before we can figure out what¡¯s wrong with him," he said after a moment, seeing that his message had landed. "Treat him for sepsis, broad-spectrum antibiotics, and I want a cort-stim test and an echocardiogram," he finished, making the other three doctors stand up and leave one after the other.

    "Now, you," said House again, pointing at me with his cane as he walked to his desk, "the notebook," he continued, raising his expectant hand.

    Approaching the other side of the desk, I took out the small notebook from my backpack and handed it to him. "I didn''t know you''d be grading me," I joked with the man as he opened the notebook.

    With a funny snort, House began to read quickly the notes about the people written there.

    "This man in his seventies, cane on the right side with hearing aids and drinks medication with his coffee, diagnosis?" House asked, still flipping through the notebook.

    Trying to remember the people I had described in the notebook, I responded quickly, "Possible high blood pressure or heart problem," managing to get House to nod very slightly.

    Still scanning the notebook, House maintained a somewhat bored expression until he turned the page, slightly opening his eyes. "Woman in her twenties, lack of balance, excessive sweating on her forehead, irritation by light and sound, diagnosis?" House asked, closing the notebook and looking at me with interest.

    "Labyrinthitis in her right ear," I immediately replied, knowing he was talking about Sarah.

    Handing me the notebook, House reclined in his chair, nodding silently, inviting me to continue.

    Understanding his request, I began to tell him about what had happened in the cafeteria, omitting the fact that I was there for a date.

    At the end of my narration, House had a half-smile, which I could now distinguish he used when he was about to mock someone. "You must have felt so lucky," the man said as he leaned forward in his chair, "on a date and you can play the hero," he continued sarcastically.

    "I wasn''t on a date, and I didn''t feel lucky," I lied about the date, and I really didn''t feel lucky; I mean, why would I?

    Narrowing his eyes, "I believe you," House said, obviously suspicious, "so I must believe that on your way here, you kissed your mother, and in a desperate but fruitless attempt, you cleaned your lips," House continued with a big smile.

    "Hey," I said annoyed and somewhat disgusted at House''s stupid idea.

    "I''m just saying I believe you," House said, raising his hands with an annoying smile.

    "Okay, fine, I was on a date, but it''s not important for what happened," I quickly said, trying to erase the image that House had planted.

    "I knew it; I just wanted to annoy you," House said ironically, smiling.

    Annoyed by his joke, "So, do you need anything else, or can I go?" I asked irritably to the smiling man.

    Losing his smile, House leaned back in his chair again, "Buruli disease," he said dryly.

    Waiting for him to continue, I saw him for a few seconds, and then I understood; it was a question.

    "Caused by Mycobacterium ulcerans, it presents skin ulcers that can affect deeper tissues. The transmission is still not fully understood," I replied, recalling from the last book.

    Nodding once quickly, "How can Nipah virus be diagnosed?" House said again.

    "Encephalitis and exposure to secretions from infected animals, including fruit bats," I responded a few seconds later after remembering.

    The questions continued like this for several minutes. I could answer the majority of them, occasionally House added some things not found in the book, and the few times it happened, he answered for me when I couldn''t recall the response.

    Still lounging in his chair with his feet up on his desk, House nodded satisfied, stretching his arm a bit to reach one of the books behind him.

    "Here, continue with this one," I took the book, reading the cover before putting it in my backpack. Unfortunately, I didn''t have the other book with me, so I couldn''t hand it over.

    Checking his watch, House made a grimace so that he slowly and with effort stood up, "come on, the clinic is waiting for us," he walked out of his office with me following behind.

    When we entered the clinic, which was completely full, to House''s frustration, if a deep sigh indicated anything, we found Dr. Cuddy checking files at the clinic reception.

    When we were close enough for her to notice us, Cuddy, with a furrowed brow, confronted House, "you¡¯re half an hour late," she said loud enough for the present patients not to hear.

    "Busy case load," House immediately excused himself.

    Shaking her head, "one case is not a ''load,''" said Dr. Cuddy sarcastically, returning to her files on the reception counter.

    House, seeing the large number of people waiting to be attended, "so, how are we doing on cotton swabs today?" he asked sarcastically, surely making up the first thing that came to his mind, "if there''s an acute shortage, I could run home-" the sarcastic man was saying, "no, you couldn''t," Dr. Cuddy interrupted, looking pointedly at his leg, alluding to the obvious.

    Taken by surprise, I couldn''t help it and let out a quick laugh that I tried to suppress.

    Noticing my presence, Dr. Cuddy attempted a pleasant smile, "PJ, nice to see you," she greeted before continuing with her paperwork.

    "Hi," I greeted the director, trying to avoid House''s offended look, "nice, you''re turning the kid against me," he said, making Dr. Cuddy laugh, ignoring him while writing in the file in front of her.

    House, seeing that Cuddy was ignoring him, indicated that I should follow him as he walked to the center of the waiting area, "hello, sick people and their loved ones," House cheerfully greeted the people present, "in the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chit-chat later, I''m Dr. Gregory House," he continued, lifting his cane to greet the people, "you can call me Gregg," he continued, trying to appear friendly, "I''m one of the three doctors staffing this clinic this morning," House said with a big smile, obviously fake.

    "Short, sweet," said Dr. Cuddy, who had approached at some point, "grab a file," she ordered annoyed.

    "This ray of sunshine is Dr. Lisa Cuddy, who runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately, she''s much too busy to deal with you," House quickly said, ignoring Dr. Cuddy, "I am a bored," he continued emphasizing the last word, "certified diagnostician with a double specialty in infectious disease and nephrology," House explained calmly, "I''m also the only doctor currently employed at this clinic who is here against his will," he continued, causing many patients and family members to lose the friendly smile they had on their faces.

    "But not to worry because, for most of you, this job could be done by a hormonal teenager who reads a lot," House said as if he had invented the comparison on the fly, "indeed," he continued, twisting his face and smiling, "this one here is PJ Duncan, a teenager not old enough to have a driver''s license yet," he said, taking me by the shoulder and shaking me lightly, "you might be wondering what he''s doing here; well, he''s my assistant. He tells me if I missed something or if I forget something during the consultation. Sometimes I let him diagnose, and I work accordingly, making my job much easier."

    Seeing that Cuddy wanted to say something, House quickly took another step forward to keep himself in the spotlight, "Speaking of which, if you¡¯re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this," he said, showing his small bottle of medication, "this is Vicodin," he explained, "it¡¯s mine, you can¡¯t have any, and no, I do not have a pain management problem; I have a pain problem," he continued quickly with a small smile on his face, "but who knows? Maybe I¡¯m wrong; maybe I¡¯m too stoned to tell," he said, changing the expression on his face to one of concern, "so, who wants me?" he asked the people, but no one raised their hand, "and who would rather wait for one of the other two doctors?" he asked again, making everyone raise their hands, "okay, well, I¡¯ll be in the exam room one if you change your mind," he finished with a smile, walking toward the room, smiling at Dr. Cuddy on the way. I quickly followed, avoiding the annoyed doctor''s gaze.

    "Jodi Matthews," I managed to hear Dr. Cuddy shout before reaching House and entering the room.

    When House was getting comfortable in his chair, a somewhat short woman with glasses entered the room with a file in her hand.

    Seeing that his tactic hadn''t worked, House, frustrated, got up from his chair to snatch the file from the woman''s hands. Looking me in the eyes, House quickly tilted his head, pointing at the woman. Understanding what he wanted, I opened my notebook to start writing what I could see.

    The woman was in her thirties, in formal clothes for the occasion. When she entered and smiled at me as a greeting, I noticed that her teeth were recently worked, quite white to be natural. She had new glasses or was compulsive with their care because there was no visible scratch on them. In medical terms, there was nothing to note: no visible redness, no cough, her pupils seemed fine, good balance, and she didn''t seem uncomfortable anywhere. She seemed to be simply waiting while House read her file.

    "Okay," House said after a few seconds of reading the file in his hands, "everything seems in order. Why did you come?" House asked her while handing me the file to read and indicating to the woman to take a seat on the examination table.

    "My mucus," the woman said as she took a seat.

    "What?" House asked, somewhat irritated.

    "It was yellow," the woman affirmed, somewhat embarrassed because I immediately began writing in my notebook. Strange, it was yellow, now not?

    "It was?" House asked sarcastically.

    "It''s not anymore," the woman explained.

    "Hm, that''s a shame," House said with fake sadness.

    "I thought that might be a problem, so I brought you this," the woman said as she took a colored card from her purse.

    "Your mucus was pale goldenrod," House said, reading the inscription on the card before passing it to me. Strange, why bother bringing this?

    "Last week, yes, should I be worried?" the woman asked, totally unconcerned.

    "Oh, yes," House said sarcastically, "very," he continued with seriousness.

    "Really?" the woman asked, suddenly scared, "I thought I was okay now," she affirmed with concern on her face. Then why was she here?

    "And yet, here you are," House said ironically as he straightened up, "what happened? Did the paramedics take a week to respond to your 911 call?" House asked sarcastically, teasing the patient.

    "You''re not a very nice doctor, are you?" the woman accused.

    "And you are very bad at whatever it is you do," House affirmed, and with that, I understood what might be happening. House, noticing the surprise on my face, stretched out his hand, asking for my notebook, which I quickly handed over.

    "You don''t even know me!" the offended woman exclaimed.

    "I know you have new glasses, your teeth are sparkly white, and you''re getting the most of your health insurance while you still can," House said, nodding slightly at what was written in the notebook, "diagnosis?" House asked, returning the notebook to me.

    "Termination," I quickly responded, the theory I had formed with what House had said.

    "I might be quitting," the woman proudly announced.

    "If you were quitting, you would have known that last week when your snot was still pale goldenrod; you''re getting fired," House said calmly.

    Seeing that she had been caught in her lie, the woman simply lowered her head, "I just don''t like being told what to do," she said, making House look at her specifically.

    "I''ll get you in for a full-body scan later this week," House said, pitying the woman, surely feeling similar to her as he wrote in the patient''s file.

    "Thanks," the woman thanked.

    After a few minutes of House filling out paperwork, the woman left. "What kind of patient is she, a type two?" I asked while taking a seat in the other chair in the office.

    "No, she didn''t want drugs, possibly we''re in the presence of a unicorn," House said with a strange smile.

    "A unicorn?" I asked intrigued.

    "A type five," House said, "an interesting patient," he explained, noticing my surprised expression.

    "I thought there were only four types of patients," I ironically told the man.

    "The type five is so special and rare that I preferred to skip it," House said as he handed me the patient''s file, "take it to your old girlfriend, be careful she doesn''t find out about the new one," House continued joking.

    Ignoring his joke, I took the file to Nurse Fryday. "PJ," the nurse greeted cheerfully as she received the file, "let me see," she continued, opening and reading what was written, "a full-body scan, wow," she continued surprised after reading what House had written.

    "It''s nothing serious, House just wants to cover everything," I explained to the nurse as I leaned on the desk.

    After having a small conversation, Nurse Fryday handed me another file, urging me now that House had introduced me to the patients to call them myself.

    We continued at the clinic for a couple of hours, attending to patients much less interesting than Jodi, many type ones, and, of course, not helping my ''task'' of diagnosing without reading the file. It was too easy.

    When I was about to leave to deliver the last file, House''s pager started ringing. Checking the message, House stood up, "let''s go," he said as he walked out of the room.

    Following the man after leaving the file on Nurse Fryday''s desk, I quickened my pace to catch up with the fast man with the cane.

    "What happened?" I asked.

    "Kidney failure," House explained as he walked.

    "Caused by antibiotics?" I asked, walking beside him.

    "Maybe," House said thoughtfully, "cough, abdominal pain, fever, rash, nausea, blood pressure not responding to IV fluids, kidney failure," House listed as we walked.

    When we reached House''s office, the other doctors were already there.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and much less a doctor.

    I know there''s a plot about PJ''s name in the series Good Luck Charlie, but according to the wiki, his name is the one published here. From now on, it will be like this, and there will be no changes.

    Today, I made some changes to Regina''s attitude shown in the movie. You probably remember that Regina doesn''t care about showing ''affection'' in front of other people; obviously, that''s because of her mother''s role model. But I like to imagine that Regina''s attitude in the movie is the result of a gradual increase in ego during her high school journey. I imagine that since she was a child, people told her she was the prettiest (specifically her mother, living vicariously through her daughter), creating a great self-esteem. When she entered high school, she used this to belittle people around her and feel like the best once again.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 29

    When we arrived at House''s office, the other three doctors were already there.

    "His BP is falling fast, there''s fluid filling his lungs, his creatinine is rising," Dr. Foreman quickly stated as soon as we entered the office.

    Separating from House to take a seat in one of the chairs beside the table, I joined the other three doctors while we waited for House to start speaking.

    "So..." House said, approaching the board and taking a marker to write the new symptom, kidney failure. "We had six symptoms that didn''t add up to anything, now we have seven," he said, turning to the other doctors and me, smiling sarcastically. "Who''s excited?"

    Ignoring House''s joke, Dr. Foreman denied, "I don''t think it complicates things. The kidney failure was caused by the antibiotics."

    House, giving me a small smile, responded with the same words he had told me a few moments ago when we were alone in the hospital hallway, "Maybe."

    "Typically, low blood pressure and abdominal pain mean an infection," Dr. Foreman defended his theory. "An abdominal infection causes sepsis, low blood pressure..." he continued, but Chase calmly interrupted, "Except we checked for abdominal infections."

    "I know, but what if it¡¯s the other way around?" Dr. Foreman immediately responded. "What if the low blood pressure is causing the abdominal pain?" he asked, trying to defend his idea again.

    "Viral heart infection," Cameron theorized. "The intestines aren¡¯t getting enough blood, and the result is belly pain," she continued, not entirely sure.

    "I know it''s not the standard presentation," Dr. Foreman said somewhat hopefully.

    "It''s a ten million to one shot," Chase joked.

    "I thought that¡¯s what we dealt with here," Dr. Foreman defended. "It explains the cardiomyopathy, pain, the low BP, the fever," he asserted firmly.

    "You read the book, impressive," House joked. "It¡¯s a ludicrously long shot that explains every one of those symptoms, except for the cough and the rash," House continued ironically. "Should we just erase those?" he asked, raising the eraser towards the board.

    "Well, anything can cause a rash," Foreman quickly defended, downplaying the symptom.

    "Okay," House nodded reluctantly, taking one of the colored markers. "Cardiac infection," he said, enclosing all but two symptoms on the board. "Cameron, you thought... allergy?" he continued, leaving the first marker to take another and enclose the symptoms that could be caused by allergy. "Chase, what was it you thought, carcinoid? And then there''s hypothyroidism, could be parasites," he continued enclosing conditions. "Finally, sinus infection," he said, enclosing another group of symptoms before taking a step back.

    "If you''re going to list all the things it can''t be, you''re gonna need more colors," Foreman sarcastically remarked.

    "Cameron was right," House appreciated what she did on the board. "No conditions explain all these symptoms," House affirmed, staring fixedly at the written words. "What do you think, kid?" House asked. "You haven''t spoken in a good while," he continued, still looking at the board.

    I was somewhat distracted, also contemplating the words on the board, thinking of any other condition that could have all those symptoms that had come up. Being called suddenly into the conversation had put me in a situation where I couldn''t respond with anything other than a few stammers.

    Stammers that served for Foreman''s amusement, who let out a quick laugh of disdain. "Orange and green covers everything," I said quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment for my stammer.

    "Yeah," House affirmed without turning, still looking at the board.

    "Orange and green? Two conditions, contracted simultaneously?" Chase asked incredulously.

    "Occam''s Razor," Dr. Foreman proudly said. "The simplest explanation is always the best."

    "And you think one is simpler than two," House said sarcastically.

    "Pretty sure it is, yeah," Cameron affirmed.

    "A baby appears," House said, forming a smile on his face as he leaned slightly toward Cameron. "Chase here tells you it''s because two people exchanged fluids," he pointed at Chase with his cane, "I tell you a stork dropped it with a diaper on, which statement do you believe?" he asked with a proud smile.

    "I think your argument is deceptive," Foreman interrupted House''s question.

    "I think your tie is ugly," House immediately responded. "Why is one simpler than two? It¡¯s lower, lonelier¡­ is it simpler?" House walked around his office. "Each one of these conditions is about a thousand to one shot. That means that any two of them happening at the same time is a million to one shot," he continued, pretending to calculate in his head. "Chase says that cardiac infection is a 10 million to one shot, which makes my idea 10 times better than yours. Get a calculator, run the numbers," he sarcastically asserted.

    "We¡¯ll run the tests," Chase argued calmly from his chair.

    "Tests take time," House said. "Treatment¡¯s quicker," he continued. "Start the kid on Unasyn for the sinus infection and¡­ what was orange?"

    "Hypothyroidism," I replied, still focused on the board. Something didn''t add up; I had it at my fingertips, I knew it, but I couldn''t decipher what it was.

    Nodding seriously, House silently instructed the other doctors to continue their work, making them leave the office.

    "Now, kid, be a good teenager and get lost in the hospital. You can go watch TV in the obstetrics break room, but knowing you, you''d probably prefer going to the library. I''m sure if you ask nicely, they''ll let you watch the bloody operation tapes," House said with amusement as he turned around.

    "Aren''t we going back to the clinic?" I asked him as I watched him walk to his desk, bending down to retrieve something from one of the drawers.

    "I am. I have a date with this," he said, showing me a Gameboy. "I have some unfinished business with Cuddy. If you don''t want to go to the library, you can stay here or bother Foreman. I''m sure at least I''ll appreciate it," the sarcastic doctor continued as he limped out of his office.

    I hadn''t visited the hospital library; I might as well do it now. Grabbing my surprisingly heavy backpack, I remembered House''s new book. I left the office, heading to the library, following the directions on a building map outside the office.

    The hospital library was slightly larger than the school library. There were two sections, one with hundreds of books likely related to medicine and another section with hundreds of VHS tapes. Passing by a few people in lab coats who paid me no attention, probably not expecting someone without authorization to be interested, I reached a small table in the corner.

    Taking out my worn and almost completely filled notebook, I flipped through pages full of notes on the books House gave me, along with information I remembered about cellular transplantation in Dr. Donnall Thomas''s research.

    My contribution to the research couldn''t be one hundred percent substantial, as despite having access to this hospital''s equipment, I didn''t have the specific equipment and licenses needed to experiment with cellular transplantation. All I could do was assist with the ''theory'' that I knew was proven, at least in my other life.

    Dr. Thomas was too close to publishing the article that would win him the Nobel Prize, so I had to be quick in helping him get there.

    Focused on writing what I remembered about hematopoietic stem cell transplantation on a neatly cared-for blank sheet, I didn''t notice the swift passage of time. The chair in the library was not comfortable at all, and the fatigue in my shoulders was to blame for snapping me out of the self-induced trance I had fallen into while writing.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Checking my wristwatch, I realized several hours had passed in the library. It was almost time to leave. Packing up my things, I headed back to House''s office.

    When I entered, I found House behind his desk, grabbing his backpack. "Ah, kid, what was on TV?" he asked, hanging his backpack over his shoulder.

    Entering his office, I replied, "It was a movie about a sad and bitter old man," as I took a seat in the available chair.

    "Who would''ve thought, the kid has fangs," House said sarcastically.

    "Here, take this," I said, ignoring him as I pulled out the sheets of what I had written today for Dr. Donnall''s research, along with a small note greeting the doctor. I handed them to House.

    "What''s this?" he asked as he took them. "Boring," he said disinterestedly after a quick read, taking an envelope from his desk to store the sheets on top of other letters, waiting for the messenger to arrive. "This reminds me," House continued with a big smile, searching through the pile of sheets on his desk, "a letter arrived for you," he said, annoyingly smiling, handing me a sealed envelope.

    "So, you remember now?" I asked ironically.

    "What can I say?" House asked sarcastically, raising his hands. "I''m a busy man."

    "Yeah," I said without bothering to continue the game, storing the letter in my backpack and getting up. Before I could leave the office, my eyes crossed with the board on the other side. Again, for some reason, I had the feeling that I was missing something. Cough, abdominal pain, fever, rash, nausea, blood pressure not responding to IV fluids, kidney failure.

    On the way to the hospital entrance, where Mom was probably already waiting, I continued thinking about the symptoms, listing them in my head, trying to find the cause behind them.

    "PJ," I suddenly heard Mom''s voice, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly as she walked towards me.

    "Yeah, just a problem I can''t get out of my head. It''s nothing, Mom," I replied calmly with a small smile to the woman, bidding farewell to the nurse colleagues of Mom before leaving with her.

    As we walked to the car, the woman began to limp strangely on one foot. "What''s wrong, are you okay?" it was my turn to ask this time.

    "Huh? Oh yes, it''s just the shoes, they''re killing me," she said as she opened the driver''s door.

    The pain in her feet immediately reminded me of her pregnancy. "How''s everything going with the new baby?" I asked the woman as we drove home. "Good, good, PJ, thanks," she immediately affirmed with a big smile on her face. "Oh!" she exclaimed, raising one of her hands from the steering wheel, apparently remembering something. "Right, on Wednesday, I won''t be able to pick you up, PJ. I have the first appointment with the obstetrician," she said quickly.

    I had already planned not to go to the hospital on Wednesday. In fact, I had planned to ask Coach Cooper for a ride home because I had to get the money from Meemaw. There couldn''t have been a better date for Mom''s appointment. Now I didn''t have to explain anything about my decision not to go on Wednesday. "Oh, I see. Well, I''ll have to inform Dr. House tomorrow," I told the woman calmly.

    The mention of the doctor started a conversation about the things I was learning at the hospital under Dr. House. I told Mom about the patients coming to the clinic and the ''recent'' ease in diagnosing them.

    We arrived home while Mom told me how one of her nurse friends had managed to get a completely drunk man to take a bath by himself.

    After helping Teddy with his homework and talking for several minutes about the gossip in his school, mainly she talking non-stop, I entered my room where Gabe was lying down reading a comic book. "Hey buddy," I greeted as I put my things aside on my desk. "Hey," he simply responded, still focused on his reading.

    Incredulous and amused by his comic book hobby, I took a seat in my chair to do my homework. As always, it was pretty easy to do. In my past life, I had won several high school-level math contests; any regular assignment wasn''t much of a problem.

    Again, getting up from my place, stretching my tired muscles¡ªif this continued, I''d have backaches faster than in my past life. If I won the bet, the first thing I''d buy would definitely be an ergonomic chair.

    Storing my things again in my backpack, I checked the time, noticing there was still time for dinner. Taking the book House had lent me, along with some sticky notes, I followed my little brother''s example and lay down on my bed to start reading and taking notes to stick in the book.

    Once again, the book House had loaned me was from a publishing house, nothing as interesting as Dr. Donnall''s notes. "Pharmaceutical Encyclopedia," I read aloud before opening the book.

    Reading the book and taking notes, I was completely focused on remembering things I had already learned once. Reading the names of the active ingredients of the medications, as well as the recommended indications, was easy for me to recall¡ªlike riding a bike, many times I just had to read the name of the active ingredient, and I immediately remembered its main use.

    "Kids, dinner!" Mom''s sudden shout pulled me out of my study of the book. Folding one of the corners on the page where I stopped, the letter ''d'', I closed the book to place it on my bedside table.

    Gabe was still reading his comic distractedly. "Mom is calling us," I told him as I threw one of my pillows at him. "Hey!" he yelled annoyed as he put his comic aside to get up irritated from his spot.

    After an still somewhat annoyed Gabe left his comic on his own bedside table, he began to walk out of the room still muttering things under his breath. Before he could pass through the door, I caught his head in a sideways hug, squeezing and covering his eyes. "Hey!" the kid yelled, trying to remove my hand. "Stop mumbling, or you''ll get an ulcer, shorty," I quickly let go after shaking his head, running out of the room towards the dining room.

    "Stop right there!" Gabe yelled while he ran happily after me.

    "What''s going on?" Bob asked surprised when I arrived running at the dining table. "Nothing," I calmly replied with a smile as I took my seat.

    A few seconds later, Gabe arrived running, stopping in front of Mom''s suspicious gaze. When he took his seat, he discreetly hit my arm before serving himself food.

    Dinner went on like any other day. Bob started talking about his day, while the people at the table unsuccessfully tried to change the conversation from insects and rodents infesting places of interest in the city. Teddy and Gabe discussed the interesting things happening in their respective schools, and Mom shared with others what she had already told me in the car.

    "And you, PJ, is there any interesting case Dr. House is working on?" Bob asked as he took a sip from his water glass.

    "There''s this patient," I began talking about the new case.

    "How terrible, kidney failure at such a young age," Mom said, shaking her head. "Usually, it''s much older patients with years of alcohol consumption," she continued with sadness.

    "What is kidney failure?" Gabe asked, interested, while calmly cutting a piece of steak on his plate.

    "The kidneys filter and eliminate waste and excess fluids in the blood, Gabe," I explained quickly. "It''s crucial for keeping your blood balanced."

    "Then why does he have kidney failure if he hasn''t been drinking alcohol for a long time?" Teddy asked this time.

    "Well, Mom is right. Usually, chronic alcohol consumers, like many other diseases, are prone to kidney damage," I said, making Mom nod proudly. "But not only alcohol consumption can be harmful; there could be kidney failure after an injury, for example, if the organ doesn''t get enough blood, a hereditary disease, or even from taking medication," I quickly explained to my sister as I finished my meal.

    "But he doesn''t suffer from any of that, right?" Teddy asked again, concerned. "I mean, you would know, wouldn''t you?"

    "Yes, an injury severe enough to damage the kidney is not easy to ignore. And before we left, they were already treating him for hypothyroidism. Let''s hope for good news by tomorrow," I said calmly, trying not to worry the teenager further.

    Bob, who had been silent until then, let out a small laugh while shaking his head. "What?" I asked as I watched him amused.

    "Oh, nothing. It''s just that it will never cease to amaze me to hear you say those professional-sounding words," he said, smiling slightly.

    After that, we continued dinner until everyone finished. Teddy helped Mom with the dirty dishes, while Bob, Gabe, and I went to the garage to exercise with weights.

    After several minutes of exercising, Bob and I, since Gabe had finished much earlier to take a bath and get ready for bed, left the garage, turning off the lights and closing the door. "Do you really think the kidney kid will get better?" Bob asked suddenly, a bit worried.

    Surprised by the sudden question, I took a few seconds to respond, which, to my surprise, deepened Bob''s concern. "Yes, House is a great doctor. If it''s not hypothyroidism, there are few other things that can cause his symptoms. I''m sure we''ll find the cause quickly," I quickly replied with a little harmless lie. I didn''t understand why he was so worried. "Are you okay?" I asked, noticing that his concern didn''t diminish.

    "Oh, yes," he said with a fake smile. "It''s just that his age reminded me of your accident," he confessed with a small smile, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Let''s hope he gets better," he finished, saying goodbye and going to clean up.

    A bit sad because of the man''s concern, I walked to the available bathroom to clean myself and get ready for bed.

    The warm shower water helped my sudden muscle tension in the back improve, but even when I got out of the shower, I could feel a slight pull due to the position I had been sitting in all day. Taking a weak muscle relaxant from Mom''s medicine cabinet, I walked to the kitchen without the upper part of my clothes to get a glass of water to take the medication.

    The September nights were starting to be a bit cold, so I wasn''t surprised when a gust of cold air made a shiver run down my spine, causing a small sip of water to go down the wrong way, making me cough.

    After almost choking on a small sip of water, I took the pill in my hand, wait.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, let alone a doctor.

    This is the second chapter of which I am less proud. Things didn''t flow as planned, which was the result of not having enough time to write. I''m in the final exam season, and with that, there are projects that consume a significant part of my day.

    This is not to excuse the lower quality of this chapter or anything. It''s just to explain that in the coming weeks, the chapters may be a bit shorter, but I promise it will be compensated during the winter holidays, where possibly¡ªPOSSIBLY¡ªthere will be two chapters per week.

    We''ll see.

    That said.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 30 REMAKE

    A medicine, of course!

    In the day-to-day life as a paramedic, there are dozens of emergency calls involving medications. An ordinary person will take any medication prescribed by a doctor without thinking twice. However, if there''s a mistake and you accidentally take medication to treat something you don''t have, it can cause an overdose that affects your body. This may not be immediate, but if your symptoms don''t improve over time, you might continue taking the medication until it takes effect, whether for better or worse.

    Quickly taking the muscle relaxant medication, I turned off the lights to walk swiftly to my room, where I covered the top of my still somewhat cold body.

    With the help of a handheld flashlight, I took the pharmaceutical encyclopedia that House had given me to study, carrying it with me to my bed. Satisfied with the blankets over my body, I began to reread from the beginning, paying special attention to the overdose warnings for each medication.

    I needed a medication that would cause fever and a rash on the body. I could ignore abdominal pain, nausea, and blood pressure not responding to IV fluids, as they were all symptoms of kidney failure.

    Obviously, the cough started it all. The patient, being sick, went to the doctor, who, identifying a patient resembling the ''type one'' from House''s category, simply prescribed cough medicine. Later, at the pharmacy or before it, there was an error, leading to administering the patient a wrong medication from the prescription.

    The question was, which one is capable of doing that?

    Flipping through the pages and reading carefully, I came to what could possibly be my answer.

    "Colchicine," I read aloud, fearing to wake Gabe, who was peacefully asleep in his bed.

    It is a medication primarily used to treat gout, a type of arthritis caused by uric acid crystals accumulating in the joints, leading to inflammation and pain. It is also sometimes prescribed for other conditions, such as familial Mediterranean fever and pericarditis.

    "The colchicine blocks mitosis and stops cell division, resulting in abdominal pain, rash, fever, nausea, low blood pressure, kidney failure, and messing with the bone marrow," I read more confidently, convinced that this had to be the answer. A simple error explained why the order of symptoms seemed so strange; the patient was self-inflicting them.

    "What''s going on?" I heard from Gabe''s bed with a tired nasal tone. "Is it time to run?" he asked, lifting his head still half asleep.

    "No, buddy, sleep," I quickly replied, turning off the flashlight, causing him to lower his head again and immediately fall into a deep sleep.

    Amused by how easily Gabe could sleep, I closed the corner of the page, shutting the book to leave it on my bedside table along with the flashlight. I had to investigate a bit more, but it was a good start to a theory.

    Still thinking about the implications and treatment for colchicine overdose, I closed my eyes peacefully to sleep.

    As usual, I managed to wake up a few moments before the alarm clock, turning it off to avoid it ringing. I woke up Gabe to get both of us ready for our morning run.

    After warming up and stretching in the front yard, we started our run around the neighborhood. For the season, it seemed like the sun was rising a bit later, and coupled with the cooler temperature, the atmosphere was much chillier. Despite that, the streets of our neighborhood had the same amount of life as every past day¡ªpeople walking their pets, other runners, mail carriers, delivery persons, and people heading to their cars to go to work.

    Without really thinking about it, I counted the last lap of my usual runs. "Look at that, you did the same number of laps as me," I told Gabe, who was bent over, hands on his knees, panting for air. Gabe could only raise his thumb over his still bowed head in response.

    "Breathe," I said, placing my hand on his back. "Give it a few more days, and you''ll be able to do it without any problems. Let''s go," I continued playfully, giving my brother a slight push on his shoulder.

    "Yeah," said Gabe, quickly straightening up to avoid stumbling, then swiftly returning to try to push me back.

    Dodging the little kid''s attempt, I entered the house quickly, with him following behind me.

    "Gabe, there you are," Mom said as we entered the kitchen to each grab a glass of water. "He accompanied me during my entire run," I explained to the woman after drinking the water, making her smile in surprise at her younger son. "Look at that," she continued proudly, embarrassing the little boy.

    Shaking the boy''s head, "Go clean up in Mom and Dad''s bathroom," I ordered as I lightly pushed him out of the kitchen.

    Leaving my glass in the sink to be washed, I left the kitchen to take a quick shower before going to school.

    After cleaning up and grabbing my things from my room, I went to the kitchen, where I had a quick breakfast. A few moments later, I left with Bob in his awful yellow truck.

    Listening to Bob''s favorite songs through the speakers of the truck, we arrived at school.

    "Have a great day, champ," Bob said as he lightly pushed me out of the truck, moving to the rhythm of one of the songs.

    After saying goodbye to Bob, I entered the school, greeting some of my classmates I crossed paths with as I walked towards the door.

    Walking through the school hallways, returning the greetings to anyone who greeted me, and trying to ignore people who just pointed at me, whispering what was probably a highly distorted story of what happened in the cafeteria a few days ago. Unable to avoid it, I bumped into someone''s shoulder, causing a few notebooks to fall to the ground. "Oh, I''m sorry," I said, bending down to pick up the fallen items.

    "Thanks," said the person, and as I lifted my head to return the belongings, I discovered it was Kat with a completely neutral expression. "Kat," I said in greeting, somewhat embarrassed, remembering the interruption from the day before.

    Surprised, Kat lifted her gaze, furrowing her brow. Then she snatched her things from my hands, quickly getting up. As I stood up with her, intrigued by her strange behavior, before I could ask her the reason, she advanced quickly, angrily hitting my shoulder as she passed.

    Without moving, confused by Kat''s annoyed attitude, I watched her move swiftly through the people in the hallways. Strangely, like me, some people seemed especially interested in Kat, pointing at her, laughing, and whispering among themselves.

    "Yo, doctor!" I heard someone shout behind me as they grabbed my shoulder abruptly, making me turn quickly. In front of me was an extremely large teenager with obvious overweight. "What do you think this is?" he asked loudly with a silly smile, showing me his forearm where a black patch was stuck. As he displayed it, he continuously smiled at a group of teenagers beside him.

    "That''s dirt, probably mud. Take a bath," I quickly responded, removing his hand from my shoulder, annoyed by his obvious attempt at a bad joke. I imitated Kat''s previous action, hitting the teenager''s shoulder as I walked to my locker.

    As I walked, I could hear the teenager''s companions making fun of him.

    Thinking about what I could have done to bother Kat so much, I continued walking until I reached my locker, where my four friends were already cheerfully chatting.

    "Hey," I greeted everyone as I opened my locker. "SuperStar," Brock said cheerfully as he friendly hit my shoulder.

    "Is everything okay?" Alan asked, arms crossed in front of his body.

    "Yeah," I said, still a bit upset about the issue with Kat and especially the overweight teenager''s joke.

    Closing my locker in front of my calm friend, "Forget it, just an idiot," I said much calmer.

    "I know a lot of them," Alan joked with a small smile, pointing his gaze at our three friends.

    Amused, I lightly hit his arm in feigned disagreement.

    Incredibly, my gentle touch on his arm caused an immediate reaction. With a futile attempt to hide the pain, Alan quickly stepped back out of my reach.

    "Wow, Alan, are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

    "Yeah!" he quickly responded, trying to downplay the issue.

    Before I could continue with my interrogation attempt, "PJ!" I heard Sheldon''s high-pitched voice behind me.

    Trying to warn my calm friend that the conversation wasn''t over, a rather unsuccessful attempt since the focus of my warning was splendidly ignoring me.

    "Sheldon," I greeted the boy with a nod that he imitated.

    "Can we go to class now?" he asked hopefully. Sheldon''s natural complexion was usually pale, but today, for some reason, the boy looked much paler and sicker than usual.

    "Feeling okay, little buddy?" I asked, lightly touching his forehead to check if he had an abnormal temperature.

    "Yeah, just a little tired," the boy assured.

    "Didn''t sleep well last night?" I calmly asked the little boy.

    "Oh, no, no, definitely got the necessary hours for my body''s development," he eloquently replied.

    "Then you didn''t have enough food for breakfast. Want some of my lunch?" I offered as I turned to take out my lunch bag.

    "Oh no, I''m very young, and I have many things to accomplish," the boy asserted quickly, denying my offer.

    "What do you mean?" I asked intrigued.

    "He''s afraid of food," Georgie responded, amused, standing a few steps away, making David, amazed by the idea, stare at the boy completely incredulous.

    "Solid food is a health hazard," Sheldon felt the need to explain immediately, despite the incredulous looks from those in front of him.

    "So you didn''t eat anything this morning?" I asked, concerned for the little boy''s health.

    "Oh, yes, I had a banana shake with oats," the boy replied.

    "Okay then," I said, somewhat relieved. "Do you guys have everything you need?" I asked my friends in general, receiving positive responses. "Well then, let''s go," I said, urging the little boy to walk ahead of me, walking with my friends to our first period.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Classes went on with the usual daily routine, even though Sheldon wasn''t as active as usual. Apparently, he had enough energy to quickly answer the questions asked by the teachers, continuing our competition of responses.

    When lunchtime arrived, my friends and I sat at the table Regina and her friends used as their own. After quickly scanning everyone in the cafeteria, I noticed Kat wasn''t present, and Sheldon had only a small chocolate milk box and a tiny jelly in front of him.

    Listening as my three more excited friends began talking about some current popular movie, "So, are you going to tell me what''s going on with your arms?" I asked, leaning towards my friend much calmer.

    With a deep sigh, Alan slightly shook his head. "It''s just a training accident," he said quietly with a small smile, undoubtedly trying to make me not worry about what happened.

    Before I could ask him what he meant by a ''training accident,'' two slender arms wrapped around my neck, startling me with the suddenness of the situation. "Hey, handsome," Regina greeted as she sat next to me, pushing Alan gently, who quickly moved on his own, avoiding Regina''s hand.

    "You scared me," I joked with Regina when she finished settling into her seat, opening a salad bowl.

    "Oh, I''m sorry," the girl responded, amused, pushing her shoulder against mine.

    As Regina''s two friends also took a seat at the shared table, each group of friends continued with their own conversations and lunches, at least for those who could easily eat. It was a bit challenging for me because Regina always had my arm trapped with hers.

    After lunch, we continued with our last two periods to go to training where, like in the previous sessions, the coaches gave us a physical circuit to start, and we ended up running and practicing the plays we already knew.

    "Hit the showers," Coach Cooper shouted after blowing his whistle loudly, allowing many of my teammates, myself included, to internally celebrate as we were all generally tired.

    "PJ, come here," Coach Cooper shouted, separating me from my teammates. "Hello, son, I know this isn''t your problem, but¡ª" Mr. Cooper continued, placing his hand on my shoulder and making sure no one was around to hear, "it''s about Sheldon. You know he''s¡ª" he paused abruptly, searching for the right word, "special," he said uncertainly about the use of the word, "but nothing like what''s happening now. He''s afraid of food," he confessed quickly, speaking as if the idea were completely unheard of, "so what I wanted to ask you, as you''re my son''s friend, and I know from his word that you''re one of the few people he respects, maybe you can talk to him," Mr. Cooper asked hopefully.

    "I heard it from Sheldon; don''t worry about it, Mr. Cooper. Sometimes children of Sheldon''s age, when they experience a traumatic event, may develop a minor phobia. But I''m sure he''ll overcome it with time," I assured the man, trying to reassure him.

    "That''s exactly what I told Mary. Well, anyway, I''d appreciate it if you could talk to him," Mr. Cooper finished with a slight embarrassed smile.

    "Of course, sir. I''ll talk to Sheldon," I assured him calmly.

    With a pat on the shoulder, Coach Cooper walked toward the locker room, with me a few steps behind him.

    When we entered the locker room, to my unfortunate and unpleasant surprise, most of my teammates had already finished ''cleaning'' their sweat in the showers. The lack of hygiene in teenagers never ceases to amaze me.

    Separating from Mr. Cooper, I quickly went in to grab a towel and head to the showers, where a thick cloud of steam welcomed everyone who approached.

    After cleaning my body, making sure to clean what needed cleaning, I emerged back into the locker room, where I was relatively alone. Grabbing my things from my locker, I started dressing quickly.

    Once ready, I gathered my belongings to leave the locker room. However, in one of the locker aisles, I ran into Alan, who was quietly applying some ointment to his arms. Focusing on his arms, which until a few minutes ago during the entire training session and school duration were completely covered, I said, surprised, "Alan, what happened?" I asked, approaching the teenager to get a better look at his limbs.

    Bruises covered his long, swollen arms.

    "It''s nothing," the usually calm teenager said, strangely hiding his arms under a towel quickly.

    "Let me see; it''s clearly something, idiot," I said, a bit annoyed. "What kind of training causes this?" I asked, holding one of his arms firmly, avoiding the large bruise.

    With a hint of shame or annoyance, Alan kept his head down, muttering words I couldn''t understand until one of them sounded like ''father.''

    "Did your father do this?" I asked, surprised and upset.

    I remembered his dad; the first time we saw him, Bob and I were outside Alan''s house the day we dropped him off after the game. He was definitely a stoic and intimidating man. I didn''t think he could be an abuser.

    Not receiving a response from the teenager, I shook my head. "I''ll tell Coach Cooper," I said, determined. I couldn''t allow a man to physically abuse a teenager, especially one with two younger siblings.

    "No!" Alan raised his voice faster, and before I could react, he freed his arm from my firm grip, quickly standing up from the locker room bench. In a series of apparently carefully measured movements, he pushed my left shoulder forcefully while lightly kicking my opposite foot before pulling my shirt and forcing one of my arms slightly behind my back. "It''s not what you think, PJ. It''s just a boxing training accident. My dad teaches me to box, and like an idiot, I thought the best way to improve my guard was by toughening my forearms, hitting a tree," he explained quickly, gradually controlling his tone.

    Struggling a bit to free myself from his grip, it seemed Alan realized the position we were in. "Sorry," he immediately said, releasing my wrist, lifting his hands to his chest, and lowering his head in embarrassment.

    "Hitting a tree?" I asked seriously, not going to mention the embarrassing incident where a teenager had defeated me before I could resist.

    "I read that some Chinese martial artists did it to toughen their knuckles, and I thought I''d give it a try," the teenager explained calmly. "It was a bit embarrassing to admit," he continued, smiling almost imperceptibly.

    Staring at the teenager, thinking about what to do and trying to intimidate him, obviously without result since his ability to immobilize me was something he knew how to do and not just a stroke of luck.

    If what he says is true and it''s just something a foolish teenager would do, I would be less worried. But something didn''t feel right. I couldn''t completely judge the man after only meeting him once, but without Alan speaking up, there was very little that could be done, especially in this era. I would only embarrass my friend and his family.

    "If you''re going through something, Alan, you can always come to me, and I promise I''ll help you without exception. We''re friends," I said, surrendering to the problem, trying to appear as serious as possible.

    Being the calm teenager I knew, Alan simply nodded slightly with a hint of a smile on his face.

    Patting my friend on the shoulder silently, I said goodbye.

    "Thanks, PJ," I heard the boy say as I took a few steps.

    "You''re welcome," I replied. "By the way, stop hitting trees; they didn''t do anything to you," I joked before leaving.

    When I left school, mom was already on the main street in her car, cheerfully dancing and singing along to a song blasting from her car speakers, completely unaware that dozens of teenagers were watching her with amusement.

    "PJ!" Mom greeted happily when I opened the car door.

    "Hello," I greeted the woman as I got into the car, preparing to leave.

    Even with the music blaring through the car speakers, we drove out of the school grounds.

    After a few minutes of driving, once again thinking about my new problem with my friend, Mom asked, slightly concerned, lowering the volume of the music, "Are you okay, PJ?"

    Surprised by her ability to sense my emotions, I quickly changed my face, smiling to try to reassure the worried woman.

    "It''s just a problem at school," I assured her calmly, making her nod slightly, not entirely sure, before turning up the music again.

    After Mom parked the car outside the hospital in its usual spot, we entered, greeting Mom''s nurse colleagues.

    Having greeted all the friendly nurse colleagues of Mom, I headed to House''s office to continue the investigation to prove my theory about the medications.

    House''s office was completely empty, which was usually not common to see.

    Leaving my things on the office floor, I began searching through the books House had next to his desk for something that might be useful. Taking a book that could possibly help, I left the office and headed to the hospital library to find more information.

    I needed to know why and how colchicine damaged the kidneys.

    In the library, I found information on gout and its treatment with colchicine, confirming what I had already found the night before. Taking all the documents, I returned loaded with evidence to support my theory.

    Unlike before, House was sitting in his office, bouncing his cane on the floor, staring fixedly at the words written on the board.

    When I entered through the office door, House raised one of his eyebrows, silently asking what I had in my hands.

    "Hello, I have a theory about what might be happening to the patient," I asserted as I placed the documents on his desk.

    Turning his chair to face me, House raised his eyebrows incredulously, giving a sarcastic smile. "Enlighten me," he said sarcastically.

    "Gout," I affirmed, amused, as I leaned in to grab the book he had handed me earlier.

    Chuckling, House leaned back in his chair. "I don''t think a teenager a few years older than you has uric acid crystals in the joints, kid," he commented sarcastically, still taking the book I offered and opening it to the marked page.

    "Exactly, so why is he taking medication to treat it?" I asked as I walked to the board, grabbing a marker. "Colchicine," I said, writing the word at the top. "It blocks mitosis and stops cell division," I explained to the man who was reading the book in his hands, with a small growing smile on his face. "Which will result in abdominal pain, rash, nausea, fever, kidney failure, low blood pressure," I continued quickly, crossing out each symptom on the board.

    "And it will also mess with the bone marrow," House added as he closed the book in his hands.

    "Yeah, you were wrong. There weren''t two symptoms, just one ¨C the cough," I said sarcastically to the bitter doctor.

    "Some idiot made a mistake, and because of a cough, they caused kidney failure," House said, laughing lightly as he shook his head slightly. "I knew it," he affirmed, amused, as he stood up.

    "So, did we reach the same conclusion?" I asked, proud of myself.

    "No, I knew it would be fun having you around," the man stated with a big amused smile. "Let''s go," he said, exiting the office.

    Following House, I said, "In theory, with the treatments you applied yesterday, the patient should be better."

    "Yes, that''s true, but last night he had a relapse, and Foreman did a study of his white cell count; suddenly, it was very low," House explained.

    "His immune system was compromised," I affirmed, quickly understanding.

    "Yes, they admitted him to a clean room," House continued, frowning. "So, how does that work with your theory?" he asked, smiling strangely at me.

    "A type four," I said disappointedly.

    "Yes, we didn''t administer anything for the cough; someone must have done it. Come in," he said, pointing to a laboratory door.

    In the laboratory, the other three doctors who work with House seemed tired as they read books completely focused.

    When House entered, he caught the attention of the other three doctors present. "Gout," he affirmed, imitating the tone in which I had said it, obviously mocking me.

    Greetings to Dr. Cameron and Chase, we paid attention to Foreman, who sighed and stood up.

    "Um, are we talking about Brandon?" Chase asked.

    "Gout?" Foreman asked, frowning. "Uric acid crystals in the joints? The symptoms are pain, swelling, redness, stiffness... not one of which is on the board."

    "Because he doesn''t have gout," House responded with obviousness, leaning against one of the walls and closing his eyes with a proud smile on his face.

    "Okay, so why mention it?" Foreman asked annoyed. After a few seconds without House''s response, tired Foreman spoke again, "Aren''t you going to tell us?"

    Opening his eyes with a surprised expression, Dr. House smiled even more arrogantly. "It''s not my diagnosis, kid," he ordered, making the other three doctors focus their attention on me, two of them much more interested than the other.

    Nodding to House, I quickly explained to the three doctors what I had already explained to House.

    "But he doesn''t have gout," Chase said, denying. "Why would he have gout medication?" he asked calmly, leaning back in his chair.

    "Yeah, your idea also doesn''t explain the cough," Foreman quickly added in a neutral tone.

    "Because you guys were right," explained House, separating from the wall. "He didn''t have two conditions at the exact same time," he continued, smiling slightly with defeat, rolling his eyes for admitting he was wrong.

    "The cough is the only natural symptom," I said, making the doctors tilt their heads, still not understanding.

    "He''s an idiot," affirmed House, "he went to a doctor, who, to feel justified in charging two hundred dollars, felt the need to do something in reality," House mocked, "so whoops, he made a prescription."

    "Almost six thousand people die each year from pharmaceutical errors," I added.

    "Not nearly as many as die from doctor screw-ups, but still, not something they use in their promotional material," House added amusedly. "The pharmacist gave him gout medicine instead of cough medicine," House resolved, making the doctors understand. "And the only thing it wouldn''t do: it would do absolutely nothing to relieve his cough," he continued amusedly. "Occam''s Razor," he said to Foreman haughtily. "The simplest explanation is almost always somebody is an idiot."

    "But once he checked into this hospital, he was completely in our control," Cameron countered, theorizing. "Our food, our pills, our everything," she continued seriously. "So even if you''re right, no gout medication," she told me with a kind smile. "He''d either continue to deteriorate or he would have gotten better," she continued with a bit of disappointment. "But he got better, and then he got worse. It doesn''t fit; it doesn''t make sense."

    "So even better, two idiots at different times," said House, leaving the laboratory.

    Foreman was the first to exit behind him. As he passed by me, he simply looked at me for a few seconds before leaving through the door.

    "Well done," Chase said, patting my shoulder kindly before also leaving through the door.

    "Impressive," Cameron nodded, also leaving behind the others.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    I love remakes :D (Resident Evil 4 remake is ART)

    I was accused on one of the pages where I upload the novel of being a marketing agent for vaccination. I wish!!! At least I would earn some money doing this hobby. If you don''t want to get vaccinated, I respect your ability to decide for yourself, but I don''t respect your decision. For me, vaccination and modern medicine are a duty, not an option.

    Having said that.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

    PS2: The next chapter is closer than it seems ;D VACATION!!!!!

 Daily Drama - Chapter 31

    Following House through the hospital corridors, we quickly arrived at a small waiting room where an equally small family of three people, two women, and a man, was waiting.

    "He''s resting-" one of the three people waiting there spoke quickly, a girl of just over twenty who strangely seemed familiar to me, before being interrupted.

    "I¡¯m Dr. House," he interrupted seriously, limping forward, "I¡¯m your son¡¯s physician," he continued immediately, eliciting puzzled looks from the people in front of him.

    "Oh, you¡¯re the one we haven¡¯t met yet," the older woman sarcastically spoke as she settled into her seat.

    "You¡¯re the one he hasn¡¯t met," the man added quickly, annoyed, "how can you treat someone without meeting them?" he asked incredulously, even more upset.

    "It¡¯s easy if you don¡¯t give a crap about them," House replied ironically, leaning on his cane and surprising the people in front of him. Before the annoyed family could respond, House continued, "that''s a good thing," House commented, selling the idea, "if emotions made you act rationally, then they wouldn¡¯t be called emotions, would they?" he continued quickly, supporting his idea, "that¡¯s why we have this nice division of labor: you hold his hand, I get him better. If I start tucking him in at night, well, that¡¯s not fair to you guys, and if you start prescribing medicine, that¡¯s not fair to me," House asserted, inspecting the family''s reactions. "So what I want to know is: who stepped on my side of the med? Who cared enough to get stupid enough to give him his cough medicine?" he asked seriously, judging the family.

    "When we checked in, Dr. Foreman said-" the younger of the two women tried to say quickly.

    "Yesterday, he was getting better; later that day, he got sick again," House argued, leaning slightly toward the family seriously. "So sometime during the day, someone gave him cough medicine," he said, hinting at an unspoken question.

    The three family members of the patient fell silent, avoiding each other''s gaze.

    "Come on, nobody¡¯s gonna be mad," House assured sarcastically, "I just want to know who tried to kill the kid," he continued ironically.

    "House, I don¡¯t think-" Dr. Foreman began until the older woman interrupted him, "his throat was sore," the woman admitted with embarrassment.

    Causing House to smile triumphantly, leaning on his cane.

    "And now we know," House said humorously, nodding at me, "type four," he added sarcastically.

    House speaking directly to me caught the attention of the three family members of the patient.

    "Who is-" the man was asking before the younger woman interrupted him, "I know you," she affirmed a second after realizing my presence.

    Before the awkward moment of me not recognizing her but she recognizing me, House, with a small proud smile, put his hand on my shoulder, "impressive kid, with a woman?" he asked ironically, falsely proud.

    "Stop it," I replied quickly, removing his hand from my shoulder immediately.

    "No," the girl quickly defended herself from the puzzled looks of the other people present, "Brandon and I met him in a caf¨¦ where the barista had some kind of accident, and he took control of the situation," she explained quickly, clarifying the silent question of everyone present, including me.

    So, the patient is the guy who quickly, by mistake, applied compressions to Sarah, Brandon.

    "Well, that''s boring," House said somewhat disappointed, "where are the pills?" he asked the older woman, returning to the important topic.

    "He took the last of them before he was switched into that room," the woman admitted, somewhat desperate and ashamed.

    "They¡¯re all gone?" Cameron asked seriously.

    "It was just cough medicine," the woman declared, worried.

    "No, it wasn''t," House denied seriously, "where''s the bottle?" he asked, taking a step forward as the woman searched in her bag.

    When House got the small yellow bottle, he read the label seriously before weighing it directly to the person behind him, me.

    Certainly, the bottle''s label had Brandon''s name alongside a prescription for Benzonatate, a cough treatment medication.

    Handing the bottle to Chase, who was beside me, "anything you can remember about the medicine? The color, the shape, anything," I spoke to the worried family.

    "They were small, round, and yellow," the older woman affirmed, receiving nods from the other two family members.

    "Anything else, anything, a mark on the pill, a groove in the pill, the shape, a letter," I continued the interrogation to check all the boxes.

    "They didn¡¯t have any mark, any letter, nothing, just a very small disk-shaped pill," the girl named Mindy explained, whom I vaguely remembered.

    "Good," House said, turning to face us, "Chase, go with the family to the pharmacy and check it."

    Chase nodded and left for the hospital exit with the older woman and Mindy behind him.

    Without saying goodbye to anyone, House began to walk on his own towards one of the hospital corridors.

    Leaving Dr. Foreman and Cameron explaining the situation and the theory to possibly Brandon''s father, I quickly followed House down the hospital hallway. "I have some things to deal with Cuddy again, kid; we won''t be able to go to the clinic today."

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Understood," I replied a bit disappointed. Dealing with patients at the clinic, despite being occasionally repetitive, was great practice for patient interaction, unlike the work of a paramedic, which wasn''t always emergency cases.

    "Go watch TV; you need to kill a few brain cells," House sarcastically advised as he walked away from me.

    Recalling all the documents I had taken from the library, I headed back to House''s office to return them and avoid getting into trouble.

    After returning the borrowed documents and books, I decided to follow House''s advice and watch TV.

    Reading through the labels of the tapes stored in the video section of the library, I found various surgical procedures, one of which I had never heard of before.

    Taking the tapes, I looked for the person in charge of the hospital''s basic equipment administration.

    "Hey, nice to meet you; could I ask for a TV with a VHS player for Dr. House''s office?" I kindly asked the library materials manager, handing over the credential that Director Cuddy had allowed me to use.

    Checking the credential, looking at me suspiciously for a few seconds, the manager nodded and stood up to hand me a registration sheet with a pen.

    Thanking him quickly, I took the pen from his hand to record whatever was necessary.

    "So, do you have access to whatever you need in the hospital?" the manager asked as he pushed a cart with a TV and VHS player on top toward House''s office with me.

    "Yes, except for medications," I replied, causing him to lower his head in disappointment for some strange reason.

    "Well, that''s great, at fifteen, and you have more access to things in the hospital than many people," the manager continued with amusement as we reached House''s office.

    After he finished installing and connecting the devices, shaking his hands, "well, it was a pleasure to meet you; my name is Neil. If you need anything, ask for me," Neil said as he stretched out his hand.

    "Likewise, I''m PJ, by the way," I replied as I shook his hand firmly.

    After Neil left the extension number to return the equipment and left the office, I set up the first tape, sitting down with one of my notebooks to take notes.

    In my past life, almost all the audiovisual content I consumed was videos about surgical procedures. The fact that during such a delicately careful procedure, the present surgeons had the ability to calmly explain each step in the operation was and still is something I yearned to be able to do.

    Taking notes, watching interesting or complicated steps of the operation again and again, I lost track of time between video and video.

    "That''s The Grey Method," House suddenly said behind me, making me shift my attention from the impressive laparoscopic technique to treat gallbladders.

    "Ellis Grey, a witch, crazy and bitter general surgeon," House continued, grabbing his backpack from behind his desk. "But a brilliant mind in medicine," he added, mocking.

    "Do you know her?" I asked with interest at his description of the doctor.

    "Yeah, unfortunately," House replied sarcastically as he walked out of the room, bidding farewell with reluctance. Perplexed by House''s departure, I checked my wristwatch, surprised to find that a few minutes past the usual time we left the hospital had already gone by.

    Dialing the extension number from the phone on House''s desk, I thanked Neil before grabbing my things and quickly leaving House''s office for the hospital exit.

    "PJ," Mom greeted with a bit of fatigue on her face, sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room in front of the nurses'' desk, "I was about to call Dr. House''s office, are you done?" she asked, struggling to stand up.

    "Yes, it got a bit late; I was studying some interesting videos," I explained to her as I helped her stand.

    "It''s okay, let''s go," Mom replied, grabbing her bag from the seat next to her.

    Bidding farewell to Mom''s nurse colleagues, I walked out with her to the parking lot. "Take this," she said, stretching her hand before reaching the car.

    Extending my hand to take whatever she was giving me, I received the car keys. "You need to practice," the woman continued as she prepared to get into the passenger seat.

    Amused, not really sure if her intention was to let me practice or if she was just doing it because she was tired, I entered the car, opening the passenger door.

    "You have to press the-" Mom was saying before I started the car and smoothly left the parking lot with a few uncomplicated maneuvers onto the road while listening to the music playing in Mom''s car speakers.

    A few moments after being on the road, puzzled by the unnatural silence from Mom, I turned to confront her about it.

    With an obvious surprised look on her face, she was studying my driving posture. "How do you know how to drive so well?" she asked, astonished.

    Annoyed with myself for my foolish mistake, trying not to lose focus on the road and pretending confusion, "I pay a lot of attention when you and Dad drive," I lied, trying not to appear nervous.

    Letting out a weak laugh, Mom shook her head slightly, "clearly, you''re my son; you have my same talent for driving," she said calmly as she settled comfortably in her seat.

    When we arrived home, after I parked the car, we entered, greeting Bob who was on the living room couch, as he usually does, reading a magazine about the updates in his job.

    Leaving the two adults alone, who decided to start with dinner, I went to Teddy''s room to help her with her homework and talk for a few minutes.

    During dinner, after Bob and Mom talked about their days and asked us about ours, "So, it was all because of a mistake at the pharmacy?" Bob asked, surprised and concerned.

    "Yes, that''s the theory, but we won''t know until Thursday when Mom and I return to the hospital," I replied while calmly chewing my food.

    "Right, you don''t go to the hospital tomorrow," Bob remembered, "do you think the theory is possible?" he asked after a few moments.

    "Yes, unfortunately, it''s common for pharmacies to make mistakes when dispensing medications," I replied, not giving it much importance.

    "Well, that''s not creepy at all," Gabe commented amused, being quickly supported by Teddy nodding eagerly.

    Realizing that I could scare my siblings, I quickly tried to change the subject, "How are the songs going, Gabe?" I asked swiftly.

    Before Gabe could respond, Bob, surprised, put down his utensils on his plate quickly, "I had forgotten," he exclaimed excitedly, "one of my clients knows a music teacher offering me a great price for lessons for you," he said with a big smile, awaiting Gabe''s reaction.

    Gabe, seemingly surprised, didn''t know how to react to the shocking news. Helping an expectant Bob, I gently nudged the side of my younger brother, making him react immediately.

    Joyfully, Gabe nodded, "yes, finally," he celebrated, making the other people at the table look at him amused. "Thanks, Dad," Gabe continued after standing up to hug Bob.

    "You''re welcome, sport," Bob affectionately replied, patting his youngest son on the shoulder, "PJ told me you wanted to have a teacher," he added, smiling at me.

    After receiving the good news, Gabe began to talk non-stop about everything he had learned on his own about music.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and certainly not a doctor.

    I had planned to upload this chapter earlier today, unfortunately, the internet in my house decided not to work all day. Customer service for the internet company must be a horrible job because everyone who answered my calls seemed dead inside.

    With the whole day without internet, I had the opportunity to watch movies that I had on DVD, including ''Grave Encounters.'' I didn''t remember how much I enjoyed watching Found Footage format movies.

    So, I recommend a movie in this format that I saw a while ago and remembered today, ''Exhibit A'' is a great movie that you definitely have to watch if you, like me, enjoy this format for horror movies. (It''s not a movie with paranormal elements, which, for me, is a big plus.)

    Having said that.

    I think that''s it; as always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 32

    After finishing dinner, following what by this point was an everyday routine, Gabe, Bob, and I went to the garage to train lifting weights.

    "Nope," I said to Gabe as I took a weight plate from his hands that he was attempting to put on the barbell.

    "What?" he asked, somewhat offended. "But I''ve been alone with the bar for a long time," he argued, almost pleadingly, immediately pointing to the metal bar resting on the rack of our home gym.

    "I know, but your muscles and bones are not well developed yet, little man," I quickly replied, giving him a gentle push under the bar.

    "Dad," Gabe pleaded to Bob.

    "You heard your brother; he knows what he''s talking about," Bob responded seriously while lifting a dumbbell in each hand asynchronously.

    "Okay, okay," Gabe said in defeat as he lay back again, preparing to lift the bar. "This way, my muscles won''t grow; I don''t even lift with the same bar as you guys," he continued complaining with a furrowed brow as he lifted the bar.

    "That you''re lifting is thirty-three pounds; your load will be progressive. Don''t expect to lift anything heavier until you''re a few years older," I calmly explained to the excited kid. "Now stop complaining and continue quickly; you''re taking up space," I scolded, giving him a light tap on the forehead.

    Muttering, Gabe continued with his exercise.

    As always, Gabe entered several minutes before us to have more time to prepare for sleep. After saying goodbye to Bob and entering the house again, I also completed my nightly routine before lying down, ready for the next day.

    I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn''t nervous. Meemaw would return tomorrow with two possible outcomes: empty-handed or with a lot of money.

    Hoping that my memory was not deceiving me, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the consequences of losing so much money in such a risky bet.

    The next day unfolded normally. Waking up a few minutes before the alarm, I informed Gabe to get ready with me and go for our morning run. Once again, Gabe, pushing himself to the end, managed to run the same distance as me.

    Sending him to the only other bathroom in the house, I took the main one before having a light breakfast, ready to head out.

    Saying goodbye to Mom and the kids, Bob and I headed to school in his horrible yellow truck. "By the way, today you''ll ride back with George," Bob suddenly said during the drive to school, reminiscing as he moved to the rhythm of the music.

    "Okay," I replied to the man calmly.

    After Bob dropped me off at the school gate, as I did every day, greeting people I passed by, something I did now out of muscle memory, but when I really thought about it, I couldn''t help but be amazed at what I had missed for so many years.

    Socially isolating myself to continue studying had worked wonders for my academic ability, but now I knew I had basically lived like a recluse in the social aspect. I had no friends, and that was depressing.

    Walking gratefully, appreciating this opportunity not to be a social recluse, a few steps away from me, I ran into Kat again. She was walking briskly down the hallway, head down, bumping into people who weren''t quick enough to dodge her.

    I didn''t know Kat well enough to intrude into her life, but remembering the pleasant girl I had met several days ago, her current behavior didn''t match. It seemed like she didn''t want to talk to anyone; maybe I should talk to her friends.

    At my locker, my friends, as usual, were already stationed, talking and laughing about any current hot topic.

    "SuperStar, today you''re going for Debbie?" after greeting everyone, Brock asked, making everyone look at him with confusion.

    "Who''s Debbie?" a surprised David asked. "Are you cheating on Regina?" he asked again, much quieter, leaning into my personal space with a kind of proud look on his face.

    "No, idiot," I replied, pushing his forehead slightly, making him step back. "Debbie is a car," I explained, making Brock nod with excitement.

    "Yes, it''s my uncle''s car. SuperStar here is going to buy it," Brock added with enthusiasm.

    "No way!" Georgie exclaimed excitedly. "Finally, we''ll have a car to go after girls," he added equally excitedly, David joining in.

    "The car will be PJ''s; I highly doubt the ''girls'' will be attracted to idiots in the back seats," my usually calm friend sarcastically joked, making David and Georgie lose their excited smiles.

    "PJ!" before I could say anything to add to the hit on my silly friends, Sheldon suddenly appeared by my side with his comically oversized briefcase and perfectly arranged clothes to avoid wrinkles.

    "Hey Sheldon, good morning," I greeted the little boy.

    "Good morning to you too, PJ," Sheldon greeted back with a moderate smile on his face. "PJ''s friends," he added, nodding to the other present teenagers.

    "You look much better," I affirmed, and it was true. Now he had his usual pale complexion and didn''t seem to be low on energy. "Did you decide to start eating again?" I asked, happy that he looked much better.

    "Oh no, solid foods are a health hazard," the boy immediately replied with certainty. "Mom decided to liquefy all my solid foods and give them to me in liquid form," he explained completely seriously.

    "It''s a good temporary solution, but you have to overcome this fear soon. Skipping chewing is not healthy," I told the boy while starting to organize things in my locker.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "I don''t understand, why is chewing solid foods important?" the little boy genuinely asked.

    "Well, chewing is an essential part of the digestive process, Sheldon. When you chew, you not only physically break down the food, but you also initiate the release of digestive enzymes in the mouth, which facilitates digestion. Besides, by liquefying your food, you might be missing certain nutrients, like insoluble fiber, which is essential for your digestive health," I explained calmly. "You''re nine years old, Sheldon, and you''re a healthy kid. Supplements are for much older people than you or those who don''t have such a healthy digestive system," I tried to explain, being as serious as possible.

    "I appreciate your concern, PJ, but as I said before, I have many things to achieve, and a poorly chewed sausage won''t stand in my way," Sheldon said resolutely.

    "Okay, just think about what I said," I told the boy, not wanting to press him further, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

    "I will," the little boy assured me seriously.

    Before I could ask my friends if they were ready to walk to our first class, I met a familiar look, surprise marked on the faces of almost all my friends.

    "It''s always surprising to remember how smart you are," Alan said calmly, explaining the shock among my friends.

    "I''m much smarter," Sheldon said, apparently offended that his incredible brain wasn''t being praised. "True, but you''re a high school kid; it''s not that impressive after a while," my calm friend explained ironically, nodding for us to start walking.

    As we walked to our first-period class, David and Brock seemed to have remembered how Sheldon had greeted them all while making fun of Georgie. "PJ''s friend," they teased.

    The day unfolded like any other school day. Sheldon, with his now much more normal anemic state, eagerly raised his hand every time a teacher asked a question, making me match his energy a bit by answering the questions asked in class.

    During lunch, nothing important happened. Each small group of friends at the table talked about their own topics of interest, and although I tried more than once to silently engage in a conversation with Alan, he always excused himself, claiming to be in another conversation.

    At the end of the day, following Georgie through the school hallways, we reached his father''s office inside the school''s locker rooms. "Hello, PJ," Mr. Cooper greeted cheerfully as he gathered his things to say goodbye to Coach Wilkins.

    The ride home with Mr. Cooper and Georgie was filled with pleasant, quiet chats about our days and plans for the upcoming games scheduled for the next few weeks.

    When we reached our street and, therefore, in front of the Cooper''s house, after thanking him, I got out of Mr. Cooper''s car before going into the house. Before going to Meemaw''s house, which was across the street, I planned to drop my things in my room so that I wouldn''t have to carry my backpack.

    Halfway back outside the house, the sound of the door being knocked surprised me. Hurrying my pace, I opened the door to find a very serious Meemaw. "Can I come in?" the woman asked cryptically.

    Moving a few steps, I allowed the still serious woman to enter, who slowly took a seat on the living room couch, exhaling a large amount of air. "Did you see the fight, PJ?" Meemaw asked again.

    "No," it was true. Since it was a pay-per-view event and without access to a newspaper from that day, I hadn''t found out the result of the fight.

    "PJ," the woman said slowly, "you have to go to a casino," she continued while carefully searching in her bag, pulling out an envelope with great care. "Your luck is impressive," she said, offering me the paper.

    Taking the envelope from her hand, I slowly opened it to pull out a thin check. "215,600 dollars," the elderly woman exclaimed with excitement before I could see the contents of the check, standing up abruptly from the couch. "At the moment I placed the bet, the odds were 56 to 1; a few moments later, they stabilized at 41 to 1. The whole situation was an incredible stroke of luck, Aces. I have to take you to a casino to play roulette. With your luck, you can bet on green and win every time," she affirmed, laughing nervously.

    The check in my hands felt so heavy, while a pressure I didn''t know I had in my chest disappeared completely. Six numbers in a row were such an absurd amount to my eyes and brain. I had much more money than I had ever had anywhere.

    "I have to go to a bank to give you your ten percent," I told Meemaw with a somewhat choked voice; excitement was making my hands tremble.

    Laughing, Meemaw gently put her hands on mine, stopping the trembling of my hands. "None of that, kid. You saved my Moonpie, and," she added while searching in her bag again, "I followed your example," she continued, pulling out another envelope from her bag. "I bet six hundred of my own dollars," she continued with excitement. "You made me win a lot of money; it wouldn''t be fair for me to charge you for it," she continued, dancing happily.

    "But¡ª" I tried to speak, but the woman raised her hand in front of my face. "Don''t make me regret it, kid. I don''t want to do the math of what I''m letting go of. Now you have a big problem on your hands. I''ll leave you to solve it," she said as she took her bag, carefully putting away her own check before quickly leaving the house, closing the door behind her.

    It took me a few seconds to understand its implication. I was a minor with a six-figure check; I necessarily needed one of my guardians to handle the money. Slowly sitting on the sofa while still looking at the check in my hands, I contemplated it for what could have been several minutes.

    My concentration on the piece of paper was broken when the door of the house opened with force. A cheerful Teddy entered the house, accompanied by her two friends. Without stopping, seemingly not noticing my presence, the three teenagers quickly entered my sister''s room.

    Next was Bob, who entered with a playful smile. "Hey champ, you''re already here," he said, noticing my presence.

    "Hi, Dad," I said somewhat nervously about what was coming; I had to tell him. "Where''s Gabe?" I asked, trying to prolong the conversation.

    "I left him at the academy today; I enrolled him, and the teacher allowed him to stay. He was so excited," he said happily, taking the TV remote control to also sit on the couch. "How was your day?" he asked while focused on changing the channel.

    "It was fine," I replied awkwardly, still pretending to be rigid but avoiding damaging the check.

    "I''m glad. I¡ª" Bob was saying, but I interrupted.

    "I have something to tell you."

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and much less a doctor.

    I would like to clarify a few things.

    1. I have never made a ''professional'' bet in my life, much less in the United States (read the second line of this section), so I don''t know how it works outside of vague ideas that the entertainment world shows. I know there''s some tax-related to it, but let''s completely ignore it and think that it was paid.

    2. In my notes for the novel, I had a maximum moment for the odds of the fight being 56-1, but now doing the search again, the maximum I found was 41-1. I don''t know where I made that mistake, but I apologize to sports fans and that specific fight; let''s imagine that, as it is a parallel universe, the odds of that fight are also.

    3. Possibly the resolution I gave with Meemaw''s decision not to take the 10% may bother many because it doesn''t match 100% with the character. I decided to do it this way because it''s the idea I have of a person euphoric about winning a lot of money in something they would lose a lot (meaning that Meemaw decided that since PJ prevented her from losing the $600 and won that by 56, then PJ''s money didn''t belong to her at all).

    4. I keep receiving comments about the strange way the MC refers to Bob. It''s something I want to resolve differently in the future. Now I realize the vague way I resolved this situation with Mom, which, although I still like the idea, doesn''t match 100% with what the character''s psychology should be. That''s why I want to do it differently with Bob/dad this time; I hope it''s much better.

    (Impressive the number of things in this section; apologies.)

    Having said that.

    I think that''s it; as always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 33

    "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Bob shouted, obviously annoyed.

    "I bet all my saved money on Mike Tyson''s fight," I quickly repeated in response to the impressively upset man''s question.

    "Silence!" Bob shouted again, raising his hand in front of his face. "I heard you the first time," he continued, taking a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself.

    "Sorry, I thought you-" I was explaining, but again, Bob stood up from the chair, "QUIET!" he interrupted, completely furious, his face turning slightly red and trembling.

    Walking around in circles with his hands on his head, Bob shook his head, "I can''t believe it," he ironically affirmed, "out of all the stupid things you could have done," he said without looking at me, "betting your savings."

    "I also bet the thousand dollars you gave me," I said without thinking, immediately regretting it.

    "WHAT?" Bob stopped his agitated pacing again, completely incredulous, shouting loudly.

    Teddy''s closed door opened quickly, revealing the intrigued teenager amidst all the shouting.

    Stopping Teddy with a simple gesture before she could step out of her room, Bob ordered, showing false calmness, "I''m discussing things with your brother, turn up your music," making Teddy nod quickly as she went back into her room.

    A few seconds later, music started playing from the room where the three teenagers were, surely intrigued by what was happening outside.

    "I thought you were much more responsible," disappointed Bob said while still standing, leaning against the back of the chair. "I let myself be blinded by your grades and all the good things your teachers say about you," he said, seeming ashamed. "You''re in so much trouble," angrily shaking his head, Bob affirmed seriously, staring at me intensely. "One week, NO, one month," he decreed, squeezing his hand and chin.

    "Dad-" I tried to stop him to explain, but he interrupted me again, raising his hand quickly.

    "You won''t have a car until you pay back every cent of the thousand dollars I stupidly lent you, and then you''ll have to work on your own to afford one, if at that point I think you deserve a car," the man declared, straightening up on his still furious feet while shaking his head slightly, never breaking eye contact. "A bet to win a few dollars," he scoffed sarcastically with obvious disappointment.

    "Actually, it was fifty-six to one," I felt the need to defend myself quickly.

    Again, immediately regretting my stupid decision to speak without thinking.

    "Fifty-six to one!!!" Bob shouted again, raising his hands. "Fifty-six to one!" he continued, saying each word completely incredulous at the idea. "How can you be so-" Bob was saying, but stopped himself, "foolish," he said after a moment, "to understand this but work alongside doctors in a hospital?" he continued, asking rhetorically with a defeated head.

    Slowly sitting back in the chair in front of me, "even I can do those math, PJ, obviously you were going to lose, just look at those odds, fifty-six to one."

    "But-" I managed to say before Bob interrupted me again.

    "Don''t interrupt me," he said slowly, as if restraining himself. "Wait until your mother arrives; we''re going to thoroughly discuss the punishment for your stupid decision to gamble and lose the money."

    "Dad-" again, an attempt to explain myself.

    "You''ll work for all the neighbors in the neighborhood until you pay off your debt. You''ll be a babysitter, do garden work, and you won''t go out on weekends," he began to enumerate, not interested in what I was about to say. With each item, it seemed like his anger was returning full force, once again getting up from the chair to walk back and forth.

    Tired of him not listening to me, standing up, I shouted a bit frustrated, "I DIDN''T LOSE!"

    "Eh?" Bob asked suddenly, stopping.

    "I didn''t lose, look," I affirmed, handing him the piece of paper.

    Taking the check, exhaling disbelief slowly, Bob read its contents.

    After a few seconds of an uncomfortable silence, Bob slowly, with slightly shaky legs ¨C if the tremor in his knees meant anything ¨C sat down. "Two hundred fifteen thousand six hundred dollars," I completed, stating the amount from memory. I had the number engraved in my mind after several moments of contemplating the check on my own.

    Still holding the check in his hands, Bob slowly lifted his face, staring at me with marked incredulity. "What?" he asked, apparently still not believing it.

    "I had a feeling," I said, unsure if it was a sufficient explanation.

    "A feeling?" Bob asked, amused and offended at the same time, snorting through his nose.

    Relieved that Bob finally stopped shouting, I also snorted slightly.

    Shortly after the two of us uncomfortably laughed, Bob seemed to remember the gravity of the situation. "Don''t think for a second that I approve of what you did," the man said seriously, raising his finger.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "I understand, and I genuinely apologize. I promise it won''t happen again," I said earnestly, truly repentant. Upon deep reflection, the bet was a completely risky and stupid action.

    After several seconds of staring at me, Bob nodded slightly. "Alright," he sighed, "I''m glad you understand, son," he said much calmer, "this will never happen again," he declared determinedly, "especially not with money already earmarked for something," he added ironically, "money is to be used responsibly," the man explained, pointing at me with one of his hands, ironically the one still holding the six-figure check.

    "I understand," I nodded resolutely.

    "Good," Bob smiled widely, looking again at the check in his hands, "we need to deposit this into your college savings account," he stated.

    "Do I have a college savings account?" I asked pleasantly surprised.

    "Now you do," Bob affirmed playfully, handing me the check carefully as he walked past me toward Teddy''s room.

    Opening the door slightly before knocking twice to open it completely, "I''m going out with your brother for a few minutes. Do you want anything?" I heard Bob say before he walked away again towards his room.

    A moment later, Bob returned with a small folder in his hands. "Let''s go to the bank; it''s dangerous to have an undeposited check," the man said as he took the keys to his not-so-great truck from the small table by the entrance. "By the way, you''re treating your sister and her friends to ice cream," he added with a grin, shaking his head as he left the house, with me following.

    The car ride to the bank was uncomfortably silent, only occasionally broken by Bob''s small snorts.

    "I was thinking," I said somewhat nervously, presenting the idea.

    "What?" Bob asked abruptly.

    "Instead of putting the money in a savings account, why not invest it?" I asked quickly. "Safe investments that grow the amount slowly until the day I need it," I continued speaking rapidly, seeing how the man frowned. I couldn''t miss this opportunity, and if Bob refused, I would have to wait two years to make my own decisions.

    "Investment?" Bob asked, still focused on the road.

    "Yes, I don''t understand it very well, but it''s like buying part of a company and then waiting for the value of the company to grow enough to grow your invested money," I tried to explain as best as I could. I really didn''t know how it worked, only that some people did it to become very rich.

    "I don''t know," he said, apparently not very convinced. "It doesn''t sound very safe," he added calmly as he continued driving.

    "According to what I''ve read, there are indeed stocks that are not very safe, but there are others that are," I explained quickly.

    Still not convinced, Bob gripped the steering wheel. "I tell you what," after a few seconds of contemplating, he said, "after opening your account, we can go wherever they do those things and ask. I don''t promise anything," he added calmly.

    "Okay," I said relieved. "Thanks, Dad."

    "Don''t thank me yet," the man said ironically.

    After several minutes of driving, we arrived on the street where the bank was located. For how small Medford was, the bank was quite sizable.

    At the bank, after explaining the reason we were there, one of the employees led us to the person in charge of opening accounts. Quickly and with the necessary documentation, with Bob''s help, we opened an account supervised by guardians, in this case, Bob.

    "We''re going to deposit this check, and I''ll give you your account passbook," the banker said with a big smile, getting up from his seat. "Again, Mr. Duncan, I thank you for choosing our bank," raising his hand, the man shook Bob''s hand warmly.

    After shaking my hand too, we followed the man to one of the desks, where he cheerfully greeted the woman behind the desk before handing her the check along with the account passbook.

    "From now on, if you need to deposit more money or if you need to withdraw, just hand the passbook to one of our lovely cashiers, and she''ll take care of updating the account status," the man explained as he shamelessly winked at the woman, who apparently ignored the banker without interest.

    When the woman finished with a professional smile, she handed over the passbook. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" the banker asked, still maintaining his wide smile.

    Apparently recalling our conversation, "Yes, actually, is there anyone here who can explain about ''investments''?" Bob asked.

    "Is anyone available?" the banker turned again to the cashier and asked.

    "Warren is always here," the woman replied, shrugging one of her shoulders.

    "Yes, he''s always here," the banker forcibly nodded. "Well, I''m pretty sure Warren can answer your questions as well as anyone else," with a somewhat forced smile, the banker affirmed, "just a small warning, Warren can be," he added, pausing to find a word to define the other man, "special," he finally said.

    "Special how?" Bob asked worriedly.

    "Oh, not in a bad way," the banker quickly explained, "it''s just that Warren Lynch is too focused on his job," the man added as he guided us through the bank to an office with the door open.

    Warren Lynch''s office explained the warning the banker had given. From the open door of the office, we could see hundreds of books, magazines, and newspapers of different types scattered everywhere.

    With two knocks on the door frame, the banker caught the attention of a strange man working behind an equally messy desk.

    Writing on one of the several papers on his desk, the man who appeared to be a little over his forties raised his head in surprise.

    "Jefferson," the man greeted the banker, completely ignoring my and Bob''s presence right next to the man.

    "Warren, let me introduce Mr. Duncan and his son PJ. They''re here to ask you some questions," the banker explained, drawing the strange man''s attention to us.

    "Ah," surprised to find two other people in front of him, the man took a few seconds to react, "of course, of course," excitedly, the man stood up, throwing a bunch of papers resting on his legs, "please, go ahead," he said as he walked around his desk to clean up the many papers that also rested on the other chairs, "please," with a big smile, the man pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk.

    "Excuse me," apologetically, the banker whispered his goodbye to us.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, and "Not a Doctor" (someone mentioned it, and it certainly reminds me of Brooklyn 99, RIP Andre Braugher).

    Last chapter of the year.

    I''d like to clarify a few things.

    1. As the first paragraph of this section says, I''m not American, so I don''t know how creating a bank account works in that country, much less one in 1990.

    2. I am extremely poor; currently, in my bank account, I have the equivalent of 240 US dollars. Therefore, I obviously don''t know how investments, the stock market, or anything similar works. Everything I know is from the world of entertainment, so be prepared for the amount of nonsense I''m going to come up with in the next chapters (basically a bit more nonsense than usual).

    3. A few days ago, I did the following internet search: "best investors in the world." Warren Buffett was one of the names that appeared. I don''t know who he is or what his personality is like. I explain this because I''m simply using his name in the story. I hope this doesn''t offend anyone; it''s not my intention. I just wanted a name that would justify what will happen over time in this story.

    Having said that.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

    PS2: Many thanks to all who wished me a Merry Christmas. Although I couldn''t respond at the time, it was nice to read your comments. Happy New Year! I hope your goals are achieved, but above all, I hope the world doesn''t end.

    See you next year (very bad joke).

 Daily Drama - Chapter 34

    The first one to ask questions was Bob, obviously interested in investments and their implications. Surprisingly, Warren Lynch promptly answered every technical question from Bob.

    "Investing long-term in solid companies allows you to take advantage of the steady market growth," Mr. Lynch explained excitedly while showing Bob a chart. Judging by Bob''s intrigued expression, it was clear he couldn''t grasp the information.

    After answering Bob''s question, Mr. Lynch fell silent. With a smile, he read one of his charts. A moment later, Lynch, losing his smile, started shuffling through papers on his desk with growing anxiety, searching for something amid the disorder.

    The eccentric man''s actions heightened Bob''s existing concern. Glancing at me with a worried look, Bob silently nodded toward the office door.

    Understanding Bob''s concern, I nodded in defeat. My plans involved starting to invest at this moment in my life. It was a pity that the first person we encountered was someone as eccentric as Warren Lynch. This would only delay all my opportunities.

    Looking at Mr. Lynch, who seemed to have found whatever he had been searching for among his papers, I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.

    "Mr. Lynch, if you had an initial capital of a hundred thousand dollars, where would you invest it?" I asked, testing the man.

    Upon hearing his name, Mr. Lynch lifted his head from his desk. "Well, young man, that depends a lot on how willing I am to risk my money," he cheerfully said. "A hundred thousand dollars may sound like a lot, but it really isn''t. So, I''ll assume I don''t want to risk that capital," he continued while quickly grabbing a piece of paper from his desk.

    "If I think of a safe long-term investment, I might consider real estate, usually a moderately priced residential property. Taking into account property taxes and transfer taxes in the state of Texas, possibly, and being generous, I could buy two properties that could double or triple their value in the coming decades," he explained while writing on the paper without pausing.

    "Now, if we want to take a bit more risk for better gains, we could invest the capital in the stock market, looking for a company with a solid financial history to ensure that, despite being somewhat riskier than buying and selling real estate, it is relatively safe," he continued while speaking and scribbling on the paper at a fast pace.

    "Then we have the riskiest of all, short selling," he said, pausing slightly in his scribbling. "With a hundred thousand dollars, this option might not be the best to take. I would wait for my capital to grow before delving into short selling," he concluded, handing over the paper he had been working on in the last few seconds with a small smile.

    Bob took the paper, frowned at it for a few seconds, then handed it to me, shrugging, apparently not understanding Mr. Lynch''s scribbles.

    The paper contained many calculations that I could recognize as probability calculations, along with a variety of charts divided into three sections. It wasn''t really complicated to understand that the subdivisions referred to short, medium, and long-term, as well as the risk of each option.

    "If I wanted to invest in the stock market, which companies would you recommend?" I asked the smiling man again, making him extend his smile even further as he quickly stood up.

    "That''s a great question. Many would recommend ''safe'' investments, trusting in the overall economy of the country, oil, metals, government bonds," he said while shuffling through a stack of papers on one of his furniture pieces. "And yes, they are certainly investments with a great potential for growth," he continued, now carrying another stack of papers to his desk. "But I lean more towards betting on the future," he said, leaving the documents on his desk.

    "Technology?" I asked, feeling more confident as I watched the man smile broadly.

    "Exactly, my teenage friend," the man affirmed excitedly. "There has never been such a boom in an economic sector like technology before ¨C communications, transportation, medicine, science, many more things that I''m sure we haven''t seen anything of yet," he commented with a growing ecstatic smile. "Personally, I''ve invested a significant portion of my own income in various technology companies," he said, ignoring Bob and handing me document after document compiling numbers and stock prices of different companies. Names like IBM, Intel, Sun Microsystems appeared prominently on each document until one caught my attention.

    "What do you think of this company, Microsoft?" I said, setting aside one of the documents.

    "You have a good eye," the man nodded vigorously. If possible, he widened his smile even more. "Since its IPO in nineteen eighty-seven until this year, its annual stock price has grown by two hundred percent," surprisingly, without needing to check any notes, he said with great excitement.

    "Although Microsoft is definitely a company worth investing in, if I only had an initial capital of a hundred thousand dollars, I would allocate no more than twenty percent for those shares. The rest I would divide among these others," much more serious than Bob and I had seen him before, he pushed two documents into my hands.

    Cisco Systems and Oracle read at the top of the pages.

    I had never heard of them.

    Before I could ask, Mr. Lynch began to explain, "it went public a few months ago, Cisco Systems is a technology company that focuses on the development of networking equipment and technologies. Unlike Microsoft, which focuses on operating system development, Cisco Systems is working on what seems to be the future ¨C machine-to-machine communication," cryptically, the man declared. "Imagine talking to someone in another country within minutes," he explained dreamily, causing Bob to involuntarily snort.

    "What they''re working on is the creation of a network system. It may seem futuristic, but it''s real," feeling the need to speak again, the man explained to Bob.

    Looking at one of the papers in my hand, I didn''t know how to react. If what Mr. Lynch said was true, Cisco Systems was possibly a great option to invest in.

    "Oracle, on the other hand, is focused on developing database management systems. For several months, I''ve been trying to convince the bank to purchase this product because, as I mentioned before, I always like to bet on the future," smiling, the man leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands.

    Seeing the multitude of papers in his office, I was sure why the man insisted on the bank getting a database manager.

    Previously unsure due to his eccentric behavior, with the last data he claimed, for someone like Bob, it might seem like science fiction, but for me, it was an obvious choice ¨C Warren Lynch knew what he was talking about.

    Excited about what I could achieve with someone like Lynch managing my money, I was about to accept and hire him as my stockbroker until I remembered Bob by my side.

    "Can we discuss it for a moment?" I silently asked Mr. Lynch, requesting that he give Bob and me space to talk.

    Understanding the silent request, the man got up from his chair, "I think I forgot something; I''ll be back in a moment," uncomfortably, he left his own office, stumbling and almost falling with a bunch of papers in his path.

    "What is there to discuss, PJ? The man is clearly insane," immediately as Mr. Lynch left his office, Bob

    , shaking his head, stood up.

    "His attitude may be a bit eccentric," I said, trying to stop Bob. "Well, quite eccentric," I corrected myself, seeing the look of disbelief on Bob''s face, "but I think he knows what he''s talking about," I quickly continued.

    "I don''t know, PJ," Bob was saying, "no, Dad, listen to me. Right now, what he says exists, but it''s still relatively small, connecting only a few computers to each other. I''m completely sure that in a few years, there will be a very large network of connections all over the world. If what he says is true and these companies are preparing for this, we have to take advantage of it," I interrupted.

    "I don''t think it''s safe, PJ. We need to think about it and¡ª" still uncertain, Bob was saying, "I have a feeling," I interrupted seriously, hoping that it would be reason enough to convince him.

    Seeing how Bob still wasn''t entirely convinced, "Dad, it''s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know it''s not a great reasoning, but it''s the same feeling I had with the bet," I said calmly, "if we don''t do this, I''m sure we''ll regret it in the future," I quickly continued, preventing my statement from bothering him.

    Deep in thought, Bob nodded. "Okay," he finally said after releasing a sigh, making me clench my fists in celebration. "But," he continued immediately, interrupting my small celebration, "I have conditions."

    Nodding quickly, I nervously said, "Yes, whatever."

    "Your grades will stay perfect, enough to get one of those incredible scholarships at a medical school. You will also finish a degree. If you lose interest in medicine, then in something else," the man said seriously.

    "It would be hypocritical of me to deny you this. This money didn''t exist, although the way you acquired it won''t happen again; it still belongs to you, and you deserve to do with it as you please," he admitted, defeated. "At least I''m relieved that you use it thinking about your future," he added with a small relieved smile.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "Thank you, Dad," I thanked the man, feeling a weight I didn''t know I had on my shoulders disappear. With this, I was sure to secure my future.

    "You''re welcome, PJ. Now that he''s back, I have a few more questions for the man, and then you can do whatever you want," he ordered, leaving no room for negotiation.

    Gratefully nodding, I waited with Bob for Mr. Lynch to return.

    A few minutes later, Lynch returned with a small glass in his hands.

    "I have a few more questions for you, Mr. Lynch," Bob asked as soon as the man took a seat behind his desk.

    With much more seriousness than before, Lynch prepared in his seat to answer them.

    Bob asked dozens of questions, all related to the security of my money if we decided to invest in the companies the man spoke about.

    "I assure you, Mr. Duncan, if you allow me to be your stockbroker, I will ensure to execute the orders you give me to the letter. I will also provide you with the best financial advice that my education allows. I research the market every day; you can be sure that I will do everything possible to grow your money," surprisingly professionally, the man affirmed.

    "Good," Bob agreed seriously.

    "Perfect," Mr. Lynch cheered, "let me explain what it means for me to be your broker," he was saying.

    "Oh, no, it would be a service for PJ," Bob explained proudly.

    "Ah, then, my young friend," excitedly, the man nodded.

    Pulling out several papers from his portfolio, Mr. Lynch began to explain the fees and commissions related to managing a portfolio, as well as related taxes and a bunch of technical things that we simply had to trust.

    "Since my young friend is still underage, the contract for my services as well as the bank''s services must be signed by a guardian," the man explained, handing the contract to Bob, who slowly began to read it. "It''s basically written there what I just explained to you with many legal technical words. This contract is valid for a period of ten years; then we can draft another one, but until then, you can be sure that the fees will not change," while Bob read the contract extensively, Mr. Lynch explained.

    With the pen in his hand, Bob looked at me seeking approval, and nervously, I nodded quickly.

    "Perfect," Mr. Lynch celebrated with a big smile, "you are my first clients. Let''s get rich together," he declared excitedly.

    The revelation surprised Bob, making him start coughing vigorously.

    Unable to help it, I laughed at his reaction. I, too, had been a bit surprised until I thought about the way the man behaves. It''s not strange that people don''t have enough confidence in his words; if I didn''t come from a few years in the future, I''m not sure I would have trusted him either.

    "So, how do you plan to invest your money?" the man asked, pulling another blank sheet from his desk.

    After outlining what would be my investment plan, dividing the two hundred thousand dollars into the companies Mr. Lynch had recommended, as well as Microsoft, just to be sure, we bid farewell to Mr. Lynch with two hundred thousand dollars less in my savings account.

    "Well, you still have fifteen thousand dollars quite good in your account," Bob commented amusingly as we walked out of the hallway where the stockbroker''s office was located.

    "We have to withdraw money to pay for the car and buy ice cream for Teddy and her friends," I reminded Bob.

    "True," with a pained expression, Bob nodded, probably calculating the remaining money in my account as we walked towards one of the tellers.

    Quickly with the account passbook in hand, Bob withdrew two thousand dollars from my savings account.

    Upon leaving the bank, Bob checked his wristwatch, "look at that, we took longer than I could expect. We can go get your brother now," Bob said, opening the door to his awful truck.

    Still with many papers specifying my investments in my hands, I got into Bob''s truck.

    The trip to Gabe''s new "music school" was quite fast, in a house not far from the bank. Bob quickly got out and, a few seconds later, returned with a smiling Gabe carrying his backpack.

    "PJ!" the excited boy shouted my name as soon as he got into the car.

    "Hello, buddy, how was your first day?" I asked.

    "It was spectacular," the ecstatic boy affirmed. "My teacher is great; he has a guitar that connects to a black box called an amplifier, and he let me play it. He said I have the greatest talent he has ever seen. He also knows how to play the piano and said he would teach me that too," the boy quickly explained with excitement, demonstrating his age.

    "I''m happy for you, little one, but just because you''re good at it doesn''t mean you shouldn''t make an effort," I explained, supported by Bob.

    "Yes, I know; Mr. Ray said the same thing," Gabe seriously affirmed.

    A few minutes later, with Gabe still explaining everything he learned with his teacher, we arrived at the ice cream shop. "And ice cream too?" Gabe asked cheerfully. "Today is the best day ever," he asserted, quickly getting out of the car as soon as Bob parked.

    Following Gabe into the store after receiving Bob''s orders, "choose whatever you want, little one, my treat," pushing Gabe slightly, who seemed surprised by my statement, I entered the shop.

    After buying a few liters of ice cream, we returned to the truck, Gabe happily licking his own ice cream.

    When we arrived home, "I''ll go with George to get the car; you go and deliver the ice cream," Bob ordered as he walked towards the Cooper''s house.

    Following Gabe into the house, I separated from my little brother, who ran to our room, probably excited to put into practice what he had learned in his classes. Leaving the ice creams on the dining table, I walked to Teddy''s room.

    After knocking on the door, I waited a few seconds until my sister allowed me to enter.

    "Hello, Baja, Bianca, how are you?" I greeted Teddy''s friends, who seemed surprised after I remembered their names.

    "How''s your sister, Bianca?" seizing the opportunity, I asked after receiving responses from both teenagers.

    "She''s fine, I guess," the teenager responded without seeming very sure.

    "I''m glad," I affirmed

    , unsure about her response. "Well, there''s ice cream on the dining table; help yourselves before Gabe remembers there''s more ice cream," I continued while saying goodbye to the teenagers, leaving the house again.

    Outside the house, Bob was already chatting happily with Mr. Cooper next to his truck. "There you are. Let''s go; George offered to give us a ride in his truck," laughing, Bob friendly hit Mr. Cooper''s shoulder, opening the passenger door of Mr. Cooper''s truck. Bob indicated for me to get in.

    The journey to Brock''s uncle''s house was, in one word, cramped. Being sandwiched between the two burly men while guiding Mr. Cooper from memory to Brock''s uncle''s house, where I would buy the car, was an experience I wouldn''t want to repeat, ever.

    "It''s there, where the ''sold'' sign is," I said, pointing to Brock''s uncle''s house.

    After Mr. Cooper parked his car, the three of us got out, me leading the way ahead of the two adults, who stayed back to reveal the car. I knocked on the door, stepping back a pace and waiting for the man to come out.

    With a big smile, which was immediately wiped off his face, Brock''s uncle opened the door. "It''s you, kid. I thought you wouldn''t come," he said defeatedly as he stepped out of the house, looking at where his car was. "Debbie," I overheard him whisper longingly.

    "Yes, sorry for the delay, Mr. Kingman." We hadn''t actually agreed on a time, but seeing his mood, I''m sure this approach is much better.

    "Ah, it''s okay," the man sighed, still staring at the car.

    "No way," we suddenly heard Mr. Cooper say. "Jet Kingman," the man continued as he approached.

    Brock''s uncle quickly wiped his eyes from what seemed like tiny tears before changing his expression to a bright smile, cheerfully approaching Mr. Cooper with a big laugh.

    "Do you guys know each other?" Bob asked while greeting Mr. Kingman with a firm handshake. "Bob Duncan," he introduced himself, receiving Mr. Kingman''s name in return.

    "Oh no, Jet here was in his senior year when I entered high school. The best racing record this town has ever seen," Mr. Cooper pointed out with excitement, gesturing to Brock''s uncle, who accepted the words with false modesty. "Yes, that was a great time," Mr. Kingman admitted with false humility. "Now, I don''t know what the current coach is doing. If it weren''t for the game these kids won, I would bet the coach either doesn''t know how to do his job or just doesn''t want to do it," the man continued mockingly, surprising everyone present, especially Mr. Cooper, the current coach, who began to cough bitterly.

    "So, the car, PJ told me about it," Bob quickly changed the subject, focusing attention on the now uncovered car a few steps away.

    "Ah yes, Debbie. Unfortunately, my wife doesn''t want us to take her to Canada with us, and I couldn''t do anything else but sell her," the man approached the car with sadness, lightly caressing the top of the car. He leaned slightly, apparently whispering words to the car.

    "Well, I just wanted to make sure PJ isn''t making a mistake," Bob explained as he approached the car. "Can we start it?" he asked.

    Mr. Kingman, who had kept his face close to the car, took a few seconds to respond. "Sure," he said as he moved away from the car, walking back to the house.

    "It seems like you have a magnet for eccentric people," Bob laughed as Mr. Kingman entered his house.

    "I don''t do my job well," the offended Mr. Cooper snorted as he also walked near the car.

    "Don¡ät hear that Coach. You do your job very well," I assured the annoyed man.

    Shaking his head with a small smile, "thanks, son," Mr. Cooper said, lightly patting my back.

    "Okay, let''s hear Debbi roar," Mr. Kingman returned outside with the car key in hand, a sad expression on his face.

    Bob and Mr. Cooper started testing the car, inspecting both the exterior and the interior. Surely, Mr. Cooper, not pleased with Mr. Kingman''s opinion about the way he does his job, was particularly meticulous in all aspects of the car, even seriously checking the engine.

    "How much did you agree on?" Bob asked calmly.

    "Fifteen hundred," Mr. Kingman replied with pain.

    "All right, that seems like a fair price," Bob nodded, giving me the go-ahead to proceed with the payment.

    "I''ve got your money here, Mr. Kingman," as I pulled out the small stack of bills, I tried to hand it to the man, who tightly held the key in his hand.

    Seeing that he didn''t accept the money, I was about to lower my hand until, "Kevin!" from the doorway, Brock''s aunt, whom I had met a few days ago, came out swiftly. "How are you, dear? How''s Joey doing?" as she passed by me, maintaining a friendly smile, she asked while snatching the key from the reluctant man''s hand.

    "He''s doing fine," I assured the woman.

    "Well, that''s perfect. Please keep an eye on him," the woman kindly requested, and then, turning to Kevin, she said, "and you, Kevin, go get the damn papers," immediately changing her attitude, the woman ordered her husband, who quickly nodded and ran into the house.

    "There you go," the woman said, handing the car key while keeping her palm open, waiting for the money, which I quickly handed over, somewhat intimidated by her abrupt changes in attitude.

    A moment later, Mr. Kingman came out of the house carrying a small folder in one hand and a pen in the other.

    Still reluctant and with teary eyes, Mr. Kingman seemed not to want to open the documents. "Oh, drop the act, Kevin," exasperated, the woman snatched the papers from her husband''s palm, opening the papers for the property transfer. "You just have to sign this, and that''s it, dear," changing her attitude again with a friendly smile, the woman handed me the papers.

    After Mr. Kingman, reluctantly forced by his wife, and I signed the papers, we bid farewell to the couple as Mr. Kingman was dragged by his partner into the house.

    "That''s not something you see every day," Bob joked, nodding along with Mr. Cooper, who was getting into his truck and mocking the couple.

    "Let''s go," Bob said, walking up to the car. "Your mom says you know how to drive; let''s see if that''s true," he continued, getting into the passenger side.

    Upon returning home after parking the car and having Bob thank Mr. Cooper, I entered the house to do my pending tasks and study the book House had left me.

    While Gabe played one of his guitars, I was entirely focused on studying the book. "Patrick John Dart Duncan!" suddenly, my name was shouted by an obviously upset woman.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, Not a Doctor AND not a Brocker/Economics/Banker/Nothing (thats a new one).

    The first chapter of the year.

    So, I changed the name from Warren Buffett to Warren Lynch (Lynch apparently being another great investor in history, so I just combined the two names¡ªthink of "Warren Lynch" as an OC). The character will essentially be a prodigy in investments and a person with great work ethic, so from now on, I must say there won''t be a subplot involving issues with investments. Money is just something that will facilitate things in the development of the story, completely separate from the general idea of the plot.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 35

    It was almost poetic the way Mom yelled and scolded me for several uninterrupted minutes. It seemed that, besides my siblings who were obviously listening, if the silence in their rooms indicated anything, the entire street had decided to keep quiet, allowing the pregnant woman''s shouts to be heard everywhere.

    "I can''t believe it, losing your hard-earned money on a stupid bet," after several minutes of yelling, the pregnant woman with a red and sweaty face took a seat wearily.

    "Oh, he didn''t lose her money, darling," opportunistically embarrassed, probably for not mentioning that little detail earlier, Bob said.

    "What?" the furious woman asked again, standing up, "and you waited until now to say it?" she asked again, pushing Bob on his shoulder, the height difference making the action extremely comical.

    With the new revelation, fortunately for me, I wasn''t the only one under the wrath of the pregnant woman. Unfortunately for Bob, he was placed next to me, receiving the same amount of hormonal woman''s shouts.

    The shouts continued for several minutes until the seemingly breathless woman had to stop to rest. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bob quickly sat next to his wife, soothingly caressing her arms, trying to be forgiven.

    "If he didn''t lose the money, what did you do with the winnings?" after a few seconds to catch her breath, the woman asked.

    Again seizing the opportunity, Bob began to explain everything we had discussed and done at the bank with Mr. Lynch. Occasionally, I had to add details that Bob overlooked.

    "Oh, PJ," with teary eyes, the woman stood up affectionately, placing her hands on the sides of my face, "I''m so glad you''re thinking about your future," she tenderly affirmed, "but don''t think for a moment that I accept what you did," she said seriously, losing her smile, "my eldest son, making bets," getting angry again, she began to shake my head, "I didn''t raise you that way," and the scolding continued.

    Several shouts from the hormonal woman later, Bob managed to shift her focus. That day, for the first time in my two lives, I discovered what it was like to be truly punished.

    The next day, Bob sent my car with Mr. Sparks, who had to remind me he was the father of the chicken boy, as the man had a mechanic workshop where they would inspect and fix everything the car needed, and, of course, I would have to pay.

    As the days passed, my already routine life became even more routine. Discovering that I really did nothing but go to school, the hospital, and home, Bob and Amy found other ways to punish me.

    They couldn''t do much to reprimand me at school, so ironically, it was the only place where I was free from problems. In the hospital, my hours with House and his team, along with the time I spent writing for Dr. Donnall''s research, were cut short as Mom dragged me into volunteering, cleaning, organizing, cutting nails¡ªbasically, the worst part of working as a nurse in a hospital, at least the part the nurses didn''t want to do and avoided whenever they could.

    "Do you know what the best part of the hospital TV is?" House asked while eating from a bag of chips, sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the obstetrics staff room, "that it''s basically free cable TV." Seeing that I was ignoring him while doing my volunteer work, House responded.

    Apart from being punished to do volunteer work at the hospital, I was punished every day with House being House. From the first day after Mom explained why he couldn''t be in charge of me for too long, House enjoyed pointing out and mocking what I had to do.

    At home, the punishment was different. After doing my homework and having some time to study, Bob and Mom made sure I didn''t have any free time¡ªcleaning cars, dishes, taking care of the garden¡ªbasically anything that could be done by me.

    Even, as Bob had promised, my weekends were completely occupied. After Mom spread the rumor that her eldest son, a responsible almost 16-year-old with perfect grades and enough medical knowledge to work in a hospital, was completely free on weekends to be a babysitter or tutor, it seemed like the first choice of parents in the entire neighborhood for a babysitter.

    At least I had a reward and earned a few dozen dollars every weekend.

    Weeks passed, and with them, my days in my routine life. Every day, go to school, hospital, home, and repeat until the third week of my punishment arrived¡ªThursday, game day.

    Again, we were the home team. Unlike the first game, there were many more people in the stands, both from our team and the opponent. Apparently, winning the first game of the season had caught the attention of the majority of the city.

    Unfortunately, during the game, there were many defensive and offensive errors, and in the end, our second game of the season resulted in a defeat.

    "I don''t want to see you down," Coach Cooper ordered in the locker room after the game, "you played well, there were many mistakes, but nothing that can''t be resolved in the next practices. No excuses. Go back home and think about the game just for today, but starting tomorrow, forget about this feeling of defeat to focus on the next game," the man continued before walking to his office.

    "You heard the coach," deciding that the bad game wouldn''t stop me, I ordered, and surprisingly, my teammates listened.

    The bitterness of losing the second game of the season lasted the next day, Friday, and by Monday, the school had already forgotten it, or at least it was no longer so present.

    With that, the days passed, and without realizing it, the month had ended.

    "Don''t forget that we''ll go for the driving test tomorrow," during Friday''s dinner of my fourth punished week, Bob reminded me.

    "Yes, I remember," I assured the man, "by the way, how much longer will I be punished?" I asked, focused on my plate, trying not to show my interest.

    After silently reprimanding Gabe, who was teasing about the question, "there''s still one more week of punishment, PJ," Mom responded seriously without leaving room for negotiation, again reprimanding Gabe for mocking.

    "Talk to Herschel; your car will be ready for your birthday next week," changing the subject suddenly, Bob said.

    "Oh, that''s great," surprised, I replied. Like many things from my past life, I didn''t remember when my birthday was, so I had completely adopted my birthday in this life.

    The next day, Bob took me to the Department of Motor Vehicles. After showing the relevant documents and taking the written exam, a small bald man with large glasses came to where our car was parked.

    I had already passed the test in my past life, so it wasn''t a difficult thing to achieve. Following the examiner''s instructions, I drove on the road for a few minutes until we returned to the starting point.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Perfect, finally, park between those two cones, please," with his nasal voice, the examiner ordered, pointing with his pen at two cones in the middle of the street.

    After performing the maneuver without any problems, Bob, who was sitting in the back of the car, and I waited for the man to finish writing on the papers in his hand.

    "So, how did he

    do?" impatiently, Bob asked.

    "Oh, very well, definitely passed," the examiner, adjusting his thick glasses, replied.

    After the man handed us the documents with the approval stamp, we went back into the office to process the remaining paperwork. In one more week, I would have driving independence, finally.

    The last week of my punishment was by far the toughest of all. Apparently, the day I took my driving test, a big party happened, and I had missed it. My friends, being the teenagers they were, only talked during their free time about that party. For some reason, there was a sudden increase in elderly people needing volunteer services at the hospital, a job I understood because the nurses didn''t entirely want to do it. Fortunately, during the week, I finished sending everything I remembered about the research to Dr. Donnall.

    At home, fortunately, there was less that needed my free labor.

    Finally, my birthday had arrived. On the Friday of my last punished week, when I arrived home, parked neatly cleaned, with new tires and a new paint job, my car was waiting on the curb.

    "You have to be responsible, respect the speed limit, signs, and other people," in front of Bob and Mom, I anxiously waited with disguised indifference for them to hand over the key to my car. Nodding seriously a few seconds later, I received the keys from Bob. "Go take it for a spin," the man said with a smile.

    Without waiting for him to say it a second time, I quickly got into the car. If changes had been made on the outside to be noticeable, the interior was unrecognizable. Mr. Sparks had done an incredible job; the seats had new material, the steering wheel had been changed, the dashboard and radio seemed new too. Overall, Debbie looked like new.

    Upon starting the engine, I understood, at least a little, the excitement some people had with their cars. This car belonged to me, and I was about to drive it. Lowering the window, I accelerated quickly, within the speed limit, leaving the street of my house.

    There was a liberating feeling while driving the car, feeling the breeze coming through the window. It was such a comforting sensation that I lost track of time; without realizing it, more than an hour had passed, and I returned home after a quick detour.

    An hour later, I arrived once again in front of our house, and surprisingly, Teddy and Gabe were sitting on the front porch steps, apparently waiting.

    After another, much shorter, drive with my siblings in the car, we returned home.

    Bob was surprisingly interested in how the car handled, and at least during dinner that day, the conversation was entirely centered around Debbie.

    The next day, apparently convinced that I had learned my lesson, Bob and Amy decided that my punishment was over. I finally had my weekends back, at least until the evening, as I had another babysitting job. The money could come in handy for gas.

    The routine of these last five weeks had ruined my free time so much that, with nothing else to do, I endured only a few hours after breakfast. With my need to do something and the opportunity to use my car, I accepted any request from the other people in the house. Fortunately for Gabe, he was the first one I approached.

    "Can you take me to the comic book store?" my brother asked excitedly. "Mom only takes me for a few minutes when I accompany her to do the shopping, but now you can take me!" still excited, he affirmed.

    "Why not," with nothing else to do, I replied to my brother.

    After informing our parents that I would be leaving with Gabe, we hopped into Debbie. To increase Gabe''s excitement, I allowed him to sit in the front.

    While driving, Gabe found it amusing to stick his head out of the open car window. "Don''t do that," I quickly pulled him back to his seat, "I''d prefer not to lose your head while I''m driving. It wouldn''t be a good big brother move on my part. Put on your seatbelt," I ordered seriously.

    After parking in front of the comic book store, I followed my little excited brother inside.

    Inside the comic book store, surprisingly, I ran into Tam, the Vietnamese boy who was a common friend with Sheldon.

    "Oh, PJ Duncan, my friend, what are you doing here?" Tam asked from the floor, where he was sitting and reading.

    "Hi, Tam, remember you can call me just PJ," I reminded the boy, "I brought my brother," pointing to Gabe, who was browsing through the comic book shelves, I explained.

    "I see," Tam nodded seriously, "take a seat, please," pointing to the space next to him on the floor, the Vietnamese boy offered.

    "For now, I''m good, thanks," I replied, declining his offer.

    "PJ, how long can we stay here?" suddenly, Gabe asked next to me.

    "Don''t worry; we can stay until later. It seems you can read whatever you want here," pointing at Tam, I replied, "by the way, this is Tam, a friend of mine from high school. Tam, this is Gabe, my brother," I introduced the two boys.

    "Gabe Duncan, it''s a pleasure to meet you," with a strange smile, Tam said.

    "Yeah," puzzled, Gabe responded, secretly looking at me with doubt on his face.

    Ignoring my brother, I ruffled his hair, "bring me one of those comics about the peculiar doctor," I teased the boy.

    "It''s Doctor Strange," with mock annoyance, Gabe walked to one of the comic book shelves, searching for a few seconds until he took one of the comic books.

    "There," handing me the comic, Gabe took a seat a bit away from Tam, apparently still uncomfortable with the strange introduction of the Vietnamese boy.

    "Do you want one?" taking a bunch of candies from his side, Tam offered again.

    "Yeah, sure," seemingly forgetting his discomfort with the boy, Gabe responded, moving closer to the Vietnamese boy.

    "No, thanks," I replied to the boy.

    Reading standing up, I spent a few more minutes with the interesting comic. From the store''s entrance, I heard, "excuse me, do you have X-Men number one thirty-seven? I''d like to know what happens next, please," in a high-pitched tone that I recognized as Sheldon''s.

    "Back in the corner," the store clerk replied.

    A moment later, my theory was confirmed as Sheldon appeared, dressed as elegantly as a nine-year-old could be.

    "Hey, Sheldon," I greeted the boy.

    "What are you doing here?" surprisingly, Gabe and Tam asked at the same time.

    "Oh, hi, PJ, Tam," calmly, the boy greeted back, "Gabe," he added a moment later.

    "I thought you said comics were for children," Tam said, again supported by Gabe.

    "I''m a complicated young man," with indifference, Sheldon replied while browsing one of the shelves.

    A moment later, it seemed like he found the comic he was looking for and took a seat next to Tam, on the other side of Gabe, calmly reading its contents.

    We continued reading in silence for a few more minutes before Sheldon broke the atmosphere. "I''m enjoying this, but I''m having trouble with the onomatopoeia."

    "The what?" intrigued, Tam asked.

    "Words that imitate sounds," Sheldon explained and began giving some examples. "Writers shouldn''t make up words," he asserted.

    "Somebody made up ''onomatopoeia,''" wisely, Tam replied to the boy.

    Narrowing his eyes, Sheldon nodded slightly, "you challenge me; I like that," he said, smiling at the other boy.

    "You really are a robot," silently, Gabe affirmed, making Tam laugh slightly.

    Trying to hide his laughter, Tam quickly chewed on his candy, "what?" he asked the Vietnamese boy, apparently, Sheldon was staring at him intently.

    "Nothing," Sheldon quickly replied.

    "Do you want one?" again kindly, Tam offered.

    "No," Sheldon declined quickly; it seemed he still didn''t want to eat solid foods, despite my recommendation more than five weeks ago. The boy continued drinking his meals instead of chewing them.

    "Well, if you change your mind, help yourself," kindly, Tam said, returning to his reading.

    Sheldon seemed to be in a predicament about whether to take one or not, and apparently, I was the only one watching him. I was concerned that the little boy would stop eating solid foods sincerely.

    Glancing at his comic book, it seemed like the boy made a decision, quickly grabbing one of the candies and tearing off a piece with his teeth, chewing the candy deliberately.

    I was glad for him.

    When I finished the second comic book, not much later, they aren''t really long, I discovered something strange. "By the way, Sheldon, where''s your mom?" I asked the boy. It seemed odd that the woman wasn''t hovering over her son, being as protective as she was.

    "She must be with the therapist along with my dad; at his office, I read X-Men number one thirty-six, so I decided to come here to read the next one," the boy explained calmly.

    "So, they know you''re here?" I asked, making the boy lift his face immediately.

    ---

    Author Thougts:

    As always, I''m not American, and Not a Doctor.

    This marks the first of several time skips that will occur throughout the story. What did you think? It covered a total of 5 weeks, and the MC''s birthday is on October 10th, 10/10.

    I''m not familiar with the process of obtaining a driver''s license in the United States. In Mexico, you only need to be of legal age (for the license, not just a permit), and there is no exam or anything.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 36

    Given that Sheldon obviously hadn''t informed his parents, especially his very religious and prone-to-worry mother, after getting Sheldon''s house number, I called the Cooper household from the comic book store phone.

    "Hello?" After the phone rang a few times, Missy answered, intrigued but cheerfully.

    "Hey Missy," I greeted the girl.

    "Oh, PJ!" Missy cheerfully exclaimed upon recognizing my voice. "You know, my friend Linda and I often talk on the phone like this, you and I should do it more often. The other day, I heard from my friend Linda that-" Without pausing to breathe, the cheerful girl started chattering away.

    "Are your parents or Meemaw there? I need to talk to them about Sheldon," I quickly interrupted her lively chat.

    "Oh, did you know Sheldon is missing? Apparently, he escaped from the shrink. Don''t tell anyone I know he went to the shrink; we''re supposed to say he went to the barber, and we need to tell him he has a great haircut. But now, Mom is freaking out in the living room; we''re all waiting for the police. This is going to be a great story for school!" Missy joyfully and even faster than a little girl''s lungs should allow, seemingly forgetting my question.

    "Missy, who are you talking to, young lady?" Mrs. Cooper suddenly asked, obviously concerned.

    "It''s PJ," Missy nonchalantly replied to her mother.

    "Give me that." From the other side of the phone, I could hear the device changing hands, followed by what seemed to be murmurs of an annoyed little girl.

    "Hello PJ," trying to calm her obviously nervous voice, "now is not a very good time. Sheldon is missing, and I''d like to keep the line open for anything. But I''ll tell Georgie that you called."

    "No, I didn''t call to talk to Georgie, Mrs. Cooper. In fact, I''m with Sheldon right now. He''s fine; you don''t need to worry," I quickly clarified the misunderstanding.

    "Oh!" In an immediate mix of joy and relief, the woman exclaimed, "You found him! PJ found Sheldon!" she shouted again to the people in her house.

    "Well, actually, Sheldon found us. Gabe and I were at the comic book store, and he suddenly showed up."

    "That boy is in so much trouble!" The woman immediately changed her mood, angrily declaring, "I can''t believe he did that." She continued, still upset, "we even called the police. Oh my god, the police!" Apparently suddenly remembering, she exclaimed, "I have to call and let them know. PJ, are you sure you can bring him? We can come get him. I wouldn''t want to inconvenience you." She quickly said, probably trying to end the conversation to call the police again.

    "Yes, don''t worry, Mrs. Cooper. I was already prepared to go back home anyway. Coming a bit earlier is no problem at all," I quickly reassured her.

    "Oh PJ, thank you so much." Gratefully, the woman said goodbye before hanging up the call.

    "So, how''s everything?" Unbeknownst to him, Sheldon was waiting behind me, apparently calmly, possibly not understanding the trouble he had gotten into.

    "Well, you''re in trouble, buddy." I preferred not to lie, obviously making the boy worry. "But come on, you won''t know anything until you get home, and I promised your mother I''d bring you back safe and sound." Motioning to my brother to stand up, I moved the now scared boy aside.

    "Aw, so soon. I barely read these comics." Sadly, the boy pointed to a stack of comics next to him, way more than I would have thought.

    "Tell you what, pick three comics, and if you do it quickly, I''ll buy them for you." Playfully pushing his head slightly, I told the excited little boy who quickly stood up. "Really?" he asked incredulously. "Tick tock," without answering his theatrical question, I theatrically raised my hand where my watch was, pretending to count the time.

    My trick obviously worked, making the boy quickly move to one of the shelves to pick three comics.

    "So Tam, do you need a ride home?" Remembering the other present kid, I asked.

    "Ride?" Surprised, the Vietnamese boy asked.

    "Yeah, in my car." I explained, pointing outside the comic book store.

    "You got a car?" Amazed, the boy asked again as he stood up, nodding amusedly after I answered with a simple nod, "you''ll be the first freshman to have a car. PJ Duncan, my friend, your coolness grows every day, and so will your popularity." Much more formal than any teenager should be, Tam affirmed.

    Before Tam could continue with his, at least what seemed like, praises, Gabe suddenly appeared, "I got them!" Excitedly, Gabe exclaimed with three comics in his hands.

    "Okay, let''s go pay for these." Taking the comics from my brother''s hands, I approached the store manager. "I''m gonna pay for these three," I indicated to the manager as I took out my wallet.

    After paying a surprisingly cheerful store manager, I led a still worried Sheldon outside the store, followed by Gabe and Tam, who apparently took the opportunity to also leave on their way home.

    While guiding Sheldon, lightly pushing him by the shoulders, we reached a few steps in front of my car before Sheldon abruptly stopped, "your car looks dangerous." Reluctant to continue walking, "I''m definitely not getting in." The boy seriously affirmed.

    "That''s the coolest car I''ve ever seen in my life." Guiding a bicycle, Tam surprised exclaimed.

    "Thanks, Bud." I thanked the Vietnamese boy, still trying to get Sheldon to move forward.

    "That''s a death trap." Reluctant, Sheldon said still avoiding moving forward.

    "Sheldon, you know how I drive, remember?" I asked, trying to change the boy''s mind. "I promise I''ll stay below the speed limit at all times. Besides, the car has new seat belts, and you''ll be in the back seat where statistically-" I was saying again, trying to convince the boy.

    "It''s the safest part of the car," the boy concluded on his own, seemingly debating internally whether to get in the car or not.

    "Come on, I''m getting tired here," annoyed, Gabe exclaimed from the side of the car.

    "Come on, I promise nothing will happen to you," I reassured the less reluctant boy. A few seconds after silent contemplation, Sheldon nodded.

    After helping Sheldon by adjusting the passenger seat so he could get into the back, I let Gabe sit in the front passenger seat. "Well, see you at school, Tam," I bid farewell to the Vietnamese boy, who remained standing next to his bike. "Yeah, see you at school," Tam slowly said as he strangely looked between his bike and ''Debbie.''

    "Okay, let''s go. Gabe, your seatbelt," I ordered my brother as I started the car and pulled onto the main street.

    "PJ, you''re going too fast!" Sheldon, from the back seat of the car, said with concern, making both Gabe and me laugh slightly at the same time.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Yes, Sheldon, sorry," I calmly responded to the boy as I drove.

    When we arrived on our street, after parking and letting the kids, especially Sheldon in the back seat, out, we could see Mrs. Cooper waiting on her front porch with crossed arms, annoyed, watching her younger son.

    "Thanks for bringing him, PJ," after greeting the woman, Mrs. Cooper shouted gratefully from her porch.

    "There''s nothing to thank, Mrs. Cooper," I replied to the woman.

    "Well, good luck, Sheldon." Giving a final push to the reluctant boy, I said.

    "See you later, Gabe. I''m off to work," saying goodbye to my brother as well, I began walking towards the family''s house where I would work tonight.

    The walk was only a few minutes, so I wouldn''t need ''Debbie'' to get there. I had visited the house once before, so fortunately, it was quite easy for me to find.

    The house was as I remembered from a few weeks ago. The front yard, unlike the other houses around it, was poorly maintained, and next to the large tree at the entrance of the property, there was a large pile of scattered leaves.

    After knocking on the front door and waiting for a few seconds, it opened, revealing Mr. Wilkerson, again half-dressed, this time without pants but with a shirt on. "Hello, Mr. Wilkerson," I greeted the man, doing my best to maintain eye contact.

    The man didn''t seem to recognize me until, after a few seconds of seeing me with intrigue, he finally said, "Oh, PJ, I thought you''d come in five minutes later," he shouted worriedly, checking his watch. "It''s late," without saying anything else, the man entered his house again, walking quickly.

    Taking the man''s actions as an invitation to enter, I did so, closing the door behind me. Turning back inside the house, I surprisingly found all four kids of the family staring at me with furrowed brows, all except the youngest, Dewey, if I remembered correctly, who simply had a calm look on his face with a small smile.

    "So, let me see, if I remember correctly, Francis, Reese, Malcolm, and the little Dewey, how are you all?" I greeted each of the kids from the oldest to the youngest without receiving any response.

    "We''re late," breaking the awkward silence we had fallen into, Mrs. Wilkerson said, "now listen to me carefully. This is the first night that your father and I are going out in a long time. I don''t want anything stupid, no fires, explosives, broken glass, silly ideas. You''ll listen to PJ, and under no circumstances do I want a call tonight. You''ll let your father and me have a quiet night." She quickly continued to warn her children without pausing to breathe.

    "Whatever your mother said, I''m with her. It''s better if you listen," returning to the living room, Mr. Wilkerson said seriously as he tried to tie his tie.

    "Yes, because we really need a babysitter," ironically, Francis said, annoyed. "I''m twelve; I can''t-" he was saying, but his mother interrupted, "No, you can''t."

    "Here you go, PJ, dinner is in the refrigerator. Bedtime is at nine, and only call if the house is on fire or if someone is in mortal danger. If you call the fire department, there''s a chance they''ll hang up, so you''ll have to call again," with what I sincerely hoped was a bad joke, the woman said, handing me a paper with a phone number written on it.

    Giving one last look at her children, Mrs. Wilkerson slowly and with a furrowed brow warned, "Don''t do anything."

    Without saying much more, the Wilkerson couple hurriedly left the house, leaving me again with the silent children.

    "So, do you guys want to do something, have any pending tasks, any board games, anything?" Usually, one of those options worked to entertain the kids quickly, but seeing the apathetic reactions of three out of the four children in front of me, I wasn''t entirely sure it would work this time.

    The three older kids, still without saying anything, exchanged glances before, in a surprising coordination, denying, "We''d love to, but we already had planned what to do, right?" Francis, the oldest, suspiciously asked his brothers.

    "Yes, that''s true." Reese and Malcolm, again showing an incredible coordination, responded simultaneously.

    "Okay, if you need anything, you can call me," I told the three older kids, "while you and I, buddy, can watch TV for a while." Taking Dewey like a little sack under my arm, I carried him to the nearby couch, taking the remote control to turn on the TV. With young kids like Dewey, it was much easier to keep them entertained; it only required finding a channel with cartoons and keeping it in view.

    While watching over Dewey, sitting next to him watching cartoons on the TV, I noticed how the other kids constantly went back and forth from what I could guess was their room to the kitchen, carrying what I could only describe as materials.

    "Are you guys okay?" I asked the next kid in the kitchen, Malcolm.

    "Oh, yeah, we''re just," he paused to think of the next word, "playing." After a few seconds, he continued before running off again with other things in his arms.

    They were definitely planning something. If the warnings their mother had given were real and not just a bad joke to scare me.

    "I''m going to check on your brothers, be right back," patting the boy''s head, I headed towards where the other kids were running, not receiving any response from the little boy.

    On my way to where the kids were heading, I suddenly heard a loud but short cry of pain from one of the rooms a few steps away from where I was standing. The scream quickly alerted me, making me quicken my pace. "What happened, are you all okay?" I immediately asked upon entering the room where the kids were.

    Apparently, my rapid and sudden appearance had surprised the three kids standing in the middle of two large beds in their room. Quickly, the kids, like when we first met

    today, lined up next to each other, strangely suspicious.

    "Yes, we''re fine," Francis quickly responded with a wide smile.

    "I heard a scream; are you sure everyone is okay?" I asked again. Of the three kids, Reese, the most nervous one, knew they were hiding something because it was impossible for the boy to maintain eye contact. "Yes, I''m sure," trying to distract my attention from his brother, Francis spoke again.

    The oldest of the siblings definitely had experience in lying, undoubtedly in his voice, maintaining eye contact, and not forgetting to give a calm smile. Working with kids in the last few weeks taught me that usually, kids didn''t have great lying abilities; there was almost always something that gave them away.

    Reese was definitely nervous, something that even Francis could notice. With a small and quick elbow jab, he got his brother to focus his gaze forward.

    When I shifted my complete attention to the third kid, Malcolm, I discovered who possibly was the one who had screamed. With his hands behind his back while he seemed to hide something, his face was somewhat pale, and the boy was sweating enough for me to notice from where I was standing.

    "Show me your hands, Malcolm, please," I asked the boy, causing all three children to open their eyes in surprise and concern.

    With his mouth agape, seemingly unsure how to lie, Malcolm looked at his brothers for help. "No, show me your hands, come on," approaching the boy, I prevented him from seeking further assistance, lifting my hand, I urged him to give me his hands.

    A moment later, after examining my palms, Malcolm lowered his head, surrendering his hands. Checking his palms, I found nothing until I turned his hand and discovered, "a staple?" I asked the boy, who avoided my gaze, much like his two older brothers. "Why do you have a staple stuck in your hand?" I asked again while inspecting the damage to the boy''s hand.

    "It was an accident," Francis quickly exclaimed nervously, supported by Reese with equally nervous nods.

    "An accident, huh? Where''s the stapler?" I calmly asked while thoroughly examining the wound.

    "So where is it?" I asked again when I received no response.

    It seemed that none of the three children would say anything, but Reese involuntarily occasionally sent glances toward one of the pillows on one of the beds. "So under this pillow," I said, following his gaze, lifting the pillow, revealing a mousetrap and the stapler.

    Seeing the obvious attempt at a booby trap, with only the gaze I silently interrogated the children again, making them avoid my gaze, especially Malcolm, who seemed embarrassed. So, that''s how it''s going to be, huh?

    Taking the trap along with the stapler, I smiled challengingly at the three children in front of me. "It''s your choice. We can have a quiet fun day or you can try to make me leave whit your bobby traps," I said calmly, deactivating the mousetrap. "But that won''t work your parents are paying me to be here until the night, and that''s what I''m going to do," I continued, pulling the staples from the stapler. "Again, your decision, kids," I finished while fast pulling the staple from Malcolm''s hand, causing him to exclaim in surprise. "There won''t be a mark," I assured him.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American, and Not a Doctor.

    I split this chapter into two parts, and the next part will be published in the middle of the upcoming week.

    I''ve received several comments regarding the severity of the punishment the MC receives. In my opinion, putting myself in the shoes of Bob and Amy in 1990, $3000 was a significant amount of money. Also, I understand that underage gambling is illegal in the United States. From my perspective, it''s not an overly exaggerated punishment (even though he made money from it, no matter). My experience as a person being disciplined by a Latino mother tells me that a month and a week is a short time for doing something illegal and stupid.

    I''ve also received recommendations to occasionally continue the story from the perspective of another character. Yes, it''s something I want to try at some point. I''ve been thinking about how to do it without disrupting the flow of the story because I''m not sure if the current narrative style is the best for a change in perspective. What do you think?

    Having said that,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 37

    After my attempt at a warning, I was expecting even a slight hint of remorse on the faces of any of the children; instead, the three quickly exchanged glances before facing me seriously side by side. "You''re going to be down," Francis said seriously, advancing from their small formation, puffing out his chest. He even seemed to stand on tiptoe slightly, trying to appear intimidating, followed by his two even younger brothers who simultaneously nodded seriously.

    Unable to help it, I chuckled at the children''s clumsy attempt at intimidation. "Well, while you''re at it, I''ll be with Dewey," I said, still amused, as I walked out of the room. "Oh, and if you want to watch TV or play a game before dinner and your parents arrive, you know where to find me," I sarcastically teased as I left their room.

    They were just kids, what could they do?

    Returning to the living room, Dewey had somehow managed to change the TV channel to a completely inappropriate movie for a child his age. "Wow, buddy, that''s not cartoons," I quickly remarked as I took the remote to search for cartoons again on TV and remove the semi-naked woman Dewey was watching.

    "I''ll stick with this," I said, putting away the remote after finding cartoons, shaking my head slightly at the calm child. "Do you want a snack?" I asked the child, who responded by nodding while maintaining deep eye contact.

    "Okay," puzzled by the child''s behavior, I said as I walked to the kitchen.

    Midway to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly appeared in the hallway, looking surprised to find me in his path. "Oh, PJ," the child quickly said, moving swiftly past the dining table toward the living room. "I wanted to watch TV too," the child continued with a strangely forced smile.

    Again puzzled by another child''s behavior in this house, I nodded, pointing to the chair where his younger brother was sitting. "Do you want a snack too?" I asked the child, pointing with my thumb to the kitchen behind me.

    "Yeah," the child said strangely nervously as he sat next to his brother. "Oh, PJ!" before I could turn to continue walking to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly exclaimed, catching my attention.

    "Yes? What''s up?" surprised by the sudden shout.

    "Oh, nothing," after a few seconds of calming his suddenly agitated breathing, the child quickly responded. He seemed to be watchful behind me, as if searching for something. Obviously, his behavior was suspicious, making me quickly turn sharply to see what was grabbing his attention. Again, I could sense that something was going on.

    The kids were planning something.

    Checking the kitchen with confusion as I hadn''t heard or seen anything coming from there, I approached slowly, prepared for anything the kids might have prepared.

    Not seeing anything, I approached much more calmly before being drawn to the window pointing to the Wilkersons'' garden. Being mid-October, the sun set much earlier, making the garden in front of us dark, or at least it should have been. "Is that fire?" surprised, I quickly asked, heading out the glass door beside a round table.

    Inside one of those metal trash cans with a horrible chemical smell emanating from it, a ''controlled'' fire was lighting up the garden. Quickly looking for something to extinguish the fire, I found the metal lid a few steps away, which I immediately used to close the container, hoping it would be enough to smother the flames. A few seconds later, with the garden hose and careful not to burn my hands, I removed the lid to spray the remnants of whatever the kids used to start the fire.

    Now I saw that the woman''s warning was not in vain. What kind of kids start a fire? And why did they do it?

    Moving away from the smelly mess the kids caused, I returned the hose to its place before trying to re-enter the house, or at least attempting to.

    The glass door through which I had gone to the garden was closed. Now I understand.

    Knocking on the door, trying to get Dewey''s attention, who was facing away from me watching TV, I was surprised when suddenly the three older Wilkerson kids appeared in front of me, sharing terrified smiles.

    "Very funny, kids, come on, let me in," a bit annoyed by their bold and proud smiles, I said.

    "What?" obviously pretending not to hear me, Reese put his hands behind his ears, asking from the other side of the glass door.

    Taking a deep breath to think about what to do, I pretended for a few seconds in front of the kids before quickly running to the other door a few steps away from me. I hoped they had forgotten to close at least one of the entrances, being followed by the kids from inside the house.

    The next door, like the previous one, was closed, as was the next one and the windows after them. Finally, I returned to the door I had exited through. "Come on, let me in, you''ve had enough fun," I said, more annoyed.

    "I don''t think so," with a proud smile, Francis said, approaching the door. "This is our decision, good night, PJ," he continued mocking before quickly closing the curtain.

    ---

    After Francis closed the curtain, we briefly celebrated. "Yes, that''ll teach him," Reese proudly said before stopping. "Now what do we do?" he asked, looking to Francis for an answer that my older brother seemed unable to give.

    "I don''t know, we could watch TV," uncertainly contributed, that''s what PJ had offered us. Well, if anyone was to blame, it was Mom; we didn''t need a babysitter.

    "That''s it, Malcolm," excitedly said Francis before quickly running to our room and back, carrying what seemed to be a movie box. "Let''s watch this; Richie got it from his cousin," Francis continued showing the box first to Reese. "It, great, I heard other kids talking about it at school," Reese said excitedly as we walked together to the living room.

    "Move," with a shove, Reese removed Dewey from the center of the couch in front of the TV before passing the movie to Francis, who inserted it into the player.

    "Now, Dewey, give us the remote," stretching his hand, Francis ordered our younger brother, who just stared blankly at Francis with his usual lack of reaction. "Find it," a moment later, probably getting tired of Dewey''s lack of response, Francis ordered Reese, who briskly started searching under my younger brother and around the sofa.

    "It''s not here," frustrated Reese said, stopping his search after rummaging through all the sofa cushions.

    "He probably has it, PJ," annoyed Francis said, clenching his fists.

    "We can play the movie without the remote," I quickly said as I stood up. I had seen Dad do it the day he brought the player a few years ago, before Dewey was born.

    "Good," Francis quickly changed his attitude, allowing me to pass towards the TV.

    It only took a few button presses to make the movie visible. I quickly put on the movie and ran to the sofa, getting comfortable. It had already started, but not much had happened yet. For now, there was only a child in a yellow raincoat running under the rain, seemingly chasing a small paper boat.

    "Ha, how silly," amused Reese said when the child''s paper boat fell into a sewer.

    Suddenly, the music that had been playing in the scene stopped, and the disappointed child in the movie was looking inside the sewer, with only the sound of rain audible.

    The sewer was completely dark, and for some reason, that was genuinely creepy. It seemed like nothing was going to happen in the movie until suddenly, "Hello, Georgie," a voice said, making Reese jump in fright. "Ha, you got scared," I teased him, hiding that I was also a bit scared.

    "It''s not tru¡ª" Reese was defending himself. "Clown," but he interrupted himself when a clown appeared in the sewer in the movie.

    The child in the raincoat and the clown started a conversation about talking to strangers, and the sinister attitude of the clown along with the eerie music made everything chilling. The clown, for some reason, had balloons in the sewer, and the foolish child in the raincoat didn''t find it strange that the strange clown knew his name.

    Fortunately, the child ignored the balloon the sinister man was offering. Unfortunately, the clown had the little paper boat the child was following.

    "The kid is going to die," fear in his voice, Reese asserted.

    I didn''t bother pointing out the obvious fear in my brother''s voice because I was sure my voice sounded the same or worse than his.

    As the child reached his hand to take the paper boat, unconsciously, Francis, Reese, and I approached with fear, listening to the clown speak more aggressively until suddenly the child''s hand was taken. The four of us, including Dewey, started screaming. The face of the clown with horrible sharp teeth and creepy yellow eyes was the last thing we saw before the TV turned off, making us all scream again.

    ---

    "What the heck do you think you''re doing?" Being part of the first line of emergency, you learn some tricks to open doors. Unfortunately, with the lack of lighting, the task becomes quite complicated, especially if the only tool you have is a hospital ID card.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Oh, it''s you, PJ, thank God," frightened Malcolm was the first to react after they screamed again.

    "Obviously, it''s me. Who else would it be?" I asked the kid, annoyed, as I approached Dewey, who was crying. What were the kids thinking, putting something scary in front of the little boy?

    "A killer clown," still scared, Reese affirmed, making Dewey, now on my shoulder, cry even more.

    Signaling Reese to be quiet with gestures while lifting Dewey, I assured the crying child on my shoulder, "It''s okay, buddy, calm down, nothing''s wrong."

    "I can''t believe you made your brother go through this," annoyed with the kids, I said, still trying to calm the little boy in my arms. "You could have traumatized Dewey," I said disappointed.

    "We got scared too," offended, Francis tried to defend himself, attempting to get up from the couch, which I prevented by placing my hand on his head, making him lose his balance again and fall back into his seat.

    "But you''re older," scolded, "especially you, Francis. It was your decision, right?" I said to the older kid, making him lose his anger for a few seconds. The older boy seemed a bit remorseful for his actions.

    "You two as well, you''re family; at least take care of each other," disappointed, I said to the other two kids, achieving a more obvious repentance on their faces. "Think about what you did," really not knowing what else to say to reprimand the kids as I walked with Dewey, still scared, in my arms.

    It only took a few minutes before Dewey, obviously exhausted from crying so much, fell deeply asleep in my arms. In the room where I had encountered his brothers several minutes ago, I chose the bed with more stuffed animals to lay the little boy down and cover him with his blankets.

    The other three kids were surprisingly still sitting in their places on the sofa. For possible arsonists, I didn''t believe my ''speech'' was deep enough to make them reflect. They wanted something.

    "Do you have something to say?" I asked the kids, who quickly lowered their heads at the same time.

    After elbowing each other, Malcolm stood up. "We''re sorry, PJ," he quickly said. "Yeah, we''re sorry. Can we continue watching the movie now?" Reese quickly seemed unable to control his words before receiving a punch in the side.

    "No," annoyed, mainly because they locked me out of the house, I said, "by the way, I''ll confiscate this and give it to your parents," as I took the movie out of the player.

    "You can''t do that," annoyed, Francis stood up from his seat.

    "Well, I just did," sarcastically showing them the tape. "You can watch cartoons while I make dinner," I continued, ignoring the protests the kids immediately unleashed.

    Leaving the movie within my reach, I took enough from the family''s refrigerator to make sandwiches for the kids for dinner. "Is there anything you don''t want on your sandwiches?" I asked the still annoyed kids in the living room.

    "Pickles," Malcolm was the only one to respond.

    "Go wash your hands," after finishing preparing sandwiches for everyone, I ordered the kids still on the couch who had their heads closer together than I would have liked, seeming to talk, plan.

    "Yes," again, in a suspicious synchrony, the three said at the same time before getting up from the sofa and quickly going to the bathroom.

    Their ''little'' distraction starting a fire in their backyard had me completely alert to the kids'' behavior. Their mother''s attitude was entirely justified.

    While putting away all the things I had used for the sandwiches, Reese and Malcolm returned. "Where''s Francis?" I asked, looking seriously at the kids before quickly checking the backyard window. I had filled the trash cans with a little water to prevent another fire, but I didn''t know these kids'' limits.

    Before I could ask where their brother was, a scream followed by crying was heard from the kids'' room. Taking the movie tape with me, I quickly trotted to see what was happening.

    "Dewey, are you okay?" I asked the little boy who was obviously awake, crying and hugging one of the stuffed animals on his bed. "It was the clown, he was here," the scared child exclaimed.

    "Oh buddy, it''s just a movie, it''s not real," I reassured the child, taking him in my arms again to leave the room. I didn''t want to leave the older kids alone for too long.

    Somehow, Francis had made it to the dining table without me noticing. He, along with his two brothers, sat in front of their sandwiches, apparently untouched, waiting with strange smiles.

    "Oh, Dewey had a nightmare," with what seemed like fake regret, Francis said, "sorry, Dewey," he continued, apologizing. "Yeah, we''re sorry. We really are," Malcolm and Reese followed suit, apologizing as well.

    "It''s okay, buddy. Why don''t you eat my sandwich while I make another one?" I lowered the little boy into the chair in front of my sandwich, handing him the plate along with the sandwich.

    "No," quickly, Reese said, "what he means is that Dewey prefers cereal for dinner," interrupting my suspicion, Malcolm quickly intervened. Again, and unsurprisingly, the whole situation was obviously suspicious.

    "Is that true, Dewey? Do you want cereal?" shaking the hair of the small, big-eared child, I asked, receiving a small nod along with a shoulder shrug, which I interpreted as a yes.

    "Okay," moving again to the kitchen drawers, I took out one of the family''s cereal bowls and one of the suspiciously heavy boxes of sugary cereal. Opening the box to check its contents, I found a bunch of "worms?" I asked the kids, still alive and crawling with a lot of dirt inside the cardboard box. "Is this supposed to scare me?" I asked the kids, taking one of the worms from the box. In my life, I had touched much grosser things than a simple worm.

    The three older kids seemed disappointed, probably because of my lack of reaction. "Where did you get so many live worms?" I asked, genuinely surprised, putting the worm I had in my hand back into the box.

    "At the bait store," as if it were obvious, Reese replied.

    How long ago did they go to the bait store? And where did they keep the worms?

    Leaving the box securely closed on the kitchen island, I took another cereal box, fortunately with the content it should have.

    "Why haven''t you had dinner?" suspiciously, after serving Dewey his cereal, I asked. I sat down in front of my sandwich, receiving strange and fixed stares from the other kids. "We were waiting for you," falsely friendly, Francis said. "Yes, we were waiting for you to start," suspiciously, Reese added, seeming eager for me to bite into my sandwich.

    They had done something to my sandwich. Quickly, before the eager child could prevent it, I swapped his sandwich with mine. "I mixed up the sandwiches, Reese. I''m glad you didn''t eat mine," amused by the delayed reaction of the child, I quickly bit into my now new sandwich. "What''s wrong, Reese? Aren''t you going to eat dinner?" I asked, making the child audibly swallow.

    Only Dewey and I were eating our dinners while the other three kids were completely focused on the sandwich in front of Reese. "Come on, bite," I kindly and emphatically offered/ordered the child, who slowly lifted the sandwich from the plate and in a quick motion chewed a part of it.

    Everyone at the table, except Dewey, who apparently didn''t understand the situation, was watching Reese, waiting for any reaction. Slowly chewing, Reese raised his thumb, nodding a moment later and immediately ran to the sink to spit, gargling with tap water again and again.

    Taking the sandwich that the child had bitten a moment ago, I checked its contents, finding a strange white paste spread on the bread, "What is this?" I asked, bringing the sandwich to my nose to smell it. Immediately pulling it away, it smelled horribly.

    "Concentrated garlic," again disappointed, Malcolm said in a whisper.

    "Well, good luck getting close to anyone," amused, I said to the child who was still gargling with water.

    After we threw the remaining garlic sandwich in the trash, Reese served himself a bowl of cereal for dinner, still with a disgusted look on his face, probably unable to get rid of the garlic taste in his mouth.

    After finishing dinner while washing the used dishes, the kids were watching TV on a channel I had previously chosen¡ªthe VHS tape of the movie was in my line of sight while making sure the kids didn''t try to take it. "PJ," behind me, Malcolm, who had gone to the bathroom a while ago, had red welts on his face as he coughed into his hand.

    "I think I''m having an allergic reaction to pickles," the child said as he scratched his throat.

    Quickly approaching the child, I checked for any other symptoms that would show an allergic reaction. He definitely had small red rash outbreaks on his skin, but apart from that, in the short time it took me to check his face, I couldn''t see signs of nasal congestion, no red or watery eyes, and on breathing, I couldn''t hear wheezing. In addition to that, the child didn''t seem to have stomach pain.

    Suspicious, I guided the child to the sink, taking a damp cloth and passing it over one of the visible ''rashes'' on the child. Surprisingly, the small spot disappeared. "Look at that, it seems it wasn''t an allergic reaction, just a makeup mishap," pushing the child''s head away slightly, I distanced him. I wanted him to call his mother, or was it just a distraction.

    Quickly checking the couch behind the kitchen, I could only see two of the three heads that should be there. It was a distraction.

    Moving Malcolm out of my way in long and quick strides, I reached where I had left the VHS tape, which now, not surprisingly, had disappeared.

    Turning back with the child, I found him proudly.

    "How many TVs are there in the house?" I asked calmly, surprising him by not receiving the reaction I expected.

    "One," he said after a moment of reflection with drooping shoulders.

    "Yes, as long as I make sure you don''t put the movie in, having the tape is not really a problem," shaking the child''s head, I continued washing the dirty dishes.

    After that, the night passed peacefully. Apparently, with no more ideas for pranks, the kids had given up.

    The first to fall asleep was Dewey, who was already tired. Once again, I took him to his room, hoping the ''clown'' wouldn''t appear again, at least not while I''m here.

    Since the kids had behaved at least during the last hour, I also, a bit tired of cartoons, decided to put on something else, finding a silly comedy movie that seemed to interest the kids.

    After finishing the movie, Malcolm was the next to fall asleep, who fortunately decided on his own to walk to his room. "You need to brush your teeth before bedtime," I reminded the child after he said goodbye.

    After a loud yawn, Reese reluctantly stood up as well. "I thought staying up late could be fun, but now I''m just tired," annoyed, he said, walking to his room without saying goodbye.

    "You above all need to brush your teeth buddy" I managed to tell the boy before he disappeared at the door of his room.

    The only one left was Francis, whom I hadn''t heard from since dinner. "So, do you have anything else planned?" I asked the child, smiling ironically. "There''s still almost twenty minutes until your parents arrive," surprised, I said after checking my watch; time had passed quickly.

    With his head down and thoughtful, Francis checked the hallway of the house before asking in a whisper, "Is it really my job to protect my brothers?"

    "Well, it''s really your parents'' job. You should just focus on enjoying your childhood and studying," I replied honestly, surprised by his question. He had been thinking about what I told him. "But," I added abruptly, "as the older ones, you and I were born with another burden. Reese, Malcolm, and eventually Dewey see you as a role model. You have more experience in the world, and therefore, they will look to you first to solve the problems they encounter. They might not say it out loud, but that''s how it will be," I continued calmly, once again making the child reflect.

    In silence, we continued watching TV until their parents arrived.

    Slowly, the front door of the house opened, revealing Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson entering cautiously. They seemed to be looking for a disaster, probably pleasantly surprised not to find anything broken or burnt.

    "Good evening," I greeted the couple, getting up from the sofa. "PJ, did you lose our number?" Mr. Wilkerson asked, worried, putting his hand on my shoulder as he seemed to search for visible injuries.

    "No, I didn''t need to call, sir. It was a quiet night," hiding my pride that the kids had locked me out of the house.

    "Don''t lie," seriously and calmly, Mrs. Wilkerson said, approaching slowly.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and Not a Doctor.

    This chapter was planned to be uploaded in the middle of last week. Due to personal reasons, I was unable to do so, and therefore, I postponed it until today.

    So, for the first time, I made a change in perspective. It was short and not very substantial, but I hope you understand that it was just an experiment. If I plan to occasionally change perspectives later in the story, I might have to try other approaches in how to do it, but until then, you''ll have to endure, along with me, my attempts, hopefully not failed.

    With this, I hope that the immersion of the reading was not affected by the line breaks in the middle of the chapter.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 38

    Upon being immediately caught in the small lie, Mrs. Wilkerson took me by surprise. I saw Francis, who had nervously stood up beside me. "It was nothing I couldn''t handle on my own," I assured the woman after a few seconds of contemplation.

    "See, we behaved well; we don''t need a babysitter," Francis quickly interjected.

    "That''s not what he said," Mrs. Wilkerson scolded her son, looking at him sternly with one eye narrowing slowly, almost as if scanning him.

    After a few tense seconds, the woman turned her eyes away and tilted her head, releasing her son. "Go brush your teeth," she ordered, making her son quickly exit while muttering inaudible things.

    "You did a good job, PJ. You were here all night, didn''t have to call the fire department or the police, two out of three kids are already in bed, and it doesn''t seem like there was much destruction in the house," Mrs. Wilkerson graciously listed as she searched through the house.

    "I knew you were the right one sport," Mr. Wilkerson proudly said with a big smile as he pulled out his wallet.

    "Thank you," I said, taking money from Mr. Wilkerson. "By the way," I continued walking towards where I had hidden the things I had taken from the kids, "I had to confiscate these," as I left the stapler and rat trap, "and in that cereal box, there''s a ton of bait. The kids have hidden an unrated horror movie somewhere, and one of the trash cans has water with burned things," I said as a farewell, approaching the door, followed by a surprised Mr. Wilkerson.

    "I''m sorry about that," the man shamefully opened the door quickly. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked.

    "No need, thank you, Mr. Wilkerson. Goodnight, Mrs. Wilkerson," I said, quickly leaving the family''s house and walking back home. Fortunately, I hadn''t brought my car; who knows what kind of things these kids would have done to it.

    Unlike a few hours ago, the street was almost completely dark, only illuminated by streetlights and the moonlight, but unlike how I would have felt in the neighborhood of my past life, I was not worried about my safety.

    Inside my house, the only ones present, at least in the living room, were Bob and Mom, comfortably watching TV together. "Hi, PJ. How did it go?" Mom silently asked, moving away from Bob''s embrace.

    "Hi, Mom. It went well, though I''m quite tired. I just want to take a bath and sleep," I assured her, quickly heading to the bathroom, winking at Bob when I was out of the pregnant woman''s sight, receiving a silent thank-you from the man as I let them continue their ''romantic'' movie date.

    I was really tired, so after cleaning up with a comfortable hot bath, I almost immediately laid my head on the pillow and fell asleep.

    The next day, being Sunday and having no plans, I found myself surprisingly watching cartoons again with a young kid.

    "PJ," with an excessively sweet voice, Teddy appeared in my field of vision, clasping her hands and strangely widening her eyes, seemingly trying to force some kind of cuteness.

    "Uh-oh, this is what she does before asking Dad for something," Gabe playfully said. "Careful, PJ, hide your wallet," the kid continued, amused.

    "It''s not true, shut up!" losing her strange posture immediately, Teddy shouted at the kid, who began to laugh lightly, seeing that his plot to annoy the teenager had worked.

    Pushing the little kid''s head slightly, "don''t bother Teddy," I reprimanded him, "what do you need?" I asked the teenager.

    "So..." as quickly as before, Teddy changed her attitude and voice again, forcing sweetness, "Mom says if you take us, I can go to the mall with Baja and Bianca," she quickly said with hope in her voice. "I promise we won''t bother you, and it''s just for a couple of hours," without waiting for a response, Teddy continued.

    "Yeah, sure," I replied to the nervous teenager. I didn''t mind, anyway; I had nothing else to do.

    "Oh, come on, please, just for a little while. Mom is going out with her work friends for coffee, and Dad is working an emergency. You''re the only one with a driving license and free time today," apparently not hearing my response, Teddy already had a plan in case I refused.

    "Teddy¡ª" trying to resolve the misunderstanding, I was interrupted by the energetic teenager. "Please, pretty please!" pushing Gabe forcefully to wedge herself in the center of the sofa, Teddy practically begged again, widening her eyes sadly. Obviously annoyed at being pushed, Gabe pushed Teddy back with his shoulder "he said yes" the kid said exasperated.

    "Really?!" surprised and unfortunately for my ears, Teddy asked joyfully, shouting before tightly hugging my neck. "Thanks, thanks, PJ." After a few seconds where I could hardly breathe, Teddy finally let go of my neck, quickly getting up to run out of the living room. "I have to call Bianca and Baja," she shouted before entering the kitchen.

    "Women, huh," sighing with annoyance, Gabe settled back in his place, raising the volume of his cartoon before taking a sip from his milk glass, which he calmly left back on the small table in front of the sofa.

    Amused again, I pushed the kid''s head, much to his chagrin, without him being able to avoid it.

    Several minutes later, and a mystery more than a talking dog and his friends managed to solve, Teddy returned excitedly. "Let''s go, let''s go," pulling me by an arm, the teenager urged me to move out of the house.

    I had barely managed to grab my keys before my excited sister managed to pull me out the door. When we reached ''Debbie,'' I opened the doors before entering. "Put on your seatbelt," I ordered the teenager before putting on my own and starting the car.

    "All right, where are we going first?" I asked Teddy after a moment, allowing the car''s engine to warm up.

    "Let''s go to Bianca''s first," turning on the radio, searching for a good station, moving things inside the car, opening the glove compartment, and looking at herself in the small mirror of the sun visor, Teddy said casually.

    "Oh yeah, sure, let''s go to Bianca''s house," I said sarcastically. "Where does Bianca live?" I asked after a moment, seeing that Teddy didn''t understand my sarcastic comment.

    "Oh, yeah, sorry," embarrassed, Teddy said before starting to guide me.

    Several minutes after driving guided by Teddy, we arrived in front of a beautiful two-story house surrounded by a large garden at the corner of a street. "We''re here!" Teddy cheerfully said, immediately getting out of the car as I parked ''Debbie'' in front of the house.

    From the driver''s seat, I could see Kat comfortably lying on a small porch chair, quietly reading a book. It seemed that Teddy had greeted her as they passed by because without taking her eyes off the book, Kat raised a hand to wave at my sister, who was already knocking on the door.

    A few seconds after Teddy knocked on the door, it opened, revealing her teenage friend, who, excited to see my sister, dragged her inside before closing the door behind them.

    Surprised by my sister''s sudden abduction, all I could do was wait inside the car for her and her friend to come out. At least I still had the music station Teddy had chosen.

    It was interesting to witness the dichotomy in Kat''s behavior, inside and outside of school. For the past few weeks, every time I coincidentally encountered her in the school hallways, she looked much more upset, strangely always alone. However, now, even when alone, there was a calmness about her as she read her book, involuntarily moving her feet that hung outside the small chair she was lying on.

    Feeling the obligation to get out of the car to greet her, I followed the same path Teddy had taken a few moments ago until I reached the few steps before the porch of the house.

    "Hey, Kat," I greeted the girl immersed in her book.

    "Hi, PJ," she responded calmly while turning a page without diverting her attention from the book. "PJ!" a moment later, probably registering what she had just said, she shouted in surprise, closing her book immediately and hiding it behind her back as she straightened up on the chair. "What are you doing here?" she quickly asked while erratically fixing her messy hair with her free hand.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I''m taking your sister, along with Teddy and another friend of theirs, to the mall," I explained to the teenager, who strangely seemed disappointed for a moment. "Oh, yeah, Teddy," probably remembering having greeted my sister a few seconds ago, she said, pointing to the door of her house.

    As Kat raised her hand, she saw the sleeve of her hoodie, then took a hem of it, looking at it for a brief moment before quickly getting up, yelling "no!" to run surprisingly fast into the house.

    "Yeah, it was nice to see you too. See you later at school," I said to no one as the girl left me alone outside her house. Kat''s behavior took me by surprise. The hoodie was a bit old and a bit torn, yes, but I didn''t think it was enough to elicit such a reaction. Well, obviously, it was the product of a teenager''s modesty.

    Checking my watch as I walked back to ''Debbie,'' I hoped that my sister and her friend wouldn''t take much longer to come out of the house. A few steps before I could leave the Stratford family''s garden, the door of the house opened again. "Wait," I heard a woman''s voice say.

    From the door of the Stratford house, a blonde woman stood with a pleasant smile. "Oh, hi, nice to meet you, Mrs. Stratford. I''m PJ Duncan; my sister Teddy is inside with your daughter Bianca," I greeted, assuming the woman''s identity, then walked back to the beginning of the porch steps.

    "Yes, I know. Thank you for taking Bianca," the woman kindly said, still maintaining her pleasant smile. "So, you''re the famous PJ," she said playfully, studying me alongside ''Debbie.''

    "Famous?" I asked, surprised.

    "Oh, yes, it''s just that teachers talk about you and the little genius kid occasionally in the parent-teacher meetings," the woman said, amused by what was probably a surprised expression on my face. "And we went to see the last game," she continued before losing her playful smile, "sorry about that," she quickly apologized, probably thinking that the memory of the lost game had affected me, smiling again, albeit a bit forced.

    "Don''t worry," I said, trying to show that her comment hadn''t affected me. "We''ll win the next one," I asserted confidently to the woman, making her smile again. "So, we''ll definitely be there to support you," she kindly assured before comfortably falling silent.

    Not knowing how to continue the conversation, I also remained silent, making a sudden feeling of awkwardness grow quickly, if possible.

    Descending the few porch steps of her house, the woman lost her friendly smile, putting on a much more serious face. "Look, PJ, you seem like a nice guy," she said, checking the door of the house and speaking in a low voice, "and I''m only telling you this because I believe you''re really a great kid," she continued, lightly squeezing my arm, "please take care of my daughter." With seriousness, the woman requested.

    "Oh yeah, don''t worry about it, Mrs. Stratford. I''ll keep an eye on wherever the girls go in the mall; Bianca will be safe," I assured the woman, imitating her serious demeanor.

    "You''re very kind, PJ, but I didn''t mean Bianca," the woman responded, smiling again as she shook her head. Before I could ask what she meant, the door of the house opened again, and Teddy and Bianca came out heading towards ''Debbie,'' talking merrily. "We''re ready, PJ. Let''s go. Mrs. Stratford, it was nice to see you again," Teddy said to the woman, who also said goodbye to the teenager and her younger daughter.

    If the woman wasn''t referring to Bianca when she asked me to take care of her daughter, then she was referring to "Katherina!" turning toward her house, the woman shouted, and a moment later, Kat, with a much less worn hoodie, came out of the house with a furrowed brow, walking slowly towards us.

    "Please, PJ," smiling again, the woman said before walking back into her house. She stopped in front of her daughter for a moment, kissing her cheek and whispering something that, judging by Kat''s reaction, slightly annoyed the teenager, making the woman laugh as she continued walking back into her house.

    "Hello again," I greeted the teenager, amused. "So, are you coming with us?" when Kat reached my side, I asked playfully as we walked towards ''Debbie.''

    "It seems so," staring ahead, Kat responded with irritation as she continued walking until we reached the car and the girls waiting.

    "Hello, Bianca," I greeted the younger Stratford as I opened the driver''s door and adjusted the seat for them to get into the back.

    "Hi, PJ," for some reason, the amused teenager greeted back before quickly entering the car behind Teddy, apparently understanding how, promptly returning the passenger seat to its place behind her.

    "Well, after you," I joked to a strangely irritated Kat, who quickly entered the car, allowing me to close the door behind her.

    Bidding a final farewell to Mrs. Stratford, who stood on her porch with a much wider smile, I circled around ''Debbie'' to enter through the driver''s door.

    Inside the car, the younger girls were laughing amusedly at something. "What''s so funny?" I asked as I started the car. "Nothing," irritated Kat was the one who replied, making the girls in the back laugh even more.

    "Why did you decide to come with us?" genuinely intrigued, I asked Kat, who was staring fixedly out of her window. "It''s a stupid rule my dad made," explained Kat, annoyed.

    "Yeah, right, as if you didn''t want to come," Bianca from the back sarcastically added.

    "Shut up!" annoyed, Kat turned in her seat to shout at her sister, who was again laughing with Teddy.

    "Where are we going now?" I asked, trying to quiet the laughter of the girls so that Kat wouldn''t be so upset.

    After finishing her laughter, Teddy again took charge of directing the way. Besides the cheerful chatter of the girls in the back of the car and the music playing, there could have been an uncomfortable silence as Kat continued to stare out of the passenger window.

    Surprisingly, Baja, Teddy''s other friend, lived on the same street as Alan. In fact, Alan''s house was just a few neighboring houses from where I had parked. After letting the two younger girls out on my side of the car, I didn''t have to wait long this time for them to return, now with the new addition of their third friend.

    "PJ," acknowledging with a slight head movement, Baja greeted, entering the car behind Teddy and Bianca.

    As we passed by Alan''s house, "Baja, do you know the Treveilers?" I asked, hiding my concern. "Yes, Mr. Treveiler is a veteran. My mom says he''s one of those who obviously saw action. He wakes up very early in the morning with his older son to exercise on the street and train boxing in their frontyard. He''s very cute, the son, not Mr. Treveiler," the girl continued, clarifying the last part while trying to stop Teddy and Bianca''s teasing.

    "Well, I''ll tell Alan that you think he''s cute. I''m sure he''ll be pleased to know," I joked, making at least two of the three girls in the back laugh.

    After several more minutes of driving, we arrived at the Stone Creek Mall. "So, don''t leave the mall, and we''ll meet in about three hours at the entrance," I told the younger girls as we all got out of the car. "Yes, mom," Teddy sarcastically replied before leaving with her friends, laughing again.

    Now alone with Kat, the uncomfortable silence that was previously overshadowed by other things inside the car was painfully obvious. "So, do you have anything you want to buy?" uncomfortably, I asked the silent and still upset girl.

    "Yeah," fixing her gaze ahead again, Kat started walking towards the mall.

    "So, how have you been?" I asked as I walked alongside Kat in the mall parking lot, "How have things been at school?".

    "Why are you here with me?" stopping abruptly, Kat asked, regulating her voice, as at the beginning of her abrupt question, she spoke much louder than she should have planned. Now she seemed embarrassed to attract attention.

    "What?" surprised, I asked without understanding. "Yeah, why are you with me? You can go on your own; we''ll meet in three hours at the entrance, right?" Kat quickly said with exasperation. "Well, I don''t know, I thought it would be fun. We could talk about school or what we do outside of school. I mean, we''re friends, right?" I asked puzzled by the sudden expression of disbelief in Kat.

    "Friends, you and me?" strangely surprised, Kat incredulously asked.

    "Well, at least that''s what I thought," puzzled, I said. "Aren''t you?" I asked, receiving as a response a thoughtful frown, slowly shaking her head.

    Well, this clears it up. She really ignored me because she didn''t want to be friends with me. "Can I at least know why you don''t like me?" I possibly did something unintentionally.

    "What?" this time it was Kat''s turn to ask, surprised.

    "Yeah, well, obviously, I did something and now you do not like me. You ignored me the whole way in ''Debbie,''" I explained, recalling the awkward moment in the car.

    "Debbie?" Kat asked, puzzled.

    "My car," I responded, feeling a bit embarrassed as Kat immediately mocked, "you named your car?" laughing, Kat asked, obviously amused by the new piece of information.

    "The previous owner did it. I just kept the name out of respect," feeling strangely attacked, I quickly explained, making Kat laugh again and making me unable to help but join in her laughter.

    "You didn''t do anything," after laughing, Kat said with a sudden change of attitude. "It''s just that I thought you wouldn''t want to be seen with me." Embarrassed, the teenager continued.

    "What? Why wouldn''t I want to be seen with you?" surprised, I asked. "Are you a communist?" jokingly, I asked silently as I looked around. Being in the 90s in Texas, I was completely sure that would be a valid reason to speak secretly.

    "Don''t be an idiot," amused by the comment, Kat shook her head. "It''s because of the rumor, you know," she continued, again avoiding my embarrassed gaze.

    "Rumor?" once again, for what seemed like the tenth consecutive time in our conversation, I asked puzzled. "Usually, I''m the last to hear rumors at school, and I think I have enough intelligence to discern between truth and a rumor," I said, pretending to be offended. "I don''t even care to know what the rumor is. I''m sure it''s a lie," not letting the girl explain, I quickly spoke. "I''m sure that if I hadn''t cleared up the rumor that was spreading about me, a few more days, and they would be calling me the second coming of hypocrites," I ironically commented, surprisingly making Kat laugh in agreement.

    "You''re right," again embarrassed, Kat affirmed. "I let a stupid rumor affect me. Sorry for ignoring you," with a small smile, Kat said, now at least without avoiding my gaze.

    "It''s okay. It''s not like the whole ride was awkward in the front of the car," sarcastically pretending pain, I said, making Kat roll her eyes, fake laughing again, "don''t be overdramatic; you had Debbie to keep you company," blatantly mocking, Kat laughed before moving forward.

    "For your information, Debbie is incredibly nice to me," following Kat towards the mall, I responded, managing to make Kat laugh again, amused.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I am not American and Not a Doctor.

    In the movie, there is no Mrs. Stratford (in fact, it''s one of many plot holes). Is she dead? Did she simply abandon them? We don''t know. She is only mentioned but does not appear in the movie, and it is the father alone who takes care of the girls.

    With this, I mark the beginning of the end, but of what? The one who answers correctly wins an incredible prize (the same prize as before).

    Having said that,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I will correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 39

    "Does Regina already know about your relationship with the beautiful ''Debbie''?" still amused, sarcastically Kat asked while making a great effort to push the glass door of the mall.

    "Ha ha, very funny," I said, laughing falsely, as I helped the teenager open the door, which was certainly a bit heavy.

    "I could have done that on my own," embarrassed, Kat defended herself as she walked past me while I held the door open.

    "I''m sure you could, but I''d like to visit at least one store before the girls return in three hours," jokingly I replied, still holding the door open for a couple with a little girl in their arms, receiving a silent thank you as they passed.

    "Ha ha, very funny," imitating my comment, Kat said as she walked ahead.

    "Now, where do you want to go?" after letting go of the door and reaching the side of the teenager, I asked.

    "What about...?" stretching the question exaggeratedly, she advanced quickly before suddenly stopping, "the music store?" she said with false surprise, pointing to the place hopefully.

    "Sure, why not?" amused by the obviousness of her feigned surprise, I replied as we entered the store.

    "So, what kind of music do you like?" inside the store, searching through a rack full of records, Kat asked while moving her head to the rhythm of the music ringing in the store.

    "I don''t know. I used to listen to whatever my dad played in his truck; now I just let Teddy choose the station," I replied, looking at the album covers in the store.

    Finding one of the covers very funny, I amusingly showed it to the suddenly silent Kat, finding the teenager with a completely incredulous expression. "What?" I asked worried.

    "You don''t know what kind of music you like?" still incredulous, Kat took the album from my hand, asking again, now offended, "at least a band you like more than others?" quickly she asked again, pointing to the album she took from my hands, "Kiss?" she asked again, now offended.

    "No way," seeing my inability to answer her questions, Kat, in a mix of disbelief and offense, said, "Nirvana, Green Day, Red Hot Chili Peppers," taking albums near her, Kat listed one after another while I increasingly embarrassed denied, "there must be one that you know," defeated after taking several more albums, Kat said while forcefully putting the ones she had in her hands back on the rack.

    "I know Elvis Presley," seeing a poster with his face, I pointed hopefully, unfortunately causing Kat to furrow her brow even more.

    "Elvis," she repeated forcefully, still completely incredulous, "I''m with a caveman," concerned, Kat said.

    "I mean, possibly I don''t know them by name, but I''m sure I''ve heard a song by" I said as I reached for another album from the shelves, "Queen," I continued after reading the name on the cover, making Kat laugh.

    "I can''t believe it. Possibly the third smartest person in the whole school, the quarterback, the second coming of Hippocrates, and you don''t know who Queen is," now much more amused, Kat sarcastically said.

    "I''m not the second coming of Hippocrates," I quickly denied, embarrassed, "and, the third person, why not the first?" falsely offended, I asked.

    "Don''t get your hopes up; obviously, Sheldon Cooper is the smartest; he''s like ten years old and is in high school," ironically, Kat responded, picking up the albums she had left on one of the shelves.

    "Nine," I corrected the teenager, "and that doesn''t completely answer my question," I could say before being pulled by her towards a player at one end of the store.

    "Put these on; the second smartest person in the whole school has to fix your musical knowledge," arrogantly handing me some questionably clean headphones connected to the player, Kat ordered while she took another pair before starting the player.

    "This is Queen, a British rock band," as the music started, Kat, tapping my shoulder to get my attention, explained, pointing to her headphones while moving to the rhythm of the music.

    "Oh, come on, you can''t listen to music like this; we''re not in a museum, loosen up a bit," surely speaking louder than she should in the enclosed space, Kat ordered again, pushing me with her shoulder, urging me to dance with her.

    After several bumps on my shoulder, both Kat and the music in the headphones convinced me to move to the rhythm. Obviously, at first, it was a bit awkward; I had never danced before, but as the music continued, it became much easier.

    Ignoring Kat''s laughter, probably at my ''dance,'' I continued to enjoy the music, but from her teasing, it seemed like Kat had forgotten to dance, so it was my turn to push her, unfortunately, managing, on the first attempt, to make the teenager start dancing again.

    After several more songs, Kat changed the record, showing me again the name of the band and the style of their songs. That''s how we continued having fun with several more albums.

    Quickly, time passed; when we reached the last of the albums Kat had chosen, the girl was already exhausted from all the movement that surprisingly turned out to be a tiring activity. "We''ve been here for over an hour," after checking the time on my watch, I announced, making Kat return the player to its original state when we entered the store.

    "Okay, by the way, you have to buy these and listen to them from now on," taking several other albums, Kat didn''t give an option to discuss as she carried them to the counter.

    "So, you''re going to buy something, I was already thinking about how to kick them out of here; this is not a club," the cashier, an older teenager marked by acne all over his face, rudely said while pressing the buttons on the cash register, obviously annoyed for whatever reason.

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    With my now new collection of albums in a bag, we left the store laughing as we remembered the now embarrassing actions we had done without realizing that the store manager was watching us.

    Being far enough away from the judgmental view of the record store manager, we continued walking in a pleasant silence through the mall aisles.

    "Now, what do you want to do? We still have a little over an hour until we leave," after a moment, I broke the silence, still walking alongside Kat.

    Taking my question completely seriously, Kat stopped to think for a moment. "I know a great place," after a few seconds, excitedly remembering, Kat quickly said, walking, "let''s go!" advancing faster, Kat shamelessly shouted, making me walk behind her to catch up.

    After a few stores, we arrived at a pet store with glass showcases to show little animals playing and being cute in general. Kat, with her face dangerously close to one of the cages, was admiring a small cat with a big smile.

    "Isn''t it beautiful?" she cheerfully whispered.

    "I''m more of a dog person," I replied, watching as the animal completely ignored what was happening around it, licking one of its paws completely apathetic.

    "Do you have pets?" I asked, seeing Kat continue to look at the cat.

    "No, Dad hates any kind of animal, says they''re dirty, and in his work area, they''re even dangerous," calmly explained Kat as she walked to another of the enclosed animals.

    "What does your dad do?" intrigued, I asked.

    "He''s a doctor," Kat quickly replied, "the kind that takes care of pregnant women and delivers babies," she continued explaining as she lightly tapped the glass of one of the cages with a small dog inside with her finger.

    "An obstetrician," I said, deciphering the type of doctor that Mr. Stratford possibly was.

    "Yeah, that," surprised, Kat confirmed, "you don''t know Queen, but you know what an obstetrician is," amused, Kat shook her head, laughing at the small dog that was excited to see new faces, "I can see why you prefer dogs; Ellie has a much bigger dog, and he always tries, you know, to mount you."

    "Yeah, dogs do that," amused, I affirmed, also lightly tapping the glass of the dog, making the small dog even more excited. "Who is Ellie?" I asked, remembering what Kat said.

    "One of my friends," after a few forced seconds, she answered.

    "Oh, one of the girls who were with you when Regina and I were... found," a little embarrassed, I said, remembering the other two girls I hadn''t seen with Kat for a long time.

    "Yeah," in a strange sarcastic tone, Kat said, quickly moving away to another part of the store.

    Touching the glass of the small dog one last time as a farewell, I walked behind Kat, who was calmly watching a fish tank full of little fish of the same color swimming peacefully.

    Unlike when we left the music store, watching the fish swim in their tank left us in an uncomfortable silence.

    "So, now they don''t talk to you because of the rumor?" I quickly said, trying to be as insensitive as possible.

    Taking a deep breath, Kat pondered for a moment, shaking her head. "No, I distanced myself from them," she confessed, embarrassed, "it''s silly, I know, but everyone was talking about it, and I knew they knew about it; I just didn''t want to know what they thought about it, understand?" still embarrassed, Kat said.

    "Yes, I think I understand. You''re afraid they''ll think the rumor is true," I said, and Kat nodded, confirming my theory. "Well, I know you didn''t ask for my opinion, but it seems to me that you''re robbing their opportunity to prove whether they''re truly your friends or not," I continued, making Kat furrow her brow in confusion. "Yes, if they''re truly your friends, they''ll understand that the rumor is false; if not, well, they weren''t truly your friends, and you saved yourself from a fake friendship," I explained to the teenager.

    "It''s easy for you to say; your rumor was that you''re a genius doctor," sarcastically argued Kat.

    "Yes, not very embarrassing now that I think about it," I ironically said. "Although there was also the problem of the fight; I''ve never fought with anyone."

    "What?" incredulous, Kat asked, "you''ve never fought with anyone, you?"

    "No, well, if you don''t count the time Alan stopped me even before I could even realize it, but that time no punches were thrown," I commented, recalling the incident with Alan. "Besides, me? Why would I fight with someone?"

    "You''re a football player," the teenager responded, raising her shoulders, "isn''t it your job to, I don''t know, hit other players?" Kat said, puzzled.

    "What?" incredulous, I asked, "is that what you think football is?" I asked again, receiving a relaxed nod from Kat.

    "I''m with a cavewoman," I affirmed, making Kat roll her eyes in annoyance.

    Leaving the pet store, "how about we get some coffee; my treat," I said, leading us to a mall donut shop.

    The mall store was crowded with young people; I even recognized a couple of people from school who recognized me back. Strangely, they were very surprised to see me there; noticing my gaze, they made a strange incredulous salute.

    After a couple of people, it was our turn in front of the cashier, a barista who greeted us quite unwillingly when we reached the front. Apparently, being a barista is a truly exhausting job. Without asking, the barista was silently waiting for our orders, with his brow slightly furrowed.

    "I want a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream," Kat quickly ordered, "same for me," I ordered after her, making the barista close his eyes tightly for a second, sighing.

    A few minutes after paying, the two chocolate milkshakes were served in plastic cups with the store logo marked. "Let''s find a table," without waiting for Kat, I walked through the store to some empty seats. "Good milkshake," I affirmed after trying the drink when Kat arrived next to me.

    "Yeah," I hadn''t noticed before, but the teenager seemed a bit uncomfortable.

    "Is everything okay?" concerned, I asked, "yes, it''s just that, don''t turn around, but I think the girls at that other table go to our school," discreetly, Kat nodded her head to where she had greeted the other teenagers.

    "Oh yes, I greeted them when we came in," calmly, I affirmed, greeting again the teenagers who were still giving strange looks at our table.

    "Oh, this might be bad," worried, Kat took a big sip of her milkshake.

    "What? Why?" I asked, imitating her action; the milkshake tasted really good. "This again?" after a few seconds without receiving an answer while Kat seemed embarrassed, I deduced that whatever rumor was circulating in the school still bothered her, "I told you I don''t care about the rumor; you''re my friend," I explained to the teenager, who suddenly furrowed her brow.

    "No, that doesn''t worry me; you''re right, it''s a stupid rumor," she quickly said, dismissing my idea, "it''s just that you and I alone here seem like something else."

    "What?" I asked, "PJ, you have a girlfriend, and it seems like we''re completely alone drinking milkshakes at the mall. It''s not a joke anymore. What do you think Regina will think?" Kat slowly explained.

    Oh.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, Not a Doctor.

    This chapter was intended as filler for the previous one, but I separated it because I''m a bit busy with the new start of the school year. There''s a heavy workload, and I have to rearrange my schedule to have enough free time to write and study.

    I''d like to clarify a couple of things. I''m in my mid-20s, so I don''t have much idea about what was or wasn''t in the ''90s beyond what the entertainment world and internet knowledge have to offer.

    According to what I found, record stores, apart from vinyl, also sold CDs in 1990, but I''m not very sure about the availability at that time.

    I also researched, and obviously, the Chevelle SS from 1970 didn''t have a CD adaptation. Let''s ignore that and consider it one of the things Mr. Sparks updated in the car.

    Having said that,

    I think that''s it. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 40

    "It''ll be fine, I just need to explain to her why we''re here today so she doesn''t get the wrong idea," I assured Kat after thinking about it for a few seconds.

    "Okay, if you say so," Kat said, drinking from her milkshake, smiling strangely.

    "Yes I say so," I said, somewhat less convinced. "But enough of that, tell me, do you want to make music at some point?" I quickly changed the subject.

    "Why would you say something like that?" Kat asked nervously, coughing a little as my question seemed to catch her off guard while she drank her milkshake.

    "I don''t know," I sarcastically replied, pretending to think of a reason. "Possibly because of how much you enjoy music?" I asked ironically, making Kat roll her eyes with annoyance.

    "I don''t know, I mean, I really like music, yes, but make my own music?" Kat seemed to be thinking about the idea with a troubled expression as she shook her head slowly.

    "Why not?" I asked intrigued. "Gabe, my younger brother, is the only other person I know who enjoys music like you, and he loves playing his guitar," I explained, remembering my younger brother. "He''s even taking classes," I continued before taking a sip of my milkshake.

    "Do you have a brother besides Teddy?" Kat asked, changing the subject.

    "Oh yeah, Gabe is nine. There''s also one more on the way; Mom''s pregnant," I happily said, not realizing Kat''s subtle way of changing the conversation wait. "Hey!, don''t change the subject," I reprimanded the teenager, pointing at her now somehow disappointed face.

    "What''s wrong with all of you not talking about dreams?" I asked, genuinely puzzled, first Regina and now Kat. "I''ll tell you mine," I decisively said. "It''s no secret that I''m studying really hard to become a doctor. My dream is to someday make a big difference in someone''s life, and in my opinion, there''s no greater difference than saving someone''s life," I admitted shamelessly.

    "Now it''s your turn," I leaned back in my seat, sipping calmly from my milkshake, waiting for Kat to gain enough confidence.

    Sighing with closed eyes, Kat nodded. "Okay, yes, I would like to make music," as if expecting a negative reaction, she closed her eyes tightly, shrugging her shoulders.

    Surprised by her behavior, I continued sipping my milkshake; it really tasted good, I should come here more often. In the silence caused by Kat''s anticipation of my reaction, only the sound of slurping was heard, at least at our table.

    Opening her eyes, "You''re not going to make fun of me?" she asked, seemingly genuinely intrigued.

    "Why would I? I mean, thinking about it, what I said is much funnier, ''making a big difference in someone''s life,'' who do I think I am, a superhero?" I sarcastically said, making Kat laugh.

    "At least you''re doing something to pursue your dream, heck, even your brother is putting in more effort than I am," the teenager said sadly, stopping laughing.

    "Everyone does things at their own pace; Gabe''s might be taking classes to improve, maybe yours is learning on your own," I said, finishing my milkshake.

    "Are you done with that?" surprised, Kat looked at the empty glass in the table. "It was really good," I defensively said, falsely offended by her judicious look.

    "I can see that," Kat laughed, taking a sip of her milkshake. "I mean, I already know how to play the guitar, I guess I don''t need classes for that, but right now, I''m just writing stuff, just ideas for the moment," she continued.

    "I bet they''re good ideas," seeing my empty glass, I debated internally whether to order another milkshake or not.

    "Careful, I might take your word for it; your car is pretty cool," biting her straw lightly, Kat said playfully.

    "I''m starting to get attached to ''Debbie,'' and I couldn''t bet her, I don''t know what she would think of me," jokingly, I replied seriously, getting Kat to snort again, rolling her eyes. "But aside from ''Debbie,'' I''m willing to bet anything else," I said confidently, pushing the empty glass in front of me; I was starting to improve my fitness, I couldn''t start to backtrack.

    "Anything?" raising one of her eyebrows, Kat asked seriously.

    Crossing my arms over my chest, "wow Stratford, we''re in public, control yourself," jokingly, I said, falsely embarrassed.

    "What?" practically shouting as she forcefully placed her milkshake on the table, almost spilling it, "I didn''t mean that, idiot," she quickly continued, embarrassed, lowering her voice volume, avoiding looking at the other people in the donut shop.

    "Then what were you thinking? Pervert," amused by her reaction, I asked, squinting my eyes.

    "I was thinking you''d do something embarrassing at school or something silly like that, I don''t know," blushing, Kat quickly defended herself, "and don''t call me that," she added belatedly, clearly uncomfortable for some reason.

    "I''m sorry," seeing that my comment had affected Kat, I quickly apologized.

    "It''s okay, you don''t have to apologize for thinking someone would want to do something perverted with you, I''m sure if you ask ''Debbie'' nicely, she wouldn''t mind," losing her seriousness with a big sarcastic smile, Kat said.

    "She loves me," I defended myself again, falsely offended, eliminating the uncomfortable moment entirely.

    Several minutes later, amidst pleasant conversation between friends, Kat and I exited the store once more to wait for the girls, as the three hours had ended. Fortunately, we quickly found them on their way to the mall entrance.

    In my car, Kat selected one of the discs she had previously chosen for me. As I turned up the volume, I began to enjoy the music along with the three younger teenagers in the back seat.

    I had to drop off all the teenage girls who were not blood-related to me at their own homes, and since Baja''s house was the closest to the mall, that''s where I headed first.

    The journey was relatively short, or at least it felt that way. Like in the music store, Kat quickly became lost in the lyrics and rhythm of the music, infectiously captivating the girls in the back seat and somewhat myself, although I had to remain completely focused on the road, thus not as immersed in the songs.

    Parking in front of Baja''s house, I stepped out of the car to adjust my seat and allow the teenager to exit as well.

    While waiting outside the car for the girls to bid farewell, my eyes intuitively searched for Alan''s house. Surprisingly, he was in his front yard with his father, both wearing gloves on their hands as they exchanged blows. It seemed that while Alan attempted quick and, to my inexperienced eyes, hard punches, Mr. Treveiler effortlessly diverted them, swiftly striking my friend whenever he lost balance from his failed attempts, appearing more like a lesson than simple training.

    "Thanks for taking me to the mall and bringing me back, PJ," Baja said with a slight embarrassed smile, probably thinking it was some kind of trouble.

    "Oh, it''s nothing, Baja. I was free, so it''s no trouble," I reassured her.

    "Well, thanks anyway. See you later," she quickly said, possibly still embarrassed, before briskly walking towards her house.

    As I returned my gaze in search of my friend and his father, I found the front of their house completely empty. At some point during my short farewell with Baja, they must have gone back inside their house.

    After readjusting my seat, I entered ''Debbie'', waiting a few more seconds until Baja entered her house and closed the door before turning on the car again, causing the previously silenced music to resume playing through the speakers as we drove off the street shared by my friend Alan and Baja.

    When we arrived at the Stratford''s house, on the sidewalk in front of the house, a car that wasn''t there before was parked. "Daddy''s back," Bianca said from the back of ''Debbie'', making Kat sigh lightly, missing me a bit.

    Surely my confusion was visible on my face because Kat felt the need to explain, "He''s just going to interrogate us about where we''ve been," she said with annoyance, nodding towards her sister, "you know, being one of those doctors," she continued, "an obstetrician," I reminded her of the specialty, "yeah, that''s it. He deals with a lot of teenage mothers, and he''s very concerned about anything related to us," she finished explaining as if it were an absurd topic.

    "Well, the percentage of teenage mothers in the United States currently is twelve percent, which means that mathematically one out of every ten pregnant women your father treats are teenagers who obviously remind him of you, his teenage daughters," I explained, supporting Mr. Stratford''s point, as I parked ''Debbie''.

    Unbuckling my seatbelt, I noticed that, as usual, after I spoke, I caused an awkward silence. "What?" I asked at the strange look Kat was giving me, "you know the percentage of teenage pregnancies, and yet you didn''t know, Queen," she said ironically.

    "I read it in a book," I immediately said, "and come on, I mean, there''s a student in our school who''s pregnant. It''s just healthy curiosity," I quickly continued, defending myself against the amused teenager.

    Since Kat had also exited the car this time, I used the passenger seat to allow Bianca and Teddy to exit the back seat before quickly saying goodbye with a hug and parting ways, Teddy taking Kat''s previously used seat and Bianca going home.

    Closing the passenger door, Teddy once again symbolically and literally left the eldest Stratford and me in an awkward silence. "I had a lot of fun," I abruptly broke the silence, making Kat laugh lightly. "Yeah, me too," she said as she walked slowly towards her house, "we can do it again if you want," I said calmly, to which she snorted amusedly, "yeah, sure, better not," Kat ironically said, surprising me.

    "What, why not?" I asked genuinely intrigued, receiving a furrowed brow, "oh come on, PJ," incredulous, Kat said, "for Regina? I''ve told you, I''ll explain the misunderstanding, if there is one, on my own. There won''t be any problem; it''ll just be a normal outing with friends. I could even introduce you to my other friends; you''ll like them," I assured her, "well, you will definitely like Alan immediately. Brock, David, and Georgie might be a bit harder for you to get along with," I continued, once again causing Kat to snort.

    "It''s not a big deal, it''s just that they might initially try to flirt with you, but once you get past that, you''ll understand that they''re amazing people," I said, trying to defend my friends to Kat.

    "I don''t know, I don''t think it''ll be as easy as you make it out to be," Kat said, pressing her lips into a forced smile as she slightly raised her shoulders.

    "At first, no, but when they forget they''re hormonal teenagers, you''ll like them," I said confidently, "I''m not talking about that, PJ. I highly doubt Regina would be thrilled about the idea," Kat explained, denying it amusingly.

    Before I could debate her point, a shout startled us, "YOU? Stay away from my daughter!" from the door of the Stratford''s house, a short, bulky man with a large bald patch on his head stood, surprised, staring at me with incredulity on his face, as if he recognized me from somewhere.

    "Oh, come on, Walter, leave them alone," seemingly out of nowhere, Mrs. Stratford appeared beside her husband, pulling his arm as she gave me a big smile, winking one of her eyes and closing the door behind them.

    "Well, that''s new," I said, trying to prevent the awkward moment from affecting me too much.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Okay, that has to be a sign, see you later, PJ," embarrassed, Kat quickly closed the short distance to her front door, opening it and immediately closing it after entering.

    A sign of what?

    "Sure, see you later, Kat. Goodbye," I said to absolutely no one, once again somehow accustomed to people leaving me mid-conversation. I walked back to ''Debbie'', where Teddy had been waiting for several seconds already.

    I couldn''t help but think about Kat''s concern about Regina''s reaction. I''m sure she would understand, right?

    "Did you have fun?" once inside the car, I asked my sister, who was busy looking at the different discs Kat had made me buy.

    "Yeah, the girls and I went to..." Teddy began narrating what they had done inside the mall, which would fill the whole journey home.

    After parking ''Debbie'' in front of the house, Teddy and I got out of the car, "thanks for taking us, PJ," Teddy quickly bumped her head into my chest, giving me a tight hug.

    "You''re welcome, kiddo," hugging my sister back, I replied.

    "Finally you arrived" from the sidewalk on his bicycle Gabe appeared alongside a few kids.

    "Hey Gabe, what are you doing here?" I asked the kid who was laughing with his friends.

    "Mom dropped me off at the Sparks'' house," Gabe replied, nodding towards the little chicken-boy beside him with his ever-present strange smile. "I''m Billy," he said cheerfully by way of introduction.

    "I know Billy, we''ve been neighbors for over a month, I took care of you and your sister a few weeks ago," I replied to the strange kid, who furrowed his brow slightly as if trying to remember.

    "Okay," I said, seeing the child getting lost in his memories, returning my attention to my brother, definitely, Billy Sparks needs a psychological check-up. "Go tell Mrs. Sparks that I''m here, and thank her by the way," shaking my younger brother''s head, I indicated also nudging the chicken-like kid.

    "That kid needs help," Teddy frowned, looking at the grup of kids walking towards the Sparks'' house.

    "Yeah," I said amused, completely agreeing with Teddy.

    Teddy went inside the house on his own while I waited for Gabe and the long gang of kids following him.

    "Now munchkins, let''s play something," I said as the group of kids returned, making the children cheer happily. I recognized some of the faces of kids I had babysat during my grounding weeks and many others from the last time I had played with them.

    Several minutes after playing various games, one by one the kids started reluctantly saying goodbye before heading home, and fortunately only Gabe and I were left, this time without an extra kid.

    "I thought you got tired of me," Gabe said somewhat embarrassed as we walked home.

    "What, why?" I asked surprised.

    "Yeah, you went out alone with Teddy, although you took her with her friends, I thought you''d want me to come too, you know, to do something," the little kid said, still embarrassed.

    "Oh, gremlin," I shook my head, laughing, "you and I do lots of things together, look right now," pointing at the street, I referred to the whole gaming session we had with the neighborhood kids, "every morning you and I go jogging, and at night we lift weights with dad," I reminded the kid of everything we did together, "I think it''s only fair that I also do things with Teddy occasionally, you should too, she''s your sister too after all," I continued, squeezing the little kid''s head in a sweaty hug.

    Pushing my torso away, Gabe tried to break free from me, "you''re right, but I don''t know what I could do with her, she''s a girl," managing to escape my grip, Gabe added as if it were an obstacle.

    "Yes, she''s a girl," imitating his tone, I nodded jokingly, "I''m pretty sure there''s something you two enjoy doing, I''ll tell you what, how about next weekend the three of us do something together without mom and dad?" it could be a good idea to give the adults a little breathing room.

    "Like what?" interested, Gabe asked.

    "I don''t know, whatever you want, as long as Teddy agrees," opening the door to the house, I said as I gently pushed my brother inside, "go talk to Teddy, and no fighting or the deal''s off," I continued, getting Gabe excited as he ran to Teddy''s room.

    "Knock before entering," I told him, watching as he was about to enter rudely.

    Nodding vigorously, Gabe excitedly knocked on the door before receiving a response and entering Teddy''s room, closing the door behind him.

    Amused by my little brother''s excitement, I headed to the bathroom to clean off all the sweat that playing with hyperactive kids had caused.

    After cleaning up, I returned to my room to study some books I had taken from the hospital library, getting lost in the interesting information while taking notes, I didn''t notice the passage of time until I was called for dinner.

    "Hey mom, how was your day?" I greeted the woman who was sitting at the table.

    "Oh, it was a great day, thank you for asking PJ," the woman replied with a big smile, "I heard your day was possibly better than mine," she added with a strange smile.

    "I''m telling you, it''s the Duncan genes, we''re always heartbreakers," coming out of the kitchen with a big pot in his hands, Bob said proudly.

    Upon hearing the man''s comment, I immediately understood the situation, looking at Teddy, who suddenly found her empty plate fascinating, I shook my head slowly, "she''s a friend, she joined us because her dad has a strange rule about going out with her sister, Teddy''s friend," I quickly explained, pointing at my sister.

    "It''s not true, Bianca''s mom said it was an opportunity for Kat," ignoring her interest in the empty plate, Teddy quickly said with a playful smile.

    "An opportunity for what?" not understanding, Gabe asked.

    "To get PJ," much more amused, Teddy explained.

    "Okay, enough of that, Kat and I are just friends, nothing more," stopping the now shared smiles of my family, I said, "how was your day dad?" following a move from Kat''s playbook, I asked, serving myself spaghetti from the pot to change the subject.

    "Oh, pretty good, there was a bedbug infestation at one of the city''s hotels," the man said cheerfully.

    Early the next morning, like every day, Gabe and I went out for a run. When I returned home after cleaning myself up, I had breakfast peacefully at the kitchen table with my siblings and Bob, who was reading with a big smile on his face a special newspaper. "Everything okay?" I asked as I ate my breakfast.

    "Everything''s perfect," the man said with a big smile, giving a thumbs-up sign that only he and I understood.

    As he had signed as a guardian to have the investment account, he received a report monthly about the state of my portfolio, while every week he religiously read a special newspaper that published the state of certain companies'' stock market.

    When we finished our breakfast, mom, still wrapped in a robe, handed each of us a bag with our lunches inside, giving a kiss on each of her children''s foreheads, also kissing her husband before leaving the kitchen, presumably back to her bed.

    "Who''s going to take us to school?" Gabe asked worriedly as he watched his mom leave the kitchen.

    "Well, now that PJ has a car, he can go to school on his own, and since his mom spends energy for two people, I''ll take you to school," Bob drummed his fingers, saying.

    "Can PJ take me?, it''d be much cooler to ride in his car than in your truck," hopeful, Gabe said, silently supported by Teddy, both ignoring the sudden attack to Bob.

    "I''m sorry, Scrappy, it would take me too far out of my way," killing the child''s hope, I said, shaking my head.

    "Aw, alright, dad''s truck it is," the child said sadly, leaving the kitchen with his backpack, a moment later followed by Teddy.

    "You don''t think my truck is bad, do you, PJ?" hopeful, Bob asked.

    Giving him a pat on the shoulder as an answer, I left the kitchen, after putting my plate next to my siblings'' in the sink, to brush my teeth.

    Saying goodbye to the kids and Bob, I headed out to ''Debbie'' for school.

    I had never realized how slow Bob''s truck could go, despite leaving home basically at the same time every day and still respecting traffic signs, I had arrived much earlier than any other day; the parking lot next to the school only had a few cars parked. At least arriving at this hour would make parking easier; usually, the lot was full.

    Greeting the few people who, like me, had arrived early at school, I reached my locker, allowing me to organize my things for the day with much more silence than I was used to, even allowing me to read a bit about the upcoming topics of some classes.

    A few minutes later, the silence I was enjoying was completely interrupted by the same daily chatter of dozens if not hundreds of teenagers catching up on their weekends.

    I was no exception. "SuperStar," with a punch to my shoulder, Brock appeared at my side, cheerfully greeting. "So, you brought her," suspiciously, my friend leaned in and asked.

    Quickly understanding what he was talking about, I nodded. "She''s in the parking lot," playing along I responded to the now excited teenager.

    "Awesome!" exclaimed Brock. "What''s awesome?" David asked as he approached, greeting us.

    "Debbie is in the parking lot," Brock explained with a big smile.

    "Who''s Debbie, is she hot?" David quickly asked.

    "Yeah, she''s very hot," I quickly affirmed before Brock could remind him that ''Debbie'' is a car.

    "Nice," David nodded slowly with a proud smile as he searched through his locker.

    "Haven''t we already solved this problem?" Brock asked me, puzzled, in a whisper, keeping his gaze fixed on our friend.

    "Yes," I simply replied, amused.

    A few minutes later, Alan arrived, equally calm as every day. It hardly seemed like he had a wild training session the day before, at least in my eyes.

    "Hey," I greeted back my calm friend as he rummaged through his locker, "what''s up?" He asked, without taking his eyes off his open locker, before facing me and tilting his head in curiosity.

    "Oh, nothing," I quickly said, averting my fixed gaze from him; I might have been staring at him strangely since he arrived.

    The last to arrive was Georgie, who, after greeting everyone, began, much to Brock''s and my amusement, along with David, to talk about the possible hot girl I had seen in the parking lot. "Yeah, her name is Debbie," excitedly David said, giving me a weak elbow nudge with a proud grin.

    "Wait, that''s the name of his car," Georgie broke our amusement and the illusion of David, surprisingly remembering that this had already been discussed.

    After Sheldon arrived, we, mainly me, accompanied the kid to the first period. The day continued as usual; at least that was how it seemed until the end of the last period before lunch.

    "Don''t you feel a d¨¦j¨¤ vu?" I said to Alan, seeing people suddenly starting to look at me while whispering things with their friends.

    "Yeah, seems like you''ve done something again," Alan said calmly, not really making a big deal out of it.

    Could it be that everyone already knows?

    "Hey PJ," in one of the hallways, we crossed paths with Kat and one of the two girls I had seen her with before.

    Returning the greeting, Kat discreetly pointed to her friend, smiling slightly proudly. Recognizing immediately the reason behind the proud smile, I smiled back in acknowledgment.

    In the cafeteria, we were sitting in our usual spots, having lunch and discussing weekend plans. Regina and her friends never showed up; surely another cheerleader meeting had taken place.

    However, what did appear in the middle of lunch was my Vietnamese friend. "PJ Duncan, my friend, I saw your car in the parking lot," the boy said with a strange smile, awkwardly attempting to sit next to me. I quickly helped him by taking his tray. "Yeah, that''s where I left it this morning," I replied to the strangely smiling boy, with a hint of sarcasm.

    "You know, I usually use the school bus," Tam quickly said after smiling at everyone at the table, "and I live a few streets from your house; I''m willing to walk the remaining stretch," he continued equally quickly, with a hint of hope in his voice.

    Understanding what the boy was asking discreetly, I assured him, "Sorry, Tam, every day I have to go somewhere before home, and it''s in a completely different direction. Otherwise, of course, I would take you."

    "Really?" apparently also interested in the topic, Georgie asked disappointedly, "darn, I thought you could give me a ride," my friend continued upon receiving a positive response.

    "Tam, what are you doing here?" Behind us, carrying a paper bag, Sheldon asked, puzzled, "our regular table is free," the boy continued, pointing to the table where Tam and Sheldon always had lunch together.

    "Sheldon, sit down and have lunch with us once in a while," I said to the boy, indicating an empty seat.

    Surprisingly, Sheldon seemed to consider the idea for a few seconds, even seeming like he was about to move to take the seat. "No, thanks," he quickly replied, "let''s go," he said to Tam before walking straight to his usual spot.

    After a big sigh and shifting his attention from Sheldon''s completely quiet table to the noisy table where we were, Tam picked up his tray and got up. "Anyway, thanks for considering it, PJ Duncan, my friend," the strange boy said formally.

    "No problem, Tam, and seriously, PJ is just fine," I replied to the boy before he also walked, much less enthusiastically than Sheldon, to his shared table.

    "Weird kid," Alan said on my other side.

    "He''s just very formal," I defended the boy.

    The day passed relatively normally; whatever was spreading through the school during lunch had been fully delivered to each and every student. By the end of the day, I hadn''t seen Regina or her friends in any of the hallways between classes.

    Outside the school, I immediately recognized a luxurious car parked on the main street. With the rear window open, Regina''s annoyed face peered out, staring straight ahead for some reason in the car without moving.

    As I reached the side of the car, I leaned in slightly. "Hi Regina, haven''t seen you all day. Hi, Mrs. George," I said, approaching the window.

    "Hi, PJ!" Mrs. George cheerfully replied with a high-pitched tone.

    "Mom!" Regina suddenly exclaimed, reproaching her mom.

    "Oh, sorry, honey," the woman replied apologetically, quickly turning her body back to face forward.

    "I don''t know what you heard today, but if it''s about Kat, we were just there as friends. Her sister and my sister are friends and wanted to go to the mall, so I took them. Kat''s parents made her come to look after her sister," I explained, waiting for any reaction from the girl.

    Still staring ahead, Regina sighed before rolling up the car window a few seconds before swiftly accelerating out of the school grounds dangerously. "Thanks for understanding and not believing in stupid rumors," I said again to no one.

    Turning to walk to the parking lot, I found a large number of people looking at me while discussing things in whispers with their friends. Somehow, I was facing a small audience.

    Ignoring the still lingering gazes of the people around me, I walked to ''Debbie,'' quickly getting into the car and starting the engine; now even more people were watching me.

    When I was far enough from the school, I let out a sigh I didn''t realize I had been holding since the beginning.

    As in the morning, I arrived surprisingly earlier than usual at the hospital, apparently much earlier than Mom, as I couldn''t see her car parked in the usual spot. After greeting each of the nurses at the hospital reception, I walked towards House''s office.

    "Kid, are you still giving sponge baths and cutting nails, or can you help with something?" House called out loudly from one of the hallways.

    "Ha ha very funny," I chuckled falsely as I approached the doctor, who was standing with Doctor Wilson. "If you two little girls are done catching up, we can go. I have something to show you," House said seriously after Doctor Wilson and I exchanged greetings cordially, walking to one of the hospital wings.

    Maternity wing.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and Not a Doctor.

    Almost 5k words.

    A few things:

    As an incentive for you to visit the auxiliary chapter in the comments, there''s a (very small) spoiler of something I''m preparing for the future (very far in the future). I''m saying this now so that possibly in a few years, I can come back here and read this. I plan to continue writing for a long time, so many thanks to those who are still here supporting my practice (because that''s what this is, practice) for all this 40 chapters.

    That said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thanks for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 41

    In the neonatal intensive care unit, House leaned on his cane near the open door, which revealed at least a dozen incubators containing fragile sick babies. "Exhibit A," he said, pointing to one of the nearest incubators, "baby girl Hartig. Term baby, forty-two hours old. Went into seizures 6 hours ago, brought into intensive care, diagnosed with obstruction of the small bowel."

    "I''m still amazed you''re in the same room with a patient," Dr. Wilson sarcastically joked.

    "Or that you learned her name," I added, reaching for the chart hanging on the baby girl''s incubator.

    "People don''t bug me until they get teeth," House responded to Dr. Wilson. "And sorry, CJ, I promise I''m working on learning your name," he added sarcastically, widening his eyes.

    "Exhibit B," House continued his odd presentation, pointing to another incubator. "Baby boy Hausen. Another term baby, forty-eight hours old. Brought into the NICU before the Hartig baby: fever of unknown origin, 101 degrees, trending upwards."

    I quickly grabbed the chart of the second baby and compared them.

    "Wow, that is amazing," Dr. Wilson said with feigned surprise, moving around the room. "You hung out in the OB/GYN lounge and heard about two sick babies," he said with mock surprise, smiling smugly at House. "It''s eerie," he sarcastically concluded as he approached one of the two incubators, presumably to touch baby Hausen.

    "Don''t touch that," House and I coordinated surprisingly, stopping Dr. Wilson before he could touch the possibly infectious baby.

    "Alright..." Dr. Wilson nodded, taken aback, stepping slightly away from the fragile baby.

    "What''s going on?" Dr. Wilson asked again after a few seconds of silence, looking puzzled.

    "Yeah, what''s going on, kid?" House asked, his strange smile growing, narrowing his eyes.

    "I''m almost certain there''s an infection spreading in the hospital," I said, causing House to smile broadly.

    "No, PJ, the children have totally unrelated illnesses," Dr. Wilson kindly explained.

    "No, they fell ill within four hours of each other," House countered.

    "They were in the same delivery rooms, and the maternity rooms are neighboring," I added, "which makes transmission possible," House immediately affirmed.

    "Okay, this is really cute," Dr. Wilson said amusedly, gesturing towards House and me, "but it doesn''t add up. The Hartig girl has a bowel obstruction," he explained, "no matter how close their beds are, I''m pretty sure kids can''t share a blockage."

    "Look, kid, this is why you shouldn''t trust a doctor''s diagnosis," House sarcastically affirmed. "What does bowel obstruction on a chart indicate?" leaning on his cane, House asked Dr. Wilson.

    "Well, normally, I''d say it indicates a patient''s bowel is obstructed," Dr. Wilson said ironically, "but I''m pretty sure you have some deeper truth to impart..." he continued before being immediately interrupted by House. "It means that some random doctor of indeterminate skill thinks that the patient''s bowel is obstructed."

    "Trying to avoid laughing, ''okay, you''re upset because they threw you out of their lounge,''" Dr. Wilson affirmed.

    "They threw you out of their lounge?" I asked amusedly as House rolled his eyes, moving towards the basket beside one of the baby''s incubators, "no, they didn''t," House immediately denied, taking an X-ray print.

    "Look at the X-ray," House said, handing the print to Dr. Wilson. "It''s a normal gas pattern."

    "You want, I can get you a key to the oncology lounge," Dr. Wilson calmly said to House, "kid, explain to Wilson what that means," ignoring the other doctor''s words, House pointed again to the X-ray print.

    "There''s air in the colon," I responded, immediately understanding House''s request.

    "If it''s air, then no bowel obstruction," House nodded in agreement, causing Dr. Wilson to furrow his brow slightly as he studied the image again.

    "Even if it''s air, it could have been there before the obstruction," Wilson commented, no longer so sure.

    "No," House immediately denied, "something''s infected both these infants."

    "And what do you plan to do?" Dr. Wilson asked, leaving the X-ray print.

    "I''ll go to Cuddy; we need the maternity ward shut down," House said seriously, looking at the babies.

    "Cuddy won''t shut down the maternity ward because..." Dr. Wilson was saying but was interrupted, "I knew it was you," someone practically shouted from the hallway outside the neonatal intensive care unit.

    "Walter, what''s going on?" surprised, Wilson asked the man, taking a step forward to stop the furious man''s rapid walk.

    "He''s what''s going on," the annoyed man pointed at me, repeating himself.

    "Mr. Stratford?" when the man was close enough, I recognized him, "I warn you, kid, no one related to House will get near my daughters," advancing even more before being stopped by a surprised Dr. Wilson, Mr. Stratford declared.

    "Oh, so this is the girl you''ve been telling me about, PJ," House said with a broad smile, "you dog," he continued, putting his hand on my shoulder with exaggerated pride, "if she''s anything like Walter''s wife, I understand why you needed that morning-after pill prescription."

    "What!" much more annoyed, Mr. Stratford exclaimed again.

    "Ignore him, Walter," now actively holding back the small man, Dr. Wilson tried to reason with him, "and you, shut up, House, don''t cause trouble," annoyed with House, Dr. Wilson continued.

    "Mr. Stratford, your daughter and I are just friends," quickly removing House''s hand from my shoulder and moving away from the man, I tried to explain to the furious man with my hands up, strangely trying to demonstrate my innocence.

    "I don''t believe you; I don''t know what you''ve learned from this man, but it can''t be anything good," still being held back by Dr. Wilson, Mr. Stratford pointed at House with disgust, who, pretending to be offended, placed one of his hands on his chest while shaking his head slowly.

    "Okay, that''s enough; we have real doctor work to do," stopping his performance, House said, "Walter, I promise you on my word that PJ is a great kid," seriously, House continued, leaning on his cane, "just let them be teenagers; I know PJ loves her, and he''s willing to take responsibility," he continued maliciously smiling.

    "Shut up," Dr. Wilson and I ordered House simultaneously, who was smiling amusedly.

    "He''s a good kid, Walter; he''s just learning medicine from House," releasing the stout man, Dr. Wilson explained again, trying to reassure the man who still looked upset but much less threatening.

    "Oh sure, let''s trust Wilson''s judgment," House exaggeratedly exclaimed, raising one of his hands, pretending to be offended, "if no one is going to listen to me, it wasn''t a joke that I have real medical work to do; when you''re done here, go to the office, kid," walking proudly alongside the other two doctors, House disappeared from sight.

    "I''m being completely serious, stay away from my daughter

    ," still obviously frustrated, Mr. Stratford said, pointing at me with a furrowed brow before angrily walking back where he came from, leaving Dr. Wilson and me alone in the hallway.

    "Kat or Bianca?" Dr. Wilson discreetly asked.

    "You know his daughters?" surprised, I asked.

    "When Walter Stratford started working at the hospital, he invited a few of us to dinner at his house," Dr. Wilson explained calmly, "unfortunately, he also invited House," he finished ironically.

    "Well, neither of them, it wasn''t a lie, Kat and I are just friends," I quickly explained.

    Sighing softly as he shook his head, "House wasn''t wrong; Melinda Stratford is a beautiful woman," Dr. Wilson affirmed suggestively, before he could deny the accusation again, Dr. Wilson''s pager alerted him, "I have to go, but good luck, PJ," lightly tapping my shoulder, Dr. Wilson said before quickly walking away.

    "She''s just a friend," I managed to say to the doctor before he disappeared completely, waving his hand in farewell as he walked.

    With a faint but growing migraine, I stood incredulous at the happenings in front of the neonatal intensive care unit. A moment later, the cry of one of the babies reminded me of what was going on. I had some books that I needed to return to the hospital library before heading to the diagnostic lounge.

    After a brief moment speaking with the librarian, Neil, I walked with a much lighter backpack to the diagnostic lounge.

    Inside the office with glass walls, the three other doctors who worked alongside House were each doing their own thing. Dr. Foreman was studying a series of X-ray images, Cameron was standing reading some documents, while Chase was peacefully sleeping in one of the chairs.

    Silently greeting Cameron, the only one of the three present doctors who noticed my presence, I took a seat in one of the free chairs to wait for House.

    A few minutes later, House entered his office, taking a large red book from one of the shelves at the entrance and then throwing the book at Chase, immediately waking him up. "Get up!" he exclaimed, walking to the center of the room. "We''re going hunting," House continued, amused.

    "For what?" exasperated, Dr. Foreman asked.

    "Wabbits," House immediately responded sarcastically.

    "Wabbits," slowly shaking his head, annoyed, Dr. Foreman repeated.

    "You''re not funny," House sighed with false defeat. "Explain, kid," leaning on his cane, House ordered.

    "We believe there''s an infection spreading among the newborns," I explained.

    "No," House immediately said, "you believe it, I know it for a fact, and therefore, all of us will look for evidence so that Dr. Cuddy accepts that there is an infection spreading to the beautiful newborns," House finished with great sarcasm, leaving no room for the other three doctors to argue.

    "Let''s split up," House ordered. "Chase with Cameron, the kid with Foreman, and with me," he finished.

    "So we''re going to search for an imaginary infection just because you and the kid think it exists?" annoyed, Foreman asked, mocking House.

    "Yes," shamelessly House responded immediately, "so, we''re looking for newborns, possibly just a few hours old, fever of unknown origin, seizures, cough with sputum," ignoring Dr. Foreman, House continued listing each symptom. "I thought I was just teaching the kid, do they really need me to explain how to differentiate between a healthy newborn and one that isn''t?" House asked ironically.

    Without responding, the three defeated doctors prepared to leave.

    "Come on, kid, let''s go find some Wabbits," walking beside me, House said, seeming excited.

    After searching several rooms with perfectly healthy newborns, House, Dr. Foreman, and I stopped in front of the maternity nurses'' desk. "I''m telling you, House, there''s no infection spreading in the hospital," Foreman said tiredly.

    "Good news, no epidemic," appearing suddenly in one of the hallways of the wing, Dr. Chase assured as he walked alongside Cameron.

    "Tragic, huh?" Foreman sarcastically asked, staring fixedly at House, exasperated.

    House seemed somewhat annoyed, staring down one of the hallways. "Overflow rooms, third floor," he said immediately, breaking away from the desk and walking toward one of the elevators.

    "This imaginary infection has spread to the next floor?" Foreman asked sarcastically, mocking House, receiving no response from the cane-bearing doctor.

    Following House to the elevator, we went up to the third floor. "Is there any chance we''re wrong?" I asked the man as we walked to one of the rooms. "Sure, but it''s more interesting if we''re not," House replied in his usual sarcasm, jokingly pushing open the door to the first room to enter.

    Inside the room, a small family with a newborn baby in their arms, obviously worried, was studying the baby. "We were just going to call," one of the two women in the room immediately commented.

    "Did he get hot all of a sudden?" House asked seriously, approaching the baby and gently touching his forehead to feel his temperature.

    "Yeah," the same worried woman replied.

    "And we''re on," carefully leaving the baby in the arms of one of the women, House quickly left the room.

    "Someone will come with you shortly," reassuring the two puzzled women in the room, I followed House out of the room.

    "Go get your siblings," jokingly, House instructed me, "we have an infection to figure out," he continued seriously, walking down one of the hallways.

    Heading back down in the elevator, I met the three doctors having a conversation in front of the nurses'' station. "So, did House finally give up?" Cameron asked when she approached them.

    "No, in fact, we found another patient; House sent me to brief you," I immediately responded, causing all three doctors to close their eyes in disappointment. "We have a real infection spreading through the hospital," defeated, Dr. Foreman said, walking out of the wing followed by Cameron and Chase, equally defeated.

    "Hey, Brenda," approaching the desk, I greeted the nurse on duty.

    "Oh honey, how are you?" the woman asked cheerfully, "are you here for your volunteer work?" she continued, quickly searching through papers on her desk, probably for some patient who needed a nail trim or a sponge bath.

    "I''m good, thanks, and for now, I won''t continue with my volunteering," I explained immediately, fortunately stopping the nurse in her document search.

    "Oh, that''s too bad. In all my years, you''ve been the best volunteer. You learned incredibly fast everything that needed to be learned," the woman said sympathetically.

    "Yeah, I know, I learned a lot," trying to hide the forced nature of my smile, I replied, "sorry, do you know if my mom has arrived yet?" I quickly changed the subject.

    "Don''t you know?" surprised, the woman asked, "I''m sixteen already, I came on my own," I explained to the nurse.

    "Oh honey, you''re a grown up now," the nurse said with excitement, "let me check," resuming our previous conversation, she picked up her phone, presumably calling the desk where mom would be working.

    "Yeah, your mom arrived several minutes ago. Do you need me to pass on a message?" removing the phone from her ear and covering the microphone with her hand, the woman asked.

    "No, it''s okay, I''ll talk to her later. Thanks, Brenda," I said as a farewell, getting ready to go to the diagnostic lounge. "You''re welcome, sugar," the woman replied with a big smile before continuing her phone call.

    In the office with glass walls, the three doctors under House''s command were discussing while sitting around the table.

    Foreman, upon my arrival, began with an obviously fake cough that he repeated loudly a couple of times, even elbowing Chase lightly to get his attention but failing.

    "If you want to know something, you can ask," I said, assuming the reason behind his strange behavior.

    "He''s got you there," smirking, Chase said.

    "What do we know?" after rolling his eyes forcibly at Chase and giving him a slightly stronger elbow jab, Foreman asked, avoiding eye contact and keeping his eyes on some document previously on the table.

    "As far as I know, three sick newborns, cough with sputum, spiking fevers, BP''s plummeting, coming from two delivery rooms, three different maternity rooms, and I don''t know if there are any common personnel or common equipment related," I explained to the three present doctors. "Oh, one of the babies was diagnosed with a bowel obstruction by some radiologist. House doesn''t trust that diagnosis," I continued, making Chase and Dr. Foreman snort unsurprised.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "I don''t trust whoever made the diagnosis," entering along with Dr. Cuddy into the office, House said, dropping a bunch of papers on the table, allowing the other three doctors at the table to quickly lean in to take them.

    "Three sick babies, and a fourth showing early symptoms," writing on the board, House said.

    "How bad?" obviously concerned, Dr. Cuddy asked seriously.

    "Spiking fevers," reading one of the charts, Chase said, "BP''s plummeting," Dr. Foreman continued, "they''re barely able to keep systolic up; at this rate, they''ll be dead in a day," Dr. Foreman said completely serious, looking at the other charts.

    "Where did this come from?"

    "Two delivery rooms, four different maternity rooms, no common personnel, and no common equipment," Cameron immediately responded.

    "Well, there''s gotta be something in common," with growing desperation, Dr. Cuddy told House.

    "Yeah," sarcastically, House affirmed, "that would be the difference between an epidemic and a coincidence," he continued with a smirk.

    Ignoring House, apparently with a growing migraine, Dr. Cuddy shook her head while rubbing her forehead, "I''m putting a team together," she asserted, "we''re going to start swabbing," defeated, Dr. Cuddy left the office.

    "Dr. Cuddy," following the concerned woman out of the office, I called out to her, stopping her in the hallway.

    "Yes, PJ?" urging me to respond quickly, the woman asked.

    "You know my mom is pregnant..." I was saying, but the doctor interrupted me, "yeah, don''t worry, I''ll send any vulnerable person home," she replied without stopping.

    Back in the office, the three doctors were turned towards House. "Thanks for coming back. Now that the kid is here, we can start. Differential diagnosis, people," House ordered with a marker in his hand.

    "Parasite," Dr. Foreman immediately said, causing House to write it on the board.

    "Spreading too quickly," Cameron disagreed, and House crossed out the word he had just written.

    "Virus?" Chase asked, making House write on the board again.

    "No lymphocytosis in the blood tests," I disagreed, remembering the data from the charts.

    "And they''re not responding to a cycle of avirarapovirin," Dr. Foreman added, "if it''s some other virus, we''ll never find it in time anyway," nodding at Dr. Foreman''s reasons, House added a question mark next to the word.

    "Bacterial infection," I said as a last possibility. House pointed his marker at me, nodding before writing it on the board. "It''s not responding to broad-spectrum antibiotics, so we''ve got something resistant," as he wrote on the board, House said seriously, "the usual suspects."

    "MRSA," Dr. Foreman immediately said, "it''s always MRSA in hospitals," House nodded, writing on the board.

    "Maybe a contaminated food or water source?" uncertainly, Cameron said, "Pseudomonas," she continued, and House nodded slightly before writing on the board.

    "VRE?" Chase asked, unsure, and House also wrote it down.

    "H. Flu," I added, "okay, those are the big ones," House wrote it down as well, "cultures will take forty-eight hours, might as well be post-mortem," ironically, House commented, "we''ll start them on Vancomycin for the MRSA and Aztreonam for the rest," closing the possible infections, House ordered, "let''s get MRIs, check for abscesses or some occult infection," House continued, pointing at me, House said, "grab us if you find something important," walking to the door of the office, House continued, "or unimportant," ending by leaving the office.

    Bidding farewell with a silent nod from the three doctors, I left the office behind House.

    "So, Walter''s daughter," walking through the hospital corridors, House with a smirk said suggestively.

    "No, we''re just friends," I responded exasperatedly to the annoying man, who simply narrowed his eyes, examining me.

    "Let''s say I believe you. Walter isn''t the first one to accuse you of doing his daughter," House said amusedly, studying my expression, surely finding what he was looking for. "So, who, do you have a girlfriend?" the man asked sarcastically.

    "Yeah," after a few seconds of internal debate, I replied to House, "by chance, Kat and I were alone for a few hours at the mall, but it was just as friends," I explained to the man, feeling foolishly confident talking to House about my life.

    Snorting, House shook his head, "how did she take it?" House asked interestedly.

    "Who?" I asked.

    "The queen," House immediately responded ironically, "the hormonal teenager blind enough to go out with you," the man corrected himself sarcastically.

    "Well, I don''t know, she didn''t want to talk to me," ignoring the man''s joke, I replied.

    Narrowing his eyes, House stopped for a moment. "Is she a cheerleader?" he asked, receiving an affirmation from me. "Popular, eye-catching, possibly blonde, during lunch, she possibly sits in the center of the cafeteria," House began listing things, "she has at least two friends who always accompany her, she obviously stands in the middle when they walk down the hallways, and it seems like people instinctively move out of her way?" leaning on his cane, House asked with a smirk.

    "How is it possible that you know that?" I asked amazed by the man''s deduction.

    Starting to walk again, "you''re athletic, unpleasantly kind, much taller than average, and obviously, you have good grades," calmly House affirmed as he walked, "but you''re basically socially inept," raising his cane sarcastically, House continued, "which is basically the perfect mix for someone with attention-seeking behavior and a highly inflated self-esteem," smirking, House continued.

    Before I could say anything, House continued, "the strange thing here is that she didn''t confront you publicly," furrowing his brows, House said, "which leads me to think two things: either she needs time to maximize the situation, she''ll start with rumors slowly spreading throughout the school, she''ll let herself be seen crying by some people, and before you know it, the whole school will know that you and she broke up and that you''re an ass and she''s a victim," smirking, House asserted.

    "Oh yeah? Can you tell me the lottery numbers for that day?" I sarcastically asked.

    "That or she cheated on you and thinks you found out, so she needs to avoid you to buy time thus avoiding you causing a public confrontation, doing the above before you do," ignoring my question, House continued.

    "Yeah right, or she''s just upset and needs to clear things up," annoyed, I replied.

    "I hope your social idiocy doesn''t infect your diagnostic ability," with feigned concern, House said, "the last thing I need is for you to mistake a cold for prostate cancer," House continued.

    "Ha ha, ironic coming from you," I responded, pointing at the man.

    Feigning offense, House stopped for a moment, "if you''re so sure, you won''t mind putting money on it," changing his expression, House said with a satisfied smile, entering the clinic.

    "Yeah sure, I''m going to bet that my girlfriend isn''t an opportunist, you don''t even know her," annoyed, I said.

    "You''re right, I don''t know her," with a conflicted expression, House said, "then it''s better for you, you have no problem with it, fifty?" he continued after pretending to think for a few seconds with a challenging look, staring me in the eyes.

    "Fine," I said after a few seconds, making House smile widely.

    "Just don''t cry when you find out I''m right," sarcastically, House said, walking to his usual office, "go to your other girlfriend and have the first patient come in," pointing to the nurses'' station, House ordered, entering the office.

    "PJ, how are you?" cheerfully, Nurse Fryday asked.

    "I''m good, how about you, Fryday, and how''s James?" I asked kindly, remembering a past conversation with her about her son, taking a chart from the stack.

    "Oh, you''re so kind, PJ. James is much better, as you said, it was just a cold," warmly, the woman said, "I heard about the maternity ward," leaning over the desk, the nurse made sure no one could hear her, "it''s good that they sent your mom home. Is it very serious?" she whispered, continuing.

    "Yeah, I''m glad mom went home too. For now, It''s only infecting newborn babies; we still don''t know much," I reassured the concerned woman.

    "Oh my God, poor little things," with sadness, the nurse said, "well, I''m sure if anyone can figure it out, it''s you guys," hopefully, she continued.

    "I hope so," tapping the chart lightly in my hand, I thanked the woman before calling in the first patient.

    A man who obviously had a cold.

    Following our usual procedure, House remained seated in his chair, ''watching'' as I did what should have been his job with the obvious cases of colds, then if he agreed with my diagnosis, he took care of prescribing the necessary medication, and I would have to take the papers to the nurses to call in the next patient.

    After several ''type one'' patients, House had me call in another patient, "Jill Valentine," I said in front of the chairs filled with people waiting for their turn, causing a woman to stand up immediately; she seemed to have pain in her feet from her way of walking. "Yes," relieved, she said.

    "Dr. House will see you now," pointing to the office, I nodded at the woman.

    Entering the office behind the woman, I indicated for her to sit on the bed in the center of the room, "this is Doctor House," introducing the doctor, "Doctor House, this is Mrs. Valentine," handing the chart to House, I presented the woman.

    "Mrs. Valentine, what''s the reason for your visit today?" obviously tired, House asked apathetically.

    "My joints have been feeling all loose, and lately, I''ve been feeling sick a lot," the woman explained, pregnancy? "

    maybe I''m overtraining; I''m doing the marathon, like ten miles a day, but I can''t seem to lose any weight," the woman continued.

    "Lift up your arms," from his chair, House asked, obviously suspecting a pregnancy as well.

    On her left arm, the woman had a birth control implant scar, also noticing the scar, House reluctantly stood up, "you have a parasite," sarcastically, House assured.

    "Like a tapeworm or something?" worriedly, the woman asked, still keeping her hands up.

    "Lie back and lift up your sweater," House ordered, the woman followed House''s directions, lying back while keeping her arms up, "you can put your arms down," House continued, making the woman follow his instruction, lifting her sweater to show her abdomen.

    "Can you do anything about it?" obviously worried, the woman asked.

    "Only in some special cases and during the first four or five weeks," preparing the portable ultrasound, House sarcastically replied, "after that, it becomes illegal to remove, except in a couple of states," House continued, using the ultrasound on the woman''s abdomen.

    "Illegal?" surprised, the woman asked.

    "Don''t worry," House said, "many women learn to embrace this parasite," he continued, "they name it, dress it up in tiny clothes, arrange playdates with other parasites."

    "Playdates..." not understanding, the woman murmured.

    "You''re pregnant," surprised that the woman didn''t understand, I clarified, surprising the woman.

    "It has your eyes," House added ironically, turning the ultrasound screen.

    "But that''s impossible," the incredulous woman said as she stared at the screen.

    "Well, I assume you weren''t getting your period," House sarcastically said. "Maybe that should have given you an inkling."

    "But I''m on this birth control implant," the woman argued, still incredulous.

    "Yeah, I know," House said, writing on the chart. "We saw the scar on your arm," he explained to the puzzled woman.

    "My doctor said I might not get any periods at all if it was working," the woman quickly tried to excuse herself.

    "Mm-hmm," House murmured, still writing on the chart. "Interestingly enough, you also don''t get any periods if it isn''t working, which is why you were supposed to get regular pregnancy tests," he commented sarcastically, not noticing the remorseful expression on the woman''s face. "I''m going to send a nurse in here to schedule your prenatal care," House said wearily. "You''re due in about five months, so start planning the shower," he continued, causing the woman to pale.

    "Um, Doctor?" the woman said, embarrassed, catching House''s attention. "My husband and I wanted to have a kid soon, but oh God," the woman began, completely embarrassed, "like four months ago we had this really big fight," she continued, much more embarrassed, House and I obviously understanding where the conversation was going. "He moved out, and I did something stupid," the woman explained quickly.

    "One-night stand?" House asked the woman, giving me a smirk.

    "Ex-boyfriend," the embarrassed woman admitted.

    "I''ll schedule you a paternity test, too," House wrote on the chart.

    "I can''t let my husband know," the worried woman said.

    "Does the old boyfriend look like your husband?" House asked.

    "Yeah..." after thinking for a few seconds, the woman responded, shrugging slightly.

    "Then just have the kid," House said calmly. "He''ll never know," he assured the woman. "The most successful marriages are based on lies," House said ironically to the woman. "You''re off to a great start," House said, taking the chart and leaving the office.

    A brief awkward moment ensued in the few seconds that the woman, who seemed on the verge of tears, and I were alone in the office. "The nurse will be here in a moment," I said, quickly excusing myself from the increasingly tearful patient.

    Outside the office, House had finished giving orders to the present nurse. "Come on, kid, your siblings have things to tell us," he said, walking out of the clinic.

    Bidding farewell to the nurses present in the clinic, I quickly followed House through the hospital corridors.

    Inside his office, the other three doctors under House''s command were sitting, sharing equally troubled expressions.

    "Well, you look cheery," House said sarcastically, walking to his chair. "What¡¯s going on?" he asked seriously.

    "The Hartig and Chen-Lupino babies," Cameron said sadly. "Their kidneys are shutting down."

    "And the urine test shows no casts," Chase added.

    "Which means the antibiotics are causing the kidney failure."

    "You''re the nephrologist," Foreman said. "Which one did it? We''ll take ''em off that one," he continued, after a few short seconds without receiving a response. "Don''t tell me both Vancomycin and Aztreonam can..." Foreman was asking.

    "They both can cause this," Chase interrupted him. "There''s no way to know which one it is."

    "No test," I added, annoyed. I could only think of one way to be sure which medication was working.

    "We can''t take them off the antibiotics," Foreman objected. "They''ll die of the infection."

    "If we leave them on both the antibiotics, they''ll die of kidney failure," Cameron argued sadly.

    "So, we take our best guess, then," Chase resolved. "Which drug''s causing the kidney failure?"

    "It¡¯s like I said, it¡¯s always MRSA in hospitals," Foreman immediately responded. "Take ''em off Aztreonam," he voted.

    "I still think it¡¯s the Pseudomonas," Cameron said. "I vote to take them off the Vancomycin."

    Throughout the discussion, House, very unlike his usual behavior, only watched the doctors discuss with seriousness on his face. "There''s no point in guessing," House declared after closing his eyes for a brief moment.

    "No, House," I said immediately, deducing what he was about to order next.

    "Take one kid off Vancomycin and the other off Aztreonam," he ordered the doctors, ignoring me.

    "They have the same disease; you want to give them different treatment?" Chase asked incredulously.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Foreman asked, annoyed.

    "Therapeutic trial to find the cause of the infection," House responded sarcastically.

    "You can''t do this," I said more annoyed to House.

    "It''s wrong," Foreman added.

    "We have four sick kids, at least," House said. "Who knows how many more haven¡¯t started showing symptoms yet?"

    "We have a duty to these two!" Foreman exclaimed.

    "If these two have different reactions, we know how to save the rest," House declared harshly.

    "You can''t gamble on a baby''s life," tears filled my eyes with fury. I had lost lives many times in my work as a paramedic, but this was much worse.

    "So you¡¯re condemning one of these kids to die based on random chance," equally upset, Foreman said.

    "I guess I am," House nodded seriously. "And kid, this is the job. Deal with it or go home and hug a teddy bear," he said irritably before walking out of the office.

    "Where are you going?" Chase asked the man.

    "I''m going to Mommy," House sarcastically responded, leaving the office.

    "He can''t do this, can he?" I worriedly asked the doctors still in the office.

    "It''s House," Foreman, still annoyed, said, and that was enough of an answer.

    "I don''t like this," Cameron said sadly.

    "House is right; it''s the best way to ensure the lives of the other babies for now," Chase argued.

    "There must be an ethics issue with this," I said.

    "Oh, there definitely is," Foreman monotone said. "But it''s House; by now, you should know him," he continued ironically.

    With Foreman ending the discussion, the office fell silent. I could feel increasing pressure in my chest, and I couldn''t stop thinking about my soon-to-be-born brother or sister. There had to be something we could do.

    Standing up abruptly, I walked to the board. "We missed something," I said annoyed. "Are we sure it can''t be a parasite because of the transmission speed?" I said, and the doctors slowly nodded.

    "PJ..." Cameron said as she stood up calmly with a small friendly smile.

    "We also said it''s not a virus because we didn''t find lymphocytosis in the blood test," I quickly said, ignoring Cameron. "PJ, mate," Chase said equally calmly, standing up, "but how about a virus that affects locally to an organ?" I said hopefully but also a bit desperate, making Cameron slowly shake her head.

    "Maybe we could..." I was saying, but I was interrupted.

    "We wouldn''t know until the autopsy," Foreman calmly said. "I''m sorry; we didn''t miss anything; we just don''t have a way forward for now. I''m truly sorry, PJ," surprisingly kinder than his usual demeanor toward me, Foreman said.

    "But..." I tried to make another argument, but Cameron, now beside me, stopped me by putting her hand on my shoulder. "It''s okay, PJ; we''ve done everything we can for now; there''s no other way."

    Unable to help it, a few tears escaped my eyes. It was happening again; I was unable to save a life. Feeling my legs weak, I sat down on one of the free chairs, covering my face and allowing myself to cry while Cameron stood by my side, along with her fellow doctors, completely silent, possibly just as conflicted as I was.

    A few minutes later, with dry eyes, we welcomed House back to his office with a stoic expression. "Foreman, with the Hartigs, follow your theory, take her off the Aztreonam," House ordered. "Cameron, the Chan-Lupinos, take him off Vancomycin," he continued seriously.

    After a long sigh, Foreman and Cameron left the office, followed by Chase, who also left the office with a downcast expression.

    "You have to learn, PJ; sometimes we have to make horrible decisions to save at least one life. That has to be the main job of a doctor," leaning on his cane while still seated in his chair, House said seriously.

    Without responding to the man, I quickly followed the doctors out.

    In the maternity wing waiting room, at the reception desk, Dr. Wilson was working on some papers while watching Cameron talk to the mothers of some of the babies. Approaching the man after a brief greeting, I nodded my head and accompanied him to watch the news delivery. "Does it ever get easier?" I asked, feeling the knot in my throat again.

    "No," Dr. Wilson immediately responded. "But you learn to carry it."

    The women strangely seemed relieved as they spoke with Cameron in front of them, which only made me feel ashamed of my behavior in House''s office. To add salt to the wound, a small teddy bear was within reach of the two women, now hugging each other in relief. Wait.

    Cameron seemed to have finished talking to the two women as she walked towards where Dr. Wilson and I were talking. "What did you tell them?" Dr. Wilson asked the woman, annoyed.

    Unable to hear Cameron''s response, I quickly approached the relieved women on the couch. "Hello, excuse me, where did you buy the teddy bear?" I asked politely, trying to hide my sudden anxiety. "Oh, hi, a kind lady gave it to us when our baby was born; she has a cart full of them," one of the two women with tears of happiness in her eyes responded.

    Without saying anything else, I quickly moved away from the women to where Dr. Wilson and Cameron were looking at me strangely. "PJ, what..." Dr. Wilson was asking, but it was my turn to interrupt. "Where is Foreman with the other family?" I asked anxiously. "What?" Cameron asked, puzzled. "Foreman," much more rudely than I would have liked, I immediately replied to her, catching her off guard.

    "There," pointing to one of the hallways, Cameron said, and before they could ask why I was behaving like that again, I ran off.

    In front of a fountain and a glass wall, Dr. Foreman was talking to another couple. It seemed that Foreman had been direct with them because unlike Cameron''s couple, they seemed defeated and about to cry.

    Searching in their arms and around, I couldn''t see a teddy bear. Foreman noticed my presence and my strange behavior, furrowing his brow.

    Ignoring Foreman''s doubt, I quickly approached the sad couple. "Did you receive a teddy bear when your baby was born?" I asked without beating around the bush, surprising the couple and Dr. Foreman.

    "Who are you?" the incredulous sad man asked.

    "I''m sorry; he''s not supposed to be here," emphasizing the last part, Dr. Foreman quickly tried to guide me out of the place.

    "When your baby was born, did you receive a teddy bear?" I asked again seriously, dodging Foreman.

    "Yes, is this important?" the incredulous sad man with a growing frown asked Foreman. "No, it''s not, sorry," Foreman immediately responded to the man, changing his expression when he faced me, obviously angry.

    I didn''t need more; I quickly moved away from the place again to House''s office.

    Inside the office, Dr. Wilson, Cameron, and Chase were sitting, apparently discussing something. "They think you''ve gone mad," House said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair as soon as I entered his office. "What did you find, kid?" he asked with a smirk, leaning forward.

    "Common equipment," I said, making House widen his smile even more. "Teddy bear," I said.

    A moment later, Foreman arrived behind me, agitated and obviously angry. "I won''t allow you to talk to the patients'' families again; what the hell were you thinking coming in like that with a couple terrified? House, you have to control this kid!" Foreman practically shouted, pointing at me.

    "Foreman, PJ found something," once again today, Dr. Wilson quickly intervened between an adult doctor trying to harm me. "What?" surprised, Foreman stopped, frowning at me.

    "The Hartigs and the Chen-Lupino babies had a teddy bear at some point when they were born; I bet the other babies did too," I continued quickly, making all the doctors frown in thought.

    "They weren''t Wabbits," I joked to House. "It''s bear season."

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and Not a Doctor.

    I''m man enough to admit that a stray tear escaped from my eyes in the final stretch of the chapter.

    And I know, I know, cliffhanger, don''t hate me.

    That being said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    PS2: Possibly this chapter has more errors than usual. I have to leave my house quickly and I don''t have time to read the edited chapter. If you find any annoying errors, I ask you to ignore them for a few hours because I won''t be able to correct them.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 42

    "Is this some kind of joke?" Obviously annoyed, Dr. Foreman asked.

    "Yeah," with false incredulity on his face, House sarcastically said, "I thought that was clear to everyone." Looking at the other people in the room, House continued, "Are you okay, Foreman?" he asked with false concern.

    Ignoring House, Dr. Foreman tightly closed his eyes, sighing for a few seconds before forcibly walking to one of the empty chairs to sit down, annoyed, crossing his arms.

    "So what are we going to do about it?" Clearly uncomfortable with the situation, Cameron asked, shifting her attention from Dr. Foreman to Dr. House.

    "We need to ensure the child''s theory is correct immediately and find out what infected the babies," House said calmly.

    "What about the antibiotics?" Cameron asked, worried.

    "We need to move fast," I said, knowing we couldn''t stop House''s plan. "We now have the source of the infection. We need to culture it. Let''s start with MRSA and Pseudomonas," I offered.

    Standing up while slightly snorting, "You heard the kid, go bear hunting," House ordered, mobilizing the other doctors.

    Before leaving the office, Chase amusedly stopped for a moment to bid me farewell with an exaggerated military salute.

    "Let''s go," House nodded his head, ordering me out of his office. "That was funny, but you''ll need many more years to take control of my department," House continued sarcastically as we walked to the maternity wing.

    "Just give me a few months," I replied to him with a small smirk.

    "Yeah, sure," House nodded ironically. "A few months you''ll need to learn not to cry when making tough medical decisions," House asserted haughtily.

    Accepting my defeat, I accompanied House to the maternity wing.

    "I''m looking for a woman," leaning on the nurses'' station desk, House said with an exaggerated smile to Nurse Brenda, who, taken aback, immediately had an unpleasant expression as she leaned back in her chair, moving away from House. "Oh, don''t flatter yourself. The woman I''m looking for is an older woman, a volunteer, loves babies, and gives away stuffed animals," House continued sarcastically.

    "Just your type," I quickly said to House.

    "No, I prefer blondes, pregnant, and with the most annoying voice possible," House responded ironically immediately.

    "I think it might be Elizabeth. We have many older female volunteers, but only she brings stuffed animals to give away. She was one of those who went home when they started removing vulnerable people from the maternity wing," stopping our little quarrel, the nurse said, "very kind woman, her husband passed away a few years ago, and-" the nurse was saying until she was interrupted, "yes, yes, the husband dies, the children don''t visit her, and therefore she fills that void by coming to the hospital to see the adorable newborn babies," exasperatedly House monologued.

    "Brenda, we just need to know where-" I was trying to say.

    "Where does she hide her secret stash?" House interrupted me, asking the woman seriously, theatrically hitting the desk, narrowing his eyes accusatorily.

    "Her secret stash?" The concerned woman asked.

    "The stuffed animals," I immediately clarified, causing House to move away from the desk with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, come on, just when I thought you were fun," House said falsely disappointed.

    "I''m sorry, honey, but she takes the stuffed animals with her. You know volunteers don''t really have a place to store things," Brenda kindly said, shaking her head.

    "Brenda, do you have any way-" I was trying to say.

    "What are you two doing here again?" from one of the hallways of the maternity wing, Mr. Stratford''s annoyed voice interrupted me.

    "Stratford, don''t you have a pregnant woman to deworm?" House sarcastically asked the man.

    "And you don''t have a-" in an attempt to respond to House, Mr. Stratford said, running out of ideas, obviously frustrated.

    "Good one," House responded ironically to the other doctor, making him shut up. "We have to work with what we have," ignoring the embarrassed Mr. Stratford, House instructed me before walking out of the wing again.

    "Thanks, Brenda," as a goodbye, I said to the nurse, who kindly bid farewell back, "Mr. Stratford," avoiding the man''s gaze, I quickly walked past him, following House out of the wing.

    Following House through the hospital corridors, we arrived at the labs where only two of the three doctors under House were working, focused on the microscopes in front of them. "Where''s Cameron?" breaking the concentration of Dr. Foreman and Chase, House asked.

    "She ruled out Pseudomonas in the stuffed animals," pointing to various bags with teddy bears in front of them, Dr. Foreman replied.

    "So the two babies are now off Aztreonam," House said, receiving a nod from Dr. Foreman, "so MRSA?" House asked Dr. Foreman, who shrugged, replying, "I''m waiting."

    "There are a lot of things here, House," Chase said, shaking his head, "we''ll never know what infected them."

    "What''s the difference between these two sick babies and the ones who aren''t?" House asked.

    "They all received stuffed animals from the same woman," Chase recalled.

    "Their immune systems are worse," Dr. Foreman said.

    "Yes, but there''s a much more important piece of information than that," House said ironically. "Where did the babies come from?" he continued sarcastically.

    "We had already ruled that out; they are from different delivery rooms," Cameron said, entering through the door with a frustrated expression on her face.

    "No, not that," House immediately denied. "They came from different orifices; they have their mothers'' blood, and therefore, their antibodies too."

    "Cross-referencing the antibodies of the sick and healthy babies?" Chase asked, concerned.

    "That would take days; we would have to search through an immense amount of things," Foreman dismissed the idea, shaking his head.

    "No, that''s why the mothers'' antibodies are important. We look for what antibodies the mothers have, and with that, we''ll know what the babies are protected against and what they''re not," I theorized.

    Pointing one of his fingers at me while nodding, "Cuddy has an army of students; use them," House ordered, prompting the three doctors to get moving. "Wait, Cameron," House said, stopping the doctor.

    "What?" Cameron asked, pressing her lips together.

    "Two theories for your long face: the Chen-Lupinos yelled at you for taking their baby off antibiotics, or¡ª" House was saying, but Cameron interrupted, "I was about to kill their baby."

    "That," House affirmed.

    "If it hadn''t been for PJ and his discovery, I would have killed their baby," Cameron affirmed again, clenching her jaw, apparently trying to hold back tears.

    "You''re setting a bad example for the kid," House said sarcastically. "We''re doctors, Cameron, we stick with our diagnoses until something makes us change our minds. Your theory was just as good as Foreman''s until it wasn''t," House said seriously before leaving the laboratory.

    "He''s right," wiping her eyes and sniffing, Cameron said when House disappeared from view. "But, anyway, I want to thank you, PJ."

    Not knowing what to say, I stayed by the sad doctor''s side. "You don''t have to say anything, just thanks," apparently understanding my silence, Cameron said again, smiling slightly before also leaving the laboratory.

    On the laboratory tables, the small stuffed bears in separate sterile bags were leaning against each other, looking as harmless as they should be.

    Taking my attention away from the stuffed animals, I also left the laboratory, walking towards House''s office. Passing by one of the hospital windows, surprisingly, I found darkness that would only be possible if...

    Checking my watch, I hurried much faster to the office because, due to everything that happened during the day, I was delayed much more than usual leaving.

    In House''s office, there was no one; House''s backpack, which was usually hung on the side of his bookshelf, was also nowhere to be found. The man had probably left immediately.

    After gathering all my things, I left the hospital, hoping that the doctors, along with the students, could discover whatever was affecting the babies.

    Upon arriving home after parking my car, I entered to find mom and Bob sitting together on the couch, although it would be more accurate to say that mom was practically on Bob''s side, seemingly completely worried.

    "Sorry for being late¡ª" I was saying, but mom quickly got up from the couch, interrupting me, "how are the babies?" she asked, surprisingly anxious.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "Oh, fine," surprised by the sudden question, I responded, "we found out that the babies had stuffed animals from the same place, and they are currently running tests to find out what they''re infected with," I continued.

    "Oh, thank God, I was so worried about that," relieved, mom sighed before sitting back down, practically on top of Bob, who had an unreadable expression while staring at me.

    "Yeah, so, as I was saying, sorry I arrived so late; the case captured all my attention," I said, not really knowing if I should apologize.

    "Oh, don''t worry about it, PJ, as long as you drive safely, it''s all okay," leaning on Bob''s shoulder, mom said without giving it much importance.

    "Okay," leaving the couple alone, puzzled, I said goodbye as I walked to my room, ignoring a strange look of distress from Bob.

    In my room, Gabe was on his own bed practicing with one of his guitars. "Hey, kiddo," I greeted the boy as I sat at my desk to catch up on pending tasks and study a bit.

    "Hey, do you know what happened to mom?" from his bed, Gabe asked, concerned.

    "What do you mean?" I asked.

    "Mom and dad picked me up from music class, and mom was sad, but no one tells me why," Gabe explained. "I think it''s because of something that happened at work."

    "Oh, don''t worry about that, there were a few sick babies," I explained to Gabe calmly.

    "Was she so sad just because of that?" incredulous, Gabe asked.

    "Need more?" worried about the lack of empathy from the child, I turned in my chair to look at him seriously.

    "No, I mean, it''s sad, of course," he said obviously, "but they''re in the hospital to get better, right?" he innocently asked.

    "Yes, to cure them," I nodded to the child.

    As practically every weekday, the day continued with relative normality; we had dinner as a family, and along with Bob and Gabe, I exercised in the garage using weights.

    After my nightly routine, mentally fatigued from everything that happened during the day, I practically fell asleep as soon as my head touched my pillow.

    The next day, as usual, Gabe and I woke up to go for a run early in the morning, returning several minutes later to the house, where we prepared for the day by having breakfast at the kitchen table with Bob, who was the only one of the two adults awake at the moment.

    Remembering how the day before I had arrived much earlier than usual, I decided to leave a few minutes later from home, taking my time to have breakfast calmly.

    With my previous planning, when I arrived at school, unlike yesterday, there were many more cars parked in the parking lot, as well as many people around the school and the cars.

    Turning off ''Debbie'' and getting out of the car, I once again found myself with the familiar feeling of being the center of attention.

    Trying to ignore the obvious whispers about me, I closed ''Debbie,'' making sure the door didn''t open, and turned on my heels to walk to the school. Before I could move forward, I had to abruptly stop, nearly bumping into a strange teenager with a very extravagant haircut standing uncomfortably close to me.

    "Hi, you probably already know, but I''m Joey," Joey introduced himself with a strange smile, raising his hand for a handshake. "Joey Donner," he continued.

    "PJ," I said, taking his hand and discreetly pulling away from the unconscious teenager, forcing a smile as I introduced myself.

    "I know that," Joey said obviously. "Nice car," he continued, gesturing towards ''Debbie'' with his eyes, still holding my hand in his grip.

    "Thanks," I said uncomfortably, trying politely to retrieve my hand from the smiling teenager''s grasp, to no avail.

    "I''m planning on buying one myself, you know?" he said. "I''ve had some gigs as a model and have some dollars saved up, so I might be able to buy a car like this or better," the teenager said with a touch of arrogance.

    "Well, congratulations," I said, trying to be as polite as possible with a smile that wasn''t forced at all. "Sorry, can I have my hand back?" I uncomfortably pointed out that our hands were still connected by his grip.

    "Oh," apparently ignoring the entire awkward moment he held my hand, the teenager quickly let go.

    Despite letting go of my hand, the teenager didn''t move away from me, maintaining an arrogant smile on his face as he stared at me. "So, need anything else?" a little tired of the whole awkward moment, I asked, trying to make it clear that I wanted to leave.

    "Alright, straight to the point," the teenager laughed strangely, slowly shaking his head. "You know why I''m here," he continued as if the idea were completely obvious.

    "No, that''s why I asked you," I sarcastically replied to the increasingly foolish teenager.

    With condescension on his face, "you and Regina George," Joey said strangely, puffing out his chest, "are no longer a thing."

    "What?" I asked, astonished by the direct declaration of the foolish teenager. "Who said that?" I asked again, incredulous.

    "I mean, the whole school has been talking about what happened yesterday," pointing to some of the people around who continued to look at me and talk among themselves, "and don''t get offended, but it was only a matter of time. I mean, Regina can obviously do better," Joey said, obviously speaking of himself, with an arrogant smile.

    "So, are you here to ask me if you can go after Regina?" surprised by the lack of shame from the foolish teenager, I asked.

    "Yeah, you know, it''s part of the man code, to ask before starting the race," the annoying teenager said unpleasantly cheerful.

    "Race," I repeated with disdain as the teenager nodded excitedly. "Okay, you know what, I don''t know yet, I haven''t had a chance to talk to Regina. But, I''ll tell you this, if we really ''are not a thing'' anymore, you''ll be the first to know," I continued obviously with sarcasm.

    Without understanding the obvious lie behind my statement, Joey smiled widely, raising his fist for a fist bump that I reluctantly returned. "Thanks, man," Joey said before walking towards the school with an excited step.

    "You''re welcome," I said, amazed by the obvious lack of common sense in the idiot teenager.

    Incredulous about the entire interaction with the foolish teenager, I chuckled amusedly before walking into the school on my own.

    As I walked to my locker, as painfully usual for me, people were very aware of my presence in the hallways.

    Next to my locker, my friends were already getting their things ready for the day.

    "SuperStar," Brock greeted me with a friendly slap on the shoulder, a sad expression on his face. "How are you?" David, who was also there, asked seriously.

    "I''m fine, thanks," I responded, puzzled by my friends'' attitude.

    "Did you hear about the rumor that you and Regina ended your relationship?" Alan calmly explained from his locker next to mine.

    "Oh," I said, understanding why my friends were acting strangely. "I don''t know yet, in fact, I know the same as everyone else in the school apparently," I continued ironically, pointing to the people who were still staring at me in the hallway, managing to at least make the teenagers feel a little embarrassed.

    "Yeah, everyone knows about that," Georgie affirmed.

    "Speaking of which, do you guys know a guy named Joey Donner?" I asked.

    "Yeah, I know him," Alan said calmly. "Thinks he''s a ''model,'' an arrogant idiot," my quiet friend summarized.

    "Yeah, he intercepted me in the parking lot and basically asked me to give him a heads up for the ''race'' to get Regina, as if that were a thing," I said amusedly at the nonsense, strangely not getting the expected reactions from my friends, except Alan.

    "Oh, come on!" understanding my friends'' lack of reaction, I said annoyed.

    "It''s a joke, it''s a joke, sorry," Brock said, being supported by Georgie.

    David avoided my gaze and avoided saying anything.

    "Really?" I asked, surprised and offended alike.

    "Don''t be an idiot," Brock said, hitting David''s nape.

    "Okay, okay, sorry, it''s just that she''s so pretty," embarrassedly, David said.

    "Who?" suddenly appearing next to us and startling many of those present, Kat asked.

    "Kat, get a bell," still shaken by her sudden appearance, I joked to the teenager.

    "Ha ha, funny, what were you guys talking about?" she asked after laughing falsely.

    "Just some idiots," I jokingly replied.

    "Yeah, unfortunately, there are many of those around here," Kat affirmed, amused.

    "Oh, guys, this is Kat, Kat, my friends," seeing that three of my friends didn''t know Kat, I introduced them.

    "Hey," Kat greeted. "Stratford," Alan greeted calmly with a small nod, being the only one of my four friends who spoke instead of just staring at the girl with their mouths open.

    "Let me guess, Alan?" pointing to my quiet friend, Kat asked me with a big smile.

    "Yeah, and that''s Brock, David, and Georgie," I said, pointing to each of my friends.

    "Well, nice to meet you guys, I have to go to class," a little uncomfortable with my friends'' stares, Kat said before leaving.

    "Really smooth," I teased my friends, "especially you, David, I''m sure if it really exists, you''ll win the ''race,''" I continued teasing my friend.

    "PJ," from the school hallway, Sheldon in his amusing formality was standing quietly waiting.

    "Hey buddy, are you ready?" I asked.

    "Yes," formally Sheldon responded.

    Classes proceeded as usual, essentially serving as an excuse for Sheldon and me to compete in our knowledge contest.

    At lunchtime, my friends and I took our seats at our usual table. Again, like the day before, Regina and her friends were nowhere to be found.

    As I listened to my friends'' conversations and occasionally participated in them, lunchtime passed. At one point, Kat and another girl approached our table, taking seats in the empty spaces. "Since you introduced me to your friends, I thought I''d do the same. This is Mandella, Mandella, these are the guys," Kat said playfully.

    "Pleasure to meet you, Mandella," I greeted the teenager.

    "Likewise, PJ, it''s a pleasure to finally meet you," the girl said with a suggestive smile, leaning slightly towards Kat, who nudged her away with a small elbow jab.

    "So, Kat only told me that you were her friend¡ª" I was saying, but Alan beside me gave a weak tap on my arm, stopping me. When I turned to my calm friend to see what he needed, he nodded his head at the cafeteria entrance, indicating Regina, who was standing at the door, obviously upset storming out of the cafeteria moments later.

    Quickly getting up from the table, I walked after her, obviously and to my consternation becoming the center of attention of everyone in the cafeteria, I could feel the weight of the stares from my peers, their whispers forming a backdrop to the unfolding drama.

    "Regina, wait," surprisingly, Regina had only taken a few steps from the cafeteria door. So I quickly said, stopping her and gently taking her wrist.

    "What?" Regina shouted angrily, pulling her hand away.

    "Let''s talk. I don''t know what you think, but it''s a mistake," I said, releasing her hand to avoid hurting her.

    "I don''t want to talk. You''re a cheater," Regina pointed her finger at my chest, continuing to shout.

    "Kat and I are just friends¡ª" I was saying, but Regina interrupted me. "Oh yeah, clearly, the cock biter, and you''re just friends," she said dryly, laughing with irony. "I don''t understand you. I mean, I''m Regina George, and I don''t get cheated on," she exclaimed, offended and surprisingly agitated, pointing at herself and widening her eyes.

    Surprised by her sudden attitude, I fell silent, not really knowing what to say. Regina was breathing quickly as she clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles began to whiten.

    Sighing as she shook her head, Regina calmed her expression, also adopting a different body posture. Suddenly, she began to blink rapidly, causing her eyes to start watering.

    "Regina, what¡ª" I was asking, but the lunch bell interrupted my words. As we were in the middle of the hallway in front of the cafeteria doors, the place quickly began to fill with people on their way to their lockers for their next classes.

    Seeing all the people around us, Regina, completely changing her expression, began to cry. "We''re done," she yelled, with what was clear only to me were fake tears streaming down her face.

    From somewhere, Karen and Gretchen appeared, each taking one of Regina''s arms as they led her away, shooting furious looks at me.

    In disbelief at what had just happened, I could only stand there in the middle of the hallway, watching as the three teenagers quickly left, leaving me as the center of attention for a bunch of gossip-hungry teenagers.

    "Are you okay?" Kat suddenly appeared beside me, asking.

    "I owe someone fifty dollars," I replied, defeated.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and I''m not a doctor.

    The resolution of the baby case is obviously a blind attempt on my part, because if you remember well, in House M.D., one of the babies had to die so they could perform the autopsy and thus find out it was a virus affecting locally. However, obviously, in my shift, I won''t allow a baby to die, if I can help it.

    Therefore, I arrived at the solution of this chapter. What do you think about it? I''ll be reading your comments. (I would love to know how you would have solved it if you come up with another way).

    The end of the relationship with Regina attempted to frame a hint of an attitude born from the blind belief of being "perfect." So, I imagined that within the aggrieved psyche of the teenager, someone cheating on her would be an offense to her entire belief system, driving her a little crazy. (As in the previous section, I would love to read what you thought of this.)

    By the way, this is not the last we''ll see of Regina. Obviously, she''s an interesting character to use as an antagonist for a while longer.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 43

    Extra weekly chapter because last Sunday I couldn''t publish a chapter.

    ---

    If before, during the day, people tried and fail not to be too obvious when they saw me and talked about me, what remained of the school day was practically torture. Wherever I looked, many of my classmates, now completely shameless, pointed at me and discussed me. Even during class, I could sense a hint of interest in some of the looks the teachers gave me.

    Enduring and trying to ignore the vast majority of my classmates'' attention, the school day ended. After saying goodbye to my friends, passing through the gazes of the people I encountered, I quickly walked to ''Debbie,'' almost immediately leaving the school grounds.

    As the day before, I arrived much earlier than Mom at the hospital since her car wasn''t parked in its usual spot again. After greeting Mom''s fellow nurses, I walked to House''s office, where only he was, leaning back in his chair, reading a Cosmopolitan magazine with a woman in a swimsuit on the cover, totally calm and shameless.

    "How are the babies?" I asked first upon entering the office.

    "Safe and sound," House replied disinterestedly, not taking his attention off his magazine. "Oh, you''re upset," sarcastically remarked House, finally tearing his attention away from the magazine he still held in his hands. "Something tell me I''d be fifty dollars richer," leaving the magazine on his desk, House leaned forward, narrowing his eyes with a strange smile.

    Annoyed, I took a fifty-dollar bill from my wallet before handing it over to the now smiling man, who intensely began inspecting the bill, even sniffing it.

    "How did you know?" trying not to show embarrassment about the bet, I asked.

    "Oh," abruptly stopping inspecting the bill, House falsely exclaimed, "your expression when you saw me. There were two possibilities: someone told you something that may or may not be true about your mother and me in one of the closets," sarcastically House quickly said, "or you were upset because you lost a bet with me." He continued speaking with obviousness, "It was fifty-fifty," he said amusingly, balancing his hands.

    "That''s not it," I said exasperatedly. "How did you know what Regina was going to do?" I asked curtly.

    "Who?" with exaggerated interest, House asked.

    "My girlfriend," I said, "ex-girlfriend," I immediately corrected myself.

    "Oh, the beautiful cheerleader," House said amusedly, leaning back in his chair again. "I''ll tell you, but it comes with a price," sarcastically, House continued, shaking the bill in his hand as he propped his feet on the desk in front of him.

    "Alright, don''t tell me," leaving my backpack on one of the free hooks next to the bookcase, I said before trying to leave the doctor''s office to go to the library.

    "Tell me how it happened, and I''ll tell you how I knew," before I could reach the office door, House said.

    "What?" I asked, not understanding.

    "How it happened, you know, she yelled at you in a classroom, or outside of school when everyone was leaving, how did it happen?" amusedly House asked.

    Standing in front of the man, in my head, I quickly weighed the pros and cons of actually telling him how things happened. Everyone at school knew, and that made people see me as if I were an animal in the zoo. If I told House, I would only give him bullets to embarrass me even outside of school.

    "Okay," ignoring the obvious problems this could cause me in the future, I took a seat on the other side of the man, summarizing the situation.

    "Ah, a public execution," finishing my account, House exclaimed amusedly, "my favorite show."

    "Yes, yes, now tell me," trying to abruptly cut his amusement, I exclaimed.

    "You really have no idea, it''s even sad," studying my expression, House said, "how can I put it so you understand?" looking at the ceiling of his office, House pretended to think for a few seconds, "ah, I know," he said, getting up and walking to his board, dragging it to the center of the office.

    "Differential diagnosis," writing as he spoke, House pointed to the phrase, "what do we do when we try to diagnose a patient?" House asked.

    "Write down their symptoms and treat them," not understanding where the conversation was going, I said.

    "That''s what doctors do," contemptuously, House said, "you and I seek a relationship beyond the symptoms and the patient," House said, writing more things on the board that, because he was in the middle, I couldn''t see. "Don''t flatter yourself and think I''m praising you. You still have a long way to go if you want to be at least half as good as me," without turning, House said mockingly.

    "Oh no, how could I even think of being as good at diagnosing as the incredible Dr. House," with exaggerated sarcasm, I exclaimed, "I''m glad you understand," House quickly retorted.

    "Have I ever taught you what you should do to diagnose someone in the clinic without reading their file?" House turned to me, narrowing one of his eyes.

    "Observe," I said, remembering what he had shown me many days ago, as well as the little notebook I still carried with me.

    "Exactly," with fake excitement, House exclaimed, pointing at me, "what you did with that little notebook, which I hope you still use, was an exercise for you to practice unconsciously observing a patient," House explained calmly, "what magazine was I reading?" he suddenly asked.

    "Cosmopolitan," I replied without a problem, "but anyone could have seen that," I countered his point.

    "Oh yes, anyone could have seen the magazine, but not observed it," sinisterly, House said, "what color was the bikini?" he asked again, smiling suggestively.

    "Black," somewhat embarrassed by the nature of the question, I replied.

    "Very few people would have remembered actually observing that detail," seriously, House said as he nodded, "although you''re a hormonal teenager, so it might just be of great interest to you," the man added ironically, "so tell me, did the model wear a bracelet, and on which hand?" House asked again, this time much more serious, leaning on his cane.

    "Right hand," surprised by the question and especially by how I actually knew it, I took a few seconds to respond.

    Certainly, striving to consciously observe people had made me start to unconsciously observe them at some point. But even if I were developing a useful skill for diagnosing patients much more effectively, I didn''t understand the connection with his ability to guess Regina''s actions.

    "I don''t understand what this has to do with¡ª" I was saying, "speak only when I tell you, we''re almost there," House rudely interrupted.

    "So, the first step in diagnosing is observing," House listed, "during the observation process, you gather data. The patient''s nose is irritated, one of their pupils is dilated, they limp on one of their legs, they have a weak grip with their dominant hand, blah blah blah," House continued with disdain.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "The first rule is that you really can''t know anything if you only remember isolated data and try to use it," House asserted, "if the data don''t relate to a diagnosis, you have no way to use them, right?" he asked arrogantly.

    "But to use this data in a real diagnosis, you need to have prior medical knowledge, which for now you strangely have," ironically, House continued, "unlike your embarrassingly lack of social knowledge. Do you have any friends to hang out with after school?" mocking, House added.

    "Okay, House, thanks for the lecture. If it was just luck, you could have said it," tired of his continuous insults, I said.

    "You know how to diagnose boring diseases, flu, human parasites that people call babies, infections, and a bunch of other things. I''ve taught you, and I''ve seen you do it," raising his hand to silence me, House said, "but your incredibly poor social skills don''t allow you to diagnose the most fun of all, at least not consciously," exaggerating mystery in his words, House continued.

    "The Lie," after a few seconds that House surely used to create a suspenseful atmosphere, the limping doctor said, moving away from the front of the board to reveal various words.

    "Yes, yes, everybody lies," annoyed by the sarcastic man''s games, I cut him off.

    "That''s a great motto. Who taught you that?" House said sarcastically. "whoever the mastermind was who said that was right. Everybody lies, but very few of us know how to diagnose a lie," obviously amused by the idea of giving a lecture, House continued speaking.

    "Lies, like any other diseases, have types. There are many, but for today''s class, we''ll only be interested in the following," pointing to the board, House said, "blatant, exaggeration, omission, and utilitarian," emphasizing the last one.

    "Your cheerleader put on quite a show of a utilitarian lie," the man affirmed, amused, "but we''re not there yet."

    "Like any disease, with lies, there are symptoms one observes when diagnosing," House calmly said. "There are the easy ones to observe: body language, whether their posture is open or closed, defensive or relaxed, eye contact, involuntary tics while speaking," House continued, writing in another section of the board.

    "Incredible analogy, House, but you never met Regina yourself," I stopped the man sharply.

    "And that''s why I said those were the easy ones," smiling sinisterly, House said, "the difficult ones are things you observe when they''re not aware, things you confirmed to me. People''s behavior in her presence, the way they interact with her inner circle, simple things like where they choose to sit give you so much data you can use."

    "You confirmed to me that she''s popular, therefore many people in your school are aware of her when she walks the school halls with at least two companions always by her side, she sits at the central table in the cafeteria, and she''s a cheerleader, so her main job is to attract attention," House affirmed. "With all that data, I can, and then you can, diagnose a typical case of attention-seeking behavior."

    "And what if you''re wrong?" I asked abruptly. "Also, how can you tell if it''s a lie?"

    "Didn''t you hear what I told Cameron yesterday?" irritated, House said, "we stick with our diagnoses until something makes us change our minds," House repeated. "And knowing if it''s a lie or not, simply common sense," he said obviously.

    "Now, all these types of lies have some common symptoms," House continued, returning to the topic. "They want to divert your attention from what they''re seeking. A blatant liar says something that is completely different from the truth. Yesterday''s patient, the woman with the human parasite, she''s going to blatantly lie to her husband about her pregnancy," he exemplified.

    "Like you," pointing to the man, I affirmed.

    "Oh no, like your cheerleader, I give utilitarian lies," with total lack of shame, House said, "but that''s not the next one," lightly tapping the board, House added, "lies by exaggeration are when facts are exaggerated or minimized, for example when your mom tells you that you look handsome."

    "Or like when Dr. Wilson says you''re not a bad person altogether," I said.

    "Wilson says that?" falsely offended, House asked, "I need to talk to him."

    "The next one is the lie by omission," pointing to the next one on the board, House said, "it''s the most common one we face. They give you the truth, but not the whole truth," House continued, "for example, the idiots who thought it prudent not to tell us their son was adopted."

    After finishing, House looked at me puzzled for a few seconds. "No witty comment for this one?" he asked.

    "Oh, sorry, I didn''t think of one," I said, making House nod.

    "Lastly, in this class," straightening his back and exaggerating his tone, House continued, "utilitarians lie to take advantage of situations, purely selfish reasons," House said shamelessly, adding, "shedding fake tears when a large part of the student population is present and screaming to confirm what''s happening, that, kid, is the definition of a utilitarian liar with attention-seeking behavior."

    Everything House had said hit me with a heavy dose of reality. Seeing lying as a disease that can be diagnosed was something only House would do. I recognize my own ability for diagnosing patients, I practiced hundreds of hours in my past life and possibly also in this one without realizing it, it''s something I now do unconsciously.

    "So, what am I supposed to do?" after completely absorbing everything House said, I asked.

    "I''m not your father to tell you what to do," sarcastically, House said, taking the eraser to clean the words on the board.

    "No, but you yourself said that lies are a disease, there must be a treatment," playing with his analogy, I said.

    Sighing, House walked back to his chair after putting the board back in place, "what do you want me to tell you, something poetic like the only treatment is the truth?" he asked ironically, "I enjoy hitting idiots in the face with the truth. You do whatever you want," opening one of his drawers, House pulled out another small notebook identical to the one he had given me before, "you know what this is for," he continued, dropping the small notebook on the desk, "now go, I have a date with Aline," opening his magazine again, House said, putting his feet back on the desk.

    Amused by the man''s action I took the notebook from the desk before leaving the man''s office, I walked to the hospital library to learn with the videos many more interesting surgical procedures.

    "Duncan!" halfway to the library in one of the corridors, my name was suddenly shouted, "Mr. Stratford," turning to discover who called me, I found the man surprisingly not looking upset. This time he seemed embarrassed.

    "PJ," when he was close enough, much kinder than I remembered any interaction with him, he said, "I wanted to talk to you," adding to my theory of his embarrassment, the man seemed unable to maintain eye contact with me. Feeling the small notebook that House had given me, I thought, why not start now.

    Keeping silent to allow the man to speak, I waited a few short seconds before apparently Mr. Stratford gathered courage. "I wanted to apologize to you," this time managing to maintain eye contact, the man said without hesitation, completely facing me.

    "It wasn''t fair how I treated you before. It''s just that Dr. Cuddy talked to all of us about your presence in House''s department, and I thought you would be like him..." the man continued with difficulty describing House.

    "Arrogant and rude," I said.

    "Yes, arrogant, rude, unpleasant, annoying," the man became increasingly angry as he listed, "but I had the chance to talk to the nurse from the maternity ward," seeing my expression, the man controlled himself before saying.

    "Brenda," I reminded the doctor of the woman''s name, "yes, Brenda, and she only had good things to say about you, like many other nurses. So when I got home, I discreetly asked Kat about you, and she holds you in high esteem as a good friend," the man continued.

    "Yes, and I do too. Kat and I are just good friends," I clarified to the man.

    "That''s why I wanted to apologize to you," formally raising his hand, the man asked for a handshake that I gladly accepted, "don''t worry, Mr. Stratford, I understand where your concern came from. House is not a very good person."

    "No, he''s not," Mr. Stratford agreed, "but unfortunately, he''s a good doctor, and as long as you only learn medicine from him, it will be useful for your future," looking around before saying anything else, Mr. Stratford admitted.

    "Yeah," I said in agreement.

    "By the way, I heard you managed to solve the case of the babies. It was a great discovery about the stuffed animals," kindly, Mr. Stratford said, "how did you figure it out?" he asked, interested.

    "Observing," I responded after a few seconds.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, I''m not a doctor, and I''m not Sherlock Holmes.

    One of my favorite literary characters is Sherlock Holmes, a character that House was obviously based on. Searching for information about this a long time ago, I came across an article from a university where they explained the theoretical process that Holmes uses for deduction. This chapter is my attempt to describe what I remember from that article (I don''t remember the title, but it had something to do with what our brain ignores and what Holmes theoretically does not).

    Perhaps someone might find it surprising the idea of House explaining everything he did and giving small compliments to the MC, but it''s an AU of a fanfiction; to begin with, and House in my story, as many may have already noticed due to the obviousness of the matter, serves as a mentor figure for the MC, so I''ll use it.

    I also must say that everything about lies was taken from my imagination; it seemed like an ad hoc analogy with House.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 44

    After a very brief conversation with Mr. Stratford, I spent the whole day taking advantage of the videos that the hospital library had on its shelves. I was so absorbed trying to capture everything that happened in the videos and paying attention to the explanations that the surgeons gave, that if it weren''t for Neil reminding me of the time, I probably would have left the hospital late again.

    Returning to House''s office, I found the man also preparing to leave. "Look who''s finally here," House said falsely surprised. "Has your marathon of boring movies ended?" he asked sarcastically while grabbing his backpack.

    "I wasn''t watching boring movies," I defended myself. "They are surgical procedures."

    "Same boring thing," House said disinterestedly.

    "Sure, because soap operas are much more interesting," I sarcastically replied to him.

    "I''m glad you understand," House said with an exaggerated smile. "Look, kid, this has been fun and all, but I have to be somewhere else, you know, doing things," he continued quickly as he walked out of the office, avoiding any response from me.

    Gathering my things, I followed House, who had been intercepted by the pregnant woman from the previous day''s consultation, presumably her husband. She seemed nervous as she spoke to House, obviously silently pleading with him, possibly to maintain some lie.

    Seeing House''s exasperation at the unpleasant conversation, I walked calmly towards the hospital exit.

    In the emergency room waiting area, at the reception desk where Mom and her colleagues work, I said goodbye to the other nurses while helping Mom carry her things to her car. "See you at home," I said as I closed the passenger door of Mom''s car after putting her things inside before walking over to ''Debbie''.

    The day continued and ended with the relative normalcy of every day: some time with my siblings separately, family dinner, and exercising in the garage with Bob and Gabe.

    The next day, just like the previous day, as soon as I arrived at school, I was the subject of looks and whispers among my classmates, obviously discussing what had happened the day before.

    Ignoring the looks of the people I passed, I walked quickly, trying to keep my expression completely neutral as I headed to my locker.

    So the day went on, during classes, although my competition with Sheldon remained smooth, answering each teacher''s questions without a problem, I could sense a certain degree of pity when, especially the female teachers, gave me the floor to respond.

    Having noticed these sudden expressions of pity that the teachers threw at me every now and then during class, I couldn''t help but notice them in many more people now. While for the male population of the school, I could sense a shared feeling of disbelief directed at me, the expressions of the women in general matched those of the teachers with a certain degree of pity.

    In the cafeteria, I could still see this strange phenomenon happening. "There are many girls worried about you," Kat, sitting next to me again, said discreetly.

    "What?" I asked, taken by surprise by her sudden statement.

    "Yep," Kat said amusingly, "if you feel like all the looks you''re getting are too much, try to imagine a bunch of teenagers repeatedly asking you how you managed to go out with the ''perfect'' PJ Duncan to try it out for themselves," she sarcastically continued.

    "At first, I explained the real reason we were at the mall that day, but after the tenth question, I found it funny to invent situations," Kat explained.

    "Wait, what?" I asked again.

    "Oh yeah, one of them thinks my dad pays you to go out with me," Kat said, amused, taking a sip from a juice box.

    "Oh, Kat, come on," I had enough with a rumor spreading about me at school; I didn''t need another, let alone one where it seemed like I was prostituting myself.

    "At least it''s better than what the guys think of you," adding to the conversation, David, who was sitting in front of us, said.

    "They think I''m crazy or stupid," I said, trying to guess.

    "Yeah, they don''t understand how you cheated Regina George into..." David was saying, suddenly falling silent as he remembered Kat was there.

    "I have a name, you know?" Kat ironically asked.

    "Yeah, sorry, I didn''t mean to," David was apologizing. "None taken," Kat interrupted him calmly.

    "So, your dad pays me, huh?" breaking a small awkward silence generated by David''s embarrassment, I asked Kat.

    "What?" Kat asked defensively. "It''s funny even to think about it; my dad hates you for some reason," she affirmed with a small insolent smile.

    "Oh, really?" I asked, imitating her insolent smile. "Funny you should say that. Yesterday your dad stopped me at the hospital to talk to me; he had something very interesting to tell me about you," I said before biting into my lunch apple.

    "What?" Kat asked this time surprised.

    Ignoring all the questions the teenager had about my conversation with her father, lunch continued without any event that caught everyone''s attention. Regina and her friends never made it to the cafeteria again.

    With some changes, including the decrease in attention drawn in the school hallways and Regina and her two friends reclaiming the table in the center of the cafeteria for themselves again, the days passed.

    Completing the ''assignments'' that House had left me, the small notebook that I now also carried with me everywhere served as a record of the things I observed about people.

    With the first ''assignment'' House had given me, I had practiced a lot my observational skills regarding visible symptoms of a person, shifting the focus from merely medical symptoms to really anything about a person it was particularly difficult, at least for first few days and the first dozens of people observed, but as I paid attention to every little thing, the work gradually became easier.

    By paying attention to every little thing like the small hand movements someone made while talking to another person, the small tics like touching their hair every so often, or the direction each of their feet pointed during a conversation, each time showed me how easy it was to discern someone''s mood just by paying attention.

    Even in my own conversations, studying the behavior of my friends was an easier task than studying strangers. David, Georgie, and Brock were like open books once I had discerned certain points to consider when studying them, even Kat once I had enough conversations with her.

    The only different one was Alan.

    On Friday after practice in the locker room, I was sitting on one of the benches tying my shoelaces while trying to study Alan from the corner of my eye as he was calmly talking with one of our teammates.

    As always, Alan had a surprising ability to stay still during a conversation, both his hands and feet always pointing towards whoever he was talking to, no involuntary movement or combustion of attention to other things.

    After finishing his conversation with our teammate, as always bidding farewell with a small nod and a small smile that I could at least discern as fake, Alan walked over to where I was sitting.

    "Stop," he said quietly, leaning slightly towards me and taking a seat beside me.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled by the suddenness of the question.

    "It''s funny when you do it to other people, but it feels weird to be watched all the time," Alan explained as he began to dress. "I''ve seen how you do it, and I can see how quickly you''re improving, but it''s not going to work with me," he continued, tying his shoes.

    "I don''t understand what you''re talking about," I said, for some reason lying; strangely, it felt weird to be caught.

    "Oh, you know," with a small smile that I could internally confirm was genuine, Alan said, "obviously, you can''t see yourself, but when you lie, you make a small movement with your nose, it''s almost imperceptible, but it''s there."

    Standing up after tying his shoes, "you''re good, and it seems like you have a natural talent, but it''s still not enough," Alan said, giving my shoulder a small pat before walking away again with a genuine smile.

    The next day, Saturday, as I had promised Gabe last week, I planned to have a ''siblings day'', so early in the morning, before either of us could have breakfast, I asked them to get dressed to go out after informing my parents.

    "So where are we going?" Teddy asked from the passenger seat of ''Debbie''.

    "PJ said whatever I want," Gabe, excited, said from the back of the car. "How about we go to the comic store first?" the excited boy asked.

    "I remember telling you that we''d do something Teddy wants to do too, buddy. Later, you and I can go to the comic store," I reminded the kid.

    "Okay," defeated, Gabe agreed.

    "Thank you," relieved, Teddy said in a whisper.

    "Well, our first stop is some breakfast," I said, feeling a bit hungry. "How about some pancakes?" I asked.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Yes!" Gabe exclaimed excitedly again from the back of the car.

    "Yeah, that''s fine with me too," Teddy said, shrugging her shoulders.

    After several hours at the restaurant, talking with my siblings about anything that was on their minds, I paid for our breakfast before we headed out again. "So what do you want to do now?" I asked when we were inside ''Debbie''.

    "How about going to the mall for shopping?" Teddy asked hopefully this time.

    "No," Gabe exclaimed immediately with displeasure, "shopping is boring," he continued.

    Ignoring Gabe, Teddy, widening her eyes obviously as a tactic to silently convince me, asked again.

    "You heard him, it has to be something you both want to do," I quickly started the car, avoiding my sister''s pleading eyes.

    "How about the arcade? My friend Kevin says it''s a fun place," Gabe said.

    Seeing Teddy with doubt, I received from the teenager a not-so-sure nod before accelerating the car out of the breakfast restaurant''s parking lot.

    After asking for directions from someone on the street, we arrived at a colorful place with neon lights covering practically every space on the front facade.

    Inside, there were many machines with various video games, scattered everywhere. "You''re supposed to give me money to change it," standing in front of me inside the arcade, Gabe said, stretching his hand, "okay, little one," I said, taking out a five-dollar bill that was quickly snatched from my hand by an excited child who immediately ran to the store manager, a teenager surely several years older than me, who also seemed obviously tired.

    "Do you want to play something, Teddy?" my sister, beside me, was unusually quiet, staring fixedly at something or specifically someone in the distance.

    Following her gaze, I saw a small group of teenagers possibly the same age as her playing with a machine to measure strength behind a punch.

    "Who is he?" I asked, leaning towards her, managing to surprise her and therefore withdraw her attention.

    "Who?" nervously, she quickly asked, "nobody," and answered on her own, "it''s nobody," she continued, "did you see that? It''s a water shooting machine. I''m sure I can beat you," pointing to one of the many machines in the arcade obviously trying to divert my attention from the group of teenagers, she said.

    "Yes, I don''t think you can beat me, but before, if you don''t mind, I''ll probably go and talk to him," taking a step towards the group of teenagers, I said, feigning disinterest.

    "No!" Teddy exclaimed quickly, grabbing my arm.

    "Then who is he, and more specifically which one of them is he?" I said again, teasing my sister.

    "He''s nobody," she answered again, avoiding my gaze.

    "I can ask," I said again, pretending to take another step, I wouldn''t really do anything if Teddy didn''t want me to; I wouldn''t embarrass Teddy, at least not that much.

    "No," stopping my arm again, Teddy said, "okay, fine, he''s Ryan McCarthy," again embarrassed, Teddy admitted.

    "And who is this Ryan?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

    "He''s the one in the center," seeing his shoes, Teddy admitted.

    Ryan, in a nutshell, looked quite like Regina in the concerning parts. His friends, although they seemed funny around him, always stood by his side and seemed instinctively to seek his approval after saying something before laughing completely. From his clothes and shoes, the teenager obviously came from a wealthy family, and from his attitude after his friends hit the machine, he didn''t seem to care about hiding his contempt for those he saw as inferior to him.

    "I don''t like him," I said, turning towards the teenage store attendant.

    "Why not?" following me, Teddy quickly asked.

    "Just a feeling," I said as I arrived in front of the attendant, handing a bill for change; being close to the other teenager, I noticed other things that I hadn''t noticed from a distance before.

    His face was full of badly treated acne marks; he had obviously greasy hair, and I could perceive a smell that after living so many years in Los Angeles, I could recognize anywhere; he clearly wasn''t tired.

    "Look, if we manage to get a thousand tickets, we can win a stuffed whale," I said, pointing to the shelf behind the arcade attendant.

    "What kind of feeling?" annoyed, ignoring me, Teddy asked again, standing by my side.

    "He doesn''t seem like a good guy, Teddy," I explained calmly to my sister, silently thanking the attendant and walking to one of the machines.

    "How could you know, you don''t know him, you only saw him for a few seconds," exasperated Teddy said as I inserted a coin into one of the machines in the arcade, specifically the machine Teddy had seen earlier.

    "Yeah, that was enough for me," I replied again as I shot a stream of water into the open mouth of a crocodile.

    "You can''t just see someone for a few seconds and decide you don''t like them; you have to get to know them before you judge them," offended, Teddy said.

    "You''re right," finishing my turn, I said, turning to my now annoyed sister and handing her a coin, "I''m sorry," I continued, nodding towards the game.

    Shaking her head, Teddy inserted the coin, getting ready to shoot as well.

    While my sister was focused on the game again, I glanced at the group of teenagers, studying the so-called Ryan before forming a complete idea in my head.

    It seemed to be his turn to hit the machine''s ball, rudely shoving one of his friends aside, he positioned himself beside the machine, rotating on his hip and quickly striking the machine, waiting with his chest puffed out for the numbers on the machine to finish changing before turning to his group of friends with an arrogant smile and wide-open eyes, he seemed strangely ecstatic after achieving a strong hit on the machine.

    Approaching one of his friends, Ryan with two slaps to the other teenager''s face said something that obviously affected the beaten teenager before moving on with his entourage behind him; yeah, I definitely didn''t like him.

    "I told you, look at my score and weep," excitedly Teddy said, pointing at the machine.

    "Darn it," exaggerating my reaction, I said, annoyed, "take the tickets; let''s find a machine where I can beat you," I continued before moving on to another equally interesting machine.

    "We probably won''t find one in this state," arrogantly Teddy said after tearing off the papers the machine had spat out.

    "We''ll see," I said, putting another coin into another of the machines, equally arrogantly.

    After a few more machines, Gabe arrived with a bunch of tickets in his hands, wearing a big smile. "Hey, squirt, did you mug someone on your way here?" taking the incredibly large amount of papers from the younger boy''s hands, I asked.

    "No, you just have to climb the basketball machine, there''s some kind of sensor in the hoop, and if you quickly pass your hand through it, it counts as if you scored, I broke the machine''s record, and it gave me all these tickets," shamelessly, Gabe said with a big smile, possibly not understanding that he cheated or simply not caring.

    "Did anyone see you?" I asked, gauging his reaction.

    "Nope," proud of himself, Gabe replied.

    Obviously, he knew what he was doing.

    "Cheating is only for people who doubt their abilities, therefore, for cowards," I said, shaking his head, "never cheat again, Gabe," I said seriously to the boy, fortunately managing to make him look ashamed of his actions.

    "Well, we have one last coin, Teddy, do you want to use it on something else?" I asked my sister, who disinterestedly shook her head, apparently already bored.

    "Okay, then it''s my coin," I affirmed, and immediately Gabe put on an offended expression for not having been asked, "don''t cheat next time," interrupting any excuse he might give, I handed all the tickets to Teddy, who quickly started sorting them.

    Being the last coin, I decided, why not, to use it on a luck machine, a big wheel with only one lever; without expecting anything, I inserted the coin and pulled the lever. "Really?, a luck game, these are so boring, you never win anything," unbelievingly, Gabe said.

    "Well, Gabe, it was the last coin, and the¡ª" I was saying, but a bunch of sirens and alarms cut me off. Turning to see what was causing such noise, I saw that the wheel had landed on an incredibly small spot with the word "jackpot" written along it. "You won!" excitedly exclaimed Gabe, running over to where the machine continuously spewed out tickets.

    "I told you I''d find a machine where I could beat you," I arrogantly said to Teddy, who was also surprised, watching the seemingly endless line of tickets that Gabe was struggling to carry.

    After several minutes, the machine finished spitting out all the tickets it had to give. The amount of papers we obtained surprisingly equaled the number of tickets we already had.

    Carrying the pile of papers over to the counter where the teenager was now munching on chips with great pleasure, I asked the attendant, who simply pointed to a small machine on the other side of the counter.

    After counting all the tickets in the machine with the little help from the teenage attendant, we managed to get two prizes: the plush whale I had seen when we arrived and a small plastic ball gun that Gabe chose.

    "That was amazing! Did you see everyone''s faces when we came with all those tickets?" excitedly asked Gabe, bouncing along the sidewalk.

    "Yeah, we''re good at this," Teddy, also amused, said. "We have to come again!" exclaimed Gabe obviously.

    "Yeah, sure, we can come again another day," I assured my siblings as we got into ''Debbie'', "but it has to be on another ''sibling day'', possibly in a month to make it a regular thing," I continued, disappointing Gabe in the back seat of the car.

    "Not until a month?" he practically shouted incredulously from the back seat of the car.

    "It''s just an idea, buddy," I said as I pulled out of the arcade parking lot.

    "How about ice cream before going home?" I asked, already knowing the answer as I drove to the ice cream shop.

    "Yes!" Teddy and Gabe quickly said in unison.

    "Okay," I commented, amused, parking the car a few steps from the ice cream shop.

    After we all got out of the car and before we could reach the ice cream shop, Teddy suddenly stopped. "Isn''t that Regina George?" she said, pointing to one of the public benches on the street.

    "Well, yeah, that''s Regina," I said, noticing another teenager sitting beneath Regina, or more accurately, under Regina was another teenager, "oh my God, she''s eating that guy''s face," I said exaggeratedly, joking with my brother, who nodded with a mixed expression of disgust and amusement.

    The public indecency Regina was showing with her new, boyfriend? was especially surprising, following House''s whole profile, it would be contrary to the idea Regina was selling on her ''show'' by yelling at me in front of everyone; that or she simply didn''t think beyond that.

    "Wasn''t she your girlfriend?" worried and offended, Teddy asked.

    "You''re right about that, she was," I said, trying to reassure the teenager.

    "Don''t you mind?" Teddy asked incredulously, pointing to the couple, who were completely indifferent to the world around them.

    "I mean, no," I really didn''t mind. As the week went by, the few encounters I had with Regina at school only cemented everything House had described to me about her. Despite her pretending to be sad in front of a crowd, when there wasn''t enough audience, I could tell her sadness was fake. In addition to this, I could also notice how the other girls in school behaved around her. Contrary to what I thought before, it wasn''t a strange kind of admiration; it was fear.

    "No, Gabe," Teddy said, snapping me out of my thoughts. Looking at my younger brother to find what he did, I caught him slowly lowering his new toy with a mischievous smile.

    Immediately understanding what he did, I snatched the toy from his hands. "That''s not okay," I said, showing a disappointed expression, although internally I was amused. The balls didn''t hurt, much less from the distance we were at.

    The small ball Gabe shot served its purpose, separating the couple, searching for whatever hit them until they found the small ball on the ground a few inches away.

    Finding the projectile, the teenager, whom I had never seen before, searched for who threw it until he came to me, holding the plastic gun, oh.

    I hadn''t thought about it, quickly handing the gun back to my brother, I smiled innocently while the little boy, caught in his mischief, quickly ran into the ice cream shop.

    It seemed like the hormonal teenager wanted to stand up aggressively towards me, but surprisingly Regina stopped him. She was trying to hide her embarrassment; I could tell because unlike when we crossed paths in the school hallways, she consciously avoided looking in my direction.

    Being pulled by the arm, the teenager followed Regina in the opposite direction from where Teddy and I were standing, still sending me occasional hateful glances.

    "That guy gave me a bad feeling," Teddy said.

    "I told you, that happens sometimes," triumphantly laughing, I told Teddy.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and not a doctor.

    Once again, a chapter with a time skip. The timeline I''m using for this first volume is practically the same as that of Young Sheldon, so you can expect the next chapter to also have a time skip (but when will this chapter be?).

    This chapter served to showcase PJ''s development with what House wanted him to do of ''reading'' people. Again, I''m not Sherlock Holmes or a detective, so all the BS you see about this topic throughout the novel will have to be taken as real.

    I must say that the final event with Regina in this chapter serves to introduce an important character for another moment in the first volume. Obviously, it''s the other teenager, but I feel like I didn''t use the resource as well as I would have liked.

    Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    PS2: By the way, a few days ago was my birthday, I accept reviews as a gift.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 45

    Days passed and as expected due to the short attention span of teenagers in general, all the drama related to Regina didn''t last more than a week and a few days. Gradually, the gossip about what happened faded away.

    Also, since the next game of the season was about to happen, the animosity felt to my person by the male student population changed to the usual pre-game mood.

    By mid-October, the school hallways slowly filled up, surely due to the decision of the school council, with Halloween-related decorations.

    "So, are you going trick-or-treating this year?" Kat asked, next to my locker in what had become a regular event lately, surely also noticing the increasing amount of decorations in the school hallway, with a smug smile.

    "Oh, I think so," I replied shamelessly to her obvious attempt to embarrass me.

    "Really?" Taken aback, surely not getting the response she expected, Kat asked incredulously.

    "Yeah, I promised to go with Gabe," I said, "plus, a few candies as payment don''t sound too bad," I continued ironically.

    "Yeah, not bad at all," Kat said, smiling slightly.

    "Are you also going to take your brother for candies?" suddenly appearing from down the hallway, surprising both Kat and me alike, Alan calmly asked as he reached his locker.

    "You''re going to give someone a heart attack one of these days, man," I chided my friend, lightly tapping his shoulder in greeting. "Also?" I said, remembering his question, "Are you going to take Christian and Braxton?" I asked, deducing his response.

    "Yeah, Mom''s worried about Christian," my calm friend replied, organizing his things for the day.

    "Well, then you should come with us. I''m sure Gabe will get along with them," I offered to my friend. "And the company would be appreciated," I said again, lightly tapping Alan''s shoulder, causing my usually stoic friend to smile a bit.

    "You can come too, Kat, only if you don''t think going trick-or-treating with great company is childish," I reminded the present teenager, continuing to take Alan, who still hadn''t responded to my offer, into a shoulder hug, smiling exaggeratedly at the girl.

    "Yeah, sure, why not. At least I''ll get to meet another Duncan guy and find out if they''re all equally annoying," Kat sarcastically replied, adjusting her backpack, before leaving.

    A moment after Kat disappeared into the growing crowd of teenagers, Alan, who hadn''t said anything else, with a small chuckle, returned a weak tap to my shoulder. "You work fast, man. It hasn''t even been two full weeks," he said with an almost imperceptible smile on his face.

    "Oh, don''t be gross, man," immediately understanding what he was implying, I said offended, "She''s my friend, our friend," I continued, "nothing more," I clarified.

    "Whatever you say," lowering the volume of his voice, Alan said ironically.

    "What are you guys talking about?" immediately after, much louder than my calm friend, David arrived down the same hallway, asking cheerfully.

    "Nothing," I quickly said, ignoring the knowing smile of my calm friend. Kat was certainly beautiful, but apart from being a great friend, I don''t think I could see her any other way.

    Again, a few days passed without many changes in the daily routine. On Thursday, the day of the next game of the season, despite having a small streak of losses, the stands were filled with spectators waiting for the game. In such a small town with few things happening, football season games were an interesting event, regardless of the result.

    "They''re out there thinking this game is easy," in the locker rooms, as a tradition, walking in front of my teammates, I said disapprovingly, receiving shouts of disagreement.

    "They see a bunch of losers," I continued, receiving the expected response from the other teenagers with a lot of shouts and insults directed towards the, frankly, even innocent opposing team.

    "I want to ask you guys, is this game going to be easy for the other team?" I asked, shouting over the shouts of the other people, receiving an energetic negative from my teammates.

    "Are we going to lose this game?" I asked again, receiving negatives from my teammates.

    "So, who wants to go out there and show those idiots who the real losers are?" I asked immediately, receiving shouts from the excited teenagers.

    "Let''s go then," I continued, making my appropriately fired up teammates quickly leave the locker room with excited shouts, banging their helmets as they trotted out of the room.

    "You''re getting better every time," Mr. Cooper told me as he and I followed the others out of the locker room, "you know, if medicine doesn''t work out, you could do this for a living," the man continued, putting his hand on my shoulder amusedly.

    The game started after both teams entered the field. One person from the opposing team and I approached the head referee for the coin toss, unfortunately favoring the opposing team, allowing them to choose the initial kickoff.

    With the rest of my teammates, we watched as our defensive team prepared to stop the opposing team after the initial kick-off.

    The game started, and we quickly found ourselves on the losing side of the scoreboard. With their first four downs, the opposing team somehow managed to pass the defensive line, quickly scoring the first touchdown of the game, and then using their try, they managed to get an extra point.

    Encouraging the now crestfallen defensive team, along with my teammates, we went out to now catch the kick-off, after the initial whistle, Alan, who was prepared, managed to catch the ball before quickly starting to run to the other endzone, surprisingly without help, he managed to dodge tackle attempts on his way to almost thirty yards into the opposing team''s midfield.

    "Good job," along with my teammates, we approached Alan to congratulate the usually calm teenager.

    After trying several plays, unfortunately, the score remained the same for several minutes, while we failed to cover the ten yards giving up possession of the ball, fortunately, the defensive team managed this time to prevent the opposing team from scoring again, allowing once again to make the change.

    With the new opportunity, trying not to waste each down, we managed to advance a few yards, achieving a second set of downs.

    In the last down with a few seconds left in the first quarter, being only ten yards from the end zone, seriously along with my teammates, we lined up, ignoring all the sweat on my face as I shouted orders to my teammates, I took a deep breath before shouting "set hut," initiating the cacophony of hits in front of me.

    Taking a few steps back still with the ball in my hands, I moved looking for some free space among the players while my teammates pushed and clashed against the opposing team.

    Georgie, being physically overcome by one of the tackles, fell to the ground, leaving space for the incredibly wide opposing player to run straight at me.

    With a few seconds before he reached me, I frantically searched ahead of me for the end zone, where a moment later I found David raising his hands trying to separate from one of the opposing team''s safeties, without thinking I immediately threw the ball being tackled practically the moment the ball left my hand.

    "Eat some dirt, pretty boy," with the mouthguard in his mouth, it was difficult but I managed to understand what the opposing team''s tackle said, hitting my helmet while he was on top of me, a moment before he stood up releasing his weight from my chest.

    Taking a little of the air that I now lacked, I quickly stood up, hoping that my teammates were celebrating the touchdown to join them, unfortunately finding the opposite, beside me the opposing team''s tackle laughing trotted to where his teammates were celebrating what seemed like an interception.

    With the referee''s whistle, both teams regrouped walking towards our locker rooms.

    "That was an incredibly precise pass PJ, unfortunately the opposing safety was lucky enough to stretch his hand enough," Coach Cooper said, breaking an awkward silence in the locker room.

    "Now, what we''re going to do to recover those points is as follows," apparently deciding to ignore the heavy feeling in the locker room, Coach Cooper began to explain with the help of Coach Wilkins, who was drawing on a board with many arrows and figurines.

    The game continued following the coaches'' instructions, and playing seriously both teams managed to score several goals in the remaining quarters of the game.

    In the last quarter with us in possession of the ball with five minutes left in the game, despite scoring several touchdowns, the score was still in favor of the opposing team by four points.

    After the third Down, we were on the twelve-yard line unsure of what to do, "get ready to change position for the punt team," I said to those close enough to me before running to Coach Cooper who was discussing with Coach Wilkins.

    Before I could get close enough, Coach Cooper from his place with practiced gestures ordered me to go for it, he seemed sure of his decision while Coach Wilkins worriedly watched, we had enough time for the change of possession and in the position we were everybody know you have to punt.

    Following the coach''s orders, I ran again with my teammates causing them to gather around me, "Coach says we''re going for it," I said making my teammates, like me, surprised by the decision.

    "Stupid brother," Georgie muttered with annoyance beside me, speaking loud enough for seemingly only me to hear what he said.

    Looking again at Coach Cooper, who had a confident look on his face, I quickly searched for Mrs. Cooper, who always attended the games alongside my mom. She seemed equally confident, unlike the other spectators who appeared disgruntled with the coach.

    If this decision was based on something Sheldon said, there might be a mathematical reason behind it.

    Acknowledging this fact, I felt much more secure about the play. "Power left jumbo one two one two, ready?" I asked, and immediately my teammates responded by shouting "break" in unison.

    Breaking the huddle, we all trotted to our positions, lining up opposite the opposing team. The drums and trumpets of the band were loudly playing, and so were the cheers of the cheerleaders, where Regina and her friends were no longer part of.

    "And the Wolves are going for it on the fourth down," the announcer said over the speakers in the stadium, eliciting applause from the spectators, seemingly out of courtesy.

    "You didn''t have enough, eh, Goldilocks?" taunted the opposing team''s defensive lineman from the line, laughing dryly. "I''m coming for you," he continued rudely pointing me out.

    Prepared in our positions and having shouted the orders again, I prepared to receive the ball. "Set hut!" I yelled a few seconds before receiving the ball.

    The play was an option play; I was going to either hand off or fake hand off the ball to my fullback, Alan, depending on the reaction of the defensive line.

    Noticing a gap where I could run, I decided to fake the handoff and try to run on my own.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Managing to advance a few steps, I thought I was going to make it until suddenly a strong hit from my side knocked me to the ground quickly.

    "I told you, Goldilocks, you''re mine," I heard the annoyingw teenager''s voice nearby, laughing before my head was rudely pushed back to the ground again.

    "Hey!," I heard a bunch of my teammates shout as I quickly got up, trying to stop any attempt at a fight. A moment later, there was another collective shout, but this time of surprise. Turning quickly to find out what had happened, I found the opposing tackler on the ground in a very uncomfortable position while Alan somehow had him subdued on the ground with one of the tackler''s arms trapped between his legs.

    "Let him go, Alan, it''s okay," I quickly said, trying to avoid any kind of sanction.

    Fortunately, my usually calm friend heard my plea, releasing the arm of the much broader player and pushing him a second later before he could get up.

    I hoped that at least the teammates of the opposing tackler would try something in retaliation, but strangely they only looked worriedly scared at Alan, even some of our teammates looked at him the same way.

    "You okay?" I asked my friend, pulling him gently by the helmet. "Yeah, I got your back," Alan responded seriously and a bit agitated.

    "Yeah, I can tell," I said jokingly, nudging his helmet.

    A moment later, the referee blew his whistle. I was sure we would be penalized for Alan''s actions as I walked with my teammates to regroup and prepare to switch with the defensive team.

    "Too many men on the field, defense!" the referee shouted, throwing a yellow flag. "Replay fourth down," he said, to everyone''s surprise on the field.

    "What?" I asked incredulously while still standing. Hadn''t they seen what Alan did?

    While the players from the opposing team argued with the referee, even taking the tackler with them, I gestured to the coach to see what we should do.

    As Coach Cooper seemed to contemplate the next decision, Coach Wilkins seemed to say something serious to him.

    After Coach Cooper responded to something visibly displeasing to Coach Wilkins, he signaled me to repeat the play.

    The arguments from the opposing team didn''t change the referee''s opinion, so the fourth down was replayed.

    "Set hut!" After we reformed in the formation, I shouted again, repeating the same option play, this time handing the ball off to Alan and running in the opposite direction, pretending I still had the ball to deceive the other players.

    Fortunately, I could hear the crowd starting to cheer excitedly moments after Alan received the ball.

    Dodging the other players and running much faster than I could have, Alan carried the ball down the field "he''s at the thirty," the announcer shouted as Alan kept running, "the twenty, the ten, touchdown, Wolves!" the man shouted, causing the spectators in the stands to rise excitedly, cheering along with us on the field.

    Running with my teammates, we surrounded Alan, who, despite panting from the sudden sprint, maintained his calm expression, receiving helmet taps as congratulations.

    The celebration lasted several seconds more before the referee made us stop.

    After scoring another extra point by field goal, we went out to allow the defensive team to enter, everyone still excited by Alan''s feat.

    "That''s what I was talking about, well done son," proud Coach Cooper arrived next to Alan, pressing his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

    Sitting next to me, Alan with an almost imperceptible smile silently stretched out his fist waiting for a blow that I happily gave.

    Apparently inspired by Alan''s run, the defensive team managed to stop the opposing team''s attempts, quickly allowing us to enter the field again.

    The scoreboard didn''t change even though we had advanced several tens of yards before the final whistle sounded, allowing us to finally celebrate a won game after some lost matches.

    After bidding farewell to the opposing team, we entered the locker rooms again, still excitedly celebrating our second victory of the season, my teammates and even I shouting with excitement.

    "Okay, okay," Coach Cooper entered the locker room with the game ball in his hand and a big smile on his face, trying to quiet the shouts and chants of my teammates.

    After a few seconds of trying, he finally succeeded. "Incredible game, guys, great run, Treveiler," Coach Cooper said, pointing at Alan. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a winning streak to come," the man continued seriously, causing my teammates to cheer again. "But for now, what you guys need to do is hit the showers, it stinks in here," Mr. Cooper said after a moment of silence admiring the game ball with a wide smile.

    Letting my teammates leave the locker room, I approached Coach Cooper in his office, who was still looking at the ball in his hand. "You should wash it before handing it over," I said, surprising the man.

    "What?" he asked, not understanding.

    "The ball, Sheldon won''t accept it if it''s dirty. You should wash it," I said, smiling at his incredulous look. Now I understood House; it''s fun to show you know something you shouldn''t know. Before Mr. Cooper could ask anything, I bid him goodbye, quickly walking to the showers.

    After everyone cleaned off the sweat and dirt from the game, we returned to the lockers.

    "Alan, are you some kind of ninja?" Suddenly brave, David asked, catching the attention of many present.

    "Yeah," my calm friend responded with a hint of sarcasm, ignoring the strange looks from everyone as he dressed calmly.

    "Yeah, I thought so," David said cheerfully, apparently ignoring the sarcasm in Alan''s response. Brock, beside David, tapped the back of his head as a reprimand. "What?" David asked sincerely puzzled. "We all saw what he did; it was like a ninja from the movies. One second he was walking towards the stupid ogre, and the next he had him on the ground with his arm about to break," David said, making exaggerated movements.

    "There''s a movie my mom watches about a man who does the same; he''s like a super spy," one of our teammates said. "But like the neck-breaker type," making a strange noise with his mouth, the same teenager said, aggressively moving his head on one side with the help of hand gestures.

    "It''s just a wrestling move," Alan said, closing his locker firmly, symbolically ending the conversation. "Whatever it is, it was pretty cool," David said, supported by everyone.

    When everyone except my four friends at my request, finished dressing. "Let''s go grab some pizza," I said, grabbing my things. "I''ll drive," I said, playing with the key to ''Debbie'' on my finger.

    "Yeah," Brock said excitedly, also grabbing his things and walking out of the locker room. "I''ll let my parents know," he continued before disappearing much faster than I had ever seen him run.

    "I will too," David and Georgie said equally excitedly, also leaving the locker room.

    "Well, then, I have to go too," Alan said calmly, taking his things from the bench. "Yeah, I''m sure your parents didn''t come today either," I said, forcibly hugging my friend''s shoulder. "Let''s go; I have to tell my mom," I said to my friend, dragging him out of the locker room.

    "I don''t have any money with me, PJ," Alan reluctantly said, easily removing my arm from his shoulder.

    "I''m inviting you; I didn''t ask if you had money," I said, pulling the teenager back under my arm, squeezing tighter this time.

    "No, PJ," Alan tried to remove my arm again, saying, "none of that. Don''t be stupid, Alan. We''re friends for a reason. I got your back, remember?" I repeated his words, amused, making him stop struggling to break free.

    "Mom, Mrs. Cooper" coming up next to Mom who was chatting happily with Mrs. Cooper and Georgie, "congratulations PJ" Mrs. Cooper said happily while carrying Georgie''s backpack, "Thank you Mrs. Cooper" I responded to the woman.

    "Oh, PJ, that was an incredible game," excitedly, Mom jumped up, hugging me. "What''s your friend''s name?" she asked after letting go of me. "Alan," I quickly replied, deducing what Mom was about to do from her body language. "Alan, that last run was impressive. Come here," pulling Alan into a hug too, Mom continued, confirming my deduction.

    It was amusing to see my incredibly skilled in fights friend being easily handled by a woman the size of my mother. "Although what you did with the opposing player was wrong, young man," Mrs. Cooper, always religious, scolded my friend, who seemed unsure how to react again. "Yes, it was, but I understand you did it for a good reason. I saw how that gorilla treated PJ," letting go of the hug, Mom said, softening the scolding from Mrs. Cooper a bit.

    "Yeah, I wasn''t looking for a fight," surprisingly embarrassed, Alan admitted, avoiding Mrs. Cooper''s judgmental gaze.

    "Well, Georgie here says you''re going for pizza," Mrs. Cooper spoke again, inquisitively. "Yeah, I can take him home, Mrs. Cooper," I assured the woman, who silently thanked me with a smile before giving some bills to her son.

    "Then give me your backpack, PJ," excitedly, Mom said. "Alan, don''t you have to ask your parents if you can go?" looking towards the stands, Mom asked, surely trying to expand her circle of friends.

    "My parents couldn''t make it," Alan calmly explained. "Oh, that''s too bad," Mom said sadly, probably for not being able to meet more people. "Well, do you need more money?" Mom asked, taking her purse. "No, I got it," I quickly said, avoiding her pulling out her wallet. "But if you can take Alan''s backpack too, that would be perfect. We can swing by to pick it up later," I said, practically snatching the backpack from Alan''s hands, who seemed especially nervous about letting go of his bag.

    With my friend''s backpack in my hand, I noticed it was surprisingly heavier than mine. "You know, Mom, why don''t we accompany you to drop the backpacks off in your car, and when you get home, you can ask Gabe or Dad for help so you don''t have to carry anything," hanging my friend''s backpack over my shoulder, I said.

    "Always so considerate," probably due to pregnancy hormones, Mom said, inhaling through her nose and wiping her eyes.

    After accompanying the two women to their cars, we regrouped with my other three friends before heading to the parking lot where ''Debbie'' was waiting.

    Brock, who was the biggest of my friends, sat in the passenger seat, while my other friends sat in the back of the car. And since Brock was sitting in the front, he had the mission of choosing the music disc that would play on our way from the variety that Kat made me buy.

    Eating pizza at the local joint wasn''t much different from any other day in the cafeteria, except this time it was to celebrate the victory of a game.

    The conversation practically revolved around what happened several minutes ago in the game.

    "We could go to the arcade next time. I went with my siblings the other day, and it''s a fun place," as I drove after eating, towards David''s house, I said, receiving positive responses from my friends.

    After dropping off David and Brock at their homes, before I could drop Alan off at his own house, I had to go get his backpack at my house. Upon arriving in front of the house, I parked the car, allowing Georgie, who had won the front seat, to get out before letting Alan out.

    "See you tomorrow," Georgie said excitedly, as a farewell, walking to his house.

    "You really are neighbors," Alan said amused, watching Georgie enter his house. "Yeah, sometimes my dad and Coach Cooper have barbecues; you should come to one," I said to my friend, walking towards my house.

    "I''m home," I announced upon entering, greeting Bob who was sitting on the couch reading his insect magazine. "Oh, champ, I heard congratulations are in order," Bob said, getting up, affectionately patting my shoulder. "And you''re Alan, right?" smiling kindly at my friend, Bob also patted his shoulder. "Yes, sir, nice to meet you, sir," straightening his back, Alan quickly said. "Wow," taken by surprise, Bob said, "I''m Bob, champ," continuing Bob said joking about my friend''s actions.

    "I heard you guys went for pizza, but if you want to stay for dinner, you''re completely invited," Bob said kindly.

    "Oh no, I don''t want to be a bother; we just ate, and we had a lot of pizza, but thank you very much for the invitation," matching the man''s kindness, Alan declined the offer.

    "Pizza?" before Bob could say anything, from behind him, through the hallway that connects the rooms in the house, Gabe shouted incredulously, "you went for pizza and didn''t invite me?" with a hurt expression on his face, he asked again.

    "Sorry, kiddo, it was just for those who were at today''s game. I don''t recall seeing you there," I immediately replied to the little boy, although I knew he couldn''t go because of his music classes.

    "I was in music class," offended, he said, raising his hands.

    "Oh, right," I said, pretending not to remember that fact as I shrugged.

    "I''ll remember this," raising his finger, Gabe threatened before running back to our room.

    "Do you know where Alan''s backpack was left, Dad?" I asked Bob. "Yeah, your brother took it to your room," the man replied, giving my shoulder one last press before walking back to the couch.

    "Let''s go get your backpack," I said to my friend, who followed me a few steps behind. "What''s all that commotion?" as we passed by Teddy''s door, it suddenly opened, letting out the usual music racket from my sister''s room.

    "Did you brought pizz¡ª" Teddy was saying but upon seeing someone she didn''t recognize in front of her, she suddenly fell silent, letting out a small, sharp scream and quickly closing her door.

    "Your sister?" Alan asked amused.

    "Yeah did you also see her face peeling off?" after nodding at my friend''s question, I asked.

    Thinking erroneously that she was safe inside her own house, Teddy, upon opening her bedroom door, had some kind of wet paper covering her face along with some tubes of plastic holding her hair in a strange hairstyle.

    "Let''s ignore the fact that my sister''s face was completely falling off; and let''s get your backpack," I continued amused, walking to my room.

    After getting my friend''s backpack, I took him to his house. After being there at least three different times, I already knew the way to get to his street by heart. "See you," before getting out of the car, Alan calmly said, bidding farewell with a fist bump.

    Standing at the beginning of his garden, it seemed like Alan wasn''t going to move until I left his street. Understanding that he possibly didn''t want me to see or hear something in his house, I reluctantly moved out of the street, watching my calm friend follow ''Debbie'' with his gaze until he was no longer visible.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and not a doctor.

    If anyone was expecting Kat to have a romantic relationship with the MC, I''m sorry, but that''s not going to happen, at least I didn''t plan in that way. Obviously, as the relationship develops, there may be mixed feelings from one or both parties, but I won''t delve into that topic. Why? It''s necessary for some points in the plot that their relationship remains a close friendship, nothing more.

    From now on, there will be a few time skips. Since I follow the timeline of the "Young Sheldon" show, there are some things that don''t align, so I''ll make them up. Certain events in the world''s development occur on specific dates, and I wouldn''t want to change those things. I may also leave out some things related to the development of the "Young Sheldon" series, simply to make my job easier.

    In terms of shows episodes, in "Young Sheldon," we''re only on Season 1, Episode 5. There are still a few chapters (of the novel) left before it jumps to Season 2 of the show to take another step in world and character development.

    I''m very interested in having the friendship with Alan evolve for future important events. Given the family I placed him in, many can probably imagine the general aspect of these events (while writing this chapter, I imagined a development with this character that I''ll have to review in my notes for what I have planned; it could be interesting or not; I read theories).

    I know what a face mask is; I have sisters, and although it may seem strange, I''ve used them. They''re really like a wet wipe for your face.

    I''m interested in knowing what you think so far. If I could divide this first volume into sections, I would say I''m about to finish the first section of this volume, with possibly two more to come.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 46

    If during the days leading up to the game, the attention to myself had begun to dissipate, the day after the game, on Friday, as I walked through the school hallways, to my utter disappointment, I was once again the center of attention of my peers; at least now it was for congratulations and excitement over the game''s victory rather than unpleasant glances.

    "I heard you guys won the game," Kat said, leaning against the closed locker next to mine, as it was becoming a daily occurrence.

    "You heard?" I asked, exaggerating an offended look. "You didn''t go to the game?" I continued.

    "Watch a bunch of troglodytes crash into each other over a ball?" Kat asked, exhaling with exaggerated arrogance. "I have better things to do," the teenager continued, cleaning her nails in front of her face.

    "Oh yeah sure, like listening to music completely alone in your room and writing songs that sadly no one else besides you will know," I said sarcastically, deducing knowing somewhat the girl''s personality.

    Apparently unable to deny my insinuation, "that was low, Duncan," Kat said, lowering her head slightly while shaking it.

    "Well, you called me a troglodyte for rules I can''t change in a game, whereas yours can easily be changed," I said arrogantly, smiling at the teenager who, finishing her act and trying to hide a growing nervousness, denied again, "they''re not ready yet," she argued, what seemed to be the tenth time in our conversations when they turned to her music.

    "For some reason, I don''t believe you," I said haughtily, closing my locker.

    "PJ," the sharp voice that I would recognize anywhere in this school called from the hallway, "Sheldon," I greeted the boy who was accompanied by an uncharacteristically annoyed Georgie, with a marked frown on his face.

    "When they''re ready, I''ll let you listen to some, I promise," taking her things from the floor next to her, Kat said as a farewell before quickly walking away through the crowd.

    "Were you with Stratford again?" Georgie asked, still with the frown on his face, but I could detect the interest behind his question.

    "Yes," I simply replied. "So, does your dad want Sheldon to help with the plays?" I quickly asked, changing the subject.

    "How do you know?" surprised, Sheldon, who was standing unusually straight for a kid, asked.

    "Well, you arrived early and with Georgie, so you came together, and since yesterday, through a small conversation with Coach Cooper, I found out that the decisive play to win the game was thanks to you, I simply deduced it," I explained, leaving out Georgie''s still present frown.

    "That was a good deductive process, I wouldn''t expect any less from you, PJ," Sheldon said, strangely proud as he nodded.

    "Well, thank you, good sir," I said, putting a hand on my chest, thanking the boy with exaggerated formality, which Sheldon imitated surely without exaggeration.

    "And don''t worry, he''s just going to help with the plays, he won''t come out to give us orders or anything like that, besides, nobody else needs to know besides us," leaning in with Georgie, I whispered, avoiding his younger brother from overhearing us.

    "Know what?" appearing suddenly by our side, impressively close as to not have noticed when Alan arrived, he asked calmly.

    "When did you arrive?" Georgie, equally surprised as I, asked.

    "A few seconds ago," opening his locker, Alan replied calmly, shrugging it off.

    "Well, we weren''t talking about anything," Georgie lied, seemingly relieved that Alan hadn''t heard our entire conversation.

    "Oh, come on, Georgie, it''s Alan, who''s he gonna tell?" I couldn''t help but say haughtily to Georgie, just to have someone to annoy him wtih me.

    Besides us three and Sheldon, I highly doubt anyone else in the school would find out that Sheldon from now on would be helping the team in the upcoming games.

    The day continued naturally until lunchtime, sitting at our usual table as every day with my friends and the relatively new addition of Kat and Mandella, separated into small subgroups talking about their topics of interest, with Kat, Mandella, and surprisingly Alan, giving me a small lecture on more musical groups and albums than I kept in my car''s glove compartment.

    "Hey! Duncan," interrupting our conversation suddenly from behind me, someone cheerfully said as they passed their arm over my shoulder.

    "Oh, was it Joey?" I said, recognizing the teenager and for some reason, I began to feel a faint headache.

    "Yeah, Joey Donner," the teenager said, smiling widely, greeting those present at the table who looked puzzled by his abrupt arrival.

    "What do you need, Joey?" I asked, removing his arm from my shoulder as he practically had to lean all his weight on me since I was sitting.

    "Just to give you this," stretching out his other hand with an arrogant smile, he handed me some sort of brochure, "a party to celebrate the team''s victory, my parents won''t be in town this weekend so it''s gonna be awesome," Joey said with great excitement, awkwardly tapping my arm, "obviously all of you are invited too," he said, addressing the other people at the table as the teenager continued to distribute more papers.

    The paper the teenager had handed over was surprisingly an invitation printed with an address and time.

    "Maybe I mentioned to a couple of people that you''d be there," the teenager said, tapping my shoulder again. "So I''d really appreciate it if you came; after all, you owe me," he asserted shamelessly. "Well, see you all there," before I could ask what he meant, the teenager quickly moved to another table, seemingly repeating the process.

    "I owe him?" I asked incredulously to my friends at the table, showing them the ''invitation'' in my hand.

    "It doesn''t sound too bad," David said, holding the same invitation in his hand.

    "You''ve skipped enough parties, SuperStar," Brock added. "If you don''t owe it to Donner, you owe it to us," grabbing Georgie and David on either side, he continued.

    "You don''t want to be a social outcast, at least not more than you already are," Kat argued, seizing the opportunity to tease.

    "Are you going too?" I asked Alan beside me, who simply shrugged. "No, no, if I go, you''re going too. I''ll swing by for you tomorrow," I said, leaving no room for argument.

    At the hospital, it seemed that House had somehow managed to stay in the obstetrics lounge to watch his soap operas without being disturbed, and with no cases requiring the team''s attention, there was nothing much to do. Therefore, like other days, I spent most of my time studying in the hospital library as well as watching numerous surgical procedures and practicing whatever I could in the skill lab.

    The next day, being Saturday, apart from waking up later than usual, nothing changed from my daily routine. "PJ, can we go to the comic book store?" Gabe asked from the living room couch while we watched one of his cartoons.

    "Yeah, sure, why not," taking the remote and turning off the TV, I said, getting up and walking towards the front door with my little brother following me excitedly.

    Outside the house, we found Sheldon sitting on the front porch of his own house, working intently in a notebook with several papers in his lap. "Hey Sheldon, we''re going to the comic book store, do you want to come?" I asked the boy after greeting him.

    "Oh yeah," quickly setting aside everything he had with him, the boy responded just as excitedly as Gabe, quickly walking, but still with surprisingly straight posture, towards where we were.

    "No, first, tell your mom," stopping the eager boy in his tracks, I ordered.

    "Right," understanding the gravity of my order, Sheldon turned on his heels, walking back to his house.

    "Why did you invite him?" annoyed, Gabe asked.

    "Oh, come on, Gabe, he likes comics too, I thought you''d already warmed up to him," I said to the boy, scolding him with a gentle tap on the back of his head.

    "Okay," still grumbling, Gabe said.

    "PJ, Gabe," from the Cooper''s house, Mrs. Cooper with her almost always present kind smile greeted us.

    "Hi, Mrs. Cooper," I greeted the woman, echoed by my younger brother.

    "Sheldon says you''re going to the comic book store and that he''s invited," the woman said quietly, asking if it was true.

    "Oh yes, don''t worry, Mrs. Cooper, we''ll be there for one or two hours top," I assured her.

    "Well, that''s perfect, thank you very much, PJ," joining her hands cheerfully, the woman said before calling Sheldon.

    "Let''s go," excited, Sheldon joined us, waiting for me to open the car so he could get in the back.

    "Do you have your seatbelt on, Sheldon?" after making sure Gabe had his on, I asked the boy in the back of the car.

    "It''s the third thing I do when I get in a car," Sheldon said seriously, "the first two are making sure the driver is competent and then the structural viability of the car," he added, apparently feeling the need to explain.

    "I''m glad you find me competent," I said to the boy before starting the car.

    "You''re going too fast," a few seconds after moving forward, Sheldon said with concern.

    Ignoring the boy, I turned up the volume of the music in the car.

    Reading comics along with playing sports were things I hadn''t experienced, and as I did, I was starting to enjoy them. Plus, it was an activity to do with Gabe that didn''t involve getting dirty again.

    After what was probably a couple of hours, I decided it was time to head back home. "Can I take a comic home?" Gabe asked after agreeing it was time to go home. "Can I too?" seizing the opportunity, Sheldon also asked.

    Seeing the two eager children in front of me, "I''ll tell you what, if you promise to clean my car tomorrow, you can each take two comics," after thinking for a few seconds, I offered.

    The offer was tempting for the children; it seemed Sheldon was about to blindly accept, but Gabe stopped him, dragging him away from me for a few seconds.

    "Make it three each, and you have a deal," Gabe said seriously as Sheldon nervously stood behind him.

    "Three comics each, and you clean ''Debbie'' inside and out, including the trunk," I countered.

    Sheldon now much more nervous shuffled behind Gabe on his feet, while my brother seemed to consider the offer, spinning with the other boy, they seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes before Gabe turned back to me, "you have a deal," he said, raising his hand for a handshake, which I gladly accepted, and we repeated with Sheldon.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "You have two minutes to pick your comics, or the deal''s off," raising my hand with the watch, I said.

    Gabe, who had already experienced this, quickly ran to one of the shelves, while Sheldon, not having experienced this before, stood still, completely surprised. "Time''s ticking, Sheldon," I said, shaking my wrist, causing the boy to snap out of his trance as he ran like my brother to where the comics were organized.

    Two minutes was really more than enough time, at least for Gabe, who chose his comics without much trouble. Sheldon, on the other hand, used the entire time limit while he debated the pros and cons of choosing one comic over another on his own.

    After paying for the kids'' comics, we returned home.

    "Hey, Dad," I greeted Bob as we entered the house, finding him comfortably watching TV in the living room, where he was watching some kind of documentary about ants.

    "So, there''s a party today, and I was wondering if..." I was saying, but Bob interrupted me. "Sure, just come home before the sun comes up," Bob said, laughing.

    "Really?" I asked, surprised by how quickly and disinterestedly he agreed.

    "Of course, your mom and I trust you. Besides, you practically live in a hospital outside the house, so you know the risks of being stupid," Bob explained, lowering the volume of the TV when ads interrupted his documentary. "Actually, we were worried that you never go out. For a moment, we thought you were sneaking out at night," the man confessed.

    "So, you''re glad I''m going out?" I asked, surprised.

    "Of course, your mother and I are happy with your improvement in school, PJ, and your interest in medicine, but you''re a teenager. Behave like one occasionally, just one with a brain," he clarified seriously.

    "Okay, thanks, Dad," I said, still puzzled, walking to my room. It seemed I wasn''t behaving like a regular teenager; again, House was right, I needed to spend more time with my friends.

    A few hours later outside, as we had discussed the day before, Georgie was waiting, apparently hidden behind the fence separating our houses from his.

    "What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled by his behavior.

    "I lied to my mom, I told her we were going to Brock''s house," Georgie admitted in a whisper.

    "Why?" I asked, intrigued by the reason for his lie.

    "We can''t go dancing, it''s a silly rule from mom," Georgie replied, annoyed; so it was for some religious reason.

    "Well, I did ask for permission for the party, so if your mom asks mine, she''ll find out," I said, bursting his bubble of ignorance.

    "That''ll be a problem for the future," after thinking about it worriedly for a few seconds, Georgie said resolutely before walking strangely to ''Debbie,'' as if he didn''t want to seem suspicious.

    "Whatever you say," I said amused, walking to ''Debbie,'' opening the doors before speeding out of our street towards Alan''s house.

    Upon arriving at Alan''s house, before I could turn off the car''s engine and get out to ring the doorbell, the glass on Georgie''s side was tapped, surprising both of us at once; outside the window, Alan was equally calm as always, standing.

    "No way, he wasn''t there when we arrived, how does he do it?" Georgie asked, surprised. "I don''t know," I replied, equally surprised, before Georgie opened his door and got out to arrange the seat so Alan could get into the back.

    During the drive, despite Georgie''s insistence, Alan didn''t deign to respond to how he had reached the window without us noticing; with Alan, my usual skill of observation usually didn''t work, but there were few times I could distinguish a small amused smile, and it was when he managed to surprise someone.

    Following a small map of the city that I kept in the glove compartment, we arrived at the street indicated on the ''invitation'' Joey had handed out; it was a street with beautiful houses and expensive-looking cars in front of each house, obviously a street of wealthy people.

    In front of the house where the party obviously was, a bunch of cars were parked with dozens of teenagers with cups swaying slightly to the music that we could still hear inside the car despite the windows being up.

    Parking ''Debbie,'' we all got out of the car before entering the house, greeting a bunch of teenagers I didn''t know, but they knew me; likewise, receiving kisses dangerously close to the lips from a few of the girls I passed, who shared a bit of alcoholic breath.

    Inside the house, I moved with Alan among the people, as Georgie immediately separated, following one of the girls present at the party, until we reached what seemed to be a living room. "Duncan, you made it!" obviously a little drunk, Joey happily shouted, spilling some of the contents of his cup as he moved, "look, it''s Duncan!" he cheerfully shouted to a group of people beside him before walking towards me.

    "Be careful with that, looks like you''ve had enough already," subtly taking the cup from his hand, I said while greeting the teenager.

    "Yeah, I was a bit nervous, so I had a few drinks," the teenager admitted, "here, grab one, they''re in the kitchen, Stratford''s in there too," he continued before shouting and joining his guests.

    "Thanks," amused, I said to the teenager, handing the cup in my hand to another teenager passing by.

    "Let''s go find Kat?" turning to ask Alan, I didn''t find my calm friend, even though I could swear he was there a second ago.

    Ignoring my friend''s sudden disappearance, I walked again among a bunch of teenagers until I reached the kitchen, where I found Kat with her friend Mandella, both with drinks in their hands as they moved playfully to the rhythm of the music.

    Mandella, who was in front of the kitchen door, saw me enter before informing Kat and pointing me out, now behind her distracted friend, Mandella after saying something else to Kat, separated, giving me a big thumbs up as she danced among the crowd of people.

    "I thought you''d be in a library at this hour," speaking loudly by my ear, Kat sarcastically said.

    Ignoring her joke, I took the glass in her hand, bringing it to my nose to discern its contents, obviously alcohol, while I looked at my friend with the best disappointed expression I could muster. I reacted too late when she quickly grabbed the glass from my hand again, "have some fun, dad," shouting again next to my ear, Kat arrogantly said, emphasizing the last word before taking a big sip of her drink.

    "Let''s go, smart pants," pulling my arm, she shouted as she danced out of the kitchen dragging me along with her.

    I could understand all the fuss about parties and teenagers; after a few minutes of being forced by Kat to dance to the music''s rhythm, I actually started having fun.

    Several songs later, exhausted from having fun with Kat, we walked back to the living room where surprisingly I found my friends sitting among a bunch of other teenagers mixed of both men and women.

    "SuperStar!" Brock exclaimed excitedly, looking up at me from the floor. "It''s true, you came!" David added, equally excited. Suddenly, one of the girls near the circle on the floor dragged me into an empty space, forcing me to sit next to Brock, who helped the girl support me tightly under his arm.

    The girl who had dragged me quickly moved to the other side of the circle, where a small group of girls allowed her to sit. "What''s happening?" I asked my friend, watching as the same girl prepared in the center of the circle to spin a bottle.

    "It''s just the best game ever," Brock laughed for some reason, tightening his grip.

    The bottle spun for a few seconds until it stopped, pointing to another teenager who cheered, unlike the girl who spun the bottle, who lowered her head in disappointment.

    "What..." I was asking, but the two teenagers approached and kissed in the center of the circle amidst the cheers of encouragement from the others.

    "Yeah, no," understanding the game, I said, trying to get up but unable to do so because of Brock''s strong grip. "No, they weren''t so excited to spin a minute ago," Brock explained loudly in my ear pointing to the girls on the other side, keeping me by his side.

    The bottle spun several more times, fortunately not stopping in my direction. I managed to free myself from Brock''s grip when it was his turn to spin the bottle, which I immediately took advantage of because, following the logic of the game, it would soon be my turn to spin.

    In one of the sofas in the house, Alan, who was watching the game, was sitting quietly with a small smile on his face and a bowl of some snacks. "You''re lucky," he said when I sat next to him, loud enough for me to hear. "Yeah," I admitted relieved, taking a potato chip from the bowl. "Did you see where Kat went?" remembering that I had been pulled away from my friend, I asked.

    Alan, amusedly watching as Brock excitedly moved with all the grace his robust body allowed towards a teenager who, with some reluctance, also approached my friend, simply pointed behind the sofa.

    Kat, again with Mandella, was dancing happily in the center of the house.

    Talking to Alan, who surprisingly had a great knowledge of music, about the songs playing on the speakers in the house, we continued to watch amusedly as our friends kept playing the bottle game while the girls involved in the game one by one started to leave until the number of boys far outnumbered the girls.

    When the bowl of chips ran out, I realized it was quite late when I looked at my watch. "Do you want to leave?" I asked Alan, who nodded without really caring. "I''ll go to the bathroom, I''ll see you in your car in five," Alan said, getting up.

    Taking the bowl to the kitchen, I found a bunch of people at the door apparently excitedly watching something, pushing the few teenagers at the door aside, I entered the kitchen where Kat was dancing carelessly on top of an kitchen island.

    That''s dangerous. Quickly leaving the bowl in the sink, I approached Kat, grabbing her by the legs and lifting her onto my shoulder. "PJ, what are you doing?" obviously drunk, Kat said, moving uncomfortably on my shoulder.

    "I''m preventing you from breaking your neck," walking towards the back door of the house in the kitchen, I said with the teenager still on my shoulder, "where''s Mandella?" I asked when I was outside the house, walking towards where I was parked.

    "I told her to go, I''m sleeping here," Kat said, outside the house, even though you could still hear the music, it was much quieter now, "she left?" I asked worriedly, "did she drive?" I continued.

    "No, she left with her parents," Kat explained as she hummed the song.

    "And she left you here?" I asked again incredulously, "how were you going to get home?"

    "I was going to call home tomorrow," she explained shamelessly as if it were obvious, "yeah, no," I said, walking to the front yard of the house, leaving the teenager on the ground again to search for my keys, "hey, idiot!" from the house behind me, someone suddenly shouted, surprising me.

    Turning around, I found an annoyed teenager walking directly towards me. "Are you talking to..." I was asking, but the teenager, without letting me finish, punched me right next to my eye. "What?" stepping back with a burning sensation on my face, I said incredulously, trying to understand what was happening, "she''s done with you, stop bothering her," the annoyed teenager said advancing towards me again.

    Altered by the pain in my face and trying to understand what was happening, as I tried to move away from the strangely angry teenager, I stumbled over my own feet, almost falling.

    "I don''t know who you are," I said nervously, dodging the blows from the now obviously drunk teenager.

    "Stay away from Regina," he said again and immediately I recognized him; he was the blond teenager who accompanied Regina the day Gabe and I found her. Unable to defend myself, the teenager threw another punch that I couldn''t avoid, hitting my face again, and if the taste of blood could say something, it opened my lip.

    Unable to move further to avoid the fight, bumping into a car, I closed my fist, hitting the drunk teenager''s face.

    I had never hit anyone before; even the punching bag that Bob had brought along with the weights was still hanging from the garage ceiling as it arrived, never in my previous life had it occurred to me to use my hands for anything other than sewing wounds or stopping bleeding.

    As I hit the teenager''s face, I felt an immediate pain in my fist. "Ow," I complained, stupidly holding my hand, turning my back on the still angry teenager.

    "Don''t go, you damn coward," I heard the guy shout, turning quickly to try to avoid any other blow directed at me, fortunately, I didn''t have to worry.

    Alan appearing again out of nowhere with surprising ease used the momentum of the angry guy''s blow to carry him over his shoulder and forcefully hit him on the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.

    "Are you okay?" studying my face seriously, Alan asked, ignoring the still painful teenager on the ground, "I was about to defeat him," now out of danger, feeling the stinging pain in my face and in my fist, I said jokingly.

    "Yeah, I could see that," sarcastically, Alan said, looking at the teenager on the ground without being impressed, taking my hand to inspect it, "it''s not broken," Alan said.

    I could tell.

    "Let''s go, give me your keys," he ordered, pointing to Georgie who was behind him with a bunch of teenagers who until now I realized were there witnessing everything incredulously.

    Handing over my keys to my usually calm friend along with Kat, who looked worried between the two, I entered the back of ''Debbie'' while Kat, much more sober, began to check me nervously, "what was wrong with that jerk?" she asked angrily as she moved my face from side to side.

    "I don''t know, he''s Regina''s boyfriend..." I was saying what I knew, but Kat angrily interrupted me, "that damn lying bitch, I knew that show wasn''t all she was going to do, she''s a witch," furious Kat said, pressing forcefully where the teenager had hit me without realizing it.

    Pulling away from her hand, I exclaimed in pain, "I''m sorry," embarrassed, Kat said, clasping her hands.

    "Don''t worry," I said, calming the girl, "seeing a caveman hit me for no reason, how''s that for spending your day?" I asked, teasing her about what she had told me the day before.

    "Don''t say nonsense," Kat said, laughing uncontrollably and pushing my arm.

    "Ah, I''m injured, remember?" I said, exaggerating the pain even though I hadn''t received any other blows besides the one to my face.

    "Yeah, why didn''t you defend yourself?" frustrated, Kat said.

    "Hey, I threw a punch," offended for some reason, I said.

    "And it was a great punch," Georgie added from the front of the car, "until it hurt you," he added, laughing lightly.

    "Yeah, you''re supposed to close your fist tightly, you didn''t have it completely closed, that''s why it hurt, also your wrist wasn''t straight enough, if you had hit with more force, you could have broken it," Alan calmly said from the driver''s seat.

    "Sorry for not knowing how to hit a person," I said incredulously, making Kat and Georgie laugh lightly.

    Reluctantly, Kat was the first to be taken home, who, due to the shock of the ''fight'', was much soberer than before and managed to enter her house quietly before we left the place.

    "Mind if I stay at your place?" Alan asked as I lay in the back seat, now feeling the incredibly unbearable pain in my face.

    "Obviously, you can stay," I said, trying to distract myself from the pain in my face.

    Arriving at my house, Alan and Georgie, who with whom I was supposed to be with at Brock''s house, entered as quietly as possible. "Hey, champ," in the living room, watching TV silently, Bob, who was probably listening for the door, said. "Everyone''s sleeping," he said quietly as he stood up, "how did it go?" he asked, turning with a big smile that quickly faded when he saw my face.

    "Great?" I said, trying to smile, stopping with pain.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and not a doctor.

    He does not know how to fight, Is anyone surprised by this? I hope not, because throughout the course of the story, I''ve left many clues about it.

    I''ve never been to an American party (specifically in Texas in 1990), but I''ve seen many movies and the party in episode 5 of Young Sheldon, so that was my attempt at a 1990 party in a small town in Texas.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 47

    Note:

    Just testing out some theories from some readers.

    200k Words.

    Thank you all for reading all this nonsense that I write, from the beginning of the novel I made it clear that writing is something I do to practice and now it is something that I enjoy doing every day, I hope you will accompany me for the rest of the time that I will continue writing.

    To many more words. Enjoy.

    ---

    "What the hell happened to your face?" Bob asked, walking around the sofa and dodging it, for a moment raising his voice before whispering again, "Did you get into a fight?"

    "Calling it a fight would be an exaggeration really," I said somewhat embarrassed, "it was just some drunk idiot, and it probably looks worse than it is," trying to downplay the matter, I continued to lightly touch my eye, which I could feel getting more swollen.

    "That''s definitely going to leave a mark," Bob said, moving closer to get a better look, shaking his head slightly. "Let''s put some ice on it," he continued, "by the way, hey guys, at least you look fine," Bob greeted my friends Alan and Georgie beside me, seemingly just remembering they were there.

    "Hello, Mr. Duncan," surprisingly synchronized, Alan and Georgie greeted back.

    "Can they stay until tomorrow?" walking with everyone towards the kitchen, I asked Bob, who immediately nodded. "Of course, this is their home," Bob said as he entered the kitchen.

    Sitting at the kitchen table, before I could reach for the bag of frozen vegetables Bob was offering me, he stopped my hand. "Well, at least you stood up for yourself," Bob said, looking at my bruised knuckles, a strange hint of pride in his voice before releasing my hand again.

    Georgie, who quietly took a seat next to me at the table, seemingly unable to help it, let out a small snort, which immediately ceased as he was swiftly hit by Alan next to him.

    "What?" Bob asked, puzzled, looking at the now embarrassed Georgie.

    "My punch might have hurt me more than him," I admitted again, for some reason feeling ashamed.

    Violence was something I never really had to resort to. Being a paramedic in Los Angeles could occasionally be dangerous, and while undoubtedly hearing horror stories at work, fortunately, nothing besides occasionally having to restrain a patient ever happened to me.

    "What?" Bob asked again, surprised this time, "but I taught you how to..." he was saying until he stopped, undoubtedly remembering my ''amnesia''.

    "It wasn''t his fault; the guy attacked him when he was distracted, and he luckily managed to land another punch after the first sucker punch," Alan said calmly, backing me up.

    "Oh yeah, and then you tossed him like in that WWE program," Georgie, surely recalling what had happened, said excitedly.

    "Just a wrestling move," to Bob''s surprised look, presumably understanding Georgie''s reference, Alan calmly said.

    "But I don''t understand, why did he hit you?" after a few seconds, Bob asked.

    "Honestly, I don''t know," I said immediately, tilting my now sore head, "I know he''s Regina''s new boyfriend."

    "Regina?" Bob asked.

    "His ex," Georgie explained pointing to me.

    "Oh," remembering, Bob nodded for me to continue.

    "He said something about staying away from her," remembering the incident, I said.

    "So, are you trying to get her back?" Bob asked interestedly.

    "Oh no, not at all," I quickly responded.

    "She was there at the party," suddenly Alan said, "maybe you did something without realizing it," he added.

    "She was there?" surprised, I asked, "I didn''t see her all night," I admitted.

    "Then it was possibly her move," Bob said, shrugging, "that''s something women do," he continued, "don''t tell your mother I said that," he added a moment later, worried.

    "I don''t know," I said, but I could really see Regina doing something like that.

    "Well, and besides the Light-Heavyweight world championship, how was the party?" sitting down in one of the chairs, Bob asked and we told him what had happened, especially Georgie and I.

    "Well, guys, great chat, but it''s getting pretty late," after recounting the party to Bob, with certain points ignored, Bob said, looking at the kitchen clock, "make yourselves at home," he pointed to my friends kindly, "and you keep that ice on your face so it doesn''t get worse. Hopefully, you can think of something smart to tell your mother to explain that," pointing at my face, Bob shook his head and continued, "I''m going to bed."

    "Night, Mr. Duncan," Georgie and Alan said again.

    Leaving the now not-so-frozen vegetables in the refrigerator, I silently signaled to my friends to follow me to my room, where with blankets and pillows, each improvised a bed on the carpet since it was colder in the living room.

    Sleeping was difficult as the pain in my face prevented me from moving my head, and forcing my eyes shut only made the bruises hurt more.

    At some point during the night, I managed to sleep, but unfortunately, it felt like just a few minutes before a short scream of pain followed by another scream of surprise woke me up. "What''s happening?" I asked, moving with pain as I tried to see in the still-dark room.

    "There''s someone on the floor," Gabe said.

    "He stepped on my face," came the voice I recognized as Georgie''s.

    "Who''s that?" Gabe asked nervously.

    "I''m Georgie," my annoyed friend responded.

    "Sorry," Gabe apologized as he seemed to move a moment later, opening the bedroom door and leaving, presumably to the bathroom.

    "I mean, why do you put your face where he''s going to walk?" joking with Georgie, I said, "learn from Alan, he''s in the corner," turning on the lamp next to my bed, I pointed to my other friend, "still asleep," I said, seeing the completely straight teenager who slept impressively still in the corner of the room.

    "Yeah, my butt," grabbing his pillow, annoyed, Georgie threw it at my still-sleeping friend, who in a highly unlikely act, caught the pillow before it hit his face.

    Seeing the pillow now in his hand, Alan sighed, putting it next to him, hiding it between the wall and his body before falling back asleep as fast as he had woken up.

    "How?" sharing a look with me, Georgie asked incredulously.

    "I don''t know," laughing lightly at the absurdity of the situation, I said before forcing myself to stop laughing due to the pain in my face.

    After Gabe returned from the bathroom, this time with Georgie''s face out of his way, I turned off the light again, managing to sleep faster than before.

    The next day I woke up early in the morning out of habit, unfortunately still with pain in my face.

    Knowing I couldn''t go back to sleep due to the pain, I slowly got up, trying not to wake up those still sleeping in the room, Gabe and Georgie, while grabbing a pair of sunglasses I had never worn before.

    In the bathroom mirror, I could see the result of the two blows to my face. It was obvious I would have a black eye, but it was still a novelty for me.

    Taking a pill from Mom''s kit, I walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I drank the pill down, I glanced out of the backyard window and saw Alan sitting on one of the garden chairs, calmly staring ahead without barely moving.

    Slowly, trying not to make any noise, I exited through the kitchen''s back door, planning to scare my silent friend in revenge. "Good morning, PJ," when I was a few steps away from achieving my goal, Alan, with a touch of arrogance in his voice, said.

    "Oh, that''s not fair," dragging one of the garden chairs before sitting down, I said annoyed, "I heard you from the moment you filled the water glass," Alan said with a faint hint of amusement.

    "Yeah, yeah, show-off," lightly tapping his shoulder, I said, "what are you doing out here? You know, you can watch TV, right? It''s more interesting than a bunch of grass."

    "No, I''m good," my friend replied, "how''s the eye?" he asked, obviously changing the subject.

    "I''ll hide it under sunglasses; I doubt anyone will notice that I suddenly wear sunglasses," sarcastically pointing to my damaged eye, I said while showing him the sunglasses hanging from my shirt.

    "Sounds like a plan to me," Alan mocked, dripping with irony.

    After my friend said that, we remained in a comfortable silence for a few moments, peacefully watching the garden.

    "No seriously, what are you doing out here?" I asked again. It was quiet and peaceful outside, yes, but it was also cold.

    "I was supposed to train," Alan weakly admitted, "but today, I just didn''t feel like it for some reason," looking back at the house behind us, he continued.

    "Do you train at this hour?" I asked, seizing Alan''s sudden openness. Usually, my friend could easily talk about really irrelevant topics in his life; he had extensive knowledge in many different things and had no problem discussing them. But when the conversation was about a personal topic, there were very few times I could get anything out of him.

    "A couple of hours earlier," after a moment of silence, Alan weakly said.

    Which means he wakes up several hours before the sun rises, or his father make him do so.

    Knowing it wasn''t a topic my friend was willing to talk about, again I remained silent. I knew something strange was going on with his father, being still active in the military and from what Baja had said, a Vietnam War veteran who really saw action. It wouldn''t be strange if the man suffered from PTSD or something similar, but I couldn''t press Alan to talk about it; that would only push him away.

    Thinking about my silent friend''s situation and theorizing about what could be happening in his house inevitably reminded me of all the physical feats I had seen him perform, leading to an idea. I didn''t want to go through a situation where I couldn''t defend myself again, so maybe "Alan, maybe you could..." I was saying, but "no," Alan firmly interrupted me.

    "You don''t even know what I was going to ask you," I said, "you were going to ask me to teach you how to fight," Alan argued.

    "No, I was going to ask if you wanted to make breakfast," I said sarcastically, "okay, yes, I was going to ask that, but it wouldn''t be to fight, just to be able to defend myself. I''m not going around looking for fights with anyone," I continued after my friend gave me a strange look, defending myself by deducing the reason for his refusal.

    "I don''t care about that," shaking his head slowly, Alan said, "I just don''t want to teach you, or anyone else, what he taught me," in one of the few moments I could discern something in my friend''s expression, Alan refused again with a touch of sadness in his face, obviously thinking about something.

    "Well, that just leaves me with a few options then, learning from movies, finding a place to teach me, or Sheldon," jokingly I said without insisting on the subject. If he didn''t want to, I wouldn''t force him to do it.

    "Sheldon?" with one of his small smiles, Alan asked.

    "Oh, it may not seem like it, but the boy could easily be an X-Men," standing up, I said, "come on, talking about breakfast made me hungry. Yesterday we only had potato chips for dinner. Besides, maybe if I make breakfast for Mom, she''ll ignore my eye," I continued, with little hope.

    Working alone, as surprisingly Alan had no idea how to cook anything, following instructions on the pancake boxes and cooking some bacon and eggs, I made breakfast for everyone in the house while chatting with Alan about movies and books, topics in which my friend was surprisingly well-versed.

    "That smells really good," some time after I started cooking, Teddy, still in her pajamas with disheveled hair, entered, rubbing her eyes as she seemed still sleepy. "Oh, PJ, are you making breakfast?" seeing only me, my sister asked.

    "Yes, sit down, it''s almost ready," I replied, "good morning, by the way," flipping one of the pancakes, I said, causing Teddy to repeat, still sleepy.

    "Good morning," Alan, sitting out of Teddy''s line of sight, also said quietly.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "Good morning," Teddy repeated as she dragged a chair.

    In silence, Alan and I shared a glance before staring intently at my sister, who after a few seconds quickly turned her head back to my friend, who was calmly drinking orange juice and repeating his first encounter with my friend, screaming loudly before running out of the kitchen hiding her face.

    "Is that going to keep happening?" I asked amusedly, not receiving a response from my friend.

    My sister''s scream obviously woke everyone in the house, possibly even the neighbors. Like her, surely smelling the breakfast I had made, one by one they began to arrive in the kitchen, Georgie and Gabe being the first followed a few minutes later by Bob, who upon seeing my face and the sunglasses hanging from my shirt, silently ordered me to wear them.

    Mom arrived later, her pregnancy becoming increasingly noticeable due to her short stature, a fact that Bob had warned us many times not to announce.

    "Hello, everyone. Alan, Georgie, I''m so glad you''re here," the small woman greeted cheerfully as she dragged a chair, "everything smells delicious. I hope PJ didn''t make you do anything. You''re guests, and I''m so sorry I didn''t make you breakfast," the woman continued.

    "Don''t worry, Mom, I did everything," behind her, trying to hide my face as much as possible, I said.

    "Oh, how sweet of you," turning her body to try to talk to me face to face, Mom said as I did my best to avoid her gaze, much to the amusement of my younger brother.

    "Enjoy your breakfast, please," putting my hands on the woman''s shoulders weakly, I forced her not to turn, "oh, then no mind if I do," Mom cheerfully said, serving herself food, "why don''t you sit down, honey?" trying to turn again after a few seconds, Mom asked me.

    There was no way to avoid it. Slowly walking to one of the free chairs as far away from Mom as possible, hiding my face, trying and failing in the attempt to not look suspicious, mentally preparing for what was about to come from the hormonal woman due to her pregnancy when the kitchen door opened, and Teddy, much more groomed even with very little makeup, entered the kitchen.

    "Oh, hi, I didn''t know we had visitors," smiling, Teddy greeted everyone at the table, clearly ignoring what happened several minutes ago.

    "Hi, sweetheart, good morning, is that makeu..." Mom greeted Teddy, looking at the teenager with intrigue before being interrupted, "what happened to your face, PJ?" my sister quickly changed the subject.

    "Someone kicked his butt," bursting into laughter, Gabe, who had been eagerly watching everything, shouted amused.

    Feeling betrayed, I shook my head slightly, staring at Teddy, who claimed to be my sister, as I saw my pregnant mother widen her eyes upon seeing my poorly hidden face behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

    "Would you believe me if I said I hit my door when opening it?" looking at Mom skeptically, I said causing Bob, who remained silent the entire time, slapped his hand against his forehead.

    I expected a scolding from the woman, which unfortunately didn''t happen. With concern, she quickly got up and walked towards me to remove the sunglasses from my face and begin inspecting the bruises, giving endless speeches of concern about my well-being and cursing whoever caused the damage.

    After several attempts stopped by Bob and me to take me to the emergency room, the woman, furious with a teenager she didn''t know, finally calmed down, returning to her place now throwing endless questions about the reason behind my bruises, which I summarized quickly and skipped some details, already embarrassed enough.

    After making sure Mom dropped the matter, I saw Gabe, with a strip of bacon in his hand, maintaining a big smile on his face, accompanied by Teddy, who was also breakfasting with a big smile.

    "I''m going to take Alan home, and then you can go get Sheldon to clean my car," starting my breakfast, I reminded Gabe, managing to wipe the smile off his face, "remember, inside and out. I''ll be watching you."

    Staring at Teddy intently, I silently promised to get back at her betrayal.

    After finishing breakfast, Georgie, thanking for his stay, went back to his own house, probably to sleep more judging by his demeanor.

    Leaving Alan watching cartoons with a dejected Gabe in the living room, I prepared to take him home after I take a comforting hot shower and applying some pain relief gel that Mom had in her room.

    In the car outside Alan''s house, "See you tomorrow at school," I said as my friend got out. "Yeah," Alan replied calmly, fist-bumping me as a farewell. "You''ll find someone to teach you, I''m sure," Alan added, his voice tinged with what I could discern as regret.

    "Yeah, I hope so," I said, trying to avoid making my friend feel bad about it.

    Like last time, Alan stood in front of his house until I was out of sight.

    Returning home, I took the TV remote and turned off the set, surprising Gabe who was engrossed in his cartoons, looking around for the culprit who turned it off.

    Meeting my gaze, the pronounced furrow on Gabe''s forehead quickly disappeared, and seemingly accepting his defeat, he stood up with his head down, walking out of the house towards the Cooper''s.

    Cleaning ''Debbie'' was a torturous process, at least for Gabe. Sheldon, strangely enjoying meticulously cleaning every small part of the car, took his time, even correcting Gabe''s method. They took so long cleaning just the exterior of the car that at some point, Billy Sparks, the chicken kid, had appeared and was immediately dragged by Gabe to help follow Sheldon''s insistent orders, which he did without any problem, always with his ever-present smile.

    When they finished cleaning the car, feeling sorry for Billy, I paid him what would have cost me three comics since the kid technically wasn''t part of the deal.

    Seeing the boy happily heading home, not really sure if he understood what the money was for, I indicated for him to tell his father what he had done and to show him what he had earned so he could buy something for himself.

    I knew that the next day I would again be the subject of indiscreet looks, if they didn''t already know the whole school would find out by the end of the day.

    With my dark sunglasses on, I quickly walked through the halls to my locker where Kat was apparently already waiting.

    "Interesting look, something new?" Kat asked playfully as I arrived at my locker. "Oh my God, your face, it''s awful," she exaggeratedly said upon seeing my face, "and you have a bruise here," she added, pointing at her own.

    "Ha ha, very funny," I dryly said, walking alongside her to open my locker.

    "Oh, come on, it was funny," Kat said, frustrated, pushing my shoulder.

    "No, not really," I countered.

    "Well, I think it was," Kat arrogantly said, leaning against one of the lockers beside me.

    The day continued, and as expected, the story of how a drunken teenager had managed to ''kick my ass'' spread throughout the school, and despite my best efforts to fly under the radar at school, I could still feel my classmates'' stares.

    At the end of the school day, without expecting anything, I quickly headed to the hospital, mentally preparing for what was to come; I knew House wouldn''t miss the opportunity to make fun of me.

    Something I hadn''t counted on when arriving at the hospital was my relationship with the nurses there. During my punishment time doing volunteer work, I had gotten to know many of the nurses who worked at the hospital. After the first one saw my face somehow faster than at school, the word had spread.

    Having to explain several times what had happened, gratefully accepting words of encouragement from many concerned women, I made my way to House''s office where he was playing with a yo-yo.

    "You''re late," the man said without taking his eyes off his toy.

    "I don''t have a schedule," I said, and it was true, I wasn''t even obligated to come.

    "Today you do, let''s go over what you''ve done, give me your notebook," House said, spinning his yo-yo one last time.

    Certain days House took the opportunity to review my progress in the ''art'' of diagnosing lies, always without warning and only by asking about what I wrote.

    When his gaze fell on my face, an extraordinarily rare genuine smile grew on his own face, "no way," he said cheerfully.

    "Yeah, get it out of your system, come on," I said, taking a seat across from him, waiting for the sarcastic comments.

    "I got nothing," House said, surprised, leaning back in his chair.

    "Really?" I asked, equally surprised.

    House simply nodded, apparently thinking of something to say. "I don''t think I can say anything more humiliating than just being you right now," he said sarcastically.

    There you have it.

    "I just want to know how it went," House continued, putting his feet up on his desk. "Let me guess, cheerleader''s new boyfriend?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

    "Yeah," I said, not bothering to be surprised by his deduction.

    "So, what, at a party, or did he come to your house?" House asked excitedly at the idea of the latter option.

    "At a party, he was drunk," I admitted.

    "And you weren''t?" House incredulously asked.

    "I was driving," I explained, "you know what, I don''t want to talk about this," changing the subject, I quickly took out my small notebook.

    "Oh, you''re not fun, that''s why you got your ass kicked," he said sarcastically, snatching the notebook from my hand, then after a deep sigh, he began to read aloud.

    Days passed, my eye and the side of my face felt a little better each day, but I still held a certain bitter feeling as I saw the visible marks in the mirror every day.

    Determined never to be defenseless again, I searched the city for places where I could learn self-defense. Medford, being a small town, didn''t really offer a wide variety of options.

    The first of the limited options was a gym for some Asian martial art, specifically Korean, judging by the small flags they had outside the building, along with many other American and Texan flags.

    Upon entering the premises one afternoon after school, I found it surprisingly crowded with a mob of young children practicing in front of an adult man, throwing punches while shouting completely different but equally intense screams.

    "Yeah, no," I muttered silently as I closed the door and returned to my car. I had nothing against martial arts; heck, I didn''t know enough about martial arts to have anything against any martial art, but being around a bunch of kids who screamed with every punch wasn''t something I was willing to do at all.

    It took several days to find something recognizable. In the commercial area of the town, hidden among a bunch of other stores, a small boxing gym was my next option.

    Despite the modest space, the facilities were good. The equipment looked, at least to my inexperienced eye, somewhat worn but well-maintained. Bags of different types and shapes hung from the ceiling, along with a small section with weights and exercise tools. There were some people training, thankfully all much older than ten years.

    "Hey, here to train?" a chubby man with a smug smile on his face asked from behind a small counter a few steps from the door.

    "I''d like that, sir," I said, much more formally than I''d have liked, feeling a bit nervous about the sounds of punches echoing in the gym.

    Obviously, my strange formality caught the man off guard. "Okay, how about this, kid? I''ll give you the first class completely free, but then you''ll have to pay," the man said.

    "Sounds perfect, thank you," I said, making the man smile even more.

    "Since you don''t have training gear, I can rent you one of the gym shorts," the man said, turning to a shelf with a bunch of stuff. "Also, if you don''t want to get hurt, you''ll need to buy wraps for your hands, elbows, and knees, a belt for your waist, your own mouthguard, and gloves," leaving the items on his desk, the man finished, still maintaining his friendly smile.

    "So, I have to buy all this for the first class? The free class?" I asked, surprised.

    "Oh yes, I don''t want you to get hurt, and to avoid that, you need to buy new wraps because the ones I have here aren''t very good," the man said with what I could recognize as feigned concern, showing the wraps. "In your hands, elbows, and knees, there are tiny, fragile bones scattered everywhere called ossiculum fragilitatis that, if not protected, could lead to limb loss," the man said with a completely straight face.

    "Ossiculum fragilitatis," I repeated, and the man nodded solemnly, obviously such a thing didn''t exist.

    "The gloves also need to be of quality because the humeropalmaris tendon always needs to be protected, or you could lose mobility in your arm," the man said again with seriousness on his face as he pointed out where the ''humeropalmaris tendon'' was located.

    It was impressive how calmly the man lied and invented anatomical parts.

    "That sounds reasonable. I''m sorry, I don''t think I ever knew your name; I''m PJ," I said, raising my hand to greet the possibly fraudulent man.

    "Randy," Randy said, taken aback, shaking my hand. "So, PJ, how do you want your payment plan for your gear?"

    "Is this your gym, Randy?" Ignoring his question, I asked the man, looking around the gym and at those who were training. It didn''t seem like people were doing the exercises wrong, although I couldn''t really discern between right and wrong.

    "Yes, it was my father''s, but he died a few days ago, so I inherited it," Randy replied, unpleasantly indifferent, smiling. "It''s a great business, I just have to show up and open shop," shamelessly, the man admitted, surely confident because he was talking to a teenager.

    So his father was the one running this. Obviously, Randy had no clue what he was talking about. It was almost pitiful that he couldn''t bother to research to lie with at least some basis.

    "If you don''t mind me asking, Randy, what did your father die from?" I asked calmly.

    "I don''t know, something with the heart. About your payments..." again, with unpleasant indifference, the man said, "that''s what I feared," raising my hand in front of his face, I interrupted his attempt, which was undoubtedly a scam, denying it with exaggerated and feigned concern.

    "Randy, you have to listen to me!" I exclaimed nervously. "The school coach had a heart attack a few days ago," I said, "the same as your father," I explained to the man, recognizing that he hadn''t understood. "That''s why we had a lecture about the dangers of that thing," I avoided the terminology, "it''s a contagious disease, but only for the family, and it has factors that increase the probability of it happening suddenly days after it happens to someone in the family, obesity being one of them," I lied, avoiding laughing as the man began to sweat profusely.

    "The symptoms can be excessive sweating, blurred vision, specifically deterioration of the right ear," since I arrived, I had begun to observe everyone in the gym, and since Randy and I were in a conversation, I noticed several things, surely due to lack of hygiene, the man would have a cerumen plug in his right ear, as he unconsciously turned his head slightly favoring his opposite ear when speaking. Also, at the base of his nose, I could see a mark from frequent use of glasses, it was a risky assumption, as it could well be just regular use of sunglasses.

    Listening to the ''symptoms'', Randy began to worry more and more visibly. "There was also something about pain in the hands," pretending to try to remember, I said, and the worried Randy, with his eyes wide open, began to look at his hands, opening and closing them slowly.

    "But I could be wrong," immediately changing my concerned attitude, I said calmly, "now about the gear..." I was saying, "we''re closed for today!" Randy shouted, interrupting me. "Everyone out, let''s go, let''s go! I have to go to the hospital," moving comically around the gym, he began to push people out of the place.

    Since my search for someone to teach me to defend myself was proving completely fruitless, I had nothing left but to try to learn on my own with Bob and Gabe.

    Bob seemed to have some notion of how to throw a punch. "My dad taught me that the best way to end a fight is to hit hard before they can hit you," in front of our own punching bag, Bob said, showing us how to close our fists.

    At least if I ever have to defend myself again, I''ll be able to hit without hurting myself too much.

    Again, days passed, the weekend came and went without anything different until the middle of the following week, just a few days before Halloween. Our house, like many others, was decorated with a bunch of ''spooky'' paraphernalia, with costumes chosen by Mom for the whole family, we were ready for a tradition of which obviously, I had no idea.

    "Oh PJ," on Wednesday, two days before Halloween, Bob stood up from the couch, seeing me enter the house cheerfully. "I might have found someone to teach you, you know," in complete silence, Bob moved his hands, boxing the air, ''he said''.

    Mom had a problem with any of her kids learning to hit another person. When she found out that Bob was ''teaching'' Gabe and me how to hit in the garage, there was an endless session of yelling directed at a dejected Bob. So, as an act of prudence, we decided to hide the fact that I was still looking for someone to teach me, at least until I find someone.

    "Oh, really? Where?" I asked, genuinely interested, lowering my voice as I walked alongside Bob out of the house and onto the street.

    "I was doing a job for a container company, they had a serious problem with rodents, very interesting and resilient animals, but there''s a catch; you just have to..." Bob was saying, and as always, when talking about his work, he started to drift off. "Dad, the point," I interrupted.

    "Oh yeah, sorry," the man apologized. "Okay, following the animal tracks, I ended up at a strange abandoned place near the company''s property," he continued. "There was a trailer there, I thought it was the guard''s or something, but in the vicinity, there were a bunch of things, boards with bandages and drawings on the walls of silhouettes, tied ropes, punching bags, and things like that," the man continued, narrating the story.

    "So, possibly, a man lived there training on his own," I said.

    "Yes, exactly. Well, I was looking for the den when I found him," with a big smile, Bob said, "at first, I was scared; he''s a pretty big guy, had muscles where I didn''t know muscles could be, and he was hanging from a structure, you know, pulling himself up," imitating the movement, Bob said, "but then he came down, and we talked for a moment; turns out he''s a very kind man," amusingly, Bob continued, "I told him about your situation, and he said he trains another person; you can go talk to him on your own, he said depending on you, he''ll train you or not," with a big smile, Bob finished.

    I had nothing to lose, except my life. The place sounded really unsafe, and a man living alone in a trailer with enough muscles to scare Bob, who is a pretty big guy, didn''t sound like something a sane person would do, but Bob was a good judge of character, I guess.

    "Thanks, Dad, I''ll see," I said, grateful to the man.

    "Well, if you go, ask for Case Walker, tell him you''re my son," tapping my shoulder lightly, Bob said before going back inside the house.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and Not a doctor.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 48

    Note:

    I''m having an issue with the worldbuilding, and I hope you can give me your recommendations. As you know (if you didn''t know, now you do), I''m following the timeline of the series Young Sheldon, but I have a problem with it.

    Right now, we''re at the time of episode 5 where there''s a time skip of 5 weeks, which we''ve already passed (in theory, we''re at the end of week 4).

    But the following episodes have certain problems with temporal continuity; there are things in the show that shouldn''t happen but do. So, this note is to warn that I might skip some episodes of Young Sheldon or make changes to some things.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    After the game we won, the coach began to show new plays to learn for the next opponents we would have. Georgie, Alan, and I knew they came from Sheldon, and even though they might seem risky and uncommon plays, I knew they came from precise mathematical analysis by the little boy.

    Days later using these plays, we won the next game of the season with surprising ease.

    The following Friday after the game, in addition to the usual congratulations for the victory the day before, as I walked through the school halls, my previous assumption about Sheldon''s anonymity in our victories proved to be incorrect.

    "The genius kid, the one who''s like ten years old, they say he invents plays using math," an excited teenager was preaching in front of a group of other astonished teenagers.

    Arriving at my locker, "So, Sheldon is your new coach?" Kat asked bluntly, apparently trying to joke as if the idea were ridiculous.

    "How does everyone know?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. I highly doubted that Coach Cooper was out there proudly announcing that the risky plays he had made were at the recommendation of his nine-year-old son.

    "I don''t know, Mandella heard it from a guy, but we thought it was a false rumor, is it true?" she asked, surprised.

    "Yeah," I replied, still thinking about how someone could have found out or who might have said it, maybe Coach Wilkins.

    "But the kid can''t run for more than twenty seconds before getting tired; you should see him in gym class," Kat said incredulously and amusedly.

    "He helps with the statistics; you can calculate which play has the highest probability of working if you have enough data and the ability to do the calculations. Sheldon is more than capable of doing that," I explained to the teenager.

    "So, he''s like a calculator?" Kat asked.

    "Basically."

    As I briefly explained to Kat how probability and statistics worked, David arrived down the school hallway, as always, the day after winning a game, my friend walked with his chest puffed up with pride, greeting people he passed with a big confident smile.

    "Hey PJ, Stratford," arriving at his locker beside ours, the teenager greeted us, "what a great day, huh?" smiling at a group of girls passing by us and being ignored, David said without losing his smile.

    "Yeah, a great day indeed. Did you hear about Sheldon?" I asked.

    "Oh yeah, did Georgie tell you too?" still trying to get the attention of any girl passing by him, David asked, "he told me yesterday after the game, and I thought it was awesome, it''s like magic."

    "More like maths," I said, causing Kat to let out a small snort, "and did you tell anyone?" I asked, still interested in finding out how the rumor had spread.

    "Oh yeah, I told Mandy, the one who sits next to me in math," shamelessly, David said.

    Bingo.

    The entire school''s attention was once again on someone, fortunately for me, it wasn''t me. Given my peers'' astonishing ability for gossip, the entire school possibly now knew that Sheldon had possibly helped with the plays for the games we won.

    The little boy, seemingly oblivious or uninterested in all the stares following him around the school, lived his day without issues, while his brother, annoyed with David all day, maintained a furrowed brow as Alan and I constantly teased him.

    In a way, it was entirely his fault that everyone in the school found out his ''secret.'' David wasn''t the smartest of our friends, which in itself is not a bad thing, but when you reveal something you don''t want anyone else to know, it''s just common sense to remind him several times that he can''t tell anyone else.

    The day passed and since it was Halloween I decided not to go to the hospital, Mom, with her festive spirit maximized by her pregnancy, had made Bob decorate the entire house, also forcing everyone in the family to wear themed costumes, for several minutes making us pose in dozens of poses for photographs before letting us go free.

    Gabe, like any other child should be, was completely excited about going trick-or-treating, changing the costume Mom had chosen for him for one of his own choice; the boy was ready to go out and get candy.

    "I invited my friends to join us, Kiddo, I have to go get them; you can come with me or wait," I said, taking the keys to ''Debbie'' still in the costume Mom had chosen.

    "Okay, but we have to be fast; the best candies might run out immediately, and I don''t know the good houses to ask," Gabe said to himself as he left the house carrying a pillowcase with him.

    For simplicity, the first one we reached was Kat, who had agreed to accompany us a few days ago to give Alan and me company while we looked after our brothers.

    Outside the Stratford''s house with Gabe, who wouldn''t miss the chance to go trick-or-treating at a ''full bar'' house, whatever that means.

    "Trick or treat!" shouted Gabe after ringing the doorbell, preparing with his pillowcase. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Mr. Stratford with a bowl of candy in hand, "You''re here early; we weren''t quite..." the man was saying until his gaze fell on me, "Duncan, what are you doing here?"

    "Hello, Dr. Stratford," I greeted the man, and before he could respond, Kat appeared, gently pushing her father aside, "I''m going out in a date with PJ," Kat said sarcastically as she smiled at Gabe, who was silently eyeing the bowl in the short man''s hands.

    "What?," Mr. Stratford said, surprised.

    "I asked Mom, and she said it was okay," taking the bowl from her father''s hand, Kat said before pouring a large amount of candy into Gabe''s bag, "see you later, Dad," returning the bowl with much fewer candies, Kat said, dragging me across their porch.

    "Doctor; we''re just going trick-or-treating with my brother and some other kids. I''ll bring her back in a few hours," being pulled along by Kat while Gabe followed us happily, digging into his bag, I bid goodbye to Mr. Stratford, feeling the need to explain to avoid any further misunderstanding with the man, who simply stood under his door, obviously surprised before slowly entering his house, apparently resigned.

    "You must be Gabe, I''ve heard a lot about you," smiling at my brother, Kat said as I opened the car and adjusted the seat for Gabe to get in.

    "I haven''t heard anything about you, but I already like you," still maintaining his smile, Gabe said, silently thanking for the candies in his possession.

    "Your dad didn''t hate me anymore," frustratedly, I said inside the car as Kat rummaged through the CDs that she had made me buy several days ago.

    "I thought it was funny, Charlie Brown," shrugging her shoulders arrogantly, Kat joked about my costume, "you need more CDs; we have to go shopping in a few days."

    "Is she your new girlfriend?" from the back seat, Gabe, who had been silent for several minutes, asked.

    "No," at the same time, Kat and I responded, "she''s my friend," I explained.

    "Oh, that''s too bad; I like her more than the other one," alongside the sound of metallic wrappers, Gabe affirmed.

    "You never met Regina, kiddo," I said, trying to see what my brother was doing through the rearview mirror.

    "Yeah, and she never gave me candies, but she did," excitedly, Gabe said pointing to Kat, "look at this, full bars," leaning over, the boy showed me a large open chocolate bar.

    Laughing at the whole interaction, Kat said nothing as she put one of the CDs, "Did you buy my brother with candies?" ironically, I asked the teenager, who without answering, turned up the volume of the speakers.

    Outside Alan''s house as we got out of the car, Gabe, who also got out to take advantage of trick-or-treating at one of my friend''s houses again, was ready to run and ring the bell until I stopped him by the shoulder.

    "Gabe, one of Alan''s brothers is a very special kid," speaking seriously to the boy, I said, "that doesn''t mean anything bad," I clarified, "it''s just that he can be much more sensitive to some things like sudden noises or bright lights," I continued, "he may also have trouble interacting, but don''t take it as an insult because it''s not, understand?" I asked, trying to make the seriousness of the matter known to the boy.

    "Yeah, he''s like Sheldon," assumed Gabe.

    "Well, you could say that, but unlike Sheldon, I don''t want you to make fun of him never, are we clear?" again, being as serious as possible, I asked the boy, squinting my eyes.

    "Yeah, don''t worry, PJ," relaxedly, Gabe affirmed.

    Before even reaching halfway to my friend''s house, the door of the house opened, revealing a little boy with a furrowed brow behind him Alan, along with another little boy with thick glasses on his face, slightly grabbed the clothing of my friend as they came out of the house.

    "Hey," greeted Alan when he was close enough.

    "Hi, how did you know we had arrived?" intrigued, I asked.

    "Braxton saw you coming," my calm friend explained, putting a hand on the head of the first child who came out.

    "So, Braxton and Christian," greeting the children, I pushed my brother slightly, "this is Gabe."

    "Hey," greeting the other kids, Gabe raised his hand slightly, only being responded to by Braxton.

    "Well, let''s go."

    Alan took a seat in the back of the car, serving as a ''barrier'' between Braxton, Gabe, who quickly became friends due to Gabe''s surprising act of sharing his candies, and Christian, who was murmuring things against the side of the car, also enjoying a candy nervously.

    Arriving home, there were very few children on the street grouped together as they asked for candies in the neighborhood houses, "hurry, PJ, the best candies," eagerly in the back of the car, Gabe said as I parked ''Debbie.''

    Gabe and Braxton, followed by a nervous Christian, ran to the Cooper''s house to call Missy and Sheldon and then to the Spark''s; I had promised their parents to keep an eye on them.

    While we waited for the little army of children to gather, Alan, Kat, and I were leaning against ''Debbie,'' talking, mostly them, about the costumes of the kids around us and their origins.

    "You really are like a caveman; how is it possible that you don''t know who the ninja turtles or the Flintstones are?" teasingly, Kat asked.

    "I know Scooby-Doo," pointing to a kid dressed as a dog in the distance, I said, trying to defend myself.

    "My mother knows Scooby-Doo," Kat replied incredulously, "do you really do nothing but read books and exercise?" rhetorically, the teenager asked again.

    "PJ!" Missy, dressed in a glittery pink dress, shouted cheerfully as she was followed by the other kids.

    "Like my costume? I''m a Valerian princess," showing her dress, pushing Kat, who was next to me, Missy asked.

    "You''re totally a Valerian princess," I replied, avoiding laughing at Kat''s reaction to being pushed by Missy.

    "Hello, Sheldon, or should I say Nikola Tesla?" I asked, seeing the boy dressed formally with a fake mustache and extravagant hair.

    "Correct, I knew you''d get it," excitedly, Sheldon said, inclining his head slightly.

    "I''m a cowboy," alongside them, Billy Sparks, with his ever-present smile, exclaimed.

    "Perfect Billy, well, let''s go get some candies," I said, smiling at the innocent boy.

    "I think I gave my candies away too quickly," walking beside me in a whisper, Kat said.

    "What''s wrong, Stratford, are you scared of a nine-year-old girl?" smiling arrogantly, I asked.

    "You haven''t seen how she looks at me," rigidly, Kat said, pointing her eyes fixed ahead.

    Ahead of us, accompanying the other children, Missy walked cheerfully, turning every so often with a great hatred towards Kat.

    "Oh yeah, that can''t be good," I said, amused by the sudden rivalry that the little girl was surely inventing in her head.

    While we accompanied the kids to ask for candies, I had once again underestimated my ''popularity'', this time among the neighborhood kids; seeing me on the street, many of the kids who recognized me from my babysitting work or the kids Gabe used to play with joined us, guided by Gabe who recognized the majority of them.

    In some way, gathering information with the local kids, Gabe organized a list of the best houses, baptizing it as the ''perfect route'' to ask for candies; every door that opened was surprised by the number of kids in front of their house at the same time.

    "So all those kids know you?" seeing the large number of costumed kids in front of us, Kat asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

    "Yeah, I''ve babysat some of those kids, and occasionally I go out to play with Gabe, and a lot of kids join us," I explained calmly, greeting new kids who joined the group.

    "So, besides studying and working out, you go out and play with a bunch of kids, What? Hide and seek?" sarcastically, Kat asked.

    "Yeah, and sometimes I go to the comic book store with Gabe and Sheldon," I replied without shame.

    "PJ," again, in what seemed like a repetitive event tonight, someone called my name.

    "Hey, kids," turning to discover who called me, I found the Wilkerson brothers walking with their own pillowcases, seemingly quite full.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "What are you doing here, trick-or-treating?" Francis, who carried a backpack in addition to his pillowcase, asked amused, apparently trying to tease me.

    "I''m watching my brother and some other kids. What do you have in the backpack?" maintaining the pace, I asked, narrowing my eyes.

    "Nothing, why?" taken by surprise, Francis, along with his brothers, except for the little Dewey, nervously took a step back.

    "Reese, what does your brother have in the backpack?" staring at the boy, I asked again. Reese, feeling pressured by my question, took another step back nervously, audibly swallowing.

    "There''s nothing in the backpack," standing in front of his brother, Francis said completely serious.

    "Yes, he doesn''t have anything in there," accompanying his older brother, Malcolm repeated, a bit nervous.

    I knew whatever they were hiding couldn''t be good; knowing the kids, I could expect some prank for the houses or people unfortunate enough to cross their path.

    "Look who''s here," before I could continue pressing any of the kids for the truth, from the road in an expensive-looking SUV, someone shouted, "it''s sucker punch!" from the window in the SUV, the teenager who had attacked me several days ago was half out the window, laughing with other teenagers inside the car.

    "Is this some kind of joke?" surprised, I asked.

    "Oh and look who else we have here, the queer is also here," seeing me, the teenager shouted.

    "I didn''t punch you," calmly and nonchalantly, Alan said, "I just knocked you down," the calm teenager explained.

    "Do you think you''re funny, idiot?" opening the door of the SUV and stepping out with the other guys who accompanied him, the agitated teenager shouted again.

    "Not especially," Alan replied, crossing his arms.

    "You''re the idiot at the party," angry, Kat shouted, sidestepping Alan, who had silently placed himself between the agitated teenager and everyone else, "why would you hit someone without a real reason? Whatever Regina told you is a lie; they broke up, and PJ doesn''t want her, so don''t be an idiot," seemingly intending to advance, Kat continued shouting.

    "What?" the agitated teenager, surprised by the sudden furious shouts of the girl, said, "Regina didn''t tell me anything; he was following her. On our first date, he was there; he even interrupted us with a toy gun, and then at the party, we were in the kitchen, and he showed up. Then while dancing, he also approached us. When we were leaving and I was waiting outside for Regina, he coincidentally left too," being supported by his friends behind him, the foolish teenager said.

    "What?" incredulous, I asked, "I didn''t interrupt you; it was my younger brother, and we were there for ice cream," exasperated, I said, "and at the party, I never saw you; I was with her almost all night," pointing to Kat, I felt strangely offended, I spent over a week with a sore face because of the idiocy of a jealous drunk teenager.

    It was astonishing how idiocy could be discerned on the face of the teenager as he pondered the viability of what I had just said, mouth agape and squinting his eyes, it took him several seconds before he closed his mouth again and furrowed his brow, "I might have made a mistake," embarrassed, the foolish teenager admitted.

    "Really?" Kat, also apparently incredulous about the turn of events, asked.

    "Fire!" suddenly, one of the idiot teenager''s friends shouted; inside the SUV with the doors open, we could see the illumination that only a small fire could cause, quickly, the teenager who was driving the SUV ran to where the fire could be seen, "oh my God, is this shit?" after beating and extinguishing whatever was burning inside the SUV, the teenager, looking at his hands and dirty clothes, shouted, "my dad''s going to kill me," he continued.

    Before anyone could ask what was happening, eggs started raining down on the car and the teenagers who were still outside it, "oh God, these eggs are rotten," with seemingly an endless amount of eggs following them, the teenagers quickly jumped into the now egg-covered SUV a few seconds before speeding away down the road.

    As I watched the SUV disappear down the road, I could only shake my head, thinking about how the dumbest teenager I''ve ever met managed to ''kick my ass.''

    "And don''t come back," standing in the middle of the street, throwing an egg, Reese laughed excitedly.

    Apparently, all the interaction with the other teenagers had caught the attention of all the kids, who had somehow acquired a bunch of eggs and, if what the teenager driving the SUV said was true, some excrement.

    Francis, in the midst of the crowd of kids, innocently carried an now empty backpack, "I guess if I look in that backpack now, I won''t find anything," unable to help it, I smiled slightly at the kid.

    "Probably some rolls of toilet paper," also smiling, Francis said.

    "Okay, I think we can still hit a few more houses before everyone has to go home," looking at the sky, I said, estimating how much natural light was left.

    With the deadline I gave, the kids quickly set off.

    "PJ," staying behind, Sheldon walked at my pace.

    "Yeah?" I asked.

    "The older kid had the eggs and a paper bag in his backpack," discreetly, he said.

    "I know," amused by the tattletale kid, I replied, lightly tapping his shoulder.

    "You won''t tell his mom, will you?" Sheldon asked.

    "Don''t worry about that, Sheldon. You should hurry; I''m not sure there''ll be enough candies when you get there," pointing to the next house on the ''perfect route'' list.

    "Oh jinkies," the kid exclaimed before quickly walking to the house.

    Laughing with my two friends, we continued following the kids to the last few houses.

    After the last house on the list, seeing the lack of light in the street, I sent all the kids home.

    Accompanying the kids who lived in the same direction as me, we headed home, leaving Sheldon, Missy, and Billy at their respective homes.

    "Go inside, kiddo," tousling my brother''s hair, I ordered him.

    "See you later," after saying goodbye to Braxton, Gabe ran inside, surely to enjoy more candies.

    "PJ, would you mind dropping us off first?" pointing to his brothers, Alan asked.

    "Oh yeah, sure, but why?" I asked.

    "Christian needs to go to the bathroom," my friend explained, "and he won''t go into a new bathroom unless Mom checks it first," he continued.

    "I see, then let''s hurry," I said quickly, opening the door of ''Debbie'' and adjusting the seat for them to climb into the back.

    After dropping off Alan and his brothers, Kat, who for Christian''s sake kept the volume of the music low, immediately turned it back up almost to the maximum, singing loudly along with the songs.

    Outside the Stratford''s house still inside the car, "so?" lowering the volume of the music and leaning over my seat, I asked suggestively, smiling at my friend and stretching my hand behind her.

    "What?" taken aback and tensing up, Kat nervously asked.

    Staring into her eyes for a few seconds in silence with my hand resting on the car door behind her now, "are all the Duncans equally annoying?" I asked, unlocking the door and smiling before backing up to my seat.

    "You''re such an idiot," hitting my arm, Kat shouted annoyed, closing her eyes and hitting her head against the backrest of her seat.

    "I thought it was funny, Lucy Van Pelt," mimicking her sass from earlier, I said, smiling.

    "Go to hell, you''re so petty," laughing, Kat opened the door and got out of ''Debbie,'' "see you at school, Charlie Brown," she said, leaning in before closing the door.

    After Kat entered the safety of her house, I decided to take a risk and change my inability to defend myself.

    Remembering where Bob had told me the container company was, I headed there, following the map in my glove compartment.

    The place by the side of the road honestly looked like the perfect place to hide a corpse. Maneuvering the car through all the garbage and scraps of metal, I arrived a few meters from a trailer.

    In an open space surrounded by a line of lights with a single worn-out punching bag hanging from a support beam and several rudimentary equipment, two ridiculously large and muscular shirtless men were circling each other, throwing punches that didn''t quite connect.

    Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and walked up to the two practicing. One of the men was a shorter black man than the other, who, upon closer inspection, was a white man at least a few years older than me.

    The black man was the first to notice my presence, stopping the other with a calm hand motion.

    "Good evening, I''m looking for Case Walker," somewhat intimidated by the two people in front of me, I asked.

    "What?" the black man frowned, asking.

    "I''m PJ," I said, taking his question as an answer, "I was wondering if you could teach me, you know, how to fight."

    "Why would I teach you?" the man asked, crossing his arms, "do I know you? Are you related to me? Do I owe you a favor?" he continued asking.

    "My dad told me to come," I said, although Bob had also told me the man was nice.

    "Your Dad?" with exasperation, the man asked again.

    "Bob Duncan," I quickly responded.

    "Oh, the exterminator," seemingly finally remembering, the man nodded slightly, "do you have money?" the man asked suddenly.

    "How much?" I asked.

    "For now, twenty dollars a week and a five-pound bag of potatoes," the man who I now knew was Case Walker responded.

    A bag of potatoes?

    "Yeah, okay," nodding without hesitation, twenty dollars didn''t seem like much to me, and I was sure the bag of potatoes wouldn''t be much more expensive.

    "Okay, here''s the deal, I teach you, and you pay me in blood, sweat, and money," the man said seriously, "I don''t teach you what you want, I teach you what you need," he continued, "now what I teach you here becomes yours to do what you want with," he calmly clarified, "come here regularly or don''t come at all," he finished.

    "Now let me see," looking me up and down, he said, "football," he affirmed, shaking his head, "at least you''re in some kind of shape, but it''s useless to carry weight if you don''t know what you''re doing."

    "I know how to lift weights," feeling a bit offended, I said. I knew very well the process behind lifting weights, from muscle capacity to limb mobility.

    "Shut the fuck up," raising his hand, Case frowned, "I''m not talking about your technique; you need to exercise useful muscles, not just flashy ones," the man continued, "one more rule, you''ll do what I say or get the fuck out."

    "Have you ever thrown a punch?" approaching me, the man asked.

    "Yes," I immediately responded, once.

    "Show me," squinting his eyes, Case ordered.

    "Now?" taken by surprise, I asked, looking at my Charlie Brown costume. It probably would have been a good idea to go home and change my clothes.

    "No, in a month," sarcastically, Case said, stepping in front of me, "come on, throw a punch," bringing his hands to his body, he ordered again.

    Deciding not to speak again, I mimicked what he and the other guy were doing when I arrived, throwing a straight punch towards Case. I was going to stop before making contact, but the man stopped my fist on his own, "look at this motherfucker," with my arm in his hand, the man turned to the other person, "if you hit something like this, you''re going to break your hand. How long have you been doing this?" incredulously, he asked.

    "Once," for some reason, feeling embarrassed, I responded.

    "Okay, there''s work to be done," letting go of my arm, Case said, turning to the other guy, "hey, Tim, show the kid how to throw a proper punch and take turns with fifty each."

    Once again, someone who''s not House calls me a kid, "hey man, Tim Newhouse," said the man now known as Tim, "PJ Duncan," I said, fist-bumping Tim.

    "Now, to throw a punch, you have to have good posture and foot positioning. Your arm has to be straight, and your hand as well, or you''ll break your wrist," Tim began to explain.

    After training and being shown the correct technique for other things like kicking and covering, now without the top part of my costume, Tim and I began stretching on orders from Case, who was doing pull-ups on a pipe hanging from the ceiling.

    "So, what''s Case all about?" I asked as Tim showed me the proper way to stretch.

    "I found out he was a jiu-jitsu champion in Brazil several years ago, and inside ''Daisy'' his trailer, I saw flags from Japan and Thailand, so he may also be an expert in Judo and Muay Thai. But I don''t think that''s all he knows; I saw him fight once in a bar for money, and he''s a beast," Tim said.

    "And why does he live here, if he''s so good, why doesn''t he go pro?" I asked, genuinely interested.

    "He''s on probation, does anything and goes back to prison," Tim whispered in response.

    Case was still doing his strange pull-ups, seemingly without much effort. If anyone could teach me how to defend myself, it was an expert in Jiu Jitsu, Judo, and Muay Thai, whatever those were, an ex-convict and unfriendly, in some ways like House but in completely different areas of expertise.

    "Same time tomorrow you may have heart, take this," Case said, handing me a piece of paper when he finished.

    "What''s this?" I asked, opening the note. "Your new diet," Case said, apparently as a farewell, walking to his trailer home and closing the door behind him.

    "Let me see that," Tim said, taking the note from my hand as he gathered his things. "Two options, you''re either bulking or Case is going to make you need a lot of energy," Tim said, returning the paper to me and lightly tapping my shoulder as we walked out of the compound.

    "Nice car," Tim paused as we reached my car.

    "Thanks, need a ride home?" I asked.

    "Oh no, my truck is parked on the other side, but thanks," Tim politely declined.

    For a guy so big, he was surprisingly kind.

    When I got home, I could feel a bit of pain in my knuckles, although despite hitting many times and with force, it was much less painful than when I hit the idiot teenager.

    Inside the house "where were you, PJ?" Mom asked, seated next to Bob on the couch in the living room as they watched a movie on TV.

    "Sorry, Mom, it got later than I planned, I was with Case Walker," I said, widening my eyes at Bob, emphasizing the last part of my sentence.

    "Oh," Bob said quietly.

    "Who?" Mom asked.

    Fortunately, it wasn''t too late at night, or Mom''s scolding would have probably woken up the whole neighborhood. Only by promising Mom earnestly that I wouldn''t pick fights could I put an end to her furious lecture.

    The next day, I accompanied Mom to buy groceries, using the list Case had given me, adding, apart from the usual, a large amount of meat and grains, and to Mom''s surprise, a five-pound bag of potatoes.

    At the same time as the previous day, I trained with Case and Tim, with Case paying more attention this time, correcting the flaws in my posture. "Before you move on to any technique, you have to learn the basics," Case said as he showed me by strongly hitting the worn-out punching bag hanging in the center of the compound.

    In the end, after stretching, "don''t come tomorrow, Sundays are for resting," Case said again, walking back to his home without saying goodbye.

    After saying goodbye to Tim, I returned home.

    The Sunday passed without much happening, resting, watching cartoons with Gabe, and studying books I had from the hospital library.

    After that, instead of my daily routine freeing up as I had hoped, it got even busier. During the week, I went to school and then to the hospital, where I spent almost all my time either in the library or in some lab skill, or when House remembered his duty at the free clinic, practically doing the man''s work, now adding my training with Case, I had practically no time to do anything else.

    At school, Sheldon being an essential part of the football team''s victories was already common knowledge, to the misfortune of my little friend, teenagers enjoyed lifting him off the ground and giving him hugs when they got close enough.

    To my misfortune, Sheldon was my little friend. Before, I had to accompany him through the school hallways to protect him from unconscious teenagers, now those same teenagers actively sought his presence, so I had to avoid every few people who lifted him up.

    "PJ, is it within your capabilities to prevent them from hugging me or trying to high-five me?" Sheldon asked, almost at the end of the week, apparently tired of all the forced contact he was receiving, hopefully.

    "No, sorry buddy, but that''s beyond my abilities," I said, secretly amused by the way the kid talked.

    "I understand," Sheldon nodded with disappointment in his voice.

    Many more days passed following my daily routine with some changes in the techniques Case showed me, although they all still focused on punches and kicks. Eight days later, the next game of the season arrived, following the new plays made especially for the opposing team, again in an impressive streak for Medford''s history, as I was told, we won a game.

    My ''ability'' to protect Sheldon the day after the game was incredibly reduced, the excitement over the new winning streak made the airborne time my little friend received almost impossible to avoid.

    That weekend, aside from Case starting to show me ''combos,'' I had another invitation to a party.

    On Sunday, forcing Alan to come again, we arrived at a party practically a few houses from mine, since we were no longer in the affluent street, the house was practically the same size as mine and the Coopers'', appearing compared to Joey''s party, few people inside the house.

    "Missy," as I tried to step out of the house for a bit of fresh air in the center of the ''dance floor'' in the house, I found my little neighbor in a costume with wings dancing happily.

    "PJ, let''s dance," Missy shouted with a big smile over the volume of the music.

    "What are you doing here?" I asked carrying her under my arm, ignoring her surprised shout.

    "The weird friend of Sheldon brought us," Missy replied, now amused, hanging under my arm.

    "Wait, Sheldon is here?" I asked, surprised.

    "Put me down!" I heard Sheldon''s voice from behind me, in a very high-pitched tone.

    "Your mom is going to be so mad," lifting Missy onto my shoulders to avoid bumping into anyone at the party, I said.

    "Totally," amused, probably unaware of what I said, Missy responded as she continued to dance on my shoulders.

    "Put him down," arriving where they had Sheldon, dangerously passing the boy from hand to hand over people''s heads, I ordered the last teenager holding the kid.

    "Or what?" arrogantly, the chubby teenager holding Sheldon above his head asked.

    "What do you mean ''or what''? just put him down, idiot," annoyed with the teenager, I said.

    "Come on, Duncan, I know you''re the quarterback and all, but we all know anyone can kick your butt," the chubby teenager continued confidently as he shook Sheldon over his head.

    "Please put me down!" Sheldon shouted with desperation in the air, squirming in the chubby teenager''s hand.

    "Missy, hold on tight," letting go of the girl''s legs, as I had trained at least a hundred times with Case, I quickly adjusted my feet and hips, releasing a powerful punch to the stupid teenager''s face.

    Managing to catch Sheldon before he fell, I gently placed the boy on the ground before holding Missy''s legs again, who was thoroughly amused by the show.

    Despite delivering a strong blow, my hand didn''t hurt.

    "Thanks, PJ," breathless but still maintaining decorum, Sheldon said as he smoothed out his clothes, in this case, a robe.

    "Don''t mention it," I said, leaving the pained teenager on the ground and walking through the surprised people, followed closely by Sheldon, searching for someone.

    "Missy, Sheldon, what are you doing here?" finding my target in the house, Georgie asked, surprised to see his siblings.

    "What are you doing here? You''re grounded," shouting over the music to his brother, Sheldon responded.

    "I found them for you, I recommend taking them home," I said, putting down a reluctant Missy from my shoulders.

    After the Cooper kids left the house, I looked for Alan at the party to leave, unlike the previous party, I recommended my friend to bring a change of clothes so he could stay at my house again.

    The next day in the morning, being accompanied by Alan as usual, Gabe and I went out for a run.

    When we returned, each of us took a quick shower before having breakfast at the kitchen table. Since Alan and I went to school in my car, we weren''t in a hurry to leave.

    When we entered the kitchen, Gabe and the other members of my family were already having breakfast.

    "What?" Teddy asked after I stared at her for a few seconds when we entered.

    "Oh nothing, I was just expecting you to run away screaming like the last time you saw Alan," I said sarcastically as I took my breakfast indicated by Case.

    "Not funny," Teddy muttered, ignoring Mom''s intrigued look.

    Nothing interesting happened that day beyond a fairly simple algebra exam.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, nor a doctor, AND not a fighter.

    Although I''ve watched a wide range of fighting movies, I''m not an expert fighter or anything similar. The most I''ve trained in my life was taekwondo for a few years in my childhood and a few months of boxing before the pandemic.

    I''ve been involved in dozens of fights unfortunately not initiated by me, yay bullying (Is anyone surprised by this. I''ve said many times that I''m a mathematics student, therefore a total nerd.), so I know how it feels to have pain in my fists after hitting someone and especially the pain after receiving a blow.

    The training sessions with Case will be mostly summarized, due to my clear lack of knowledge. Obviously, from time to time, to practice my writing, I''ll try to describe some of the things they do, but unless it''s a fight or part of the story''s development, the training sessions will be summarized.

    Kat is intended as an important part of the MC''s life at this moment, and if you can''t bear her presence, I really don''t know what to tell you. I try to write her as best I can according to the personality she presents in the movie and the one I imagine she had before some events occurred in her life.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 49

    Note:

    I''m willing to write more chapters per week. However, it''s possible that next week I won''t be able to upload as many chapters because I''m going to visit some relatives out of town. I''ll bring a laptop with me, but it doesn''t work very well. If I don''t upload more chapters this week, you''ll have to wait until next Sunday. I''ll do my best to have at least one more chapter.

    ---

    The next day, in Mr. Givens'' science class, a friend of the man, a NASA scientist, came to give a brief talk about his work.

    "Now, what I thought would be fun to talk about today is what NASA''s planning on doing beyond the Space Shuttle," after an awkward introduction, where Mr. Givens had to defend himself for dating teenagers while he was in college, his friend Dr. Ronald Hodges said, "things like the first manned mission to Mars."

    Dr. Hodges was saying when Georgie, a few seats in front of me, raised his hand. "Uh, yeah," pointing at my friend Dr. Hodges gave the floor to Georgie, surely surprised by a question so early in his lecture.

    "Did you see the movie Aliens?" innocently Georgie asked the man.

    "I did," once again puzzled by the question, Dr. Hodges replied.

    "Did you think it was cool?" Georgie asked cheerfully.

    "Uh," obviously skeptical about my friend''s question, Dr. Hodges studied the teenager for a few seconds trying to discern if it was some kind of joke, "sure, I enjoyed it."

    "Me too," Georgie affirmed, falling silent again.

    "Football player, right?" after a few seconds of studying my friend, Dr. Hodges asked.

    "Yes, sir," not understanding the man''s attack on his person, my friend proudly replied.

    "Yeah," nodding slightly, Dr. Hodges murmured, "well now, of course, before we can set out to explore the solar system, we''ve got a few minor problems to overcome," returning to his lecture, the man said, "not the least of which is, every time we launch, it costs the U.S. taxpayers hundreds of millions of dollars," he continued speaking seriously.

    A moment later, and surprisingly much later than I would have expected, Sheldon raised his hand.

    Behind Dr. Hodges, Mr. Givens, upon seeing Sheldon''s hand up, immediately grew nervous, even murmuring to himself as he shook his head.

    "Yes," again seeing a hand up, Dr. Hodges with a cheerful smile gave the floor to another of my friends.

    "If you want to save money, why don''t you land the booster rockets instead of letting them drop in the ocean?" Sheldon asked immediately, I must admit that to my disappointment, Sheldon''s question was not as aggressive as it could have been.

    "It''s a cute idea, but, uh, it''s not technically possible," Dr. Hodges, still smiling, denied it; it was possible, at least it would be in the future.

    "Why not?" Sheldon asked, puzzled.

    "Well, it''s hard to explain," with a somewhat tenser smile than before, the man replied, "the math is pretty complicated," he added.

    "Perhaps I could help you with it," confidently, Sheldon offered.

    "Well, I bet you could," smiling kindly at my little friend, Dr. Hodges said, "I''ll bet you could," surely seeing the seriousness on Sheldon''s face, the man repeated, "I''ll tell you what, here is a NASA patch," from one of his pockets, the man pulled out a patch, offering it to Sheldon, who slowly took it, "why don''t you have your mom sew that on your book bag?" condescendingly, the man offered to Sheldon.

    "Now, who here wants to know how astronauts go to the bathroom?" walking past Sheldon, walking between the benches, the man asked, causing almost all hands in the classroom to immediately shoot up.

    After that, during the talk, I could notice how Sheldon was upset by the interaction he had with the man, the kid was very easy to read, following the short scientist with a furious look, Sheldon surely planned to show that the man was wrong.

    As I predicted, in the following days, Sheldon focused completely on proving the man wrong, even skipping some classes, according to what Tam said when I asked him, to work on the library computers.

    On Friday night, when I returned from my training with Case, Sheldon along with his parents were at our house.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, good evening," entering the house, I greeted the couple who responded noticeably tired or exasperated for some reason.

    "Hi PJ," alongside them, Sheldon, obviously in pain in his abdomen, made an effort to greet me, "hey buddy, are you okay?" approaching the child, I asked.

    "PJ, you''re finally here," coming out of the kitchen with cups in her hand, mom said with what I could discern as a forced smile.

    "Yeah, what''s up?" I asked puzzled.

    "Sheldon wanted to get your medical opinion, he thinks he has a..." Mrs. Cooper, obviously stressed, said, pausing trying to remember.

    "An ulcer?" I asked.

    "Yes," complaining of pain, Sheldon said, "I told you he would agree with me, it''s obvious," he continued.

    "Yeah, PJ, Sheldon wanted to know your opinion, not mine," handing the steaming cups to the other present parents, mom said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

    "You know I''m still not a doctor, Sheldon, right?" secretly observing his behavior, I knew Sheldon, and it was very difficult for him to suddenly start pretending pain.

    "But you''re the closest thing to one in the vicinity," the child replied, causing mom to snort understandably upset, causing both Mr. and Mrs. Cooper to apologize silently.

    "Well, thanks for your trust in me, Sheldon," leaning in front of the child on the couch, I said, "what do you say if I do a quick physical exam," indicating to the child to lift his shirt, I palpate his abdomen feeling it slightly swollen, also finding small patches of different tones on his skin, "have you been under a lot of stress lately?" lowering the child''s shirt, I asked.

    "Yes, she won''t take me to Radio Shack," pointing to his mom, the child said.

    "Young man," annoyed, Mrs. Cooper reprimanded her son.

    "Radio Shack, do you need a computer for NASA rocket math?" standing up, I asked.

    "Yes, how do you know?" surprised, Sheldon asked.

    "I have microphones in your house," smiling and widening my eyes, I whispered lying to the child.

    "He might have an ulcer," ignoring the terrified look the child was giving me, I told his parents, "the hospital can wait until tomorrow, but he''s going to need labs," I concluded.

    "I told you," Sheldon said from his place on the couch.

    "How sure are you, PJ?" now with concern, Mrs. Cooper asked.

    "I''m pretty sure. He has a slightly swollen abdomen, pain in the right places, and a slight discoloration in some parts of his skin. I''m sure it''s nothing serious, a course of Zantac treatment and Sheldon will be as good as new," I assured.

    "I read an interesting research about treating ulcers with antimicrobials," Sheldon, still in pain, said.

    "Yes, treatment with antimicrobials can also be an option. The main focus is to eradicate the bacterial infection that causes ulcers, thus preventing them from spreading, but that depends on your doctor, buddy," I assured the child.

    "At the hospital, you can ask for Dr. Allison Cameron. She''s an immunologist friend of mine. If you tell her you''re there on my behalf, I''m sure she''ll treat Sheldon gladly," I said to the Coopers.

    "Perfect, thank you, PJ," getting up, Sheldon said, walking towards the door, "also, thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Duncan," the child stopped for a moment, turning to mom, "let''s go, Mom, Dad, I have to look for microphones," Sheldon continued seriously.

    "Well, thank you very much, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said, getting up somewhat puzzled, "thanks for everything, Amy," she continued, handing her cup to mom.

    "Thank you, son," offering his hand to me, Mr. Cooper said tiredly before also saying goodbye to mom.

    "It seems like you''re the closest thing to a doctor in this house now," mom said with a playful smile.

    "He''s just a kid, and he interacts much more with me, Mom. Don''t pay attention to him, he doesn''t know what he''s talking about," taking the cups from the woman''s hands, I reassured her.

    "No, Sheldon is right," stopping slightly with a smile on her face, mom said, "that was an impressive diagnosis, my son the doctor," with pride, the woman affectionately tapped my hand.

    The following Monday, Cameron confirmed my diagnosis and told me about the treatment my little friend would follow.

    The week passed like all the previous days, following my routine. The only thing that changed was Case''s classes. Having learned at least the basics of fighting, the man found it appropriate to start teaching me guard positions from the ground.

    Using Tim as an opponent, who was several dozen pounds heavier than either of us, Case showed us ways to bring down our opponents. "Learn the first ten. By the way, you need to get me a new composition notebook, black," handing me ''homework'' in the form of a black notebook filled with drawings with explanations, Case said as a farewell on Friday of that week.

    At home, surprisingly, the first person I encountered was Gabe nervously waiting on the living room couch with the television off.

    "We have a problem," seeing me, the boy immediately stood up, taking me by the arm and dragging me into the kitchen.

    "What''s wrong, Gabe? Are you okay?" seeing the child so nervous, I asked concerned.

    "Okay," always vigilant at the kitchen door, the child began to speak in a whisper, "it''s already here," my brother declared theatrically.

    "What''s already here?" I asked, puzzled by the child''s behavior.

    "I overheard Dad talking about it," shaking his head slightly, Gabe said, ignoring my question, "we have to find a way to refuse, maybe you can say I have an illness, and we have to stay because of that," hopefully the child said.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Gabe, I''m not understanding, what''s worrying you so much?" quickly putting my hands on his shoulders, quickly getting the attention of the worried child again.

    "The annual fishing trip of the Duncans," Gabe replied grimly after swallowing loudly.

    "What?" I asked, despite hearing clearly, I didn''t understand the problem behind going fishing; I had never done it before, but it sounded like a peaceful thing, a few days out of my routine could be quite peaceful.

    "It''s true, you forgot about it," frowning, the child said as he nodded slightly, "take a seat, PJ," pointing to one of the chairs in the kitchen, the child said calmly.

    Somewhat amused by all the child''s acting, I decided to take a seat to listen to whatever he had to say.

    "Imagine this, the only two days you have to rest in the whole week, used only to sit for hours watching a bunch of water around you and insects everywhere," walking from side to side theatrically, Gabe said, "the worst part is that there''s a slight chance you might catch something. Do you know what that means?" stopping and horrified at the idea of what he had just said, Gabe asked.

    "I don''t know, maybe cook and eat the fish?" I asked with a bit of irony.

    "Well, yeah," surely cutting his monologue short, I interrupted the child, "but you''re focusing on the wrong thing. The problem is that it''s two days away from civilization, no television, no music because loud noises scare the fish, nothing. Two days of pure torture," exaggeratedly, Gabe said, stopping his monologue.

    "It doesn''t sound so bad," I said.

    "Yeah, that''s why we have to think of a way to avoid..." the child was saying, apparently not understanding what he had said until he stopped himself, "wait, what?" taken by surprise, the child stopped.

    "It doesn''t sound so bad, Gabe. It''s just two days where you have to be separated from what you normally do on weekends," I said, "which is basically nothing," I continued, causing the child to nod proudly for some reason, "Dad works every day so you can do nothing, so I don''t think it''s so bad to give him two days of the year in something he enjoys."

    "But you don''t understand, it''s fishing, insects, let me explain it to you again," incredulous, the child said.

    "No matter what it is, it''s something Dad wants to do with us, so why not give it to him?" standing up, interrupting the restart of his monologue, I said, shaking my brother''s hair, "I''ll tell you what, kiddo, we''ll go to this for Dad, you''ll enjoy as much as you can anything you find entertaining, and next weekend I''ll tell Dad to go to a Monster Trucks event. I heard a doctor from the hospital really likes it, and I thought about going to see one," I offered and I could see how the child''s eyes lit up with excitement.

    "Okay, you''ve got a deal," quickly taking my hand with fear that I would change my mind, the child said, nodding vigorously.

    "Then it seems like we''re going fishing."

    Leaving the kitchen, I encountered Bob walking from his room to the living room with a big smile. "Hey champ, great news, it''s time for the annual Duncan fishing trip," the man said excitedly.

    "I just heard it from Gabe. Sounds good," I said, making Bob even more excited.

    "Then tomorrow bright and early, we''ll head out to the campsite," Bob said with a big smile. "By the way, I wanted to give you this." He pulled a pocket knife from his back pocket. "Your grandpa gave it to me when I turned sixteen." After placing the knife in my hand and looking at it fondly for a few seconds, Bob lightly tapped my shoulder. "You''ll have to pass it on to your own son at some point," he continued seriously. "It''s a sort of tradition."

    "Thanks, Dad," feeling a lump in my throat, I thanked the man.

    "No problem. Just don''t tell your brother; he might get a little jealous. When he turns sixteen, I''ll figure out what to get him," Bob said jokingly in a whisper before walking into the kitchen.

    Looking at the knife in my hand, I clenched it a little before tucking it into my pocket.

    The next morning, very early, I woke up Gabe, who, already accustomed to our morning runs, got up without much trouble until he remembered why we were waking up early.

    After reminding Gabe of our deal, we left our room to find a strangely energetic Bob prepared with a funny fishing hat and a dark green vest, as well as three fishing rods in his hands and a large backpack hanging from his other shoulder.

    "Are you guys ready?" energetically whispering, Bob asked. Without speaking, I responded by raising my thumbs, smiling broadly. "Then, the annual Duncan fishing trip officially begins!" Ignoring Gabe''s lack of response and cheerfully accepting my response, Bob said, walking happily out of the house.

    "Come on, what''s the worst that could happen?" taking a dejected Gabe under my arm, I asked as I followed Bob out of the house.

    Outside the house, contrary to what I thought before leaving, we weren''t entirely alone on the street. In front of their own house, with a comically large suitcase by his side, Sheldon, with a hat covering his ears, stood beside his family''s car, apparently eagerly waiting.

    "Oh PJ, are you going to the launching of the space shuttle too?" Sheldon asked cheerfully, surprised.

    "Oh no, we''re going fishing," I said, pointing to Bob, who was struggling to fit the fishing rods into the car.

    "Oh, I''m sorry to hear that for you," the child said somberly with pity.

    What''s with kids and not wanting to go fishing?

    "Well, enjoy the launch, Sheldon," I said as a farewell to the strange kid, walking back to Bob and Gabe, who were still struggling to fit the long rods into the car.

    After managing to pack everything into the car, we headed to the camping site that Bob had researched. Being relatively new to the area, Bob didn''t know the best camping and fishing spots in Colorado, but taking information from a sports equipment store owner, where he also bought bait, we headed there.

    Several hours of driving later, even through a forest trail, we arrived at the camping site, next to a river that bifurcated in the center by a block of land and then rejoined. It seemed like the site was quite popular as there were already other families present.

    In the spacious land area in the center of the river, the other families seemed to be having a picnic day. Among them, there wasn''t a single child, ruling out any hope of Gabe having fun with people his age.

    "More people!, David Wallace, pleasure to meet you," a cheerful man said as we got out of the car, approaching to introduce himself.

    "Howdy, pleasure to meet you," shaking the man''s hand, Bob said, "I''m Bob Duncan, and these are my sons, PJ and Gabe," he continued.

    "Are you guys here to camp?" the man, David Wallace, asked. "Well, we''re just here for a picnic day; in a few hours, you''ll have us out of here," after Bob nodded to his first question, the man continued.

    "Who are they, honey?" walking carefully through the river from the land to the center, a heavily pregnant woman asked. "Callie, honey, these are Bob Duncan and his sons, PJ and Gabe; they''re here to camp," the man introduced us before going to help his wife walk out of the river.

    "Oh, isn''t that sweet?" looking at my younger brother, the woman asked sweetly, "you''re here for some quality time with your Dad," she affirmed, stroking her bulging abdomen, obviously envisioning their future.

    "Yes, it''s an annual Duncan tradition," proudly, Bob affirmed, "I hate to ask this but are you..." Bob was saying, but the woman interrupted him, "pregnant? Yes, quite," pointing to her swollen abdomen, the woman said amusingly.

    "Well, congratulations. My wife is also pregnant; it would be our fourth, your first?" Bob asked cheerfully, causing the couple to nod excitedly.

    "I hope I''m not being forward, how many months along are you?" I asked a little worried, being so far from society; we were hours away from the nearest hospital.

    "I''m in the third trimester, eighth month," hugging her belly, Mrs. Wallace said with a big smile.

    As long as nothing serious happened, the woman and the baby would be safe, but for some reason, I felt strangely nervous.

    After Bob and Mr. Wallace talked about a couple of other things, we got down to business setting up the tents and preparing what was necessary to make a fire in the land in the middle of the river; there was enough space to be used as a campsite.

    Several hours after eating barbecue that the Wallaces happily shared, with the camp already established, Bob was boiling water to make coffee for everyone, while Gabe and I were sitting reading some comics that the boy had brought. "It''s not as bad as in Colorado; there we sat in a small boat for hours. At least here, I can decide where to be during all that time," finishing another comic, the boy said.

    "You see, just be careful not to finish your comics all at once," I warned him, flipping a page of the comic I was reading about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, quite interesting.

    As I read the comic, a drop of water suddenly fell on the page I had open, and moments later, many other drops began to fall.

    Closing the comic and handing it to Gabe, I stood up. "Go put the comics back in the car and wait there; it looks like it''s going to rain," I said worriedly. The only ways we had to leave the clearing of land were through the river, and if it started raining heavily, those paths could become impassable.

    "Dad, I think we need to put the stuff back in the car before we can''t cross the river," pointing out what I had noticed, I said, causing Bob to immediately start organizing things after warning the Wallaces and those with them.

    While I stayed behind organizing the remaining tents, Bob went to leave things he had with him in the car where Gabe was waiting.

    In a matter of seconds, the rain became denser, causing the river currents to increase in speed, removing the safety of passage. "I''m going to tie a rope to the other side to make it safe to cross," a big man from Mr. Wallace''s group bravely said as he carried a thick rope and crossed the river, which covered almost the entirety of his upper body.

    As people crossed the river, I decided to leave the last tent without dismantling it. The few minutes it had taken for the vast majority of people to cross the river had allowed strong winds, along with a heavy storm, to hit where we were.

    The river currents were now practically impossible to cross. "Honey, what''s happening?" next to me, Mr. Wallace yelled over the noise of the rain.

    Mrs. Wallace, with pain on her face, was bent over her abdomen, holding onto her husband''s shoulder. Approaching the couple, "there''s still a tent up there," leaving the things I had in my hands, I asked, helping Mrs. Wallace walk with her husband''s assistance. "Let''s go," the man said, walking alongside us.

    "How often are the contractions?" laying the woman down inside the tent, I asked.

    "I don''t know, every few seconds," the woman responded with pain, suddenly screaming again.

    "Mrs. Wallace, you''re in labor; we need to get this baby out now," preparing the woman seriously, I said.

    "What?" Mr. Wallace, who had been frozen seconds ago, asked incredulously.

    "The contractions are almost immediate, one after another, Mr. Wallace, David, we don''t have time to hesitate. Do you have any medical training?" I asked seriously.

    "No, I''m a journalist," nervously, the man responded, apparently not knowing what to do.

    "Okay, I need you to listen to me; it might seem odd because of my age, but I know what I''m doing," deciding to take control of the situation, I said. "I''ll go for the water my dad was boiling; I''ll be back in a few minutes. David, go with your wife and hold her hand; it''s going to hurt, so be prepared. Callie, I need you to breathe like this," I ordered, showing the woman how to breathe.

    Outside the tent, the rain had worsened. "PJ!" from the other side of the current, Bob was yelling forcefully, "I''m here!" I shouted back, running to where the bonfire had been. Fortunately, where Bob had heated the water was a closed metal container. Due to its weight, it hadn''t overturned in the wind and still held a high temperature.

    Dipping the pocket knife Bob had given me into the dangerously hot water, I hurried back to the to the place near where the tent was.

    "She''s giving birth; try to call for help!" shouting as close to the shore as I could, I informed Bob, who seemed to hear, running towards where the vans were parked.

    Inside the tent, I could hear the screams of the pregnant woman. "I''m back; this isn''t going to be pretty, but don''t worry, I know what I''m doing," kneeling down, I left the hot water by my side, arranging the legs of the pained woman.

    "Callie, I need you to keep breathing as I taught you and push as hard as you can when I tell you," positioning the woman''s hips, I said. "David, hold her hand; this is going to be very painful, and you need to support her," I said seriously to the frightened man, who quickly nodded.

    "Ready, Callie?" I asked, causing the woman, who was breathing heavily, to nod. Placing my hands in the hot water, I endured the pain it caused before returning to the woman, positioning myself. "Push!" I shouted.

    The woman''s screams sounded much louder than the rain, at least inside the tent. Accompanying the woman''s screams, David also shouted in pain, contorting his arm where his wife was gripping tightly.

    "I need you to do it again, Callie, push!" I shouted, watching as a second later, the baby''s head crowned between the woman''s legs.

    "I can see his head, Callie, one more time," I shouted.

    "I can''t!" tears escaping her eyes, the woman screamed, shaking her head, "Callie, you have to do this; your baby needs to be born," I said, trying to feel the baby''s head that hadn''t fully emerged.

    "I can''t!" the woman screamed again.

    Seeing David, I approached the man gently, "I know how to perform an emergency cesarean, but the baby is about to come out, and right now, it could be dangerous," apparently hearing enough, the man leaned down to his wife''s ear, speaking to her for a few seconds before sitting back down, preparing his hand, nodding to me vigorously.

    "Alright, Callie, one more time, push!" I shouted, prepared to receive the baby.

    With one last horrible, prolonged scream, the woman exerted herself to the maximum, allowing the baby''s head to emerge, and allowing me to help pull the baby out completely.

    "I''ve got him," I said, quickly taking the knife from the water and cutting the umbilical cord. "Why isn''t it crying?" seemingly forgetting her own pain, Callie asked, worried, catching my attention.

    "Darn it," moving quickly, I said, "the umbilical cord is strangling it," removing the umbilical cord from around the baby''s neck, I initiated cardiopulmonary resuscitation. "Come on, come on," pressing the small chest of the baby with two fingers, I said before slowly giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, "please breathe, come on," I continued, mentally counting. "Your parents are here, come on, you have to breathe," for the second time I gave air to the child, feeling the heartbeat in my chest and my ears blocked while continuing to do the maneuver in a trance.

    "My baby, please," suddenly next to me, Callie screamed, crying desperately, being held back by her husband.

    "Come on," leaning in once more to give air to the baby''s lungs in my arms, I said for the last time.

    "Waaah!" as I removed my mouth from the baby''s face, the infant immediately cried, moving in my arms.

    "Thank you," feeling a bit weak and tears running down my face, I said genuinely to no one, "congratulations, it''s a boy," laughing a bit as I tried not to cry, I handed the exposed baby to his parents.

    Quite the eventful weekend for a peaceful fishing trip.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and Not a doctor.

    What did you think of the chapter? Let''s not tempt fate, eh?

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 50

    50 chapters and almost 10 months writing this, wow.

    I''m sorry I couldn''t publish chapters these days. I had very bad luck in these two weeks; my laptop died the first day I started writing on it. I don''t know what happened, I still have to take it to the technician.

    Also, when I arrived home, the transformer that powers the building where I live had exploded. So everything inside the refrigerator had completely spoiled, along with what was in the freezer.

    Fortunately, whenever I leave my house, I disconnect my computer, so nothing bad happened to it. The electricity was fixed until a few days ago, but with all the electricity problem, I had completely forgotten to pay the internet, so there was no internet when the electricity came back. Only a few days ago was the internet reconnected.

    Well, just a setback in life, sometimes it happens, you have to move on. I wrote down some ideas for this chapter by hand, and also took the opportunity to organize the internal calendar of the world I have planned.

    (I''m not a scientist (yet) who has published anything in any kind of journal, nor have I won a Nobel Prize, so in this chapter, there is a set of nonsense, fasten your seat belts.)

    Enjoy.

    ---

    After assisting in the birth, the Wallace family and I stayed inside the tent for several more minutes, waiting for the rain to stop or the storm to calm down enough. During that time, David Wallace, now out of the shock of the intense situation, began to ask question after question, obviously intrigued by my medical knowledge and abilities.

    "Leave PJ alone," weakly tapping her husband, Mrs. Wallace ordered him in a whisper as she cradled her exhausted newborn baby.

    "How can you not be interested? He''s a sixteen-year-old who knows how to assist in a birth," said the surprised man, unintentionally raising his voice, which immediately woke the baby who began to cry. "Oh, I''m sorry," Mr. Wallace whispered apologetically while Mrs. Wallace, rocking the baby again, managed to get him back to sleep.

    "I read a lot of books, my mother is a nurse, and I plan to be a doctor someday. I study a lot," I explained silently, relieving the tension of the situation as I looked out of the tent. It was still raining, but with much less intensity.

    "Just books?" still incredulous but keeping his voice low, David Wallace asked, "PJ, that was insane, you took control of the situation like a professional, you were even prepared to perform an emergency cesarean section. How could you know that? Did you learn it from a book too?"

    "There are books, yes, but I''ve watched dozens of procedures and practiced countless hours," I explained.

    "Aren''t you in high school?" surprised, David asked.

    "The hospital have a collection of hundreds of videos of different procedures in the library," I said, recalling all the videos I''ve seen in this life and my past life.

    "The hospital..." Mr. Wallace was asking, but a faint shout from outside the tent stopped him. "PJ!" what I recognized as Bob''s voice came from the other side of the river.

    "I''ll be back," I said to the couple with the newborn baby before stepping out into the now much lighter rain.

    "Dad?" approaching the edge of the small island in the center of the river, I shouted.

    "The rangers are on their way, how''s everything over there?" wearing a heavy jacket with his company logo, the man asked.

    "The baby is out and doing fine, Mrs. Wallace too," I said in summary, causing Bob to give a thumbs up before running to take cover from the rain in his truck, where Gabe was in the front seat trying to see out of the windshield.

    Back in the tent, David, carrying his newborn baby with one arm, while with the other he nervously shook his wife, who had suddenly passed out.

    "She''ll be okay, she''s just very exhausted," moving inside the tent to shield myself from the rain, I checked the pulse of the sleeping woman. "You have to support your baby''s head," watching as the man held the baby, I continued moving his arms to show him how to hold the child.

    As time passed, due to the rain and wind, the temperature of the area began to drop. The most warmly dressed and my top priority was the little baby because being a newborn, he obviously had more risk. He needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible, just like his mother.

    A few minutes later, with the rain much more controlled outside the tent in the now dark of night, illuminated only slightly by the moonlight until the emergency lights fully illuminated the area, followed a few minutes later by the characteristic and loud sound of a helicopter flying and subsequently landing.

    In a short time, a lot of emergency personnel including rangers and paramedics were preparing to assist us.

    With the help of the rangers, we managed to cross the now much calmer river to the other side, where a few steps away, an emergency helicopter was parked with paramedics waiting for the newborn mother and her baby.

    "Moderate premature birth due to stress, the baby was suffocated by the umbilical cord but was successfully revived after forty seconds of CPR, no visible bleeding, normal signs in both the mother and the baby. I couldn''t check the oxygenation, but just to be sure, I recommend they do a CT scan," walking quickly alongside one of the paramedics under the still present rain, I said, visibly surprising the paramedic but at least ensuring he listened to me fully.

    "I won''t forget this, PJ, thank you so much. I''ll find you at some point," Mr. Wallace shouted loudly with a big smile as he got into the helicopter with his wife and newborn baby wrapped in thermal blankets.

    After watching the helicopter take off into the distance, carrying the small family to the nearest hospital, I hurried into Bob''s truck, lying down in the back seat and wrapping myself tightly in my own thermal blanket, feeling mentally and physically exhausted. "That''s why I hate fishing trips," Gabe, completely dry and not at all exhausted, said amusingly from the passenger seat.

    "For this specifically?" I ironically asked, using part of my last energy to lightly tap the boy''s head and turn on the heater inside the car.

    In relative silence, Gabe and I stayed inside the truck, waiting for Bob and the other adults who stayed behind to explain what had happened.

    At some point, which I missed due to being completely exhausted, Bob returned to the truck and drove until we arrived at some motel on the side of the road.

    "PJ, we''re here," shaking my shoulder energetically, Gabe from the front of the truck woke me up before quickly getting out of the rain.

    Inside the room that Bob rented for the night, I was able to take a much-needed hot shower before collapsing into bed and sleeping deeply.

    The rain continued all night until the next day. Early in the morning, feeling much better rested, we prepared to have breakfast before leaving the motel to head home.

    After having a hearty breakfast, especially myself as I was quite hungry, since I started training with Case just over two weeks ago, my diet had drastically changed. The man seemed determined to force me to gain weight, creating a high-protein, high-calorie diet for me that had managed to add a few pounds to my weight. Fortunately, in addition to the diet, my physical activity had increased as well, ensuring that those pounds weren''t all fat.

    Despite the rain still falling, the journey back home passed without any problems. Listening to music and stories from Bob about his fishing trips with his father, time flew by quickly, and before we knew it, we were back in front of the house, unloading all the equipment we had managed to recover from the forest incident.

    "You''re back early. Did the storm drive you away?" sitting on the living room sofa, Mom, who was watching TV, cheerfully asked while still dressed in a robe.

    "Yeah," carrying a few things and setting them aside, I replied.

    "How did it go?" lowering the volume of the TV, Mom asked, causing Gabe, who was a few steps behind me, to also hear the question.

    Sharing a quick glance with Gabe, "it was something," I said after a few seconds while Gabe sighed and shook his head.

    Later that day, a few hours after helping Bob and Gabe clean his now completely dirty truck, the Coopers returned from their own trip. Having a brief conversation with Sheldon, the boy shared his disappointment at not being able to see the launch as well as the worst moment of his trip, when his father made him stand in the rain for a few seconds.

    The next day during Mrs. Ingram''s class, the teacher reminded us of an exam scheduled for a few days later, but other than that, nothing else interesting happened during the school period.

    Upon arriving at House''s office, as I did every day lately since there wasn''t an "interesting" case according to House, to drop off my things and head to the library, I was surprisingly met by House himself sitting behind his desk.

    "What?" after hanging up my backpack, I asked intrigued by the calculating look the man was giving me.

    "Surprising," leaning back in his chair while playing with his cane, House said slowly.

    "Thanks, don''t tell me too much, I don''t want to be a total egomaniac like..." I said, jokingly pointing at him with my eyes.

    "You''re not even going to brag a little?" squinting his eyes, House asked, ignoring my joke.

    "About what?" I asked.

    "Oh, come on, you know where I''ve been these past few weeks," with exaggerated exasperation, House said.

    "Oh, you''ve been taking advantage of the maternity lounge watching soap operas, does the Wallace come to this hospital?" understanding what he was implying, I asked, taking a seat in front of him.

    "So, it was really you," amused, House said, "I thought there would be another teenager dumb enough but knowledgeable enough to assist in an emergency delivery in the middle of a forest."

    "It wasn''t something I planned. We had no way to get Mrs. Wallace to a hospital," I quickly defended myself.

    "Wow, calm down. I''m not interested. I just wanted to know if it was really you," pulling out a handheld game from his drawer, House said sarcastically, "are you still here?" after a few seconds, he shifted his attention back to his game and asked me.

    Slightly scoffing, I shook my head as I stood up, getting ready to go to the library for some videos before heading to a skills lab.

    "By the way, mommy wants to see you in her office. She might not find your adventure as amusing," refocusing on his video game, House said as I was about to leave his office.

    "What could Dr. Cuddy need with me?" I asked, puzzled, as I hardly had any interaction with the woman.

    "You caught on to ''mommy'' right away, huh," smiling arrogantly, House said without answering my question, putting his feet up on his desk.

    Ignoring the exasperating doctor, I left his office on my way to Dr. Cuddy''s office.

    "I think Dr. Cuddy is expecting me," arriving outside her office, I said to the woman''s secretary, who was working on some documents.

    "Ah, PJ, come on in," suddenly opening the door to her office, Dr. Cuddy, who seemed completely excited to see me, said with a big smile.

    "Dr. Cuddy," I greeted the woman as I took a seat offered in front of her desk, she sat excitedly on the other side.

    "How have you been? Has your time here at the hospital been useful?" crossing her hands on her desk, trying to hide an excited smile, the woman asked.

    Strange, I thought, considering the way House had told me that the woman was waiting for me, I thought it would be something bad. But from the woman''s attitude and body language, I could discern an underlying interest.

    "I''ve been very well, thank you. I''ve been taking advantage of the lab skills and a large number of surgical procedure videos," I said, still puzzled by the woman''s attitude.

    "I''m glad, I''m glad," nodding slightly, Dr. Cuddy said, "besides that, is there anything you''d like to ask for? I know spending a lot of time with House can be quite something sometimes, so if you need anything, just ask, and we''ll see how to get it," she continued with a big smile.

    Something was going on, "the videos are incredible, but I was wondering if there was a way for me to witness a live surgery?" I didn''t know what it was, but I would take advantage of it given the chance.

    "Oh, that can definitely be arranged," clapping her hands lightly, Dr. Cuddy said, "for obvious reasons, you won''t be able to participate in any way, but being present with due care, asking questions, and observing closely can definitely be done."

    "That would be amazing, thank you so much," I said excitedly, being inside the operating room other than being the patient would be an incredible experience for the future.

    "Anything for you," the woman continued kindly.

    After that, a somewhat uncomfortable silence fell within the office. "So, was that all you needed?" I finally asked, breaking the silence a few seconds later.

    "I wanted to talk to you about this..." Dr. Cuddy quickly said, opening one of the drawers of her desk.

    Taking what seemed to be a long book, a JAMA from what I recognized, she placed it on the desk with a joyful smile, opening it to a page.

    Donnall Thomas, Joseph E. Murray; bone marrow transplant.

    "Oh, it''s Dr. Thomas''s published work," I said cheerfully, taking the journal from the desk and quickly reading the contents. It had been a while since I had been in touch with the doctor; I was glad to see his work published again.

    "Oh yes, look at the acknowledgments section," stretching to point to the end of the article, Dr. Cuddy said, now doing a poor job of hiding her excitement.

    "Patrick John Dart Duncan and Texas Tech - Medford Teaching Hospital," I read the last of the acknowledgments.

    "That''s yours," excitedly said Dr. Cuddy.

    Certainly, the acknowledgment was a pleasant surprise. I knew my ''involvement'' in the doctor''s research wouldn''t be enough for co-authorship. It wasn''t entirely why I did it. If anything, my past life taught me that having connections when building your career was essential. Therefore, my interaction with Dr. Thomas was merely to establish a connection with someone who would be highly regarded in the medical world.

    "Do you know what this means?" Dr. Cuddy asked cheerfully.

    If in any way I had gotten her hospital''s name into an article that would likely, from her perspective, win the Nobel Prize.

    "This is definitely on the list of potential Nobel winners," tapping the journal lightly, Dr. Cuddy said.

    Yes, and she had no idea.

    Dr. Cuddy and I continued to talk about my short-term future at the hospital and then going to medical school.

    "I thought you wanted to talk to me about the Wallace baby," I said relieved when we finished discussing my future as a doctor, though I somewhat knew House was pulling a prank on me.

    "What?" Dr. Cuddy asked incredulously, taken by surprise. "It was you?" she continued.

    Noticing how my knack for speaking and getting into trouble had gotten me into another fix, I remained silent for a few seconds until I nodded defeatedly.

    "You helped deliver David Wallace''s son? Not only that, you saved his life?" Dr. Cuddy suddenly laughed, "I could kiss you, if you were a few years older," she continued disappointedly.

    "I don''t mind," I joked, relieved she wasn''t upset. It was definitely a House prank if Cuddy took my actions badly.

    "You spend much more time with House than you should," Dr. Cuddy said with mock exasperation, shaking her head amusedly.

    "The Wallaces left early today. The nurses overheard them arguing about a teenager who saved their son''s life, and the doctor who received the paramedics on the roof heard how a strange teenager took control to explain the patients'' conditions," Dr. Cuddy explained, wiping away tears from laughing too hard.

    As I left Dr. Cuddy''s office, she grabbed my arm and gave me a long kiss on the cheek. "Keep up the excellent work," she whispered with a touch of amusement in her words before going back into her office.

    Taken aback by the woman''s sudden actions, I stood frozen for a few seconds where I was before snapping out of my trance and walking to the library with my journal under my arm.

    Passing by the reception desk of the Fryday free clinic, which was in its usual place, with a haughty smile, she pointed to her own cheek, silently indicating it was dirty from my kiss.

    The day continued, and at the hospital, nothing changed aside from my daily study and practice session.

    With Case and Tim during the night, having read the muscular man''s notebook, I had many questions about the positions in which the techniques were performed. Case''s attitude toward me had changed significantly over these days, almost matching the much friendlier attitude he had with Tim.

    "Are you following your diet?" Case asked with his usual furrowed brow, looking at my bare torso seriously.

    "Yes, I''m getting more used to it. At first, I felt like I was going to vomit," I responded, not showing the slight discomfort I felt under the muscular man''s judgmental gaze.

    "You''re developing real muscles," Tim said from the floor, surprisingly flexible for a man his size.

    "Yeah," Case agreed with Tim, "do fifty single-legs each," he ordered, starting his own training.

    During the relatively short time I had been training with Case, I had learned many new terms I never thought I would learn. Every few days, Case had a new type of training for a new technique to learn, each with their respective names, some even in Brazilian Portuguese.

    Following Case''s instructions, we finished the training as we did every day, doing stretches that challenged my ligaments less and less each time.

    "See you tomorrow," I said goodbye to Tim, who nodded kindly, on my way to his van, while I stayed behind to hand Case the new notebook he had asked for.

    "Case," after knocking on the man''s trailer door, I waited a few seconds.

    "What?" Case asked upon opening the door.

    "Here," I said, handing him a notebook like the one he had given me but completely new.

    With the trailer door open, I could see several things Tim had once told me about: small flags from other countries, including Brazil, Thailand, and Japan, adorned a small space on a countertop inside the trailer.

    Also, quickly, before Case moved to block my view, I could see photographs arranged under the flags, some of Case with other people wearing outfits similar to what I saw when I entered the martial arts kids'' class, others where he was with people very different from how he is now, with a big smile on his face, and very few where Case wasn''t present, old photographs.

    "Same time tomorrow," unlike the photos inside the trailer, Case, with a furrowed brow obviously annoyed, said.

    "Yeah," I said as calmly as I could.

    Moving to the other side of the door frame, Case allowed me to see a small table in the center of his trailer with a chess game in progress.

    I had never seen anyone here other than Tim. There were even days when I arrived before him, and despite that, I had never seen Tim enter the trailer, so the game was possibly just Case against himself.

    "Do you play chess?" I asked, pointing at the table with my gaze.

    Raising one of his eyebrows, Case stared at me for a few seconds before snorting and nodding, "it''s a great game for strategy," he replied calmly.

    "Would you like a game?" I asked.

    Apart from being a great game for strategy, it was an interesting game for mathematics. Whenever I participated in math tournaments in my past life, I saw many other teenagers from other schools playing chess matches among themselves.

    Thinking it was some kind of study strategy, I learned to play by reading dozens of books about it, never really having a chance to play against someone. In this life, I might have had a chance to play against Sheldon, but knowing the kid, he would use it to flaunt some kind of intellectual superiority, which I wasn''t willing to experience against a nine-year-old, no matter how smart he is.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    "Wait here," snorting once more, Case closed the trailer door and reopened it moments later, "come inside," he ordered.

    Entering behind Case, I could see what he had done in the few seconds he had closed the door¡ªall the photographs that had been on display were now lying down to avoid being seen.

    "Left or right," as I took a seat across from Case at his small table inside the trailer, he clenched his fists, giving me a choice.

    "Left," I said, causing Case to open his hand, revealing a white pawn.

    "Are you a foreigner?" after setting up the board, I moved my first piece and asked.

    Frowning, if possible, even more, Case didn''t respond, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

    "The flags," pointing at the fabric flags inside his house, I said by way of explanation.

    "I''m from Brooklyn," Case relaxed his face, stretching his hand to move his own piece.

    "So, why are you in Medford?" I asked, surprised.

    "That''s just how life is, play," he ordered, furrowing his brow obviously changing the subject.

    We continued playing in silence; surprisingly, Case took a short time to think about each move. It was, to some extent, relaxing.

    "Why martial arts?" after a few developing moves on the board, I asked again, feeling confident with the position I was in.

    Looking at the board for a few seconds, Case remained silent without responding, "checkmate in ten," standing up, Case said without answering my question, walking to the ''kitchen'' of the trailer to pour himself a glass of water.

    His statement took me by surprise; the game was practically textbook perfect, I hadn''t made any very serious mistakes at any point, and I felt confident in the direction we were taking. Surely, all that confidence and calmness in developing my game as the books say had blinded me. After studying the position, I could see the muscular man''s checkmate.

    "You have to see at least five moves ahead of your opponent," leaving his empty glass on the countertop, Case said with what I could recognize as a self-satisfied smile as he opened the door, symbolically ushering me out of his house.

    "This won''t end here; I''ll win tomorrow," jokingly, I said as I passed by the man as a farewell, leaving the trailer with my things in hand.

    "Good luck with that," I managed to hear before the trailer door slammed shut.

    Arriving home, as almost always since I had started training with Case, my family was getting ready for dinner.

    The next day, as promised by Ms. Ingram, we had an algebra test, "as you all know, this test''ll count for twenty-five percent of your final grade," as she handed out the test sheets, Ms. Ingram said, "be sure to show all your work," she continued, finishing handing out the sheets and standing at the front of the classroom in full view of everyone, "if you get stuck on a question, move on and come back to it at the end."

    Walking to her desk, the teacher took a seat, apparently remembering something, she raised her head seriously, looking at everyone. "And I shouldn''t have to say this, but if there''s any cheating, I will see it," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I got eyes in the back of my head," she continued threateningly. "I got more eyes than a potato," she finished, sweeping her gaze over everyone in the classroom.

    "Ms. Ingram," raising his hand straight up to his body, Sheldon said.

    "Yeah, Sheldon," with disappointment on her face after giving a small sigh, Ms. Ingram nodded to him.

    "I''m done," calmly said Sheldon, making me sigh slightly as I continued with my own work; it was really an easy test, obviously Sheldon would finish it in a few minutes.

    "What?" incredulous, Ms. Ingram asked.

    "I enjoyed it very much," assured Sheldon, "I''ll take another if you have one," he continued with decorum.

    "No, I don''t have another one," still incredulous, Ms. Ingram denied the boy, causing Sheldon to lower his head slightly in disappointment, "just read ahead in the textbook."

    "Oh, boy," excitedly, Sheldon said, quickly opening his backpack to take out his book.

    A couple of minutes later, I had finished my own test, ''accidentally'' leaving it aside on my desk, visible enough for Brock next to me, following the previous indication Ms. Ingram had given to Sheldon, I took out my own book from my backpack, one of the ones I had borrowed from the hospital library to study on my own.

    At the end of the class, after we all handed in our tests at the teacher''s desk, we left discussing the difficulty of the test, "you probably didn''t realize, but your test was perfectly positioned for me to see it, but I promise I didn''t copy it exactly the same," admitted Brock with what seemed to be a little regret.

    "Oh yeah?" I asked, pretending to be surprised, making Alan chuckle amusedly beside me, "don''t worry about that," I assured him, lightly tapping his shoulder.

    "It''s not fair," offended, Georgie said, "you''re lucky to have chosen that seat, I had to do this," stopping and checking his surroundings in the hallway, Georgie lifted one of his legs, showing us the sole of his shoe, where many things were written.

    "That''s a good plan, wish I had thought of it," frustrated, David said, apparently being the one who did the worst of all of us.

    Later that day at the hospital, word had spread about how my name appeared in an important article; apparently, Dr. Cuddy had boasted about it in some sort of meeting with the department heads.

    "PJ!" as I walked through one of the hospital corridors after greeting many people and receiving their congratulations, I heard Mom''s characteristic voice somewhat agitated apparently as she walked quickly through the hospital.

    "Mom?" I asked as internally I berated myself for not thinking earlier about how to explain everything at the moment when obviously my family would find out.

    "What''s this about your name being in a journal article?" fortunately for me, Mom was cheerful as she reached my side, taking me by the arms with excitement, "I don''t understand what it''s about, but your name is there next to the hospital''s name," I could feel her hands squeezing my arms with a surprising strength for a woman of her stature.

    "Dr. House, as part of my studies, gave me contact with Dr. Thomas, and I only helped with small things; the doctor was very kind to include me," I said quickly.

    "Oh PJ, I''m so proud, no matter how small what you did was, it''s still impressive," releasing my arms for a few seconds to give me a quick hug, the woman said affectionately, "but," she continued, pulling away and, to my misfortune, taking my arms again in her strong grip, "why did I hear about this from Brenda in maternity and not from my own son?"

    "I''m sorry, Mom, I think I saw it as some kind of assignment and didn''t want, I don''t know, to bore you with it," I said, failing to find a better excuse; I had really forgotten.

    "Oh PJ, nothing you say would be boring to us, much less to me," softening her reaction, the pregnant woman completely believed my excuse.

    After chatting a few more moments with Mom about the article before she had to return to her ''station'' at work, I arrived at House''s office where he, along with the other three doctors, was talking seriously about something until I entered the room.

    "Uh, it got quiet when the teenager everyone in the hospital has been talking about enters the room; what could we be talking about?" sarcastically asked House from behind his desk.

    "I don''t think it has anything to do with a plan to kidnap the president, right?" I asked, imitating his sarcasm as I left my things, looking at the people in the room suspiciously.

    "Okay, who told the kid?" annoyed, House raised his hands, "we said it was a secret," he continued, looking at the other doctors, less Chase, who were not amused.

    "Congratulations, PJ, you must be the youngest person to appear in such an important medical article," getting to her feet amiably, Cameron said as she gave me a quick hug.

    "That''s not true, I''m pretty sure the Japanese during the second war did experiments with children younger than him and had to register it somewhere, right?" said House cynically.

    "Don''t listen to him; he''s just jealous," Cameron continued before returning to her seat and making way for Case, who was also ready to congratulate me.

    "Impressive work, mate," less professionally than Cameron, Chase lightly tapped my shoulder, smiling widely.

    "Thanks," I sincerely said, grateful to both doctors, not expecting anything more from the others in the room.

    "Congratulations," from his seat, still seated, Dr. Foreman surprisingly and, to my mistaken notice, nodded slightly.

    "Oh no, not you," frustrated again, House said, "I thought I''d have you to take the kid down a notch." House continued, pointing at Dr. Foreman, and honestly, I thought the same. "Cuddy was jumping for joy, the nurses are swooning over him, Cameron is her usual nice self, and Chase, well, he''s Chase," House listed with disdain, "but you, Foreman, you hate the kid," House finished in defeat.

    "I don''t hate him," Dr. Foreman quickly and embarrassedly defended himself, "it''s just that I used to think you were making a big mistake allowing him to be here," he continued, pointing at House.

    "Well, thanks," I said at his change of heart.

    "Stop it, no more congratulations," raising his hand in desperation, House said, silencing Dr. Foreman, "just look at what you''ve achieved, that arrogant smile," House continued, pointing at me.

    "It''s just you, House," suddenly entering through the office door, Dr. Wilson said, "PJ deserves the congratulations; not everyone has to be miserable geniuses." Arriving next to me and putting his hand on my shoulder, the doctor continued, "You too, of course," defeatedly House said with his head down.

    "Congratulations, PJ, I read the article, it''s amazing," with Dr. Wilson''s characteristic kindness, the man said, offering a handshake.

    "Thanks, but it was all the work of Dr. Thomas and Dr. Murray; I just helped a little at the end," I said.

    "Don''t be modest; it''s a great achievement to be credited in an article like that," smiling, Dr. Wilson said.

    "Modest," spitting out the word, House said as he stood up, "come on, kid, I heard they need hands for rectal exams; I''m going to teach you how to do one properly," walking out of the office, House continued.

    "Don''t let his attitude drag you down, PJ," snorting, Dr. Wilson said, "you can be proud of what you achieved; not many people can say they''re involved in such an impressive article, let alone someone your age."

    "Yeah, I''m pretty proud, thanks, doctor," shaking hands with Dr. Wilson again, I quietly said goodbye to the other doctors in the office, leaving behind House.

    Having me wear a lab coat with his name on it, House forced me to perform several rectal exams; it was certainly humiliating to an extreme, but I couldn''t imagine how humiliating it would be for the patient to find out that I was the one doing it, added to the fact that House, throughout the entirety of the exams, was just in one of the corners playing on his handheld console at a high volume.

    After the psychological ''punishment'' that House applied to me for receiving congratulations in the hospital, presumably to somehow prevent the idea of receiving attention from getting to my head, I went to my training with Case after washing my hands several times.

    "You''re late," with his seemingly ever-present furrowed brow, Case said as he helped Tim practice his punches.

    "Sorry, had my fingers in someone''s rectum," quickly changing my clothes, I stretched for a few seconds before starting my regular training.

    "I''ve never heard that excuse in my life," Case said, bewildered, "but good for you, I guess."

    "Yeah," a bit out of breath, Tim cheerfully said, "good for you."

    "Yeah," I replied, starting to kick one of the punching bags that Case had surely built himself.

    Like other days, Case had prepared what he was going to teach me; he wasn''t a very friendly person, but at least he was a dedicated teacher.

    "Now, with your opponent on the ground, you have to control their head and arms," said Case beside me as he instructed me on how to move; it was Tim''s turn to serve as a test dummy, "hips down," he ordered, pushing my back with his foot.

    "Good," said Case dryly, "you''re in the north-south position right now; you''re in control. You can navigate around Tim''s defenses and, using pressure and your weight correctly, position yourself wherever you want to do whatever you want," he continued, walking calmly around us, "move."

    After getting off Tim, Case calmly positioned himself on top of him in the same spot where I had been, "from here, you have several options; if you feel this elbow coming out a bit, you can pass your arm underneath and, using your weight, lay back, applying pressure on his shoulder, like this," he said, demonstrating, causing Tim to tap out a few seconds later.

    "I got it," I said, kneeling back down, ready.

    Like that, Case had Tim and me switch positions, applying different locks to each other and showing us how to escape from them or how to apply them to prevent it from being easy to escape from them.

    "Do you want to play?" After all the training and saying goodbye to Tim, I asked Case, who surprisingly hadn''t gone back to his trailer right away.

    "Yeah," Case responded seriously, indicating with his head that I should follow him, "wait here," pointing to a small table with two chairs outside his trailer, Case ordered.

    This wasn''t here before, taking one of the chairs, I sat down, waiting for Case to come out with the board and pieces.

    "Your turn with the black pieces," putting the game on the table, Case said.

    "All right," I responded, arranging the pieces, "any reason we''re not inside the trailer?" I asked as Case finished setting up his own pieces to move one of his central pawns.

    "You''re coming from having your fingers in someone''s ''rectum''; I don''t want you to get the wrong idea," joking lightly, Case said.

    "Ah, so you don''t mind if I ask you questions about your life; I''m glad, yesterday I noticed some discomfort from you when answering my questions," I said with false relief, realizing that it made the man uncomfortable for someone to inquire about his life.

    "You''re funny," with an extremely furrowed brow and without smiling, the frankly very intimidating man said, making me immediately regret my jokes; I''ve probably been around House for too long.

    During our chess game, which Case won again, he hardly responded to any of my questions, causing me to stop talking altogether to focus on the game.

    "It was a good game; you still need to learn to think a few moves ahead," Case said, taking the pieces to put them away.

    The next day was the delivery of graded exams by Mrs. Ingram. Sheldon, who was the only one to volunteer, was distributing the papers, giving comments to each person before moving on to the next. "Surprisingly average work, a B plus," Sheldon said, handing Brock''s exam to me.

    "As expected, an A plus," Sheldon handed me my own exam, nodding slightly, much more formal than any child should be. "Thank you, sir," I mimicked his formality, inclining my head before he moved on to the next classmate until the last one.

    The day continued like the previous one, with House, feeling that rectal exams weren''t humiliating enough those days, forcing me as a "lesson" to assist in cleaning infected wounds in the emergency room.

    With Case, it was more of the same, physical and technique training before a game, this time a bit longer than before. My focus was entirely on trying to predict Case''s next moves before and after each of mine, which unfortunately didn''t lead to success, resulting in another defeat.

    "You''re thinking too much," was all Case had to offer as a farewell before entering his trailer.

    "Yeah, or not enough," I said to no one before walking to my car.

    The next day, during lunch, I went to the library on my own to see if there were any useful books on chess. "Hello, Miss Hutchins, did you do something different with your hair?" I asked, resting my arms on the librarian''s desk with a friendly smile.

    "Oh, PJ, yes, I did actually, thank you for noticing, you''ve been the only one today," she immediately put aside what she was doing with a big smile.

    "It looks great; I noticed right away," I said, I noticed more than just her hair, I observed things like the faint smell of bad breath masked by gum, a slight swelling in her eyelids, a rash on her neck, and a tiny Tupperware with an unappetizing salad. Miss Hutchins was, among other things, trying to lose weight, even taking medication for it.

    "You''re very kind, PJ," she said with a big smile. "If only you were a few years older," she added in a murmured tone that I managed to hear.

    "It''s nothing. I was looking for chess books," I said a little uncomfortable, ignoring her comment.

    "Oh, of course, over there," the librarian pointed in a direction inside the library.

    "Thank you, Miss Hutchins," tapping the desk lightly, I said, preparing to leave.

    "I told you, PJ, call me Sheryl," she said as she walked in the direction she had given me.

    Yeah, no.

    At one of the tables in the library, and by a few bookshelves where I found a few chess books, Sheldon and Tam were sitting, eating their lunch quietly.

    "Hey, what are you doing here?" with two books under my arm, I approached the kids, greeting Tam for the first time.

    "Oh, PJ Duncan, my friend, I see you''re interested in chess," Tam said, pointing to the books under my arm in his usual strange way of referring to me.

    "Uh, I love those books, good choice, PJ," Sheldon added. "And to answer your question, the library is usually empty at lunchtime, so it''s a quiet place to enjoy your meal," the boy continued.

    "You''re right," taking a seat in one of the free chairs, I said after ''listening'' to the silence for a few seconds. "What''s this?" picking up a sheet of paper from the table, I asked.

    "Dear Coach Wilkins, please excuse my son, Sheldon, from P.E.," I read before Sheldon could take the note from my hands, "he has experienced a testicular hernia and needs to rest for the next six to eight weeks," I continued, "uh, that sounds bad," I said, amused by the worried look on my little friend''s face. "Sincerely, Mary Cooper," I finished reading the obviously fake note.

    "I didn''t know you''d experienced a testicular hernia, buddy. I''m so sorry," I said, avoiding laughing at Sheldon''s change of expression, from concern to extreme relief when he saw that his fake note had managed to fool me.

    "I hope you get better," tapping Sheldon''s shoulder lightly, I said. "Tam, always a pleasure," I continued, saying goodbye to the Vietnamese boy, who cheerfully returned the gesture as he walked towards Miss Hutchins''s desk.

    "By the way, Sheldon, fold your fake note," I said, enjoying the surprise on the boy''s face, "when your mom ''gives'' you a note, you always fold it before putting it in your backpack; that way, it''s more believable," I finished smiling at the startled boy before turning back to Miss Hutchins.

    The days passed with my routine unchanged. On Saturday, as promised to Gabe, we went to the monster truck show with Bob; it was a spectacular show, and everyone, especially Gabe, enjoyed it to the fullest.

    When Monday came around at lunchtime, I went to the library again to return the books after a short chat with Miss Hutchins. Also, inside the library, I found Sheldon, this time by himself, pushing a small cart full of books while arranging them with a big smile.

    The week went by, and the weekend arrived. Early Saturday morning, after my usual Saturday morning routine, the doorbell rang. As I usually do after exercising, I watched TV with Gabe for a while before doing other things, so I was the closest to the door.

    "Tam," I said, surprised to find the Vietnamese boy with Sheldon and Billy Sparks.

    "Hello, PJ. Tam will show us a board game, and we were wondering if you wanted to join," Sheldon said with his usual formality when speaking.

    "I''m Billy," Billy Sparks said with his ever-present innocent smile.

    "I know, Billy," I said, always surprised by the obvious cognitive issues the boy had. "Yeah, sure. Hey, Gabe, let''s play. Come over," I continued, not giving my brother a chance to refuse.

    In the Cooper''s garage, Tam explained the rules of his board game, Dungeons and Dragons. It had dozens of rules, as the book Tam had said, but the simplest ones to play a game were summarized by the Vietnamese boy.

    The game wasn''t entirely simple, but once we played for a few minutes, it was easy to get used to it. The funny thing about the situation was that apparently, the game relied entirely on the players'' imagination. While Tam acted as the story generator, the "dungeon master," the rest of us had almost absolute freedom to do whatever we wanted, as long as it was within the rules established by Tam and Sheldon at the beginning of the game.

    "You walk down a hallway and come to a wooden chest," Tam, doing his job, was narrating what was happening with the darkest voice the boy could muster.

    "Mister Cure-ious mender, what do you do?" Tam asked me, using the name I had chosen for my character, a cleric.

    "I want to use the spell to search for traps," I said, making Tam nod, allowing me to roll a die that belonged to him. "Another twenty," surprised by the result, the Vietnamese boy said. I had managed to roll several "natural twenties," as Tam had called them, during our game. "Ultimately, there are no traps in the chest beyond a tiny splinter that someone could get if they touched it carelessly," Tam continued, inventing funny things.

    "That''s dangerous," worried Sheldon said.

    "Fire Beak, what do you do?" the next one after me was Billy, who, I was sure, didn''t understand what was happening the whole time we were here.

    "Billy?" After a moment of Billy not reacting to the mention of his character''s name, Tam spoke again.

    "What?" Intrigued but still with his innocent smile, he asked.

    "You are Fire Beak," Tam reminded him, being the third time he had to do so throughout the game.

    "Okay," Billy said, smiling even more.

    "So what do you do?" Tam asked again.

    "I''m Fire Beak," proudly stated Billy. There was definitely something off about this kid.

    "Hey guys," entering through the garage door, Mrs. Cooper, with a tray full of cookies, said, smiling, "I brought snacks." Placing the tray on the table, she continued.

    "Thanks, Mom," Sheldon said, taking one of the cookies.

    "What are y''all playing, Chutes and Ladders?" Seeing the small figurines on the table, Mrs. Cooper, in what I could discern as concern, asked.

    "Tam is teaching us Dungeons and Dragons," Sheldon said formally. "We''re on a quest to find the pitchfork of a devil named Baalzebul," he explained.

    "I''m Fire Beak," added Billy.

    "And is this the devil?" Mrs. Cooper asked again, taking the small figurine from the table, her growing concern becoming more obvious.

    Clearly, the religious woman was having a silent panic attack.

    "No, he''s just a monster who doesn''t wear pants," Tam calmly explained with a friendly smile. Yeah, that doesn''t help.

    "I see," Mrs. Cooper said slowly as she placed the figurine back on the table. "Yes, he''s just hanging right out there, isn''t he?" she asked, still keeping her gaze fixed on the figurine.

    "Mrs. Cooper, in one way or another, we''re playing a game where we join forces to fight against evil, in this case, a demon. I can''t think of anything more Christian than that," I said, trying to ease the panic the woman was experiencing.

    "Well, not really, this isn''t Christian at all. Your character would be considered pagan by Christian standards; Billy''s character uses magical powers, and historically, magic and Christianity don''t get along very well," Sheldon said, throwing my little effort in the trash.

    "Okay, well," elongating her words, Mrs. Cooper began to walk robotically out of the garage, "you kids have fun," she said before completely leaving.

    "Great," I said, shaking my head slightly. I was sure the game would end in a few moments.

    "What?" Sheldon asked, tilting his head.

    "Oh, you''ll find out very..." I was saying, but Mrs. Cooper''s voice interrupted me. "George!" from inside her house, the woman shouted loudly, "soon," I finished.

    A few minutes later, Mrs. Cooper, closely followed by her husband Mr. Cooper, interrupted our game, borrowing everything Tam had brought with him.

    On Monday, when I returned home, Bob, as at the beginning of every month, was waiting with several sheets in front of him on the living room table.

    "Champ!" excitedly, Bob said, indicating that I should come closer. "You know I don''t understand all this very well, just the total, it grew again," taking one of the sheets from the pile, Bob said, pointing to a number he had previously marked.

    "It''s a little more than double," I said, having added up the totals mentally.

    "Don''t you think it would be a good idea to withdraw something?" Bob asked nervously, surely thinking about the total amount of money on his own. Every time we received correspondence from Warren regarding the growth of my portfolio, Bob always had the same problem. Upon seeing that there was indeed growth, the man would panic, thinking it might go down, which could be true if it were any other investment, but in this case, it wasn''t.

    "No, Dad, everything has to stay for at least a few more years. In fact, if I get more money, I''d like to invest that too," for the third time since we received this correspondence, I reassured the man, who nodded slightly before carefully putting the papers away in a box.

    The week passed without any issues. The next game of the season occurred as usual on Thursday, where without Sheldon''s plays, it ended in a rather wide defeat for us. Our major problem was the defensive line, which was almost always leaky. Unfortunately, part of that problem was Georgie, who seemed increasingly physically overwhelmed by our opponents.

    The weekend, the Coopers organized a barbecue to watch a game. Helping Bob carry his cooler, we arrived at the Cooper''s house where everything was already set up in the backyard.

    "Aces, tell me you have alcohol there," from the table in the backyard, Meemaw, with a soda in her hand, exclaimed in desperation.

    "Here you go, Meemaw," I said, handing her a beer.

    "Hello, PJ," next to the old lady, Sheldon, with a large book, greeted me formally.

    "Sheldon," as always, mimicking his formality, I greeted the boy, taking a soda for myself.

    "I was wondering if you were interested in joining my religion, Mathology. It''s based on a universal binary system," the boy calmly said.

    "Sure, why not," sitting down next to Gabe, who was reading one of his comics, I replied, amused.

    "Perfect, that makes two congregants," excitedly nodded Sheldon.

    "Tell me, does your religion celebrate anything? Christmas, for example," I asked, smiling at Meemaw, who was also amused by my interaction with her grandson.

    "Of course, we have celebrations, March fourteenth, for example," Sheldon said obviously.

    "What''s that?" Not recognizing the date, Meemaw asked.

    "Three point fourteen, pi," I explained, quickly understanding what the boy meant.

    "Correct," nodding happily, Sheldon said.

    "Speaking of Christmas," as Mrs. Cooper set plates on the table with different foods before the barbecue was fully ready, Meemaw said, catching her attention, "I invited Merle and his family for this Christmas," with a big smile, the woman said.

    "Uncle Merle is coming; it''ll be an incredible change for them, going from the icy weather of Minnesota to the heat of Texas," smiling, Mrs. Cooper said.

    "Oh, yes, but they''re already used to change, ever since you-know-who..." Meemaw said, making strange facial expressions as she moved her body.

    "Then it''s real?" Surprised, Mrs. Cooper asked, "I always thought he was a bit strange, but I thought that working on the farm, you know, man''s work, would cure him..." embarrassed, the religious woman continued, "may the Lord forgive him," looking up to the sky, she finished.

    The meal with the Coopers, as well as the game, were very interesting. Both Bob and Mr. Cooper performed their duties at the grill, making burgers non-stop for hours, while drinking beer and watching the game. Surprisingly, Sheldon and Gabe started chatting on their own about the comics each one had, and Missy and Teddy, separated from everyone else, shared secrets by whispering to each other.

    The days passed, and during the following week at the Cooper''s house, something had happened. Mrs. Cooper, along with her younger children and a large suitcase, on Monday night when I returned from my training, headed towards Meemaw''s house.

    Georgie at school didn''t bring his usual lunch, causing the teenager to have to collect from others.

    On Wednesday of that week, the Nobel Prize ceremony would take place. Despite knowing very well who would receive the prize, I stayed up until the early hours of the morning to listen to the broadcast on Bob''s radio.

    The winners of the Nobel Prize in Medicine, as in my past life, had not changed. Doctors Thomas and Murray gave a brief speech in which they thanked all the important people in their lives and those who had made the research of the article possible.

    The procedure was something that would help thousands of people around the world over time, and I was extremely proud to be at least a part of it.

    "Did he win?" Surprising me from behind, Mom in her robe with tiredness on her face asked.

    "Yes, he won," I said, smiling happily.

    "Oh, PJ, congratulations," walking over to the couch, Mom said as she hugged my neck.

    "Thank you," I said, even though I hadn''t won it.

    At school, obviously no one, beyond Sheldon, who apparently had also listened to the awards, knew that the Nobel Prizes had even been awarded. The boy had mainly listened for the Physics prize, but out of respect, he had listened to the others too.

    When I arrived at the hospital, it seemed that nothing had changed. The nurses, with their usual joy at seeing me, greeted me when I arrived.

    In House''s office, only he was sitting there with a furrowed brow. "If you let it get to your head, I''ll make your life hell," he said annoyed when I entered.

    "Yeah, yeah, I get it," I said, downplaying the issue, "I understand that my participation was almost nil. You don''t have to worry about it getting to my head at all," I said, getting my things ready to leave. "Wait," House said, pulling an envelope out of his coat, open.

    "So, are you going to keep reading my mail? I remember your excuse was that it was addressed to you; this one isn''t," I said, showing my name on the front of the envelope.

    "Would you believe me if I said it arrived like that?" House asked.

    "No," I replied, taking out the contents of the envelope, a letter from Doctor Thomas.

    In the letter, he thanked me again for my contribution to the research. "Also, my dear teenage friend, you are cordially invited to a party my friends and family will make. Attached to the letter are your plane tickets. See you this Friday at Logan International Airport," I read raising my voice, glancing sideways at House, who was playing with a ball, ignoring my gaze.

    "What?" he asked with obvious feigned innocence.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American and not a doctor.

    9k words, see you later :D.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 51

    Please Leave a Review and a Comment.

    If I had to put in a ranking the pages where I publish the story, regarding the support in the form of comments/reviews, RR would possibly be in the top 5 out of 6, possibly there is something I do wrong, I also know that the vast majority of the comments I won''t answer what they leave and that''s something I''m going to change, but if anyone has an idea of ??what I''m doing wrong, I''d like to know what you think I can change.

    Enjoy

    ---

    "So, do I have to look for the tickets up someone''s butt?" I sarcastically asked.

    "That would actually be a great plan, unfortunately, to do that, I would have to put them in there first," House said with feigned disappointment a moment later, reaching back into his coat pocket and taking out two plane tickets.

    "You''re welcome. I could have ''forgotten'' to give you the return one, but I''m feeling generous," the man said with a fake smile as he handed me the two tickets.

    "I''m touched by your generosity," I said apathetically, tucking the tickets into my pants, not without checking them first. Knowing House, the man could easily consider it a joke to give out fake tickets somehow.

    "Well, kid, I''ll leave you to it. I have a date with Carmen and her amnesia in the maternity lounge," House said, rising to his feet with restrained excitement. "By the way, what are you doing today?" he asked, surprising me, the question itself was quite friendly, something House obviously wouldn''t do.

    "What''s going on?" I asked suspiciously, looking at the man.

    "I can''t be interested in my protege''s day?" House asked with exaggerated offense on his face.

    "No, you don''t ask those questions," I said bluntly.

    "Would you believe me if I said I changed and now I care about you?" House asked, abruptly stopping, putting, in his opinion, a touching expression on his face.

    "No, and don''t do that, it''s scary," I repeated, stepping back from the strange man.

    Sighing, House straightened up again, "no humility, huh?" he said ironically, shaking his head.

    "You know very well that I''m going to the skills lab," exasperated by his jokes, I said, rolling my eyes.

    "Was it that hard?" raising his free hand dramatically, House exaggeratedly asked, "have a great day at the skills lab," he said again, acting strangely, lightly tapping my shoulder before leaving his office.

    "Thank you," I said, puzzled. House was obviously planning something.

    Leaving the strange behavior of House in the back of my mind, I headed to the skills lab that I usually used to practice everything I had once learned along with the new techniques I found in various library books.

    After several minutes of performing suture techniques one after another, following my notes step by step, the door of the lab opened. "I knew it was a lie," Dr. Wilson said with a small victorious smile.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled by the man.

    "House," Dr. Wilson simply said by way of explanation.

    "I was supposed to be in House''s office when you arrived to take you to the boardroom," the man indicated with a hint of anxiety that I should follow him.

    "The boardroom?" I asked.

    "Yes, you''ve impressed a lot of people, PJ," placing his hand on my shoulder, the man said, "Cuddy reported your achievement to the board, and they want to meet you. We were supposed to be there several minutes ago," he said hurriedly.

    Following Dr. Wilson through the hospital corridors, we arrived at a room I had never been in before.

    Besides Dr. Wilson, only eight other people in the room were wearing lab coats, but a few dozen others like Dr. Cuddy were dressed formally.

    "This must be the one everyone''s talking about, a little late, but all good things tend to come last, right?" one of the formally dressed people, a tall woman with glasses, said with a small professional smile.

    "PJ, this is President Linda Hagemeyer, the president of East Texas Tech," Dr. Cuddy said, stepping forward to stand beside the president, her eyes widening in my direction.

    "Pleased to meet you, President Hagemeyer," feeling uncomfortable in the presence of so many well-dressed people, I said, nodding as formally as possible, eliciting a slight nod from Dr. Cuddy with a smile.

    "Oh, please don''t be so formal, come, take a seat," the woman said, maintaining a professional smile as she pointed to a chair at the end of a long table.

    As I sat down, I noticed how the vast majority of people in the room kept their attention fixed on me with smiles similar to President Hagmeyer''s. Strangely, I felt like I was back in the school hallways when I was the center of attention. "Oh, forgive my rudeness," President Hagmeyer said, taking a seat at the other end of the table.

    "I''m sure you know most of the people in lab coats in this room right now, the department heads," the president continued, pointing with her open palm to one side of the table.

    I didn''t know everyone, in fact, I only knew two doctors out of the nine present, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Stratford.

    The doctors maintained friendly smiles on their faces as they silently greeted me with a nod of their heads.

    "And on this side, we have the legal and public relations team from both the hospital and the university," the president continued, pointing in the same manner across from the doctors.

    The legal and public relations team, on the other hand, had strange smiles as they unconsciously leaned slightly towards me, which was slightly disturbing.

    "I don''t know if you''re aware of what you''ve done for this hospital," leaning back in her chair, President Hagmaeyer said, "being recognized in a Nobel Prize-winning article is an achievement that many hospitals and universities dream of having, and until recently, it was my understanding that the university hospital had indeed achieved this feat," surprisingly keeping her smile completely stable, the president continued.

    I noticed Dr. Cuddy next to me slightly nodding her head with a forced smile.

    "And what a surprise to discover that it was all thanks to a brilliant teenager who wasn''t listed in any university records," clasping her hands while still maintaining her smile, the president said.

    "So, I organized a meeting to, on behalf of the university, thank you for your incredible achievement and to find out about your experience here?" widening her smile slightly, opening her shoulders, basically being more open with her body language, the woman asked.

    After finishing her little speech, once again all the eyes of the people present fell on me.

    "It''s been excellent, Dr. Cuddy and all the doctors at the hospital have been very helpful," I replied unsurely. I didn''t really know what response the president was looking for, but judging by Dr. Cuddy''s small reaction, it was possibly the best response I could have given.

    "I''m very glad to hear that. Now, onto the more important topic now, your mother works at the hospital, right?" still smiling, the woman asked.

    "Yes, she''s a nurse," I replied calmly.

    "That''s perfect, we would like to organize a meeting with your parents to discuss your formal registration at the university, of course, everything would be free," maintaining her professional smile, the woman continued.

    "I''m sorry, what would that entail?" I asked, beginning to form a theory about the strange behavior of the non-medical people present.

    "Oh, just an ''update'' to the benefits you already have, you''ll be able to attend any class you want, for example," the president said with a bit of nervousness.

    I understood what was happening, of course I knew what being recognized in a Nobel Prize-winning article meant for a university, what the president was doing was securing the university''s name in anything I could achieve in the future, hence the presence of the public relations department.

    "Dr. Cuddy also mentioned some time ago about the possibility of witnessing any surgery I wanted, of course, only as an observer," I innocently said.

    "Oh," removing her smile for practically a fraction of a second, the president directed her attention to the representatives of the legal department who immediately nodded almost imperceptibly, "of course, consider it done," returning to her previous position, the president nodded cheerfully.

    "And let''s say, if one of these days I wanted to publish an article on my own, would I have the support of the university?" I asked, gauging the president''s response through her body language. Usually, it''s necessary to have a title for any medical journal to accept articles for publication, but in some cases, journals allow collaboration from authors who can demonstrate their knowledge without the need for a title, in this case with the support of a university.

    "Of course," the president said, pleasantly surprised.

    "Then I can''t say I''m not excited. Thank you very much for this opportunity," I said, smiling widely. I knew that the president would possibly be willing to offer me anything as long as I was formally registered at the university. Now, until I graduated from my formal education, any achievement would be shared with the university.

    I had no problem with the idea of sharing recognition. After all, the hospital, and therefore the university, owning the property allowed me access to equipment that I wouldn''t otherwise be able to access.

    "I''m very happy to hear that. Now, all we need is some papers for your parents to sign, and we can officially recognize you as a university member," the president said cheerfully, making the public relations representatives strangely applaud with excitement.

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    Following the public relations representatives, the doctors and lawyers also began to applaud. The whole situation seemed embarrassing to me; nearly twenty unknown person were calmly giving an ovation to my achievements.

    After the president''s announcement, the people, specifically the doctors, in the room approached me personally to congratulate me on my achievements. After each excited congratulation, each doctor took a few seconds to introduce themselves and offer their help whenever needed. All those I hadn''t met previously seemed especially interested in me remembering them.

    "The way you asked for more things was a smart move," the last to approach me, Dr. Wilson, in his friendly manner, said, avoiding being heard by other people.

    "I feel like I could''ve asked for more," I murmured.

    "You could''ve asked for a parking spot," Dr. Wilson said, shrugging.

    "PJ, we''ll see each other again in a few days. I''ll get in touch with your parents to arrange a meeting. Again, let me thank you and congratulate you for your contribution," the president said formally offering a handshake. "I expect great things from you as you continue with excellent work."

    The president, along with the public relations teams and legal representatives, left the room.

    With the ''external'' people from the hospital out of the vicinity, the doctors still present thought it appropriate to approach me again. From how they boasted about their achievements and advancements, it seemed like the doctors were trying to impress me. Fortunately, all the topics discussed were about medical achievements; otherwise, I would have found a way to escape the situation.

    "I think that''s enough; we all still have work to do," Dr. Cuddy said over the voices of the doctors, managing to get the excited doctors to leave the room a moment later.

    "Thank you for speaking well of me with the president," Dr. Cuddy said, approaching.

    "It''s nothing," I assured her, "I didn''t know I was a secret to the university though," I said with a slight ironic smile. I could expect that from House, but Dr. Cuddy? It seems I don''t know the woman well enough to deduce her actions.

    "You weren''t a secret at all. I accepted having you here because House showed me that Dr. Thomas had taken an interest in you, but I didn''t think it would be enough for the university to allow you to stay," Dr. Cuddy said assertively. "But with you adding the university''s name to the article, that''s settled," Dr. Cuddy continued, relieved, as we walked out of the meeting room.

    The day continued, and I was able to return to the skills lab without many more people congratulating me or trying to dazzle me with their own achievements, fortunately.

    Like every day after the hospital, I went to my training with Case, where we practiced different techniques of punches, kicks, and submissions once again.

    "I won''t be able to come tomorrow or Saturday," at the end of the training, playing our chess game, I told Case.

    "Okay," the muscular man said without much importance, keeping his attention on the board.

    "I''m going to Boston," I continued, trying to start a conversation.

    "Look, kid, as I told you the first time, come often or don''t come at all, missing two days is fine, you don''t have to give me excuses," Case said, removing his attention from the board with his ever-present frown.

    "I understand, I just wanted to make some conversation. I like our games, but silence can be a bit awkward," I quickly defended myself.

    Case, maintaining his frown, stared at me for several seconds. "Okay, why are you going to Boston?" lowering his head slightly and losing the frown for a few seconds, Case asked.

    "That''s it, was that so hard?" I asked cheerfully, receiving only a raised eyebrow from Case.

    Accepting my defeat, I forgot the cheerful attitude and briefly told Case the reason for my trip.

    "So, you''re like a genius?" during the story, Case, getting more comfortable, asked interested.

    "I''ve studied a lot," I explained.

    "I knew it wasn''t normal for a child to know so much about ligaments and bones," Case nodded slightly.

    "Well, ligaments and bones are a big part of studying medicine," I joked.

    "Winning this award sounds like a great achievement," Case said, moving one of his pieces.

    "Yes, the Nobel Prize is one of the highest recognitions a doctor can receive," I calculated my next move while response.

    "So, now you''re famous, will you be in the newspapers?" Case asked, raising one of his eyebrows, seemingly more interested in our conversation.

    "Oh no," I responded immediately, more attention? No thanks. I needed recognition within the medical community; I wasn''t interested in any fame or public recognition.

    "I appeared in the newspaper a few times," surprisingly, Case said, sharing a piece of his past, "I won some jiu-jitsu tournaments," he explained.

    "When did this happen?" I asked, interested in the small part of my ''sensei''s'', as Tim called him, past.

    "Many years ago," lost in his memories, Case replied.

    "Was this when you were in Brazil?" I asked again, seizing the rare opportunity when Case was actually willing to talk.

    "Checkmate in seven," Case interlocked his arms, ignoring my question.

    I knew that gradually the man would be willing to tell his interesting story, but in the meantime, I had lost another game.

    "You''re improving, but again, you''re focusing too much on the game and not on the player," cryptically, Case said, gathering his things before heading into his camper.

    "Okay," I half-understood his cryptic message, saying to myself before heading home.

    During dinner, I told my family about my invitation to Boston the next day. Bob readily agreed, a sentiment that Mom proudly shared.

    "So, your father will take you to school tomorrow, and then pick you up to go to the hospital. You need to pack," Mom said excitedly after dinner.

    "Yeah, don''t worry, I''ll do it later," I tried to reassure Mom, but apparently, she didn''t hear me as she walked out of earshot muttering things.

    As usual, after dinner, Bob, Gabe, and I trained in the garage. Despite training daily with Case, the man had also instructed me on the ''correct'' way to perform exercises to develop useful muscles so I can train in home with real weigths and not just some random sand bags.

    When we finished training as usual, only Bob and I remained behind, as Gabe, still very young, had to leave earlier to avoid any injuries.

    "You''re making so much progress, in everything" still in the garage before we left, Bob stopped me, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I''ve been saying it a lot lately, PJ, but still, I feel like I''m not saying it enough. I''m so proud of you," he continued, pulling me into a hug.

    The hug lasted a few seconds until, pushing me slightly out of his embrace "come on, you''re all sweaty", Bob said playfully as he cleaned his hands in his shirt.

    "You''re one to talk," I replied with a smile, leaving the garage with him.

    I parted ways with Bob on my way to my room to grab clean clothes before taking a shower.

    In my room, my bed and part of Gabe''s bed were covered in clothes, specifically mine. Seeing Gabe on his own bed, the boy indicated to me with his eyes to our closet where Mom was constantly looking for clothes. "Oh, PJ, I have several options for you," turning and facing me with a big smile, Mom said, showing me shirts in her hands.

    "Mom, remember I''m only going for three days, right? I think I''ll be fine with just my backpack and some changes" I said worriedly, seeing the mess the petite woman had made.

    "Of course, I remember you''re going just three days, you need a lot of clothes so no backpack. Right now, it''s very cold in Boston you''ll need several changes," Mom said seriously, "in fact, I unpacked your coats and jackets. I can''t find your gloves, but you can buy some at the airport before heading out into the cold," she continued as she began to pack clothes into a suitcase.

    "I also took out your suit. The party is formal; you have to dress elegantly," grabbing a suit that I had only seen once while unpacking the boxes, Mom said.

    "I don''t think it''ll fit me anymore," taking it from the small woman''s hands, I said, looking at the slimness of the garment. I had grown enough in these months of training, and this suit was doubtlessly something PJ wore recently.

    "That''s a problem," comparing the size of my torso with the suit jacket, Mom said thoughtfully.

    "I can buy a piar in Boston as well, possibly even at the airport," I said, tossing the suit onto Gabe''s bed.

    "Yes, that would be best," Mom nodded slowly, saying, "Well, we''ll sort that out tomorrow," clapping once, Mom continued packing clothes into the suitcase.

    "I''m going to take a bath," I said, trying to ignore the scattered clothes in the room, grabbing some of my clean clothes from Gabe''s bed, I left the room to start my nightly routine.

    In the end, it didn''t really matter what clothes Mom chose; anything in my closet would be something I could wear without any problems.

    "Mom said to put your suitcase in the living room so Dad remembers to take it," Gabe said, apparently ready for bed, lying on his bed as I returned to my room.

    "Ok thanks," I said, picking up the suitcase, which was heavy enough for Mom, a woman just over four months pregnant, to carry without it being dangerous.

    Back in my room, dressed in my pajamas, I was ready to sleep. "PJ, are you still awake?" in the darkness of our room, Gabe asked, concern in his voice, suddenly breaking the silence.

    "What''s up, buddy?" I asked, trying to see the child in the darkness.

    "Where''s Boston?" Gabe asked, still with a hint of concern in his voice.

    "Boston is the capital city of Massachusetts, to the right of New York on a map," I calmly replied.

    "Is that very far?" Gabe asked weakly.

    "It''s almost a four-hour flight," I explained, "but hey, don''t worry, I''ll be back here by Sunday at the latest," I reassured my brother.

    "All right," much calmer, Gabe said, then surprisingly fell immediately asleep.

    That night, for some reason, I slept peacefully.

    The next day, as we had planned, Bob took me to school while Mom took Teddy and Gabe.

    At school, when I arrived at my locker in the morning, as was a daily tradition, Kat arrived a few moments later. "What did you do?" leaning on the locker next to mine, she asked, concerned.

    "I took some of my books out of my locker," I said, showing her my algebra book, jokingly.

    "With my dad" she clarified with annoyance, "he asked me to invite you to dinner," Kat continued, with a puzzled look on her face.

    "Really?" I asked, incredulous.

    "Yes, during dinner last night, he told me to ask you," Kat explained, still puzzled.

    "Well, it''s just something that happened at the hospital, nothing important," I said, not wanting to boast about such a trivial achievement to normal high school teenagers.

    "Well, whatever it was, it had Dad very excited; he was very insistent that you accept the invitation," Kat continued still puzzled by the whole thing.

    "I won''t be in town until Sunday night, so maybe next week," I said, "do you think that''s okay with your parents?" I asked.

    "Oh, yeah sure, Dad was just super interested in having a conversation with you I don''t think he mind if it''s tomorrow or in a week, and Mom was excited because she''ll finally get to meet you," Kat said, amused, still leaning on the locker.

    "Finally?" raising one of my eyebrows, I asked loftily, causing the teenager to lose her smile. "Strange."

    "What''s strange?" nervously, Kat asked.

    "Finally" I repeted growing a smile "that means she''s heard some things about me," narrowing my eyes, I said, making Kat tense up a bit. "Someone has told her a lot about me, but who?" slamming my locker shut, I asked, surprising Kat, "possibly your sister," adjusting my backpack on my shoulder, I pretended to theorize, avoiding smiling at the unconscious look of relief Kat made.

    "Well, whatever," taking pity on the teenager, I said, "thank your parents for me," I continued.

    The day at school passed without much else, and in the end, Bob was waiting in his truck ready to go to the airport.

    After nearly two hours of travel, outside the airport, Bob was helping me unload the suitcase from the trunk. "Does your mom know you''re only going for three days, right?" looking at the suitcase on the ground, Bob asked.

    "Yeah," staring at the suitcase next to Bob, I said, somewhat amused.

    "You would have been fine with a backpack," smiling and lightly tapping my shoulder, Bob said.

    "That''s what I said," smiling back at the man, I replied.

    "Well, we arrived with an hour and a half to spare, more than enough time to go through security," keeping one of his hands on my shoulder, Bob said, while checking the time with his other hand.

    "Thanks for bringing me," lifting the handle of the suitcase, I said, immediately pulled into a hug by the man.

    "You don''t have to thank me, PJ, do you have your cash?" Bob asked. When he picked me up from school some time ago, he brought along with my luggage some cash for anything I might need.

    Although I had my credit card with me, I couldn''t blindly rely on it; there might not be an ATM nearby.

    "Yes, don''t worry," hugging the tall man affectionately, I said calmly.

    "Good, when you get to Boston airport, remember to find a payphone to call home," Bob said seriously, stepping away from me.

    "I won''t forget," I assured him.

    "Okay," Bob said, sighing thoughtfully before smiling again, "go have fun, or whatever you brainiacs do," patting my back, Bob said as a farewell.

    "Sure, thanks, Dad," I replied, grabbing my luggage and walking into the airport.

    The last time I was at an airport was a few days after the attack, when airlines began selling commercial flights again. Airport security had been forced to improve; security checks were, for obvious reasons, much stricter, and the whole process was incredibly slow.

    After bidding farewell to Bob, passing through security took no more than ten minutes. My luggage wasn''t inspected by any officers, and my driver''s license was sufficient for identification. In less time than I had anticipated, I found myself inside a waiting area, waiting for my flight to be called for boarding.

    With nothing more than a few magazines handed out by airport staff, the next hour of waiting was extremely monotonous.

    When they finally called my flight to board, I took my place among the sea of people in line before entering the plane, finding my seat.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter. (Thanks for reminding me.)

    I know I promised to publish more chapters per week, and I wasn''t lying about that. However, midterm exam season has returned, so I have to study. But once I''m done with the exams, I''ll have 3-4 weeks of "calm" (help), so I''ll have more time to write.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 52

    The flight went smoothly, there was never even a hint of turbulence during the nearly four and a half hours, which anyone would appreciate while being in a pressurized tube at over thirty thousand feet altitude.

    Over the skies of Boston, just minutes before landing, I could see almost everything was covered in snow.

    After landing, inside the airport, trying to retain as much body heat as possible in the thick jacket mom had unpacked from one of the PJ boxes, before going to retrieve my luggage from the conveyor belts, I found a payphone which I used to call home.

    "Hello?" on the other end of the line, Gabe''s voice sounded disinterested.

    "Shorty, it''s PJ," feeling increasingly cold inside the airport terminal, I said to my brother on the phone.

    "PJ?" Gabe asked incredulously, "I thought you were on a plane," still surprised, Gabe said, "can you make calls from the plane? cool," the kid affirmed, not giving me time to respond.

    "No, Gabe¡ª" I was saying, but the kid interrupted me again, "wait, are you in the sky right now? Can you touch the clouds?" suddenly interested, I could even imagine the kid completely focusing on the phone pressed against his face.

    "Yeah sure," I replied amused, "they''re extremely cold," I continued.

    "Incredible," Gabe slowly affirmed, "hey!" he exclaimed a moment later, making me have to move the phone away from my ear.

    "PJ?" whom I recognized as Teddy spoke a moment later.

    "No, this is Ryan McCarthy," I jokingly exaggerated my voice in response.

    "Not funny," Teddy said seriously, "you have to bring gifts from Boston," she continued, while I could hear movement and Gabe talking annoyed in the background.

    "Sure, what do you prefer, a magnet or a keychain?" jokingly, I asked, tucking my free hand into one of the jacket pockets.

    "I prefer something nice, clothes and shoes," my sister responded curtly.

    "Don''t they sell clothes and shoes at home?" I asked intrigued.

    "You''re in Boston, a capital city, we live in Medford," Teddy responded with irony as if it were completely obvious, there were more than enough high-quality clothing stores in the Medford mall, what could possibly be wrong with those stores?

    "Okay, Teddy Bear," deciding not to dwell on the topic more than necessary, I agreed, "some clothes and shoes, I don''t promise much, mom filled my suitcase and I don''t know if I can add more stuff," I continued.

    "Thanks PJ," excitedly Teddy said, "I want gifts too," Teddy apparently handed the phone back to Gabe who immediately exclaimed.

    "Okay, then more clothes and shoes," I immediately affirmed, hearing a sigh from Gabe on the other end of the line.

    "No, not clothes or shoes, I want something cool," apparently not really knowing for himself what he wanted, Gabe said.

    "Something cool," I repeated slowly as if taking note, "got it, don''t you also want something amazing?" I asked sarcastically, suddenly hearing the payphone making warning sounds indicating the end of the call, "Gabe, I have to go, let mom and dad know I''ve arrived in Boston, I''ll call again when I have more change," I quickly said, managing to hear a confirmation from the kid before the call ended.

    With the call ended, along with other people I recognized from the plane, I waited a few minutes for my suitcase to appear on the conveyor belt before walking to the terminal exit.

    Walking among a bunch of people who also arrived from other flights, dragging my suitcase with me, I reached where families and friends of people eagerly awaited their loved ones, the place was too close to one of the airport''s exit doors causing the cold to increase exponentially.

    Among a small group of people holding signs, an older man, whom I recognized from photographs, had a sign with my name written on it.

    "Doctor Thomas," approaching the man trying to maintain a friendly smile despite the extreme cold I felt at the moment, I said.

    "You really are a teenager," the doctor said, laughing cheerfully with excitement as he quickly moved his sign aside offering a handshake, "I still had doubts if it was all an extravagant joke from Gregory," shaking my hand with surprising vigor for a man of his age, the doctor continued.

    "Yeah, that could be the idea of a joke from Doctor House," understanding the older doctor, I said completely agreeing with him, "but I assure you the last time I checked I''m completely real," I continued, "by the way, congratulations are in order, doctor," I added.

    "Oh, thank you very much," patting my shoulder, the man said.

    Apparently, I was doing a poor job of pretending the cold I was feeling.

    "You''re freezing, there are some shops here, you''d better buy gloves and thermal clothes, we''re at twenty degrees," putting his hand on my shoulder, the doctor guided me towards the shops inside the airport.

    "How was your flight?" the older man asked, starting a trivial conversation as we visited the shops.

    After buying some extra warm clothes along with a pair of gloves, I also entered a convenient store where they had suits on display, choosing without much thought a suitable black suit for my new size, I was ready to leave the airport.

    "Do you have everything you need?" sitting on one of the benches at the airport, Doctor Thomas asked, smiling cheerfully.

    "I do, doctor, thank you," I replied, showing the couple of shopping bags I was carring.

    "Had I known you needed a suit, I would have taken you to my tailor, although it possibly wouldn''t have been ready for tomorrow''s party," the doctor Thomas said, looking strangely at the store where I had bought my suit moments ago.

    "Is there any problem with the suit I chose?" I asked, not having much idea about formality or fashion, I might have chosen something inappropriate.

    "Oh no, not at all, it''s just that Michael has a great eye for everything, he would have tailored a suit for you," standing up from the bench, the doctor said with a calm smile, "if you have everything you need, it''s better that we get going, Dottie was incredibly excited to meet you, my teenage friend," patting my shoulder, the older man said as he walked to one of the airport exits.

    "This way," walking to a black car that remained running, the doctor said, guiding me, "this is Frank, Frank PJ Duncan, the amazing teenager I told you about," Doctor Thomas introduced a man who came out from the passenger side surprisingly dressed formally with white gloves and a black cap, who walked towards us.

    "Frank Miller, it''s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Duncan, allow me," giving a small and almost imperceptible bow, Frank introduced himself, taking the suitcase from my hand and walking to the back of the car to put it in the trunk.

    "Frank has been my driver for just over fifteen years," Doctor Thomas explained, smiling amused, possibly seeing my surprised look.

    "This Christmas will be sixteen years, doctor," returning to the side of the car, Frank said, lowering his head slightly before opening the back door.

    "That''s right, my old friend, that''s right," nodding, Doctor Thomas said laughing before gesturing for me to go ahead.

    After getting in and settling on the other side of the back seat, Doctor Thomas entered behind me, getting comfortable before Frank closed the door for him.

    "Home, doctor?" upon entering the car and fastening his seatbelt, Frank asked.

    "Home, my friend," the doctor said calmly.

    The journey, apart from the instrumental classical music playing on the car speakers, was surprisingly silent. Frank had a great ability to drive smoothly, always keeping his back straight with both hands on the wheel making strangely formal movements for everything he did.

    Several minutes later, we arrived at a neighborhood that, from the looks of the houses and parked cars outside, was upscale.

    "We''re about to arrive, I know you''re possibly tired of sitting all day, but I''m sorry, you''ll have to stay like this for a few more minutes, my young friend, we''re just going to pick up Dottie and then we''ll go out to dinner," the doctor apologized kindly as we passed several luxurious houses.

    "Don''t worry about it, doctor," I quickly replied, usually at this time, I would still be in the skills lab or helping House during his clinic hours, when there wasn''t a case.

    "I won''t be long, and Alfred will take care of your luggage," with a friendly smile, Doctor Thomas said before his door was opened by another older man who seemed like a butler, allowing the doctor to exit the car.

    "Alfred," when the car door was closed again, I said unconsciously amused. Among the many comics that Gabe had read and told me about, there was this butler who worked for one of the superheroes.

    "Ed, Doctor Thomas''s youngest son, also found the coincidence in the name Alfred with the comic character funny, in fact, I think he found it much more amusing to bother the man with that fact," amused, Frank in the driver''s seat said, apparently hearing my amusement.

    "Does Doctor Thomas have children?" I asked interested.

    "Oh yes, three much older than you," calmly the driver said.

    "So, I assume ''Dottie'' is Mrs. Thomas?" absorbing the previous information, I asked again, I knew Dorothy Thomas, the mother of the bone marrow transplants.

    "You assume correctly," Frank replied, nodding slightly.

    Before I could continue with any other questions or conversation, the door opposite to me was opened again followed by an older woman wrapped up and carrying a big smile, "look at you, you really are as young as your letters say," getting into the car, the woman said as she made her way into a space inside the car followed by her husband.

    When the car door was closed again, the car began to move out of the driveway.

    "Mrs. Thomas, pleased to meet you," a little uncomfortable with the older woman''s proximity inside the car, I greeted.

    "Oh PJ dear, drop the ''Mrs.,'' I know I''m an old lady, please call me Dottie," the woman said kindly, smiling, "I know all about you, at least what little your letters and Gregory''s say," she continued, making a complicated expression when she spoke about Doctor House.

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    "Well, besides your age, where you live and your extensive knowledge of medicine, we really don''t know much about you," amused, Doctor Thomas said on the other side of his wife.

    "But that''s what dinner is for, we have to fix that. I hope you like Italian food, darling," decisively said Dottie, patting my hand kindly.

    "Oh, of course I do," I said, but besides pizza and homemade pasta, I had never tried Italian food.

    "Perfect, then tell me about yourself, PJ. Besides being one of the brightest young minds in medicine I''ve had the pleasure of meeting, what other interests do you have?" completely focusing her attention on me, the woman asked.

    "You see, Frank, that''s why I didn''t ask any questions on the way home," the doctor Thomas said, laughing joyfully and lightly tapping Frank''s seat, who again, in a formal manner, sighed slightly.

    During the ride to the restaurant, Mrs. Thomas, Dottie, guided a conversation about my life, leaving out medicine, focusing mainly on school and my other extracurricular activities.

    In my past life, and even in this one, I hadn''t met any of my grandparents, but I would like to think that if I had met them, and when I do, they''ll be like this.

    "That sounds so dangerous, martial arts," scoffing at the idea, Dottie said, shaking her head.

    "Don''t listen to her, PJ. A man has to know how to defend himself. In my time in the army, I was a boxing champion," putting his hands up in a guard position, Doctor Thomas said, smiling cunningly.

    "Look what you did, PJ," lightly hitting her husband''s shoulder, Dottie said, amused, "you''ve just awakened this old man''s delusions."

    "I was a boxing champion," offended, Doctor Thomas, looking at his wife, said.

    "Yes, yes, and I was Miss Texas," sarcastically, Dottie said, shaking her head with a smile on her face.

    "I can''t imagine a world where that''s a lie," taking his wife''s hand, Doctor Thomas said affectionately, abruptly cutting off Dottie''s mocking expression.

    "Oh, Don, you''re embarrassing me in front of Frank and PJ," waving her free hand in front of her face, Dottie said, smiling widely.

    Seeing the streets of Boston through my window, feeling somewhat uncomfortable trying to give space and privacy to the elderly couple sharing the back seat with me, I noticed how the car progressively slowed down until it parked next to a curb.

    "We''ve arrived," taking them out of the bubble in which the elderly couple was, Frank said calmly.

    "Ah, Rosso''s, they have the best Risotto this side of the planet, PJ, you''ll see," Doctor Thomas said before stepping out through the door that Frank had previously opened.

    The restaurant looked much more luxurious than anything I had ever stepped into before. At the entrance of the place, a wall filled with wine bottles greeted you along with an extremely well-dressed woman smiling kindly.

    Seeing the other people inside the restaurant and how Doctor Thomas and Dottie were dressed, I felt somewhat out of place with my thick jacket and plain shirt underneath it.

    "For the Thomas family, table for three," approaching the woman, Doctor Thomas said kindly.

    "This way, doctor, ma''am," nodding slightly and taking three of what seemed to be menus from their small foyer, the woman said, guiding us into the restaurant.

    If only the foyer seemed luxurious, the restaurant itself seemed like what could be the White House or something of similar importance. The floor was so shiny that I worried about dirtying it with my shoes, even though I knew they weren''t nearly dirty enough to leave prints.

    With incredible paintings on the ceiling accompanied by chandeliers and decorations along the walls, the woman led us to a table where other staff members were waiting. "Allow me," one of them approached me, raising his hand, it took me a few seconds and seeing Doctor Thomas hand over his jacket to understand what the man was asking for.

    After handing over my thick jacket and being helped to sit down, I continued to look around the place, surprised.

    "Reading your work, I''m sure you''ll get used to all of this at some point," kindly, Dottie said, smiling slightly.

    "It''s just that everything looks so..." a bit embarrassed to show my surprise, I was saying, discreetly gesturing towards the place.

    "Luxurious," Dottie finished.

    "Yes, luxurious," I said, still looking around even the plates and cloth napkins on the table exuded a kind of luxury difficult to describe.

    "Don, my friend," an Italian man dressed as a chef came to the table, opening his hands and speaking loudly with a hint of accent in his voice.

    "Alessandro," standing up, Doctor Thomas said, matching the excitement of the other man as they gave each other a fraternal hug, and the Italian man kissed both sides of Doctor Thomas''s face.

    "The beautiful Dottie too," approaching Mrs. Thomas, Alessandro said, taking the woman''s hand before bending down slightly to kiss the back of it, "it''s always a pleasure."

    "Always the flatterer," playfully hitting the man''s hand, Dottie said, laughing.

    "And who might this handsome young man here be?" focusing his attention on me, the man asked.

    "This is PJ Duncan, a colleague," pointing at me with his open palm, Doctor Thomas said, smiling broadly.

    "A doctor so young?" surprised, Alessandro exclaimed, calling, if possible, even more attention to our table.

    "I don''t have any titles yet," standing up, I said, shaking the Italian man''s hand.

    "Well, I know nothing of that, I just have a modest restaurant in Boston," kindly, the man said, gesturing around, "but what I do know is that a friend of Don and Dottie is a friend of mine," shaking my hand and pulling me into a hug, the man said, imitating his actions with Doctor Thomas.

    Pulling away after the somewhat uncomfortable moment for me, Alessandro with two pats on my shoulder walked to where a waiter had arrived, "I''ll leave you, you know if you need anything just call," formally folding his hands, the man said.

    "Thank you, Alessandro," nodding slightly, Doctor Thomas with a smile responded, causing the restaurant owner to bid farewell, greeting other people on his way to what I could see for a second was the kitchen of the place.

    "Alessandro has always been a great friend of the family," Dottie explained as Doctor Thomas spoke with the waiter who stayed behind.

    "Would you be interested in any wine from our cellar?" formally, the waiter asked Doctor Thomas, who for a moment looked at me before chuckling, "I forgot for a moment that you''re not yet old enough to drink," he said.

    "Water is perfect for me," I quickly said.

    "And for us, your finest glass of Barolo," nodding to the waiter, Doctor Thomas said.

    "Perfect, are you ready to order or do you need me to come back in a minute?" putting his hands behind his back, the waiter asked.

    Doctor Thomas and Dottie took their menus, something I quickly imitated a moment later, almost choking when I saw the prices next to things I had never heard of. I had never paid more than twenty dollars for a meal, on the menu were things that went over a hundred dollars.

    "We''re treating you, PJ, order whatever you want," kindly, Dottie said, noticing my reaction.

    For some reason, embarrassed, I hid

    my gaze within the menu. In my wallet, I had a credit card with a limit of thousands of dollars and I had an investment account with hundreds of thousands of dollars, which made it easy to buy some comic books without looking at the price or pay for gas without worries every week, but seeing such exorbitant prices on food was something I was still not accustomed to.

    "I''ll have the Risotto," I said, leaving the menu on the table without intending to look at the price for such a dish, remembering how Doctor Thomas had recommended it when we arrived.

    "Excellent choice," jotting it down in a small notepad, the waiter said professionally.

    After Doctor Thomas and Dottie gave their orders, the waiter bid farewell to the table, following the same path that his boss had previously taken towards the kitchen.

    "So, where were we?" Dottie asked kindly, folding her hands on the table.

    What followed was the continuation of the ''interrogation'' by the older woman.

    "So, your mom is a nurse at the hospital where Gregory has his department, that''s how they met," the woman said.

    "I may have overheard about a case from Doctor House and accidentally had a discussion with him on the subject, since then he allowed me to come closer to his department and his team," I explained.

    "Gregory says you have a special talent for diagnosing," smiled Doctor Thomas, adding, "and I can see it. Since you arrived in Boston, you''ve looked at least for a couple of seconds at every person you crossed paths with, studying them. It''s like seeing Gregory in his youth again."

    The fact that the doctor noticed my new acquired habit made me feel exposed for some reason.

    "I''ve learned a lot from him," I said, ignoring the strange feeling, also storing the information that Doctor Thomas had just given away to eventually use it against House if necessary. Having a ''special talent for diagnosing,'' that was almost a compliment coming from the sarcastic man.

    "Yes, Gregory is possibly the best option anyone could have for learning medical diagnosis," Doctor Thomas nodded. "He''s a unique genius in the field."

    "As long as you don''t learn his other... peculiarities," Dottie added seriously, pausing for a moment to find the perfect word.

    "He''s a special man, brilliant in his field, which is what I focus on learning from him," I said, understanding the implications of the woman''s words, silently assuring her.

    "Yes, he''s a great mentor," Doctor Thomas repeated. "Speaking of mentors, have you thought about what you''ll do after you graduate?" the man asked, receiving an immediate hit from his wife.

    "Dinner hasn''t even arrived yet, and you''re already recruiting PJ for your talent hunt," Dottie exclaimed, exasperated.

    "Oh, it''s nothing bad, dear. It''s just something Don does with people who catch his attention," apparently failing to hide the doubt on my face, Dottie immediately explained, "he seeks out brilliant minds," she continued, exaggerating her words.

    "You make it sound so bad. I take under my wing those whom I recognize as valuable for the future. One of them was Gregory many years ago. I''ve always said, surround yourself with brilliant minds, and it''s possible that some of it will rub off," Doctor Thomas explained calmly. "So, I was wondering what you were thinking of doing. Obviously, your goal is to study medicine, and I am part of the admissions committee at Harvard, and of course, I can make a recommendation for your admission," the doctor suggested, tilting his head slightly suggestively.

    "Although with the background that you''re building, I''m sure that every medical school in the country will be fighting over you to choose them. Just with your current achievements I think it''s well enough, and you won''t need anything that this old man is offering you," Dottie said, hitting her husband''s shoulder again affectionately.

    "It''s okay, Harvard is one of my top choices, and when the time comes, I would be completely grateful for any letter of recommendation," I said immediately. I could remember how in my past life, I had to work so hard to get a scholarship and admission to Harvard. Now, I hadn''t even finished the first year of high school, and my entry was basically a sure thing, and if all went well with the investments, no one in my family would ever need a scholarship again.

    "You have to come to Harvard," Doctor Thomas said, immediately giving dozens of reasons why it was my best option until Dottie scolded him again, forcing him to stop.

    Dinner arrived moments later, and Doctor Thomas was right to say that the Risotto was delicious. It was some kind of rice with a delicious sauce of some kind and mushrooms.

    "Have you thought about your specialty?" during dinner, Doctor Thomas asked. "Gregory, if I remember correctly, finished his residency in pathology, but you don''t have the makings of a lab doctor," Doctor Thomas continued, shaking his head.

    "I''m sorry?" offended, Dottie, who herself was a hematologist, asked.

    "It''s something I can see. The kid has the qualifications to be an excellent doctor and work with patients. He even has surgeon''s hands," shamelessly, the doctor said, pointing at my hands as I held my utensils, making me aware of the way I hold them.

    "''Lab doctors'' have a job as important as any other," still offended, Dottie said, shaking her head.

    "I never said otherwise, my love. It''s just that PJ doesn''t seem to me like the type to sit in a lab studying a microscope all day long," innocently, Doctor Thomas said. The reality was that I had spent almost a hundred hours sitting in skills labs, although certainly not looking through a microscope.

    "All right, PJ can choose whatever he wants to do, don''t decide for him," hitting her husband''s shoulder affectionately again, Dottie said.

    "Of course, he can. I was just giving the picture that-" the doctor was saying when a shout at the table next to us interrupted him, "oh my God, he''s choking," a woman sitting across from a rather robust man exclaimed.

    The man had his hands on his neck while moving his mouth rapidly without any words coming out.

    Before I realized it, I was standing up, quickly moving behind the man. "I need you to stand up; I''m going to help you," I said quickly, not waiting for a reaction from the man; I forcefully guided him to stand up before positioning myself to apply the Heimlich maneuver correctly, which was not easy at all due to the size of the man.

    The man was, to put it kindly, robust, easily more than twice my body weight, which also didn''t make it easy to keep the desperate man still enough to help him quickly.

    Fortunately, I had a way to control him at least a little. If I had never started training with Case, the action would be monumentally more difficult, possibly impossible, but working with Tim, who was also several times heavier than me, had somewhat accustomed me to this kind of thing.

    After pressing a few times forcefully under the man''s diaphragm, a poorly chewed piece of food was expelled, causing the man to immediately start breathing deeply and erratically. "Thank you," as I separated from the man, he emphatically said between gasps, taking my hand and shaking it quickly.

    "It''s nothing," lightly patting the man''s shoulder, I said, calming my somewhat agitated nerves, noticing thanks to this, how the people in the restaurant were applauding.

    Uncomfortable again for receiving the attention of everyone present in the restaurant, I silently thanked them by raising my hand, managing to at least ease the attention on me a little before walking back to my table with the Thomases.

    "Definitely not pathology," still sitting in his place with a great haughty smile, Doctor Thomas said to Dottie, who despite having her attention focused on me with a big smile and surprise, playfully hit her husband''s shoulder once again.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    So I read an interesting recommendation about how to take on the role of the MC coming from the future in the face of important events happening in the United States (even in the world, I don''t know), but I really don''t have a deep knowledge of these kinds of things. For example, I obviously know about the 9/11 attacks, the bombing at the Boston Marathon, and the 2007-2008 housing crisis.

    The truth is, I don''t plan for the MC to have an active role in stopping these events altogether (there''s something, but it''s for the future), but it made me realize that I don''t have much idea about things that happen in contemporary United States history.

    If you have any ideas for events that might be necessary/interesting for the development of the story, I would greatly appreciate it if you left them in the comments.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 53

    Again, I know I promised more chapters per week, but I have final exams at university and project and assignment submissions, which consume a lot of my time.

    There may be possibly a couple more weeks with the old update schedule (a new chapter every Sunday), and then I will continue with several chapters per week (3).

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "Then obviously it''s not just diagnosis," Dr. Thomas said, smiling broadly after joking with his wife, "you work surprisingly well under pressure. I''ve seen final year students freeze when put in situations like this in hospitals all the time," he continued while laughing.

    "That was quite fast, it seemed like you were about to throw the chair flying," Dottie added, amused.

    "I just happened to know the maneuver," I said again, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the elderly couple''s congratulations.

    "That''s not just knowledge, you seem to have experience that I''ve only seen in very few people," Dr. Thomas said, still amused.

    "I''ve practiced quite a few hours in the hospital''s skills lab in Texas," I explained.

    "You have an amazing grandson," the man who had been choking on food a few moments ago, somehow stealthily approaching our table, said, surprising me as he came up behind me.

    "We know," apparently without intending to correct the man, Dottie said, hugging Dr. Thomas''s arm.

    "I wanted to thank you properly, son, now that I can breathe like a normal person," the man said, smiling broadly and somewhat embarrassed, stretching out his hand.

    Standing up, I shook hands to accept the man''s gratitude properly.

    "You don''t have to thank me, I''m sure if it wasn''t me, someone else would know what to do," I explained calmly.

    "I wouldn''t bet on that. If it weren''t for you, I''d either be on my way to the hospital or God forbid, dead right now, so let me thank you properly," the man said, lightly patting my shoulder.

    Releasing my shoulder, the man called over the restaurant owner who had just come out of the kitchen with concern on his face, apparently one of his employees had informed him of the situation.

    "Sam, my God, are you okay?" Alessandro, the restaurant owner, nervously asked, approaching the more robust man.

    "Yes, my friend, this young man here saved my life," unfortunately for me, the man named Sam said loudly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    "Oh PJ, I knew you were someone special the moment I saw you," Alessandro said, smiling broadly as he raised his arms with great excitement.

    "Alessandro, whatever this young man here wants along with his grandparents, put it on my tab," holding my shoulder, Sam, the robust man, said, shaking me slightly.

    "Consider it done," Alessandro replied cheerfully immediately, "now you''re one of my friends, PJ, whenever you want, there will always be a table available for you," the restaurant owner added, taking my other shoulder.

    "If you need anything, anything at all in the future, don''t hesitate to call," pulling out what looked like a business card from his jacket, Sam said as he handed it to me, "you saved my life so there''s no small favor," he continued, squeezing my shoulder.

    The two boisterous men after bidding farewell walked away chatting with each other, laughing almost to the point of tears, oblivious to all the attention they were receiving.

    "It looks like PJ''s treating this dinner," Dr. Thomas, who along with Dottie had simply sat back enjoying the ''show'', said ironically.

    "It''s actually Sam," pointing with my head to the robust man who was still happily talking to the restaurant owner, I said.

    "Potato, potahto," Dr. Thomas said, amused.

    At the end of the dinner, after a delicious Italian dessert made with hardened caramel of some sort, we left the restaurant, not without being bid farewell again by Alessandro and Sam, I was sure I had received enough cheek kisses from a man for quite a while.

    The journey back was quite peaceful as we listened to music in the Thomases'' car.

    In the beautiful house of the elderly couple, they introduced me to Alfred, who was a very formal man, always keeping his back straight.

    Using a phone in the house, I called home again, this time finally being able to speak to mom, who apparently found out much later than she should have about my arrival in Boston, hence my siblings, who were already asleep at that time, would be grounded for at least a few days.

    "Your room is at the end of the hallway, you have your own bathroom, and feel free to come down for a late-night snack anytime, I always do," after my call home, Dr. Thomas said, pointing to a door on the second floor of the house.

    "Have a good night, PJ dear," Dottie said with her ever-present kind smile before walking to what I was sure was the elderly couple''s bedroom.

    "Tomorrow I''d like you to accompany me to campus, I have to pick up some documents," Dr. Thomas said.

    "Sure," I replied without issue, hiding a tiny suspicion about the real reason the doctor was taking me to the Harvard Medical School campus; obviously, it wasn''t just a simple errand for documents.

    "Well, PJ, I hope you have a good night," clapping his hands together in a small applause, Dr. Thomas said before following his wife down the hallway opposite the room I would be using these days.

    The decoration in the Thomases'' house was stunning, paintings and sculptures filled the long hallway of the second floor, downstairs even had a grand piano and the floor, like in the Italian restaurant, seemed shiny almost like a mirror.

    In the guest room where I would be staying, my previously packed belongings in my suitcase were now neatly arranged inside the room''s closet, obviously the work of the butler, and that was all fine, but seeing my underwear properly folded and organized was strange.

    After a short bodyweight exercise routine, I took a bath in the surprisingly spacious guest room bathroom before retiring to the incredibly comfortable bed for sleep.

    The next day, with my biological clock fully accustomed to Texas time, I woke up at what would normally be my usual hour, but in Boston, it was an hour later.

    Despite being miles away from home, my routine had to remain the same. Dressed in comfortable and warm clothes, I left the guest room ready to go for my daily run.

    "Good morning, Mr. Duncan. I hope you had a pleasant night''s sleep. Would you be interested in a cup of coffee or possibly a glass of orange juice?" Alfred, dressed in what seemed to be his uniform and a completely calm apron, asked from the doorway leading to what I could tell was the kitchen.

    "Good morning, Alfred," quickly ignoring the surprise of the man''s presence at such an early hour I said, "a glass of water when I return from my run would be perfect, thank you very much," I continued. I still didn''t drink coffee, and although orange juice sounded very appealing, I preferred to save it for breakfast rather than before running.

    "I understand. Have a fruitful run, and watch out for the ice on the sidewalk, it''s slippery at this time of the year," Alfred said with a barely perceptible smile as he re-entered the kitchen.

    Unlike at home, the start of the run was complete agony. The almost freezing air stung with every breath until I could get accustomed a few minutes into the run. As Alfred had mentioned, the sidewalk on the street was extremely slippery; more than once, I nearly fell while trying to stop on the icy pavement.

    Apart from the weather and the difficulty of running on frozen streets, running somewhere other than my neighborhood was a welcome change. Watching the sunrise, seeing the houses, and observing other people going about their lives made me feel somehow alive.

    After finishing the run and returning to the Thomases'' house, no one except Alfred was awake. Taking a glass of water that Alfred oddly had prepared on a tray along with a small towel, which I avoided touching to avoid dirtying unnecessary things.

    "I hope your run was fruitful," Alfred said, keeping his body completely straight with one hand hidden behind his back as he held the tray.

    "Yes, thank you for the water," returning the glass to the tray carefully to not interfere with the balance the man had while holding it.

    "You''re welcome," Alfred replied, inclining his head slightly. "Breakfast is about to begin; I recommend you hurry with your bath," he continued, checking a watch he had inside his suit before entering the kitchen again.

    Every morning after waking up, I made my bed before my daily run. Upon entering the guest room, what I had done with the bed was completely replaced by Alfred''s obvious meticulous work. The bed looked like something out of a magazine, perfectly made; it even seemed like the room had been cleaned during my absence.

    Preparing the clean clothes I would wear after my bath, following the butler''s advice, I quickly took a relaxing hot bath before heading downstairs again.

    In the dining room, the Thomases were already seated with breakfast plates seemingly freshly served in front of them.

    "Ah, PJ, join us. I hope you like pancakes; Alfred makes the best ones on the East Coast," Dr. Thomas said kindly, clasping his hands together and indicating an empty seat at the table.

    "Even away from home, you continue to exercise in the mornings," Dottie said with her ever-present kind smile. "It''s a great quality to have discipline."

    "I''ve always said, exercising is the best way to start a morning," Dr. Thomas exaggeratedly said, ignoring a strange look his wife gave him.

    "More syrup for your pancakes, dear?" Dottie asked with an ironic smile, raising a small pitcher.

    "Oh, yes, please," Dr. Thomas replied cheerfully, reaching out his hand to take the small pitcher, much to Dottie''s amusement.

    After finishing breakfast, Dottie, who had to ''freshen up,'' left with Frank, while Dr. Thomas and I, in another car of the couple''s, set off for the Harvard Medical School campus.

    "Oh, you''ll love it, PJ. It''s too cold for students to fill the gardens right now so sadly we will not be able to appreciate the view of the gardens full of people doing their things, we have one of the largest medical libraries in the country, the best professors in the country, and top-notch facilities," Dr. Thomas said enthusiastically as he drove, with no intention of hiding his obvious plan to interest me in the school.

    The journey to the campus was surprisingly short, and in a few minutes, I saw the building that was filled with so many memories. It was exactly as I could remember it, at least the school was. There were shops and businesses around the campus that I didn''t recognize.

    During my time on campus in my past life, I wasn''t someone who ventured much beyond the four walls of the dorm, library, or classroom. There were few occasions when, managing to gather a few dollars, I ventured off-campus to one of the nearby cafes to escape the crowds.

    All these changes I encountered could or could not make sense considering the year I was in. In my past life, I hadn''t entered medical school until many years later, possibly these few places I remembered outside the campus had not yet been built.

    "Impressive, isn''t it?" Dr. Thomas asked, bringing me out of my thoughts with a smile that bordered on arrogance.

    "Yeah," I simply replied.

    After parking Dr. Thomas''s car in its designated spot, we entered the administration building, where many of the doctors'' private offices were located. "I just need to take care of some important documents I need to review, and we can take a quick tour if we still have time," the doctor said, smiling oddly.

    Outside one of the offices, Dr. Thomas greeted a woman who was carefully reviewing some documents. "Ah, Dr. Thomas, is it already so late?" the woman asked nervously, quickly checking her wristwatch.

    "Oh, no, don''t worry. I came a bit early to finish reviewing the board papers," the doctor said with a slight smile, quickly calming the nervous secretary.

    "Wait..." checking a small notebook on her desk with a furrowed brow, the woman said slowly, "those papers have been ready for several days, doctor. I don''t have anything else on your schedule," she continued.

    "Oh, that''s right," with what I immediately discerned as false surprise, the doctor exclaimed, "I completely forgot." Turning back to me still in his act, the elderly man continued, "It seems we have time for a full tour of the campus, what luck," checking his own wristwatch, Dr. Thomas said with a slight smile.

    "Yeah, luck" I said amused. There was no need to ''trick'' me into coming for a tour; I would have gladly come, but it was funny to see the doctor be proud of himself.

    "Let''s go," cheerfully clapping his hands together in a resounding applause and with much excitement, Dr. Thomas said before walking towards the campus, "oh, Mallory, please take the rest of the day off; I hope to see you tonight," the doctor stopped, turning to his now smiling secretary, "sure thing, doctor. Thank you," the woman replied cheerfully.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "Let''s go, PJ, we have a lot to see," urging me forward, Dr. Thomas said, walking surprisingly quickly for someone his age.

    With Dr. Thomas obviously interested in showing me everything the school had to offer, we walked through the premises.

    "And here we have another lecture hall," after checking his wristwatch several times, Dr. Thomas said before silently pushing open another door.

    The place was surprisingly crowded, which was usual depending on your schedule organization, as classes on Saturdays were common. It was also possible that there were guest speakers giving a lecture.

    "It seems there''s a lecture," whispering, Dr. Thomas, obviously feigning surprise once again, said as he gently nudged me to enter.

    Urging me to take a seat in one of the free chairs at the back of the auditorium, Dr. Thomas sat beside me, gesturing silently to a surprised student next to us to quiet down.

    "So, having this list of symptoms," the man at the front, an older man, possibly a few years younger than Dr. Thomas, said with great theatricality, "is anyone willing to take a guess and offer a diagnosis for everyone present?" maintaining his cheerful demeanor, he asked, moving around in front of the room.

    Turning to look at Dr. Thomas, I found the man smiling innocently at me. Well played, doctor.

    "Pancreatic cancer. To confirm it, I would conduct diagnostic tests, blood analysis, liver function, tomography, ultrasound, and biopsy," interrupting the silence that the doctor''s question had created, one of the students quickly said, apparently winning over a few others who tried to raise their hands.

    Suppressing a small amused snort, I lowered my head; only with the symptoms, not the medical history? Not even House would do that... Well, actually.

    "Quick response, and in line with several textbooks, indeed," the doctor at the front of the class smiled. "When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras." After a few seconds of silence, the doctor continued, "does anyone know what this means?" he asked again.

    "The importance of considering the most common and probable explanations for a patient''s symptoms first, rather than rare or unlikely causes," another student immediately responded, apparently learning from the first one''s example.

    "Yes," pointing to the student who answered, the presenting doctor nodded immediately, "while it may be true that symptoms like abdominal pain, unexplained weight loss, jaundice, fatigue, and changes in bowel habits are early symptoms of pancreatic cancer, I cheated a bit in my first question, does anyone know how?" he asked again.

    After the doctor''s question, no other student responded as they discussed quietly among themselves.

    As the students whispered, Dr. Thomas beside me lightly nudged my elbow, silently urging me with his head to answer.

    Quickly shaking my head, I responded silently to the man.

    "I know Dr. Eaton, don''t worry," Dr. Thomas murmured to me, apparently deducing that my lack of interest in responding was due to fear of interrupting the class. The truth was, I gained nothing but attention by responding; I wasn''t enrolled in this class.

    "It seems everything House says about you is a lie," with a sigh, turning his head in what I could discern as another act of feigned disappointment, Dr. Thomas said. Why would he want to draw attention to me now? It would serve no purpose.

    "Anyone?" maintaining his smile, Dr. ''Eaton'' at the front of the auditorium asked.

    Sighing again, Dr. Thomas symbolically nudged me.

    No one would respond, why should I? "There''s not enough medical history," I responded loudly, immediately hearing the seats in front of me creak as the students turned their bodies.

    Dr. Thomas triumphantly raised his hand to cover half of his smiling face.

    "We have all the symptoms, what else do we need?" with clear disdain in his voice, the first student who had responded to a question asked, obviously trying to mock me.

    "Yes, Mr..." Dr. Eaton smiled slightly as he searched and put on a pair of glasses he had hanging from his coat.

    "Duncan," I replied, already regretting my response.

    "So, Mr. Duncan, what else might we need?" widening his smile as he glanced at Dr. Thomas beside me, Dr. Eaton asked.

    "I don''t know, many things, medications the patient frequently take, the job, lifestyle, duration and intensity of symptoms, when they appeared, the age, ethnicity, nationality, so many things that we can''t appreciate just with symptoms written on a board," I responded seriously, ignoring the amused glances of the other students present.

    "Why would we need to know about your job and lifestyle?" much more arrogantly, the first student who had responded to a question asked once again.

    "Another good question, Mr. Duncan," apparently not interested in interrupting whatever was happening, Dr. Eaton said cheerfully.

    "Depending on age, there are many things that could be explained by a person''s job or lifestyle with those symptoms. If it''s a man who works in an environment where he uses force constantly, possibly the prolonged use of NSAIDs for muscle pain could cause gastritis, the foods he consumes in his daily life could indicate if the patient could have peptic ulcers, any inflammatory bowel disease would present with the same symptoms, Crohn''s disease, ulcerative colitis, even a person can suddenly develop celiac disease, which would explain many of the symptoms," I explained directly, looking at the guy a few years older than me.

    "Absolutely correct," smiling widely, Dr. Eaton said, "although there''s one symptom you didn''t list." Pointing to jaundice on the board, Dr. Eaton continued, squinting his eyes apparently waiting for me to continue.

    Recalling my first interaction with House, I couldn''t help but smile faintly. "Does the patient eat a lot of carrots?" I asked, making Dr. Thomas beside me snort amusedly, an action that Dr. Eaton imitated but leting out a loud laugh, while the other people in the auditorium, puzzled by the presenter''s behavior to my response, began to discuss among themselves again.

    "Certainly, carotene, the active component of carrots, in excessive intake can tint a patient''s skin yellow," nodding slightly, the doctor explained, causing the students to jot down notes in their notebooks.

    "It could also be a accumulation of excess bilirubin, but again, only with a better medical history would we know for sure," I said.

    "Again, correct," Dr. Eaton pointed at me, saying, "Mr. Duncan, are you aware that this is an introductory class?" Dr. Eaton, losing his smile, asked seriously, squinting behind his glasses, seemingly trying to clarify my presence.

    "Now he does, Josef," interrupting whatever my response might have been, Dr. Thomas said.

    "Ah, then if he was your companion, Don," smiling again, Dr. Eaton said.

    "This is PJ from Texas, whom I mentioned earlier. We were taking a tour when we stumbled upon your class and interrupted," Dr. Thomas explained as if it hadn''t been their plan from the start.

    "Ah, PJ Duncan, of course," smiling broadly, Dr. Eaton said, snapping his fingers. "It''s not an interruption. Mr. Duncan here significantly accelerated much of what I had planned for today''s class," the man continued, amused.

    "So, we''ll let you continue with the rest of your class in peace, Josef," checking his watch, Dr. Thomas said. "Youngsters, you may have heard from some of your professors that coming to medical school is constantly a competition," Dr. Thomas, standing up, calmly announced to the class. "It is, but that doesn''t mean you compete with disdain for your future colleagues," he continued, obviously focusing on the impassive student. "Be curious, not judgmental."

    "Thank you for your words, Don," maintaining his friendly smile from the front, Dr. Eaton said, slightly nodding his head. "I hope to meet again soon, Mr. Duncan," bidding me farewell, the doctor continued.

    "What incredible luck to come across a medical diagnostic class by Josef Eaton. He''s been my colleague for many years. In fact, if I recall correctly, he taught a few tricks to your current mentor," outside the auditorium as we walked through the school halls, Dr. Thomas said. "If you come to this school, I''m sure you''ll refine whatever Gregory teaches you."

    "Yeah sure," I could only scoff, denying the man''s shamelessness.

    "We still have some time to grab a cup of coffee before heading home. I know a good place off-campus," leading the way, Dr. Thomas said as we walked.

    In one of the establishments I didn''t recognize, Dr. Thomas, after greeting the waitress familiarly, ordered two cups of coffee while telling me a bit of his story.

    For several minutes, the doctor narrated his residency days and how tiring but rewarding the whole process could be, as well as his time as a chief physician in a hospital in New York.

    When he checked his watch again after we both finished our coffee, rhythmically tapping the table with his fingers, he took his wallet and left some bills on the table. "It''s time to be even more celebrated," the doctor said, exaggeratedly proud, standing up.

    During the ride back, Dr. Thomas continued to tell me stories about his youth and the time he spent in the military.

    When we arrived at the Thomas'' house, the other car in which Dottie and Frank had left moments before Dr. Thomas and I, was parked on the side of the beautiful house.

    Upon entering the house, Dr. Thomas nervously stopped me for a moment before saying, "Oh my God, we''re later than I expected. I don''t mind being a few minutes late, but Dottie would murder us, especially me."

    "Don''t worry, doctor," I said, amused by the man''s sudden anxiety.

    I really didn''t need that much time to get ready.

    Once again, in the guest room, the work of the house butler left me completely surprised. The outfit I had bought the day before at the airport was ominously laid out, completely stretched and apparently ironed on the bed.

    It felt strange, as if my movements were planned by someone else.

    After overcoming the ordeal that strangely prepared clothing had left me, I quickly dressed. I had only worn such a ''formal'' outfit thrice: the first day of medical school, the day of my job interview and and the day mom was buried every time wearing the same suit.

    After fixing myself up, I went downstairs to find Dr. Thomas surprisingly already dressed faster than me.

    "That was quick," I said, still surprised that a man his age could change clothes so fast.

    "You''d be surprised what fear can achieve," laughing, Dr. Thomas said. "Oh, let me," approaching me, the man said as he undid the tie knot I had made. I had learned to tie them myself, and it had been a long time since I had done one, so it was obviously poorly done.

    "Oh, don''t worry about this. I remember when Junior wore a suit for the first time, we were about to cut the tie so he could breathe properly," apparently seeing the embarrassment on my face, Dr. Thomas explained, amused, finishing the knot and stepping back to see his work.

    "Looking sharp, doctor, Mr. Duncan," coming out of the kitchen with his expressionless face, Alfred said. "By the way, Mr. Duncan, your dirty laundry is all washed. I hope you don''t mind that I took the liberty," with a hint of a small smile, the butler said again, making me nervous for some reason.

    "Thank you," avoiding the strange feeling that practically a complete stranger was washing my underwear, I said.

    A few minutes later, Dottie, also dressed up, joined us. "I can''t believe my luck. Today, I''ll go celebrate the second best thing that ever happened to me in life, and I''ll go with the best thing that ever happened to me in life," smiling at his wife, Dr. Thomas said. "And PJ," he added a moment later with amusement.

    "You''re an incurable flatterer," turning her face, Dottie said, trying to hide a big smile.

    "I just say what I really think," defending himself, Dr. Thomas said.

    "Yeah sure, that''s why you took PJ to the campus so early, you didn''t have any other motives," squinting her eyes, Dottie said seriously.

    "Oh, look at the time, I don''t want to be late," checking his watch, Dr. Thomas said, gently taking Dottie''s arm and guiding her out of the house.

    Smiling conspiratorially at Dottie, I followed the couple out of the house to the car where Frank was waiting for us. "How about you join me in the front seat, PJ?" the driver said before closing the rear door behind the elderly couple.

    "Sure," seeing how close Dr. Thomas and Dottie got into the car, laughing, I decided not to bother them in the back, surely Frank thought the same.

    "It''s just uncomfortable the first few times; give it some time, and you''ll get used to wearing it like your second skin," Frank said, noticing my uncomfortable movements. During the car ride, I could feel how the suit jacket restricted my body a bit, especially my arms and chest. Sitting down seemed to tighten even more for some reason.

    "When sitting down, you also have to unbutton, and when you stand up again, button the upper buttons, never the bottom one," pointing at my jacket, the man continued, "you do it only using your right hand and without looking down." Taking his right hand off the steering wheel, Frank showed me how in his own jacket.

    "Is there anything else I should know?" I asked, genuinely interested. I didn''t know a single thing of what the man had exposed to me; I was sure there was a ridiculous amount of etiquettes of which I had no idea.

    "That''s basically it. It''ll teach you how to order a Martini the right way, but you''re still too young to drink," keeping his eyes on the road, the driver said with a strange but meaningful smile.

    After several more minutes of driving, we arrived at what seemed to be an event hall with several cars parked outside. Once again, after bidding farewell to Frank, I followed the elderly couple into the venue.

    "Ah, Frederick, I''m so glad you could make it," immediately upon entering the place, Dr. Thomas greeted someone cheerfully.

    The place was surprisingly crowded with people, all adults, some much older than others, but none close to my age, I mean, it was obvious, but for some reason, I felt strange seeing that the only people near my age were those carrying trays with small plates of food and drinks.

    "Allow me to introduce you to PJ Duncan, an incredibly bright young prodigy," Dr. Thomas said, taking me by the shoulder and approaching the man he was talking to. "PJ, this is Dr. Frederick Titan, chairman of the state medical board," as I shook hands with the some truly important doctor, Dr. Thomas said.

    The state medical board is responsible for regulating the practice of medicine and granting medical licenses.

    "If I recall correctly from the article, you''re from Texas Tech University; you seem extremely young," shaking my hand kindly, Dr. Titan said.

    "Oh, you don''t know the half of it. PJ isn''t even in college yet; in fact, he hasn''t finished high school," Dr. Thomas said, laughing a moment later at the surprise on the faces of the few people who were listening to the conversation.

    "I beg your pardon," surprised, Dr. Titan said, opening his eyes widely. "You''re still in high school?" he asked.

    "I''m in my freshman year," I responded, somewhat embarrassed for some reason.

    "Truly impressive," nodding with surprise, Dr. Titan said. "How do you have enough knowledge to be helpful in such an article?" with a touch of disbelief, Dr. Titan asked.

    "I have access to a lot of medical study material," I replied.

    "Gregory House, who was once a protege of mine a long time ago, took PJ under his wing, and Texas Tech allowed PJ access to its library," putting his hand on my shoulder, seemingly with pride, Dr. Thomas said.

    "Ah, Gregory House, I know him," nodding strangely, Dr. Titan gave me a scrutinizing look, apparently studying my way of acting.

    "Dr. House is a great doctor, and I learn a lot about medicine from him," feeling like I would have to say it many more times throughout the night, I said, emphasizing the word ''medicine,'' making it clear that I wasn''t the same as House.

    "Well, whoever teaches you, I''m sure you''ll go far," regaining his friendly smile, Dr. Titan said.

    "Get in line, Frederick," smiling friendly at the other doctor, Dr. Thomas said with a hint of warning.

    It seemed that Dr. Thomas had already decided that I would be another of his ''prot¨¦g¨¦s.''

    "Always the same, Don. I don''t understand how you manage to find so many brilliant minds," amused, Dr. Titan shook his eyes.

    "Well, unlike others, Frederick, I decided to focus my career on teaching, and from time to time, I find these brilliant minds," triumphantly smiling, Dr. Thomas said shaking my shoulder with pride.

    "Blah, it''s pointless to argue. I hope to meet again, PJ, whenever you need something, you can call," taking a card from his jacket, Dr. Titan said, handing it to me. I had obtained the business card with the direct number of an important figure without any problem.

    After that, following Dr. Thomas, who was happily dragging me around the place, I met many other equally important people. As time went by, the event hall began to fill up, as did the pocket where I had started to keep the business cards.

    One of the other people I met under Dr. Thomas''s guidance was his co-author, the surgeon Joseph Murray. "Who would''ve thought you''re really a teenager? I thought it was a bad joke from Don," laughing cheerfully, Dr. Murray said, energetically shaking my hand.

    "I assure you, the last time I checked, I''m completely real," smiling kindly at the man who had allowed my name to appear in an article he co-authored, I repeated the joke I had made when I met Dr. Thomas at the airport many hours ago.

    "I can see that. Have you eaten or had anything to drink?" holding my shoulder, Dr. Murray asked, "at that bar, you can order whatever you want; I''m sure they have some non-alcoholic drink," pointing to a bar at the side of the event hall, the doctor continued.

    Taking the man''s kind hint, I thanked him as I said goodbye to the two celebrated doctors because apparently, they had things to discuss privately.

    I was certainly very thirsty; I had been introduced to dozens of people and therefore had to repeat hundreds of words.

    "Can I have a glass of water? Please," approaching the bartender, I said, receiving a tall glass of refreshing water.

    "Dr. Grey, how nice to see you here today," someone said a few steps away from me, catching my attention. I had learned that name a long time ago through a surprising surgical procedure. A few steps away from me, an older man was talking to a strangely serious-looking woman who appeared to be my mother''s age.

    I had read a lot about Dr. Ellis Grey, winner two years ago of an award given to the best surgeons in the country, which I had never heard of, the Harper Avery.

    ---

    Author''s Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    I have no idea what''s inside a medical school, so I completely invented it, don''t sue me.

    I''ve added some important characters for the next volume of the novel in this chapter; some may be quite obvious, but others perhaps not so much. Let''s see who''s the first to decipher the origins of these characters.

    By the way, I highly doubt I need to make this clarification, but apart from images on Google, the closest I''ve been to the Harvard Medical School campus is approximately 3,686.46 km (2,290.66 mi) in a straight line, according to Google Maps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 54

    "Good evening," I said as the man moved away from Dr. Grey, coming close enough for me to introduce myself and, if possible, ask some questions about the procedure bearing her name.

    "Ah, finally, I want a Manhattan without cherries," Dr. Grey ordered, looking at me for just a few seconds, surely mistaking me for one of the waiters working tonight.

    "Oh no¡ª" I tried to explain the misunderstanding, but with disbelief on her face, the woman interrupted me.

    "No?" she asked, seeming offended. "Do you even know who I am?" she asked, furrowing her brow seriously.

    "But look who''s here, Ellis Grey," before I could respond to the oddly agitated woman, someone else interrupted.

    "Aaron," Dr. Grey smiled forcedly, greeting the newcomer.

    "PJ, good to see you again," the man happily said.

    "Doctor Glassman," I greeted the man once again. He was one of the many people Dr. Thomas had introduced me to, another of his ''prot¨¦g¨¦s,'' a neurosurgeon.

    "Do you two know each other?" still focusing her attention on Dr. Glassman, Dr. Grey asked, giving me another quick glance, studying my face.

    "Of course, PJ Duncan, as I''m sure you know, since obviously you allowed him to introduce himself," Dr. Glassman said ironically, smiling. "He''s a guest of Dr. Thomas, if you read the article, you''ll surely remember his name in the acknowledgments, from Texas Tech," raising one of his eyebrows, Dr. Glassman continued.

    "Of course," apparently recognizing my name, Dr. Grey changed her attitude immediately with a small smile. "PJ Duncan, pleasure to meet you, I''m Dr. Ellis Grey," extending her hand, she continued.

    I could see why House described her the way he did, obviously adding the touch that only House would, but the woman had a somewhat unpleasant attitude towards people she didn''t see as worthy of her standards.

    As I took the woman''s hand in a firm grip, for a fraction of a second, I glimpsed a tiny cut scar on her wrist. The cut was specifically well made, seemingly done to leave no visible mark; it was certainly almost imperceptible to the eyes of a normal person, but having practiced with hundreds of people, I noticed it immediately.

    "The pleasure is mine," pretending not to have seen the scar, I smiled kindly at the woman.

    "You look much younger than I imagined, are you twenty?" Dr. Grey smiled, asking.

    "No, actually, I''m sixteen," I replied, preparing for the questions I had already answered several times that day to other people.

    "Sixteen and already with such incredible achievements, impressive," strangely contrary to her words, the woman didn''t seem entirely surprised, simply raising one of her eyebrows slightly as she nodded.

    "I''ve just studied for a long time," I admitted, still puzzled by how the woman had taken it. Being introduced to so many people, I had become accustomed to the reactions and subsequent questions.

    "Yes, I can imagine," the woman said calmly, falling silent for a moment as she seemed to think about something.

    "Did Richard come?" Dr. Glassman changed the topic abruptly, appropriating the conversation as he scanned the other people at the party.

    "How would I know?" unconsciously touching her wrist, Dr. Grey, showing no emotion on her face, asked.

    "Yes, how would you?" Dr. Glassman asked arrogantly, "and your husband Thatcher?" he asked again, smiling amused.

    "Thatcher and I separated seven years ago when I came to Boston," still maintaining her expressionless face, Dr. Grey said, "he felt intimidated by my achievements," she explained with a touch of arrogance.

    "It''s a shame," rolling his eyes at the woman''s arrogance, Dr. Glassman said, "and how''s little Meredith, she''s what, ten now?" he kept the conversation going.

    "Twelve," Dr. Grey responded immediately, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Aaron, it was a great surprise to see you again, but I have to go to the restroom," Dr. Grey said quickly, still maintaining her expressionless face. "PJ, it was truly a pleasure to meet you; I hope we meet again sometime," she added with a small friendly smile before leaving.

    "She couldn''t wait to run away," Dr. Glassman laughed happily when Dr. Grey was far enough.

    "She is..." I paused for a moment to find the right word.

    "Special?" Dr. Glassman completed.

    "Yeah, that," I said, remembering the horrible description House had given of the woman.

    "Don''t take it personally, Ellis Grey has been like that since her residency years," Dr. Glassman said calmly, recalling his past.

    "Did you do your residency with her?" I asked intrigued, continuing the conversation.

    "Oh yes," the man replied, "you have to understand, despite not being the most pleasant, Ellis''s attitude has a reason behind it. When she started her surgery residency, the field was almost completely dominated by men," he continued, pointing to the people present at the party, the vast majority men, "in fact, it still is, although a little less pronounced than back then," he added with a hint of disappointment.

    "So she had a lot to prove," I immediately understood what he meant.

    "Yeah, of the twenty interns we were, she was the only woman, just like Richard, he was the only black man," he continued explaining, "it''s just that now that she has proven herself, she makes sure nobody forgets it," Dr. Glassman continued, rolling his eyes again, amused.

    "Well, I read that the Harper Avery is a big deal," I said, understanding a bit the reason behind the woman''s arrogance.

    "Oh, you have no idea," putting his hand on my shoulder, Dr. Glassman affirmed, amused. "Come on, let''s go sit at our table; I''ll introduce you to my wife."

    At one of the tables with some empty seats, Dr. Glassman approached a woman who occupied one of the few occupied seats at the table, "PJ, this is my wife Ilana. Ilana, meet PJ Duncan," with a cheerful smile, Dr. Glassman said.

    "Pleasure to meet you," shaking the woman''s hand, I said before taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.

    "PJ is a high school student who knows much more about medicine than many recent graduates," Dr. Glassman affirmed, introducing me to the other people at the table, once again starting what seemed to be more than a dozen times tonight, an interrogation about myself guided by the other people at the table.

    The night continued, and the party ended with some words of thanks from Dr. Thomas and Dr. Murray. It was obvious that everyone at the event was of great importance to the two doctors.

    Saying goodbye to the people I had met during the dinner event at Dr. Glassman''s table, with more business cards filling my pocket, I left following the Thomases out of the hall.

    "Ah, PJ, I missed you for the rest of the night," when I met Dr. Thomas again, the man said cheerfully, apparently a bit tipsy, "I hope the party wasn''t too boring for you," he continued.

    "Oh no, not at all, Doctor, thank you again for inviting me," feeling the large number of business cards in my pocket, I replied.

    "I saw you were with Aaron; he''s always been a good kid," Dottie said as she walked alongside Dr. Thomas.

    "Yes, Dr. Glassman was very kind and invited me to his table."

    "You had a place at our table, but I suppose Aaron learned a lot from Don," tapping her husband''s shoulder lightly, Dottie continued, amused.

    Outside the event hall, Frank was waiting, ready with the car running and the back door open.

    After the two elderly people got into the back, I decided again to take the front seat, making sure to unbutton my jacket, I smiled at Frank, who, unlike his professional appearance, raised his fist for a cheerful fist bump, which I gladly returned.

    At the Thomas'' house, after helping Dottie get the slightly tipsy Dr. Thomas up the stairs, I headed to the guest room to do some bodyweight training again before taking a quick shower to sleep.

    Early the next morning, with a few hours before my flight back home, as Dr. Thomas cheerfully prepared breakfast for the day, it being a day off for the household workers of the Thomas house.

    Watching the older man flip pieces of bacon in a pan, while Dottie, with Dr. Thomas'' help, told stories of the party guests, the doorbell of the house rang.

    "I''ll get it," cheerfully wiping his hands with a cloth he had with him, Dr. Thomas said before quickly leaving the kitchen. Surprisingly energetic for a person his age.

    "Sundays are the days when his ''prot¨¦g¨¦s'' are always invited for breakfast; it''s been a long time since we had anyone here," seeing her husband''s joy, Dottie explained with a gentle smile.

    "Look who''s here, Dottie," entering the kitchen, Dr. Thomas said cheerfully before showing the guests, Dr. Grey with an obviously uncomfortable blonde girl.

    "Ah, Ellis, it''s been a while since you''ve been around," Dottie said cheerfully, getting up to greet her guests, "Meredith, look at you, I remember when we first met you, you were such a sweet little thing, and now you''re a beautiful young lady," hugging the uncomfortable girl, who apparently didn''t fully recognize the woman, Dottie continued.

    "I''ve been a bit busy; I''ve been working on a new procedure for laparoscopic biliary reconstruction," with a small, almost imperceptible smile, Dr. Grey said, straightening her back with pride.

    Laparoscopic surgeries were a very interesting topic that, as time goes on, will advance rapidly. It was increasingly surprising to me that in my past life, I had never heard of Dr. Grey; apparently, she was making impressive advances in her own field of surgery.

    "No," raising one of her fingers, Dottie stopped Dr. Grey authoritatively, "I know you haven''t been here for a long time, but remember my rules," the usually kind elderly woman continued, raising one of her eyebrows, "we won''t talk about work until everyone has eaten."

    "You''re right, I''m sorry, Dottie," nodding, Dr. Grey said with a weak smile, "Meredith, come here," smiling slightly at me, the woman said, calling her daughter without even looking at her.

    "This is PJ; he''s sixteen and already making a name for himself in the medical field," taking her daughter by the shoulders, Dr. Grey said, facing her towards me, "you have to learn from his example; no matter your age, the least expected of you is to be extraordinary."

    "Hi," feeling a bit awkward being used as an example, almost like an exhibit in a museum, I greeted the obviously uncomfortable girl with a smile.

    "Hello," almost in a whisper, the girl responded, completely avoiding eye contact.

    "Perfect, now that we all know each other, take a seat," guiding Dr. Grey, and therefore Meredith, to the table, Dr. Thomas said cheerfully.

    "So, PJ, what are you focusing on in your studies, research?" still maintaining her slight smile, Dr. Grey asked immediately as we sat down.

    "PJ is an excellent diagnostician," while cooking a few steps away from us, Dr. Thomas said again with a strange feeling of pride in his voice.

    "Ah, really?" slightly widening her eyes, Dr. Grey asked, a bit surprised.

    "I''ve been learning a lot from Dr. House in Texas," I explained, making Dr. Grey''s expression change as if she had tasted a sour candy.

    "Gregory House?" still with clear displeasure on her face, Dr. Grey asked, obviously House''s feelings toward the woman are shared.

    "Yes, Gregory ''discovered'' him; in fact, through him was how I was able to get in touch with PJ," happily ignoring Dr. Grey''s expression, Dr. Thomas said.

    "I suppose Gregory is a good diagnostician," still with a bit of disdain on her face, Dr. Grey said, shaking her head with a bit of disdain.

    "He''s taught me a lot," I said, trying to end the awkward conversation.

    "So, are you steering your future towards managing a diagnostic department?" apparently also ending the House topic, Dr. Grey asked, "I think that would be a waste of your intellect; you should be a surgeon," she continued.

    "That''s what I said," with a big smile, Dr. Thomas said as he held one of the pots, "oh, I wish you''d seen it, Ellis, PJ handled an emergency situation like a professional, and all much before even Dottie or I could even think to act."

    "An emergency situation?" intrigued, Dr. Grey asked.

    "Oh, it''s nothing," I said, somewhat embarrassed by all the compliments.

    "Nothing?" Dottie, who up until that moment had been trying to engage Meredith in more than a one-word conversation, asked surprised, "don''t be modest, PJ, it was a very brave act, and you applied the technique with great expertise," she continued, "PJ saved the life of a man who was choking on poorly chewed food," Dottie explained.

    "Quite impressive," placing a hand on her daughter''s shoulder, Dr. Grey said, "you should definitely be a surgeon. How much time do you have left in high school?" she asked, interested.

    "I''m in my freshman year," I replied.

    "So, are you preparing for early graduation?" silently thanking Dr. Thomas, who served some breakfast on my plate, Dr. Grey asked again.

    "Oh no, not at least for now. I want to enjoy what''s left of my high school years before formally starting my studies," I explained while gratefully helping Dr. Thomas serve food onto my plate.

    "What?" for the first time, something I said really took her by surprise.

    "Yes, I don''t want to rush my education entirely," I said, "although I ''study'' with Dr. House and take some of my free time to make my small contribution to Dr. Thomas''s research, I''m not really pressured to do so," I explained, somewhat embarrassed by the inconsistency of my words with my actions.

    Stolen story; please report.

    "I don''t understand," incredulous, Dr. Grey said, furrowing her brow slightly.

    "PJ wants to live his adolescence without many more responsibilities than someone his age would have," seizing the opportunity, Dottie explained kindly, smiling at me.

    "Yes, I have many friends at school, I go to parties, do activities that are totally opposite to studying medicine. I like to think that I''m enjoying my life," I said calmly, focusing slightly on the still uncomfortable girl, surely it was difficult to live under the pressure of her mother''s shadow, who was a leader in her field of work.

    "And you''re right," squeezing my arm, Dottie said cheerfully, "time passes too quickly not to enjoy it," she continued, smiling affectionately at her husband.

    Judging by the expression on Dr. Grey''s face, my possibly fanciful idea of enjoying my life seemed like nonsense, but Meredith, who was out of sight of her mother, smiled slightly, as a girl her age should.

    "Oh wait, you''re twelve, right?" remembering my siblings, I asked, making the girl nod. I remembered Dr. Grey''s conversation with Dr. Glassman.

    "My sister asked me to bring her clothes and shoes; I thought you might know where to buy something for her. She''s only a year older than you," I quickly explained, imagining how my question might seem strange.

    "Oh yeah," much more easily than any of her previous interactions, she responded, "you can go to Alloy, Delia''s, five seven nine, Limited Too," she began listing cheerfully, "I can go with you if you want," the girl said with obvious interest.

    "What a great idea, we can all go shopping before it''s time to take PJ to the airport," Dottie said cheerfully.

    "That sounds like a plan to me," with a big smile, Dr. Thomas said.

    "Yeah, sure," completely swept away by the two elderly people, Dr. Grey had no choice but to respond, making her daughter''s smile a little more present.

    As breakfast continued, with a slight change of thought, Meredith, a little less inhibited, began to speak with longer sentences than just one word with Dottie, who had been trying to talk to the girl from the start.

    As that happened, Dr. Thomas and Dr. Grey, with some questions and observations from me, caught up on matters that I was sure bordered on the line of the rule that Dottie had made clear before breakfast, about the life of the surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital and some cases she had to deal with.

    After breakfast, at Dottie''s orders and apparently being part of the ''tradition'' in the Thomas household, we all helped with the cleaning of the kitchen, some with the dishes while others took care of the surfaces, table, and floor, nothing really complicated.

    My flight didn''t leave for several hours, giving me enough time to go shopping for gifts, return, and have my luggage ready again, which thanks to Alfred basically just needed to be packed.

    In Dr. Thomas'' car, while the elderly man and I sat in the front with the three women of different ages in the back following the directions of the only one who knew where the stores were, Meredith, we arrived at a mall, one of the, according to the locals of the group, dozens of other shopping centers in the city.

    Now I could understand my sister''s ''disdain'' for the stores at home. There was a clear difference between the mall in Medford and any other shopping center in Boston, not only in visible quality but also in size. Easily the Medford mall could fit two, possibly even three times inside the Boston mall.

    Almost endless lines of cars were parked in the surprisingly large parking lot of the place, and despite that, many of the spots were empty, surely because it was Sunday or because of the large number of different shopping centers.

    Following Meredith, who strangely, unlike her mother, who was lost in the place, seemed to know the place by heart, we visited several stores where the girl, along with Dottie, helped me choose some clothes that Teddy might like. My observational skills apparently had a limit in fashion; I generally remembered the type of clothes my sister used to wear on a daily basis, but I couldn''t imagine her wearing any other kind of clothing.

    "I think your sister might like this shirt," fortunately, Meredith, being practically the same age as Teddy, seemed to know at least a little more about what she might like.

    After visiting a few stores, the Thomas couple didn''t take long to feel tired. "We can stay in this caf¨¦; you guys continue," in one of the mall''s locales, Dr. Thomas said, pointing to a coffee shop.

    "Meredith, I''ll stay with the Thomas; you can go with PJ if you want. Here you go," taking money from her purse, Dr. Grey handed her daughter a couple of bills, "PJ, could you take care of Meredith?" the woman asked.

    "Of course," I replied, having quite a bit of experience taking care of children Meredith''s age. It could never be more complicated than with the Wilkerson kids.

    The three adults entered the caf¨¦, leaving Meredith and me alone.

    "Well, it looks like it''s just you and me now. Shall we go to the next store?" I asked the girl.

    "Yeah," she replied happily.

    Following the excited girl through the stores of her choice, buying most of the clothes she chose and helping her with her own bags, I noticed that away from her mother, she was like any other child her age.

    Being several tens of dollars poorer and with a bunch of bags from different stores in my arms, I decided that it was enough for a gift for my teenage sister. "Now, do you know what your classmates, the kids, would like as a gift?" I asked as we took a break on one of the mall benches.

    "Definitely video games; several of my classmates have this little box where they play during breaks," the girl replied seriously as she tried to mimic what she was saying with her hands.

    "I know those," I said; House always had one with him.

    "Yeah, I think they sell them at Best Buy," standing up with a small smile, Meredith said, urging me to walk.

    "Welcome, do you need help?" upon entering the store, an employee, a thin and very tall teenager, approached to ask.

    "Yes, I was wondering if you had this portable video game," describing with my hands the size of the small console, I said.

    "Oh yeah, the Game Boy," nodding with a big smile, the employee said silently, indicating for us to follow him.

    On one of the store shelves, small colorful boxes were organized, "these are the Game Boys, and there you have the cartridges," the employee said, pointing to another bunch of small square boxes.

    "What? Apart from the Game Boy, do we have to buy other things?" I asked really intrigued; there was a small variety of games, each one costing upwards of twenty dollars, the same console cost almost a hundred dollars.

    "Oh yes, the Game Boy is just a portable console; to play, you have to buy the games," the employee said, nodding slightly, "well, I''ll be around; if you need anything else, don''t hesitate to call me."

    "Do you think this is ''cool''?" taking one of the small boxes, I asked Meredith, who nodded with a big smile.

    "Okay, let''s choose some games," approaching the other boxes, I said as I looked at the drawings on the front of each one.

    "Hey, look at that, Batman," taking one of the small boxes with the symbol I remembered from one of Gabe''s comics, I said, "Super Mario Land, looks cool," taking a couple more games mentally adding up the total almost reached two hundred dollars, in just a few small boxes.

    I still had cash that Bob had withdrawn for me, but I didn''t want to spend all the cash I had with me. Paying with a card, Meredith and I left the store, me carrying a new bag.

    "I think that''s it," I said, raising my arms with bags; I hoped that buying gifts wouldn''t become some kind of tradition. In a few years, I would have to travel constantly again, and if this continues, I would have to think about always paying for extra luggage.

    Remembering that I really had limited space inside the suitcase, discarding the pair of bags that belonged to my young companion, I had dozens of garments that possibly wouldn''t fit inside the suitcase alongside my clothes. Even with the small volume of my brother''s gift, it possibly wouldn''t fit.

    In one of the stores we passed on our way to Best Buy, I remembered they sold backpacks. Returning to the place, I bought one to use as carry-on luggage and with a little luck have enough space to carry everything back to Medford.

    I also took the opportunity to buy small and not so expensive gifts for mom and Bob, a pair of earrings and a wallet respectively.

    "You''re extraordinary, aren''t you?" Meredith asked seriously as we walked through the mall back to where the adults were probably having coffee.

    "You flatter me, but if you truly believe it then it must be true," I replied arrogantly to the girl, smiling.

    "No, I mean my mom says it," the embarrassed girl quickly clarified.

    "It seems like your mom really likes that word," I said, nodding as I discreetly studied the girl''s expression. She seemed to be having trouble expressing some concern. "Your mom has her own idea of what being extraordinary means," I continued, walking towards what I recognized as the same donut shop where I had shared a delicious chocolate milkshake with Kat several weeks ago.

    "So, is she wrong?" Meredith asked, following me into the donut shop, joining a small line with a few people.

    "Oh no," I replied after paying for two chocolate milkshakes. "I think there are many types of extraordinary," I continued.

    "I don''t understand," the girl said with a complicated expression, shaking her head.

    "Yes, just on this trip alone, I met dozens of ''extraordinary'' people, and I don''t necessarily think they fit into what your mom considers extraordinary, but that doesn''t mean she''s wrong," I explained, receiving two delicious chocolate milkshakes with gratitude.

    "But you saw her reaction when you said you wanted to enjoy your life, I think that''s extraordinary, and she doesn''t," Meredith said as we walked to one of the empty tables in the shop, enjoying her own milkshake. She seemed to not fully understand what I was trying to explain.

    "Well, first of all, thank you for that. I also think that trying to enjoy life is something extraordinary," I said, smiling at the girl, teasing her, "your own definition of what is ''extraordinary'' is as valid as mine or your mother''s, or at least that''s what I think."

    "Here in Boston, I first met the Thomases, who, I don''t know if you knew, but they made incredible advances in the history of medicine," I said. "Obviously, that''s why they''re extraordinary doctors," I explained, "but the way they treat other people, how quickly they make someone feel at home by inviting them to their home without any problem, basically treating them like family, that makes them extraordinary people."

    "Then I met the owner of a restaurant who was extraordinarily shameless, he didn''t mind shouting, hugging, or even kissing people he met for the first time, a quite liberating experience but one I couldn''t replicate on my own," I continued, smiling at the slow realization on the girl''s face as she began to understand what I was trying to explain.

    "Then I met an extraordinary driver and an extraordinary butler who showed me more about etiquette and elegance in two days than I had learned in my entire life," I said, remembering Frank and Alfred.

    "And today, of all things, I met an extraordinary girl who reminded me how extraordinary it is to enjoy life and who was kind enough to help me choose gifts for my siblings," I said, smiling amusedly at Meredith''s embarrassment at my words.

    "So yes, I believe ''extraordinary'' has many definitions," I finished.

    After finishing our milkshakes, Meredith, much later than me¡ªI was starting to develop a problem with chocolate milkshakes¡ªreturned to where the Thomases and Dr. Grey had separated from us several minutes ago. Meredith seemed to still be thinking about everything I had told her.

    Even on the way back to the Thomases'' house, the girl seemed pensive as she chatted with Dottie, occasionally giving me looks that tried to be discreet but failed spectacularly. Having trained a lot in observation skills, it wasn''t difficult to notice when someone was watching you.

    When we arrived at the Thomases'' house, the two Greys had to leave, as Dr. Grey had work to do. "PJ, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to know more about you," Dr. Grey said formally, shaking my hand before leaving and saying goodbye to the Thomases in the same way.

    Meredith, after hesitating for a few seconds, quickly hugged my torso. "Thank you," I heard her say before the girl separated and said goodbye to the Thomases as her mother had done, with Dottie dragging her into a hug immediately afterward.

    "You''re very good with kids," when Dr. Grey and Meredith left, Dottie strangely said, "whoever wins your heart will be a really lucky girl," lightly tapping my shoulder, the woman said proudly, leaving without allowing me to say anything.

    "PJ, we have forty minutes before we have to go to the airport, and it looks like you have much more to pack. I recommend you start as soon as possible," seeing all the bags next to the backpack of things I bought, Dr. Thomas said, smiling amusedly.

    With the suitcase forcibly closed and my backpack filled with everything that didn''t fit in the suitcase, I was ready to return home.

    Again with Dr. Thomas at the wheel, this time with Dottie in the front seat, we set off for the airport.

    "You have to come for more days on your winter vacation, in fact, you should come with your whole family. I would love to meet your parents and siblings," outside the airport, after taking my belongings from the trunk of the Thomases'' car, Dottie dragged me into a hug.

    "That sounds like a great idea," returning the hug to the incredibly kind old lady, I said confidently, "thank you very much for allowing me to stay in your house."

    "You''re a great kid, don''t let anything change that," pressing one of my cheeks, the woman said, "you''ll always have open doors to my house," she continued with a big smile before stepping back to allow Dr

    . Thomas to also say goodbye.

    "PJ," stretching out his hand with a warm smile, Dr. Thomas said, "as Dottie said, you have to come again, obviously before you come to study full-time and we can spend much more time together," smiling proudly, the doctor continued.

    "Thank you very much for inviting me, doctor," amused by the doctor''s confidence in my medical school decision, I said, shaking the man''s hand.

    "Oh, none of that, it''s your own efforts that got you here, my invitation was nothing more than my own interest in meeting such an impressive young man," affectionately patting my shoulder, the doctor replied, "now go in there before I change my mind and make you stay," the man continued sarcastically.

    "Don''t be silly," hitting her husband''s shoulder, Dottie scolded him, "I wasn''t lying, PJ, you have to come again on winter vacation, I''ll arrange it with your parents," continuing to hug the same arm of her husband that she had hit a second ago, Dottie continued.

    "I look forward to it," I replied, smiling at the couple who had kindly treated me like family in no more than three days of knowing me; it felt good.

    After saying goodbye to the Thomases, the processes on the plane, like with my journey here, didn''t take long. Fortunately, all my luggage passed without problems, and before boarding, I bought several small souvenirs from the city at one of the airport shops, and before I knew it, I was tens of thousands of feet in the air flying back home.

    My flight, leaving earlier than the previous one, obviously arrived in Texas much earlier than before. After picking up my luggage from the conveyor belts, I walked to the airport reception.

    "There he is," I heard Mom shout in her easily recognizable voice tone.

    Several steps away from me, my siblings, along with Mom and Bob carrying a sign with my name followed by a big ''welcome,'' were waiting with big smiles.

    Teddy and Gabe, releasing the sign, ran towards where I was; this definitely felt good.

    Dropping my suitcase, I prepared for a strong hug from my siblings.

    It never came.

    "Did you bring gifts?" passing by me in an impressive synchronization, Gabe and Teddy asked at the same time, ready to open my suitcase.

    Impressed as well as amused by the scene, I could only burst out laughing, quickly grabbing my suitcase to prevent the two eager animals from tearing it apart looking for gifts.

    "I missed you guys too," I ironically said, stepping away from the kids and walking towards the adults.

    "You look so different, so mature," receiving the kind of welcome I expected, Mom said as she hugged me tightly.

    "Yeah, it doesn''t seem like you''ve been gone for just three days," smiling sarcastically, Bob said as he took my suitcase, "come on, we have to leave now to avoid the road getting dark," giving me a shoulder hug, Bob said, guiding me and Mom, who had started to tear up at some point, towards the exit, with Teddy and Gabe following closely.

    During the car ride back to Medford in Bob''s car, after being scolded by Mom, my siblings started asking all sorts of questions about the trip, the people I had met, and the places I had visited.

    Much beyond knowing the mall and the incredibly fancy restaurant, I hadn''t really visited many interesting places, so they quickly lost interest in my trip. Also, as a reprimand for their way of welcoming me, I avoided any questions related to gifts, surely making them think I had forgotten about them.

    When we arrived home, after being seated for several hours, the first to get off the car and probably headed to the bathroom was Mom.

    A few moments later, everyone else in the car followed her inside the house, stopping at the front door and seeing the inside, I saw Bob silently asking, "Your mother prepared a welcome party, the Coopers will be here in a few minutes," smiling slightly, Bob said.

    "She remembers I was only gone for three days, right?" I asked.

    "Just give her this," Bob chuckled, pushing me into the house.

    Fortunately, at my ''welcome'' party, only the Coopers attended from the people who were invited.

    "I invited Dr. House, but unfortunately, he had to attend a consultation with Dr. Sterling," Mom said, and I didn''t have the heart to explain to her that ''Dr. Sterling'' was a character from House''s favorite soap opera.

    "He''s been like this since he found out the reason you went to Boston; I still don''t fully understand it, but you should do it more often," after dinner, pointing to her younger brother Georgie, she said amusedly.

    Sheldon, with a deeply furrowed brow, was methodically chewing his food. I hadn''t had time to talk to the kid because with the arrival of the new adults, I narrated my trip to Boston again during dinner.

    "Are you okay, Sheldon?" I asked worriedly.

    "For now, you''re way ahead, but someday I''ll win the Nobel Prize in Physics, and obviously, it''s better than the one in medicine, like peace and literature, anyone can win those," with disdain, the boy said, although I could really tell he was hurt; after all, he was still a child.

    "I''m sure you will, Sheldon," I replied. Obviously, the kid knew what the Nobel was, and because of the ''competition'' we had now, he felt very far behind.

    "It''s time for PJ''s surprise," when everyone, except Sheldon, who took a long time to chew his food, finished their dinners, Mom said with a big smile as she stood up, "close your eyes," she ordered me seriously.

    Following the pregnant woman''s indication, I covered my eyes, really surprised as I didn''t expect a welcome gift from my three-day trip. Feeling something being placed in front of me on the table, I waited until I was allowed to open my eyes again.

    "You can open them," excitedly, Mom said.

    A framed piece of paper was in front of me. "Local hero. A prodigy in medicine, by David Wallace," I read on what I immediately recognized as an article from a newspaper.

    The flash of some kind of camera that my mom has holding pulled me out of a small trance.

    "What?"

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    Extraordinary.

    So, a new character has been added to a TV show, who is it?

    Here, someone might find a discrepancy with the way I portrayed Meredith Grey in her childhood. Apart from what I know (I haven''t watched the entire series, I''m approximately in season 12), which is when she was a very young 5-year-old, there are no other comments about her character at that age until she talks about her adolescence, when she was 15+ years old, wearing a lot of black and having her hair dyed pink.

    Personally, I like the way I approach the character in her childhood and pre-adolescence, which is how I imagine a person with as many traumas as Meredith Grey to be. As we progress in the story, I will try to organically evolve her character into what she is in the series.

    The same goes for the character of Ellis Grey. Apart from what is known about the character, during the flashback episodes and what other characters, as well as herself, say about her and her past, is what I think is more accurate to what her character could be at that time.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 55

    This is a special chapter, one made to try to write much more than I had ever done before from a change of perspective.

    I''m sorry, but this chapter can be considered a filler chapter, so there isn''t really any story development (which doesn''t mean it''s not related to the story) but if you don''t want to read it and wait until the next chapter, you are perfectly welcome to do so.

    Meanwhile, those who do prefer to read this ''special'' chapter.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Along with a bunch of my friends, we went, as we do every year, to a barbecue at the same camping area. We had been doing it since we were in high school, and it was a tradition I hoped would continue for a long time. I really hoped we could keep it going.

    Callie was eight months pregnant, which at that time, stupidly, didn¡¯t seem like such a risky situation to me.

    The day was like any other day in Texas, completely sunny and perfect for a day in the woods.

    A few hours after we arrived, a small family of three men of different ages arrived in an unattractive yellow truck with ads for an exterminator company.

    Bob, obviously the owner of the company because of the name on the side of the truck, the father of the two boys traveling in the car, was a pleasant person, so they easily integrated into our group after Callie and I introduced ourselves.

    PJ, as his father and brother called him, was a tall teenager and, by the looks of it, physically well-built, with a pleasant attitude and a maturity far beyond what I could imagine from a teenager his age.

    It was clear that the boy should be popular just for these traits, but despite this, he didn¡¯t seem arrogant at all. In fact, quite the opposite. From the moment Callie and I approached the Duncan trio, the boy eloquently and concernedly asked how many months pregnant Callie was. Thinking back, it was possibly a sign of his worry.

    After the Duncans settled into the camping site and after introducing Bob to the others, we continued with the barbecue.

    The younger boy, about ten years old, like any other child his age, quickly got bored with the fishing trip with his father. Fortunately, he had his older brother and a few comic books.

    At some point in the afternoon, the storm began. It arrived so quickly and suddenly that it was a stressful situation for everyone. According to the hospital doctors, this could have been one of the triggers for the premature labor.

    On the kind of island away from the shore where everyone else was, only Callie, PJ, and I were separated by a stroke of bad or good luck. Because of Callie''s pains and the speed at which the water moved in the river channels, it was impossible to reach the other side safely.

    Callie''s screams and the difficulty of the situation put me in check. I didn¡¯t know what to do, and the pressure of everything happening could have been fatal if only Callie and I had been there.

    ¡°There¡¯s a tent up there still,¡± PJ shouted, snapping me out of the horrible and useless trance I was in. Without waiting, he helped me with Callie, and we walked to one of the tents his family had set up for the night.

    ¡°How far apart are the contractions?¡± With incredible professionalism, the teenager, several years younger than me, asked while helping me lay Callie on the floor of the tent.

    The boy seemed completely unperturbed, as if this were an everyday occurrence. Callie answered his question, and the boy continued. Due to the shock of the situation, I didn¡¯t fully understand the sentence he said after that, just the end.

    ¡°We have to deliver this baby now,¡± preparing his clothes, the boy said with the same serious demeanor he had carried for several minutes.

    ¡°What?¡± I immediately asked, unable to believe what I had heard.

    Showing that my disbelief was unfounded, PJ immediately took control of the situation, speaking seriously to me, ordering me to stay by Callie¡¯s side throughout the difficult procedure before he left to get what he needed for the emergency delivery.

    With incredible professionalism, PJ did what I can only describe as the work of an expert, doing things I later learned doctors train for months to do, as if he had done it before, helping Callie through the process and ensuring he took care of every moment for my son and my wife.

    After what seemed like hours with Callie in labor and PJ taking care of everything, my beautiful wife screamed, begging for the impossibility of what she had to do.

    It seemed impossible, but once again, the teenager, making sure I was paying attention to what he was saying, ¡°I know how to do an emergency C-section, but the baby is about to come out, and it could be dangerous right now,¡± he affirmed, surprising me once again.

    Feeling useless for all the ways I couldn¡¯t help my Callie in this process beyond staying by her side, I leaned in, ¡°You can do this. You¡¯re Callie Wallace; there¡¯s nothing you haven¡¯t been able to do before, just one more time, honey,¡± I said into my wife¡¯s ear, squeezing her hand, feeling her squeeze mine in response.

    Nodding at the teenager, Callie pushed once more with a scream. ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± PJ affirmed, lifting a weight off my shoulders.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t he crying?¡± a second later, Callie, beside me, asked with extreme worry, making that weight return in an instant.

    ¡°Damn,¡± for the first time since we entered the tent, PJ said with concern, moving quickly.

    If I hadn¡¯t been so worried about my baby¡¯s health, I would have been even more impressed by the boy¡¯s ¡®work¡¯ in saving my child¡¯s life.

    While PJ applied what felt like an eternity of CPR to the baby, which paramedics and doctors later explained to me was the proper method for a baby, I could only pray for my child¡¯s well-being, not even feeling the pressure Callie was applying to my hand.

    ¡°Waaah!¡± For the first time in my life, I heard my child¡¯s cry. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever feel so relieved to hear anything in my life.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± talking to my baby, I heard the teenager, who was shedding tears despite his incredible feat. ¡°Congratulations, it¡¯s a boy,¡± he said, laughing slightly while trying to hold back more tears. I immediately imitated him, crying with relief.

    A few minutes later, when we all managed to calm our nerves, my journalist instincts kicked in. Unfortunately, Callie didn¡¯t allow me to bother the amazing teenager, so I only got a few answers to the questions flooding my mind about PJ¡¯s actions.

    The paramedics and emergency services arrived not long after, and with the help of the park rangers, we crossed to the other side of the river, where an emergency helicopter was waiting to take us to the nearest hospital. PJ, once again showing his incredible knowledge, quickly and thoroughly explained the situation to one of the paramedics.

    ¡°I won¡¯t forget this, PJ. Thank you so much. I¡¯ll find you someday,¡± I managed to say to the boy one last time before leaving in the helicopter.

    At the hospital, after an entire night of ensuring Callie and our son weren¡¯t seriously harmed, I was ready to go out and investigate the story.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± my now much better-rested wife, mother of my child, asked, frowning and incredibly upset.

    ¡°I have to go investigate for a story,¡± I said, embarrassed.

    ¡°Your son just got born, and you¡¯re already thinking about writing? You¡¯re forbidden from going near your typewriter for at least a month,¡± Callie ordered furiously but quietly, not wanting to wake our baby.

    ¡°Callie, when will I ever find another story like this from a town like this? A teenager with incredible medical knowledge saved our child¡¯s life. I have to write the story,¡± I said, preparing to beg if necessary.

    ¡°Two weeks,¡± with little intention to negotiate further, Callie conceded after a few seconds of contemplating my words.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I exclaimed, relieved, hoping no one would find this incredible story before I could write it. Amazingly, I was right.

    During the longest but most rewarding two weeks of my life, I lived without touching my typewriter, taking care of my wife and my newborn baby, who was fortunately in perfect health.

    When my ¡®ban¡¯ ended, I returned to my work. I had to start with what I knew. They lived in the small town where the hospital was, Medford, only an hour and a half from Houston, where we live.

    Also, thanks to Bob Duncan, I knew they had moved to Medford from Colorado a few months ago.

    Spending a few hours on my first day of investigation at the city¡¯s public library, I read many local newspapers looking for any articles that might have already been published about the teenager. I was sure he had prior experiences helping people.

    The most I found was an incident at the mall where someone was seriously injured, putting their life at risk, but an unidentified person saved them. I had a slight suspicion that the mysterious unidentified person was PJ.

    Apart from that, there was nothing else. I was the first to write about someone I was sure would be famous one day. Even considering the type of news the small town published, my story would be known by all.

    Thus, my days of investigation continued. Being such a small town, it wasn''t a very difficult search. With only a couple of high schools to check and the public records of Bob Duncan''s company, I had more than enough information about the boy to continue.

    The first thing, since PJ was still a minor, was to obtain permission from his parents.

    Although Bob owned a "company," he, his truck, and his tools were all the company had. Surprisingly, the man single-handedly worked for entire buildings around the small town where they lived.

    "Bob Duncan, I don''t know if you remember me," I said when I had enough information about the man''s work life and approached him at the end of one of his extermination jobs.

    "Of course I do, David. I''m glad to see you again. How are you? Your family, are they well?" After a few short seconds used to recall my face, the man immediately said with a big smile, removing one of his gloves to offer a handshake.

    "I''m doing very well, thank you. Callie and the baby are also perfectly fine," I responded, accepting the man''s handshake.

    "Do you work here?" Bob Duncan asked, pointing to the building he had just exited a few minutes ago, concerned. "They have¡ªwell, had¡ªa severe termite infestation," he added with a bit of arrogance, obviously proud of his work.

    "No, actually, I''m here to meet with you," I said, mentally hoping the man wouldn''t be worried that I was following him.

    "Why? Do you have a pest problem that you need me to solve?" The man immediately asked seriously; he obviously took his work seriously.

    "Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to have a conversation with you and your wife about your son PJ," I quickly explained. "I don''t know if you remember, but I''m a journalist. I''d like to write an article about your son," I continued immediately, noticing the doubts on Bob''s face.

    "An article?" Bob asked, taken by surprise. "Do you know something about the award?" he asked again with suspicion, strangely excited.

    "The award?" It was my turn to be surprised; there was no mention of an award in any local newspaper.

    "It''s just something Amy, my wife, mentioned," Bob explained as if it were no big deal. "How about this, I''m heading home now. The kids are at school, and Amy is probably getting ready for work. Why don''t you come for a cup of coffee, and we can discuss this article?" Bob said, finishing packing his things into his yellow truck.

    "Perfect, thank you very much," I said before heading back to where my car was parked.

    The drive back to the Duncan''s house didn''t take long as I followed Bob in his truck.

    Inside their house in a middle-class neighborhood, I saw many photographs of a happy family. I could recognize two of the children in most of the pictures, while there was another girl I had never seen before.

    "Hello, I''m Amy Duncan, PJ Duncan''s mother. Bob says you want to write an article about our son. We''re completely on board," suddenly said a not very tall woman with a high-pitched voice, obviously excited, as she shook my hand.

    "Oh yes, do you know what PJ did for my family and me a few weeks ago?" I asked, taking the seat on the sofa the woman was offering, relieved by how easily I had obtained PJ''s parents'' approval.

    "Of course, I know. Bob told me everything," the woman responded, striking poses as if I were holding a camera. "PJ is quite the hero, something he clearly inherited from me," she continued proudly. "You can put that in the article," she added excitedly.

    Bob, sitting on the other side of the sofa with his own cup of coffee, strangely nodded at his wife''s words while sipping his coffee.

    "Okay," I said, taking a big gulp of coffee, trying to avoid showing the discomfort the woman''s posing and profile showing was causing me.

    "The title could be something like ''Mother of the Century, Her Son a Hero,''" the woman said with a big smile, moving her hands as if the title appeared in front of her face.

    "Honey, why don''t you sit down and let David talk," Bob said, finally rescuing me from the discomfort by guiding his peculiar wife to sit beside him on the sofa.

    "Thank you," I couldn''t help but say. "As I''m sure Bob mentioned, I''d like to write an article as a token of gratitude about PJ. While we were in the forest, I had a brief conversation with PJ about his knowledge in medicine."

    "Well, I''m a nurse. PJ gets his interest in medicine from me," the woman quickly explained, almost immediately interrupted by Bob.

    "No, that''s actually interesting. So, you''re a nurse, which is why PJ is so knowledgeable about medicine? He learned from a young age?" I asked, taking notes.

    "Yeah," the woman responded immediately, puffing her chest with pride. "No," Bob corrected her right away.

    "No?" I asked.

    "Well, PJ wasn''t the most, how to put it," Bob paused to think, "brilliant," he finally said.

    "That''s one way to put it," Amy Duncan said, nodding slightly after being corrected.

    "I don''t understand," I said. Not the most brilliant¡ªthat didn''t sound at all like the teenager I met a couple of weeks ago.

    "Back in Colorado, PJ wasn''t very ''brilliant,''" Amy commented, nodding towards Bob, "until the day we arrived in Texas and the accident happened," she continued, nodding slightly, corroborating with her husband.

    "Accident?" I asked, intrigued, while taking notes on what the woman was narrating.

    "Yes, while we were unpacking our belongings from the moving truck, PJ tripped and hit his head. It was quite scary," adding theatricality to her narration, Amy continued. "He lost consciousness for a few seconds. Bob wasn''t there yet, so I had to take him to the hospital by myself," the woman continued, still overacting.

    "I was in the bathroom," Bob responded, embarrassed.

    "Anyway, at the hospital, they immediately did dozens of medical exams. Fortunately, his health was perfect," Amy quickly said. "Unfortunately, the blow caused amnesia. The doctor who attended him believed it would pass, but so far, nothing has come back," the woman continued, still overacting.

    "Amnesia," I said, surprised, continuing to write in my notes.

    "And from then on, it was as if a curtain had been lifted, and PJ started to be ''brilliant,''" Bob continued for his wife.

    "So, your son went from not remembering anything to having incredible knowledge in medicine in just a few short months?" I asked, incredulous.

    "Basically," Bob and Amy responded in unison, nodding.

    "I spoke with some of the doctors at the hospital where I work. There are documented cases where brain trauma, like a blow to the head, can cause cognitive changes. The usual outcome is negative, but in very few and rare cases, they can do wonders," Amy explained cheerfully.

    "And you think your son is one of those cases?" I asked, noting ideas for the article.

    "All parents think their children are special," Amy sincerely affirmed, and I completely agreed with her. "I don''t think the knowledge just appeared in his head, you know?" the woman continued. "I think it simply made it easier for him to absorb information, but PJ still studies a lot. His room is almost always full of books."

    It was obvious they were both proud of the teenager. Who wouldn''t be?

    "He also told me something about the hospital. Is that where he gets all these books?" I asked, making more notes in my small notebook.

    "Oh yes, ever since he started studying under Dr. House, the number of books he''s brought home has only increased. His grades are perfect, and my nurse colleagues at the hospital always talk about his study hours at the clinic," Amy proudly affirmed, smiling.

    "He studies at the hospital?" I asked, surprised once more.

    "Oh yes, it''s something ''unofficial.'' He studies with Dr. House, who is a very renowned diagnostician specializing in difficult cases," Amy continued, even prouder, if possible.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "So, PJ learns by watching Dr. House work?" I asked, jotting down the new and interesting name.

    "Yes, something like that. In fact, he helps quite a bit with the cases, obviously just giving opinions. Anything more than that would be irresponsible," Amy responded, maintaining her proud smile.

    While drinking the coffee the proud couple had given me, I listened to dozens of stories about their eldest son. Most of them were not particularly relevant for the article I wanted to write, but overall, the love these two parents had for their boy was evident.

    "So, when will we be able to read this article?" Amy Duncan asked several minutes after we had arrived at the Duncan house. The two adults had to continue with their daily duties, marking the end of our conversation.

    "If all goes as planned, possibly in one or two weeks, maybe on a Saturday," I replied, putting away my small notebook filled with interesting information.

    "I can''t wait to see PJ''s face when he reads the article. It will be an incredible surprise," Amy said excitedly as she and Bob guided me out of their house.

    "I hope so," I said, shaking hands again and thanking the couple as I left the Duncan''s home.

    With the help of the Duncans, I had obtained the phone number of the principal of the high school where PJ attended to continue my investigation. The next day, outside of school hours, I had managed to schedule an appointment with the principal.

    "Yes, Duncan is undoubtedly one of the brightest students we have at the school," Principal Peterson responded excitedly, beginning the interview after I had properly introduced myself.

    "One of the brightest? PJ isn''t the one with the best grades?" I asked, writing in my small notebook, taking the man by surprise as I discovered him in what seemed to be a slight exaggeration.

    "Well," the man elongated the word nervously, "we have a student who is only nine years old and is undoubtedly a genius," he continued, straightening his posture. For some reason, talking about this peculiar child made him nervous. "But about the grades, I think the teachers have more information on that. I know they share many classes together."

    The man''s partial ignorance of the boy''s grades left little to ask about.

    "I think I have everything I need. Is it possible to speak with some of PJ''s teachers?" I said with a small smile, seeing the few notes I had from my conversation with Principal Peterson.

    "Of course, the teachers are in the teachers'' lounge. I asked them to wait a few minutes because you might have questions for them as well," the man said excitedly as he stood up, placing his hand on my shoulder to guide me out of his office.

    "The school is completely proud to have people like PJ in its halls," Principal Peterson said as we walked towards what I assumed was the teachers'' lounge. "Maybe the article could include a mention of the support the school provides for his extracurricular activities," he hinted as we reached the door of the lounge.

    "Of course, I will write about the support PJ receives from this school," I assured immediately, though at the moment, there wasn''t much to write about.

    Inside the lounge, the smell of cigarettes and coffee was the first thing I noticed. Four obviously exhausted teachers were waiting inside the room.

    "Everyone, this is David Wallace. He''s writing an article in the newspaper about PJ Duncan," Principal Peterson introduced me as some of the teachers extinguished their lit cigarettes.

    "I knew it was only a matter of time before someone wrote an article about the boy," one of the present teachers, a fat man, said amusedly. "What did he do now?" he asked.

    "George Cooper, the football team''s coach," Principal Peterson said, smiling cheerfully as he introduced the man.

    "He saved my baby''s life," I responded, smiling at the amused teachers.

    "Obviously," one of the present teachers said, amused. "Victoria McElroy, I teach English," the woman introduced herself.

    "I''m telling you, that boy should be in some university right now," another teacher present, a lanky and balding man, affirmed.

    "But if he goes, we won''t have anyone to balance out Cooper," another teacher, a woman of color, immediately disagreed, causing Coach Cooper to press his lips in embarrassment and the lanky teacher to nod in agreement with relief.

    "Evelyn Ingram, math, and Hubert Givens, science," Principal Peterson said, giving the last two teachers a stern look as they were introduced.

    "I''ll leave you with them, David. It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to reading the article," the principal said, shaking my hand once more.

    "Thank you," I said as we watched the man leave the lounge.

    "So, what would you like to know about the boy?" Coach Cooper asked, breaking the silence caused by the principal''s departure.

    "You don''t seem very surprised that the boy saved a life," I stated, taking my notebook out of my jacket. "Is that common?" I asked.

    "Obviously, it''s not common for a teenager to save a life," Ms. Ingram stated matter-of-factly.

    "But when it comes to PJ Duncan, many things are not common," Mr. Givens said, amused.

    "Besides, it has happened before," Ms. McElroy said, looking at her colleagues. "Remember that time, everyone was talking about it, PJ saved a barista''s life?" she said, trying to recall.

    "Not just that time," Coach Cooper said, nodding. "The Duncans are our neighbors, and a couple of months ago, I had an attack," he continued, pointing to his chest. "The boy gave me an aspirin before his parents helped my wife and me get to the hospital," he narrated. "The doctors said the aspirin was a great idea. I don''t remember why," he finished, laughing slightly.

    "I didn''t know you were a neighbor of the Duncans," I said, writing down the truly interesting information the teachers had given.

    "Oh yes, you must have met Amy and Bob. Obviously, you can''t write about PJ without their consent," the coach said. "We live next door to them," he continued with strange pride.

    "Yes, I met the Duncans yesterday, in fact," I affirmed. "But back to the topic, PJ stands out for his exceptional medical knowledge at his age?" I asked.

    "Not just for that," Ms. McElroy immediately disagreed. "Long before anyone knew about his ''brilliant'' medical knowledge, PJ stood out on his own," the woman affirmed with strange affection.

    "Yes, PJ is the image of the ideal student," Ms. Ingram affirmed. "Intelligent and hardworking, he currently has perfect grades. He''s at the top of my class," she continued proudly.

    "And even though his knowledge may surpass many of his classmates and possibly us at times, he doesn''t rub it in your face," Mr. Givens affirmed with strange resentment.

    "He''s also a great athlete," Coach Cooper, not wanting to be left behind, affirmed. "He''s the quarterback of the team. Without him, we probably wouldn''t have won many of the games this season."

    "Good grades and star athlete, sounds like a combination enough for a teenager to get lost in himself," I said while writing more notes, studying the faces of those present. I had already met enough people, and none had said anything bad about the boy, not even the smallest thing.

    "Oh yes, that would be a dangerous combination for any teenager, but PJ is different," Professor Givens said, amused, while shaking his head.

    "Yes, PJ is a great person. During class, he makes our work much easier," affirmed Ms. MacElroy.

    "So easy," agreed Ms. Ingram, "he finishes his work so quickly that he has time to do anything else, but instead, he helps his classmates, not just his friends, anyone who needs it."

    "He''s an excellent captain, he''s like a third coach when things go wrong in games, always knowing what to say to encourage his teammates," Coach Cooper said proudly.

    "So, he must be quite popular among his peers," I said, concentrating on writing notes, immediately hearing amused snorts from the teachers.

    "Mr. Wallace, something the students don''t realize is that we can usually hear most of what is said in the hallways," Ms. MacElroy said, "PJ is undoubtedly the most popular boy in school; there isn¡¯t a month that goes by without the hallways being full of whispers about him," she continued, amused.

    "One of the latest was his breakup with Regina George," Ms. Ingram said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "There must be a limited number of girls I haven''t heard talking about their plans regarding it," she continued, snorting.

    "Sadly for them, PJ quickly got attached to the Stratford girl," Ms. MacElroy affirmed, amused, "another brilliant student, she always has opinions in class," she continued.

    The teachers continued talking for several more minutes about their impressions of the boy in their classes and outside of them. In general, PJ Duncan continued to be nothing less than what his parents had painted him to be.

    With a much fuller notebook of information for the article, I returned home for the day.

    I had one more place to visit before I could start the article: the hospital.

    I knew it was the same hospital where the rescue helicopter had taken us, a surprisingly modern hospital to be on the outskirts of a small town like Medford.

    The dean of medicine didn''t have any openings in her schedule for an interview until the next day, so I had time to organize the notes I already had.

    Two days later, in my reliable car, I drove back along the road I had taken several times in the previous days to the Medford Teaching Hospital.

    "David, glad to see you. How are your wife and baby?" Dr. Cuddy, the dean of medicine at the hospital, asked while offering me a seat in front of her desk.

    "They are very well, thank you. I didn''t know you knew about my wife," I said, puzzled, while taking out my small notebook.

    "I am the dean of medicine; it''s my job to know," she said with a professional smile, clasping her hands on the desk. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

    "I''m writing an article," I said, studying the gleam in her eyes.

    "It must be about PJ," she said with a big smile, surprising me before I could continue. "If I remember correctly, he was the one who helped your wife and baby in the accident, right?" she said, surprising me again.

    "I didn''t know PJ had mentioned it," I said, noting that detail. Apparently, the boy had talked about it with someone other than his family.

    "It was by mistake. We received the news, and when I called him, he thought it was about how he had helped your family," she clarified as if she could read my thoughts, making me cross out a small note I had taken about the boy.

    "News?" I asked, trying not to show my surprise.

    "You don''t know?" it was her turn to be surprised. Seeing the lack of knowledge on my face, she stood up and walked to a wall where she had various recognitions hanging.

    "I don''t know if you know it, but JAMA is one of the best medical journals," she said, handing me what seemed like a complicated medical article. "As far as I know, that article is on the short list for the Nobel Prize," she affirmed, smiling strangely.

    I didn''t understand much of what was written in the scientific article until Dr. Cuddy pointed to the acknowledgments at the end.

    "It''s unheard of," she affirmed. "Never before has someone his age, without previous higher education, achieved something similar."

    Now I remembered Bob mentioning something about an award; apparently, the couple had completely forgotten to mention it. This was much bigger.

    "This hospital is quite grateful to PJ for this. Just being mentioned in an article like this means a lot to any hospital," Dr. Cuddy affirmed, taking the frame from my hands before rehanging it on the wall.

    "What kind of contribution did he have to make to be mentioned in the acknowledgments?" I asked, still surprised by what she had just revealed.

    "Oh, it had to be something significant. Given the relatively short time he had contact with Dr. Thomas, it''s likely something related to the end of the article," Dr. Cuddy explained.

    "Contact with Dr. Thomas, was it provided by the hospital?" I asked.

    "You could say that, yes," she said immediately with a professional smile.

    "Okay," I said, suspicious. "Could you tell me how a hospital decides to allow a teenager access to its facilities? I understand it had something to do with Dr. House," I continued, reading my past notes.

    The professional smile Dr. Cuddy maintained was lost for a second, quickly managing her expression as she nodded.

    "Sure, PJ had a conversation with House one day, demonstrating he was a brilliant young man. So, with my permission and under certain conditions, PJ was allowed to come to the hospital to accompany Dr. House''s team and learn from their work," she calmly said.

    "Then, what kind of work does Dr. House and his team do? I understand he is a ''diagnostician''?" I asked, reading again from my notes.

    "Yes, Dr. House specializes in cases that are, in short, difficult," Dr. Cuddy began to explain. "Dr. House has a great talent for diagnosing patients, so we allowed him the first diagnostic department in the country. Many people from other cities come here for Dr. House to work on their case."

    "And where does PJ fit into all this?" I asked, interested.

    "PJ shares House''s ability to diagnose people, so they basically brainstorm while the other team members try to provide reasons why the diagnoses are incorrect. His team could tell you more about it," she assured.

    "Very well, besides ''working'' on House''s diagnostic team, does PJ do anything else in the hospital? Does he deal with patients?" I asked.

    "When appropriate, PJ accompanies House in his clinic work to observe how the doctor works," she admitted with a strange forced smile.

    "I also wondered, PJ mentioned to me that he had access to the hospital library. Is he allowed much more beyond that?" I continued with my questions.

    "Yes, the hospital offers him access to almost everything he needs to continue his prior education. PJ spends most of his free time in the hospital in any of the skills labs, he has plenty of material to practice whatever he needs," she said, much more excited to leave a good impression of the hospital.

    "How would you describe PJ Duncan?" seeing that Dr. Cuddy really wouldn''t have many more answers, I asked.

    "I''d say he''s astute, pleasant, and has an innate talent for medicine. I''m excited to see what the future holds for him," she said with a small smile.

    "Thank you," I said while writing down her words. "I was wondering if I could have a conversation with Dr. House and his team," I said, noticing how Dr. Cuddy''s smile soured for a second.

    "Yes," after a few moments of silence, Dr. Cuddy finally responded, "I''ll take you to the diagnostic department," she said, guiding me out of the office.

    As we walked through the hospital corridors, she talked to me about the wings we passed and the renovations they had done over the years, as well as the achievements the department heads had accomplished, obviously seeking another story for her hospital.

    "We''re here," she said in front of an office with glass walls, with Dr. House''s name written on the glass door. We entered, and I followed her.

    Inside the office, like a d¨¦j¨¤ vu, three other people were sitting around a table, each doing their own thing, between writing on a pile of papers and reading books.

    "These are Drs. Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. This is David Wallace, and he''s here to ask some questions for a newspaper article," Dr. Cuddy said, making our presence known to the distracted doctors while introducing each doctor by name.

    "A pleasure," Dr. Cameron, the first to come out of the surprise of seeing her boss and a complete stranger, was the first to greet me.

    Dr. Foreman, a black man, slightly nodded in a silent greeting.

    "An article?" the last of the doctors, Dr. Chase, asked with a friendly smile. "We haven''t had interesting cases lately, the last one was the babies, but that was a couple of weeks ago, right?" he asked his colleagues, who nodded.

    "Actually, I''m writing about PJ Duncan," I clarified, immediately seeing the doctors'' reactions. Dr. Foreman seemed, for some reason, immediately disinterested in the topic, rolling his eyes and returning to his reading, while Dr. Chase and Dr. Cameron shared a few seconds of surprise before Dr. Cameron, disappointed, pulled a bill out of her pocket and handed it to the other doctor, who took it.

    "We knew it would happen at some point. I bet it would be within this year; Cameron thought he would have to attract the attention of someone really important or study with House a bit longer for it to happen," Dr. Chase said, amused.

    "That was before his name appeared in an article that might win a Nobel Prize," Dr. Cameron said, defeated.

    "Or that he saved the life of the son of the person writing the articles," I joked, seeing how my words surprised the three doctors for the second time.

    "Wait a moment, David Wallace," apparently having heard my name before, Dr. Chase said, laughing. "So it was PJ, that''s why House was bothering him so much," he continued, amused.

    "Did he really help with a premature birth in the middle of a storm?" Dr. Foreman asked incredulously, frowning as he leaned back in his chair.

    "As far as I can remember, yes," I replied, "and I was there. He was even prepared to perform an emergency C-section," I continued, still incredulous at my own words.

    Snorting while shaking his head, Dr. Foreman continued his reading.

    "That sounds like PJ," Dr. Chase said, amused.

    "Yeah," Dr. Cameron said, ironically, while nodding.

    "David is here to ask some questions about PJ and his role here. I''ll go find Dr. House, I''ll leave you for a moment," behind me, Dr. Cuddy suddenly said, cutting the doctors'' interesting conversation before leaving.

    "So, what do you need to know about PJ?" Dr. Chase asked with a kind smile.

    "What do you think about him?" I asked.

    "At first, it was strange," Dr. Chase was the first to respond, "he was a teenager who suddenly arrived and helped with differential diagnoses."

    "I was the first to meet him," Dr. Cameron said, "after Dr. House, of course," she clarified. "Dr. House brought him to a patient''s family, and PJ easily diagnosed a Myoclonic Jerk and explained it immediately. It was surprising; I hadn''t seen it until PJ said it."

    "Is it normal for PJ to approach the patient''s family?" I asked, surprised.

    "Oh no, it''s just something House did very few times. PJ doesn''t have direct contact with patients or their families, only when he has to learn something, like seeing us deliver bad news or things like that," Dr. Chase said.

    "So, having PJ here is like being in medical school much earlier?" continuing with my notes, I asked again.

    "In a way, yes," Dr. Cameron said, nodding.

    "Actually, PJ has knowledge and skills that would easily place him in the later years of medical school, even the first years of a doctor''s residency. I''ve seen how he does sutures, and I doubt I could do it better than him in some cases," Dr. Chase added, ironically.

    "He spends hundreds of hours a week in the hospital library; he''s just building his career. With what he''s achieved in this short time, he has guaranteed entry into any medical school, and when the time comes for his residency, any hospital will be more than happy to have him," Dr. Cameron continued.

    "Yes, I can''t even imagine the moment he has to do his fellowship, the number of gifts he''ll receive to choose the hospital he''ll go to," Dr. Chase said, laughing, amused.

    "I''m sorry, Dr. Foreman, I haven''t heard your opinion of PJ," I said, looking at the only other doctor in the office who hadn''t spoken the entire time.

    Dr. Foreman, who was reading completely focused, took a few seconds to respond, "He has a great talent for medicine," he admitted dryly before returning to his reading.

    Perplexed by the doctor''s behavior when talking about PJ, I continued with my notes; there was possibly something here. "Aside from medical knowledge and skills, does PJ have any issues with his attitude?" I asked, studying the doctors'' reactions. Dr. Cameron immediately smiled and shook her head, while Dr. Chase and Foreman both sighed with different tones.

    "PJ is like a mini House," Chase explained. "He observes everything; it''s like always being under someone''s scrutiny," he continued, noticing my confusion.

    "PJ is kind and funny; I can''t see anyone disliking him," Dr. Cameron remarked, glancing at Dr. Foreman significantly.

    "All the hospital nurses adore him," Dr. Chase added with a smile. "They always ask about him."

    "His mother is a nurse, do you think that''s the reason?" I asked.

    "I don''t think so. I''ve seen him talking to the janitor, the library attendant, volunteers¡ªalmost everyone. They seem like friends," Dr. Cameron quickly added.

    "We''re here!" suddenly, from the office entrance behind me, Dr. Cuddy''s voice cheerfully announced.

    Turning, I found Dr. Cuddy accompanied by a well-groomed man in a hospital gown¡ªthe infamous Dr. House, as I read on his gown.

    "You must be David Wallace. Dr. Cuddy told me about you. Pleasure to meet you, Gregory House," Dr. House said with a friendly smile, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

    "Pleasure. I''ve heard a lot about you, Dr. House," I greeted the friendly man. "I was just talking with your team about PJ," I continued, turning to the other doctors, pausing for a moment as I noticed their puzzled expressions, which immediately changed¡ªstrange.

    "Ah, PJ, my protege!" strangely excited, Dr. House exclaimed with a broad smile. "Tell me, what can I tell you about my fabulous apprentice, of whom I, Dr. House, am utterly proud?" he said, still maintaining a playful smile.

    "I just want to know your thoughts on PJ," I said, amused by the man''s excitement to talk about the boy.

    "Of course, follow me to my office," Dr. House said cheerfully, walking briskly to a room separate from the main office.

    Inside the room, there was a bookshelf filled with books and a desk where Dr. House cheerfully took a seat, offering me one of the vacant chairs in front of him.

    "What do I think about PJ?" Folding his hands on his desk, the cheerful doctor said thoughtfully, "I see myself in PJ. He''s a medical prodigy, and it makes me proud to be the one giving him his introduction to medicine."

    Dr. House seemed like a very kind person, entirely in line with what Amy Duncan had said about him.

    "What do you think his future holds?" I wrote down what the man had said and asked.

    "I think PJ will achieve remarkable things. The other day, upon hearing the news that PJ was acknowledged in an article as important as Dr. Thomas''s, some tears escaped my eyes, thinking that I could help him reach that," Dr. House said, nodding slightly.

    After that, Dr. House briefly recounted the cases he had worked on with the teenager and how he was an essential part of his team.

    "Would you like to add a few more words for the article?" I asked, feeling I had more than enough to start writing.

    "Of course, I, Gregory House, not only see in PJ Duncan an image of my younger self or an apprentice, but I see a son whom I respect and even admire. I''m proud of him," the man said, smiling broadly.

    "Perfect." Finishing writing down what the doctor said, I stood up next to the man, shaking his hand once again before returning to where everyone else was.

    "The article may take another week to be published. I''d like everything to be kept secret, to work as a surprise for PJ," I said, thanking the doctors in the office.

    "Of course," Dr. Cameron immediately said with a big smile, while the other doctors simply nodded.

    "It won''t just be a surprise for PJ," Dr. House amusingly ominously remarked, making the other three doctors nod in amusement.

    "I''ll let you all continue with your work." Bidding farewell to the people present, I said as Dr. Cuddy accompanied me through the hallways toward the exit.

    "We''ll all be looking forward to reading the article. PJ deserves it," the doctor said with a smile as we reached one of the hospital doors.

    "I hope to meet everyone''s expectations. I have to start writing," I said, shaking the woman''s hand once again.

    "Excuse me, am I interrupting something?" sarcastically asked a voice from the hospital door, causing Dr. Cuddy''s hand to tighten for a moment.

    "Not at all, come in," the doctor gently guided me slightly out of the way, signaling the man to enter the hospital.

    "That''s a great shirt," passing by us, focusing on Dr. Cuddy, the strange man walking with a cane said dryly.

    As the man walked into the hospital, disappearing down the hallway, I looked at Dr. Cuddy, who had a furrowed brow upon seeing the man. "Do you know him?" I asked.

    "He''s just Dr. Wilson, our oncologist," the woman said, forcing a smile.

    Back home, I began to write the article. I wanted it to be perfect; I had more than enough information and opinions from others to write a comprehensive piece about PJ and his achievements.

    As the days went by, the following week arrived. I had a significant section in the article specifically reserved for when the Nobel Prize winners would be announced, which according to the hospital doctors, would be on December 10th.

    The day after the award ceremony, since the awards were given in the early hours, I found out that the article where PJ had given his support had won, giving me much more to write about.

    The next day, I had enough to send it along with a photograph that the Duncans had provided to the editor and wait for it to be published on Saturday.

    On Friday night, as I reread my work one last time, completely satisfied with what I had written, all I could do was save it again and hope that PJ would enjoy my gift.

    Turning off the lights in my study suddenly, from my son''s nursery, the baby''s crying began.

    Taking the small and fragile creature in my arms, gently rocking and stroking his little face, I could only be grateful once again to the teenager who had saved his life. "Sleep tight, little PJ," with a soft kiss on my son''s forehead, once he stopped crying, I returned him to his crib.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    I have to admit that I didn''t quite like this chapter. With my schedule packed with school and the novelty of starting a job search, I didn''t really have the time to fully develop some of the opinions about the MC as I would have liked.

    I also feel like I missed out on the opinions of PJ''s teenage friends, siblings, etc.

    But I would like to know your thoughts on the chapter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 56

    Every day I see how the story grows on all the websites, which makes me feel very good. Every week, the story reaches hundreds of people across all the sites, allowing me to interact with dozens of people who leave their comments.

    As I write this,

    On WebNovel, there are 99 reviews, with 1,355 major fans, and 129 people have given a heart to my profile.

    On Scribblehub, there are 101 readers, 2 reviews, 543 favorites, and 4 people follow my profile.

    On RoyalRoad, there are 99 followers, 38 favorites, 19 ratings, and 3 reviews.

    On Fanfiction, there are 51 favorites, 43 followers, and 7 reviews.

    On Archive of Our Own, there are 365 kudos, 77 bookmarks, and more than 11k hits.

    And finally, on Wattpad, there are 7 followers and the story has 148 stars.

    On average, this gives more than a hundred active readers.

    I just want to say, truly, thank you all for reading this nonsense that I write.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "What did you think?" Mom asked with a big smile on her face, still holding the disposable camera in her hands.

    "It''s..." I said, pausing, unable to find the words.

    "Beautiful? Perfect? Amazing?" Mom asked excitedly, taking another picture.

    "Unexpected," I replied carefully, placing the framed article back on the table.

    "It was a surprise that David wanted to do. Your mom and I thought it was a good idea," Bob admitted with a proud smile on his face. "You don''t like it?" he asked, his smile fading for a moment.

    "Don''t be silly, Bob. How could he not like it?" Mom asked, snorting. "You loved it, right?" She asked me, much more serious than she had been all night.

    "Yeah," I replied after a few seconds, not really sure how I felt about it. "It''s just that it caught me by surprise," I continued, smiling slightly.

    "Oh PJ," Mom said excitedly, taking my head in a hug. "You completely deserve it. You have worked harder than anyone on your dream."

    "It''s the first of many articles that will be written about you, I''m sure," Bob added proudly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    "The final words from Dr. House were beautiful, don''t you think?" Mom asked, carefully holding the framed article, looking at the newspaper with affection. "I didn''t know the man held you in such high regard. I have to thank him."

    "A bit superfluous in my opinion," Sheldon said jealously from his seat.

    "Young man," Mrs. Cooper reprimanded her son, widening her eyes in annoyance, making him immediately fall silent.

    "Yes, they were very kind words," I responded, ignoring the boy. It was impossible that House had said something like that unless Dr. Cuddy promised him something incredible.

    Georgie, next to me, let out a weak laugh. "Everyone will be talking about you at school tomorrow, again," my ''friend'' said amused.

    "Yeah," I replied with a growing headache.

    "I think it''s awesome, now you''re famous. Maybe you''ll appear on television someday," Missy, sitting between Teddy and Gabe, said in amazement.

    "That would be perfect. I can''t wait," Mom said dreamily as if it were already a fact, carefully hugging the framed newspaper.

    The ''party,'' where only the Coopers were invited, didn''t last much longer. For the rest of the night, after answering some questions about the article and giving a brief summary of its importance in the medical world, each group started their own conversation.

    I could notice that while Teddy and Missy were talking excitedly about whatever they were discussing, Gabe, who was sitting with Sheldon reading comic books, constantly glanced at Missy, possibly involuntarily.

    When the Coopers returned to their own house at the end of the night, now completely exhausted, I decided that the joke of giving gifts to my siblings had lasted long enough.

    "Amazing!" Gabe exclaimed excitedly, quickly opening the small box and taking out his portable console and some games, ignoring everyone while playing on the living room couch.

    "This is beautiful, thanks, PJ," Teddy said, looking at all the clothes I had bought her. For the first time since she arrived home, she gave me a big hug.

    "No problem, Teddy Bear," I said, returning the hug to my sister, with the article now hanging on one of the walls in the house in my central point of view.

    "You didn''t have to get us gifts, son. It''s your money," Bob said gratefully, holding his new wallet.

    "Yeah, you didn''t have to do that," Mom said, looking at the earrings in her ears with a big smile, obviously not really meaning it.

    "Nonsense, the gifts weren''t very expensive anyway," I said, half-lying to avoid making Bob, especially, feel bad about receiving the gifts.

    While Teddy and Gabe continued inspecting their gifts in detail, Mom and Bob started cleaning up the remnants of the party.

    "Do you need help with anything else, Mom?" I asked, bringing more dirty dishes into the kitchen.

    "Oh no, you must be very tired. Go get ready for bed," Mom said with a loving smile, insistently shooing me out of the kitchen.

    "All right then," I said, leaving what I had in my hands. "Thank you very much for the party, Mom, really," I continued, truly grateful before leaving the kitchen.

    The hot water in the shower reminded me of all the exhaustion in my body. After finishing my nighttime routine and dressing in pajamas, I was completely ready for bed.

    "PJ?" Gabe asked weakly from his own bed, holding his new console.

    "Yeah," I replied, forcing my eyes open in the dimly lit room.

    "Do you think I''ll ever be in the newspaper someday?" my brother asked, with a hint of nerves in his voice.

    "Why?" I asked, worried that the whole party and all of Mom and Bob''s words had affected Gabe and Teddy without me realizing it.

    "Just because," Gabe replied after a few seconds of silence.

    "Then answer me this: do you want to be in the newspaper?" I asked, lifting my head a bit to see the little boy on the other side of the room.

    "Yes, I think so," Gabe replied, staring at the ceiling, with the small console resting on his body.

    "Then I don''t see why you can''t appear in the newspaper someday," I said, returning to my comfortable pillow. "You have much more talent than I do in other things, Gabe. For example, the guitar," I argued. "As long as you keep working hard like you do now, I bet my car that someday you''ll be much more famous than me," I assured him.

    "Do you really think so?" my little brother asked in almost a whisper.

    "Yes, but don''t worry about it right now. You''re only eight," I joked. "For now, you just need to focus on enjoying your childhood."

    "You know I''m ten," Gabe muttered, annoyed but obviously amused.

    "Really?" I asked exaggeratedly, "you''re already an old man, you need to start looking for a girlfriend," I joked.

    "Don''t be gross," Gabe immediately responded, throwing one of his pillows at me.

    "Gross?" I asked, amused, throwing the pillow back. "You didn''t seem so grossed out with Missy earlier," I insinuated exaggeratedly.

    "Missy is my friend," Gabe immediately denied my insinuation. "I''m going to sleep. Don''t be gross," he quickly said, not intending to dwell on the topic, turning off his console and turning his body away from me in silence.

    Amused, I allowed my body to relax once more, quickly falling asleep.

    The next day, after my entire morning routine, when I grabbed the keys to ''Debbie,'' I once again saw the framed article hanging on one of the house walls.

    "Maybe not many people have seen it," I murmured to myself with some hope, despite knowing it was empty hope.

    When I parked my car in the school lot, almost immediately, and before I could even get out of the car, I noticed once again how people''s attention was drawn to me. I could feel a headache starting again.

    Trying to ignore the dozens of teenagers shamelessly murmuring about me, I quickly walked to my locker.

    "Why didn''t you tell me about this, idiot?" While I was looking in my locker for my things for the day, I suddenly felt a hit on the back of my head with what seemed to be sheets of paper.

    "Ah," I exclaimed, pretending to be hurt, as I discovered who it was. "Kat, I didn''t know until I got back yesterday," I explained, pointing to the weapon the girl had used¡ªa newspaper with my face on it.

    "Not that, you won a Nobel Prize," Kat exclaimed, pointing to the newspaper she was holding, attracting even more attention from people around us.

    "I didn''t win a Nobel Prize. Dr. Thomas and Dr. Murray won it; I just helped a little," I clarified quickly, raising my voice a bit so others could hear too. The last thing I needed was for everyone to think I had won a Nobel.

    "Besides, I knew you were going to study at the hospital with some doctor. Dad said so, but you''re ''an essential part of Dr. House''s diagnostic team''?" Kat incredulously asked, hitting the newspaper in her hand again while reading one of the lines from the article.

    "It''s not much. I just read a lot of medical books and give some ideas," I explained quickly, again trying to mitigate the rumors that would circulate in the school during these days.

    "And saving the life of a newborn baby and his mother, that''s also an exaggeration?" Kat asked, increasingly agitated for some strange reason.

    "I learned the theory for helping in a delivery a while ago," I explained again.

    "So it''s true," Kat said, strangely defeated. "That''s why Dad wanted you to come to dinner," she murmured slowly, crumpling the newspaper in her hands while nodding. "Congratulations on the article," she continued before turning and walking away slowly.

    "Kat," I said, puzzled by my friend''s behavior, trying to stop her.

    "SuperStar, or should I say Hero," Brock exclaimed cheerfully, hugging my shoulder before I could approach Kat. "My dad was very surprised when the newspaper arrived and found out the local hero was the one who bought ''Debbie,'' and my mom was very happy that you were my friend," my robust friend said, squeezing my shoulders while laughing.

    "I''m glad the article was useful for you," I said, playfully pushing my friend to separate myself from his embrace.

    "You have no idea. Whenever I go with you now, I can go anywhere I want," Brock said, doing a little dance.

    "Me too. Mom didn''t believe you were my friend," David said, arriving from the main hallway of the school. "She told me not to leave your side because you''re a ''good influence,''" my friend said sarcastically.

    "What do you mean by that? Of course, I''m a good influence on you hooligans," I said, pretending to be offended, hitting my friend''s shoulder.

    "My mom said the same thing. She adores you. She thinks if I stick close enough to you, some of your ''genius'' might rub off on me," Georgie said, arriving at that moment and greeting everyone.

    "I don''t think that will work for you, buddy," Brock said, patting Georgie''s shoulder sympathetically.

    "You''re not funny," Georgie said, annoyed, pushing Brock''s hand off his shoulder while Brock laughed.

    "How are you dealing with the attention?" Alan asked suddenly from my side, surprising me once again out of countless times.

    "One of these days, I''m going to surprise you," I said, annoyed, trying to lightly push my friend on the shoulder, failing spectacularly as Alan moved his body, avoiding my arm.

    "You can try," my calm friend insinuated, smiling slightly.

    "Are you okay?" I asked, ignoring his joke. Looking closely at Alan, he had deep circles under his eyes and was a bit pale. He looked tired.

    "Yeah, don''t worry, ''medical prodigy,''" Alan said, avoiding my gaze, walking towards his locker.

    The day continued along with my headache. The attention directed at me didn''t cease, not even in the classroom. Fortunately, unlike last time, I hadn''t heard wildly exaggerated stories about the article. At least with it being written and accessible to everyone, there wasn''t much room to add or change things.

    At the end of school, I couldn''t leave the grounds faster without breaking some law.

    My headache drastically reduced while driving, feeling the wind on my face and listening to the music I had chosen weeks ago. The drive passed quickly.

    "Congratulations, Dr. Duncan," upon entering the door I always used at the hospital, Mom''s fellow nurses were waiting to surprise me with the nickname they had already chosen for me.

    Once again, a growing headache attacked me.

    After thanking all the nurses I encountered, even some residents who apparently wanted to meet me, I managed to head towards House''s office, not without greeting and thanking the congratulations of everyone I met.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "Dr. Wilson?" Upon entering House''s office, the first doctor I encountered was surprisingly Dr. Wilson at the lounge table in the Diagnostic Department, with a lot of papers and various files. He looked obviously stressed.

    "Ah PJ, congratulations on the article," the man said, smiling.

    "Thank you very much," I replied to the kind man. "What are you doing here?" I asked, puzzled, pointing to all the papers on the table.

    "His office mysteriously flooded with sewage," on the other side of the room, with the same newspaper open covering his face, Dr. House said dryly. "They have to replace the carpet, the walls, and possibly all the furniture."

    "Yes, ''mysteriously,''" Dr. Wilson said, pressing his lips in annoyance.

    "''I don''t just see PJ Duncan as an image of my younger self or an apprentice. I see him as a son whom I respect and even admire. I''m proud of him,''" ignoring Dr. Wilson, House read with disgust, closing the newspaper with a snap.

    "Beautiful words," Dr. Wilson said with a big smile while filling out documents on the table.

    "Too cheesy for anyone with balls," House affirmed with disdain, leaving the article on the table.

    "I liked it, thank you very much for your words, Dr. House. I didn''t know you held me in such high esteem," I said immediately, seizing the strange opportunity to tease the man.

    "You know me, kid, I''m a sentimental," dripping each word with sarcasm, House said as he stood up and walked slowly towards me.

    "Well, I appreciate your words," I said nervously. He was obviously planning something; his attitude and the expression on his face were clear. "If you''ll excuse me, I''m going to the skills lab. I need to practice a new suture," I continued, placing my backpack in its usual place.

    "Oh no, no," House slowly shook his head, holding my shoulder. "You and I have work to do," he continued, grinning sinisterly.

    "Is there a new case?" I asked.

    "No, it''s been a while since we''ve gone to the clinic, you and I, ''son.'' I think it''s a great opportunity to continue your medical education," patting my shoulder a couple of times, he continued before leaving the office.

    "Be strong, PJ," Dr. Wilson said, smiling sadly while clenching his fist.

    Outside the office, following House towards the hospital clinic, "Impressive article, right?" House asked with an arrogant smile on his face. "So impressive that obviously quite a few people read it," he continued.

    "Where are you going with this?" I asked, intrigued.

    "What do you think happens when a bunch of people read that there''s a ''medical prodigy'' who can be found every week in a free clinic saving the lives of anyone who needs it?" House asked, smiling wickedly.

    House somehow timed his words perfectly, because just as he finished his question, we arrived at the clinic doors, which were open and filled with people. Nurse Fryday, who usually worked with another nurse at the clinic reception, was there with five other nurses, frantically admitting people.

    "Let''s see, the average consultation takes about eight minutes if you do it quickly, so if my calculations are correct, you should be done by the end of the week," the man said, amused. "Look everyone, it''s PJ Duncan, the prodigy," House shouted sinisterly before I could stop him, drawing the attention of everyone in the clinic.

    House, much faster than a man with a cane should be able to move, quickly dodged the small crowd of people approaching me.

    Everyone who came up to me started talking simultaneously, asking questions, introducing themselves excitedly, some describing symptoms, and even a few accusing me of being a fraud. Almost cornering me against a desk, people were talking over each other, raising their voices to the point of shouting.

    "Silence!" Inside the clinic, with an incredibly powerful shout, the usually sweet older woman, Nurse Fryday, silenced everyone. "Dr. House and PJ will see you in order. If you do this again, I will call the police," she threatened, moving the small crowd. The woman reached me and, grabbing my arm, dragged me inside the clinic to the office that House always used.

    "By the way, congratulations, PJ. I read the article; it was beautiful," the nurse said before closing the door.

    "That was terrifying," somehow already inside the office, sitting with his feet up on another chair, House said falsely, holding an open magazine.

    "That was unnecessary," I said angrily, walking to the bed inside the office.

    "On the contrary, I found it very necessary," House countered sarcastically, amused.

    "I don''t understand why you''re punishing me," I said, rubbing my eyes in frustration.

    "Oh, this is not a punishment, kid," closing his magazine with fake surprise, House said. "It''s just a way to prevent ''fame'' from going to your head. That''s how lousy doctors are made, and remember, I am your mentor," theatrically continuing with a hand on his chest.

    Before I could say anything else, the office door was knocked on and then opened a second later by Nurse Fryday again, with a man behind her.

    "PJ Duncan, I read about you in the newspaper," the man, about forty years old and overweight, obviously excited, quickly entered, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

    "Here you go," handing me a chart, Nurse Fryday said with a forced smile, glancing sideways at the excited man.

    "Thanks," I said uncomfortably, trying to pull my hand away from the other man as the nurse left the room.

    Finally getting my hand back, I gestured for the man to sit on the bed in the center of the office and moved slightly towards House.

    House, ignoring the patient in the room, was completely focused on his magazine. "Here," I said, stretching out my hand with the chart, trying to get House''s attention.

    "Oh no," after looking at the papers for a second, the man responded. "You can handle this, and obviously, he came just for you," House continued, pointing to the inexplicably excited patient.

    It was true; since he entered the room, the patient hadn''t taken his eyes off me, smiling broadly.

    Seeing the man''s odd smile, I sighed, resigning myself to the situation. "What brings you here today, Mr. Robert?" I asked, reading the name and other details on the chart.

    "Oh, yes, cough cough," apparently remembering where he was, the man said in surprise while obviously faking a cough. "I have this strange cough that started a few days ago," completely changing his expression, he added. "Is everything in the newspaper true?" he asked, seemingly forgetting about his ''illness.''

    This was going to be a very long day.

    Like that patient, many others came just to talk to me or see me up close. Many others only came to ask questions, incredulous of the words in the newspaper, and very few came for an actual medical consultation, all type one patients.

    After seeing dozens of patients, our shift finally ended. House, who had done nothing but read magazines and play with his video game console the entire time we were in the office, was the first to notice the time.

    House stood up, stretching his arms, closing his eyes with a big smile as he let out a long, contented sigh. "Sitting all day is bad for your back; I''m exhausted," the man explained sarcastically, smiling.

    "I''m glad you can finally get some rest," I responded to him as sarcastically as possible before leaving the office.

    "Oh come on, kid, you have to admit it was fun," House said, following me out of the office.

    "Oh yes, I love being treated like an exotic animal in the zoo," I responded sarcastically to the usually bitter man while handing over the chart of the last patient, an elderly woman who was clearly only interested in meeting me.

    "Don''t be ridiculous," House exclaimed as we walked towards the diagnostic lounge. "At the zoo, people don''t make sexual advances on the animals," he declared with an arrogant smile. "At least not so openly," he added with irony.

    Ignoring the doctor''s jokes, I continued walking, feeling chills down my spine. I hoped the joke was just another of House''s strange inventions. Unfortunately, for some reason, many older women came to the office with obvious intentions, no younger than Dottie or Meemaw.

    In the diagnostic lounge, the other three doctors who should be there were now sharing a table with the still-stressed Dr. Wilson.

    "Look who''s here," Chase exclaimed, standing up with a big smile. "The prodigy of the moment," he added mockingly as he approached me. "Congratulations on your appearance in the newspaper."

    "Thanks," I said forcedly, feeling another pang in what had been a headache all day, ignoring Chase''s wide smile.

    "Don''t bother him, I''m sure he''s had a tough day," Cameron said as she passed by her colleague. "I passed by the clinic a few hours ago," she explained sympathetically. "Congratulations on the article, by the way. It''s the least a prodigy like you deserves," she added with an immediate smile.

    Yes, I couldn''t wait for the newspaper article to be old news.

    After saying goodbye to everyone, including those I met in the hospital corridors, I headed towards Case; I needed to hit something.

    Changing into my training clothes in Case''s lot, I walked, stretching my arms.

    Tim, who usually arrived a few minutes before me, was already warming up in front of Case, who was oddly sitting in a small garden chair, watching my muscular friend.

    "PJ," Tim greeted me cheerfully, stopping his warm-up.

    "Ah," Case said, looking at me for a few seconds with a raised eyebrow, smiling sinisterly. "The prodigy is here," he added, pulling out the cause of my headache from one of the chair''s armrests, pointing to my face printed in black and white.

    "I knew you were smart, but not that much," Tim said amusedly from the concrete floor. "I''ve had a pain in this shoulder for a few days, do you think you can fix it?" he added, moving one of his arms slowly with obvious interest.

    Great, they obviously read the article. I felt foolish for hoping they hadn''t read it. I could only close my eyes for a few seconds and sigh, "I can take a look if you really need it," I said, approaching my muscular friend.

    "Really?" Tim asked, surprised.

    "Yes, despite what the article says, I''m not a doctor yet, but I''ve studied a lot," I explained, checking the range of motion in Tim''s shoulder. "It''s probably just a grade one strain. Try not to lift much with this arm, put some ice on it, and if the pain persists by the end of the week, you can go to the hospital for a check-up at the clinic," I said after examining his shoulder.

    "Thanks, man," Tim said, kindly patting my shoulder.

    "No problem. You should also wrap your shoulder to compress it," I said, stretching my arms, preparing to warm up and train.

    "How well do you know anatomy?" Case, who had been silent during Tim''s shoulder examination, suddenly asked, seemingly interested.

    "I''d say pretty well," I replied. After hundreds of hours studying dozens of different anatomy books, I had the subject pretty well mastered. I could probably pass an exam at any moment, though I''d need to study a bit more to ensure a perfect score.

    "Really?" Case asked, raising one of his eyebrows as he stood up. "Go ahead," he said, opening his palms and tilting his head, discreetly asking for proof.

    I just wanted to hit one of the bags, maybe practice some submissions with Tim, even a small sparring session would be fine. "Okay," I said, taking off my shirt, feeling defeated. "Scapula, clavicle, humerus, glenohumeral joint, acromioclavicular, sternoclavicular, deltoids, rotator cuff subscapularis, supraspinatus, infraspinatus, teres minor, biceps brachii, triceps brachii, coracobrachialis, musculocutaneous nerve, radial nerve, obviously the brachial artery," I began describing, pointing to where each structure should be on my own body.

    I was completely focused on the description of each anatomical structure, continuing the anatomical journey down to my hand. "And its blood vessels, the superficial and deep palmar arches, mainly formed by the radial, ulnar arteries, and their branches," I finished, moving my hand.

    Case and Tim shared a look of complete surprise. "Are you some kind of government experiment?" Case asked, snorting.

    "I just read a lot of books," I immediately explained.

    "I read a lot too, and I can''t do that," Tim declared, smiling incredulously.

    "Start warming up, shrimps, bridging, and granby rolls, then drills of sweeps and escapes, passing guard, and guard retention," Case ordered, fortunately for me, cutting off the topic.

    After several minutes of warm-up, Case instructed Tim to do ground and pound drills with one of the bags that Case had obviously made himself.

    "We''re going to take a step further in your training," Case said ominously, with his usual frown in front of me. "How advanced are you with the notebook?" the man asked.

    The notebook was one of the many notebooks Case had made by hand, detailing various submission techniques.

    "I''ve studied many, but I haven''t had the chance to practice them properly," I responded to Case, wiping the sweat that was dripping into my eyes.

    "Good, we''ll focus your training on that for now," Case said, taking a position on the ground. "Let''s start with an armbar," he ordered, gesturing with his hands.

    "Alright, you showed us you know anatomy," Case said with a small smile as we began the drill. "Right now, you have an error in your grip," he continued as we reached what should be the armbar. "I''m pretty sure you know the range of motion a arm should have," he said, surprisingly calm despite supposedly being in an uncomfortable position due to my grip. "From where we are now, how can you cause the most damage?" he asked.

    Holding Case''s arm, I hesitated for a second. During most training sessions, I could imagine the type of traumatic damage we could cause to anyone by applying the techniques, but it had never occurred to me to think about maximizing the damage.

    "Don''t hesitate, you''re not looking to hurt me right now, it''s just training for if you ever need to use it," Case said calmly, seemingly noticing my hesitation. "I''ll be fine," he assured.

    "Alright," I said, pressing my grip and repositioning my hips, always thinking about pressing on the shoulder nerves. I knew exactly where to apply the pressure and how to do it.

    As soon as I began to apply a bit of pressure, Case tapped my leg. "Okay, stop," he exclaimed, making me release his arm immediately.

    Pressing lightly on his shoulder, Case nodded slightly with a strange, excited smile. "Let''s continue."

    And like that, the days passed. At school, each day was filled with more Christmas decorations. I made an active effort to ignore the attention from my classmates.

    At the hospital, which was also filling its halls with small Christmas decorations, as House had predicted, the clinic was still busy. Fortunately, fewer people were coming in each day just to try and meet me, and the cases that did come in were mainly straightforward.

    With Case, as he had said, my training had focused on submission techniques. Each day, it became easier to apply my anatomical knowledge almost naturally to the techniques Case had already shown me.

    Friday marked the start of winter break. With much more free time during the week, my friends made sure to impose plans to fill my calendar.

    The weekend, which I would normally spend doing something with my brothers, I spent with my friends in plans that, given the number of teenagers, seemed normal, at least in Medford: mini-golf, movies, and going to the mall to, according to David, Brock, and Georgie, meet girls. Aside from greetings mainly directed at me, none of us had any interactions with any girls.

    On Tuesday, two days before Christmas, after going to the mall once more with my friends and coming back from a fairly uneventful day at the hospital, a truck I''d never seen was being unloaded of luggage by a guy who seemed a few years older than me, quite robust, outside Meemaw''s house.

    "Good evening," I greeted the guy across the street as I got out of my car, surprising him as he was lowering one of the apparently very heavy suitcases.

    "Oh," he said, letting out a high-pitched squeal and dropping the suitcase he was holding. "Oh, howdy," he greeted respectfully, immediately lowering his arms and changing his attitude and tone of voice upon seeing me.

    "Hi, sorry for scaring you," I said, approaching him and offering my hand for a handshake. "PJ Duncan," I introduced myself as I shook the robust guy''s hand.

    "Cameron Tucker," he said, returning the handshake firmly. "But you can call me Cam," Cam continued with a friendly smile.

    "Are you related to

    Mrs. Tucker?" I asked, remembering how Meemaw had said not long ago that she had invited her family with the betting money.

    "Yes, she''s my aunt Connie," Cam responded, seeming oddly uncomfortable, apparently not knowing how to stand still.

    "Cameron, are you almost done with the luggage? Aunt Connie says it''s almost time for dinner with cousin Mary," a woman, equally robust and surprisingly identical to Cam, came out of the house, speaking in an annoyed tone. "Oh, and who might this be?" she asked, stopping for a moment surprised upon seeing me, with a smile that immediately made me feel in danger.

    "Pam, this is PJ Duncan. PJ, this is my sister Pam, who is twenty years old," Cam said, emphasizing the last part as he introduced us, staring intently at his sister.

    "Nice to meet you, PJ," Pam said, approaching and taking my hand in an oddly sweaty handshake, with the same unsettling smile.

    I don''t like this.

    "Likewise," I replied, discreetly wiping my hand as I took a small step back.

    While the two siblings exchanged strangely competitive looks, I felt increasingly insecure. In a moment of the brief seconds this occurred, Pam somehow lost, walking back to Meemaw''s house, annoyed.

    Cam, who had stayed behind, watched his sister walk all the way inside Meemaw''s house before turning back to me with a smile as if nothing had happened.

    "What were we talking about?" he asked, clasping his hands together below his abdomen.

    "You were unpacking," I quickly said. "I have to get back home," I continued, pointing to my house. "It was a pleasure meeting you," I finished, feeling an increasing need to quickly return home.

    "I hope we meet again sometime," Cam said, somewhat defeated, clapping his hands together loudly now in front of his chest.

    Crossing the street back to my house, I couldn''t shake a strange sensation. Glancing discreetly, I found Cam staring intently as I walked back. Why does he do that?

    "Alan?" I called, paying attention again to my house. Next to my car, apparently out of nowhere as usual, my usually calm friend was standing with a clear bruise on his face.

    "Hey, do you think I could stay at your place for a few days?" Alan asked almost in a whisper, avoiding my gaze.

    "What happened?" I asked, concerned, approaching my friend.

    "My mom left," Alan admitted, seemingly embarrassed. "So, do you think your parents would be okay with me staying for a few days?" he asked again, lifting his face and seriously looking me in the eyes.

    "Of course, come on," I replied confidently after a few seconds, absorbing the information. I wasn''t going to let him go back home.

    "Thanks," Alan said, relaxing his shoulders with relief in his voice.

    "Hey," I said, putting my hand on my usually calm friend''s shoulder. "I got your back, remember?" I asked, smiling slightly.

    "Oh my," Cam exclaimed from across the street in the same high-pitched voice he had used when he first saw me, making both Alan and I turn in surprise.

    Once again holding a suitcase in his hands, completely focused on Alan and me, Cam seemed embarrassed upon noticing our stares, quickly turning and running back into the house with incredible speed.

    "New neighbor?" Alan asked, puzzled.

    "He''s Georgie''s family," I explained.

    "And he''s really gay," Alan affirmed, smiling slightly.

    Oh.

    ---

    **Author Thoughts:**

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    I''ve decided not to write the article for the moment, possibly in some future special chapter like the previous one, as a continuation or something similar.

    There''s really very little, almost nothing, of information about the past of some *Modern Family* characters, and Cameron is one of them. I remember not having watched the series completely (I stopped around when Alex enters university), and I only recall some comments made about Cameron''s family, some by his sister and others by his father.

    I don''t really know much about his adolescence, and I''m not so familiar with his young adulthood either. I know he''s supposed to have studied arts at some point, but I''m not sure if by this point in his life (18 years old) he''s already in university or just leaving high school. I''ll probably think about it for the next chapter, and have a plan for what I''d like to build of his character in the pre-*Modern Family* stage.

    Also, for those who watched the movie *The Accountant*, at some point before Christmas, Alan''s mom (Christian and Braxton''s mom) abandons them. I decided it would be just a few days before Christmas, so this is basically the beginning of Alan and his brothers'' life with only their father.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    PS2: It is possible that this chapter has more errors than usual, I did not have time to completely review the chapter, in fact I am writing this the day before publishing.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 57

    And we''re back!!!

    Thank you all so much for your movie recommendations. Even though I didn''t respond to any of the comments, rest assured that I read each one of them.

    I also discovered why I have to study so hard during exam season. There were very few movies recommended that I hadn''t already seen. I spend more time watching series and movies than studying (procrastination).

    ---

    With Alan behind me, we entered the house, which for several days now, like almost the whole town, had been completely decorated with the Christmas spirit.

    "Dad," as we entered the house, Bob was on the sofa in his usual spot watching television.

    "Hey champ, you''re back," the man said cheerfully, turning around, "oh, you''re Alan, right?" Surprised for a second to see my quiet friend, Bob asked.

    "Yes, good evening, Mr. Duncan," Alan immediately replied, giving a barely visible small smile.

    "Did you get into another fight?" Bob asked, standing up and looking closely at Alan''s bruised face, then searching my face intently.

    "No," I replied, glancing sideways at my friend.

    "It was just a training accident," before I could continue with any explanation, Alan said, just like he did with me so long ago in school.

    "You guys need to be more careful with your training," Bob said with a forced smile, looking again at the bruises on Alan''s face, "well, I''ll leave you. Feel welcome, Alan, this is your home," he continued, turning his attention back to the TV as his program returned from commercials.

    "Speaking of which, Dad, is it okay if Alan stays here for a few days?" I asked.

    "Sure," Bob replied immediately without taking his eyes off the television.

    "Perfect, thanks, Dad," I said, indicating to my quiet friend to follow me as we walked to my room, "I told you so," I said arrogantly, lightly tapping Alan''s shoulder.

    "It''s just for a couple of days until everything calms down," Alan murmured again with a bit of embarrassment.

    "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently as we entered my room, not wanting to force him to talk.

    "Maybe later," Alan said, setting down a backpack he was carrying on the floor of my room.

    "I understand," I said immediately, knowing nothing good would come from being insistent. "Hey, Kiddo," I said, noticing a strange sound coming from the small video game console I had given my brother. I found him lying on his bed playing with the small device.

    "PJ, when did you get back?" Gabe asked, completely surprised, tearing his attention away from the console''s screen.

    "Just now. Have you been playing with this thing all day?" I asked, approaching the child and almost snatching the console from his hands.

    "What time is it?" Gabe asked shamelessly, trying and failing to grab the console back from me.

    "It''s time for you to go touch some grass. Come on," I said, taking him by one leg and lifting him off the bed to place him carefully on the floor.

    "Really?" Gabe asked with frustration, still trying to grab the console I held above my head.

    "Yes, let''s go throw the ball around for a bit. There are three of us; it''ll be fun," I said, hugging his head tightly after throwing the video game console onto my bed, out of his reach.

    "I know counting can be a bit difficult for you, but there are two of us," Gabe said arrogantly, pushing me to free his head from my grasp, "one, two," he continued, pointing at me and then at himself.

    "And Alan," I said slowly, pointing to my incredibly quiet friend.

    "Hello," Alan greeted, raising one of his hands.

    "Ah," Gabe exclaimed almost immediately, hiding behind me, "how long has he been there?" he asked, peeking out from behind my back.

    "I''ve been here the whole time," Alan replied, nodding slightly.

    "That was totally a Batman move," Gabe said, visibly excited, pointing at my friend.

    "Yeah, he''s like a ninja," I agreed, nodding slightly with my brother, "well, let''s go play."

    Gabe quickly grabbed the ball, being the first to go out the door, seemingly eager to play. I could see him walking excitedly towards the street, possibly because he hadn''t spent time like this in a while.

    "I didn''t even ask you if you wanted to play," I said, walking alongside Alan, remembering my lack of consideration.

    "Don''t worry, it sounds fun to throw the ball," my friend replied without changing his expression.

    As we played, throwing the ball to each other, shortly after, from the Cooper house, Georgie with a complicated expression on his face, followed closely by Cam, approached.

    "Alan?" Georgie asked, surprised, seeing our quiet friend.

    "He''s going to spend a few days at my house," I explained while greeting Georgie, "Hey Cam, right?" I greeted the robust boy again.

    "Correct," Cam said, obviously forcing depth into his voice, nodding firmly, "throw me that," he said, preparing his hands in front of his chest.

    "So, Cam, where are you from?" I asked, throwing the ball weakly, fearing he might not catch it from our brief introduction minutes ago.

    "Missouri," Cam responded immediately, showing I was wrong to judge him, catching the ball with obvious ease and throwing it back with much more strength and speed than I had, straight into Alan''s hands, who caught it effortlessly.

    Seeing that everyone in the circle could throw and catch the ball without much effort, apart from Gabe, the game continued for a few more moments in awkward silence. Cam, who had been acting strangely rigid since the start of this new interaction, was the most uncomfortable, swaying on his feet, looking at the others present.

    "How is Missouri?" I asked, seeing no one else planned to continue any conversation, visibly relieving Cam.

    "It''s not much different, apart from the weather. At this time, we would need coats to be outside like this," Cam responded immediately, theatrically spreading his arms before closing them again in embarrassment, "we have the usual tornadoes, and on the farm, we have pigs, cows, and chickens, nothing really interesting," he continued, obviously returning to his exaggerated act.

    "Sounds great," I said, somewhat uncomfortably by the general discomfort around me.

    Alan was always this quiet, Georgie obviously had some degree of reservation with his uncle, and Gabe, being a child, I couldn''t expect him to start a conversation with someone nearly twice his age.

    "Yeah," Cam said, still swaying on his feet and touching the tips of his fingers together when it wasn''t his turn with the ball, drawing out the word.

    I couldn''t stand much more of the uncomfortable silence. Possibly, if Georgie and Cam weren''t so painfully uncomfortable, it would be pleasant. I also couldn''t ignore the guest from Missouri by focusing on a conversation with any of my friends or my brother.

    "So... are you guys on the football team with Georgie here?" Thank goodness, Cam asked, taking the initiative in the conversation, addressing Alan and me.

    "Yes," my quiet friend responded simply, nodding.

    "Alan here is the fullback, and I''m the quarterback," I explained, avoiding letting the conversation die once more, "and what about you? Do you play back home?" I asked, strangely receiving an amused look from Georgie.

    "Yes, in fact, I''m going to play for the University of Illinois as a starting offensive lineman," Cam responded joyfully, causing a change in Georgie''s expression. Apparently, my friend had no idea about that fact.

    "Oh, then you must be really good," I said kindly, causing Cam to smile much more, shedding some of his body''s rigidity.

    "I''ve been part of the varsity team since my sophomore year," Cam admitted, raising his head with false embarrassment, "you guys aren''t bad either; you have a great arm and excellent aim, and you have surprising reflexes," he added, pointing at me and then at Alan, with exaggerated praise.

    "Thanks," I said, throwing the ball once more, "so, the University of Illinois, do you know what you want to study?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

    "Art," Cam responded instinctively, raising his hands slightly with great emotion, making Georgie, who had found something in common with his relative, look at him with a certain degree of disappointment again.

    "That sounds fantastic," I said, smiling at Cam, ignoring my friend''s reaction, "and how does that work? Do you want to make music?" I asked again.

    "Music, sculptures, paintings, but above all, theater," the robust boy said with a big smile, making a small bow, "though my dream has always been to be a clown," he said slowly, studying my reaction.

    "Clown?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yes, I love clowns," Cam said seriously. "I was even thinking about going straight to Clown College."

    For a long moment, I didn''t know how to respond to such a revelation. I had no idea Clown Colleges existed, though it made sense somehow.

    "Sounds quite noble. There are studies indicating that laughter significantly improves people''s health in one way or another," I started to say, but Cam interrupted me, completely excited.

    "I''ll be doing a doctor''s work," Cam declared fancifully, spreading his arms almost perfectly ninety degrees from his body.

    "I was going to say ''helping doctors'' work,'' but yeah," I said, though it seemed Cam wasn''t listening, murmuring things to himself.

    Still in his head, surprisingly maintaining the same arm position, to Gabe and Georgie''s amusement and embarrassment respectively, he began to dance lightly in place.

    "That''s a great argument," Cam said suddenly, snapping out of his reverie and pointing at me, "you know what, I''m going to show you my act. I''ve been working on it; it''s obviously beginner''s work, but I think I do quite well," he continued excitedly, causing Georgie next to him to start coughing aggressively.

    "Maybe one of these days; it''s almost dinner time," I said, trying to be as polite as possible to decline his offer.

    "Yeah, sure," Cam said, also noticing Georgie''s reaction and apparently remembering the situation, he said again, deepening his voice, "and what about you? Planning to study anything?" Fortunately, he asked, keeping the conversation going.

    "Actually, yes, I''m going to study medicine," I replied easily, finding it somewhat amusing how the conversation connected.

    "Uh, that sounds difficult," Cam said, throwing the ball to me with much more force than anyone else on the team, except maybe Brock, seemingly embarrassed. Georgie snorted with amusement, and Alan smiled slightly. "What?" Cam asked, worried that he might be out of an inside joke.

    "PJ is like Sheldon, but not," Georgie replied after thinking for a few seconds.

    "He even appeared in the newspaper," Gabe proudly boasted.

    "PJ the local hero," Alan dictated with a slightly arrogant smile, saying more words than he had in the entire interaction.

    As Cam''s surprise grew, my chronically strange headache also appeared.

    After playing for a few more minutes, Georgie and Cam were called from the Cooper house. Back inside, Alan, Gabe, and I walked to my room to put away the ball.

    "Cam is pretty funny," Gabe said suddenly. "Being a clown, what nonsense," he added, snorting and shaking his head.

    "I don''t understand it either," I said seriously, looking at my brother. "But that doesn''t mean it''s okay to make fun of someone else''s dream," I continued. "If you keep doing that, no one will be honest with you," I warned, throwing a small towel I use to wipe off sweat during practice at Gabe''s face.

    "Yeah, yeah," Gabe said, throwing the towel to the floor in disgust and rolling his eyes in frustration.

    "Mom says dinner is¡ªOh," Teddy, who had opened the door without knocking, said from the doorway of our room before suddenly stopping.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled, looking at my sister. Following her gaze, I saw my quiet friend halfway through putting on a clean shirt.

    "Yeah, no."

    "Thanks," I said seriously, stepping in front of Teddy and locking eyes with her to stop her from trying to look behind me.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Yeah, you''re welcome," Teddy said dazedly, nodding robotically and walking away from the room.

    "Really?" I turned to my friend once my sister was out of sight.

    "It was dirty, sorry," Alan said with his expressionless face, pointing to the shirt he had been wearing previously. I couldn''t tell if he was truly sorry or not.

    "Yeah, it''s not your fault," I said, ignoring the strange feeling the whole interaction caused in me.

    After changing my dirty shirt for a clean one, we went to dinner.

    Mom was completely fine with having Alan in the house, simply surprised to find a guest.

    As every day after dinner, Bob, Gabe, I, and now Alan too, went to the garage to train with some weights. With Case, my training was still focused on submissions, so I generally didn''t train much with strength exercises.

    Alan, who for obvious reasons didn''t find the idea of training entirely pleasant, accompanied us for a few minutes before going back inside to take a bath.

    "Is he okay?" Bob asked worriedly, looking towards the garage door several seconds after my quiet friend went inside.

    "Why do you ask?" I asked, lifting the barbell easily off my chest, concerned.

    "He''s really quiet, isn''t he?" Bob continued, helping me add a few more plates.

    "He''s like Batman," Gabe affirmed, carefully lifting a pair of dumbbells. "You only notice he''s there when he wants to be," my brother continued with a big smile.

    "I think it''s just his personality," I assured Bob, not wanting to reveal Alan''s secret and damage his trust in me. "He doesn''t have a problem being in a conversation, maybe just starting one," I added.

    "Well, you should invite him more often; it''s nice to meet a respectful teenager once in a while," Bob said pretentiously.

    "Oh, poor you," I said exaggeratedly with feigned exasperation.

    "Yes, poor me. Lift that thing; you''ve rested long enough," Bob said, smiling amusedly as he lightly pushed my head, helping me take the barbell off the rack to continue our workout session.

    The next day, early as my biological clock compelled me every day, I woke up. Alan, as last time, wasn''t in what he had claimed as his corner of my room. The blankets and pillows he had used for the night were perfectly arranged and folded to one side of where my friend had slept.

    If it weren''t for his backpack still on the floor of my room, I might think he had left.

    "Didn''t train again?" I asked. As last time Alan was at my house, my friend was sitting on one of the garden chairs, disturbingly quiet, staring at the horizon.

    "No reason to do it, at least not here," my friend responded calmly without seeming the least bit surprised.

    Using an empty chair beside him, I sat with Alan, appreciating the beauty and tranquility of our backyard, listening to the birds sing and the occasional distant dog bark.

    "You have to do something about your dad," I said without hesitation, loud enough for only Alan to hear. "It''s not right; he can''t hurt you under the excuse of training."

    For several seconds, the only response I received from my friend was long sighs. "I know," he finally said. "But right now, he''s all my brothers and I have."

    "That''s not true. I''m sure if you seek help, anyone will help you and your brothers," I argued immediately, shaking my head. "Heck, you could live with us as long as you need. We''d just have to set up the garage for the two of us, and my room could be for Gabe, Braxton, and Christian," I continued. Money wouldn''t be an issue; my investments generated enough monthly income that the expenses of three more people in the house wouldn''t be a problem. I could even buy another house right now.

    Laughing slightly, much more than I''d seen him do in the past few weeks, Alan shook his head. "Of course, you''d offer something like that, ''local hero,''" my friend said teasingly, punching my shoulder playfully. "You know that''s not possible," Alan continued, a slight hint of sadness on his face.

    Yes, I knew.

    "But thanks a lot for even offering," my friend added, with a barely visible smile, nodding.

    "It''s the least I can do," I said sincerely. It was very difficult to do nothing when a friend of mine was a victim of some degree of domestic violence. But given the time and the special conditions of his family, I feared that child services would separate Alan and his brothers. I couldn''t be the reason Alan lost what remained of his family.

    "Letting me stay here for a day is more than I could ask for," Alan said, lowering his head, still with a small smile.

    "You can stay as long as you need. You saw that my parents don''t mind," I reminded my quiet friend.

    "Yes, I saw that," Alan said, looking towards the house with a certain longing in his voice. "But I think I prefer to spend Christmas with Braxton and Christian. At least they deserve that these days," Alan added seriously.

    "They can always spend Christmas with us," I said slowly, gauging my friend''s reaction.

    Standing up while shaking his head, Alan said, "Your mom is awake; I think she''s going to make breakfast," stretching his body slightly.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled, turning to the kitchen window. A moment later, Mom, in her robe, much more put together than she should be just waking up, entered the kitchen, heading to the fridge cheerfully. "How did you know?" I asked, surprised.

    "I heard her," Alan simply responded before walking into the house.

    "How?" I asked, following my friend. It was impossible; I hadn''t heard anything.

    "Oh, boys, you''re awake. Good, help me," Mom said cheerfully as she saw us enter, first handing Alan a large bowl with a bag of flour. "We''re going to start making cookie dough," Mom continued with a big smile.

    "Good morning, Mrs. Duncan. Tell me what to do," Alan said kindly, ignoring my question entirely, as he washed his hands in the sink.

    "We''re going to start with the cookie dough. I have the recipe around here somewhere," Mom said, looking through the kitchen drawers. "Come on, PJ, help me find it," she ordered, moving her hand insistently as she kept searching.

    As time passed, the other family members also woke up. Mom had bought materials for decorating the cookies, making it an entertaining activity, even for Alan, who surprisingly didn''t have much skill in decorating despite incredible control of his hand''s small movements.

    When the cookies for decorating were finished, almost as if waiting for the occasion, the house phone rang. "I got it," Gabe quickly stood up, running to the phone to answer the call.

    "PJ, it''s for you," my brother said, pulling the phone away from his face with a certain degree of disappointment.

    "Hello?" I answered as I took the phone.

    "Mr. Duncan, you have a call from the North Pole, a Mr. Nicolas," a voice, obviously House, said on the other end of the line, in an exaggerated attempt at a cheerful voice.

    "What do you need House?" I asked, closing my eyes with a bit of exasperation.

    "Come on, kid, it''s Christmas. Have some spirit," House said sarcastically.

    "I''m not sure what you consider Christmas spirit," I replied, matching his sarcasm.

    "You''re right," House admitted. "I need you to come to the hospital today; we have work to do," he continued, and before I could say anything, he hung up.

    "Truthfully, I was planning to spend all day at home for Christmas, but sure, I''ll go to the hospital," I said to myself with the sound of the open line on the phone before hanging up.

    A few hours later, Alan had already packed the few things he had unpacked from his backpack. "Are you sure you want to go back home? You can spend

    Christmas with us," I said to my friend as we sat in my car.

    "Yes, I want to spend Christmas with my brothers. Don''t worry, PJ, I have everything under control," my calm friend assured me, keeping his eyes forward.

    "I understand," I said reluctantly.

    Finally outside Alan''s house, my friend, despite having a completely stoic expression when seeing his home, still took a few seconds to finally gather the courage to open the car door.

    "Thanks for everything, PJ," Alan said with his very small smile, nodding slowly. "Really."

    "I already told you, there''s nothing to thank," I said, bumping his fist as a farewell, starting the car once more and waiting for my friend to enter his house.

    Once again, Alan simply closed the car door and stood completely still, waiting for me to leave before walking to his house.

    After a few dozen uncomfortable seconds in which Alan didn''t move, I accelerated away from my friend''s house, seeing in the rearview mirror when he finally walked toward his house once I was far enough away.

    When I arrived at the hospital, after greeting and wishing happy holidays to almost all the nurses and doctors I passed in the hallways, I reached the clinic, where House, the day before, had surely in his sadistic crusade, ordered me to come to work.

    House, who was sitting in the nurses'' bay with Dr. Wilson, had behind him a tower of what I knew were delayed charts. "Look who arrived, the wonder boy," House said sarcastically when he saw me.

    "Dr. Wilson," I greeted the other man present, momentarily ignoring House. As always, Wilson returned the greeting with a kind smile.

    "It''s a Christmas miracle that you''re here today, kid," House said, moving his feet off one of the desks and taking the first chart from his mountain. "We''re doomed to useless labor, but if we do it together, I''m sure we''ll finish faster," he said theatrically, handing me the file.

    "Fourth circle of hell," Dr. Wilson said while filling out his own papers. "And no, charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all classic poetry, not when you take advantage of PJ."

    "I''m here because you told me to be here, and I don''t think it''s a good idea for me to fill these out. If the insurance finds out, you''ll lose your license," I said, putting the chart back in the pile of files.

    "Writing down what we already know to be read by nobody, I''m pretty sure Dante would agree that qualifies as useless," House replied to Dr. Wilson while throwing small paper balls. "And there''s no problem, kid. You were there for most of these cases; none of those people in suits with sticks up their butts will know the difference between what you write and what I don''t," he said, smiling. "Besides, it will serve as training. I think so," he added ironically.

    "I don''t think it''s a good¡ª" I was saying, but behind me, Dr. Cuddy, who had suddenly appeared, interrupted me.

    "You''re over two weeks behind in your charting," Dr. Cuddy exclaimed angrily, suddenly receiving one of the small paper balls House was throwing. Raising her hands, intrigued, she stared at House.

    "Oops," House said, feigning regret. "I missed."

    "What are you, eight?" Dr. Cuddy asked, exasperated.

    "Could an eight-year-old do this?" House asked, making a completely immature face.

    "You''d better stop, or it''ll stick that way," Dr. Cuddy said seriously while taking a chart from the pile of charts House had.

    "It''d be better than what he normally has," I said, reading the first of the charts in the tower, causing Dr. Wilson to nod in agreement.

    "You have a patient in exam one?" Dr. Cuddy asked House while reading the papers in her hand.

    "Yeah," House replied shamelessly, "but, see, I''m off in a couple of hours," he continued, checking his watch.

    "She has been waiting for you for an hour," Dr. Cuddy said seriously, extending the chart to House. "PJ," she continued, handing me the chart when House didn''t take it, before leaving, staring intently at House with a frown.

    "Melancholy without hope," House said, closing his eyes in frustration. "Which circle is that?" he asked Dr. Wilson.

    "All of them?" Dr. Wilson responded doubtfully.

    "Yeah," House said, standing up in agreement. "Come on, kid, you have to be there so you can fill that out," he continued, pointing to the chart in my hand.

    Defeated, I sighed, following House to the exam room, silently bidding farewell to Dr. Wilson with a slight nod.

    When we entered the exam room, three nuns were waiting, surprisingly unperturbed by having possibly waited for over an hour.

    "Hi, I''m Dr. House, and this is Stanley Donen," House said after recovering from the surprise of seeing nuns in the exam room. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

    "Stanley Donen?" I murmured, asking House.

    "Show them your hands, Augustine," one of the nuns said, lightly tapping the shoulder of the nun in the middle. "It looks like stigmata," the same nun continued nervously as Augustine showed House and me her damaged hands, likely due to some allergy.

    "Pius," the older nun present scolded the nervous woman.

    "You must be all the talk around the ''holy water'' cooler," House said sarcastically, inspecting the hands for a moment. "Been washing a lot of dishes recently?" he asked.

    "I help out in the kitchen," the nun with the damaged hands admitted.

    "Anything new in the kitchen?" I asked.

    "We just got a donation of saucepans and pots this week," the nun responded with a kind smile.

    "Should have spent your time saving souls," House said, unable to resist. "It''s easier on the hands."

    "The dish soap is the same as always?" I asked, ignoring House.

    "Yes," the older nun and the patient responded simultaneously.

    "It''s contact dermatitis," House immediately affirmed.

    "You''re allergic to the dish soap," I explained, seeing the nun''s intrigue.

    "Nonsense," the older nun immediately said. "We''ve always used that soap; why is there a problem now?" she asked House incredulously.

    "I''ve been a doctor for years, and he''s almost a doctor," House said, feigning offense. "Why do I have to keep assuring people that I know what I''m doing?"

    "A person can develop an allergy to things they''re exposed to repeatedly and for a prolonged period," I explained to the nuns, ignoring House.

    "The good news is," House said, walking to one of the drawers in the exam room and searching through the boxes, "free samples." With a box of Diphenhydramine in his hand, he handed it to the nun, nodding strangely cheerfully.

    "It''s an antihistamine. It''ll stop the allergic reaction," I explained to the woman.

    "Take one every eight hours," House said seriously. "It might make you feel a little sleepy, and get some of that over-the-counter cortisone cream," he continued.

    "Thank you, Doctor and Stanley," the nun said kindly.

    "That''s not my name," I murmured uncomfortably.

    "You want some water?" House asked as the nun took a pill from the box.

    "I have some tea," the nun said kindly, declining as she received a small cup of tea.

    "Well, you just relax for a few minutes," House said, nodding slightly. "That stuff works pretty fast. Let''s go, Stanley," he continued, smiling arrogantly as he walked out of the exam room.

    "Four minutes, impressive," Dr. Wilson said, looking at his watch as he continued working on his charts.

    "Don''t make it so easy, Wilson. Even the kid can make a joke out of that," House said as he walked towards the other doctor.

    Taking the top chart from House''s tower of charts to start filling it out, I laughed.

    "Doctor?" the older nun said from the exam room we had just left. "I want to thank you for your patience," she said with a slight smile, strangely looking at House.

    "Is she talking to you?" Dr. Wilson asked, equally puzzled.

    "Is she?" I asked, exaggerating my terror.

    "I don''t know," House said, equally puzzled, looking behind him. "She''s certainly looking at me."

    "It''s good to get a secular diagnosis," the woman said. "The sisters tend to interpret their illnesses as divine intervention."

    "And you don''t?" House asked, amused. "Then you''re wearing an awfully funny hat," he continued, pointing to the nun''s hat with an ironic smile.

    "Oh boy," Dr. Wilson said, incredulously taking his things from the desk. "Excuse me," he continued, hastily leaving the clinic.

    "If I break my leg, I believe it happened for a reason," the nun explained. "I believe God wanted me to break my leg, but also I believe he wants me to put a cast on it."

    Before House could respond with something likely insulting, the remaining nun in the exam room, who wasn''t the patient, came out completely worried. "Doctor! Something is wrong," the woman exclaimed, causing both House and me to rush back into the exam room.

    Upon entering the exam room, I found Sister Augustine clearly struggling to breathe. "Lift her chin," I ordered as House walked in.

    "Sister, you''re having an asthma attack," House said immediately, arriving at the same conclusion as me. Walking to one of the drawers to get epinephrine, he continued, "I need you to relax. Roll up her sleeve," he ordered me after speaking to the nun. "I''m going to give you epinephrine; it''ll open your lungs and help you breathe," House explained while injecting the medication into the woman''s arm.

    "What happened?" the older nun, who had entered behind us, asked nervously.

    "Did she take the pill?" House asked while discarding the used syringe.

    "Yes," the nun who had called us a moment ago responded, still completely frightened.

    "It''s probably an allergic reaction," House said calmly.

    "She''s allergic to an anti-allergy medicine?" the older nun asked incredulously.

    "You figure somebody''s out to get her?" House asked sarcastically. "How are you feeling?" he asked Sister Augustine, seeing her calm her breathing a bit.

    "Better," the nun responded in a murmur, still breathing heavily.

    "I''ll put you on some steroids instead," House said, taking out his small prescription pad.

    "Is my heart supposed to be feeling so funny?" Sister Augustine asked, touching her chest worriedly.

    "What Dr. House injected is adrenaline," I explained, taking one of her wrists. "It makes your heart beat fast," I said, feeling the woman''s pulse and gradually falling silent. "But not this fast. House!" I exclaimed as I helped the nun lie down.

    "Get a nurse," House quickly ordered one of the nuns while taking his stethoscope to listen to the nun''s heart. "Somebody get in here!" he shouted a moment later after listening.

    "Call a code," I ordered when the on-duty nurse entered the room, helping House open the nun''s shirt.

    "She''s having pulseless ventricular tachycardia," House said. "Charge up a defibrillator," he ordered the present nurse.

    "I''ll start with the chest compressions," I said, pushing House''s hand away and beginning the procedure.

    While the response team began connecting the nun to the portable monitor, I focused on performing the compressions correctly. "Charge to two hundred," House ordered with the paddles in his hand. "Clear," House said, placing the paddles and delivering the shock once everyone''s hands were clear.

    It took another two minutes of compressions and another shock to get a normal sinus rhythm.

    "We need to admit her," House ordered once more.

    When we left the room a few seconds after a group of nurses left with the patient and the two worried nuns, Dr. Cuddy was waiting with a deep frown. "To my office," she ordered sternly, holding a chart in her hand, and walked briskly toward her office.

    "Five dollars, and you take this?" House asked me, raising one of his eyebrows.

    "I don''t think that''ll work for Dr. Cuddy," I replied immediately.

    "You''re right. I''m too handsome to be mistaken," House said with feigned disappointment, walking toward Dr. Cuddy''s office. "Start with the charts," he ordered before entering Dr. Cuddy''s office.

    ---

    **Author Thoughts:**

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    Two weeks without a chapter have shown me that there are truly people who eagerly await updates of this novel week by week. I would like to thank absolutely everyone once again. I have never achieved anything in my life that makes me feel as special as reading comments asking when the next update will be. Thank you.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 58

    As I said, "Chapters" :D

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Unfortunately, House was right. The vast majority of charts in the unfinished pile were from cases I had been involved in.

    A couple of hours after carefully filling out the charts, House returned to the clinic. I saw him leave Dr. Cuddy''s office only a few minutes after entering, probably to meet with the other three doctors on the team. "Come on, your siblings are ready," the man said, leaning on his cane. "Did you do all those charts in these few hours?" House asked, surprisingly impressed as he pointed to the charts in front of me.

    "Yeah," I replied, placing the chart I had in my hands on top of the tower of charts.

    "You really are efficient," House said, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly. "Maybe from now on, I should let you handle the charts, to learn, of course, as my apprentice and all that," House said sarcastically as we walked out of the clinic where the three doctors working under him were waiting.

    "P.J., Merry Christmas," Cameron said, smiling cheerfully. She was the first to greet me, handing me a small stack of papers, a CBC from the patient.

    "Likewise," I replied, silently thanking her for the papers and beginning to read them immediately.

    "Hey, mate," Chase greeted me, raising his hand amicably, which I mirrored.

    "Can we start working?" Dr. Foreman asked, noticeably exasperated.

    "Oh, come on, Foreman, where''s your Christmas spirit? We had to wait for the kid," House said sarcastically, pointing at me as he walked as fast as his cane would allow. "He''s here now, let''s start. Ideas?"

    "Her hands were red and swollen," Cameron spoke first. "Maybe she has a skin infection, cellulitis? That could manifest with tachycardia."

    "No history of fever," I quickly negated while reading the data they had given me.

    "And the CBC results didn''t indicate an infection," added Dr. Foreman.

    "The eosinophils are mildly elevated," Cameron continued, accepting Dr. Foreman''s and my negation. "SED rate''s up a bit. Could we be looking at a systemic allergic response?"

    "It''s not allergic," House immediately denied. "Allergies don''t cause cardiac arrest like this. Could be inflammation of the blood vessels."

    "Vasculitis?" Dr. Foreman asked incredulously. "That wouldn''t give you an elevated eosinophil count," he continued.

    "Churg-Strauss vasculitis would," I said, finishing reading the papers.

    "And that''s why we wait for the kid," House said sarcastically to Dr. Foreman, smiling amusedly. "The blood vessels of the heart, lungs, and skin become inflamed, causing asthma, rash, and heart problems. It covers all her symptoms," House continued as Cameron opened the door to the diagnostic lounge.

    "You need a biopsy to diagnose," Cameron said calmly, following House into the room.

    "Chest CT would be quicker," Chase argued.

    "The lady just came in with a rash," Dr. Foreman said, completely incredulous.

    "What the hell are those?" House stopped a few steps from the door, staring at a bowl of small candy canes on the table.

    "Candy canes," Cameron responded nervously as Chase took one.

    "Candy canes?" House repeated, "Are you mocking me?" he asked, pointing to his cane again, joking with Cameron.

    "No, it''s Christmas, and I-" Cameron began to explain nervously, "I thought-"

    "Relax," House interrupted, "It''s just a joke."

    "Isn''t the prognosis for Churg-Strauss a bit grim?" Dr. Foreman asked, looking at me sternly.

    "Yeah," Cameron responded, still uncomfortable from House''s joke. "Untreated, only thirty-three percent of patients survive past one year. Treated, five years," she continued, her voice lowering slightly, saddened.

    "Then I definitely suggest treatment," House said sarcastically.

    "If it was any other attending doctor, I''d say he made a mistake," Dr. Foreman stated dryly, "and gave her too much epinephrine."

    "Saying you wouldn''t say it was my mistake is saying it was my mistake," House responded cryptically. "The kid was there; I administered the correct dose, right?" House asked, looking at me for a few seconds, raising his eyebrow.

    "Yeah," I responded after thinking for a second. I wasn''t entirely sure, but knowing House, if he had any doubt about his mistake, he would be trying by any possible means to prove it wasn''t.

    "Everyone screws up," Dr. Foreman said, ignoring my opinion completely. "Your rule. I think you fit within the subset of ''everyone.''"

    "I didn''t screw up," House declared seriously. "Order a chest CT and start the sister on prednisone, forty milligrams TID."

    "The sister?" Chase asked, surprised for the first time in the conversation.

    "Oh, didn''t we mention? The kid and I dealt with three nuns, disguised and all," House said sarcastically, waving his hands above his head. "The patient''s a nun, Sister Augustine."

    "Oh, I hate nuns," Chase murmured, lowering his head.

    "Who doesn''t?" House asked sarcastically.

    "The Pope?" I asked ironically.

    "Yeah," House agreed, pausing. "I may have judged them too quickly. There are at least some nuns I like," House added shamelessly, raising his eyebrows suggestively, causing Cameron to sigh in exasperation.

    Ignoring Cameron, House exited the room, almost immediately returning, "Come on, kid. I need you present, remember?"

    Following House out of the lounge through the hospital corridors, we encountered Dr. Wilson frowning deeply with his arms extended. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you almost kill a nun?" Dr. Wilson exclaimed, controlling the volume of his voice.

    "Completely his fault," I said, taking a step away from House and pointing at him without a second thought.

    "Eh," House exclaimed, feigning offense. "I expected a little more loyalty from my ''apprentice,''" he continued sarcastically.

    "I know it wasn''t your fault, but with you in the same room, I expected you to control House more. You''re much more mature than him, after all," Dr. Wilson joked, amused.

    "I know," I admitted, acting embarrassed and lowering my head slightly. "I''m sorry."

    "Oh, really?" House asked, raising one of his eyebrows. "I didn''t know I was under your care, Stanley Donen," House continued ironically, walking towards one of the elevators.

    "Who is Stanley Donen?" I asked, exasperated, following the two doctors.

    Ignoring my question, House entered the elevator that opened its doors almost immediately upon pressing the button. "How did Cuddy react?" Dr. Wilson asked as we waited inside the elevator.

    "Great!" House responded immediately with a touch of contempt, causing both Dr. Wilson and me to look at him for a few seconds. "If Cuddy thinks I made a mistake, the least she could do is suspend me from clinic duty," House said as the elevator doors opened again and we exited toward the clinic.

    "She doesn''t confuse making a mistake with being incompetent," Dr. Wilson explained condescendingly.

    "Oh, here we go, kid," House said, exasperated, rolling his eyes. "Lesson time."

    Opening the clinic doors, Dr. Wilson, House, and I entered. "I recognize that confidence is not my short suit."

    "Obviously," I said, greeting the clinic nurse silently with a smile.

    "Oh, come on, kid," House exclaimed, pretending to be offended again. "Like my ''son,'' remember?" he asked, pointing to me and then to himself with a strange smile.

    "Sure," I responded uncomfortably, nodding slowly.

    "I also recognize that I am human and capable of error," House continued, nodding quickly and almost immediately resuming his conversation with Dr. Wilson.

    "So you might have screwed this up?" Dr. Wilson asked, surprised that House could admit an error.

    "No," House immediately responded, despising the mere idea of having screwed up something.

    "So it''s merely a theoretical capacity for error," Dr. Wilson affirmed ironically.

    "Good point," House agreed, feigning surprise. "Maybe there isn''t one; maybe that''s my error," House theorized, taking a new chart from the nurses'' desk. "Come on, kid."

    "You know, most people who think as highly of themselves as you do like to talk about themselves," Dr. Wilson affirmed sarcastically, following House and me.

    "Most people don''t like to listen," House said, pausing and tilting his head. "So, what''s wrong with you?" he asked Dr. Wilson, intrigued, who instead of continuing and following us into the exam room, turned to enter the nurses'' bay.

    Inside the room, the first thing I noticed was an overweight older man dressed as Santa Claus, and the second thing was a strong fecal odor.

    House obviously noticed the man''s appearance and smell as well.

    "Santa," I greeted the man on the bed, amused, before House could say anything.

    "Oh no, Jack," House said, putting his hand on my shoulder and inventing another name for me, exaggerating his sadness. "He''s not the real Santa," House explained seriously, speaking slowly and with his hand still on my shoulder.

    "What?" I asked House, completely serious, feigning surprise.

    "Yeah, sorry," House said, nodding and pressing his chin. "Now, let''s guess, Jack," he continued, pointing to Santa Claus, who had a strange expression on his face.

    "Inflammatory bowel," I responded easily. Santa Claus was breathing through his mouth for some reason, making each exhalation smell extremely bad.

    "Wow," the patient exclaimed, embarrassed. "Is that bad?" he asked, worried.

    "Yes," House responded immediately.

    "It''s also written on your chart," House added, raising the papers in his hand. "Bloody diarrhea, gas, pain," he began to read. "Took sulfasalazine, but it didn''t work," House read the chart, surprised.

    "No," Santa Claus said, upset. "Then- Then I," he pressed his face as if trying to remember, stuttering.

    "Next, tried steroid enemas, oral corticosteroids, five ASA, six-mercaptopurine," House continued reading, increasingly astonished. "I''m impressed."

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "By my medical history?" Santa Claus asked, worried.

    "By how well your last doctor charted," House admitted, lightly hitting the chart with the back of his hand. "Look, Jack, this is how it should be done," House sarcastically added, handing me the chart.

    Obviously not interested in House''s jokes, the patient was nervous on the exam bed. "It''s one thing to go to the bathroom every hour, but when the kids sit on my lap, it''s-" he stopped, shaking his head sadly. "The store sent me home; they''re going to fire me," he declared, lamenting with his head down. "Can''t you put me back on five ASA? Maybe it''ll work this time."

    "Not likely," House denied calmly. "I''m giving you a prescription. It''s cheap, which is good because your insurance company won''t pay for it," he continued.

    I had no idea what kind of medication House could be talking about, possibly something experimental, which wouldn''t make sense for being ''cheap.''

    "Cogaritis?" Santa Claus read the note House gave him, confused, with a pair of glasses on his face.

    Oh.

    "Cigarettes," House clarified. "One twice a day, no more, no less. Studies show that smoking cigarettes is one of the most effective ways to control inflammatory bowel," he continued seriously. "Plus, it''s been well established that you look thirty percent cooler, right?" House asked, raising his fist to me.

    "Is he kidding me?" Santa Claus asked me, pointing to the prescription in his hand.

    "No, he''s not," I responded slowly to the patient, ignoring House.

    "Okay, you got me," House admitted, lowering his hand. "The part about looking cooler, yeah," he rolled his eyes. "The rest is true."

    "Isn''t it addictive and dangerous?" Santa Claus asked, worried.

    "Pretty much all the drugs I prescribe are addictive and dangerous," House admitted, not really caring about the implications. "The only difference with this one is it''s completely legal," House said, handing me the chart and smiling strangely. "Merry Christmas," he concluded, walking out of the room.

    "Merry Christmas, sir," I said, nodding to the man as I walked behind House.

    "Likewise, Jack," Santa Claus said with a slight smile, making me stop in the doorway.

    "That''s not my name," I murmured to myself before continuing to walk.

    "Why?" I asked House, frowning as I approached him.

    "I''m so sorry, kid," House said after a moment, looking puzzled. "Santa isn''t real," he whispered, looking around and putting his hand on my shoulder again.

    "You know that''s not what I meant," I said seriously, removing his hand from my shoulder. "Stanley Donen? Jack?" I asked, intrigued. "It''s not even funny; it''s just weird."

    "I got bored," House admitted shamelessly. "Oh, you''re PJ the kid from the newspaper," he continued faking an exited voice with disdain.

    "You know my name isn''t PJ, right?" I asked, pressing the bridge of my nose. "PJ stands for Patrick John," I said, beginning to fill out the last chart.

    "What?" House asked with feigned surprise, imitating what I had done a few minutes earlier in the clinic.

    After a couple more fairly basic patients, a cold and an ear infection, House''s pager went off. "Uh, there''s news," he said, waving the small device and truly excited to leave the clinic as he walked toward the exit.

    Leaving the chart I was working on with the nurse in charge, I followed him out.

    In the diagnostic lounge, the three doctors working under House and Dr. Cuddy were waiting at one end of the table. "What?" House asked, walking to the board.

    "The patient tested positive for herpetic encephalitis," Dr. Foreman said seriously.

    "So what''s that tell us?" House asked, pointing at me.

    "Her immune system is compromised," I responded, lowering my head slightly. House obviously would come to, if he hadn''t already, the diagnosis of Churg-Strauss vasculitis, but that didn''t stop me from feeling a bit bad.

    "Oh, I know," Dr. Cuddy said arrogantly, raising her hand. "Prednisone compromises the immune system," she declared. "Isn''t that the medicine you gave her for that thing she doesn''t have?" she asked, annoyed.

    Really, with such few doses, the prednisone wouldn''t do that.

    "Just because Patrick John here diagnosed Churg-Strauss vasculitis," House said, pointing at me and taking the opportunity to mock my name.

    "Don''t try to blame PJ," Dr. Cuddy immediately defended me, putting a stop to House''s joke. "It''s your responsibility to teach him, and if you accepted his diagnosis, it means it was good enough for you to think it plausible."

    "I''m starting to think this whole conversation is a trick," House said suspiciously.

    "Her immune system is severely compromised," Cameron repeated. "Two doses of prednisone wouldn''t do that," she continued.

    Correct.

    "Are you hanging your diagnosis on an adverb?" Dr. Cuddy asked incredulously.

    "In ten seconds, I''m going to announce that I gave her the wrong dose in the clinic," House declared, ignoring Dr. Cuddy''s question.

    "You''re going to admit negligence?" Dr. Cuddy asked incredulously.

    "Unless you leave the room," House said, nodding perplexedly. "If you stay, you''ll have to testify," he declared.

    "Five, four, three, two," House counted down. "So, there I was in the clinic, drunk," House exclaimed, making Chase and Cameron hide weak laughs. "I opened the drawer, closed my eyes, took the first syringe I could find," he continued, causing Dr. Cuddy to leave the room quickly and completely serious, obviously not finding the situation amusing.

    "So, what are the options for a compromised immune system?" House asked once Dr. Cuddy left the lounge.

    "Mixed connective tissue disease," Chase said immediately. "It''d explain why she was feeling better on the prednisone," he continued.

    "Sure," Dr. Foreman exclaimed sarcastically. "She was feeling better right up to the moment it almost killed her," he added, raising an eyebrow at me.

    "On the other hand, it explains the symptoms: swollen hands, pulmonary problems, cardiac problems. It all fits," House said reflectively.

    "Her ANA was normal," I said, shaking my head before Dr. Foreman could say anything.

    "Yeah," Dr. Foreman said, pointing at me with a small nod.

    "So let''s redraw the blood," House responded easily.

    "But the treatment is corticosteroids, prednisone, and we can''t go there because of the encephalitis," Dr. Foreman continued.

    He was right, but it wasn''t the only way.

    "Then we''ll treat it with something that modulates the immune system but doesn''t suppress it," House offered calmly.

    "Hyperbaric oxygen chamber," I said a little more excitedly than I should have, catching the attention of all the doctors present. I was eager to see one with my own eyes.

    "Yeah," House said, smiling sinisterly.

    "There''s no protocol for putting a patient in a high-pressure oxygen room to treat autoimmune problems," Dr. Foreman immediately rejected.

    "Oh, you people," House exclaimed with disdain, making Dr. Foreman raise an eyebrow, offended. "Always with the protocols," House added. "Prep the nun," he ordered seriously, making both Chase and Cameron stand up, "and discontinue the prednisone."

    "Can I go?" I asked, pointing to the two doctors leaving the room, hiding my strange excitement about seeing the machine. I''d never been able to see one.

    "Yeah, sure, I have an appointment anyway," House said, nodding at what I knew was code for watching his soap opera.

    Following Cameron and Chase, I quickly caught up with them in the hallway walking to the nun''s room.

    "You''re really interested in the hyperbaric oxygen chamber, huh?" Chase asked amusedly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    "I want to sleep in one of those," I admitted. I wanted to experience it at least once.

    "Yeah, makes sense," Chase agreed with me, amused.

    When we reached the patient''s room, the nun was completely asleep and alone.

    "Sister Augustine," Chase gently shook her shoulder, calling her softly.

    "Ah, Dr. Chase, do you need anything else?" the nun asked weakly, with a kind smile.

    "We need to go to another room. We''re going to do a new procedure," Chase said, helping the nun to sit up gently while Cameron pushed a wheelchair near the bed.

    "A new procedure?" the increasingly awake Sister Augustine asked, puzzled.

    "Yes, we''ll go to a pressurized chamber to modulate your immune system," Chase explained slowly, helping the nun to stand up so she could sit in the wheelchair.

    "Dr. Cameron, I didn''t greet you. How rude of me," the nun said, embarrassed, noticing Dr. Cameron holding the wheelchair and still maintaining her kind smile.

    "Don''t worry about that, sister," Cameron said softly, putting her hand on the nun''s shoulder.

    "Ah, you too, Mr. Donen," the nun noticed my presence a moment after sitting in the wheelchair, apparently remembering the false name House had given me.

    "Donen?" Cameron and Chase asked simultaneously, puzzled.

    "There was a misunderstanding, sister. My name is not Stanley Donen. I''m PJ Duncan. I apologize for not introducing myself properly," I said, taking one of the nun''s bandaged hands with a bit of embarrassment.

    "PJ Duncan?" the woman asked, slightly surprised, opening her eyes and seeing my face. "I can''t believe it; I didn''t see it before. You''re the boy from the newspaper. You look very different from the photograph," she continued.

    And I was very grateful for that. The photograph they used was an old one where I still had my old hairstyle and a bit more fat on my face. It wasn''t different enough to avoid being recognized by those who were good with faces, but it was different enough from my current self to prevent immediate recognition.

    "That''s right. PJ here is the ''local hero'' who actually also helped save your life when you arrived here," Chase said, shaking my shoulder lightly, smiling broadly and amused.

    "Then I guess a thank you is in order," the nun said kindly, squeezing my hand gently.

    "It''s nothing, sister. I was just doing my job," I replied immediately.

    "And I thank God for that," the nun said softly, releasing my hand and resting in the wheelchair.

    Without much else to say, we all left the room heading to where the machine was. Along the way, Chase explained the new diagnosis of her illness in simple words, making an effort to ensure the nun could fully understand it.

    In the room where the incredibly massive machine was, Cameron and Chase, along with the technician present, quickly prepared everything necessary for the sister''s treatment.

    "The pressure will force the oxygen into your system, saturate your blood, and it will enhance white cell activity, reducing inflammation," Chase explained while preparing the nun on the gurney.

    "And that will help with this mixed connective tissue disease?" the nun asked, somewhat worried.

    "We''ll be doing about ten treatments and then we''ll reevaluate," Chase continued.

    "The last treatment with prednisone caused the seizures, right? How confident is Dr. House about this?" the sister asked, concerned, as the machine moved her.

    "The fact that you reacted so strongly to the prednisone let us know that you had an underlying problem with your immune system," Cameron quickly explained, slightly diverting the sister''s question.

    "I guess it was a blessing of sorts," the sister said as the gurney stopped inside the machine.

    "Yeah," Cameron said, smiling and slightly nodding her head.

    When the door of the machine closed and the pressurization process began, I discovered it wouldn''t be as interesting to see the machine from the outside as experiencing it inside the machine.

    "The sister is

    right; you look different from the photograph," Chase said slowly, sitting in a chair next to me in the monitoring room.

    "His face is more angular and he has a different haircut," Cameron explained calmly.

    "Angular?" Chase asked.

    "Yes, if you lost a few pounds, your face would be angular too," Cameron said, pointing at Chase''s face. "Look at his chin; there''s almost no extra fat or skin," Cameron said, moving her chair closer to me and pointing at my face.

    "I get it," Chase said, nodding, looking more closely at my face. "Wait a minute, did you call me fat?" Chase asked, surprised a moment later, remembering what Cameron had said.

    "No," Cameron responded calmly. "You smell surprisingly good, PJ, congratulations," Cameron added, moving her chair back again, truly surprised.

    "Thanks?" I asked, confused. It was a compliment, but the way she said it for some reason felt like an insult.

    "I hadn''t noticed before, but your muscles are growing, mate," Chase said, surprised, changing the subject abruptly.

    "Yeah, I''ve been working out practically every day for a couple of months now," I responded, still taken aback by Cameron''s compliment-insult.

    Several other minor topics continued for a while until it was time to end Sister Augustine''s treatment and get her out of the machine.

    While Cameron finished what was necessary with the valves on one side of the machine, Chase and I opened the compartment that served as a door. "How are you feeling?" Chase asked immediately.

    "A little weak," the sister replied, her voice a bit rough.

    "That''s from the oxygen," Chase explained.

    "My mouth is dry," the sister continued, gently stroking her throat.

    "Okay, well, I''ll get you some of your tea," Chase said kindly, waiting for the machine to finish moving the sister.

    "Is she still taking her homemade tea?" I asked, puzzled. Usually, when patients were admitted to the hospital, they weren''t allowed access to food outside the hospital''s control.

    "Oh yeah, the other sisters brought the tea bags here. It''s pretty safe," Chase explained calmly.

    Several minutes later, the sister was back in her room. Cameron and Chase performed some quick physical exams, finding discrepancies in her oxygenation levels, which could be explained by oxygen irritation but were still somewhat alarming.

    Back in the diagnostic lounge, Dr. Cuddy, once again with Dr. Foreman and House, were waiting inside. "What''s going on?" Chase asked.

    "What''s happening is that I''m off the case and, therefore, the kid is too; after all, he is my responsibility," House said with distaste, emphasizing the last word. "Let''s go, Patrick," he continued, mocking my name as he walked out of the room, surprising everyone except Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cuddy.

    Following House, I quickly caught up to him. "Why?" I asked, puzzled.

    "Apparently, Mom doesn''t trust me to continue with the case," House said sarcastically. "Though it''s even possible there isn''t a case in the first place."

    "What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

    "The other nun, the pretty one, who I think likes me," House said, raising his eyebrows provocatively, "said that Sister Augustine is a hypochondriac¡ªsore throats and inexplicable joint pains," House continued sarcastically.

    "You think the patient is a hypochondriac?" I asked, puzzled.

    "Oh no, I just wanted to brag that a woman dedicated to God wants a piece of me," House replied arrogantly, smiling.

    "Understandable," I replied to the doctor, following him through the hospital hallways. "Wait," I remembered what House said after falsely accusing the woman of being a hypochondriac and stopped abruptly. "Sore throats and joint pains," I murmured, "Cameron was right."

    House, puzzled by my behavior, also stood a couple of steps away from me, watching me curiously.

    "Long-term allergic reaction," I reminded the man, whose expression immediately changed. "If we exclude the cardiac episode, all the symptoms fit," I continued before House could stop me.

    "Nice theory, kid, but I already told you, symptoms don''t just ''get excluded,'' and definitely I don''t think it''s divine intervention, at least not here," House said sarcastically.

    "The tea," I said, unwilling to continue House''s joke, taking him by surprise. "While I was with Chase and Cameron in the hyperbaric chamber, Chase offered her more of her tea. She''s been drinking it even in the hospital. I bet she drinks it even more regularly outside of here."

    My words left House silent for a few seconds, looking thoughtfully at the floor. "There are certainly teas that open the lungs, increase blood pressure, and stimulate the heart."

    "If you regularly drink that kind of tea and get even point one cc of epinephrine, what could happen?" I asked proudly.

    "Cardiac arrest," House proclaimed slowly, smiling sinisterly. "Five dollars and you let me brag about it to Cuddy," he offered, raising his hand immediately.

    "I won''t do the charts for you anymore," I counter-offered, seizing the opportunity.

    "Ten dollars," House offered, pressing his lips with pain on his face.

    "I assure you I can run faster than you, and Dr. Cuddy would believe me without a doubt," I threatened him seriously, making House lower his head in disappointment for a few seconds.

    "Deal," House murmured, defeated.

    "You won''t regret it, Frederick. It was a great deal," I said arrogantly while shaking his hand.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 59

    Another one.

    At the end of this chapter, in the Author Thoughts, there are a couple of points I would like you to take a look at (obviously after you finish reading the chapter).

    Enjoy.

    ---

    House and I had to test my theory before House could brag about it to Dr. Cuddy.

    "I warn you, kid, there''s a lot of sexual tension between the nun and me; it might be hard for you to process," House warned me, overly serious, as we walked to the patient''s room.

    "I assure you, I''ll be fine," I said, unamused by his jokes.

    "Don''t say I didn''t warn you," House said, shaking his head while opening the patient''s room door.

    "Ah, Dr. House," inside the room, there were only two nuns: the patient, Sister Augustine, and the ''pretty nun,'' who greeted us kindly as we entered.

    "I told you," House murmured arrogantly, stopping at the doorframe and catching the nun''s attention, who hadn''t noticed me behind House.

    "Augustine told me you''re PJ Duncan from the newspaper. Now I can see the resemblance," the nun said, smiling in surprise as she saw me.

    "Enough of that," House said, taking a few steps forward and interrupting, "I need to know what kind of tea you were drinking during the consultation when you arrived," House continued seriously, taking the nun by surprise.

    "It''s just figwort tea," the nun admitted quickly, looking worried.

    "Perfect, can I have one of the tea bags?" House asked, smiling broadly.

    Puzzled, the nun took a small tea bag from one of her habit''s pockets. "Thank you," House said, taking the tea bag and walking out of the room again, seemingly without any intention of explaining anything.

    "We think the tea might have had some reaction with the epinephrine that was administered to Sister Augustine. We need to investigate further, but for now, it would be prudent for the sister to stop drinking it for a while," I quickly explained to the puzzled woman before following House out.

    In one of the hospital corridors, a few steps away from Sister Augustine''s room, House and I met the other three doctors from the diagnostic team. "Ah, the other kids from the divorce," House said sarcastically. "How''s your mother? Has she brought any man home yet?" he asked, pretending to be annoyed, making the other three doctors shake their heads, especially Dr. Foreman.

    "What are you doing up here?" Chase asked.

    "I have a better one: what did Cuddy order you to do?" House asked, ignoring Chase''s question.

    "We''re going to put her on forty percent oxygen until her oxygen levels stabilize and administer a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory," Cameron quickly said before anyone else could speak.

    "He''s off the case; it''s unethical to discuss case details," Dr. Foreman said seriously.

    "Oh, relax, that''s about to change," House said sarcastically to Foreman, "cancel that," he ordered Cameron, who nodded slightly. "Come on, you can accuse me to Cuddy with all of us present; I don''t think that''ll be a problem for you," House continued, smiling at Dr. Foreman as he walked.

    Fortunately, the other three doctors followed us. Who knows what Cuddy''s treatment might do to the underlying condition we now had.

    When we entered Dr. Cuddy''s office, she was pressing the sides of her head, reading some type of document. The small crowd caught her attention. "What''s this, a boycott? I¡¯d expect it from Cameron, but Foreman?" she asked ironically.

    "Yeah, that''s exactly what it is, a boycott," House said before anyone else could speak, throwing the small tea bag.

    "What''s this, hemlock?" Dr. Cuddy asked, ignoring House''s joke.

    "I''m going to do you the biggest favor one doctor can do another and I''m going to stop you from killing your patient," House explained condescendingly. "It''s figwort tea, great for that little pick-me-up we''re all looking for in the morning, opens the lungs, increases blood pressure, stimulates the heart," House said theatrically, as if selling a product. "Unfortunately, if you then get injected with even point one cc of epinephrine, instant cardiac arrest," House continued sinisterly, "but, what the hell? It tastes great."

    Dr. Cuddy seemed about to say something, but House interrupted her, "Sister Augustine has been drinking it religiously, so to speak."

    "And if you take the cardiac arrest out of the equation¡ª" Dr. Foreman said, somewhat defeated, but House interrupted him.

    "All the rest of the symptoms can be explained by a severe long-term allergic reaction," House continued, glancing at me momentarily.

    "Well, that''s what Cameron said in the beginning," Dr. Foreman added.

    "Yes, she did, well done," House said, smiling at Cameron, who also smiled proudly. "But your unwillingness to stick by your diagnosis almost killed this woman. Take a lesson from Foreman and stand up for what you believe," House continued, wiping the smile off Cameron''s face.

    Dr. Cuddy, who had been silent either by choice or because of interruptions, sighed before nodding, "The case is yours again," she said, defeated.

    "I know," House said arrogantly, "okay, let''s go figure out how to save a nun," House continued, walking out of Dr. Cuddy''s office.

    "Damned if you do, damned if you don''t," Chase said, patting Cameron''s shoulder kindly as he followed House along with the other two doctors.

    "PJ," Dr. Cuddy stopped me before I could follow the other doctors, "good job," she said, smiling slightly, and without intending to add more, she continued with her papers.

    "Because it''s been untreated for so long, it''s gone from a simple ''watery eyes, scratchy throat'' allergy... to a whopping ''I''m going to kick your ass'' allergy, compromising her immune system, diminishing her ability to heal, and breaking down her organ systems," House said as we walked to the diagnostic lounge. "So, what''s the source?" he asked.

    "The dish soap," Chase offered.

    "No, the symptoms continued even here in the hospital," I disagreed immediately.

    "It''s got to be something she''s been exposed to here in the hospital as well as the monastery," House added.

    "What about the tea?" Dr. Foreman asked. "It caused her arrhythmia."

    "Could be, but it''s not definitive," House said, undecided.

    "What about where they made the tea?" I said, catching House''s attention.

    "Go on," the man with the cane said, pointing at me to continue.

    "They got a donation of saucepans and pots. The rash on her hands started when she was washing them," I said.

    "I like it," House nodded slowly. "We need to test it."

    "We''ll skin-test for allergens," Chase offered.

    "Not yet. She''s too reactive," Cameron disagreed this time. "She''ll test positive to everything. We need to stabilize her, isolate her from all possible allergens, give her system a rest."

    "Get her in the clean room," Chase agreed.

    "Okay, and then gradually introduce allergens and see how she responds," House said. "When she reacts to something, we''ll know that''s what''s killing her. Start with whatever they use to heat the water in the kitchen."

    The three doctors nodded seriously, preparing to walk back to Sister Augustine''s room.

    "Chase," House calmly stopped the Australian doctor.

    "Yeah?" Chase asked.

    "What do you know about the nun?" House asked seriously.

    Puzzled, Chase thought for a few seconds. "Her parents died when she was a child, and she''s been with the church ever since," he replied, not finding any importance in his words.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "What''s she lying about?" House asked.

    "Why do you say that?" Chase asked, strangely offended.

    "I always say that," House said, puzzled by Chase''s question.

    "She hasn''t been in the church since her parents died, or at least there was a time when she wasn''t there completely," I said, stopping House, who seemed about to say something else.

    "Oh, it looks like the kid knows more about the nun than you do. Watch out, he might steal her from you; he already saved her life once," House said sarcastically, looking between Chase and me.

    "She has a tattoo on her shoulder," I said, making House stop for a second, surprised, apparently recalling the same tattoo I saw when we opened her blouse to do CPR.

    "A skunk," House nodded slightly, remembering.

    "I didn''t know that," Chase said, puzzled.

    "All right, talk to the nun again, try to get her to tell you the truth, when she got that tattoo, and what else she did outside the church that wouldn''t look good in God''s eyes," House told Chase, who nodded seriously before walking away.

    "Kid," when Chase was far enough, House said seriously, "accompany him, find out if the nun is lying and get the truth," he continued seriously before walking in the opposite direction.

    And how am I supposed to do that?

    I easily caught up with Chase. "You want to come?" the Australian doctor asked, puzzled.

    "Yeah," I replied easily, still thinking about how to get the truth from the nun. Discovering if she was lying could be relatively easy, but getting someone to tell the truth was a completely different task.

    When Chase and I reached the nun''s room, Dr. Foreman and Cameron had almost everything ready to move the nun to her new room.

    "Ah, Dr. Chase, PJ," Sister Augustine greeted us weakly with a smile. Her breathing was obviously affected, and her body seemed about to give up.

    "Sister," Chase greeted the woman calmly, which I imitated.

    After finishing the necessary preparations for the transfer, the three doctors carefully moved the sister to the clean room.

    Outside the clean room, Dr. Foreman stopped me seriously, "You can''t go in; you have to stay outside with the sisters," he said.

    "House told me¡ª" I was saying, but the man stopped me.

    "I don''t care, he''s not here right now, and I don''t allow it," Dr. Foreman, increasingly annoyed, immediately denied.

    "I''d like PJ to be in there too; after all, he saved my life once," Sister Augustine, who was waiting with a couple of nurses to enter and carry out the cleaning procedure in the preparation area, said.

    "Sister that doesn''t matter, there are procedures¡ª" Dr. Foreman, much calmer when talking to the patient, was saying.

    "I know the procedures inside and out," this time I interrupted the man, confronting him directly.

    "I don''t care," clearly offended and annoyed by my audacity, Dr. Foreman said.

    "I say if he knows the procedures, he can enter; I''ll make sure he follows them correctly," Chase said calmly before Dr. Foreman could continue.

    "Yeah, me too," Cameron added.

    That was all I needed. Chase, Cameron and Dr. Foreman were basically at the same hierarchical level, and according to Dr. Cuddy, I only needed one responsible doctor to be present in a surgery; a clean room was basically the same.

    Unable to say anything else, Dr. Foreman, shaking his head, entered the preparation room angrily.

    Several minutes later, the sister was in her new bed in the clean room.

    "There you go, no television, no books," Dr. Foreman, showing his professionalism in dealing with patients, said calmly to the sister.

    "Not even my Bible?" the nun asked sadly.

    "I''m afraid not," Dr. Foreman replied. "This room has filtered air, filtered water, you even have silk sheets¡ªvery decadent and hypoallergenic," he continued, "you should be feeling better here."

    With that, Dr. Foreman, checking the room once more, silently said goodbye to the patient and walked out, accompanied by Cameron, not without giving me a hard look on his way out.

    "We''ll be coming in regularly to check on you," Chase said, glancing at me as if preparing to start ''interrogating'' the nun.

    "Can the other sister come in and pray with me?" the sister asked hopefully before Chase could say anything else.

    "It''d be better if you don''t have any visitors," Chase denied. "Once we isolate what''s causing your allergy, then we can be a little more lax," the Australian doctor kindly added. "I can pray with you," he offered, glancing at me again with a bit of embarrassment, making the sister nod with a few tears in her eyes.

    "I don''t want to die," the woman said, shedding some tears and focusing entirely on Chase, seemingly forgetting I was also in the room.

    "We''ll do everything we can to make sure that doesn''t happen, so don''t think about that," Chase interrupted immediately. "But we need to talk about something else¡ªyou lied to me," Chase continued, grabbing the nun''s attention.

    "What?" the nun asked, confused.

    "You said that after your parents'' death, you lived your entire life in the church," Chase said slowly, looking at the woman seriously.

    Closing her eyes for several seconds, the nun nodded. "When I was twelve, I ran away and lived on the street," the nun admitted. "For almost three years, I did many things I regret today¡ªdrugs, alcohol, and promiscuity," she continued, embarrassed.

    "Is that all?" Chase, without showing contempt, asked the nun kindly.

    "Yeah," after a second, the sister responded, avoiding Chase''s kind gaze.

    "It''s okay, none of that could have lasted long enough to affect you," Chase reassured, gently taking the nun''s hand, making her smile¡ªa clear sign of relief to anyone except House or me.

    The nun was lying.

    Ignoring my presence in the room, Chase and the nun began to pray quietly. I could feel my hands starting to sweat as I thought of a way to get the truth; I could only think of one, but I didn''t like it.

    Taking a deep breath, I ignored the disgust I felt about what I was about to do. "There''s something I don''t understand," I interrupted the calm ritual the two were performing in front of me rudely.

    Surprised for a second by recognizing my presence again, the nun smiled slightly. "I''m sorry?" she asked.

    "How can someone who lost their faith in God after three years of living on the street abusing drugs, alcohol, and sex suddenly regain it?" I asked harshly, pretending to do so uninhibitedly, trying to ignore the surprise on Chase''s face.

    "Wha¡ª" the sister was saying, shocked by the harshness of my words.

    "Yeah, why did you decide to regain faith in God after three years of ignoring him? Did you find him again at the bottom of a bottle?" I asked again, hiding my disdain for my words. Now that I started it I couldn''t stop until the woman revealed what she was hiding.

    "PJ," standing up with a frown, obviously angry, Chase exclaimed, walking towards me. "Foreman was right; you can''t be here," he said, trying to push me, but I managed to resist for a few more seconds.

    "People usually regain their faith in God after a traumatic event; they need it. What happenedto you?" I asked, pushing back against Chase''s arms, who was getting more and more annoyed.

    "I don''t¡ª" the nun, now crying, was saying.

    "What did you do, steal? Kill someone?" I asked insistently, seeking a reaction from the nun, getting one with the second question¡ªI didn''t expect that to be the correct one.

    "That''s enough," taken by surprise by the nun''s reaction, Chase was able to push me all the way against the room''s glass, "What''s wrong with you?" pressing me against the large window, the usually friendly doctor asked me furiously, but I couldn''t take my eyes off the nun, who I had apparently finally broken. Meanwhile, Cameron and Dr. Foreman, who were outside witnessing what was happening inside, were quickly preparing to enter.

    "When I was fifteen," with her eyes closed, still crying, the nun suddenly said, catching Chase''s attention, "I was on every kind of birth control known to man, and I still got pregnant," the nun continued, and I could feel the pressure on my chest from Chase''s arm release. "I had an abortion and I blamed God, I hated him for ruining my life," the sister admitted, "But then I realized something. You can''t be angry with God and not believe in him at the same time," she continued, "and that''s why I returned to the church," she finished, smiling weakly.

    After what seemed like a long, awkward silence, as I absorbed the nun''s words and at the same time relived my own words.

    "I''m very sorry for my words, sister," I finally said moving out of Chase''s reach without being able to look the woman in the face, embarrassed, quickly walking out of the room with Chase behind me.

    I walked quickly to the diagnostic lounge, feeling disgusted by how I had obtained the woman''s information.

    "What happened in there?" Cameron, who had interrupted her preparation to re-enter the clean room, asked worriedly when she caught up with me in one of the hallways.

    "You''re supposed to only learn medicine from House, not to be House," quite angry, grabbing my shoulder to stop me, Chase, who had run part of the way, exclaimed.

    "I''m sorry, I couldn''t think of another way to do it. If I hadn''t done it this way, there was a chance she would never have said it out of shame," I admitted.

    "That''s no excuse¡ª" Chase was saying, but from the hallway, a voice interrupted him.

    "Sounds like the kid got what he wanted, what we needed," House arrived calmly, "Who cares about the method he used," he continued, "as long as it wasn''t torture," he sarcastically added, looking at me with fake concern.

    "Of course, you would say something like that," Dr. Foreman, who until then had said nothing, simply observing with a small smile, said with contempt.

    "What did you find, kid?" ignoring Dr. Foreman, House, smiling strangely proudly, asked.

    "It doesn''t matter that she''s in a clean room," I said, surprising the three doctors under House''s command, "she''s always been exposed to her allergen," I continued. "When she was fifteen, she was on every kind of birth control known to man¡ª"

    "And so what?" Chase interrupted me.

    "In the eighties, a form of birth control was pulled off the market, an IUD, the copper cross," I said, making House''s strange smile widen.

    "She''s always had the symptoms, but the truly severe ones started when she was washing the donated saucepans and pots at her church," I said.

    "Copper allergy, rare but possible", House said, nodding.

    "Wouldn''t she know she had an IUD?" Chase, still frowning, asked.

    "She had an abortion; the IUD must have been left in by accident," I responded.

    "Order a full body scan," House ordered.

    "What if she refuses? I don''t think she''ll want anything to do with us after we allowed what he did," Dr. Foreman arrogantly asked, pointing at me.

    "Tell her I''m looking for a miracle," House said sarcastically, making the other three doctors leave, with Chase and Dr. Foreman still glaring at me.

    "Merry Christmas, PJ," Cameron said before leaving with her colleagues.

    "Great job, I couldn''t have done it better," House said, strangely proud.

    "I care about the method we use to help people," ignoring House''s words, upset about the whole situation, I practically screamed, "it doesn''t feel right to attack someone''s feelings to get the truth."

    House remained silent for several seconds. "At some point, you''ll learn that ''ethics'' and ''moral'' are sometimes an obstacle to truly helping someone, to diagnose" House said seriously. "You have to make a decision: a doctor who saves lives by breaking some rules or one who loses some lives by following the rules to the letter."

    Leaving me alone in the hallway, House walked away, limping with his cane, following where the other three doctors had gone earlier.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    A few things:

    1. As some of you may have noticed, I changed a few aspects of this House case''s development, skipping some parts, such as House''s visit to the monastery or Dr. Cuddy''s failed treatment. I believe I managed to resolve it satisfactorily, but I would love to hear your opinion.

    2. Also I had this issue of PJ with the dichotomy of Machiavellian thinking¡ªdoing whatever it takes to diagnose a patient¡ªplanned almost from the beginning of the novel. House obviously has no problem with the ''end justifies the means'' mentality, and it''s something I want to explore in more depth with my character. How far is it ''right'' to cross that line? And how to apply it to the novel? I''m also eager to read your opinion.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 60

    So, we could say that there will be a couple of ''filler episodes,'' being very general in the definition of filler. I think part of the development in this chapter is important for many things that will happen in the future of the story.

    Without further ado, Enjoy.

    ---

    Before I realized it, I was already in my car, still thinking about what I had done. I didn''t feel good about the way I obtained the information; the sister had been nothing but kind to anyone she interacted with.

    I didn''t want to go home, where my whole family would be preparing for Christmas, feeling so upset with myself. I needed to blow off some steam.

    Without hesitation, I drove to the lot where Case lived. Maybe I could hit the bags to distract my mind.

    The road was almost empty, clearly because most people would be at home with their own families, celebrating together, so I could drive for the first time since I had Debbie without caring about traffic laws, pressing the accelerator with no music on the speakers, feeling the wind coming through the window.

    Finally, upon arriving at the container company where Case, possibly without permission, lived on a vacant lot, I parked my car.

    Fortunately, even though there was a break from training for a few days, it was obvious that Case would not stop training on his own, so everything was prepared as usual.

    Case''s trailer, as always, had the curtains and door closed. I doubted very much that the man had anyone to spend Christmas with, so I knew he was inside.

    Not wanting to bother the man on his ''vacation,'' I walked to the last of the bags, hitting it immediately once I was at a sufficient distance.

    After several jabs, crosses, hooks, elbow punches, and some kicks, I still couldn''t get the face of the nun, completely incredulous while tears streamed down her face, out of my head.

    "I''m pretty sure you won that fight," suddenly from behind me, with arms crossed and his almost always present frown, Case said, obviously surprising me.

    "Case," I panted, trying to catch my breath, embarrassed that the man had seen that.

    "We need to train that kick more," Case said, shaking his head while walking behind the bag, "come on," he continued, ordering me to kick.

    Without really intending to stop hitting the bag, I immediately followed the muscular man''s orders, kicking the bag hard.

    In one of the kicks I was going to deliver, when I lifted my leg, Case pushed the bag towards me, making me lose my balance and fall hard on my butt.

    "An angry mind is a narrow mind," Case said calmly, holding the bag.

    "It''s not fair, I was distracted," I said, getting up and dusting off my clothes.

    "Exactly, where your mind goes, your body follows," still frowning, Case said. "So, I don''t care what kind of problems you have, deal with them and come train," he continued before walking towards his trailer.

    Watching Case enter his home, I delivered one more punch to the bag, mentally preparing myself to go home even though I didn''t feel ready.

    Before I could muster enough motivation to get back to my car, Case''s trailer door opened once more. The man, with a chessboard in his hands, silently settled at the small table, inviting me to play without saying a word.

    We played without talking for several minutes, maybe even hours. The sun was more and more at sunset when Case finally stepped away from the small table. "It''s time for you to go. I''m sure your family is waiting for you. It''s Christmas," he said quietly, taking all the pieces.

    Without saying more, Case, with the pieces and the board in hand, entered his trailer again.

    Shaking my legs slightly, having sat so long on the small chairs had cut the circulation to my limbs, I stood up, much calmer about the decision I had made. I still didn''t think it was the right one, but it was done. I couldn''t keep dwelling on it.

    Walking back to my car, I stopped, sighing before walking back to Case''s trailer.

    After knocking on the door, I waited a few seconds until the door opened again, with one eyebrow raised. Case silently asked what I wanted.

    "Come and spend Christmas with my family," I said, immediately regretting it when I saw Case frown.

    "We are not friends," Case asserted harshly, frowning more than ever.

    "I didn''t say otherwise," I replied immediately. "No one should spend Christmas alone," I continued, really feeling it. I had spent dozens of Christmases alone, sleeping thanks to alcohol.

    "I don''t¡ª" Case was saying, but I interrupted him.

    "You just have to come, drink with my dad, who, by the way, still remembers you fondly, prove to my mom that you are not a mass murderer, even though you look like one," I whispered the last part, "have turkey dinner, and you can go back to doing whatever you do inside ''Daisy,''" I quickly added.

    Case said nothing, staring at me for several seconds.

    "You can see it as a thank you for these months. I don''t think we will be friends after this," I clarified, feeling nervous about Case''s lack of response.

    "Wait here," after another moment of silence, Case said, slamming the door.

    "Well, I take that as a yes," I said to the trailer door.

    A few minutes later, Case, surprisingly dressed in a formal shirt, came out carrying a transparent container with what appeared to be mashed potatoes.

    "What?" Case asked dryly, still frowning.

    "I didn''t know you had shirts with sleeves that reach the wrist," I said sarcastically, pointing to his clothes while moving aside so the man could exit his home.

    "Don''t make me regret this," Case said seriously before walking towards my car. Aside from ''Daisy,'' I don''t think Case has another means of transportation other than walking.

    While we were on our way home, with music occupying the uncomfortable silence inside the car, "So, was it a coincidence that you just had mashed potatoes around? I didn''t know you cooked," I said, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

    Sighing audibly, Case closed his eyes. "I already regret it," he declared dryly. "Your weekly payment includes a sack of potatoes. What do you think I do with all those potatoes, eat them raw?"

    "Of course not," I responded immediately, a bit nervously.

    When we arrived home, Case quickly got out of the car, still holding his container, studying the neighborhood. "Nice house," completely out of character for him, Case said dryly.

    "Thanks," still surprised by the man''s sudden kindness, I said slowly before walking towards the house with Case behind me.

    Inside the house, Bob, as usual, was sitting in his usual spot on the couch, watching TV. The only difference from other days was a flashy Christmas sweater.

    "Hey Dad," calling the man''s attention, I said, making him turn around with a big smile, "do you remember Case?" When Bob turned enough to face us, I could see the surprise on his face upon seeing my ''sensei.''

    "Of course, Mr. Walker, how are you?" Almost immediately losing the surprise from his face, Bob stood up with a big smile, asking while extending his hand kindly.

    "I''m very well, Mr. Duncan. Please call me Case," Case, accepting the handshake, said, surprisingly kind, even with a smile that didn''t seem fake.

    "Then you have to call me Bob," Bob immediately added.

    After the two adults greeted each other again, a short but uncomfortable silence ensued, reminding me that I hadn''t explained anything.

    "I invited Case to spend Christmas with us," I quickly said, hoping Bob and Mom wouldn''t be mad at me.

    "Oh, sure, that''s great, I''m very happy," Bob said immediately, smiling kindly.

    "I brought some mashed potatoes," raising his container, seemingly a bit embarrassed by the situation, Case said.

    "PJ can take it to the kitchen. While you''re there, bring a beer for your master champ," Bob said, patting my shoulder cheerfully.

    In the kitchen, Mom was checking the oven, where I was pretty sure a turkey was finishing up. "Ah PJ, you''re finally back. Help me with this, please," she said, pointing to a jar of olives on the kitchen counter as soon as she saw me enter.

    "Mom¡ª" I was saying, but Mom snapped her fingers, remembering something upon seeing me.

    "I have your sweater in my room. Your siblings already have theirs. You have to wear it," the petite woman said quickly, not letting me speak, walking out of the kitchen.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    "Mom, wait," leaving the now-open jar where it had been, I said, following her.

    Mom, surprised, was just a step away from the kitchen door, staring intently at the couch where now, next to Bob, Case was sitting.

    "Why is there an incredibly muscular stranger on my couch?" Mom asked intrigued, in a whisper.

    "Mom, this is Case Walker, my martial arts master. I invited him to spend Christmas with us," I said, raising my voice a bit to catch the attention of the two adults watching TV.

    "Mrs. Duncan, excuse my rudeness," Case said, standing up quickly. "Case Walker," he continued, approaching Mom, extending his hand.

    Mom, staring seriously at Case for a few seconds, left the much larger man''s hand hanging. "Are you taking care of my PJ?" Mom asked, narrowing her eyes, taking me by surprise.

    "Of course, ma''am," lowering his hand, Case seriously responded, not breaking eye contact.

    The two engaged in a staring contest for a few seconds until Mom raised her hand. "It''s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr

    . Walker. Please call me Amy. I''m glad you can join us today," Mom said, immediately changing her attitude.

    "Then please call me Case," shaking Mom''s hand, imitating what Bob had said a few minutes ago, Case said.

    "PJ, please bring Case a beer," Mom said, smiling broadly. "So, what kind of things do you teach at your martial arts school?" I heard Mom ask as I walked back to the kitchen.

    I quickly brought the drink to Case, who continued talking with Mom and Bob about the activities we did at the lot. For some reason, Mom didn''t want me present in the conversation, so she sent me away.

    Avoiding looking at Case, who had been so reluctant to come, I decided to clean up to put on the clothes Mom had chosen, another flashy Christmas sweater.

    Much cleaner than when I arrived home and wearing a sweater with a reindeer on it, I left my room several minutes later, ready to face Case, who would probably be upset about accepting my invitation.

    Back in the living room, I found Case talking quietly with Bob and Mom, even with a small but visible friendly smile, completely unnatural.

    "Ah PJ, I knew that sweater would look perfect on you," Mom said, standing up to fix some wrinkled parts of the garment.

    "Yeah, Mom, thanks," still uncomfortable with the unexpected change of reality, I said, somewhat distracted. Seeing Case being so kind was like watching House being respectful to someone for more than a few minutes without faking it.

    "Mom, do I really have to wear this sweater? It itches," from the same hallway I had arrived from a moment ago, Gabe, stretching his own Christmas-themed sweater, asked, stopping when he saw the strange man sitting in the living room.

    "Yes, you have to wear it all night, at least until we take the family photo," Mom seriously told the younger boy, pulling him to forcefully adjust the sweater Gabe constantly stretched.

    "Sorry, who is he?" pointing to Case, Gabe asked without any shame.

    "Case, this is my younger son Gabe," Bob said, maintaining his friendly smile. "Gabe, this is Case Walker, PJ''s martial arts master," he explained.

    "Are you teaching PJ to kick butt?" Gabe asked immediately, surprised, receiving a smack on the back of his head.

    "Language," Mom reprimanded sternly.

    "Yes, that would be me," Case responded again, much calmer than I felt comfortable witnessing my brother.

    "Cool," nodding slightly, Gabe said, "Really, Mom, can I take off the sweater and just wear it for the photo?" Ignoring Case again, Gabe asked Mom with frustration on his face.

    "All right, but if the sweater looks wrinkled in the photo, I''ll take away your little box," Mom warned seriously.

    "Thanks," immediately taking off the sweater, Gabe exclaimed, almost running back where he came from.

    Now without my brother''s presence, Mom returned to the sofa next to Bob, smiling kindly at Case. "You were telling us about when you lived in Brazil," Mom said, leaning on Bob''s arm and indicating to Case to continue.

    "Yes, I lived a couple of years at the house of one of my teachers, Oswaldo Fadda, who later sent me to stay with another of my teachers'' families, the Gracie''s," Case said, opening up more to my parents, whom he had known for at most a couple of dozen minutes¡ªsomething he was sure he had never done with Tim or me, with whom he basically spent a couple of hours each day.

    "Teachers?" Mom asked, interested. "In martial arts?" she added.

    "Yes, exactly, they trained me in one of the martial arts I teach to PJ," Case momentarily shifted his focus, looking at me, momentarily losing his friendly smile before returning to my parents. "Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu."

    "Uh, ''jiu-jitsu,'' sounds like a great Portuguese word," strangely excited, Mom said.

    Case, again unusually friendly with other adults, avoided correcting Mom, simply nodding with a small, somewhat forced smile.

    After a few minutes during which both Mom and Bob began explaining the history of the Duncan family from the kitchen, one of those analog alarms sounded, warning Mom that dinner was ready.

    Dinner turned out to be very pleasant, except for a start where Teddy was somewhat uncomfortable with the sudden addition of a massive stranger at the table, but with Gabe''s constant questions to my teacher, the discomfort faded away.

    Another consequence I hadn''t thought of when bringing Case home for Christmas dinner was my diet. Since he was essentially my guest, Mom sat the man next to me, making it easy for him to serve me more food.

    After dinner, everyone at the table engaged again in different conversations until at some point in the night, Mom checked the clock on the house wall. "I think it''s time," she said with a big smile. "Case, you''re going to love this," she continued, reminding me of what we were supposed to do today. "It''s time for the annual Duncan family talent show."

    Oh no.

    "Yeah," equally excited, Teddy stood up, rushing to the living room to move the small table in front of the sofa by herself.

    "Talent show?" intrigued, Case asked Bob.

    "It''s an annual Duncan family tradition," Bob cheerfully explained. "We started it when PJ was just five years old, Teddy was only three, and Gabe wasn''t even born yet."

    I had completely forgotten about the talent show. Mom had mentioned it casually during dinner last week; at that moment, I hadn''t paid enough attention as I was exhausted from all the ''patients'' in the clinic.

    The other members of my family as one went to their rooms for a couple of minutes to prepare for their own acts, leaving Case and me alone in the living room.

    Losing his friendly attitude completely, Case frowned at me.

    "Case," forming an idea in my mind, I nervously said.

    "What?" the man asked seriously.

    "Could we give a quick jiu-jitsu demonstration, maybe a couple of submissions for my family as my act?" avoiding eye contact with the normally closed-off Case, I quickly said.

    Contrary to my expectations, Case didn''t immediately refuse and sighed for a long moment as if outside his trailer. "Okay," he finally said.

    "Thanks, man," surprised by Case''s response, I said, maybe this was the beginning of a better relationship with the usually closed-off man.

    "Don''t thank me yet," raising one of his eyebrows sinisterly, he said.

    "Okay," nervous, I said, there won''t be any improvement, yeah not today.

    With Teddy as the presenter, my family performed their acts for the talent show. Mom and Teddy sang a Christmas song together, Bob did a small magic show, and Gabe played a song on his guitar.

    "Lastly tonight, PJ, who hasn''t told anyone what his act will be," Teddy said, losing her smile at the last part.

    Glancing at Case, who surprisingly had watched the entire show without seeming disinterested at any moment, we stood up at the same time.

    "As Case has already told you, one of the martial arts he teaches is Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, which originated in Brazil by the Gracie family, who adapted certain aspects of judo into practice," while Case rolled up his shirt sleeves, I also explained, carefully folding Mom''s sweater to the side.

    "Jiu-Jitsu, or jujutsu, from the Japanese ''gentle art,'' is a martial art that encompasses a wide variety of combat systems based on defense," Case interjected as he and I bowed to each other in front of my family, as he had taught me. "The Brazilian system created by my teacher Carlos Gracie was adapted so that smaller opponents could defeat much larger opponents" Case finished saying, indicating with a small nod that we could begin.

    Case wouldn''t make it easy, although I hoped that as in training, he would at least let me pass his guard a couple of times.

    "This is a double armlock," after a few seconds of sparring from the knees, Case managed to reach a submission position.

    "Oh," I could hear my family say in unison, apparently impressed by the lock.

    Tapping Case''s arm left me free to prepare once more from the starting positions on our knees.

    "This is a kimura," again in a couple of seconds, Case had one of my arms behind my back while calmly explaining to my family before releasing me with a quick tap.

    Much more focused, ignoring Gabe''s laughter once again, I prepared myself in front of Case, the small shoulder bumps began, in training, while explaining things, Case telegraphed a lot his movements so it would make it much easier to learn, right now, it was almost impossible to try to predict what he was going to do.

    Fully focusing on my teacher''s eyes, controlling my breathing and paying attention to what I was doing with my hands, in a flinch I saw in his eyes a small movement to my left shoulder.

    Without overthinking it, in a rapid counter movement I managed to catch Case''s wrist, pulling his guard towards me, quickly moving my feet to send them over his shoulder, "well done," I heard Case say, "this is an armlock," he explained before tapping.

    "That was so cool," suddenly very excited, Gabe said, standing up, applauding like the rest of my family, I had almost completely ignored the sound around me.

    "I think that''s enough," Case calmly said, once again assuming a bow position to end the demonstration.

    "Yes, that was pretty fantastic," Bob added smiling broadly to Gabe''s comment, "I knew sending you with Case was a great decision."

    Several minutes later, Case was ready to return home, and once again, I would be the one driving him.

    "You have to come to the next barbecue, when the season starts again, I''ll make sure PJ brings you," formally shaking hands, Bob said.

    "Sure," smiling again, strangely, Case replied, since I had never seen him have more expressions than a frown, disgust, or mockery, I couldn''t tell if the answer was true.

    "It was nice meeting you, Case, please take care of PJ," Mom kindly said, also shaking hands with the man.

    "That will be my number one priority," Case assured, for a moment looking sinisterly at me.

    During the ride, again, Case with his furrowed brow. Beyond the music playing on my car speakers, there was not a single other sound inside the car.

    Arriving at the site where Case lived, I stopped, waiting for Case to get out. "It was nice to spend Christmas with your family, thank you," after a sigh, Case murmured, "if you tell Tim what happened today, you will suffer," he continued calmly, it was not a threat, it was definitely a warning.

    "I won''t tell him," I promised immediately.

    Silently nodding, Case opened the door of my car, "when we get back, remember me divide your training by days, three days we''ll continue with grappling, and the other three striking," as he got out of the car, it was the last thing he said before closing the door and walking towards his trailer.

    Early the next morning, Gabe woke me up excited about opening the gifts.

    "I''m coming, I''m coming," being dragged by Gabe, we arrived at the sofa in the living room where I sat down to wait for the other family members whom Gabe obviously took as a task to wake up.

    When everyone was in the living room, Gabe began distributing the gifts left under the tree. We had agreed beforehand that the gifts I had brought from Boston would be considered Christmas gifts, so apart from me, everyone had given at least one gift to someone else.

    "Thanks, kiddo," with a comic book in my hand, I said, shaking Gabe''s hair; it was a smart gift, basically using part of the money Mom or Bob had given him to buy a gift he could also use at some point.

    Mom gave me clothes, Bob gave me new running shoes, and Teddy gave me a perfume.

    "Now that all the gifts are given, your father and I have a surprise for you, one more gift for the whole family," Mom standing in front of everyone on the living room sofa said making Bob stand next to her "we''ve been talking with some very kind people," Mom continued, smiling broadly.

    "Next week¡ª" Bob seemed to also want to share the news, but Mom interrupted him.

    "The Duncans are going to Boston!" Mom exclaimed excitedly, giving a little jump.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    Halfway through writing this chapter, my keyboard broke down. Specifically, the space bar stopped working. I bought a fairly cheap replacement, but it''s very uncomfortable to type with. What would normally take me a couple of hours to write¡ªabout 3,000 words¡ªtook much longer due to the discomfort of the new keyboard.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    P.S.: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    P.P.S.: I didn''t specify in the opening notes, but the ''filler chapters'' will possibly last for the next two chapters; afterward, we''ll return to the ''normal'' development (though I don''t consider what I have planned to be entirely ''filler'').

 Daily Drama - Chapter 61

    I hope to continue providing quality content so that everyone keeps reading this.

    Thank you again :D

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "Boston?" Teddy asked excitedly.

    "Isn''t that where PJ went by plane?" This time it was Gabe''s turn to ask, getting excited for a completely different reason.

    "Yes, the kind couple your father and I have been talking to are the ones who hosted PJ in Boston a few days ago, Dottie and Dr. Thomas," Mom explained excitedly.

    "They wanted to meet all of us and invited us to spend two weeks in Boston," Bob added.

    Ah, I remember Dottie had said she wanted to talk to my parents about it; I had completely forgotten.

    "That''s so awesome! I have to call Baja and Bianca; they''re going to be so jealous," Teddy said, still excited, as she ran towards the house phone.

    "I''m going to fly on a plane," Gabe murmured, completely lost in his thoughts, walking with his gifts hugged tightly.

    "Are you happy?" Mom asked, smiling slightly as I was the last of her children present.

    "Oh yeah, the Thomases are some of the kindest people I''ve met. I didn''t expect to go back to Boston so soon," I replied, smiling happily.

    "They''re also excited to see you again; they couldn''t stop praising you," Mom said proudly, pulling me into a tight hug.

    A couple of hours later, the neighborhood kids, with their new toys received as gifts, came out to show them off to the other kids, as if it were a planned event.

    Among all the kids, obviously, was Gabe, who, along with the younger Cooper kids and the Sparks, was in our front yard comparing toys, except for Sheldon, who had received books.

    "Does your family do a talent show every year?" Cam, who was surely accompanying Georgie all day on the Coopers'' orders, asked, surprised and a bit jealous.

    "Yup, every year Dad does a magic show and Mom sings a Christmas song," I replied, amused by Georgie''s discomfort with having his uncle with us.

    His uncle was eager to fit into any interaction. With any other person, it would be quite easy to include them in the conversation; we would just need to continue talking about a common topic. But Cam was strangely desperate to be included, so much so that it was almost painful to watch.

    It only took a few minutes for him to feel confident enough to change the topic of conversation to focus on himself.

    "I wish my family, our family, had that kind of tradition," Cam said longingly, pointing at Georgie. "Instead, all we do is eat dinner as quickly as possible and go to bed to open presents early."

    "I don''t see anything wrong with that," Georgie said immediately, strangely offended.

    "Yeah," Cam said, nodding slightly as he looked at his nephew. "You know," he continued, very excitedly remembering something, "I won the Cutest Baby contest at the Jasper County Fair in ''74, which is kind of a talent show."

    "What kind of talent did you have as a baby?" I asked amusedly, as Cam had once again found a way to steer the conversation towards himself.

    "I was very cute," Cam explained proudly.

    "Certainly a useful talent," I said, patting the robust boy''s shoulder with amusement.

    "Oh yeah, it is," Cam responded, laughing nervously.

    After that, as usual when Cam was around, an awkward silence ensued.

    "We should go do something," I said, tired of just sitting on the porch, standing up and lightly tapping Georgie''s shoulder, causing him to stand up almost immediately. It seemed he couldn''t stand being there any longer either. "I''ll go get my keys."

    "Hey, Dad, I''m going out with Georgie and his uncle. We might go for chocolate milkshakes or something," I said to Bob, who was watching TV in his usual spot in the living room, as I entered the house again.

    Without even turning around, completely focused on his TV program and enjoying his vacation, Bob simply raised one of his thumbs.

    When I went out again, I saw Cam heading back to the Cooper house on his own. "Hey, Cam! Where are you going?" I asked, catching Georgie''s attention, who was distracted watching Gabe and Billy Spark playing with their toys.

    "Oh, I thought¡ª" Cam said awkwardly, stopping to point at us, then at himself, and finally at the Cooper house.

    "Don''t be silly. You''re visiting; we have to give you a tour of the most interesting places in Medford," I said, glancing sideways at the disbelief on my friend''s face next to me.

    "Really?" Cam asked incredulously, clenching his fists and flexing his arms with excitement.

    ¡°Really?,¡± Georgie murmured next to me.

    "Of course," I replied, discreetly nudging Georgie''s side and smiling at the excited guy from Missouri.

    "I''m going out, Kiddo. If you want to go to someone else''s house, let Mom or Dad know first," I said, pushing Gabe''s head lightly as I passed him, receiving a simple thumbs-up in response, just like with Bob.

    "Let''s go get Brock and Alan," Georgie said with a degree of pleading as we got to ''Debbie.''

    "Obviously," I responded, moving the passenger seat so Cam could climb into the back of the car.

    With Brock and Alan now in our group¡ªDavid had left town to visit relatives¡ªthe interaction with Cam was initially somewhat awkward. But as time passed, Brock, who had basically just met Cam, got used to the other robust teenager, focusing mainly on teasing Georgie because we were hanging out with his uncle, who was only a couple of years older than him.

    We gave a quick tour of the interesting areas of Medford¡ªnot many¡ªbefore heading to the mall where many of the stores were closed due to the specific date. Fortunately, the store that sold happiness in cups remained open, allowing me to drink a chocolate milkshake.

    Like that, the remaining days of the week went by, hanging out with our friends present in the city, with the addition of Cam, visiting many places to pass the time.

    Before I knew it, it was Sunday, and we were all outside, loading our luggage into the trunk of Bob''s horrible yellow van.

    "Are you all sure you have everything you need? Not forgetting anything?" Mom asked worriedly, seemingly for the tenth time that day.

    "We have everything," Gabe, Teddy, and I responded quickly in perfect unison, used to Mom''s repetitive question.

    "Last chance to use the bathroom," Bob said, finishing with the last suitcase and closing the trunk. "I won''t stop on the way until we get to the airport," he warned, seeing no one say anything.

    Inside the car, once everyone was in their seats, Mom turned around from the passenger seat.

    "Alright, let''s do a headcount," Mom said excitedly. "PJ," she called out seriously.

    "Here," I responded, straightening my back and playing along.

    "Teddy," Mom continued, nodding to me.

    "Here," Teddy responded, imitating me and straightening her back as well.

    "Gabe," Mom said, nodding seriously to Teddy.

    "Yeah," Gabe responded, completely focused on his little video game, without lifting his head.

    "Okay," Mom said, disappointed that she couldn''t continue the game. "Bob, baby, and Amy," she said, pointing to Bob, then to her belly, and finally to herself.

    "Ready?" Bob asked, adjusting his rearview mirror and receiving nods in response. "Let''s go," he continued, starting the car and reversing out of the yard.

    "Bob, I need to go to the bathroom," Mom said, embarrassed, immediately after the car was out of our yard, putting her hand on Bob''s arm.

    Closing his eyes for a moment and sighing loudly, Bob drove the car back into the yard, letting Mom quickly get out of the car.

    "Me too," Teddy and Gabe said in unison, getting out behind Mom a second after she was out of the car.

    "Thanks, champ," Bob said, turning in his seat and looking me seriously in the eyes.

    "No problem, Dad," I assured, smiling at him.

    The trip to the airport went without any problems. Listening to music and each of us distracted in our own world, the journey felt much quicker than last time.

    While helping Bob unload the luggage from the trunk, I remembered the last time I went to Boston. "Where are we staying, by the way?" I asked, knowing the Thomases'' house only had the guest room available, which wouldn''t be enough for my whole family.

    "Ah, Dr. Thomas is a friend of a hotel owner. Apparently, he owed him a couple of favors, so he gave us a two-week stay," Bob explained calmly.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Okay," I said, lowering the last suitcase from the trunk. It wasn''t surprising that Dr. Thomas knew a hotel owner, but knowing his background, I doubted the hotel would be as trivial as Bob made it sound.

    "I''ll go park the car. I''ll be right back," Bob said, getting back into his horrible van.

    "Hurry up, Dad. I want to get on the plane already," Gabe said anxiously, struggling to carry his own suitcase.

    "There are still a couple of hours before we board the plane, kiddo," I said, taking the suitcase from my brother''s hands and ruffling his hair.

    Without Bob, the rest of the family entered the airport. Teddy and Mom took seats on one of the benches, waiting for Bob, while Gabe and I visited some of the shops inside, especially Gabe, who was excited to see everything about the ''airplane waiting area.''

    With Bob back, we quickly passed through security checks. The only thing left was to wait for our flight to be ready for boarding.

    Everyone had their own things to keep them entertained. Gabe, Mom, and Bob each had a different form of reading material, from insect magazines to romance novels and comic books.

    Teddy carried a disposable camera, taking pictures of everything she found interesting, including a photo of all of us taken by a kind stranger.

    Out of pure habit and self-discipline, I began to observe the people I could see in the airport.

    People returning from places with more tropical climates, judging by the tan lines on their faces. Some arriving from colder climates, given the extra clothing they carried. I could also immediately distinguish those traveling for leisure or work, those traveling alone, the drunk ones, and those who had obviously taken medication to avoid getting air sick.

    Watching the people around me, studying their behaviors, and making diagnoses that couldn''t go beyond a theory based on visible symptoms, time flew by. Before I knew it, our flight was being called for boarding.

    "Is it time?" Gabe asked excitedly, leaving aside some snacks and another comic book he had bought, adding them to the small pile he was carrying.

    "Yeah, don''t forget your hand luggage," Mom said, equally excited, as she stood up, forgetting her own hand luggage as she walked towards the check-in desk.

    Bob, carrying his own hand luggage and Mom''s, as well as all the tickets, followed his wife and son, who had practically run to the boarding line.

    "Enjoy your flight," the woman checking the tickets said kindly, especially smiling at Gabe, who was still excited about getting on a plane.

    "Wow, look at this, it''s like a bus that flies," Gabe said, walking down the airplane aisle, touching the seats as he passed by, impressed.

    "This is us. Go to the window, kiddo," I said, pushing Gabe when we reached our seats, taking his hand luggage from him to stow it, along with mine, in the overhead compartment.

    Mom and Teddy were also together. The only one sitting alone was Bob.

    "PJ, something''s wrong," Gabe said suddenly, worried, from his seat.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked, surprised, looking for any malfunction in his seat.

    "The window won''t open. How am I going to touch the clouds now?" Gabe asked, pressing his hand against the airplane window.

    "Oh buddy, I''m sorry, but it seems that on this plane the windows can''t be opened," I said, ruffling my brother''s hair.

    "Oh," Gabe said, looking sad for a second, making me feel bad for keeping the joke going. "My seat reclines," he said immediately afterward, forgetting about the window thing and reclining his seat as much as possible. Fortunately, there was no one in the seat behind him.

    "Be careful with that, kiddo. If someone sits there, you''ll have to give them space for their legs," I said, sitting in my own seat and showing him what I meant.

    "Oh, ok," said Gabe, adjusting his seat and nodding while looking out the window at the runways with great interest.

    Several minutes later, the boarding finished, and the plane began to move for takeoff.

    "Don''t worry, takeoff doesn''t take long," I said calmly, seeing how Gabe was starting to tense up in his seat, putting my hand on his head.

    "I''m not scared," said Gabe, squeezing the armrests of his seat tightly with his eyes closed.

    "Well, I am," I murmured, ruffling my brother''s hair once more.

    "Really?" Gabe asked, surprised, finally opening his eyes.

    "Of course I''m scared. After all, I''m not the one controlling the plane," I assured the boy, "but I also know that whoever is flying this plane spent a lot of time learning how to do it."

    "But you don''t look scared," Gabe said, puzzled, momentarily forgetting his fear of the plane''s movement.

    "That''s because when I''m scared, I just think of something that makes me feel brave," I told the little boy, watching as he absorbed my words. "Look, we''re already up in the air," I pointed out the window behind him before he could continue asking questions. We were already flying.

    "Oh, look at that, the cars look so small," Gabe exclaimed excitedly, pointing out the window, thrilled by the new experience.

    As before, the flight went without any issues. Four and a half hours after taking off from the airport in Texas, we arrived at the snowy runway of Logan International Airport.

    All my family members, bundled up for the cold of the East Coast, grabbed our luggage from the conveyor belt before walking towards the airport exit.

    Bob had mentioned something about getting a taxi service, but as soon as we reached the hotel reception, I could see the elderly couple who had welcomed me the last time.

    "PJ!" Dottie exclaimed joyfully, hitting Dr. Thomas on the arm to get his attention as she spotted me.

    "Oh, you must be Amy and Bob," said Dr. Thomas kindly, approaching us as we moved towards them.

    "Ah, Don, move aside," Dottie said, pushing her husband slightly and pulling Mom into a hug. "I''m so glad to finally meet you. Welcome to Boston," she continued, hugging Bob as well. "You must be Gabe, as handsome as your brother," she said, walking up to Gabe and tenderly cupping his cheeks. "And you must be the beautiful Teddy. I hope you liked the clothes your brother brought home. I helped choose many of those outfits," she said, pinching Teddy''s cheek.

    "Yes, thank you very much," Teddy responded, smiling slightly, a bit uncomfortable with the woman''s hands on her face.

    "Oh, nonsense, come here," said the elderly woman, pulling my sister into a hug and laughing.

    "PJ, I read the article. Congratulations, I''m sure it will be the first of many," Dr. Thomas said, smiling brightly after chatting with Mom and Bob for a while. "I even showed it to Josef. He''s as excited as I am for you to come study."

    Amused that it took only a few words for Dr. Thomas to push the idea of studying at Harvard, I shook the man''s hand. "Thanks, Doctor, it was a surprise for me."

    "Nonsense," Dottie said, finishing greeting my family and pulling me into a hug, pushing her husband aside again. "It was to be expected. If it hadn''t happened now, it would have been soon."

    "Dottie is right," Dr. Thomas said.

    "I always am," Dottie said arrogantly before Dr. Thomas could continue.

    "Yeah, you do," Dr. Thomas agreed, smiling affectionately. "It was only a matter of time before someone in a newspaper noticed you. Wherever you go, you leave people amazed. Every time we go to his restaurant, Alessandro asks about you first."

    "So it''s obvious there will be many more articles," Dottie affirmed sweetly, placing her hand on my cheek.

    After the greetings, the Thomases led us out of the airport. Dottie, chatting happily with my sister, who quickly lost her discomfort, and Dr. Thomas, chatting cheerfully with Mom and Bob about the advantages of studying medicine at Harvard, according to what I could overhear.

    "They''re very excited to meet us," Gabe murmured to me, struggling with his luggage.

    "Yes, the Thomases are some of the kindest people I know, Gabe. You''ll like them," I assured my brother. "Besides, they have a butler. Do you know what his name is?" I asked, seeing Gabe''s eyes widen in disbelief.

    "No," Gabe replied, surprised, but I could sense the longing in his voice.

    "Yes, they have a butler named Alfred," I said, amused by my brother''s reaction.

    "I''m going to love it here," Gabe said, walking faster.

    Finally, outside the airport, the Thomases led us to the parking lot where a seemingly brand-new SUV was waiting.

    "We bought this SUV a few days ago. I need to get used to it," Dr. Thomas said a bit embarrassed as he searched for how to open the trunk.

    For some reason, I felt like they had bought the SUV just for our visit.

    When the trunk finally opened, Bob and I carefully arranged the luggage, making sure not to damage the expensive-looking finishes of the new SUV.

    "We''ll take you to your hotel, let you settle in, and then we''ll go to dinner. PJ knows where, but the hotel reception will know how to call a taxi for you," Dr. Thomas said calmly.

    "Thank you so much for helping with the accommodation," Bob thanked the couple once again.

    "No need to thank us, Bob. I told you, Wilfred is a friend of mine, and he owed me a couple of favors. This is nothing," Dr. Thomas assured.

    "Anyway, at this time of year, it would be impossible to find accommodation on such short notice. I hope it''s not an inconvenience for your friend," Bob continued.

    Amused, Dr. Thomas snorted. "Don''t worry, Wilfred couldn''t care less. He was happy to offer me a couple of rooms," Dr. Thomas said casually.

    The drive to the hotel took a few more minutes. As we drove through the streets of Boston, we saw dozens of luxurious-looking buildings. A moment later, Dr. Thomas began to slow down in front of one of those buildings.

    It wasn''t just any hotel.

    "Dr. Thomas," Bob said nervously, looking out the window, equally surprised. "This doesn''t look like a ''normal'' hotel."

    Laughing again, Dr. Thomas waved his hand dismissively at Bob''s concern. "Don''t worry about that."

    Suddenly, the car door was opened by a hotel worker. "Welcome to the Tipton Hotel," the man said kindly with a strong foreign accent, helping Mom out of the SUV.

    My siblings, parents, and I looked at the obviously expensive structure in front of us. A huge red carpet was under our feet while another small fleet of workers helped unload the luggage from Dr. Thomas''s trunk. "Please come in; it''s very cold outside," the same man with the foreign accent said, pointing to the hotel door.

    Following the amused Thomases, we climbed the steps of the hotel''s fa?ade, ready to enter behind the elderly couple. Gabe, excited by the hotel''s appearance, was the first to approach the door. Before my brother could get close enough, a pair of blond children came running from the side, accidentally bumping into Gabe.

    "Ow, sorry," one of the two children, who were surprisingly twins, said, embarrassed.

    "It''s okay," Gabe assured, opening the door and quickly entering the hotel. Apparently, his excitement to see the building''s interior was greater than the pain.

    "Wow," the other child, who hadn''t apologized, said, surprised to see Teddy. "Hello," he added, stretching the word pretentiously.

    "Oh, hi," Teddy, who was taking pictures of the building''s exterior and surroundings, responded with a small smile, making the boy smile even more.

    Yeah, no. "Hi," I said, stepping in front of Teddy, frowning slightly at the boy.

    "Hi," the boy replied nervously, stepping back along with his brother, who also retreated. A second later, they quickly entered the hotel.

    "Good job," Bob murmured as he passed me, opening the hotel door and still looking around with concern.

    Inside, the hotel was no less luxurious than the exterior. With art on all the walls, a beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby, and decorations fitting the season, it looked like a place where a Christmas movie would be filmed.

    "You must be the Duncans," a black man, impeccably dressed in his uniform, approached us with a broad smile. "My name is Marion Moseby. I''m the manager of the Tipton Hotel in Boston. Welcome," Mr. Moseby said, opening his arms slightly while maintaining his friendly smile.

    "Mr. Moseby, we''re back," the same kids we encountered at the door ran up to greet him as soon as he finished his introduction and speech, causing him to lose his smile immediately.

    "Zack, Cody, good to see you again," Mr. Moseby greeted the children with a much more forced smile, obviously not happy.

    "PJ," Gabe said, coming to my side and pulling my arm, dragging me away.

    "What''s up, gremlin?" I asked.

    "Can I have a chocolate?" Gabe asked, leading me to a small shop inside the hotel lobby and pointing to one of the candies in the store.

    "Yeah, sure," I assured my brother. "Hi," I called out to the cashier, who was surprisingly reading a school book during the holidays.

    "Yeah?" the girl said, setting her book aside and forcing a smile, seemingly a bit annoyed at being interrupted. "Hi,"

    she added energetically, suddenly enthusiastic upon seeing me and Gabe.

    "Hi," I repeated, amused. "Can I get three chocolate bars?" I asked, pointing to the candy on her counter and smiling at the nervous girl.

    "You can have whatever you want," the girl said dreamily, smiling.

    "Sorry?" I asked, incredulous at the girl''s lack of shame. Maybe it was an East Coast thing.

    "I mean, is that all you need?" she quickly corrected herself, embarrassed.

    "Yes, thanks," I replied, amused by her behavior. "I''m PJ, by the way. I''ll be staying with my family for a couple of weeks," I said, introducing myself after paying for the chocolates and offering my hand for a handshake.

    "Maddie," she said, taking my hand nervously and smiling.

    "Nice to meet you, Maddie," I said, smiling. Maddie, still smiling broadly after a few seconds, didn''t let go of my hand. "I need my hand," I gently reminded her.

    "Oh, sorry," she said, immediately letting go of my hand, embarrassed.

    She was funny. "See you," I said, walking away with Gabe, who was happily eating his chocolate.

    "Thanks," my brother said, holding his chocolate. "Were you flirting with her?" he asked suddenly and shamelessly.

    "Eat your chocolate," I said, pushing his head playfully as we rejoined our family.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    Yeah.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 62

    Writing this chapter, I remembered several comments emphasizing the ''plot hole'' that the MC does not question his second chance. From before I began writing the novel, I had planned for it to be a process of blind acceptance, not a divine gift, not ROB, nothing¡ªjust something that happened.

    From the beginning, I planned that all the growth outside the academic world of the character would occur in his second chance. Let me explain:

    In the first chapter of the novel, I tried to make it clear that the protagonist has/had absolutely no social skills because he focused his entire life on studying medicine. Since he has no memories of his second life as "PJ" prior to the transmigration, he would learn from ''zero''. That decision, looking back now, might have been quite hasty, but to be honest, I don''t think I would change it.

    I feel quite disgusted having to argue the following, because the idea of an adult man trying to relate interpersonally with minors would never, in real life, be acceptable under any circumstances. But (just writing that ''but'' made me feel quite sick, like some Instagram pervert) the protagonist, being as inexperienced as he is, is basically a teenager with the knowledge (academic) and pain (emotional) of an adult man. By fully accepting his new opportunity in life, he only has the option to grow to be a ''real'' adult man like a normal teenager.

    I think the only thing, that differentiates my novel from that other ''group'' of transmigration, isekai, etc., ''novels'', where an adult transfers to the body of a teenager/child, is that my protagonist has no idea of how to ''take advantage'' of his maturity in the social realm.

    I look forward to reading your comments about it. Without further ado.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "So, three sets of keys for the VIP plus suite," when I arrived with my family, I heard the hotel manager, Mr. Mosby, say cheerfully. "If you need anything, calling zero is a direct line to the lobby. Again, we give you the warmest welcome to the Tipton Hotel," he added, bowing slightly before returning to his workstation.

    "VIP plus?" With the keys in hand, Bob incredulously asked Dr. Thomas, who was there smiling happily.

    "Oh, it''s just any suite," Dr. Thomas affirmed, obviously lying. "Wilfred assured me there''s no problem," he said, patting Bob on the shoulder.

    "It sounds quite expensive; I don''t want our stay to result in a significant loss, especially at this time of year," Bob nervously said, still shaking the keys in his hand.

    "Not at all, the VIP plus is nowhere near the best this hotel has to offer. As I said, it''s just any suite," Dr. Thomas affirmed once more, and for some reason, lied again. "Bob, I assure you that your stay at this hotel, even if you lived here for the rest of your lives for free, would not affect Wilfred Tipton''s profits at all," he declared confidently.

    "All right," Bob agreed after a moment of thinking about it, nodding stiffly.

    "Perfect, then Duncan family, we''ll see you in a couple of hours at Rosso''s. We''ll leave you to get comfortable," Dr. Thomas said, hugging Dottie, who was smiling happily.

    After saying goodbye to the Thomases, we followed one of the hotel workers with a cart of our luggage up in one of the elevators to dozens of floors.

    "VIP plus," the hotel worker said with a professional smile, carefully placing the luggage on the floor.

    "Here you go, thank you very much," Bob said kindly, handing a bill to the man and dismissing him.

    With our luggage in hand behind Bob, we waited for the man to open the door.

    When Bob opened the suite door, he stood under the frame, seemingly unable to enter.

    "Bob, honey, what''s wrong?" Mom asked worriedly, as the man was robust enough to block the view of everyone standing behind him.

    "This is not just any suite," Bob said nervously, finally entering the suite.

    The place resembled the Thomas''s house in a compact version; the decorations seen just in the living room of the apartment looked expensive enough to be afraid of walking near them.

    "Cool, I call this room," Gabe said, unconcerned with any of the decorations, running with his luggage toward one of the bedrooms.

    "Obviously, that''s my room; Mom and Dad have the main one, and you and PJ have the double," Teddy said, following Gabe, trying to match his speed.

    "If you fight with each other, you''ll be punished for the two weeks," Mom said seriously, warning my two siblings.

    "My head hurts," Bob said carefully, taking a seat on an impossibly clean sofa.

    "Oh Bob, you heard Dottie and Dr. Thomas; it was a favor from the hotel owner, who is their personal friend. You don''t have to worry about it. We''re on vacation, enjoy it," Mom said lovingly, taking a seat next to her husband.

    "Yeah Dad, it''s a vacation; don''t worry about this. You can even see it as Harvard recruiting," I joked, also taking a seat on the amazingly comfortable couch.

    "Yeah," Bob said, chuckling. "Dr. Thomas really wants you to study with him."

    "Really?" I asked, pretending to be surprised. "I hadn''t realized."

    "He just took a liking to you," Mom said, lightly tapping my shoulder and laughing. "It''s sweet."

    "I know," I assured Mom. "If it bothers you that much, Dad, we can pay for the stay," I seriously reminded the man. It wouldn''t be a sound financial strategy; I still had several thousand dollars in my account outside my investment portfolio, but it could be paid for.

    "Bah," Bob immediately dismissed my words, waving his hand erratically. "Don''t start with that; that''s your money, and you''re going to spend it on college first."

    "I''m sure I can pay for the two weeks in this hotel and still afford my college, Teddy''s, Gabe''s, and the next one''s," I said, pointing to Mom''s abdomen, amused.

    "No," Bob calmly said, closing his eyes. "It''s fine; I''ll just thank for the gift."

    "All right," Mom exclaimed cheerfully, standing up. "Let''s organize our luggage so we can officially start this vacation," she continued, pulling Bob up to stand.

    Bob, carrying Mom''s and his own luggage, started walking behind his wife toward the main room of the suite. "We''re on the East Coast; I need to look for the Gypsy Moth and the Longhorn Beetle," Bob said, forgetting his concern about the hotel''s price and getting excited.

    "That sounds amazing, honey," Mom said, not really paying attention to what Bob was saying. She stopped a few steps away from the room where Gabe and Teddy were arguing, apparently about the room itself. "Gabe, let your sister organize her room, and you organize yours with PJ."

    "Mom," Gabe''s frustrated voice was heard from the room where my siblings were arguing, while Teddy was mocking him.

    "You heard me," Mom ordered, annoyed, with authority in her voice. "PJ, what kind of restaurant are we going to? Dr. Thomas didn''t explain anything."

    "It''s where they took me last time, Rosso''s. It''s Italian and fancy," I explained.

    "I see. Teddy! Did you bring a nice dress? We''re going to a fancy restaurant," Mom shouted, immediately receiving an excited squeal from Teddy, who agreed right away. "Help your brother choose good clothes, please," Mom said to me with a smile, while walking to her own room and closing the door behind her.

    "What is ''good clothes''?" I asked no one in particular, as I was alone again.

    Taking my luggage, I entered the room Gabe and I would share for the rest of our days in Boston. Like the rest of the suite, it was elegant and spacious, even with a private bathroom. "I chose that bed," Gabe said from the spacious closet while carelessly arranging his clothes, pointing to the bed closest to the window.

    "Fine by me," I assured the boy, placing my suitcase on the other bed to unpack comfortably. "Ah, use that shirt and some more formal pants," I said, seeing the clothes my brother was awkwardly trying to hang.

    "What? Why?" Gabe asked, puzzled, looking at the garment.

    "We''re going to have dinner with the Thomases. Mom wants you to be formal, or she''ll give you away to another family," I warned, jokingly. "Also, take a bath; you stink," I said, theatrically covering my nose.

    Sniffing his armpits, Gabe frowned. "That''s not true, you stink," he said. "If you go back to your girlfriend at the store, she''ll vomit," he added condescendingly, smiling.

    "Oh, really?" I asked, quickly grabbing the boy and hugging him under one of my arms to keep him from escaping. "Say it again, I didn''t hear you well the first time," I playfully ordered, keeping his head under my armpit.

    "No," Gabe exclaimed, trying to free himself from me.

    "Come on, I won''t let you go until you repeat it," I arrogantly said, lightly rubbing his head.

    "Okay, you smell good. It was a joke, it was a joke," Gabe said desperately, pushing my torso as soon as his head was free. "One day I''ll grow up, and you''ll be the one under my arm," he threatened, frowning.

    "No matter how much you grow, it''s a universal law that you''ll never beat me," I proclaimed theatrically, raising my arms as if I were a villain from the cartoons Gabe used to watch.

    Gabe, starting before me and doing it carelessly, finished much earlier organizing his section of the closet. "Are you

    still not done, old man?" Gabe sarcastically asked, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in his towel.

    "Old man?" I asked, taking off my shirt while the boy just smirked. "Your head is still wet, kiddo," I said, throwing my freshly removed shirt at his head, amused to see him quickly remove the garment.

    "Eww, gross," Gabe exclaimed, quickly throwing my shirt on the floor in disgust, shaking his still-wet hair.

    "Get ready fast, I''m going to take a bath," I said, entering the bathroom, ignoring his incredulous expression.

    Several minutes later, the rest of my family was ready to leave. "I like that shirt, you should wear it more often," Mom said, adjusting one of the sleeves while checking the outfit Gabe and I had chosen.

    The shirt I was wearing was part of the clothes I had bought so many months ago at the Medford mall. Thanks to the constant exercise accompanied by the diet Case had planned for me, I could feel how it pressed against my arms and chest, fortunately not enough to be uncomfortable.

    "I need to buy new clothes," I said, slightly stretching my arms and feeling the fabric resist a bit.

    "Yes, now that you mention it, it''s a bit tight," Mom said, stepping back a few steps and studying the shirt.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "That, or PJ just got bigger," Bob added playfully, squeezing my shoulder proudly.

    "I think it looks good," Mom commented, forcibly fixing Gabe''s hair, "Everyone, take your coats," she added, giving one last quick inspection to everyone before grabbing her own coat and walking out of the suite.

    Back in the hotel lobby, Mom and Bob approached the reception to request transportation to Rosso''s.

    At that moment, from one of the hallways on the side of the hotel lobby, Maddie, the store clerk, now without her uniform, was carrying a backpack, once again distracted, this time reading a small notebook. "Hey, is it your time to leave?" I said, leaning slightly to get her attention.

    Lifting her eyes from the notebook, completely surprised, she said, "Hi," quickly lowering her notebook again and smiling. "Ye- yeah, it''s my time to leave," a couple of seconds after greeting me, apparently remembering my question, she finally responded, slightly embarrassed.

    "Too bad, I was planning to buy more chocolate," I said playfully, smiling.

    "For someone who buys so much chocolate, it sure looks like you don''t eat it," she said sarcastically, pointing at my body.

    "Wow!" I exclaimed, crossing my arms in front of my chest, pretending to be offended, "For your information, I think my favorite drink is chocolate milkshakes."

    "Chocolate milkshakes, really?" Maddie asked, laughing in complete disbelief.

    "What? They''re great," I defended myself, this time genuinely a little offended.

    "All right, they''re great," Maddie admitted, still smiling and rolling her eyes. "You know, I know a great place that serves chocolate milkshakes not far from here," she said a moment later, avoiding looking at me, a bit nervous.

    "That sounds pretty good," I said, making the girl immediately lift her head, "but I''m going to have dinner with my family. Maybe another day?" I added quickly.

    "Oh yeah, that sounds pretty good," Maddie said, imitating my words from a moment ago, amused.

    "PJ," at that moment, Mom, who was at the hotel door, shamelessly shouted, "the car is here," while the hotel manager, Mr. Mosby if I remembered correctly, helped her put on her coat.

    Walking out of the hotel accompanied by Maddie, who was already leaving, I found Mom getting into a luxurious car, apparently owned by the hotel, with Bob''s help. "So, see you later," I said slowly, smiling at the now strangely paralyzed Maddie, who was staring at the car.

    "Oh, yeah sure," Maddie quickly regained her composure, nodding stiffly, "see you later," she added quickly, nodding before walking swiftly in the opposite direction.

    "All right," I said to no one in particular, puzzled by the girl''s sudden change in attitude.

    "Allow me," the same bellboy who had received us when we arrived said, opening the door as I approached the car.

    "Thanks, Esteban," I said, reading his name on a badge on his chest as I got into the car''s back seat.

    "Who was she?" Mom asked, pretending to be completely uninterested as soon as I got into the car.

    "She''s the store clerk from the hotel. She was reading a book when we arrived, and PJ flirted with her," Gabe responded immediately, smiling on Mom''s lap before I could say anything.

    "She''s cute," Mom said approvingly. "Are you planning to go out with her somewhere?" she asked again, pretending not to care about the answer, causing a slight headache to resurface.

    "Does the hotel have its own transportation service?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

    "The Tipton hotel''s transportation is a special service for VIP guests," the driver, who had previously been having a conversation with Bob, responded kindly.

    "So, what''s her name?" Mom asked, ignoring the man''s response, which would usually have been enough to get her attention.

    The ride to the restaurant was full of questions to which I honestly had no answer. Even Teddy, who had apparently only brought a roll of film to the dinner and didn''t want to waste it, asked her own questions.

    "We''ve arrived, Duncan family," the driver, who had been talking with Bob about sports and recent city events throughout the ride, finally said, parking the car in front of the restaurant I had visited last time.

    "Thanks, Marcus," Bob said, leaning out the open passenger window and offering the driver, Marcus, a bill as a tip.

    "You''re welcome, Mr. Duncan. Do you need me to wait outside the restaurant?" the man asked, gratefully accepting the bill.

    "No need, we can take a taxi back. Thank you very much," Bob assured the driver, who nodded professionally, started the car once more, and drove off in the direction we came from. "I feel inadequate," Bob murmured sarcastically, shaking his shoulders.

    I could understand what he meant; all the special treatment felt completely out of sync.

    As we all entered the luxurious restaurant together, I could see in the expressions of the other members of my family, except for Gabe, what must have been my face the first time I entered the place. Yes, I understood completely.

    "How about the Thomas table?" I hesitantly asked the same woman who had worked the day I visited the place with the Thomases behind the small counter in the restaurant''s lobby.

    "Oh, you must be the Duncans. Yes, the doctor and the doctor are waiting for you. This way, please," she said, once again picking up menus from her small counter and guiding us into the restaurant.

    Mom, not counting Gabe, was the first in my family to snap out of the trance caused by the restaurant''s decoration and presence. As was typical of my mother, she began to walk proudly, obviously excited to be in such a place.

    "Duncan family," when we approached one of the tables near one of the restaurant''s walls, long enough to accommodate all of us, Dr. Thomas, who was with Dottie, stood up excitedly, opening his arms.

    "Come here, sweetheart," Dottie immediately took my sister''s arm carefully and sat her next to her after greeting everyone, immediately engaging in a conversation with Teddy.

    "So, have you heard anything from any universities since the article was published?" Dr. Thomas asked, incredibly in the same tone Mom used for her ''disinterested'' questions while reading one of the menus.

    "Oh, just from East Texas Tech," Mom responded without finding anything strange in Dr. Thomas''s question, causing the man to cough suddenly.

    "They basically invited PJ as a visiting student. He has all the privileges but isn''t formally in any program," Bob explained, understanding Dr. Thomas''s interest.

    "Oh, I see," Dr. Thomas said cheerfully, "if you lived here in Boston, PJ would have the same treatment at Harvard," he insinuated, clasping his hands in front of his face, immediately receiving a punch on the shoulder from Dottie.

    "Stop pestering PJ," the older woman scolded him seriously. "You''re not a recruiter," she reminded him as if they had already discussed it, making Dr. Thomas lower his head slightly, embarrassed.

    "It''s okay, we understand perfectly," Mom said, amused, assuring Dottie, "Dr. Thomas is just looking out for PJ''s future."

    "You see, honey, they understand," Dr. Thomas said playfully, smiling arrogantly at his wife, an action for which he earned another weak punch on the shoulder.

    "Do my eyes deceive me?" suddenly, from behind us, the voice I immediately recognized as the restaurant owner''s resounded loudly in the place, "PJ," Alessandro said joyfully, approaching our table with open arms.

    Seeing the robust restaurant owner approaching, I could only prepare for what was about to happen as I stood up to greet the noisy man.

    "Welcome back to my humble restaurant," the excited man said, squeezing my shoulders tightly and pressing his lips twice on the sides of my face. "Who are these people?" he asked cheerfully, patting my shoulder.

    "This is my family," I said, looking at my family''s incredulous faces, Gabe''s in particular. "My father, Bob Duncan, my mom, Amy, and my siblings, Teddy and Gabe," I said, pointing to each member.

    "Oh, the Duncan family, of course. Come here," he said, repeating the extravagant greeting with Bob, tousling Gabe''s hair, while with Mom and Teddy, he simply kissed the back of their hands, an action Mom obviously accepted, flattered.

    After his extravagant introduction to the rest of my family, Alessandro, being the complete extrovert he was, chatted briefly with Mom and Bob, mainly about my actions during my last visit and the article published in the newspaper.

    "Absolutely a hero, it''s no surprise at all that he''s recognized," the restaurant owner exclaimed joyfully, seemingly unable to control the volume of his voice, drawing even more attention from the other customers.

    "That''s our PJ for you," Mom said proudly, matching the man''s energy.

    "To celebrate my friend PJ''s rise to fame, the bill will be on the house," Alessandro declared nonchalantly, patting my shoulder. "Order whatever you want, it''s all on the house," he continued, shaking Bob''s hand again. "I have to leave, but don''t hesitate to call if you need anything," he added, bidding everyone farewell before leaving.

    Fame? I wasn''t famous.

    "For the second time in a single month, PJ is treating us to dinner," Dr. Thomas said, amused.

    The dinner continued, and like last time, the food was absolutely delicious.

    After bidding farewell to Alessandro and thanking him for the meal, we left the restaurant.

    Teddy, who seemed to have grown fond of Dottie, who clearly shared the sentiment with my sister, was happily chatting with the older woman about her life.

    Gabe, who had brought his little video game console, was still playing, completely absorbed in the machine, being guided by Bob who simply moved the child''s head to prevent him from bumping into anything on the way.

    Mom was exhausted and understandably so, walking alongside Bob, using him for support.

    "You have something on your mind," Dr. Thomas, who was behind the main group, calmly stated.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled.

    "When I asked you how things were with Gregory, you had difficulty responding," he explained, his hands in his pockets, looking at the now dark street.

    "It''s fine, really," I unintentionally sighed for a second as I replied.

    "You know, from the moment I decided you would be one of my ''prot¨¦g¨¦s,'' I knew I would do anything to help you become a better you," he admitted slowly, smiling at the interaction between my sister and his wife. "And part of that is listening to you, and if my experience helps, advising you. I''m a very old man; I have a lot of experience. Take advantage of it," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

    "I''m afraid I made a bad decision in the care of a patient," I said after a deep sigh, prompting Dr. Thomas to nod slightly, silently inviting me to elaborate.

    Giving Dr. Thomas a quick summary of Sister Augustine''s case, I explained my decision to attack the woman''s feelings and beliefs to get the truth.

    "So, basically, you''re afraid of becoming Gregory," he said with a smile after I finished explaining.

    "Well, yeah," thinking it over, that was essentially correct.

    "Go ahead, PJ and I are going to talk a bit; we''ll catch a taxi to the hotel," Dr. Thomas said to the rest of the group, as the valet had already brought the Thomases'' car around to take us to the hotel.

    With some doubt on their faces, my parents got into the Thomases'' car a moment before it departed towards the hotel.

    "Let''s walk a bit, PJ. I''m old but I can still move my legs," he said sarcastically, winking as he walked through the beautifully decorated streets of Boston.

    "When Gregory was my student," Dr. Thomas finally said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "he had a problem similar to yours, but completely opposite," he added, amused.

    "Yes, I can imagine," I nodded, amused.

    "Gregory House, like you, was a prodigy in medicine. He understood it, and still does, like no one else I''ve ever seen¡ªat least until a couple of months ago when I received your letter," Dr. Thomas said, smiling emotionally.

    "It''s just book knowledge," I said, a bit embarrassed by his words.

    "I''m not talking about that, no. Your research work was impeccable, yes, but in every letter, I could read someone in love with medicine, eager to learn, and willing to fail while trying. That, that is understanding medicine," he said, pointing at me with a wide smile.

    After his words, we walked in silence for several seconds.

    "Gregory, with his incredible ability to understand medicine, forgot another essential part of being a doctor: human emotion," he continued theatrically. "He saw every patient as a list of consequences and symptoms to treat, and it reached a point where it was counterproductive for him, so he decided to change his approach. He no longer focused solely on the hard data representing the patient. He understood that certain emotions also affected the outcome of a diagnosis: anger, shame, sadness, and above all, fear. As with everything in medicine, he understood it almost immediately and discovered that all these emotions, in one way or another, always lead to the same thing," he said, raising a finger.

    "Lies," I said, understanding where Dr. Thomas was going with his narrative.

    "Lies," Dr. Thomas nodded, repeating. "Since then, his method has worked. ''Everybody lies,'' he told me when he solved a difficult case we were dealing with," Dr. Thomas said, smiling sadly, surely reminiscing. "At that moment, I told him something that I''m going to tell you," he added cryptically, stopping for a moment.

    Stopping next to him, I seriously waited for his words.

    "Mark Twain once said that the two most important days in a person''s life are the day they are born and the day they find out why," he said seriously. "You, PJ, have already gone through those two days," pointing at my chest, he affirmed. "You know you were born to be a doctor. Now, how will you build your life to reach that point?" he said, starting to walk again.

    "Did you tell House this?" I asked after a few minutes, finally processing Dr. Thomas''s words.

    "There''s more, but now what I''m going to tell you will be different. Back then, I was wrong," he said, smiling proudly.

    "Wrong?" I asked, puzzled, not by the idea of the doctor admitting he was wrong, but by how proud he was to say it.

    "I told you, older, more experienced," Dr. Thomas explained arrogantly, smiling. "What builds us throughout life are the decisions we make, and we must be absolutely sure to make those decisions before making them, or we might regret it. That''s what I told Gregory. Now I know it was incomplete."

    After passing a group of buildings, we came across a park. Taking advantage of a bench, Dr. Thomas sat down, seemingly a bit tired from walking.

    A few seconds after sitting down, small snowflakes began to fall from the sky. "What builds us throughout life are the decisions we make," he said, nodding confidently, "but above all, the reasons we make them. Maybe you made a ''bad'' decision in hurting your patient," he said with apparent indifference, "but at the end of the day, the reason you made that decision in your heart was entirely for your patient''s well-being."

    As more snow fell, painting the park white, I could feel my eyes slightly welling up with tears.

    "You will always encounter difficult decisions in our line of work," he continued, leaning back on the bench, avoiding looking at my face, obviously trying to give me space. "But if you make those decisions with a good reason in your heart, you don''t have to question whether what you did was right or wrong. It was simply a decision."

    We spent several moments sitting in the snow on the park bench. "My butt is freezing," Dr. Thomas suddenly joked, taking me by surprise and making me laugh uncontrollably. "Bah, you laugh but it''s true. Help me up, I''m old," he said, pretending to be annoyed, laughing with me.

    "Thank you, doctor," I said after helping him to his feet as we continued walking through the park that I now recognized. We had walked all the way from the restaurant to the park in front of the hotel.

    "I told you, you''re my prot¨¦g¨¦," Dr. Thomas said, puffing out his chest with pride. "By the way, you still have to be absolutely sure before making any decision. Reason and logic are the only things that separate us from animals. Use them."

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    I hope you don''t think PJ''s moral dilemma in making difficult decisions is solved. I have many more things planned that will test the character, so stay tuned.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 63

    Thank you all very much for your feedback in the notes of the previous chapter, it helped me infinitely since we are very close to a very important point in the development of the story, I plan to give spoilers, but if there has to be one it will be a "gift".

    Let''s look at those theories, without further ado.

    Enjoy

    ---

    When we finally returned to the hotel, a few minutes after walking through the park, the streets were already lightly covered with snow, and the temperature had dropped several degrees for obvious reasons.

    "I know it was my idea, but if I ever suggest walking the streets when it''s cold again, drag me into a taxi for hot coffee," Dr. Thomas said as he entered the hotel, feeling the sudden change in temperature with the building''s heating, putting his hand on my shoulder with amusement.

    "Ah, Dr. Thomas," a moment after we entered the hotel, the manager, Mr. Mosby, who surprisingly seemed to work all day, smiled broadly as he approached with his hands clasped in front of his abdomen, "Allow me to take your coats. Mrs. Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan are currently enjoying the live show by Carey Martin. Allow me to guide you."

    The show featured a blonde woman singing various songs really well. Together with my parents and the Thomases, I enjoyed the show while the adults drank, all except for Mom, and chatted happily, occasionally asking me questions or requesting that I narrate a story. Teddy and Gabe, on Mom''s orders, had gone up to the suite to get ready for bed even before Dr. Thomas and I arrived at the hotel.

    "I think it''s time for us to leave before the streets get even more filled with snow," Dottie said, patting Dr. Thomas''s leg lightly during one of the artist''s breaks. He checked his wristwatch.

    "As always, you''re absolutely right, dear. It''s time for us to go," Dr. Thomas said, standing up and helping Dottie a moment later.

    "Then, we''ll see you on New Year''s at our house. In the meantime, enjoy Boston," always cheerful, Dottie said as she bid farewell to my parents.

    Since it was quite late at night and it had snowed, the Thomases wisely decided to use the hotel''s transport service, leaving one of their cars in the hotel''s care.

    Seeing Mom and Bob comfortably enjoying Mrs. Martin''s show, I also decided to head up to the suite.

    Inside the luxurious apartment, my siblings, who were theoretically sent to get ready for bed, were in the living room watching a Christmas movie on the huge television.

    "Oh, it''s just you, PJ. You scared me for a moment," Gabe said, jumping up from his comfortable position on the sofa next to Teddy when I closed the suite door.

    "Yeah, it''s just me. When the ads come on, go change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, kiddo," I said, pushing his head to take a seat on the sofa between him and Teddy.

    "All right," Gabe said slowly, exasperated, as the movie paused for commercials, getting up.

    Teddy, who fortunately was already in her pajamas, changed her posture, lying completely against my side. "Are you okay?" she asked, not turning to look at me, focused entirely on the television where a Red Sox commercial was playing.

    "Mom said you really needed to talk to Dr. Thomas, and Dottie said Dr. Thomas was going to help you," Teddy said softly, pressing her head against my side.

    "Oh, Teddy Bear, I was just a bit worried about something I did at the hospital, that''s all. Dr. Thomas helped me see it from another perspective, and now I feel much better," I assured her calmly, stroking her hair.

    "Are you sure?" Teddy asked in a murmur, seemingly not fully trusting my calmness.

    "I promise," I said seriously. "It''s nothing you need to worry about," I added, and that seemed enough to finally calm Teddy.

    "Has the movie started again?" Gabe returned, running to the sofa with his pajama top half on.

    "Not yet," I replied, helping him adjust his shirt.

    "Great," Gabe said, completely focused on the television, lying on the sofa with his feet up on me.

    With Teddy lying on one side and Gabe''s feet on the other, I didn''t have much choice but to stay still in the center of the sofa.

    The movie continued and ended. Before I knew it, I was engrossed in another movie, and my two siblings, obviously exhausted from the trip and dinner, fell asleep. Teddy used me as a pillow, and Gabe pressed his feet against my face.

    The suite door opened a moment later. Mom and Bob entered, laughing and embracing, surprised to see us. "PJ, what are you doing here?" Mom asked, whispering since Teddy and Gabe were snoring lightly.

    "We were watching a movie," I explained quietly.

    "Aw, look at that, Bob," Mom said sentimentally as she closed the door behind them, approaching the living room and stopping Bob by taking his arm.

    I could certainly understand that the scene in front of them was cute, but I hadn''t been able to feel my arm for several minutes, and for some reason, Gabe kicked in his sleep.

    "Let me help you with your sister, champ. Can you carry Gabe to his bed?" Bob asked, approaching with a smile.

    "No, wait, where''s Teddy''s camera?" Mom asked nervously, stopping Bob and anxiously looking around the suite. "Got it," she exclaimed excitedly but still quietly, loading film into the camera before taking a photo. "There we go," she said, satisfied, placing the camera carefully on a small table.

    Finally feeling my side free when Bob gently lifted Teddy, I slowly lowered Gabe''s feet to avoid waking him, allowing me to stretch and try to restore circulation to my arm.

    After placing Gabe in his bed and Mom tucking him in, I got ready for bed too, as I was also tired.

    The next day, a bit later than I usually wake up outside of vacation time, I was ready with Gabe to go for a run. Mom and Teddy had left several minutes earlier, apparently to get a massage at the hotel spa, while Bob had gone out much earlier, excited to find some kind of insect in the park.

    "Can we run in the park?" Gabe asked, unusually excited, as we warmed up lightly while descending in the elevator.

    "Sure, why not?" I responded, lightly pushing the kid''s head.

    "Cool," Gabe said, smiling cheerfully.

    The hotel lobby was relatively empty, with just a couple of hotel workers and a few other guests. Thanking the doorman¡ªEsteban, if I remembered correctly¡ªGabe and I stepped out into the chilly air.

    "Oh no, it''s cold," Gabe said immediately upon stepping outside. He wasn''t wrong; despite wearing thermal clothing, the cold wind was still biting at our faces.

    "You''ll get used to it after a few minutes once you warm up," I said, hugging Gabe''s head and dragging him along the sidewalk to the crosswalk leading to the park.

    The run in the park was pleasant after the first few minutes as we got used to the cold air entering our lungs.

    "It''s much more fun to run in a park than in our neighborhood," Gabe said, soaked in sweat and likely some melted snow, after we finished our usual run and entered the hotel.

    "Yeah, I like it better too," I replied, now feeling a bit warm inside the heated hotel. As I took off my heavy thermal jacket, I could feel my sweaty sports clothes sticking to my torso¡ªan unpleasant sensation.

    The lobby was livelier than it had been a few minutes earlier, with more guests and workers present. Among them was Maddie, who, from her small shop across the lobby, was incredulously looking in our direction. Feeling a bit uncomfortable being stared at so intently, I raised a hand to greet her. She seemed to snap out of a trance and quickly ducked under her desk.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Told you, you stink. She could smell you from there," Gabe said arrogantly, having witnessed the girl''s reaction.

    "Oh yeah?" I asked Gabe, raising my eyebrows. He laughed and ran away without looking, avoiding my grasp.

    The kid only took a couple of steps before bumping into someone.

    "Please, no running in the lobby," Mr. Mosby said, forcing a smile after Gabe had bumped into him.

    "Watch where you''re going, Gabe," I reprimanded, helping him up. "Sorry, Mr. Mosby," I added, pushing my brother''s head slightly to prompt him to apologize.

    "I''m sorry," Gabe said quickly, a bit embarrassed.

    "It''s alright, no harm done," Mr. Mosby said slowly, his eye twitching involuntarily. "I see you went for a run," he added, suddenly taking a deep breath. "I can recommend the treadmill in the gym."

    "Thanks, but we wanted to see the park," I explained, making the man nod kindly.

    "I understand perfectly. Well, don''t let me keep you any longer. Excuse me," he said professionally, bowing slightly before heading to his desk.

    "He''s strange," Gabe said quietly once Mr. Mosby was far enough away.

    "No, he just enjoys his job," I said, pushing Gabe''s head a bit exasperated. "Don''t run without looking where you''re going. It could have been dangerous," I reprimanded again as we waited for the elevator.

    "He just appeared there," Gabe murmured, avoiding my gaze when the elevator doors opened.

    "Maybe if you opened your eyes¡ª" I started to say, but like a bad joke, I accidentally bumped into someone exiting the elevator. "Oh, sorry," I said, managing to catch the girl''s arm before she fell.

    "Can''t you see where you walk?" asked an Asian girl dressed extravagantly in pink, a little taller than Gabe, looking annoyed as she rubbed her forehead, which was likely sore.

    "I''m so sorry. Did I hurt you?" I doubted I had caused any significant harm¡ªher head had at most bumped my chest¡ªbut I could see she was holding a small mirror in her other hand, which she was obviously using to look at herself.

    "Duh, of course, you hurt me," the girl said, clearly annoyed, finally moving her hand from her forehead and falling silent upon seeing me. I could see her eyes quickly wandering over my torso.

    With her injury now visible, I inspected it. There was a mark consistent with the edge of the handheld mirror, but it wasn''t pronounced enough to be truly concerning.

    "It doesn''t look like it''ll leave a mark, but if you want to be sure, you can use a cold compress," I assured her, smiling.

    "I think you broke her," Gabe said, amused.

    "Are you okay?" I asked the girl, lightly tapping the back of my brother''s head.

    "Of course I''m fine, never been better," she quickly recovered, striking a strange pose and adjusting a small bag in her hand.

    "I''m glad," I said, relieved. "Again, I''m so sorry about that. I wasn''t paying attention," I apologized once more.

    "Oh, that?" she asked dismissively, waving her hand. "No worries," she added, placing her hand on my arm seriously.

    I could feel her shamelessly squeezing my bicep slightly. There was something about East Coast girls.

    "Well..." I said, slowly removing her hand from my arm and discreetly pushing Gabe into the elevator. "I''m glad you didn''t get hurt," I added, smiling, waiting for her to step out of the elevator completely.

    Since the girl was standing right where the elevator doors closed, there was an awkward moment of silence where she just stood there, smiling broadly as if she had no concerns.

    Fortunately, I wasn''t the only one waiting for the elevator doors to close. Pretending to cough, Gabe caught the girl''s attention, who immediately exclaimed, "Sorry, I''ve been quite rude. I''m London," she said, raising her hand and showing only the back, eyes closed, still smiling.

    "Ah, PJ," I said, taking her hand and forcing it into a weak handshake before letting it go, making London put on a strange expression.

    "And I''m Gabe. Can we go up now?" my brother asked, completely shameless, wiping the sweat from his eyes with a bit of exasperation.

    "Oh yeah, sorry," London said, a bit embarrassed, stepping back, "See you later," she added with a broad smile as the elevator doors closed.

    "Yeah," I said, smiling forcibly as the elevator doors closed.

    "That was awkward," Gabe said, amused.

    "Yeah," I agreed.

    Suddenly, inside the same elevator, a small bark made Gabe and me jump in surprise.

    "Is that a dog?" Gabe asked, surprised. In one corner of the elevator, a very small, fluffy dog dressed in pink was sitting.

    "Either that or a very furry rat," I responded sarcastically, picking up the little animal. "Hello, little buddy, let''s see what''s your name," I read from a small, seemingly expensive dog collar with a name tag. "Ivana Tipton," I read, sighing, knowing I would have to return it to its owner.

    "Ha! Like the hotel," Gabe exclaimed, amused.

    "Yeah, like the hotel," I said, noticing the dog''s clothes were strangely similar to London''s outfit, at least the same shade of pink.

    When the elevator reached our suite''s floor, I opened the door for Gabe and returned to the elevator to bring the dog back to its owner.

    Back in the lobby, I found London and Maddie engaged in an argument. It was surprising to see a fight between a staff member and a guest without anyone trying to stop it, not even the hotel manager.

    "You can''t call dibs, even if you could, I saw him first!" Maddie shouted.

    "I''m sorry," I said, trying to interrupt the girls'' argument as I approached.

    "Wait a moment," London said exasperatedly, raising her hand toward my face without looking at me. "It doesn''t matter who saw him first; the first to call dibs has dibs, it''s in the phrase!" London yelled back at Maddie.

    "Is this your dog?" I said, putting the dog between the two girls, fortunately stopping their shouting.

    "Ivana!" London exclaimed happily, taking the dog in her hands. "Where have you been?" she asked seriously, holding the dog in front of her face as if she expected it to respond.

    "You left her in the elevator," I said, catching the attention of both girls.

    "PJ!" they exclaimed in surprise, synchronizing as they saw me.

    "Oh PJ, thank you so much for saving Ivana''s life," London said quickly, coming to my side and speaking in a forced sweet tone as she hugged my forearm, then arrogantly smiled at Maddie.

    Oh, now I understand.

    "I didn''t save her life. I don''t think her life was ever in danger," I assured her, patting the hands that were tightly gripping my forearm, hoping she would let go.

    Frowning for a second at seeing London pressed against my arm, Maddie said, "No, London is right, you saved Ivana''s life. Thank you," mimicking the other girl''s actions and running to grab my other forearm.

    As each girl held my forearms tightly, their nails dug in enough to cause a bit of pain. I could see them sending silent threats, glaring at each other.

    Looking for help from the hotel staff, I made eye contact with Mr. Mosby, who for some reason pretended not to see what was happening and immediately turned his gaze to furiously clean his desk.

    "I just came to return the dog," I said, trying to break the battle of glares, looking at each girl. "Now, I don''t know if you noticed, but I''m quite sweaty," I added, hoping for a reaction of disgust.

    "Yeah, we know," the two girls responded again in sync, annoyed but not taking their eyes off each other.

    There''s something wrong with these girls.

    "Well, I was going to take a bath. Do you plan to join me there?" I asked, shaking my arms slightly.

    "Yeah," they both responded immediately, completely shameless.

    Yes, there is definitely something wrong with these girls.

    "Okay, you two need to resolve your conflict. I need to take a bath," I said, raising my arms and surprisingly easily lifting the girls off the ground for about half an inch until they let go of my arms. "Have a good day. Ivana," I added, slightly bowing to the dog that was now calmly sitting on the floor, and took my leave.

    On my way to the elevator, I shook my head in disappointment at Mr. Mosby, who, noticing my look, tried to nervously ignore it by obsessively cleaning the small reception bell.

    The lobby was silent since the girls had stopped shouting. Surely, aside from the girls'' screams, no one else had been talking. When the elevator doors opened once more, I checked to ensure there was no dog inside before entering and pressing the button for our suite floor. A moment later, when the doors were closing, the shouting began again.

    I didn''t even understand why they were fighting. Calling dibs on another person made no sense; nothing could be forced... unless, they wouldn''t attack me, right?

    With thoughts like that, I reentered the suite. Gabe, whom I had left a few minutes ago, was sitting on the sofa in the living room with wet hair, obviously having just finished his bath.

    "Did you really clean yourself?" I asked incredulously. It was impossible for him to have bathed so quickly.

    "Yeah, head, armpits, feet, butt, and forehead," Gabe said, changing TV channels without paying me any attention.

    Not wanting to bother further on the topic, I shook my head and walked to our room to take a proper bath.

    After a relaxing hot bath and completing my routine, I found Teddy sitting next to Gabe, looking extremely bored watching TV. "Where''s Mom?" I asked, ruffling my sister''s hair, avoiding her annoyed hand.

    "She''s taking a bath. Her room has a tub," Teddy said enviously, managing to stop my hand while rearranging her hair.

    In my parents'' room, which was somewhat messy with clothes on the floor, I knocked on the bathroom door. "Mom," I said without opening the door.

    "Yeah?" completely relaxed, almost sounding like she was about to fall asleep, Mom responded.

    "I''m going downstairs with Teddy and Gabe for breakfast. Do you want to join us?" I asked, leaning against the bathroom door.

    "Oh no, you guys go and spend some quality time. Your dad and I... I mean, I''ll order room service," Mom corrected herself, laughing slightly at her mistake as another voice chuckled with her. Bob was there. Oh no.

    "Okay,"I quickly backed away from the bathroom door with shivers down my spine and a bit of disgust, noticing the clothes on the floor. There were Mom''s clothes and the boots Bob used for work, along with another pile of clothes "then I''ll see you guys-mom later" I added, correcting myself immediately.

    Quickly leaving the room and closing the door behind me, I smiled forcibly innocently at my siblings, who looked at me strangely. "Shall we go for breakfast?" I asked, clapping my hands, making Gabe stand up immediately.

    "It''s about time. I didn''t know what I had to do to get some breakfast," he said excitedly, walking quickly towards the suite door.

    "Aren''t we going to call Mom?" Teddy asked, puzzled, walking towards me, near the door of our parents'' room.

    "Oh no, she said she''ll wait for Dad and that they''ll order room service. Don''t worry," I said, taking my sister by the shoulders and guiding her to the door.

    "But¡ª" Teddy began, trying to change direction, but my experience with Maddie and London a few minutes ago had shown me I had enough strength, "No PJ, put me down!" I carried Teddy over my shoulder and quickly walked out of the suite, where Gabe was eagerly waiting for breakfast.

    I didn''t need my sister to be traumatized for life.

    Fortunately, Mom was already pregnant... oh, disgusting mental images.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With this being the third chapter of Boston, I plan to do at least 2 more depending on the situation.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 64

    So, a little late this chapter...

    For the first time since I started writing the novel, I found myself in a block; I didn''t know how to continue with the development of Boston (I hadn''t thought it through, and that was the problem). Usually, I prepare in advance what I want the next chapter or chapters to be in a handwritten outline, but I got into a very long path for this ''sub-arc'' in Boston. So what I did was write 9k words :D

    This chapter is possibly one of the most difficult I have written, and I apologize if it fails in quality.

    By the way, someone commented that basically my work is just a bad copy of MTL Daily American Drama (where they know I based the structure of my story) due to the lack of the system. Literally, "the system was the driving force that made the original go at a good pace." I would like to hear your opinions.

    By the way, if you didn''t know, in DAD the MC has a system that warns him he will die if he doesn''t save lives, so he decides to become a doctor. But in reality, there is no real interest in saving lives; it is purely selfish, which makes sense if he doesn''t want to die, but he has a certain disdain for people (racism). Also, the system makes him OP by giving him IQ points (obviously...) by ''befriending'' intelligent people.

    ---

    Lowering Teddy from my shoulder only when the elevator finally arrived, "don''t do that again," said Teddy, annoyed, tapping my shoulder as if she had hit it hard, though I barely felt a thing.

    "Yeah yeah, let''s go, I''m hungry," I urged her to enter the elevator, ignoring Teddy''s furrowed brow.

    "Come on, I''m starving too," exasperated Gabe, who immediately entered the elevator, said, repeatedly pressing the lobby button.

    "If you break that button, we''ll have to sell you to the hotel to pay for it," I warned Gabe seriously, stopping his hand. "Even then, I doubt it would be enough," I added, smiling exaggeratedly.

    Back in the hotel lobby, instead of decreasing, the number of people had increased; every previously available seat was taken, and I could even distinguish people speaking in other languages.

    "Oh hey, young Duncans," Mr. Mosby greeted with his ever-present smile, opening his arms to his sides cheerfully. "Is there anything I can assist you with?" he asked professionally, clasping his hands gently in front of his chest.

    "Oh, we were just going to have breakfast, Mr. Mosby, thank you," I replied, pushing Gabe''s head, who seemed exasperated, to move forward.

    "Of course," Mr. Mosby opened his hands again cheerfully. "At the Tipton, we have the best continental breakfast in Boston. Please, don''t let me interrupt," he kindly pointed to the hotel''s dining area.

    To reach the hotel''s dining area, we had to pass in front of Maddie''s store. Seeing me heading her way for the second time that day, she quickly hid behind her counter.

    "What''s her problem?" annoyed, Teddy asked, noticing Maddie''s odd behavior.

    "I don''t know, maybe she dropped something," I said amusingly, speaking loud enough for the hidden girl to hear.

    Breakfast was quite good, although having dined the previous day at an incredible restaurant, any meal would have been overshadowed.

    "Do you guys want to do something for the rest of the day?" I asked my siblings after we finished breakfast, hoping to avoid going up to the suite again.

    "I think there''s an arcade," Gabe immediately interested, storing away his handheld video game console.

    Seeing Teddy silently asking if she wanted to go to the arcade, my sister nodded without paying much attention.

    "All right," I stood up and walked with my siblings out of the dining area. Once again in the lobby, Maddie immediately disappeared behind her desk as if she had an automatic defense system.

    "Wait a moment," I said to my siblings, sighing incredulously once again. I walked towards the small store. "After the third time, this doesn''t work anymore," I joked, leaning on the store counter. I could perfectly see behind the desk and thus Maddie crouching in hiding.

    "Oh, PJ, I didn''t know you were there," Maddie raised her head, smiling sheepishly. "I was just, um, looking for this!" She quickly improvised, grabbing a small piece of trash at her feet and standing up, leaning to the side of me on the counter. "My workspace has to be impeccable," she added with false modesty, smiling.

    "I totally understand," I chuckled, nodding seriously. "So, did London and you resolve your issue?" I raised an eyebrow, seeing Maddie immediately close her eyes in embarrassment and bring her hands to her face.

    "Forget you heard that," Maddie slowly said with her eyes still closed. "Can you forget it too?" She asked hopefully, opening one eye.

    Chuckling, before I could respond, the same boy who had tried to flirt with Teddy the day we arrived, along with his twin brother, approached the store counter. "Hey sweet thing," leaning next to me, completely ignoring my presence, the boy greeted Maddie flirtatiously.

    "Zack," Maddie smiled rigidly, greeting the boy back.

    "So, what were you doing?" the boy smiled widely, arrogantly moving his head.

    "We were just talking," I responded before Maddie could say anything, finally catching the boy''s attention. "Hi kid," I smiled at the boy with raised eyebrows.

    "You!" startled again, the boy stumbled backward, tripping over Gabe who was distracted playing with his handheld console. "Oh, sorry," quickly moving off Gabe, the boy apologized. "Hey! You''ve got a GameBoy, cool!" Completely forgetting the previous situation, he exclaimed enthusiastically, starting a conversation with Gabe.

    "Kids, uh," the other of the twins approached me jokingly, chuckling with mischief in his voice while the other boy and Gabe animatedly discussed the console.

    "You really want to play with the GameBoy?" amused by the serious boy''s attitude, I immediately affirmed, noticing how much attention he gave to the small device.

    "Yeah," the excited boy immediately nodded, approaching Gabe and his brother.

    "PJ, can we go now?" Teddy, who for some reason was standing a few steps away from me, staring fixedly at Maddie, asked, crossing her arms and swaying on her feet.

    "Yeah, sure," puzzled by Teddy''s sudden behavior, I responded, looking between Maddie and my sister.

    "Excuse me," walking past the counter without taking her eyes off Maddie, Teddy said disdainfully.

    "What''s going on?" ignoring Teddy''s attitude toward Maddie for the moment, I said. "Come on, Gabe," pushing my brother''s head slightly to get his attention as he was leaning in playing games with the two twins.

    "Oh yeah, can Zack and Cody come with us?" turning off his console to the disappointment of the other two kids, Gabe asked, apparently quickly forming a friendship with the twins.

    "Sure, but only if you behave," I said seriously, staring menacingly at the more rebellious-looking of the two boys, making him step back again. It was amusing to see him so scared for no reason.

    "See you later, sweet thing," smiling at Maddie, I said amusedly, watching as she lowered her head with her eyes tightly closed, completely embarrassed.

    "Hey! That''s mine," offended, the boy who had been previously scared to look me in the eyes surprisingly stared at me and exclaimed.

    "Sorry, kid," patting the boy''s shoulder, I chuckled as we walked to the hotel''s arcade.

    It was already hard for the hotel to surprise us more, or at least that''s what I thought. When we entered the surprisingly spacious arcade room, it immediately reminded me of the one my siblings and I had visited a couple of times back home, though this one was even bigger.

    "Here, go and play whatever you want," I said to Gabe, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. It would last them long enough to play each game in the arcade once, I hoped.

    "Cool!" the twins, Zack and Cody if I remembered their names correctly, exclaimed in unison upon seeing the bill, and before I could say anything else, along with Gabe, they ran towards a counter inside the place with another employee to get quarters to play.

    While the kids played on the machines, Teddy, who was still standing with her arms crossed and a displeased expression on her face, seemed indecisive about something.

    "What''s up?" I asked Teddy seriously.

    "I don''t like her," avoiding my gaze, Teddy said, annoyed.

    "Maddie? Why?" surprised, I asked, knowing Teddy had barely interacted with the girl.

    "What if she''s like Regina?" finally looking at me with a furrowed brow, Teddy asked.

    "Like Regina?" I chuckled. Teddy shouldn''t know anything about her, at least not more than what little she knows because of me.

    "Everyone at my school knows her, and Bianca told me about what she did at your school. Besides, she''s the reason you got beat up," still annoyed, Teddy quickly said.

    "Teddy, I can assure you Maddie is nothing like Regina, at least from what little I''ve gotten to know her," I added, having only spoken with Maddie for a few minutes.

    "I don''t know, I just don''t like her," exasperated, rolling her eyes, Teddy said.

    "It''s okay, you don''t have to worry about it," gently patting my sister''s head, I reassured her calmly. "Besides, we''ll only be here for two weeks, and she''s the closest to my age, so I wanted to make friends with her."

    Still with her arms crossed, my sister sighed annoyed, seemingly not caring about the relatively short time we would spend in Boston.

    "Let''s play some machines, come on," smiling at Teddy, I pleaded lightly. "You owe me a rematch after all," I added, making her uncross her arms as she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

    "Fine, but I wouldn''t call it a rematch; let''s just prove that I''m better," Teddy said arrogantly, walking towards the arcade''s counter.

    Like the last time we had stepped into one of these places, there were very few machines where I could beat Teddy, and at some point while we competed on another machine, the kids also joined us, making a competition on each machine.

    When all the quarters were gone, Teddy had topped the scoreboard with the most points, winning over everyone seemingly with ease.

    "PJ, can I go to Zack and Cody''s suite? They live here," Gabe asked excitedly as we left the arcade, apparently making playdates with the other kids.

    "You''ll have to ask Mom about that," checking the time on my wristwatch, I replied to Gabe, hoping that after a couple of hours Mom and Bob would have finished... whatever they were doing.

    "All right, let''s go ask my mom in our suite," Gabe said excitedly

    to the other kids before they all ran to the elevator together.

    "No running in the lobby," Mr. Mosby called out to the three kids from behind his front desk a moment later, lowering his head in disappointment.

    "PJ," Teddy murmured beside me.

    "Yeah?" puzzled by her sudden demeanor, I asked.

    "Can I have a magazine?" discreetly pointing to Maddie''s stand, Teddy asked with some embarrassment in her tone.

    "Sure, let''s go," I chuckled, walking with her to Maddie''s stand.

    Maddie, like the day before, was sitting with an open book on her counter, completely focused on taking notes from whatever she was reading.

    "The limit does not exist," approaching quietly to see what she was studying, I said, looking at a calculus problem she was working on, causing Maddie to jump surprised in her seat. "Careful, PJ!" Maddie exclaimed as she accidentally threw her pencil in my general direction, luckily missing everything. "What did you say?" quickly adjusting her posture and ignoring the pencil she had just thrown, she smiled and asked.

    "Your problem," pointing to her notes, "your function oscillates between two values, so your limit isn''t defined," I calmly explained.

    Without taking her eyes off my face, Maddie nodded slowly for a few seconds before regaining her composure. "I understand," she moved her hand as if to write in her notes but stopped, apparently remembering she no longer had the pencil in her hand. "I''ll write it down later," she added, closing the book and moving it slowly.

    Unable to help myself at her rigid behavior, I chuckled lightly, leaning once more on her counter.

    "Did you want to talk about something?" Maddie asked, trying again to hide her growing embarrassment, adjusting a strand of her hair slowly as she leaned on the counter.

    "Oh yes, she wants a magazine," I said, pointing to Teddy, who had been silent beside me all this time.

    "Oh, how long has she been there?" Surprised to see Teddy quickly returning to her original posture, Maddie asked nervously.

    "I''ve been here the whole time," Teddy responded forcefully, raising one eyebrow. Despite having spoken to her, I could see my sister was getting annoyed with Maddie again.

    "I''m sorry, I didn''t see you there, I was a bit distracted," Maddie apologized embarrassedly, noticing Teddy''s reaction. "Which magazine do you want?"

    "I want Seventeen," Teddy said, crossing her arms again, causing Maddie to quickly move to hand it over. "I''m going to the suite," Teddy added, holding her magazine, and walked to the elevator without saying anything else.

    "I did something to make her mad, didn''t I?" Maddie asked, watching my sister walk away, defeated.

    "Don''t worry about that, you did nothing wrong," I assured Maddie calmly as I paid her for the magazine.

    "Yeah," Maddie straightened up with a faint smile.

    Walking back to where Maddie had thrown the pencil a few steps behind me and back to her counter, I placed the pencil on her closed book. "Good luck with calculus, ''sweet thing''," I joked as a farewell.

    "Thank you," Maddie said, smiling shyly, picking up her pencil.

    When I returned to the suite, I found the three kids sitting on the couch watching television. "This TV is bigger than our refrigerator!" one of the twins exclaimed excitedly.

    "It is, I measured it," the other twin added proudly.

    "I''m glad, but if you two want to stay here, you have to ask your parents. Gabe, you were supposed to come up and ask Mom if you could go to their suite," I said seriously to the kids; it was important their parents knew where they were.

    "Oh, Mom is taking a nap; Dad said she was really tired," Gabe said calmly without taking his eyes off the TV.

    Too much information, I didn''t need to know that.

    "I heard my name, oh hey champ!" Bob came out of his room completely energetic and cheerful, smiling broadly. "I was thinking now that it''s stopped snowing, I''ll go up to the hot tub. You wanna come?" he asked cheerfully.

    "Dad," pretending to be focused on the TV and avoiding studying the man''s body language further, I greeted. "I''d love to, but I have plans," I quickly responded with a small lie. I didn''t think I could look him in the eye for a couple of hours, even days.

    "Plans?" Bob asked proudly, putting his arm around my shoulder.

    "With Maddie, the girl from the lobby store," I continued rigidly.

    "What!?" one of the twins, separating his attention from the TV incredulously, asked.

    Bob, surprised along with the other people present, looked at the noisy boy intrigued. "I mean, cool," feeling the pressure of people''s gazes uncomfortably, he corrected, making his brother silently laugh.

    "Okay," Bob said puzzled, nodding slowly. "Do you need money?" seemingly deciding to ignore the boy, he asked me.

    "Oh no, don''t worry, just going for some milkshakes," I quickly made up.

    "All right, Duncan genes, man," Bob said happily, laughing arrogantly as he walked towards the suite door. "Kids, don''t break anything, and PJ, good luck," he stopped at the door, warning Gabe and his two new friends who nodded simultaneously without taking their eyes off the TV, except for the excited boy who was looking at me with his mouth open.

    "All right, first we''re going to talk to your parents," I said, pointing to the two twins when Bob left the suite. "And then I''m going with Maddie to see if she wants to hang out," I muttered to myself as I walked to the suite door.

    The kids lived several floors below our suite, without worry, the neater of the two boys, who strangely wore vests with his shirt tucked in, opened the suite door and entered their home. "Mom, we have guests!" the boy shouted.

    "Oh hi," a woman whom I recognized from yesterday''s show came out of one of the rooms, smiling kindly.

    "Pleased to meet you, ma''am," I shook hands with the woman. "My name is PJ Duncan, and this is my brother Gabe," I continued introducing us.

    "Gabe is going to stay to play," the neater of the twins said.

    "Yes, I just came to introduce myself. My family and I are staying in the VIP plus suite," I continued.

    "Oh, I see," the woman smiled kindly. "Don''t worry about your brother, I''ll be here all the time, and in a few hours, Zack and Cody''s nanny will come to look after them," the woman continued cheerfully.

    "I get it now!" suddenly the other twin, who had been staring at me since we left our suite, shouted excitedly. "You''re basically me in a few years," he pointed at me.

    "Cody, what is your brother talking about?" the woman asked, looking at the neater boy, Cody, concerned.

    "Yeah, can''t you see it?" the other boy, Zack, asked incredulously, pointing at me. "We''re only different in haircut, height, and age, which means Maddie is only dating him because he reminds her of me," the boy finished explaining excitedly, smiling broadly.

    "Yeah, no, definitely not," Cody denied vehemently after comparing his brother and me for a few seconds, turning with Gabe. "Let''s go to our room, we have everything," he added completely unconcerned.

    "I just need to cut my hair, do some exercise, and let time take care of my height," Zack muttered to himself, walking behind his brother and Gabe.

    "So are you going out with Maddie?" apparently understanding the situation with his son, Mrs. Martin asked seriously, raising one eyebrow.

    "Well, that''s the plan," I said, I hadn''t actually asked her yet; I just needed an excuse to not have the constant reminder of what Mom and Bob had done.

    "I see," nodding slightly, the woman studied me slowly from head to toe with a furrowed brow. "Don''t make her cry," she finally warned after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, and without saying anything else, she walked back into the room she had come from.

    "Why would I make her cry?" I asked no one again, uncomfortable, and left the small family suite on my own.

    Since I had already gotten myself into a kind of ''date'' with Maddie and everyone knew about it, I just needed to inform Maddie. Once again in the hotel lobby, this time I found the girl arranging merchandise on the shelves of her stand.

    "Hey, sweet thing," I said, watching as Maddie stopped her hands.

    "Please, can you not call me that?" Maddie turned slowly and said.

    "Why? I think it really suits you," I helped the girl by lifting one of the boxes of products.

    "Really?" Surprised, Maddie almost dropped a chocolate bar before managing to place it on the shelf. "Well, yeah, I do work in a candy corner," she joked.

    "Yeah, you do, right?" Laughing nervously, Maddie said, embarrassed, rigidly arranging another candy.

    "So, speaking of work, do you finish at the same time as yesterday?" I handed more candy to her to awkwardly arrange as I asked. I had to ''mention'' that we were going out.

    "In fact, I''m finishing earlier today; I just need to wrap up here," Maddie said, feigning complete disinterest, "why?" she asked.

    "Well, if I remember correctly, you mentioned knowing a great chocolate milkshake place," I moved a box to open a new one, pretending to care.

    "Oh yes, it''s the best chocolate milkshake place in Boston," Maddie exaggeratedly affirmed.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "I just don''t believe you," shaking one of the candy bars slightly with false suspicion, I said.

    "Oh, but I''m telling the truth, what can I do to make you believe me?" Maddie leaned challengingly on her counter.

    "I was thinking maybe we could go today?" I slowly leaned on the counter, allowing my eyes to wander around.

    "Yeah?" Lost in her thoughts, Maddie smiled, asking, "oh yeah! I mean, yeah sure, no problem," she responded excitedly before calming down and again acting disinterested.

    "Perfect," relieved that I hadn''t lied in vain, I smiled at her, "so we have some things to arrange," I picked up other boxes stacked on the floor next to the store counter, rolling up my sleeves.

    "Yes," Maddie smiled slightly, lost in thought. A moment later, coming to her senses and quickly moving to arrange the things I handed her.

    Quickly working together, we finished with all the candy boxes. Maddie closed her stand, picked up her belongings ¡ª a backpack and a bulky coat. "I''m ready, shall we go?" she asked, smiling broadly.

    "Actually, I also need my coat. Do you mind if we quickly go to my suite to get it?" I remembered the street was now covered in snow; I couldn''t go out just in what I was wearing, a thin gray sweater.

    "Sure," Maddie walked calmly beside me to the elevator.

    "So..."

    I said inside the elevator as the doors closed and the machine began to lift us through the hotel floors. The awkward silence increased slowly, along with the number of floors. "What do you usually do for fun around here? I don''t think you just go for milkshakes," I added.

    "Oh, you know, the usual stuff ¡ª some parties, hanging out with friends, more parties, going to the mall," it was obvious that for some reason she was lying. Lowering the volume of her voice with each thing she said, it seemed she was running out of imagination to make up new things.

    Before I could ask her to tell me about all those parties, the elevator doors opened as we reached our destination.

    "Come on," I said, opening the suite door and smiling at her as she entered with me.

    Mom, dressed in a long robe, was sitting next to Teddy, who was still reading her magazine, in the living room with the TV on.

    "PJ, oh, who''s this nice girl?" Mom smiled pretentiously from the couch and asked.

    "Mom, this is Maddie, she works at the hotel. Maddie, this is my mom; she works at a hospital," I said, awkwardly presenting them, not planning on Mom already being out of her room.

    "Pleased to meet you," Maddie straightened up awkwardly, speaking oddly formally.

    "Likewise," Mom responded, not losing her mocking smile.

    "Obviously, you already know my sister Teddy," I pointed to my sister, who for a moment looked up from her magazine, sighing, ignoring our presence again, burying her face in the pages. "So, Maddie and I are going for milkshakes, do you want anything?" I asked, walking slowly with Maddie to the door, discreetly urging her to leave.

    "Uh, yeah," Mom said excitedly, "the biggest strawberry milkshake they have," instinctively placing her hand on her bulging abdomen, she added.

    "Got it, Teddy?" I asked, pointing to my sister. "All right," after a couple of seconds without getting a response, I continued defeated.

    "Do you need money?" Mom asked, leaning slightly, apparently preparing to stand up.

    "Don''t worry, Mom, don''t get up, I''ll take care of it," I quickly assured her, avoiding her getting up. "So, see you later."

    "See you later, Maddie," Mom smiled significantly from the couch, bidding farewell.

    "Likewise, excuse me," Maddie replied a bit nervously, walking out of the room under my guidance.

    "I''m sorry about that, I didn''t know they would be there," I said apologetically, noting the girl''s embarrassment.

    "It''s okay, really. I just hope I didn''t make a bad impression," Maddie replied nervously, waiting for the elevator.

    "Bad impression? Why?" I asked, intrigued.

    "I don''t know your last name. I was so informal with your mother, and now she might think I lack manners because I''m from a ''lower class''. Plus, your sister already hates me," Maddie quickly explained in frustration.

    "Lower class?"

    "I''m sorry, I hadn''t thought about that," the elevator doors opened again. "PJ Duncan," I introduced myself inside the elevator, extending my hand.

    Rolling her eyes playfully, Maddie shook my hand firmly. "Maddie Fitzpatrick."

    "Pleased to meet you, Maddie Fitzpatrick," I said. "I don''t think Teddy hates you. She just... I don''t know," I continued, addressing her concerns.

    "Oh, it''s just a figure of speech, don''t worry. I have twelve siblings, I know how this works," Maddie reassured, amused.

    "Twelve?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yup."

    "Twelve siblings," I murmured in disbelief. "I only have two, with one more on the way. I don''t think I could handle living with nine more."

    "Once you get used to the races for the bathroom, it''s a piece of cake," Maddie joked, assuredly leaving the elevator as we reached the lobby.

    Outside the hotel, like in the morning when Gabe and I went running, the streets were still covered in snow and ice. "So you live in Texas but your family is originally from Colorado?" Maddie asked as we walked through the streets of Boston.

    "In Medford, it''s a small town about an hour and a half from Houston," I explained.

    "That explains why you don''t have an accent," Maddie commented, smiling.

    "Who says I don''t have an accent?" I sarcastically mimicked a Georgian accent.

    "Okay, cowboy, calm down," Maddie joked, attempting to mimic the accent as well.

    "Hey, that was really good," I said impressed, nodding at her.

    "Thanks, I''ve been practicing," Maddie admitted with false humility.

    "Practicing a Texan accent?" I asked ironically.

    "Well yeah, it''s a great tool. You never know when it might come in handy," Maddie replied, suppressing a laugh with mock seriousness.

    "I never thought of that. I''ll take your example," I said, exaggerating a Boston accent.

    "Uh no, you really need a lot more practice," Maddie immediately denied, causing me to feign offense.

    "Oh come on, it wasn''t that bad," I protested.

    "Believe me, it really was. But don''t worry, everyone has to start somewhere," Maddie condescendingly assured, putting her hand on my shoulder.

    Under Maddie''s guidance, we continued walking through different streets of Boston. After a few minutes talking about various things, including the differences in our schools, we arrived at what looked like an alternative caf¨¦.

    "You''re going to love this place. They use reclaimed materials for everything, and the ingredients are organic," Maddie said excitedly, pulling my arm and swinging open the caf¨¦ doors, dragging me along with her.

    Leaving my coat on a hook by the door and helping Maddie with hers, I studied the place, filled with photographs of people in parks and squares dressed in various colors, along with slow, cheerful music playing.

    The place smelled quite unusual, but surprisingly, it was quite crowded.

    "Hey Maddie," the waitress, a girl dressed similarly to the photographs in the caf¨¦, cheerfully greeted Maddie, hugging her. "Oh, and who are these arms?" she looked at me directly, attempting poorly to be discreet, excitedly tapping Maddie''s arm.

    "Michelle," Maddie said, obviously embarrassed. "This is PJ," she slowly opened her eyes widely at her friend, warning her.

    "PJ, nice name," Michelle smiled boldly.

    "Michelle''s not bad either," I said kindly to the playful girl.

    "Oh my, a gentleman, and he''s not from Boston?" she tried and failed again to be discreet, asking Maddie who increasingly avoided the gaze of anyone staring at her, staring at the ground with her hand on her forehead.

    "Texas," I stretched my hand in a belated greeting.

    "Mmm-hmm, nice to meet you," taking my hand and quickly putting her other hand on my opposite arm, pressing it down, she said, "that''s a really nice grip," biting her lip, the strange girl said again boldly.

    Must be something in the water, it wasn''t possible that all the girls in Boston were the same.

    "Okay, enough," Maddie pushed the waitress with her hip, making the latter release my hand and consequently my arm. Embarrassed, Maddie smiled and said, "Michelle, we want two chocolate milkshakes, please," she added slowly and with a warning in her voice.

    "I get it, I get it, no need to chase me out of here," Michelle said, raising her hands playfully as she walked away. "Hope to see you again, PJ from Texas."

    "Yeah," I said slightly uncomfortable, saying goodbye to the girl.

    "Sorry about that," embarrassed Maddie said, pressing her lips and puffing out her cheeks slightly, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

    "Don''t worry, I don''t mind," I assured her as we took a seat at one of the tables. It was definitely strange.

    "She just gets excited very easily," Maddie explained, still slightly embarrassed. "We''ve known each other for years; we volunteer at the same charity."

    "Charity work?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yeah, at a shelter for seniors. We serve them food and help with things," Maddie explained casually.

    "That sounds pretty good. I did a couple of weeks of volunteering back at Medford Hospital, and let me tell you, I''ve given enough sponge baths to hairy men in this life," I joked.

    Laughing with a hint of disgust, "Really?" Maddie asked incredulously.

    "Oh yeah, it''s tough work. That''s why I think everyone should be grateful to nurses."

    "So, what, you want to be a doctor or something?" Maddie played with the decorations on the table, interested.

    "Yeah, a doctor back home took an interest in me because I know a couple of things about medicine. So he offered to teach me, and I go to the hospital every day after school," I explained calmly.

    "A couple of things," Maddie repeated with a slight smile, interested.

    "I study a lot," I nodded strangely, causing Maddie to rest her head on her hands, smiling, lost in thought. "How about you?" I asked, bringing her attention back.

    "Law, environmental law," Maddie replied confidently.

    "Environmental law?" I asked, surprised.

    "Oh yeah, with the way companies keep ignoring our environment, climate change will be irreversible in a couple of years," Maddie said seriously. "I mean, just look outside; an average car emits around three to four hundred grams of carbon dioxide per kilometer traveled. We have to act, and there''s no better way than using the law," she continued, slowly getting angrier.

    "Amen to that!" suddenly arriving with our milkshakes on a tray, Michelle energetically interrupted Maddie''s speech, placing the drinks on the table. "Fuck those companies," she winked at me, walking back to where she came from.

    "I made a speech, didn''t I?" embarrassed Maddie asked.

    "Yeah," unable to resist much longer, I took a sip of my milkshake, clearly affecting Maddie. "And I agree with you, and I''m glad someone like Maddie Fitzpatrick cares enough to do something," I pointed at her, smiling. "By the way, this is really good."

    "I told you so," Maddie smiled, taking a sip of her own milkshake.

    Time passed inside the caf¨¦; having found her environmentalism not strange, Maddie continued to talk about the topic until realizing she had been talking for a long time. She changed the subject, asking about life in Texas and what I learned from House.

    "So you''re like a disease detective?" summarizing, Maddie asked, widening her eyes with amusement.

    "That''s a way to put it," I chuckled, amused by the concise but accurate summary.

    "That sounds cool. What''s the best ''case'' you''ve been involved in?" intrigued, drinking the last of her milkshake, Maddie asked.

    "I can''t give you too much information, but a patient with larvae in the brain," I slowly said, enjoying the shock on Maddie''s face.

    "Larvae? Like worms?" disgusted, Maddie asked in a lowered voice.

    "Yup, neurocysticercosis is a parasitic infection of tapeworm larvae," I explained.

    "Tapeworms? How can anyone get infected with tapeworms?" incredulous, Maddie continued.

    "Usually from eating pork," I added, noticing how Maddie imagined the situation with disgust.

    "I''m never eating pork again in my life," the girl declared.

    "You just have to be careful with pork, cooked at the right temperature. It''s serious, but easily preventable with proper care," I assured her.

    "You guys want anything else?" Michelle, who apparently was attentive to the state of our drinks, noticing that Maddie''s milkshake was finally empty, asked.

    "Oh no, thanks," Maddie lightly pushed her empty glass forward.

    "For now, nothing, thanks," I handed over my own long-empty glass. Somehow, the milkshake had disappeared completely.

    For several more minutes,

    Maddie and I continued chatting inside the caf¨¦; it was easy to find almost any topic fun, and like with the environmental topic, the girl had a clear opinion on many other topics, surprisingly ahead of her time.

    When I noticed, the street was starting to darken. Calling Michelle, I ordered the milkshake for mom and the check.

    "Don''t worry, I''ve got this. After all, it''s my fault we came here," I assured Maddie, preventing her from trying to take out money.

    "Thanks," Maddie quickly said, smiling slightly embarrassed.

    With an excessively large biodegradable strawberry milkshake in my arms, I walked back to the hotel with Maddie.

    "So you have another job at the hotel?" surprised, I asked.

    "Yeah, I''m a nanny. Do you remember the twins?" raising her hand approximately to the height the two children shared, Maddie asked.

    "Zack and Cody, yes, my brother stayed playing with them," I immediately understood Mrs. Martin''s warning.

    "Yes, them. I''ve been their nanny since they arrived at the hotel less than a year ago," Maddie explained calmly.

    "They seem like good kids," I commented, looking at the decorations on the streets. Due to the date not being far from Christmas, there were still hundreds of thematic lights.

    "Yeah..." Maddie said, not sounding entirely convinced.

    As we continued our way to the hotel, Maddie told me about different adventures that the obviously energetic children had been on.

    "So Cody, the smart one, almost won a girls'' beauty contest?" amused, I asked.

    "Yeah, the best part is that he decided to leave the contest, making Zack compete in the final instead," Maddie laughed at the memory.

    "That''s funny, but I hope my brother doesn''t get involved in any of their ''adventures,''" I said, silently thanking the hotel doorman for opening the door. We had arrived once again.

    "Well..." pointing to a strange figure in the lobby, Maddie laughed.

    At the reception desk, Gabe was accompanied by a strangely shaped figure covered in an excessively long coat and a hat, talking to Mr. Moseby.

    "I assure you, Mr. Moseby, my brother hurt his throat this morning when we went out running, and we want any WWF rental you have," I silently heard my brother say.

    The strangely deformed figure had the shoes of a child, and from the shape of the "torso" of the person in front of me, it was obvious that it was really a child on the other''s shoulders.

    "So to be clear, your older brother, present here," noticing my presence, Mr. Moseby kindly smiled, pointing at the figure in front of me, "who has hurt his throat, as the only other person with privileges in your suite apart from his parents, wants to get any WWF rental we have?" the man repeated.

    "Correct," without any shame, surprisingly skilled at lying, my brother said.

    I understand, is that what young Duncan wants?" Mr. Moseby asked again, pointing to the covered figure and maintaining his smile, making whoever was at the top of the human tower nod.

    "Please, Mr. Moseby, call me PJ," I said, having seen enough and smiling at the obviously amused man, taking the three kids by surprise.

    "PJ, hold on a moment, if you''re there, then who are these two?" Gabe quickly exclaimed again, without any shame, pointing to the other two kids covered by the coat.

    "Let''s see who they really are," Maddie, who was also entertained by the situation, said seriously.

    "It''s Zack and Cody!" Gabe pretended to be surprised, exaggeratedly pointing to the kids, who were one on top of the other, smiling shyly.

    "He would''ve gotten away with it if it weren''t for you meddling kids," the base child of the human tower, whom I now recognized as Cody, slowly said, maintaining his embarrassed smile.

    Unable to help but chuckle, the kid had made a reference to the Scooby Doo cartoon, and I had understood it.

    Proud to see that his joke had worked, Cody was a bit less worried, forgetting that he still had his brother on his shoulders, he moved his body trying to pose.

    "Careful," I said, moving to catch Zack, who was falling, accidentally knocking over a table behind us with an expensive-looking vase, causing it to wobble and finally fall. "Whoop!" Still holding Zack in one arm, I managed to stretch to grab the vase.

    "Wow, you''re really strong," Zack, oddly clinging to me, said, impressed.

    "Thank you," I said carefully, placing the vase and the child back where they were safe.

    "Excellent catch, PJ," Mr. Moseby said, extremely relieved, halfway climbing his own desk.

    "It''s nothing; I couldn''t let it fall; it would''ve been quite dangerous for his health," I assured the man.

    "Oh, yes, Zack too," Mr. Moseby said, noticeably offending the child, stepping down from his desk embarrassed.

    "Yeah... back to the important stuff," ignoring the implications of what Mr. Moseby had just said, I said, "what you did was wrong, kids."

    "Yes, identity theft is not a joke, millions of families suffer every year," Mr. Moseby, who moments ago seemed on the verge of a heart attack, said seriously.

    "Yeah, not cool, guys," Gabe said disappointedly, crossing his arms and shaking his head beside me.

    "You''re not getting away, kiddo," pushing my brother''s head to stand next to the other children, I said, "I think you need to learn not to steal other people''s identity, what do you think, Mr. Moseby?"

    "Well, PJ, I think there might be some snow that needs shoveling in the hotel garden tomorrow," Mr. Moseby said, pointing to the entrance door, emphasizing kindly on my name. Once again, it had started snowing, fortunately this time I wasn''t outside to freeze.

    "I think Mom and Dad will completely agree with that; it seems we won''t be going for a run tomorrow; you''ll be busy," I said to Gabe, who immediately lowered his head defeated.

    "Mrs. Martin will agree too," Maddie said sinisterly, putting her hands on Zack and Cody''s shoulders.

    "Agree with what?" dressed and apparently ready to give her show, Mrs. Martin asked seriously from the lobby side, immediately sure that the children had done something.

    "Ah, Miss Martin," Mr. Moseby said, smiling broadly and starting to narrate his children''s behavior and consequently the punishment offered.

    "Sounds fair enough, shoveling some snow for trying to fool Mr. Moseby; congratulations, kids, it seems you got a job for tomorrow," Mrs. Martin said, stroking her children''s heads.

    Defeated, the twins nodded.

    "How did it go?" completely unabashed, Mrs. Martin took Maddie''s arm, asking, nodding her head towards me.

    "Oh, it went quite well," taken aback by the suddenness of the question, Maddie replied slightly embarrassed.

    "Good," Mrs. Martin said, staring at me slowly.

    "Okay..." a bit nervous because the woman''s emotionless face kept staring at me, "I think we''re going to dinner; see you later?" trying to ignore the woman, I asked Maddie, who happily nodded.

    Saying goodbye to the other people present, after agreeing on a time for the kids to shovel, Gabe and I slowly walked back to the elevators. As I walked with Gabe, I could feel Mrs. Martin''s gaze on my back.

    "That was awkward," inside the elevator, going back up to our suite, Gabe said with complete unconcern, "you weren''t planning on telling Mom, were you?" he asked, smiling.

    "Ha!" I exclaimed amused, patting my brother''s shoulder.

    Mom, like Mrs. Martin, agreed with the punishment, thinking it was appropriate.

    Ordering room service for everyone, we had dinner, "we need to go grocery shopping for the rest of the two weeks; we can''t be eating out all the time like this," Mom said worriedly, looking at everyone''s dinner while drinking her comically large strawberry milkshake.

    After dinner, since the hotel had its own gym with showers, Bob, Gabe, and I prepared change of clothes to go upstairs, "can I call Zack and Cody? I promised they could come," Gabe asked Bob, who nodded calmly after a few seconds.

    I could hear Gabe asking to be connected to the Martin''s suite a few seconds before he began talking energetically and hanging up shortly after.

    The hotel''s gym was surprisingly well-equipped, although unlike our home gym, any other gym with more than three machines would fall under the same definition.

    Gabe was excited to see so many machines, asking and trying to use each one, "what''s this for?" he asked, pointing.

    "They''re bars and pull-ups," I explained, carefully releasing the rowing machine and letting Bob sit down, "we''re doing this, so if you want, you can try it."

    "All right," excited, Gabe said as he gracefully climbed slightly on the machine, taking the bar.

    "Good," watching Gabe struggle to pull up a couple of times, I said, "but now try to do it more controlled," remembering how Case did it, I mimicked his movements.

    "Ah, it''s easier said than done; can you do it?" dropping from the bar, Gabe asked.

    I hadn''t tried it before, seeing how Case always did it, it certainly might seem easier than it really was, but he was Case.

    Taking the bar and bending my legs to be fully hanging, controlling my breathing, I pulled and surprisingly managed to rise, slowly mimicking Case''s movements with effort, moving from side to side with my arms flexed.

    "Wow, cool," exclaimed Gabe.

    Controlled, I repeated the movement a few more times.

    "Wow, that''s super cool," suddenly said the voice I recognized as the twins''.

    "That''s what I said," heard proud Gabe.

    With tired arms and hands, I carefully lowered myself from the bar, unlike Case who could be hanging for several minutes with dozens of repetitions; I had only managed a couple correctly.

    "Good job," Bob said proudly, patting my shoulder.

    "All right, Maddie, we''re done here for now; you can go back to studying," Cody, who was dressed in several sweatbands, told Maddie as he warmed up.

    "Oh no, I have to stay here and... take care of you, that''s what your mother pays me for after all," Maddie immediately replied.

    With the three kids trying to repeat what I had done and failing to different degrees, especially Cody, who simply hung on the bar, Bob and I were the only ones really exerting ourselves to exercise, despite my focus on my form when using any of the machines.

    "You should show off once more; you have an audience," murmured near me, Bob pointed slightly to Maddie, who had been sitting on one of the benches since she arrived.

    "I don''t think¡ª" I was saying, but Bob interrupted me.

    "Come on, none of that, take off your shirt and go up on the bar once more," hitting my side, Bob practically pushed me.

    "I''m tired," I said to deaf ears, as with his hands on my shoulders, Bob guided me to the bar.

    "Come on, come on, I know what I''m saying, champ," repeatedly hitting my side with his hand, Bob insisted.

    Ashamed, I slowly took off my shirt, feeling cold air on my back, I knew Maddie had been very entertained watching our entire workout session, but this was awkward and uncomfortable.

    Once again repeating the process now with much more effort, I stood up once again, trying to control the ascent and descent as much as possible.

    "Look at that, Cody, that''ll be me in a couple of years," Zack said, excitedly approaching with the other two kids to watch Case''s pull-ups.

    "You know your theory has no foundation, just because we''re blond doesn''t mean we''ll grow like PJ," Cody obviously said.

    Managing to do only half of what I did the first time, I dropped on my feet, feeling my hands slightly burning. Maddie, who had forgotten to turn her face away, continued to stare fixedly at my torso. Yes, this was uncomfortable.

    "Okay, I think we''re done here, right?" taking my shirt from Bob''s hands and quickly putting it back on, I said.

    "Yes, our job here is done," Bob laughed amused, patting my shoulder forcefully.

    Using the gym''s showers,

    we cleaned up and prepared to return to the suite. Maddie, saying goodbye once again accompanied by the twins, avoided eye contact at all costs. Yes, it was uncomfortable.

    "I''m telling you, you have to use all the tools at your disposal to get the job done," raising his eyebrows suggestively, Bob said, "I know about this, after all, you''re going to have three siblings," winking, Bob continued.

    "Please," with slight displeasure at the new mental images, I stopped the man who simply laughed again, hitting my shoulder.

    The next day, at about the same time as the day before, Gabe and I woke up, "that''s strange, it looks like you''re getting ready to go for a run," waiting for only his shoes to be missing, I said, stopping Gabe who lowered his head a moment later, "remember you have to shovel snow," I reminded him, smiling.

    Changing his pants and his chosen shoes, Gabe with his head down left the room with me behind.

    "Good luck with the snow," pushing my brother''s head towards the twins already prepared in the lobby, I said without receiving any response from the boy.

    As I walked through the lobby to go for a run, London, who I hadn''t seen since yesterday, dressed in alarmingly pink sportswear, was standing calmly waiting, immediately she began ''warming up'' by rapidly swinging her arms when she saw me.

    "London," amused by the extravagant movements the girl was doing to warm up, I greeted her.

    "Ah, PJ, I hadn''t noticed you there, are you going for a run?" falsely surprised, the girl asked, having seen me already.

    "Ye¡ª" I was saying, but immediately London interrupted me.

    "What an incredible coincidence, I was going to go for a run too," putting her hand on my shoulder excitedly she exclaimed, "we can go together," as if she was answering a question I hadn''t asked, the girl kindly said.

    "I''m fine with that," I said, amused by her blatant lack of shame.

    "Ah, London, are you going for a run?" Mr. Moseby, who apparently was always working early, asked surprised.

    "Moseby, what are you talking about, I always go for a run at this same time," comically opening her eyes, London said slowly to the hotel manager.

    "Ah... yeah, silly me," puzzled, the man, seeing the girl''s attitude, nodded slowly, "ah, I get it, good morning PJ," changing his attention, seeing me beside London, Mr. Moseby added amused.

    "Good morning," smiling, I replied, "are you done... warming up?" I asked London, who nodded excitedly, "all right, excuse me," I said kindly passing by the hotel manager.

    Outside the hotel, like the day before, the cold immediately hit my face, chilling every breath I took as I began jogging towards the park. It was going to be a great day.

    Upon arriving at the park entrance, London, who was behind me, started gasping for air. "Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. We hadn''t even started running yet.

    "Yeah, obviously," London replied, catching her breath.

    "Okay, let''s go," I decided to run much slower to let her get used to it as we started jogging through the park.

    "So..." as we ran, with considerable effort, London said between breaths, "what... have... you... done... in Boston?" she asked, panting out the last part.

    "Well, not much really," I easily replied, realizing we were jogging at a pace far slower than I was used to. "Yesterday Maddie took me to this milkshake place, it was really good, I don''t know if you''ve been there," I added.

    "Stop," suddenly halting in her tracks and miraculously catching her breath, London exclaimed, surprising me. "What did you say?" she asked.

    "We went to a milkshake place, we were served by this girl ''Michelle''," I nervously repeated, seeing London furrow her brow.

    "That cheater!" she exclaimed.

    "What?" I asked, were they competing?

    "Ah, nothing," immediately changing her tone as if nothing had happened, London said casually, waving her hand. "Let''s continue."

    After saying that, she shot off running faster than she had before.

    It didn''t take me long to catch up to London, and she didn''t take long to reach her limit. Such a sudden sprint with the endurance she had shown was surprising; it only lasted a few seconds.

    Leaving London on a park bench gasping for air, I continued with my own run with her permission.

    Returning to where I left her, I found her surprisingly sitting calmly on the same bench with a coffee and a magazine, even in the same spot.

    Where did she get that? There were no vendors in sight.

    "Ah, PJ, done?" getting up, tossing her magazine and coffee into a nearby trash can cheerfully, London asked.

    "Yeah," I replied, still trying to figure out where the coffee and magazine came from. We were also quite far from any park exit and therefore any caf¨¦.

    "Something wrong?" innocently, London asked.

    "No, nothing, let''s go," I said, walking towards the park exit.

    During the now much calmer walk, London took the opportunity to talk non-stop about various things in her life. "And that''s how my dad recovered all our stuff," she finished telling a surprising story of a diamond and oil mine when we arrived at the hotel.

    Upon re-entering the hotel lobby, suddenly grabbing my arm, like when I returned her dog, "Hahaha, you''re so funny PJ!" out of nowhere she exclaimed, barely speaking at all on the way back to the hotel.

    Pulling me into Maddie''s store, London continued laughing.

    Oh, I see.

    "What''s going on?" Maddie, like everyone else in the lobby, noticed our presence and asked in surprise.

    "Oh, just PJ and I went for a run, you wouldn''t understand," smiling broadly, London replied.

    "Run?" crossing her arms and completely ignoring me, Maddie asked London.

    "Yes, we''ve been running since morning, just the two of us," tilting her head and staring at the other girl, London replied.

    I mostly ran alone.

    "That''s cheating and you know it!" completely losing her calm and leaving her store, Maddie exclaimed.

    "Me?" offended, London asked, "do I have to remind you about the milkshakes, Miss Milkshake?" uncomfortably, London said.

    "He invited me, that wasn''t in the clauses," Maddie immediately defended herself.

    Clauses?

    "And he invited me to run, that wasn''t in the causes either," London quickly said.

    "It''s clauses," incredulous, Maddie corrected the other girl.

    "I don''t understand what Santa and his wife have to do with this?" London asked suddenly stopping the hostility.

    "That?" Maddie asked for a second before understanding it, "I''m not talking about Santa Claus, clauses are-" she was explaining but the other girl interrupted her.

    "I don''t care, I thought we agreed to fair play," annoyed, London said, crossing her arms and turning her head.

    "Yeah, well, I thought the same," mimicking the other girl''s actions, Maddie said.

    "So, if I understand correctly, you were competing to go out with me," I said incredulously and with a hint of disgust; just saying that reminded me of Joey Donner at home.

    "Yes," both still annoyed, Maddie and London replied simultaneously.

    This was supposed to be a quiet day.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    A couple of things:

    1. Is it really awkward for PJ to have nicknames for his siblings? As an older brother myself, it seems strange to refer to any of my siblings by their names; it feels too formal.

    2. It''s possible that the next chapter will be uploaded on Wednesday instead of Tuesday, and there won''t be a chapter on Thursday. I want to wrap up the ''mini arc'' in Boston.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    By the way, change the synopsis, what do you think?

 Daily Drama - Chapter 65

    It seems like I haven''t published a chapter in a while... but what nonsense am I saying? It''s obvious nothing like that happened.

    300k words.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "You know what? It really doesn''t matter," Maddie said calmly, spreading her arms. "Because I already won, he asked me out first," she continued quickly.

    "Oh yeah? Well, I''ll take PJ on the best date money can buy," London retorted arrogantly, feeling offended.

    "What? I-" I was saying, but Maddie immediately interrupted me.

    "Yeah? Well, I saw PJ shirtless," Maddie exclaimed, drawing even more attention from the people in the lobby.

    I knew listening to Bob was a bad idea. What was I thinking?

    "Ah," London exclaimed incredulously, "let me-" and without shame, she moved quickly, grabbing my shirt and trying to lift it.

    "Oh no, you won''t," Maddie, also moving quickly, pushed my hand away from my shirt and started struggling with London to stop her from moving my clothes.

    "Okay, stop this," I said, using enough strength to separate their hands and holding their wrists above their heads. "It''s ridiculous that you''re doing this," I said, stopping their yelling and movements.

    "But-" Maddie and London said in surprising synchronization.

    "Nothing," I interrupted, a bit annoyed. Now everyone in the lobby was watching us. "Let''s calm down," I said calmly, slowly releasing their wrists.

    Maddie and London, finally noticing the commotion they were causing in the lobby, nodded, embarrassed.

    "Look, I really feel very flattered, but I''ve only been here two days. I mean, you barely know me, London I just returned your dog," I said, making Maddie smile proudly.

    "That doesn''t matter, you''re cute," London easily argued.

    "Okay..." I said slowly, impressed by her response. "So, think about it from your own self-respect. You two are really impressive girls, I''m sure," I continued, not really knowing them that well, a bit more Maddie. "And I''m only here for two weeks. Is it really worth fighting over that?"

    "He''s right," Maddie said, nodding slightly, embarrassed.

    "Yes, we shouldn''t fight," London added.

    "Yes, thank you. Instead, we all can be friends," I said relieved, but at the same time, London and Maddie spoke again, in surprising synchronization.

    "We have to divide the remaining days, no fight" Maddie declared.

    "May the best girl win, no fight" London added seriously.

    "Wait, I didn''t mean that-" I said nervously, my words misunderstood.

    "Since you two went out yesterday, today is my turn," London declared, ignoring me completely.

    "And since tomorrow is New Year''s, we''ll take a break until Friday," Maddie continued, making London nod vigorously.

    "Don''t I have a say in this?" I asked, my words once again falling on deaf ears.

    "So be it. May the best girl win," Maddie said, shaking hands with London.

    "That will be me," London declared. "I''ll pick you up in a couple of hours, PJ," she added before walking towards the elevators in the lobby.

    Am I a trophy man?

    "Not if I win first," Maddie exclaimed, walking away from her store.

    "What just happened?" I asked no one, standing alone in front of the candy store.

    "Actually, I work here," Maddie said, coming back and going behind her counter, embarrassed. "Can you... you know?" she asked, moving her hand slowly.

    Am I a dog now?

    Feeling a headache coming on again, I decided to return to the suite for a comfortable and hot bath. I would deal with whatever happens with the girls later.

    After cleaning off the sweat, my family was already ready to go and have breakfast, even Gabe, who was clearly exhausted from his effort to shovel snow.

    Again, the hotel''s continental buffet breakfast, which was included as a gift from the Thomas family for our stay at the Tipton, tasted surprisingly good.

    "Teddy and I are going to visit an art gallery. Does anyone want to join us?" Mom asked when we finished breakfast.

    "Oh no thanks, honey," Bob immediately responded as if the mere idea of going to an art gallery was nonsense, completely ignoring the look Mom was giving him.

    "Zack and Cody invited me to play Risk with other kids from their school," Gabe said, equally uninterested in the art gallery.

    "I don''t want you to get into trouble, or shoveling snow will be the least of your worries for the rest of the days left in Boston," Mom seriously warned the boy. "And what about you, PJ? Do you want to join us?" After staring at Gabe, causing him to shrink slightly in fear, Mom asked me.

    "I''d love to, but I think I have another date," I said, immediately regretting it when I saw Mom''s excited face.

    "With Maddie?" Mom asked, trying and failing to hide her excitement, pretending disinterest.

    Teddy, who was drinking the rest of her orange juice, slammed her glass on the table, obviously upset.

    Sighing, I quickly shook my head. "No, it''s another girl I met. I returned her dog. It''s complicated," I explained.

    "Oh yeah, her dog''s name is the same as the hotel," Gabe added, excitedly remembering the small animal trapped in the elevator with us.

    "Not just her dog. Apparently, her father owns the hotel," I explained calmly, causing Bob to start coughing violently, seemingly choking on his own saliva.

    "What?" he asked incredulously.

    "Yeah, I ran into her this morning when I went out for a run. She told me some things about her life, like when her dad lost all his money in a bad investment, but luckily, he got it all back," I explained calmly.

    "Do you know where you''re taking her? You definitely need money. I have to call the bank," Bob said, his attitude changing suddenly, becoming completely serious and trying to stand up, quickly stopped by Mom.

    "Don''t interfere," Mom said, hitting Bob''s shoulder, warning him with just a look, like she did with Gabe a few seconds ago.

    "Don''t worry about it, Dad. I don''t need money," I said, at least that''s what I thought. Actually, given how the fight between London and Maddie had developed, Bob was very wrong. I wouldn''t be taking her; it was the other way around.

    "Well, you''re all missing out. Teddy and I will go enrich our culture by enjoying art," Mom said proudly, linking arms with my sister, making Gabe laugh softly, stopping immediately when he noticed Mom''s gaze again.

    Several minutes later, almost all the family members had left the suite. Only Bob and I remained. Bob, who was in the living room in front of the gigantic TV, seemed in a trance watching some kind of infomercial in a loop with a big smile on his face.

    "Dad?" I slowly asked when the infomercial started again.

    "Yeah?" Bob asked, coming out of his trance.

    "Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. Since we came up from breakfast, he had been lost in his thoughts.

    "Sure, I was just thinking about the future," Bob declared, smiling dreamily.

    "Okay," I said, puzzled, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "Do you mind if I change the TV channel?" I asked, making Bob immediately hand me the remote.

    "No, go ahead," he replied nonchalantly. "Are you going to wear that to your date?" he asked suddenly, looking at my clothes.

    "Yes, why?" I asked, surprised, looking at my clothes. I was wearing one of my many polo shirts in different colors, jeans, and regular shoes.

    "Oh, no reason, it''s just a bit, you know... plain."

    "What?" I asked, surprised, looking at my clothes. I didn''t see anything wrong with them.

    "Oh, don''t take it the wrong way, son," Bob quickly said. "You don''t look bad, obviously. I mean, you''re a Duncan," he declared proudly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "It''s just that, you know," he continued slowly, pointing at my clothes.

    Honestly a bit offended, I searched my clothes for the ''you know'' Bob was referring to. I had no idea about style or anything related to it. The shirt, since I had bought it a few weeks ago like the rest of my upper clothes, fit a bit snug, but aside from that, again, I saw nothing wrong with it.

    "I don''t think it''s bad," I said, defending my ''style''. "I feel comfortable, and it''s more efficient this way."

    "Efficient?" Bob asked incredulously. "What do you mean by efficient?"

    "I mean, if I have enough shirts for two weeks, wearing one a day, I don''t have to worry about thinking about what to wear for two weeks. I just have to grab the next one," I explained quickly.

    Bob stared at me incredulously for a long time. "There''s a limit to what the Duncan genes can do," he declared sarcastically.

    "Oh yeah, mock me," I said, a bit offended. "But my system works."

    "All right, all right, just try to make a good impression," Bob said, strangely nervous.

    It was strange because usually, there was no reason for Bob to be so interested. Pride was a reason to be interested, but in this case, it was obvious that London''s surname was much more interesting than ''the Duncan genes.''

    "Good impression?" I asked, amused, already getting an idea of what Bob had in mind.

    "It''s just that the Tiptons have a chain of hotels across the United States," Bob finally said, a bit embarrassed.

    Yes, I knew what was happening. "You want me to put in a good word about my father who owns a pest control company?" I asked

    , amused, seeing Bob''s face light up immediately at my words.

    "Yeah!" Bob exclaimed right away. "I mean, yes, it would be pretty good for the business," he continued, scratching the side of his face, much calmer.

    "Of course, Dad, if the opportunity arises, I''ll obviously put in a good word for ''Bob''s Bugs Be Gone.'' Don''t worry," I assured him, and he nodded seriously.

    "I''m counting on you," Bob said, relieved, putting his hand on my shoulder.

    As if Bob''s last words were a switch, the suite door was knocked on.

    Widening his eyes exaggeratedly, Bob pointed to the door and whispered, "She''s here."

    For some reason, this felt wrong. Ignoring Bob''s strange excitement, I went to open the door.

    "PJ," London said, standing on the other side of the door with a big smile, "Oh," she lost her smile for a second.

    "Hey, nice to meet you, Bob Duncan of Bob''s Bugs Be Gone," Bob said, shaking London''s hand before I could ask what was wrong with my clothes again. Bob, smiling formally, introduced himself, "Oh, and I''m PJ''s father," he added as an afterthought.

    "Funny, it rhymes," London said, smiling honestly. "Are you ready?" she asked, maintaining her strangely similar smile to Billy Sparks, the chicken boy, still occasionally looking strangely at my clothes.

    "Yeah," I said slowly, patting Bob''s arm as a farewell, and stepped out with London. "So, do you have something planned?" The elevator was still open when I left the suite.

    "Oh yeah," London responded, checking her face with the same small hand mirror she had when I met her. "But I''m going to cancel it all. We''re going to do something much more fun than that," she said, smiling cheerfully. "Let''s go shopping!" she exclaimed excitedly.

    "Shopping?" I asked, intrigued.

    "Oh yes, let''s go shopping. You obviously need clothes," she said, still smiling cheerfully.

    What? Not again.

    "I don''t need clothes. I have all I want," I said, feeling offended once again.

    "Oh, PJ, needing and wanting are two very different things. It''s funny you don''t know that," London said seriously. "For example, this scarf, I bought it a couple of days ago. Did I want it? Yes. Did I need it? Yes," she continued, completely sure of herself.

    "Your point?" I asked, puzzled.

    "None, it''s just that it''s very cute, isn''t it?" London responded, smiling widely.

    "Yeah," I replied, amused by her relaxed attitude. "So, shopping?" I asked, not feeling entirely comfortable with the whole ''competition,'' but being in Boston for two weeks and on vacation was the perfect excuse to go out and explore the city.

    "Oh yes, I''m thinking maybe some suits, shirts, and slightly tight pants, obviously. Some sweaters, vests, watches, and shoes, enough for the days you''re here in Boston," London listed, giving my clothes another quick inspection and placing her hand on her chin. "I like your style, but it''s branded," she added with a look of disdain.

    "Don''t you prefer to do something else?" I asked, concerned. "Shopping for clothes just for me sounds like a boring idea."

    "Ah," London exclaimed, completely opening her mouth in surprise. "There''s nothing better than shopping," she declared, offended, raising one of her fingers. "Well, maybe giving someone who needs it a makeover is like charity," she added cheerfully.

    As she finished speaking, the elevator doors opened, and we found ourselves once again in the hotel lobby.

    "Mosby," London said, approaching the hotel manager with her calm smile. "Call the pilot and cancel the flight," she declared as if it were nothing, causing Mr. Mosby to nod completely calmly at the idea of calling a pilot.

    "Flight?" I asked, following London out of the hotel, intrigued.

    "Yes, in my daddy''s helicopter," she said nonchalantly, taking some keys from one of the hotel workers and entering a luxurious red car.

    "Helicopter," I murmured before also getting into the car on the passenger side.

    "It''s still early. If we go quickly, we''ll have enough time for a couple of hours of shopping," London said, strangely preparing her hands to start driving. "Not as much as I''d like, but I''m sure we can do it in time."

    As she drove, London talked to herself, listing what I could understand were clothing brands.

    "So, how much do you plan to spend?" I asked. I had told Bob that she had invited me on the date, but I couldn''t let her pay for clothes for me, even if I didn''t need them.

    "None of that, daddy pays," London declared nonchalantly, laughing as if it were a joke.

    "I can''t let you pay for everything, especially if we''re just buying clothes for me."

    "It''s nothing, I assure you. I don''t even think I''ll need to switch cards," London said with some disdain, waving her hand.

    "A thousand dollars?!" A few minutes later, inside one of the most luxurious malls I had ever seen, I exclaimed as I looked at the small tag on a suit. Just one suit from this store cost almost as much as my car.

    "Only a thousand?" London asked, surprised, taking the tag from my hand. "Wow, men really have it easy; their clothes are so cheap," she said, laughing, placing the suit in front of me before tossing it onto my shoulder.

    "Oh yes, definitely," London continued, taking many more garments without even checking the price of each one and tossing them to me without even turning around.

    As she continued, London kept throwing clothes at me until it became difficult to catch whatever she threw.

    "I think that''s enough for now," London said several minutes later, having gone through the entire store, looking at the small mountain of clothes in my arms.

    Finally, thanks.

    "At least in this store," she added, looking around the store.

    "What?" I murmured, incredulous. Despite the fact that the clothes on my arms practically weighed nothing, I was already extremely exhausted for some reason. "We have much more clothing than I can wear in two weeks, London. There''s no need to go overboard," I said nervously, deciding not to add up the total in my head anymore.

    "Overboard?" London asked, finding my words amusing. "It''s just a couple of shirts, pants, and suits. This will only last you about four days," she said confidently, making some sort of calculation in her head. "You need much more clothing for when you have to get rid of this," she said, pointing to the clothes with complete tranquility.

    "Get rid of?" I asked, scared by the implications.

    "Of course, you can''t wear the same outfit twice, silly," London declared as if it were completely obvious. "Come on, daylight is wasting," and she continued walking through the store as if nothing had happened.

    After a couple of seconds in shock at the millionaire girl''s way of thinking, I walked behind her, thinking we were done in that store and prepared to take the clothes to the register to pay for everything.

    "Go in there, we need to see if they fit you," London said, taking a seat on a sofa oddly placed in the store, pointing to a door¡ªthe fitting rooms. "Come on," she said, clapping her hands twice and smiling as always.

    Seeing that London''s expression didn''t change at all, I accepted my fate and walked to the fitting room.

    What followed were several minutes of trying on different clothes and outfits, coming out of the fitting rooms to get London''s approval or disapproval. At some point, other store workers, including both women and men, also joined London, apparently giving their own opinions before the girl made her verdict.

    Putting on the last outfit, a blue suit with white pants, I had finally finished trying on all the clothes London had chosen for me. "Definitely," London and the workers at her side said in unison as soon as I left the fitting room. Somehow, they had managed to get a tray full of chocolate-covered fruits and a larger sofa.

    No more customers?

    "You''ll wear that, where are your old clothes? We need to burn them," London asked cheerfully, getting up.

    "Oh, we took care of that," one of the store workers declared calmly, smiling professionally.

    "They threw away my clothes?" I asked, completely ignored as the workers moved in unison, following London''s orders to carry the accepted clothes.

    "London, I really appreciate this, but I think it''s enough. I don''t feel right making you spend thousands of dollars on me," I said seriously, walking out of the store with several shopping bags.

    "But it''s my turn," London said, for the first time since we arrived, losing her smile.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "I know, but I think we could be having a much better time doing something else, maybe just walking," I said hopefully.

    "Walking in a mall without buying anything?" London asked, completely incredulous.

    "Yes, maybe chatting and looking at some stores, maybe buying something that really catches your eye," I continued. "You know, getting to know each other."

    Nodding slowly, apparently processing what I had just said.

    "I mean, I bet that besides my name, you don''t know much about me," I said, even though it was the same the other way around. Wow, I knew her father had tons of money and they owned the hotel chain, but apart from that, I knew nothing else. London couldn''t be that shallow, right?

    "You''re a cute guy," London declared confidently.

    "Well, thanks, but again, that''s not much," I said, slightly embarrassed.

    "Okay, fine, let''s try your idea," London said nervously before clapping her hands twice.

    "Allow me," an extremely well-dressed person wearing sunglasses, who appeared to be just anyone, suddenly arrived at my side, seriously extending his hand.

    "Oh, don''t worry about him; he''s one of the shopping carriers my daddy hired for me," London said, completely carefree, smiling cheerfully.

    Handing over the bags I was holding to the strange man, I scanned the people around us again. I hadn''t noticed because they were dressed to match the luxurious place, but at least a dozen people around us were dressed like this man, constantly checking the area. They were definitely bodyguards. How long have they been following us?

    London, still smiling innocently, seemed to be mentally preparing herself, breathing as if she were about to start something dangerous.

    "Are you ready?" I asked, looking at the now extremely serious London.

    "Yeah," London replied, nodding firmly and narrowing her eyes.

    As we walked through the mall, now apart from the painfully obvious bodyguard team several steps behind us, I could also notice how many people we passed stared at me. Was it really that important to have such well-arranged clothes?

    "Definitely fashion, maybe in a magazine, Vogue, Elle, Runway, or Marie Claire, you know, the most important ones," London finally began to calm down and chat without a problem, almost not trying to shop at the stores we passed by.

    "That sounds like a great goal," I admitted, now much more comfortable.

    "I know, right?" London said, smiling cheerfully. "Hey, look, Au Bon Pain. I don''t think they sell chocolate shakes there, but they have coffee," she pointed to a place that appeared to be a luxurious caf¨¦.

    "I''d love to have some coffee," I said, walking towards the place.

    "You know, I''ve never been so far from clothing stores," London said, amused. "I didn''t know there were actually more stores besides clothing ones," she admitted with her innocent smile. "Your experiment is working very well."

    The caf¨¦, unlike Michelle''s caf¨¦, smelled extremely good, but like the extroverted girl''s store, it was full of people. "Do you think your father''s workers would like some coffee?" I asked, noticing how the men split into two groups, one entering the caf¨¦ with us and checking everyone inside, and the other group forming a sort of perimeter outside the store.

    "Oh, I don''t know. They usually don''t talk unless I talk to them first," London said, genuinely intrigued, before waving her hand to call one of them over.

    "Yes, Miss?" the closest of the men quickly arrived, completely serious, and asked.

    "Do you want some coffee?" London asked calmly,

    causing the previously emotionless man''s face to change to surprise. "So..." London continued after a few seconds without getting a response.

    "Yes, we''d love some coffee," the man finally replied, genuinely surprised, smiling gratefully.

    "Why didn''t you say so before?" London asked, as always, smiling innocently, then returned her attention to the small queue about to end at the caf¨¦ counter.

    Previously, with what little I had known about London, I found many similarities with Regina. Similarities that, with my new ability to ''read'' lies, I discovered did not represent at all that they were alike. London, having been born into a family with what seemed like inexhaustible resources, lived in a bubble of innocence and ignorance but did not despise those who were ''below'' her, which distinguished her from Regina.

    "Hello," I finally said, greeting the barista behind the counter as our turn came, who was focused on her cash register.

    "Hello, welcome to Au Bon Pain. What can I get you... today?" the girl said, stopping for a moment to reappreciate the clothes London had chosen for me.

    It was just clothes.

    "How about thirteen black coffees," I said slowly, making sure the bodyguard agreed with the order. "And..." I paused, pointing to London.

    "I want a cappuccino," London said, hugging one of my arms and smiling at the barista.

    "That''s all, thank you," I said, confused by London''s sudden possessiveness, trying to ignore the pressure on my arm as I took out my wallet. After all the money London had spent on me, the least I could do was pay for the drinks.

    "Oh yeah," oddly taken aback by my words, the girl quickly started entering the order into her cash register. "Your total is one hundred eighty-four dollars."

    Coughing in surprise at the total, I almost dropped my wallet as I took it out of my new pants. Almost two hundred dollars for fourteen drinks. I had completely forgotten the type of mall we were in.

    Painfully taking the last bills from my wallet, I paid for all the coffees, leaving the rest as a tip.

    "You didn''t have to pay for this," London said, finally releasing my arm from her strangely strong grip.

    "It was my turn to pay for something," I said, trying to regain the feeling in my arm and thinking I would need to go to an ATM to withdraw more cash.

    "All right, thanks," London said with a slight smile.

    "It''s nothing compared to what you spent on me today," I said, a bit embarrassed.

    "I told you, it was more like a gift for me. I had the chance to help someone in need," London declared, extremely proud of herself.

    When the drinks were ready, London''s bodyguards entered in turns to get their drinks, each giving me a small nod of gratitude as they returned to their posts with their hot beverages in hand.

    "We already talked about what I want to do in the future. What about you?" London asked, resuming our conversation as we sat at one of the tables in the caf¨¦.

    Unlike what I had expected from this day, the ''date'' with London turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. It was fun to hear certain points of view from London on some topics, completely generated from her ''bubble of privilege.''

    After finishing our drinks, we returned to the hotel. During the ride back, I could see the ''undercover'' cars following London''s, and I wondered how I hadn''t noticed them before.

    "Who would have thought that going to the mall and not buying things would be so interesting?" London declared innocently as she walked beside me, once again taking my arm. "Maybe I''ll try it again someday," she said seriously.

    "You totally should," I declared, amused, quickly taking the shopping bags from the hotel worker who was closely following us. "I got it, thanks," I said to the man.

    "I usually let them take my purchases up. It''s easier that way," London said innocently, stopping me by the shoulder.

    "Really, there''s no need. I can carry them myself," I assured the worker, who seemed nervous.

    "Of course you can," London said cheerfully, pressing my arm with her hands.

    As we entered the hotel, we almost immediately ran into Maddie, who seemed to be on her way out. "Maddie," I said cheerfully in greeting.

    "Wow, hey," she said, obviously taken by surprise, stopping for a moment to look at my clothes. "You look good."

    "I know, right?" London exclaimed excitedly.

    "Thanks, London thought it would be a good idea to go shopping, and she got me this," I said, lifting the bags, making London smile proudly.

    "Of course you went shopping," Maddie declared ironically, smiling.

    "I told you it was better than just going for chocolate shakes," London said proudly.

    "Well, it doesn''t matter. I''ll see you in a couple of days," Maddie said, completely unconcerned, smiling. "Happy New Year, I will win," she declared calmly, staring at London as she walked out of the hotel.

    I had completely forgotten about the ''competition.''

    "Sometimes she can be scary," London said seriously, losing her innocent smile and releasing my arm, which somehow had enough strength to cut off circulation.

    "Well, I have an appointment with the manicurist. See you," London said cheerfully, smiling as if nothing had happened while she walked away from the lobby.

    It was amusing to see how London lived completely carefree.

    Back in the suite, just like when I left, only Bob was present, sitting on the living room couch, still watching TV, completely comfortable with some junk food spread out in front of him.

    "Hey, oh hey," Bob said, surprised as I took off my coat. "Look at you," he added, getting up and walking toward me. "Is that more clothes like that?" he asked, pointing to the bags in my hand.

    "Yeah, London ended up taking me shopping," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Don''t mention it," I added, stopping Bob, who seemed about to make fun of the situation.

    "Well, she did you a great favor. Now you look like a true Duncan," Bob said proudly, shaking my shoulder.

    "You really abuse that," I said sarcastically, also taking off my jacket. "I''m going to put all this away," I continued, feeling embarrassed by the number of bags I had with me as I walked to the room I shared with Gabe.

    "If you keep growing at the rate you did these past few months, that shirt will rip in no time," Bob declared amused as I returned to the living room after carefully putting away the clothes. I sat down next to him, taking a bowl full of chips.

    "So Gabe will have new shirts if he ever wants them," I replied.

    "Yeah, I can see that," Bob agreed, laughing. "So..." he added slowly, focusing his gaze on the TV. "How did it go?"

    "I talked to her about ''Bob''s Bugs be Gone,''" I said immediately, deducing the reason for his interest. "She thinks it''s very brave of you to deal with pests."

    "Do you think she''ll talk to her father about it?" Bob asked nervously, forgetting his attempt to appear casual.

    "I don''t know," I responded. I really didn''t know. Having spent almost the entire day with London, getting to know her a bit, I doubted very much that Bob''s company''s information would stay in her mind.

    "I hope she does. They have a hotel in Houston and Austin. The Tipton chain would be one of my best clients," Bob said hopefully, once again turning his attention to the TV.

    It wasn''t long before Teddy and Mom arrived, laughing boisterously.

    "Oh my God, who are you, and what did you do with my son?" Mom exclaimed dramatically upon seeing me on the couch next to Bob.

    "Dad, be careful, who is he?" Teddy asked, matching Mom''s exaggerated acting, feigning concern.

    "You two are so funny. It''s just clothes," I said, slightly frustrated, raising my arms.

    "Just clothes," Teddy and Mom repeated incredulously. "It''s actually sad," Teddy said, shaking her head in pity.

    "Don''t worry, PJ," Mom said, sitting next to me with the same pitying look as Teddy, placing one of her hands on my face. "I''m sure you''ll find someone who can ignore your total lack of fashion sense."

    "This really hurts my feelings," I said seriously.

    After the female members of my family continued to tease me, they made me show them all the clothes London had chosen for me.

    "That girl did you a great favor," Mom said cheerfully, still inspecting one of the garments.

    "She said it was like a gift for her," I said, amused, recalling London''s reasoning.

    "I totally understand her," Mom said resolutely, looking at the clothes I was wearing once again.

    I didn''t dress that badly.

    The next day, after everyone had breakfast, dressed in one of the outfits London had given me, chosen by Teddy, we left early for the Thomas''s house, this time taking a taxi from the hotel.

    "Ah, young PJ," Alfred said cheerfully a couple of seconds after I knocked on the Thomas''s door. He was wearing an apron over his always present incredibly formal clothes. "I assume this is your family. Nice to meet you all. Allow me to take that," he said, professionally taking a bottle of wine from Bob''s hands and letting us into the house.

    "Ah, Alfred, yes. This is my mother Amy, father Bob, and my siblings, Gabe and Teddy," I said, greeting him back and introducing each family member.

    "Ah, the Duncans, come in, come in," Dottie said, carrying a bowl that looked like a salad, energetically greeting each person as they entered her house.

    "Look at you, PJ, so handsome," Dottie said, hugging my neck tightly with her free hand.

    "You look beautiful too, Dottie. Let me help you," I replied, taking the bowl from her hands.

    "You have many good things to learn from Don, but being a flatterer is not one of them, I assure you," Dottie playfully scolded me, tapping my shoulder.

    "Who arrived?" Dr. Thomas asked excitedly from the kitchen, also wearing an apron. "The Duncan family," he said, opening his arms joyfully. "Come in, come in."

    "I was just finishing up dinner, but I think the cookies are ready. Would you like one?" Dottie asked kindly, now with her hands free, looking at Gabe.

    "Oh yes, please," Gabe responded immediately, acting strangely sweet like a child, taking Dottie by the arm and walking to the kitchen.

    The Thomas''s kitchen was filled with various dishes spread out, ready to be served.

    "Are you expecting more people?" Mom asked, approaching to help Dottie.

    "Oh yes, we always invite all our friends. PJ met many of them on his last visit," Dr. Thomas responded cheerfully.

    "This time, we had several confirmed guests, so we''re dining in the patio," Dottie said, affectionately hugging Gabe, who was happily eating cookies.

    "Isn''t it snowing?" Teddy asked, taking one of the cookies in front of Gabe.

    "Oh yes, dear, but we have a tent with gas heaters. Don''t worry about anything except enjoying the dinner," Dottie responded kindly, obviously enjoying the presence of children in her house.

    As Dottie had already mentioned, the dinner and the preparations were virtually complete. There wasn''t much else to do. Shortly after my family arrived at the Thomas''s house, the couple''s other guests began to arrive, causing us to move from the kitchen to the patio.

    The Thomas''s patio, like their house, was easily gigantic, allowing for a tent much larger than the living room of our house back in Medford to shield us

    from the cold winter wind.

    Besides the tent in the patio, the Thomas''s had also hired waiter service. Quickly, the large table in the Thomas''s patio filled with people who, without having to wait long, were served appetizers and drinks by the hired waiters.

    "Here in Boston, as well as in New York, your main pest problem isn''t insects but small rodents. So, to disinfest a large building like, for example, the Tipton Hotel, you have to hunt them down to their nests," Bob, who had been asked by the Thomas''s other guests about his job, spoke without any shame.

    "Look who arrived," Dottie said cheerfully from the back door of the Thomas''s house, accompanied by Dr. Grey and Meredith, who had her long face again, obviously uncomfortable being there.

    "PJ," Meredith, the last one, completely surprised to see me also present, immediately changed her expression and quickly walked over to where I was sitting with my siblings.

    "Meredith," I said, standing up to greet the girl who happily came to give me a hug.

    "What are you doing here?" she asked joyfully, squeezing my torso.

    "I crashed the dinner," I admitted dramatically, making her roll her eyes. "Oh, let me introduce you. Meredith, this is my sister Teddy. Teddy, this is Meredith. She helped me choose the clothes I brought for you from Boston."

    Teddy, who was reading one of her magazines, completely uninterested in the adults'' conversations, cheerfully greeted Meredith.

    "Is that the latest Seventeen?" Meredith asked, interested, seeing the magazine in my sister''s hands, quickly sitting next to Teddy, seemingly ignoring her own social discomfort being with someone closer to her age.

    "Dr. Grey," I said, taking the opportunity to greet the woman since Meredith was now more comfortable talking to my sister. She was waiting with Dottie, waving at the other people from afar.

    "PJ," she said, taking my hand in a firm handshake, her always serious face showing a barely visible smile. "I didn''t know you had arrived in Boston until just a few hours ago. Yesterday, we had an incredible total colectomy. I would have been more than happy for you to watch it from the gallery. You would have loved it."

    "I''m sure I would have," I replied kindly. "Doctor, let me introduce you to my parents," I said quickly, noticing my mom''s interested look. "Mom, Dad, this is Dr. Grey, one of, if not the best, general surgeons currently in our country."

    While my parents introduced themselves kindly to the always serious Dr. Grey, I saw Dottie behind her, happily observing Teddy and Meredith getting along, laughing occasionally at an article in my sister''s magazine.

    "Grandma Dottie, can I have more cookies?" Gabe, taking advantage of Mom''s distraction, sweetly asked Dottie.

    "Oh, absolutely, honey. Go to the kitchen and tell Alfred to give you more," Dottie replied, stroking my brother''s face, making Gabe run into the house immediately.

    "You know he''s just using your kindness to take advantage of you, right?" I sarcastically asked Dottie.

    "Obviously, but let''s not let him know that. It''s nice having kids in the house," Dottie replied sweetly, placing her hand on my face before walking over to where Dr. Grey and my parents continued talking, mostly mom.

    The evening continued, and Meredith and Teddy quickly got along wonderfully, whispering and laughing about who knows what, occasionally pointing at me in their secretiveness. Gabe, not having anyone his age to entertain himself like our sister, kept up his fa?ade and managed to get Dottie to give him many things, focusing all her grandmotherly love on him.

    Engaged in many different conversations with the Thomas''s guests, I fortunately could ignore the lack of people my age. With so many doctors present, there were great and interesting conversations to be had.

    "Your son is a genius rarely seen," one of the guests, Dr. Eaton, who had been giving the medical diagnosis class that Dr. Thomas and I had infiltrated on my last visit, told my parents.

    "We know," my obviously proud mom said, puffing out her chest.

    "I mean it completely seriously. I''m excited to see what the future of medicine holds with someone like PJ leading it," Dr. Eaton said dreamily. "What do you think of the idea of PJ coming to study at Harvard when the time comes?" he asked, raising his glass to drink more wine.

    "I think it''s an incredible idea," Mom responded immediately, blinded by pride and excitement.

    "We believe it''s PJ''s decision. Whatever he chooses, we will be more than happy to support him," Bob quickly responded, stopping Mom.

    "But of course, rest assured that if PJ decides to study here, I will personally write a letter of recommendation and speak with the admissions committee," Dr. Eaton said.

    "Oh, Joseph, you don''t have to worry about that. I am more than prepared to do it myself," Dr. Thomas, who seemed to be listening to the conversation, said arrogantly, smiling widely.

    "Of course you are, Don, of course you are," Dr. Eaton said, laughing loudly. "But two letters and good words never hurt," he added, winking at me.

    "Or three," another doctor present quickly took the opportunity, causing many of the doctors I had conversed with to offer to write a letter of recommendation.

    "All of you can forget about your letters; with mine, PJ has more than enough," Dr. Thomas arrogantly exclaimed, causing the other doctors to fall silent for a second before exploding in unison, discussing with Dr. Thomas.

    "Ahem," Dottie loudly exclaimed, standing up, effectively silencing the noisy doctors. "It''s almost time," she declared, waiting for everyone to quiet down, nodding to one of the waiters next to a television connected inside the house.

    The television immediately showed the Times Square ball and hundreds of people around it waiting.

    When the ball dropped and everyone celebrated on the television, we also celebrated in the Thomas''s patio.

    It was officially 1991.

    The adults toasted, we ate various desserts, and enjoyed the music and other much calmer conversations.

    As the night went on, people began to say their goodbyes and leave the Thomas''s house. "I think it''s time for us to go too," Bob said after Mom rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted. Besides us, only a few people were left.

    "Dottie, Dr. Thomas, thank you so much for inviting us," Mom said, standing up with Bob''s help, clearly tired.

    "Oh, nothing of the sort, dear. This is your home," Dottie said kindly, standing up and taking Mom''s arm.

    "Thank you for coming to spend this occasion with us," Dr. Thomas added, also standing up to see us off.

    Since there were relatively few people present, saying goodbye didn''t take long.

    "PJ, go get your siblings, please," Bob said while helping Mom put on her coat.

    Teddy, Meredith, and Gabe had gone inside the house several minutes earlier, excusing themselves from the uninteresting conversations at the table.

    "Hey, buddy, put on your coat. It''s time to go," I said, shaking Gabe, who was asleep on the Thomas''s sofa.

    "So soon?" Teddy, who was sharing another sofa with Meredith, asked disappointedly.

    "Yes, put on your coat. It''s cold outside," I replied, still shaking my impressively sleepy brother.

    "What?" Gabe finally asked after several seconds of shaking, opening his eyes.

    "We''re leaving," I said, amused, watching the boy struggle to keep his eyes open.

    "There''s really no problem; it''s very difficult to find a taxi at this hour," Dr. Thomas, followed by Bob, Mom, and Dottie, said, talking to Bob.

    "All right then, thank you, doctor," Bob said, nodding.

    "Bah, don''t mention it," Dr. Thomas said, taking a key from his key rack next to the door.

    "Are you ready, kids?" Mom asked.

    "Can Meredith come with us?" Teddy asked anxiously while putting on her coat, looking at Mom.

    "Oh, honey, it''s New Year''s. I''m sure Meredith wants to spend it with her mother," Mom replied affectionately, making Meredith snort instinctively. "Tell you what, if her mom gives permission, of course she can," Mom added, puzzled by the girl''s response.

    "Thanks," Teddy said quickly, rushing out to where Dr. Grey was, followed closely by Meredith.

    "Can you carry that?" Bob, pointing to Gabe, who had fallen asleep again after putting on his coat, asked me amusedly.

    "Sure," I replied, equally amused.

    Not long after, the girls, followed by Dr. Grey, returned to where we were waiting.

    "Are you willing to have Meredith for a sleepover?" Dr. Grey asked Mom.

    "Of course, if you agree," Mom replied, likely puzzled by the woman''s manner of speaking.

    "Oh, absolutely. I have rounds in a couple of hours. If she can go with you, I could sleep at the hospital," Dr. Grey said, checking her watch with some relief. "In fact, I have a surgery scheduled for first thing in the morning. Could Meredith¡ª" the woman was saying, but Mom interrupted her.

    "Of course, no problem at all. Meredith can stay with us as long as needed," Mom said easily, smiling kindly, though I could see she was getting angry with the other woman, just like Dottie, who didn''t hide her frown.

    Fortunately, Meredith, who theoretically should have been the most affected, completely ignored her mother''s words, celebrating with Teddy while they planned what to do.

    "That''s perfect," Dr. Grey said, clapping with more excitement than she had shown during the entire dinner.

    "Yes, it is. You have nothing to worry about; they will have a great time together," Mom assured, putting her hands on the two girls'' shoulders, showing more of her annoyance with Dr. Grey.

    "Oh, clothes," Dr. Grey suddenly remembered. "I think I can send something to the Tipton Hotel for Meredith," she added seriously after thinking for a few seconds.

    "Nonsense. Teddy has clothes to lend her," Mom quickly said, shaking her head.

    "Perfect then," Dr. Grey said, showing more excitement than during the entire dinner. "I''d better go. Behave, I don''t want to hear that you did something I didn''t raise you for," she warned, fixing Meredith''s hair. "Dr. Thomas, Dottie, as always, a pleasure. Thank you for your hospitality. Bob, Amy," she said, starting her goodbyes in her usual serious manner. "PJ, always a pleasure. If you have time in the next few days, I''m sure I could show you some interesting surgeries."

    "I''d love to," I replied, a bit uncomfortable, noticing the looks Mom and Dottie were giving the other woman.

    "Perfect," Dr. Grey said, nodding as she took her keys and calmly left the house to her car, since she had already said goodbye to everyone.

    Like Dr. Grey, my family, with the addition of Meredith, also left the Thomas''s house, who were kind enough to lend Bob their new SUV to drive back to the hotel.

    On the way back, I could notice how Bob and Mom occasionally talked in whispers while checking the car''s rearview mirror, obviously about Meredith, who, fortunately, along with Teddy and Gabe, was completely asleep.

    The following day, after we all had breakfast together at the hotel buffet, the girls, along with mom, went for another spa day while Bob, at the request of a strange engineer and consequently Mr. Mosby, was dealing with a family of raccoons living in the hotel boilers.

    For some reason, Gabe wanted me to accompany him to the Martin family''s suite, the suite the twins shared with their mother, who had become close friends with my brother over the past few days.

    "Why do you want me to come?" I asked again as Gabe knocked on the door of the small family.

    "You''ll see," Gabe said playfully.

    "Gabe, you''re late, Maddie is going cra¡ª" one of the twins, the calmer one judging by his attire, Cody, opened the door and started speaking immediately upon seeing my brother. He stopped when he saw me, closing the door to prevent me from seeing inside. "PJ, you brought PJ," he added incredulously and obviously scared.

    "Yes, who better than my brother to answer all the questions?" Gabe said calmly, smiling without a hint of embarrassment.

    "What is going on?" I asked, seeing how the boy struggled to prevent me from looking inside his house.

    "Oh, we¡¯re just helping to¡ª" Gabe was responding, but Cody anxiously let go of the door and quickly covered my brother''s mouth.

    "Nothing," said the nervous boy.

    "Ok, then thanks for letting us in," I said, while the boy and my brother were fighting noting that since Cody was stopping Gabe from continuing, there was no one to block the door.

    "Was that him? Is he here? We''re behind schedule," Maddie, obviously nervous by the speed at which she was speaking, said with her back to me, fully focused on a board alongside the other twin.

    "I think if we move this, there will be more time for the walk where you can use these themes" Zack said pointing with one of the markers.

    "Interesting, but I would like the walk to start when the lights in the park turn on, that''s the best time" Slowly Maddie, denying, responded.

    In the center of the board was a photograph of me, connected with threads to various things, clearly some kind of plan.

    This felt wrong.

    "PJ is here," Cody shouted a second later, running to my side.

    "PJ!" Maddie shouted, surprised, as she jumped in place and pushed the board in a failed attempt to hide it, almost knocking Zack over in the process as he quickly covered another part of it.

    "Should I be worried about this?" I asked without receiving any response, slightly nervous, seeing the board''s content.

    "I tried to stop him" Cody ashamed said.

    "I can see that," with a forced smile said Maddie, standing next to Zack and trying to cover the entire board with her back, opening her eyes wide and gritting her teeth.

    "Maddie has a lot of questions," Gabe said maliciously, calmly walking behind Cody. "Who better than you to answer them?" he asked, feigning innocence.

    "What is happeni¡ªoh, good morning, PJ," Mrs. Martin said, stepping out of her room and stopping when she saw me standing in her living room, rigidly walking alongside her son and Maddie, who was helping cover the board.

    "Did he see it?" she asked Maddie with a rigid smile on her face.

    "I don''t know," Maddie responded, matching the woman''s rigid smile.

    "I think he definitely saw it," Zack added, mimicking Maddie and his mother''s behavior.

    "He obviously saw it," Cody exclaimed, exasperated.

    "I saw it," I replied, still feeling slightly strange.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    This is the last chapter 100% focused on the development of Boston and I would like to say a couple of things about it:

    I hadn''t thought about this Boston development at all until I read your comments and knowing the story and its sequel I thought, "why not? It could be interesting" so I did a little research (I watched several chapters to fully remember the personality of the characters, as well as several summaries on YouTube and video essays about the show) but I forgot an essential part of my writing process, which is planning.

    I always have a general outline planned for what I am going to write in the future, for example, I had 100% planned for Teddy and Meredith to meet and become friends, but the development of Maddie and London was not something I planned in advance and that blocked me.

    So, I did what I could and flowed with what I had already done, but I haven''t felt completely comfortable with what I''ve done, so I hope you won''t be surprised when the rest of the trip is slightly summarized the next chapter, as I said, I decided that the next chapter will not be 100% development of Boston.

    By the way, I''m also sorry if anyone thought there would be a lot more development with any relationship between PJ and Maddie or London, as I said from the beginning of this mini arc in Boston, most of it would be completely filler as I developed the end of the first arc .

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 66

    Maddie, strategically with Gabe''s help, had devised some sort of plan in the form of a tour around the city, with many different types of conversation topics. Surely, the plan would have been much more extensive, something completely exaggerated, if I hadn¡¯t interrupted it. Fortunately for me, Gabe found it amusing to embarrass the teenager.

    As the days passed in Boston, and as the two girls had planned, they separated the days into dates with me. I had never visited so many places: museums, art galleries, stadiums, parks, theaters, and above all, malls I possibly knew every mall in Boston now, walking through them without buying anything grew enormously in London.

    Meredith and Teddy, as well as Gabe and the twins, found strong friendships with each other. So much so that after the first sleepover, Meredith was basically another guest in our suite.

    Besides spending time with my family or with the girls, Dr. Grey, as she had promised, had invited me, along with Dr. Thomas, to witness one of her surgeries. In her words, ''one of the interesting ones.''

    "I hope we get good seats. If it¡¯s really a surgery with the Grey procedure, the gallery is going to be completely full," Dr. Thomas said calmly as we walked through the hospital corridors.

    "Dr. Thomas, PJ, just in time," Dr. Grey, dressed in her surgical uniform and followed by a bunch of much younger doctors, obviously residents, said with some excitement.

    "Dr. Thomas, like Dr. Donnall Thomas, Nobel Prize winner?" one of the doctors behind Dr. Grey asked excitedly, making the always kind Dr. Thomas smile slightly and nod. "Sir, it''s an honor to meet you," the resident said, still excited, shaking Dr. Thomas¡¯s hand.

    One after another, the small army of residents behind Dr. Grey quickly approached Dr. Thomas, slowly but effectively pushing me behind the wall of people, each one waiting their turn to shake the doctor¡¯s hand and ask at least one question.

    "Ok, that''s enough," Dr. Grey ordered, clapping with a frown. "We have work to do, and Dr. Thomas¡¯s time is too precious to be wasted this way. Doctor," she said, nodding to the man. "PJ, what are you doing back there? Come on."

    Moving through a bunch of puzzled doctors, I followed Dr. Thomas and Dr. Grey. I could hear questions related to my identity, including the theory that I might be Dr. Grey''s son.

    "I¡¯ve been planning the operation for days. With Meredith out of the house, I had the opportunity to stay in the hospital to practice my technique much more," Dr. Grey said to Dr. Thomas with obvious excitement.

    "I see your procedure is still as famous as ever," Dr. Thomas declared amused, looking at all the people around us.

    "You know how surgery residents are, or at least how they should be, eager for interesting surgeries," Dr. Grey said, smiling at me. "I remember at Dr. Thomas¡¯s celebratory party, you knew the basics of the procedure, PJ. How¡¯s your current knowledge on the subject?" the woman asked me.

    "The Grey procedure is for selective hepatic resection. CT and ultrasound are used to precisely map the tumor and its relationship to hepatic vascular structures," I responded immediately.

    "What kind of preoperative preparation is done on a patient?"

    "Pharmacological agents to improve coagulation and reduce intraoperative bleeding."

    "Do you know the anatomical landmarks for the insertion of the trocars?" Dr. Grey asked again, smiling slightly along with Dr. Thomas.

    "Umbilical, subxiphoid, right midclavicular line, right anterior axillary line, and right midline," I responded from memory, recalling all the articles I had read and the videos I had seen on the subject.

    "Perfectly correct," Dr. Grey declared, strangely proud.

    "Where can we go up to the gallery?" Dr. Thomas asked, smiling.

    "Over there. I asked one of my residents to keep the best seats for you. It¡¯s also near the megaphone in case you have any questions," Dr. Grey said, pointing to a door and smiling kindly, an expression I quickly learned she only had when talking about medicine.

    From the gallery, along with other doctors, many of them standing due to lack of seats, we watched as the surgery began, from the presentation and explanation of the case by one of the nurses to the first small incision made by Dr. Grey.

    Dr. Grey answered and asked dozens of questions to and from the residents, often pausing slightly to make sure I fully understood the procedures, encouraging me to ask questions that she redirected to her residents.

    After the completely successful surgery, Dr. Thomas and consequently I were invited to chat with the hospital¡¯s surgeons, some of whom I already knew from my first visit to Boston.

    "I heard you¡¯re studying with Gregory House. Thanks to him, many hospitals in the country are trying to have a diagnostic department. Even we have one," the chief of surgery said to me with interest.

    "Oh yeah, I¡¯ve learned a lot from him in these few months," I said, smiling slightly.

    "You better be," the man said amused. "I heard from Dr. Parker, the head of our diagnostic department, that a few weeks ago he tried to send a case to Dr. House¡¯s office, and it was rejected. Apparently, they were already working on another case," the man continued, huffing, "Only work on one case at a time"

    "The cases Dr. House usually chooses are of great complexity," I explained, slightly embarrassed. "A few weeks ago, they were working on a case with a female patient presenting allergy symptoms on her hands'' skin, then she had a severe allergic attack to the antihistamine. After that, due to the applied epinephrine, she had a heart attack."

    "Previous heart conditions?" one of the doctors present in the room asked, interested.

    "No, the patient is young with good eating habits. There was nothing in her history indicating a previous heart condition," I responded, making several doctors lean in their chairs, thoughtful.

    "Infection?" one of the doctors asked. "Maybe cellulitis," he added.

    "No, there was no fever, and the CBC results didn¡¯t detect any infection," I responded immediately, recalling the case and the theories the doctors on House¡¯s team had made.

    After that, the surgeons, as if it were some kind of contest, began to theorize. Without the charts with them, I was the only one who could confirm or deny any theory.

    After several minutes, having heard everything from completely senseless theories to purely theoretical diseases, I finally gave the answer to the problem.

    "I never would have thought of a copper IUD, but it makes perfect sense. After receiving that donation, the allergy worsened," the chief of surgery said, impressed.

    "How did they think of that? That type of IUD was discontinued after nineteen eighty," one of the doctors said, surprised.

    "Dr. House¡¯s team always handles these types of cases; they¡¯re used to it," I responded, noticing how Dr. Thomas gave me a significant look.

    So the days passed in Boston. The last days we spent in the city with my family and Meredith. We went shopping at one of the many malls in the city, buying clothes for everyone, including Meredith, and souvenirs for the people back home.

    After saying goodbye to everyone, before we knew it, we were already on the plane back home.

    In Medford, after two weeks of not being on the move, the cars were incredibly dusty.

    "Mary got a job at her church. Isn¡¯t that fabulous? It¡¯s even consistent with her and her faith; she¡¯s so excited," Mom said after we returned home and she went to the neighbors to get any mail left at our house.

    "Good for her," Bob responded as we unloaded the suitcases from his car.

    "Yeah, it¡¯s just that she¡¯s worried because she won¡¯t have anyone to look after Miss services, and Sheldon, who will arrive a couple of hours before anyone else in her house," Mom said, slightly disappointed.

    "Why doesn¡¯t Teddy take care of it? I mean, she basically takes care of Gabe when he doesn¡¯t music lessons a couple of hours before Dad gets home," I said, carrying an incredibly heavy suitcase, surely full of Teddy¡¯s new clothes.

    "I thought about it too, but the job is so they can have a little extra money," Mom replied, shaking her head slightly.

    "Well, they''re going to be fine," I said, somewhat confident. "It''s Sheldon and Missy, they¡¯re smart," I assured, somewhat to myself again as I carried the suitcases into the house.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    "Only a keychain? You went to Boston, and you only brought us a keychain? Come on," the next day at school, Brock asked incredulously, looking at a small keychain in his hand.

    "Don''t be a baby, be grateful I even thought of you enough to bring you a keychain," I said jokingly while tapping the back of my friend''s head. In fact, I had some more gifts in the trunk of my car.

    "This is so cool, someday I''ll go to Boston," Georgie said, apparently delighted with his own keychain, staring at it while nodding.

    "It''s a great place," I assured him, lightly punching his shoulder. "Hey Kat! I got a keychain for you, from Boston." Kat, who was passing by in the hallway, didn''t stop when I called her. Walking several steps ahead of her friend, Mandella, she kept going, completely ignoring my voice, obviously upset. "Mandella?" I called to the other girl, who was obviously rushing to catch up with her friend, receiving a hurried and apologetic silent response.

    "Uh, you''re in trouble," David declared amusedly, pointing his finger at my chest.

    "Shut up," I responded, pushing his hand away, ignoring his laughter along with Brock''s.

    "There was a party a few days after New Year''s," David said after mocking me enough. "She was there, and she was mad, really mad, so whatever you did, it was pretty bad," he assured, exaggerating.

    "My mom heard that, um..." Brock was explaining, nervously stopping mid-sentence when he saw Alan, who as always, was quietly accompanying us.

    "Her mom abandoned them," Alan explained with a sigh, making Brock nod slightly, obviously embarrassed.

    I had some knowledge of family abandonment statistics. It was quite unusual, to begin with, for a mother to leave her family knowingly. It was obvious that everything depended on each family and their situations, but knowing the Stratford situation... unfortunately, it made a lot more sense for Alan''s family.

    "Are you going to talk to her?" David asked, losing all his good humor and suddenly becoming serious.

    "No, I don''t think it''s a good idea to pressure her to talk about it. It would be much better for her to decide for herself. After all, that''s what friends are for," I replied simply, glancing at Alan.

    The first day of classes after the holidays functioned merely as a review of the topics seen before the break, and before I knew it, the classes were over.

    "Aren''t you busy today?" Brock, who, along with my other friends, was following me to the school parking lot, asked.

    "Oh yeah, after this I''m going to the hospital," I explained as we walked toward my car.

    "Then why- oh yes," Brock was saying, immediately changing his expression upon seeing a bunch of bags in the trunk of my car.

    From every stadium and mall I had visited, I had bought at least one gift for each of my friends: Boston team shirts, caps, balls, basically any kind of gift.

    "This is so cool," Georgie said, trying on his cap, supported by the others who were also checking out their gifts.

    "Thanks," Alan quietly said with his own gifts in hand.

    Outside the hospital, rhythmically tapping the steering wheel of my car, I gathered enough courage to get out and enter the building.

    "Ah, PJ, you''re back home. I missed seeing you in the clinic. House has been more... you know, House, since you left," Fryday said as she walked toward the building when I got out of my car.

    "Impossible, more ''House'' than he already is, and it would be the start of the apocalypse, and at least I haven''t heard the trumpets," I joked, making the religious woman laugh.

    "Ah, I really missed you. It''s really good to have you back," she said, squeezing my arm as she walked down one of the hospital corridors, opposite the one I used to go to the diagnostics lounge.

    Inside the room, only House was there, playing with some kind of yo-yo. "Oh, look who''s back, ta ta rara!" House exaggeratedly said, pretending to have some kind of trumpet in his hands. "The prince himself. How is the Athens of America this time of year, your highness?"

    "Cold," I replied, ignoring House''s annoying act.

    "Of course, I remember the snowy nights; it''s not something I particularly miss now," House said sarcastically, raising his cane. "Are you expecting someone?"

    As I talked to House, I constantly glanced at the door of the lounge.

    "Ah, Chase," House said slowly, nodding. "Still carrying guilt for saving a patient''s life," House continued sarcastically.

    "No, I don''t feel guilty," I immediately clarified. "But I don''t want to be seen as someone without empathy..." I added, falling silent, staring at the man.

    "Uh, you hurt me," House declared exaggeratedly, clutching his chest.

    "As if you care," I scoffed.

    "Yeah, you''re right," House agreed nonchalantly, picking up his yo-yo again.

    "Obviously," I said, hanging my backpack where I always left it. "I''m going to the lab," I added.

    "Wait," House said before I could try to leave. "Two weeks, let me see it," he added, stretching out his hand.

    "Don''t phrase it like that," I said, going back to where I had left my backpack and taking out the almost completely filled notebook that House had given me to study people.

    Ignoring me, House opened the notebook to the last entry I had made. "Tipton," he said in surprise after reading for a few seconds. "Even saying it sounds like money," he added exaggeratedly, raising his eyebrows. "Sounds a lot like your cheerleader," he added arrogantly.

    "Yes, but at the same time completely different," I replied calmly.

    "Yeah, I know, it''s all here," House said sarcastically, lifting my notebook. "Surprisingly well-detailed. I can even see how stupid she is," he added ironically.

    "She''s not stupid," I declared immediately defending my friend.

    "Oh come on, ''incredibly innocent'' is just an easy way of saying she''s incredibly stupid," House declared in mild frustration, rolling his eyes. "Now, talk to me about this case, male, approximately forties, possible cardiac condition."

    And so the questioning of my notes began. We were both completely used to the task by now. Explaining my reasoning served as a great memory exercise, and House took full advantage of it. Questions about everything: eye color, smell, the type of socks they wore, different questions to which I occasionally, now very rarely, didn''t have an answer.

    "It''s almost time for you to need a new notebook. I''m sure if you asked Cuddy, she''d make it herself," House said sarcastically, handing the notebook back to me. "Now I have a new trick to practice, go away," he added, adjusting the yo-yo in his hand.

    Trying to ignore the man''s rude behavior, I left the office and headed to the skills lab. After two weeks without any practice, I wanted to have some kind of intensive training session with any skills I could practice with what was available in the hospital.

    As the day passed at the hospital, and once I had arranged all the test tools in the lab, I left for Case''s grounds.

    "Look who finally decided to show up," Tim said jokingly, already warming up and smiling.

    "I missed you too," I said sarcastically, throwing my giant friend a bag with the same type of gift I had given my other friends. "I stole it from Boston."

    "Obviously," Tim replied, laughing and checking out the stuff in his bag.

    "What''s going on here?" Case asked, with his always-present frown, as he came out of his trailer.

    "I have gifts," I said, lifting another bag in my hand, making the imposing man focus his attention on me. "Here," I added, slightly nervous, handing over his bag.

    Unlike my other friends, I had bought Case a new and elegant chessboard and pieces, as his was quite old.

    "Thanks," Case said, nodding curtly with the board out of the bag in his hand. "Now start warming up; we don''t have all day," he ordered, cutting off the brief moment of kindness as he walked back to his trailer.

    "Thanks, PJ," Tim said, patting my shoulder with the force his size implied.

    As Case had promised at Christmas, my training had changed its focus, at least for three days a week, where I focused entirely on punching and kicking techniques.

    "So, you resolved whatever was bothering you; that''s good," Case said seriously as we started a new game on the new board.

    "I accepted the decision I made," I replied, concentrating on the game.

    And so the days passed, and with them the week. With no new case at the hospital, I used each day to improve any necessary techniques for my medical career, as well as with Case. I had never felt my training so focused.

    Midway through the following week, during lunch at school, I decided to return a book I had borrowed from the library.

    "PJ, as always, it''s a pleasure to see you," Miss Hutchins said, smiling widely.

    "Likewise, Miss Hutchins," I replied, as always, feeling slightly strange about the way she looked at me.

    "I told you, you can call me Sheryl," she said again, smiling with her eyes extremely wide.

    Without responding, I forced a smile and walked into the library, planning to greet Tam and Sheldon, who were having lunch in the room.

    "Your lack of testosterone makes you adorable to women," I heard Tam say as I approached the table he and Sheldon were sharing.

    "I can''t argue with that," Sheldon agreed seriously.

    "Hey Sheldon, Tam," I said, surprised by the conversation, as I dragged one of the chairs over to their table.

    "PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said excitedly, once again using my full name.

    "Ah, PJ," Sheldon said, stretching his head as if he had a sudden idea. "Of the three of us, you have the most experience with people of the opposite gender."

    "Thanks?" I responded, nodding to my small friend.

    "It wasn''t a compliment," Sheldon said, puzzled by my response. "I was wondering if you had any advice for me. I''m going to talk to her," he continued, pointing to a solitary girl at another table. "I''d like to invite her to have lunch with us and possibly share a conversation about geostatistics."

    "Geostatistics?" I said incredulously, looking at the girl who was reading a book, possibly on the topic. "I see," I responded seriously to Sheldon. "Alright, I''ll tell you the secret to talking to girls," I said, lowering my voice and leaning in toward Sheldon, making Tam practically climb onto the table to listen.

    "I''m ready," Sheldon said seriously.

    "First, you approach her with a smile," I said, checking the surroundings before speaking, again making Tam slightly nervous as he received what seemed to him like privileged information. "You introduce yourself and ask if she''d like to join us," I quickly added, adjusting myself in the chair.

    "Got it," Sheldon said, nodding as he left his things on the table and stood up.

    Tam, who had obviously expected some kind of secret, moved his food in disappointment before focusing his attention on Sheldon and the girl.

    After a few seconds of talking to the girl, Sheldon turned to Tam and me, surprised. "She knows who I am. It''s going well," he declared, smiling, causing Tam to raise both thumbs proudly.

    The girl, obviously noticing what Sheldon did, looked at Tam strangely, then resumed her conversation with Sheldon before scanning the table again, this time noticing my presence, which seemed to surprise her.

    A moment later, Sheldon, followed by the girl, came over to the table I was sharing with Tam.

    "Hey, nice to meet you, PJ Duncan," I said, standing up to greet the girl.

    "I know who you are," she said, studying me, still surprised and seemingly incredulous about my presence, ignoring my hand entirely.

    "Okay," I said, puzzled, slowly lowering my hand.

    "I''m Tam," Tam said, smiling flirtatiously.

    "Hey," the girl responded, nodding to my Asian friend. "I''m Libby," she introduced herself.

    "And as I previously stated, I am Sheldon Cooper," Sheldon said professionally.

    "Are you really friends with them?" Libby asked me, still maintaining her incredulity and pointing at Sheldon and Tam, who was still smiling at her.

    "Oh definitely, PJ Duncan is my best friend," Tam responded quickly and proudly completely thirsty for the girl''s attention.

    Oh, Tam.

    "Yeah," I responded slowly.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    I finally finished the Boston arc, as I said it was completely summarized. There were certain things I absolutely had to develop with Boston, such as Meredith and Teddy''s friendship, as well as Ellis Grey''s invitation to a surgery.

    We''re getting closer to the end of the first volume. I initially thought each volume would last around 100 chapters, but I''m seeing that the first volume might only last between 80 to 90 chapters.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 67

    Thanks for the review :D (leave more please)

    Enjoy

    ---

    While Sheldon, Tam, and their new friend, Libby, were getting to know each other and talking about geology, I could feel a certain degree of rejection from the new girl towards me, even disgust.

    "Ok, so I think I''m going to the cafeteria," I said slowly, puzzled by the way Libby was still looking at me from time to time. "See you later, Sheldon, Tam. Nice to meet you, Libby," I added as I stood up.

    "See you later, PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said excitedly, smiling cheerfully.

    "See you later, PJ. Remember we have English after lunch. I hope to meet in front of your locker as usual," Sheldon said formally, straightening his back and clasping his hands on the table.

    "I''ll be there," I assured my little friend, nodding. Sheldon needed me to accompany him to the classroom to avoid getting trampled by the crowd of students.

    "Wait, can we talk?" Libby, who had been frowning during my brief final conversation with Sheldon, said, strangely furious as she stood up and walked quickly beside me, guiding me away from the table.

    While I was practically dragged by the girl, Tam, sitting silently at the table, gave me a thumbs-up with a slightly impressed smile, and Sheldon, like me, seemed completely intrigued by the way Libby was dragging me.

    "Is something going on?" I asked the girl after being dragged a few bookshelves away from the table, which now only Tam and Sheldon shared.

    "You bet," she said, crossing her arms and frowning in a strange attempt to look intimidating, warning me.

    "Ok," I said slowly, nodding. "Would you mind telling me what''s going on?" I asked, puzzled.

    "I don''t know what you''re planning with that little boy, but you need to stop," she warned seriously, pushing my chest with a finger.

    "I don''t¡ª" I started to say, but the strangely furious girl interrupted me.

    "Oh, you know what I''m talking about," Libby said, advancing again in a sad attempt to be intimidating, though obviously, she was failing completely. "You''re PJ Duncan. The whole school knows you. You even made it to the newspaper they say you''re a prodigy, but I don''t believe it. You''re taking advantage of that boy," she accused, pointing towards where Sheldon and Tam were.

    "What?" I asked, offended, immediately understanding her hostility. "Where did you get that idea? Sheldon and Tam are my friends," I declared seriously.

    "Oh, please, ''friends''?" she said with disdain in her voice. "You''re a jock. They''re not your friends. If I ever find out you''re doing anything to them¡ª" she said, raising her finger in front of my face again.

    "Let me stop you right there," I said, raising my voice slightly, not wanting to disturb the others in the library, "I don''t care what you think of me, but I don''t appreciate being threatened, especially when you''re completely wrong."

    "I''m sorry, what is going on?" suddenly Sheldon asked, intrigued, approaching where Libby and I were arguing. "Tam and I heard you arguing and even heard PJ raise his voice, but not loud enough to be disruptive. Kudos for that," Sheldon said kindly, smiling at me.

    "Go on, ask him," I said arrogantly to Libby, nodding towards the small boy.

    "Sheldon, has Duncan ever asked you to do his homework or take a test for him?" Libby asked seriously, her arms crossed, increasingly frustrated.

    "Oh, I wish!" Sheldon declared excitedly. "That would mean PJ is admitting to being cognitively inferior to me, and we wouldn''t have to compete anymore to prove it."

    "Compete?" Libby asked incredulously, taken by surprise.

    "Oh, yeah, PJ and I have been competing in every class since the beginning of the school year," Sheldon declared proudly.

    "A competition that, if I recall correctly, I am currently winning," I said, amused by the surprised reaction of the boy.

    "Because of Georgie," Sheldon murmured, clearly annoyed.

    "Now, Sheldon, could you explain to Libby here why we have a ''schedule'' to meet in front of my locker?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, enjoying Libby''s expression of realization.

    "Sure. Your height and growing musculature, like your friends'', serve perfectly as a shield from the rest of the student body," Sheldon explained unabashedly.

    "Well, thanks, Sheldon," I said, smiling at my young friend. "Now, I bet you feel dumb," I murmured to the incredulous girl as I walked towards the library exit, feeling much better.

    "You''re welcome," I heard Sheldon say proudly before I left the library.

    The rest of the school day passed without any issues. Sheldon, seemingly ignoring the context of my argument with Libby, spent the classes as usual, competing with me at every opportunity.

    "Hey!" Georgie, smiling broadly, approached me during football practice. "Did you know Sheldon has a girlfriend?" he asked, amused.

    "Libby," I said while warming up.

    "Wow, how did you know?" my ''innocent'' friend asked, impressed.

    "I met her during lunch," I explained.

    "But we ate lunch together," Georgie said, incredibly surprised.

    "Georgie, I arrived at the cafeteria later than you guys, remember?" I asked, incredulous at my friend''s behavior.

    "Oh, yeah," Georgie said, nodding as his expression showed he was remembering lunch. "That sandwich was really good."

    The days passed, and aside from short conversations about rocks on the way to class with an unusually excited Sheldon, nothing changed in my routine.

    "What''s going on with Sheldon?" I asked my friend on Friday night after returning from practice with Case, drinking sodas with Georgie in the front yard of my house while listening to music, and watching Sheldon frantically clean the windows of his house.

    "Oh, he''s mad because my mom didn''t let him go to a movie or something with his girlfriend," Georgie explained, drinking his root beer. "Do you think regular beer tastes like this?" he asked, raising his can.

    "I''m sure it does. Keep drinking that," I replied, reclining in my chair.

    Several minutes after watching Sheldon clean his house''s windows, my little friend calmly walked over to where Georgie and I were comfortably seated.

    "Good evening, PJ," Sheldon said kindly, smiling.

    "Hey buddy, want one?" I asked, pulling a soda can from the cooler on the ground.

    "Oh, no thanks," Sheldon replied immediately, standing silently in front of us.

    "Do you need something? Want a chair?" I asked again, noticing the boy had no intention of moving.

    "Sitting out here, where birds are, you have a great sense of humor PJ," Sheldon said ironically, smiling. "I wanted to ask if you''re free tomorrow?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of his abdomen.

    "Well, I have practice around this time, but the rest of the day I''m free, I suppose. Why, what do you need?" I asked the boy.

    "My mom thinks it would be much safer for me if you came with us. She also wants to meet Libby because she''s going to drive. So, since you''re free, would you like to enjoy a geology exhibit and a space shuttle movie in IMAX at the Museum of Natural Science in Houston?"

    "So your mom wants me to come to accompany you?" I asked, sighing at the idea of going to see a rock exhibit.

    "It''s obvious if you think about it. In our neighborhood, you have the most medical experience; next is your own mother, being an athlete, you''re fit enough to defend me if any altercation occurs, after Libby, you''re the only one with driving knowledge and also, even if you are not legally an adult, you are responsible as one" Sheldon explained calmly.

    "Yeah, those are very good reasons," I said, nodding, amused. "But I don''t think it''s a good idea, Sheldon," I admitted, immediately seeing his incredulous look. "I don''t think Libby likes me very much, and I wouldn''t want to ruin your trip."

    "On the contrary," Sheldon said immediately. "She seems very interested in you. She had many questions," he added, nodding innocently.

    "I assure you it''s not the good kind of interest," I said, amused. "But I''ll tell you what, buddy, if you really need me to come, I can do it just for tomorrow."

    "Ok, thanks, Georgie," Sheldon said, nodding to his brother as a farewell and walking back to his house, completely unashamed.

    "Thank God he didn''t want me to go with him," Georgie said, completely relieved.

    "Did you hear the reasons why your mom felt safe with me accompanying them?" I asked, amused.

    "Yeah," Georgie replied, ignoring what I was implying with my question, turning up the music and leaning back in his chair.

    "So ''innocent,''" I murmured, amused, enjoying the music as well.

    The next day, after my morning routine, which, being the weekend, was a bit later than usual, Sheldon arrived at our house.

    "Good morning, PJ," Sheldon said, standing exactly like some strange kind of door-to-door salesman. "In theory, Tam and Libby will arrive in a few minutes. Would you like to wait at my house? My mom made lemonade."

    "Sure," I said, taking my keys and following Sheldon to his house. "I''ll be back later," I told Gabe, who was watching TV on the living room sofa.

    "Ok," he replied, raising his thumb without turning around.

    "Ah, PJ, would you like a glass of lemonade?" Mrs. Cooper kindly asked at the Cooper''s house.

    "Yes, I would love one, thank you," I said, smiling at the woman.

    "Sheldon, could you serve PJ some lemonade, please?" she said, as Sheldon immediately nodded, walking formally out of the living room. "Would you like to sit down?" she added, pointing to a sofa.

    Mrs. Cooper, looking towards where Sheldon had gone, waited a few seconds before turning to me.

    "Before Tam and Libby arrive, I''d like you to know something," Mrs. Cooper said quickly, apparently having some trouble saying Libby''s name. "All of this is because I want to meet that girl. Normally, I would feel completely at ease with you present there," she assured me, seemingly worried I might take my presence there the wrong way.

    "Oh, don''t worry about it. I completely understand," I assured the woman.

    "Oh, thank God," Mrs. Cooper said, relieved. "Do you happen to know this Libby girl?" a moment later secretly she asked, interested.

    "Oh, well, I met her a few days ago. She seems like a good person," I responded. "Also intelligent. She was reading about a topic advanced for school," I added, noticing Mrs. Cooper wanted to know more.

    "That''s all?" Mrs. Cooper asked nervously.

    "Well, she was obviously interested in Sheldon''s well-being," I admitted. "She seemed to think I was using Sheldon for his homework, like a bully or something."

    "Oh, that''s funny," Mrs. Cooper said, laughing lightly. "You bullying Sheldon," she added, amused, though a few seconds later, I saw the idea grow in her mind while frowning.

    "What''s going on?" Sheldon asked, carrying a tray with a single glass of lemonade.

    "Oh, nothing, honey," quickly Mrs. Cooper replied.

    "Thank you, Sheldon," I said, taking the glass from the tray he was carrying.

    "You''re welcome. Here''s also a coaster," he added, placing a circular plastic piece on the coffee table.

    "Ok, I''ll make sure to use it," I said, putting the glass on the coaster.

    "Thank you," Sheldon said with relief.

    "Bullying," I heard Mrs. Cooper murmur with a slight laugh.

    After a few minutes of Sheldon telling me about everything he found interesting about the museum we were supposedly going to, the Coopers'' doorbell rang.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    "Oh boy, they''re here," Sheldon said excitedly, standing up immediately, followed by his mother.

    Mrs. Cooper opened the door. "Hi there, please come in, have a seat."

    "You have a beautiful home," Libby said as she entered with Tam.

    "Thank you," both Sheldon and Mrs. Cooper responded at the same time, making Mrs. Cooper look at Sheldon, puzzled.

    "Duncan," Libby said, surprised to see me in the Coopers'' living room, stopping for a moment.

    "Libby," I nodded to the girl as a greeting, amused as her expression immediately turned slightly embarrassed.

    "Oh PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said, smiling widely as he saw me.

    "Tam," I greeted the boy, still finding it strange that he used my full name.

    "What are you doing here?" the intrigued girl asked, forcing a smile as she took a seat on the same sofa as me, on the other side of Tam, who was in the middle of us, fortunately.

    "Oh, PJ was very kind to offer to accompany you. I feel much safer if he goes with you," Mrs. Cooper responded.

    "Also, PJ is our neighbor," Sheldon added.

    "Yeah, his car is outside, pretty cool," Tam said, smiling slowly, making me silently thank him with a smile and a wink.

    "Ok, I hope you''ll forgive me," Mrs. Cooper said to Libby, changing the conversation. "I just wanted to meet the person driving my nine-year-old son to Houston."

    "I understand," Libby responded.

    "Me, too," Tam suddenly added.

    "I wasn''t talking to you, Tam," Mrs. Cooper said harshly. "I just wanted to make certain that you''ve had no traffic tickets or, heaven forbid, accidents," the woman said seriously to Libby.

    "No, ma''am," the girl immediately assured.

    "Even if you''re not, I''d prefer you to say it now, and I''m sure PJ could drive you there," Mrs. Cooper said.

    "That would be pretty cool. I''ve always wanted to ride in your car," Tam immediately said.

    "Tam," Mrs. Cooper warned seriously, silencing the Vietnamese boy again.

    "You''ve got nothing to worry about, ma''am," Libby assured. "I''m a very safe driver."

    "Good, good," Mrs. Cooper said, relieved. "Have you made this trip before?"

    "A few times, yes," Libby responded, making Mrs. Cooper nod.

    "You smoke marijuana?" Mrs. Cooper asked suddenly, trying to catch the girl by surprise.

    "Mom!" Sheldon exclaimed, obviously embarrassed.

    "No, ma''am," Libby assured calmly.

    "Just say no," Tam said again, making Mrs. Cooper simply stare at him this time, causing the boy to lower his head, disappointed.

    "Well, I find this very reassuring," Mrs. Cooper said, relieved. "I have to admit, I had some trepidation, but having met you, I''m feeling a lot better."

    "Good," Sheldon said cheerfully.

    "You''ve got nothing to worry about, Mrs. Cooper," Libby assured kindly. "I''ve been babysitting kids for years," she added, and from Sheldon''s expression, I was sure it wasn''t the best choice of words.

    "Excuse me," Sheldon said, much paler than usual, which was worrying. "I don''t feel well," he continued, visibly worrying his mother. "You''ll have to go without me," he added, walking away from the living room.

    "Oh my," Mrs. Cooper murmured, watching her son leave melancholically. "I''m sorry to waste your time, Libby, but it seems Sheldon won''t be accompanying you guys. Also, thank you for coming here, PJ," she added, smiling slightly.

    "Don''t worry, ma''am," Libby assured, apparently puzzled by the whole situation.

    "Yeah, don''t worry," Tam said, this time being ignored by everyone.

    "Don''t worry, Mrs. Cooper, this was a fun chat," I said, patting Tam''s shoulder and standing up. "Thanks for the lemonade."

    "Well, see you later," outside the Cooper''s house I said to the two uncomfortable teenagers.

    "Wait, where are you going?" Tam asked.

    "Don''t get me wrong, but the only reason I was going with you was to accompany Sheldon," I said to a disappointed Tam. "But hey, I''m sure you two can have fun with... the rocks," I added.

    "Oh, yeah," Tam said slowly, seemingly getting some kind of message as he smiled widely moving his eyebrows significantly.

    "Rocks?" Libby asked, looking offended for some reason.

    "Like I said, have fun," I said, walking home.

    "I thought you had left," coming out of the kitchen in our house with a glass of water, Gabe said.

    "What are you talking about? I''ve been here all day," I said, looking at my brother strangely.

    Sighing before raising his shoulders, Gabe sat back on the sofa.

    "I''m not at all worried about your future," I said, hugging my brother by the shoulder, watching Scooby-Doo with him.

    Days passed again. It was Tuesday, and after the second period, I left with Brock, heading to our lockers to meet the others.

    "Hey Porker, after class?" In the hallway, a couple of extremely disheveled guys pushed Brock while passing, laughing unpleasantly as they walked.

    "What was that?" I asked, watching the guys walk away.

    "My senior friends," Brock responded cheerfully. "We hang out after class. They''re pretty cool."

    ''Pretty cool'' seemed like two idiots to me. "Ok... what do you do after school?" I asked, slightly interested. I didn''t like to think that my friend was being bullied.

    "I don''t know, we make jokes and... Wait a minute, you''re jealous!" Brock exclaimed, smiling obviously excited.

    "Yeah, I''m jealous that you hang out with more friends besides us," I said, rolling my eyes exasperatedly.

    "Oh come on, don''t feel bad for having feelings, we all have them," Brock declared, hugging my shoulder tightly.

    "I''ll kick your ass," I joked while walking with my friend.

    "If you need a shoulder to cry on after doing that, I''ll be ready," Brock declared.

    After school, at the hospital, in the ER waiting rooms on my way to the diagnostics lounge, I encountered House sitting in one of the armchairs in the emergency room waiting area, reading a newspaper with his legs on a small table.

    "Of course, it''s the alcohol!" he suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of many people around him. "Hello! This guy''s a professional doctor, plays golf and everything, I bet," he continued sarcastically, standing up and walking toward a doctor who seemed to be arguing with some kid.

    Should I interfere in this?

    "Hey JP, come and hear this," House ordered me.

    "Well, seems like I have no choice now," I murmured.

    "He''s not gonna tell you your mom''s an alcoholic without proof," House said sarcastically, pointing at the other doctor. "I''m sure he scoped for varices, checked her esophagus, ran all kinds of blood tests. A doctor like this, they don''t make assumptions; they do the work."

    "I''d be happy to refer you the case, Dr. House," the other doctor said, obviously exasperated by House''s words. "You seem so interested."

    "What case? It''s over," House declared sarcastically. "You''re sending her home."

    "PJ," the other doctor said, calming his tone, asking for my help.

    What, now I''m some kind of nanny for House? "Sure," I responded to the man.

    "Thanks," the doctor said, handing me a chart and walking away from where we were.

    "What, you''re my nanny?" House asked, right?.

    "How old is she?" House asked the boy now that the other doctor had left.

    "You''re a doctor?" the boy asked House, incredulous about the whole interaction.

    "Own my own stethoscope," House responded.

    "Yes, he is," I added, assuring the boy.

    "Sorry, did I ask you how old she was? I forget," House asked sarcastically.

    "Oh, she''s thirty-eight," the boy responded quickly.

    "Strange," House murmured, obviously more interested.

    "What''s up?" I asked.

    "My mom," the boy explained, opening a notebook apparently full of notes. "She''s got a deep vein thrombosis."

    "Really strange," I said, agreeing with House. "Did she have any accidents, blows, or falls?" I asked the boy.

    "No, I would notice," the boy said immediately holding up some kind of notebook apparently filled with post-its and notes.

    "What do you have there?" House asked, looking at the boy''s notebook.

    "Oh, just my notes, I have everything here, from the first diagnosis to the current one" the boy admitted, slightly embarrassed.

    "That will be very useful," I said, raising my hand, smiling at the boy, but internally puzzled by the boy''s need to make so many notes.

    "Useful?" he asked, handing me his notebook.

    "Yeah, congratulations, kid, you got a doctor interested in your mom''s case," House said sarcastically. "You, nurse, come and admit this boy''s mom," he rudely added, stopping one of the hospital nurses walking down the hallway.

    "Sure, Dr. House," the nurse said, clenching her jaw, obviously annoyed by his rudeness.

    "See you in the lounge, I''m going to call your brothers," House said, snatching the notebook and chart from my hand and leaving without saying anything else.

    "Thanks, Matilda," I said slightly embarrassed by how House treated her, pressing the nurse''s shoulder slightly.

    "Oh, don''t mention it, PJ, after all, it''s my job," the nurse said ironically.

    "Are you also a doctor?" the boy asked, incredulous, seeing my backpack.

    I needed a place to store my books.

    "Don''t you know him?" Matilda, the nurse, asked, surprised. "He''s PJ Duncan," she said, making the boy surprised to hear my name. "From the newspaper," she added, and I noticed the boy didn''t didn''t recognize my name for that reason.

    "So, are you a doctor?" he asked, now seemingly nervously avoiding my gaze.

    "Well¡ª" I was saying, but Nurse Matilda interrupted me.

    "He''s not one yet, but I assure you he''s much better than... other doctors," the nurse said harshly, obviously having someone in mind.

    "Thanks, but that might be an exaggeration," I said, making the nurse chuckle. "Hey man, I''ll leave you in the incredibly capable hands of Nurse Matilda here. She''ll accompany you to admit your mom," I said, pressing the shoulder of the still strangely nervous boy slightly.

    In the diagnostics lounge, the four doctors were already present. House was writing on his board what I could imagine was the new patient''s data.

    "Hello," I greeted those present.

    "Hey PJ," and now only Cameron responded.

    One out of three, way to step up my game.

    "Ok, now that we''re all here," House said, clapping in his typical sarcastic tone. "A thirty-eight-year-old woman with no previous symptoms or history presents with deep vein thrombosis. How did she get it?"

    "Oral contraceptives, smoking, diabetes, obesity," Dr. Foreman said frustratedly, listing the common causes. "What''s the point here? A D.V.T. is a D.V.T. Put her on I.V. Heparin to prevent future clots," he added, exasperated. "What''s the big mystery?"

    "Fine, you''re all sleepy, obviously you need a hint. Kid," House said.

    "The age," I responded immediately.

    "Yeah, she''s twenty years too young to get a deep vein thrombosis," House added obviously, looking incredulously at his employees.

    "I treated a twelve-year-old girl once, a soccer player," Dr. Foreman said, unimpressed with the idea. "She got kicked in the leg," he added.

    "There was no trauma," I negated immediately.

    "And none of the risk factors," House added.

    "You took a history?" Cameron asked, impressed.

    "I got some notes," House said, raising the notebook he snatched from my hands. "They''re not mine, but they''re reliable, I think, for the purposes of this discussion. And as for the immobility, well, she''s real active right now. Of course, paranoia keeps her limber."

    "Paranoia?" Dr. Foreman asked, surely expressing the same question as the others.

    "Oh, yeah," House nodded. "She''s schizophrenic," he explained as if it were nothing. "And her kid wrote this, so it might be a little biased, you know, having to take care of his nutso mom and all."

    Hearing House''s words, everyone else in the room looked at him incredulously.

    "You think there''s a connection? Do we include schizophrenia in the differential for D.V.T?" House asked mockingly.

    "Well¡ª" Dr. Foreman was saying.

    "The answer is no," House interrupted immediately. "Abnormal dopaminergic pathways in the brain do not cause blood clots. Schizophrenia is not the cause of D.V.T."

    "Okay, so we''re ignoring schizophrenia for the diagnosis, but again, D.V.T," Dr. Foreman said, slightly exasperated.

    "Correct, and it''s our job to find out why," House said, walking out of the room. "Your new bible, study it and pass it to the rest of the class," he added, handing me the boy''s notebook.

    "I don''t study the bible," I said, tapping the notebook in my hand.

    "Come on, you live in Texas," House said sarcastically, leaving the lounge.

    After House, the other three doctors also left the room, leaving me alone with the patient''s chart and her son''s notebook.

    At least the notebook was well-structured.

    On some occasions the boy would simply write down the date, phone number and name of the doctor he took his mother to, fortunately there were not many names.

    Using the phone in House''s office I called the few names in the notebook to ask a couple of questions on House''s behalf.

    "Hey kid, did you find anything interesting?" After several hours and many dozens of pages read, House asked me as he walked to his desk.

    "I made some follow-up calls with some of the doctors present," I said, pushing the notebook in front of him, "other than a visit to an ophthalmologist, there wasn''t much of interest, at least until today she had a 0.12 blood alcohol level even though her son wrote that the last alcohol she had was three days ago," I said, pointing to one of the last pages in the notebook that I had marked.

    "Yeah, I heard that." Taking the notebook from my hand, he read the part I had marked for him.

    "Do you believe the kid?" I asked seriously. If it''s true and the woman hadn''t consumed more alcohol today, then we had more symptoms to consider.

    "He''s a good kid," he said slowly, placing the notebook on his desk.

    "That doesn''t answer my question."

    "No, it doesn''t." Leaning back thoughtfully in his chair, House replied.

    At that moment, House''s pager went off. "What''s happening?" I asked, seeing the man frown, but not receiving a response.

    Several minutes later, Cameron and Dr. Foreman arrived at the lounge. House had called Foreman from his office, leaving Cameron and me outside.

    "So, when I said no psych meds, I''m just curious¡ª which word didn''t you understand?" House sarcastically asked Dr. Foreman talking loud enough that we could even hear outside.

    "The Haldol had nothing to do with the bleed, you know that." Dr. Foreman defended himself. "I used it purely as a chemical restraint."

    "Oh, great," House declared with false relief. "Well, that''s good to hear, so she won''t experience any of those pesky little side effects you get when your motives aren''t pure. Oh, wait," he added ironically.

    "Those side effects are so rare!" Dr. Foreman defended himself, annoyed.

    "What, passing out, increased confusion, depression?" House asked. "That''s not gonna happen," he responded sarcastically. "That''s not gonna screw up our diagnosis, ''cause you just used it to restrain her. I''m so relieved."

    "She spit on my face," Dr. Foreman exclaimed indignantly.

    "That must have been so frightening for you," House mocked.

    "What was I supposed to do, tie her down?" Dr. Foreman asked.

    "Yeah," House replied as if it were obvious.

    "What happened?" Without intending to interrupt the other doctors'' discussion, I leaned slightly and asked Cameron.

    "The patient bled out two units."

    "The clotting studies," Chase said, arriving from the hallway. "Pretty fast. Did you promise to date the entire lab?" Ignoring me, he asked Cameron.

    "No, I save that for emergencies," Cameron replied monotonously. "I told them she bled out two units, and if it happened again, she''d die," he added, taking the papers from Chase''s hand.

    "If it had happened at home, she would have died," Chase said, disappointed. "And the ER doctor was gonna send her home."

    "May I?" When Cameron finished reading the test results, I asked immediately, receiving the document.

    "I used my best judgment," Dr. Foreman exclaimed.

    "It turns out your best judgment is not good enough. Here''s an idea: next time, use mine," House responded.

    "I think they''re choosing a movie," Cameron said sarcastically.

    "Why did the patient bleed out?" House asked, coming out of his office.

    "The clotting studies so far are normal," Cameron replied.

    "Well, cover your ears if you don''t want me to spoil the ending," House said arrogantly. "Everything was normal, except for a prolonged P.T. time, which means what?" he asked.

    "Usually it means whoever drew the blood didn''t do it right," Dr. Foreman said, exasperated.

    "Oh, that''s right, because you drew the blood," House said. "But you were precise because you knew the tube was purely for the P.T. study."

    "That''s right," Dr. Foreman responded.

    "And I''m right with you. I trust this result for two reasons: A) because you are a good doctor, and B) because five milligrams of I.V. Haldol makes for a spectacularly cooperative patient," House declared ironically.

    House''s words, obviously irritating Dr. Foreman, caused him to walk away from the conversation.

    "The prolonged P.T. time makes me think she''s got a vitamin K deficiency," House declared, ignoring Dr. Foreman.

    "Vitamin K would explain the bleed, but not the clot," Cameron disagreed.

    "Without vitamin K, protein C doesn''t work. Without protein C, she clots," House explained. "Clotting and thinning all at the same time."

    "What about another drug interacting with Heparin, an antibiotic like ampicillin?" Cameron asked. "That would cause the bleed."

    "She''s not on ampicillin," I disagreed. "Two months ago she complained of a sore throat, and her son got her ampicillin, which she refused to take," I explained, recalling the information from the notebook.

    "He just said she didn''t take it. What is it, everybody lies except for schizophrenics and their children?" Cameron asked, exasperated.

    "It''s more likely than malnourishment. Why not scurvy or the plague?" Chase asked.

    "I wish my idea was as cool and with it as yours," House said, pretending to be impressed. "What is yours, by the way? Do you have one?"

    "Alcohol," Chase responded immediately. "It causes immobility, which explains the D.V.T."

    "It also causes cirrhosis," I nodded. "If it''s true that the woman didn''t drink more alcohol today, the 0.12 blood alcohol level can be explained by liver damage."

    "Yeah, it also explains the bleed and the prolonged P.T. time," Chase said, glancing at me. "Let''s ultrasound the liver."

    "Three theories," House said, amused. "Check out her place for ampicillin and diet," he said, nodding to Chase and Dr. Foreman. "Then ultrasound her liver. Let''s find out who''s right before she bleeds to death."

    "Let''s go," Dr. Foreman told Chase with a nod.

    "Wait," House said with a broad smile. "Take the kid with you," he added, patting my shoulder, which made both Chase and Dr. Foreman frown.

    Great.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    Normally this chapter would be uploaded an hour ago, but I''m going to try to post at different times from now on to see when I can attract more readers.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 68

    In this chapter, the ever-present reminder at the end of each chapter is more important than ever, so I¡¯ll say it again here: I am NOT a doctor.

    Enjoy :D

    ---

    "House, this is not a good idea," Dr. Foreman quickly said.

    "Oh, why not?" House asked, feigning intrigue.

    "You know why. We''re not going on a field trip; we''re going to break into a house," Dr. Foreman responded seriously, frowning. "That''s not something a teenager should be doing."

    "What?!" House exclaimed. "Break in? Since when do we do that?" he asked, feigning exaggerated surprise.

    "Are you done?" Dr. Foreman asked, unimpressed with House''s theatrics.

    "Yeah," House responded, disappointed that no one played along. "Take him with you. He''s the only one who read the kid''s notebook; he might see something you don''t," House continued, smiling sinisterly. "No, there¡¯s no time for you to read it," he added, interrupting Dr. Foreman, who seemed about to say something more. "Besides, I¡¯m sure the kid does worse things like drinking alcohol, drugs or God forbid taking books out of the library without checking them out."

    Exhaling in obvious irritation, Dr. Foreman, followed by Chase, left the room.

    "Have fun," House said to me with an abnormally wide smile.

    I caught up with Dr. Foreman and Chase in relatively little time. Obviously, both were completely ignoring me as they walked toward the hospital exit.

    "Which car are we taking, yours or mine?" Dr. Foreman asked Chase as they stood outside in the parking lot.

    "We could take that one," Chase said, smiling as he pointed directly at ¡®Debbie.¡¯

    "Yeah, sure," Dr. Foreman replied with a scoff. "What is it anyway?" he asked, moving closer with interest.

    "It''s a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS," I finally responded, making both doctors acknowledge my existence.

    "Of course, you know about cars," Dr. Foreman muttered, strangely jealous, as he turned his back on me again.

    "It''s my car," I added, once more drawing the full attention of the two doctors, who were now completely surprised, looking at me and then at ¡®Debbie.¡¯

    I was quite proud of the condition in which I kept my car, and it was obviously a good feeling that someone liked it.

    "We¡¯re taking my car," Chase quickly said, apparently a bit embarrassed, avoiding looking in the direction where ''Debbie'' was parked while we were walking several spaces away to his own car¡ªa slightly dirty green vehicle, but visibly well-maintained.

    Inside Chase¡¯s car, while we drove to the family''s residence, Chase and Dr. Foreman discussed the case.

    "I still don¡¯t understand why this patient fascinated House so much," Dr. Foreman asked.

    "Schizophrenia," Chase immediately responded. "He might be intrigued that a thirty-eight-year-old woman has a D.V.T., but I bet anything that he decided to treat her when he heard she had schizophrenia."

    "Well, whatever the reason, I just hope we can help the woman. I think she¡¯s already suffered enough," Dr. Foreman said while rummaging through Chase''s cassette tapes, which oddly made Chase snort dismissively.

    "Yeah, sure, ¡®she,¡¯ the real victim here is her son. The mother is an alcoholic," Chase declared confidently.

    I couldn''t help but silently marvel at the slight hypocrisy of Chase. He was so upset with me for the unethical way I had treated the nun to save her life, and here he was, judging a thirty-eight-year-old woman with schizophrenia... Wait.

    I didn¡¯t have the kid¡¯s notebook with me, but I clearly remembered that the schizophrenia diagnosis had been made just six months ago. The average age of schizophrenia diagnosis in women is about eighty percent between twenty-five and thirty-five years old; after that, the rate drops precipitously. In the patient¡¯s age group, it was less than ten percent.

    There weren¡¯t many diseases that mimic schizophrenia, but if I added partial vision loss and possible liver damage, possibly cirrhosis, into the mix...

    Wilson''s.

    "P.J.!" Chase exclaimed, looking at me curiously alongside Dr. Foreman. "We''re here. Are you okay?" he asked monotonously.

    "Yeah, sorry," I replied, deeply absorbed in my thoughts. I needed more evidence.

    "Look, I know what House said, but if you don¡¯t want to do this, it¡¯s fine. We can say you came in with us and didn¡¯t find anything. It¡¯s not worth it for you to come along," Dr. Foreman said, strangely kind.

    "No, I''m fine, let''s go," I immediately responded, opening the car door. I had to quickly find evidence; if my theory was correct, the woman had been misdiagnosed with schizophrenia.

    "Of course," I overheard Chase murmur sarcastically.

    Inside an apartment building, in front of the door of the small family''s apartment, Chase tried for a couple of seconds to open the locked door with a credit card before Foreman, saying he took it from the kid¡¯s backpack, opened the door with the key.

    "Looks like Luke sleeps in the living room," Chase said inside the surprisingly well-organized and clean small apartment, before we separated to search the place.

    The kid¡¯s name was Luke. I had no idea.

    The apartment basically consisted of four areas: the living room, a bathroom, a kitchen, and the bedroom.

    While Dr. Foreman searched the bathroom and Chase the only bedroom, I decided to thoroughly search the living room, or as it seemed to be organized, Luke¡¯s bedroom.

    "Nothing in there," Dr. Foreman said, leaving the bathroom and walking to the bedroom where Chase was searching.

    From the moment I saw the kid, I knew he was obviously not eighteen. The type of books on a small desk now confirmed he was just in middle school.

    Underneath a small coffee table in the center of the living room, there was a metal box filled with various medications.

    "Pick that up on your psych rotation?" Dr. Foreman asked Chase as he left the bedroom. "What do you have there?" he asked, approaching with interest to check the contents of the box.

    "Medications," I replied, taking out pill bottles and arranging them on the coffee table.

    "Trifluoperazine, Thorazine, Clozaril," Dr. Foreman read aloud as he picked up each bottle. "They tried everything," he added, disheartened.

    "Ampicillin," I said, finding one of the bottles. "It¡¯s full," I added, shaking the small bottle.

    "There goes Cameron''s theory," Dr. Foreman remarked.

    "Oh, God, I hope it¡¯s not a vitamin K deficiency," Chase added, walking to the kitchen, defeated.

    Now disinterested in the medications, Dr. Foreman put the bottles he had taken back into the box before following Chase. But these medications interested me.

    The Trifluoperazine, Thorazine, and Clozaril, combined with an excess of copper in the blood caused by Wilson¡¯s, could have severe side effects on the liver, even potentially causing solid masses, cancer.

    "Damn," I heard Chase say a moment later, prompting me to put the remaining bottles back in the box before placing it in its original spot.

    "House was right," Dr. Foreman said in the kitchen, standing by the open freezer. Inside, there were half a dozen packages of frozen hamburgers.

    "Well, let¡¯s take one of these to House," Chase said, obviously disappointed, as he grabbed a box.

    On the way back to the hospital, apart from the music that Dr. Foreman had put on the radio, there was nothing but silence, which allowed me to focus on building my theory.

    At the hospital, in the diagnostics lounge, Cameron told Dr. Foreman and Chase where House was, prompting the two doctors to leave in search of him.

    Meanwhile, I gathered everything we had on the patient again; I wanted to read it one more time.

    "Did you know today is House¡¯s birthday?" Cameron suddenly asked, breaking the silence, strangely sad.

    "Really?" I asked, surprised, without taking my eyes off the blood test results.

    "Yes..." Cameron said, drawing out the word. "Do you think it¡¯s a good idea to buy him a gift?" she asked.

    It was such a sudden question that I couldn''t help but chuckle at the idea of someone trying to give House a gift. Knowing him, he¡¯d take anything that wasn¡¯t extremely expensive as an insult.

    "Were you serious?" I asked incredulously after a few seconds of silence from Cameron. "It''s House," I reminded her. "I assure you, if you congratulate him, instead of thanking you sincerely, he¡¯ll ask how you know," I said, noticing recognition in Cameron¡¯s expression. She¡¯d already tried it.

    "But maybe we could buy him a gift together," she added, slightly hopeful, making me pause.

    "Look, if you really want to do it, I can chip in for whatever," I said. "But I''m telling you, it¡¯s a bad idea, he will just use your good intentions to make fun of you in some way." I continued seriously.

    "Yeah, you may be right," Cameron said, nodding in disappointment a moment later as she stood up and left the room.

    Definitely, congratulating House or giving him a gift for any occasion is a bad move.

    Having read through the kid''s notebook along with my notes, as well as the medical history we had on his mother, I was much more confident, hopeful, in my diagnosis.

    A few minutes after I finished reading everything again, House arrived at the lounge with Luke.

    "Hey kid, did you find anything?" House asked when he saw me with all the papers spread out on the lounge table.

    Seeing the kid next to House, I shook my head. It wasn¡¯t a good idea to give a child hope without being completely sure.

    "I get it," House said, looking at Luke beside him, surprisingly not pressing me for the truth.

    "Can I have my notebook?" the boy asked me nervously, still avoiding eye contact with me.

    "Sure."

    House and Luke talked¡ªor argued, to be more precise¡ªfor a couple of minutes inside House¡¯s office.

    "Thanks, see you," the boy said to me, still avoiding my gaze as he walked out of the lounge, clearly upset.

    "What did you do to him? Why can¡¯t he look you in the eye?" House asked me, amused, as he came out of his office.

    "I have an idea," I replied, watching the kid quickly walk out of our sight.

    "Don''t be smug," House said sarcastically. "So, can you tell me what you found?" he asked, leaning on his cane.

    "Yeah," I said, pulling my notes closer, but before I could continue, House raised his hand.

    "They found something in her liver," he said, pointing to the door.

    Cameron, Chase, and Dr. Foreman, followed by Dr. Wilson carrying ultrasound images, walked through the door.

    "She has a mass," Chase said, making me feel slightly relieved, though also dismayed, as it added to my theory.

    "The vitamin K caused the D.V.T. and aggravated the liver, but the tumor¡¯s the real reason for the bleed," Dr. Wilson said. "The tumor¡¯s the problem."

    "Go tell the woman," House said after a few seconds of silence, making Dr. Wilson nod in acknowledgment before leaving.

    "It¡¯s big¡ªfive point eight centimeters," Dr. Foreman said, disappointed.

    "We do nothing, she dies from liver failure within sixty days," Chase added.

    "She needs a transplant," Cameron said.

    "That''s not gonna happen," House immediately disagreed.

    "She¡¯s thirty-eight, she¡¯s a mother¡ª" Cameron was adding to the woman¡¯s case.

    "She''s a schizophrenic mother with no money, on public assistance, in fact, who knocks back vodka every time a breeze blows her way," House interrupted.

    "Mickey Mantle had a whole bar named after him," Dr. Foreman said. "He got a transplant."

    "Yeah, well, Lucy can''t switch-hit," House responded sarcastically. "Plan B, surgery to resect the tumor."

    "Joe Bergin does the gamma knife thing," Chase said. "Laser cauterizes while it cuts, saves more liver."

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "The tumor''s way too big, he won''t even consider it," Cameron immediately disagreed.

    "Not a big risk-taker, Bergin, won''t even drink milk on its expiration date," Dr. Foreman said sarcastically.

    "He has no discretion; five-point-eight centimeters is past the surgical guidelines," Cameron explained disappointedly.

    "Would he do it at four-point-six?" House asked.

    "Why don''t we just say it''s zero?" Chase asked. "Tumors grow, they don''t shrink."

    "This one does," House said seriously, intriguing the other doctors.

    "Ethanol," I explained, causing House to point at me, smiling.

    "He said it, not me," he exclaimed. "Speaking of which, does the tumor change anything about what you were about to say?" House asked.

    "No," I said immediately, standing up. "Besides the mass, was there liver damage?" I asked Cameron and Chase, moving my notes again.

    "Cirrhosis," Chase said, while Cameron simply nodded seriously.

    "I understand. So, Lucy''s first diagnosis of schizophrenia was approximately seven months ago," I said, handing my notes to Cameron, who then passed them to the others.

    "We know," Dr. Foreman said monotonously.

    "Let him do his monologue; it''s fun, and I want to hear it," House said, amused, silencing the other doctor as he dragged a chair over to sit down before receiving the papers.

    "Thank you," I said. "After that, the doctor referred them to another, and then another, for a couple of months, so much so that the boy stopped noting what those doctors were saying, simply writing down their names and a phone number. They never had more than one appointment per doctor," I added, passing my notes again.

    "All shrinks," House murmured while reading my notes, exaggeratedly moving his body as if the idea gave him chills.

    "Yes, until two months after her first diagnosis, the visits to different doctors ceased. The last one was Dr. Karn. His notes didn¡¯t specify anything, like a few others. I could have confused him with another psychologist, but fortunately, I took the trouble to call those doctors to build a more extensive history," I said, once again handing out notes.

    "An ophthalmologist," Cameron said, surprised.

    "I remember you told me about that," House said, strangely smiling.

    "Yes, it didn¡¯t seem odd to me at the time because what seemed stranger was the alcohol in her blood, despite not having drunk in days, when in reality, the important thing was considering both factors," I quickly said.

    "She has cirrhosis; it¡¯s obvious she¡¯s an alcoholic," Chase said, exasperated.

    "No, it¡¯s not obvious," I said, ignoring the doctor''s frown at my words. "Schizophrenia," I added, looking at House. "Sorry, are you sleepy? Need a clue?" I asked.

    "Her age?" House asked ironically. "I would have seen it just by looking at all these shrinks," he added arrogantly.

    "What?" Dr. Foreman asked.

    "It¡¯s unlikely that she would be diagnosed with schizophrenia at her age. To be precise, less than ten percent," I explained, ignoring House''s arrogance.

    "So what, all this to tell us how lucky this woman was?" Chase asked, obviously annoyed. "Great, now we can go and tell her son that his mother is basically a mathematical miracle. I don¡¯t have time for this," he continued sarcastically as he stood up, apparently ready to leave the room.

    "No," I said, stopping the doctor from trying to leave the room. "I think she doesn¡¯t have schizophrenia," I admitted. "I just need one test to be sure," I added, looking at House, who was smiling broadly.

    "Not this again!" Chase exclaimed, obviously angry. "This isn¡¯t your playground or your personal lab to come and play with patients," he added, approaching me.

    "Chase¡ª" Cameron nervously began to say.

    "You¡¯re not going to do any test on that woman to give her son false hope. He doesn¡¯t deserve that," Chase exclaimed, interrupting Cameron.

    "I¡¯m not playing with anyone," I declared, annoyed by his accusations. "And the test isn¡¯t invasive; they can do it while saying it¡¯s a procedural test."

    "Sure! Abusing the trust of patients again; obviously, that doesn¡¯t bother you," Chase added, obviously blinded by his anger, not reasoning with what I was saying, much less with what he was saying.

    "I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re still not over what I did with Sister Augustine," I said, impressed, snorting.

    "Over it? You attacked her!" Chase exclaimed, more upset.

    "What I did, even if you don¡¯t approve, was always with the sister''s well-being in mind. What I got from Sister Augustine, I used to give a diagnosis that saved her life," I declared proudly. "I never judged her for it," I added, implying that he was doing the opposite.

    "If you¡¯ve got something to say, say it," Chase said, approaching me again, trying to intimidate me.

    "It¡¯s obvious that someone you know was an alcoholic, possibly your mother, and now you can¡¯t stop judging your patient as such, even refusing to listen to reasons that could save her life," I said, also starting to get annoyed, "you¡¯re just a hypocrite," I said quietly, now close to Chase.

    "Who do you think you are? You¡¯re not a doctor," Chase said, obviously after I had hit a nerve, "you¡¯re just a ki¡ª" he was saying as he tried, like so many days ago, to push my chest. "Agh!"

    Grabbing his wrist, I quickly twisted it, managing to slightly contort his arm and, with it, the upper part of his body. "I¡¯ve had enough of you trying to push me; that was the first and last warning," I said, a moment later releasing his wrist, pushing his arm away.

    "Bravo," House said, clapping, cutting the tension and interrupting Chase, who was still pressing his wrist, now with slight pain. "If you two girls are done with your show, we still have work to do. After school, you can finish your business. Are you going to finish your presentation?" he asked sarcastically.

    "I just need a slit-lamp exam. If she has Kayser-Fleischer rings, then I¡¯m right, and the real diagnosis is Wilson¡¯s," I said, ignoring Chase, who was still moving his hand.

    "Wilson¡¯s?" Cameron asked, looking worriedly between Chase and me.

    "It¡¯s a rare genetic disorder that causes excessive accumulation of copper in the body, particularly in the brain, the eyes and the liver," I responded, glancing sideways at Chase, who snorted incredulously. "We just need to check her eyes."

    "I like it," House said.

    "Oh, you can¡¯t be taking this seriously. A rare genetic disorder, really?" Dr. Foreman asked House, completely incredulous.

    "The kid is right; we can say it¡¯s just a quick procedural test. Besides, the only one who stands to lose anything is the kid; it would be quite embarrassing to be wrong after all this show," House said sarcastically as he walked toward the door of the lounge. "Now, if the kid is right, it would be much more embarrassing to be you," he added as he passed by Chase. "Come on."

    Following House on the way to the woman¡¯s room, we ran into Dr. Wilson.

    "What¡¯s going on?" the man asked, seeing the four of us.

    "The kid has a theory," House explained, "and by the way, we¡¯re going to shrink the tumor so Bergin can resect it."

    "Got it," Dr. Wilson responded immediately, walking with us.

    Before reaching the patient¡¯s room, Dr. Foreman, along with Chase, split off to get the machine, while Cameron, under House''s orders, went to get the ethanol dose.

    When we entered the woman¡¯s room, her son, Luke, was sitting next to his mother with swollen eyes, obviously from crying.

    "You know the drill," House said, ignoring the boy''s appearance without a trace of shame, pulling out a bill from his jacket.

    "What?" Luke asked hoarsely, frowning incredulously.

    "We need to talk to your mother, so you¡¯ll give us a little space. I''ll page you," House added, taking out his pager and waving it in front of the boy¡¯s face. "This time, I want a bag of chips."

    "Really?" the boy asked incredulously, looking at Dr. Wilson and then at me. Seeing that he wasn¡¯t getting a response, he shook his head in disappointment, taking the bill from House¡¯s hand as well as the pager, leaving the room.

    "Lucy!" House exclaimed the moment Luke left the room, waking the woman who was deeply asleep. "See this kid here? He thinks you¡¯re not crazy," House said, managing to wake the woman.

    "Wait, what?" Dr. Wilson asked, surprised.

    "Neither do I," the woman said, ignoring Dr. Wilson like everyone else, looking at me. "But I''m crazy," she added.

    "I thought we¡¯d say it was a routine test," I said nervously, looking at House.

    "To her son," House exclaimed, "but I¡¯ve already solved that. Didn¡¯t you see?" House asked sarcastically. "She¡¯s crazy; who¡¯s she going to tell? Better yet, who¡¯s going to believe her?" he asked with exaggerated skepticism.

    "This is a huge waste of time," Chase said as he and Dr. Foreman pushed in the machine for the test.

    "I know, right? We should all forget about this and go watch TV," House said ironically as Dr. Foreman prepared the machine. At that moment, Cameron arrived, pushing another machine, a portable ultrasound.

    "Okay, Lucy, lean over here," Dr. Foreman said when the machine was ready. "Come on, that''s it," he added, helping the woman along with Chase to move around the bed. "Put your hands on the bar here and your chin in here."

    As I watched Dr. Foreman prepare the woman, I could feel my nerves starting to rise. The whole theory pointed to my diagnosis being correct, but if it wasn¡¯t, I would feel like I was taking away the opportunity for a mother and son to live their lives.

    "You''re gonna see a bright light, okay?" Dr. Foreman calmly warned the woman as he positioned himself to inspect her eyes. "Your body might be accumulating too much copper," he explained calmly, proving once again that he was a good doctor while calibrating the machine.

    As Dr. Foreman did his job, I could feel Chase watching me intently from the side.

    "If it is, this should help us see something called Kayser-Fleischer rings," Dr. Foreman continued explaining, suddenly stopping completely still and silent. "I''ll be damned," he murmured a few moments later, causing the tension I didn¡¯t know I had in my shoulders to completely dissipate. "Copper-colored circles around your corneas," he said slowly, pulling his face away from the machine''s visor, turning to look at me incredulously.

    Like Dr. Foreman, Cameron and Chase shared a look of disbelief, staring at me fixedly, this time without

    "Can someone explain to me what''s happening here?" Dr. Wilson, completely lost, asked.

    "What''s happening is that Chase owes a big apology," House said, smiling arrogantly.

    "Lucy doesn¡¯t have schizophrenia, just excess copper in the brain," I explained to Dr. Wilson, who obviously didn¡¯t get the answer he was looking for.

    "What?" Dr. Wilson asked incredulously, looking at the woman who was still behaving erratically. Only after a few days of treatment she will behave normally again.

    "Earth to Wilson, I thought you were present," House said sarcastically.

    "I don''t get it. How did you know?" Dr. Wilson asked me, ignoring House.

    "It''s a long story," I admitted, noticing how the patient was watching me calmly.

    "We should start the treatment for the excess copper," Dr. Foreman, still stupefied, said slowly, dragging the machine he had brought along, glancing at me occasionally.

    "Shrink the tumor first, I want my chips," House said as he walked towards the exit of the room. "Come on, kid, your work here is done," he added.

    Without wanting to see the faces of those still present in the room, I followed House out, trailing him to his office. "I see Don did his ''magic,''" House said, smiling cynically as he settled into his chair. "Can I expect you to do whatever it takes to save a patient from now on?" he asked, folding his hands in front of his face, probably pretending to be the villain in some bad movie.

    "No," I replied immediately, surprising House for a split second. "But if I¡¯ve made the decision, breaking one or two rules doesn¡¯t bother me."

    "Works for me," House said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn¡¯t interest him much. "See you later," he added as he stood up, grabbing his backpack and heading out of the office. "I hope the kid didn¡¯t pick the worst chips," House murmured as he reached the doorway.

    Puzzled by House''s sudden departure, I checked my watch and noticed that my regular ''shift'' had already ended a few minutes ago.

    "By the way, well done," House said, catching me off guard before immediately walking out of sight, heading towards the hospital cafeteria.

    Quickly gathering my things, I left in the opposite direction, feeling surprisingly good despite being late.

    Even though I drove right at the speed limit, I still arrived several minutes late to my training with Case.

    After quickly changing behind my car, I walked over under Case''s intensely furrowed gaze and Tim''s amused look. "Is my watch fast?" Case asked seriously raising his hand.

    Deciding that the best course of action was to look guilty and avoid mentioning that Case didn¡¯t have a watch, I walked over to the paved section of the lot.

    "Normally, the punishment for being late would be to clean the dojo," Case said sternly, crossing his arms. "But..." opening his arms again, he gestured around, indicating the empty lot completely exposed to the elements. "So, you do the next best thing."

    ¡®The next best thing¡¯ turned out to be an extensive course of different exercises: pull-ups, squats while carrying the old handmade sack, full sparring on the ground against Case and Tim, and even flipping a tire that probably came from a tractor I''d never seen before. By the end, I couldn¡¯t feel my arms or legs.

    "I remember the first time I was late," Tim said with a laugh while I kept my head under the stream of water from the spigot near Case¡¯s trailer.

    "Did you lose all feeling in your limbs?" I asked Tim as I shut off the water and dried my face with my shirt, which I honestly didn¡¯t remember taking off.

    "You have no idea," Tim said sarcastically. "Remember, there was a time when I was the only one training with Case," he added, patting my shoulder.

    "I''m so sorry for that, man," I said sincerely, feeling bad for my muscular friend.

    Even though my muscles were incredibly sore, I decided to stay for my now-regular chess games with Case. Besides, with the lack of sensation in my legs and arms, the best option was not to drive.

    Several games later, finally feeling at least the tips of my toes again, I went home.

    "You took a shower early," Bob said in surprise during dinner that night.

    "I was late for my training with Case," I explained.

    "Ah, so you got a special workout," Bob declared with a grin.

    "You say special, I say infernal, but yeah, same thing," I replied sarcastically.

    "What happened? I don¡¯t understand," Mom asked, worried.

    "Nothing, the workout was just a bit harder than usual," I explained.

    "It¡¯s good for teaching respect, punctuality, and responsibility," Bob quickly explained, seeing Mom frown.

    "Yeah," I murmured. "Don¡¯t worry about it, Mom, it¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle. I''ll just be sore for a couple of days," I added.

    "That means it was a good workout," Bob declared with a laugh. "No pain, no gain."

    I sure hope I get a lot of gains. "Teddy, by any chance, do you know someone named Lucas Palmero?" I asked my sister, suddenly remembering Luke.

    "Palmero?" Teddy repeated, surprised by the sudden question, pausing for a moment to think. "Oh yeah, he¡¯s my lab partner. He hasn¡¯t been to class in a few days. Is he in the hospital?" she asked, clearly understanding the reason for my question, now worried.

    I knew it.

    "He¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry about it," I quickly assured her. "And when he gets back to school, don¡¯t bother him, okay?" I added seriously.

    "Yes, don¡¯t pressure him. If he wants to say why he hasn¡¯t been to school, he¡¯ll do it on his own," Mom also quickly warned.

    "All right," Teddy said, raising her hands. "I don¡¯t even talk to him that much, just in class."

    That day, only Gabe and Bob came in while I slept soundly after dinner.

    The next day, obviously after spending most of my workout the previous night doing pull-ups, I woke up with a few blisters on my hands.

    "What happened to your hands?" Bob asked while we had breakfast after my morning run with Gabe.

    "From yesterday''s workout, I got a few blisters on my hands. It¡¯s just antibiotic cream and some bandages," I immediately explained, noticing how Bob was judging me slightly with his eyes.

    I¡¯m going to be a doctor, possibly a surgeon. Whenever I can, I¡¯ll keep my most important tools of the trade in pristine condition.

    "Well, I¡¯m sure if anyone knows how to treat them, it¡¯s you," Bob said with a laugh, patting my shoulder. "Are we ready?" he asked Teddy and Gabe, who were also finishing their breakfasts.

    "Yeah," Teddy and Gabe replied at the same time, with Gabe speeding up his breakfast.

    At school, after the second period, this time with my friends¡ªexcept for Brock and David, who had gone to the bathroom¡ªwe finished organizing our things in our lockers.

    From the main hallway of the school, just like the day before, the two seniors I had seen messing around with Brock walked by, pushing each other and laughing loudly.

    "Alan," I said to my always calm friend who was standing next to me as I watched the two guys walk away.

    "Yeah?"

    "Do you know anything about those two?" I asked, nodding in their direction.

    "Michael Johnson and David Smith," Alan immediately replied. "It¡¯s Smith¡¯s second year as a senior. Johnson was almost expelled a few months ago; they caught him smoking in the bathroom. They hang out after school under the bleachers, almost always when there¡¯s cheerleading or girls'' soccer practice."

    "Great," I murmured, surprised by how easily Alan provided a profile of the two guys. I really hoped Brock wouldn¡¯t get into trouble.

    "Also, Smith trains in boxing three days a week at the gym on Commercial Street. He¡¯s not that good, but his dad is¡ªan ex-semiprofessional with a good record," my calm friend added seriously.

    I stared at my friend incredulously for a few seconds.

    "What?" Alan asked, confused. "Someone uninformed is like a blind man walking in dangerous terrain," he declared, as if reciting a motto he says repeatedly.

    "I didn¡¯t say anything," I said innocently, raising my hands. "So, do you think they¡¯re bad news?" I asked.

    "Yeah, not the worst news in school, but definitely bad news," Alan calmly explained. "So, what are you going to do?"

    "About what?" I asked, confused.

    "Brock," Alan replied indifferently.

    Of course, he knew too. He was like an encyclopedia of the school¡ªquite scary, to be honest.

    "I don¡¯t think a direct approach is the best option right now; it would only make Brock feel attacked," I admitted, slightly disappointed. "So I¡¯m just going to wait for now."

    "Whatever you do, it¡¯s probably better than what I would do," Alan admitted sinisterly, crossing his arms.

    Okay... definitely scary.

    "What about him?" I asked, discreetly pointing to a guy who was passing by, just to see how deep Alan¡¯s knowledge went.

    "I don¡¯t know everyone at the school," Alan said, raising one eyebrow. "But that¡¯s Mark Bishop, junior year, captain of the school¡¯s chess team," he added a moment later, with a hint of a smile on his face.

    "The school has a chess team?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yeah, Bishop and two others. Mr. Givens is the teacher in charge," my friend explained.

    "What are you talking about?" Georgie innocently asked. For the past few days, every chance he got, he¡¯d been leaning against his locker, smiling at everyone who passed by, obviously focusing entirely on the girls.

    "Are you done with your lost puppy act?" I asked sarcastically, teasing my friend.

    "Yeah, laugh all you want, but when it works, don¡¯t come asking for my secrets. I got two smiles today," Georgie declared proudly.

    "I doubt it was the kind of smile you think it was," I said with amusement, patting my friend on the shoulder.

    "Well, I don¡¯t care, but one day it¡¯ll work," Georgie declared proudly with a smile.

    "I''m sure it will," I said with a grin, seeing the arrogant smile on my friend¡¯s face.

    "What will?" Brock asked, arriving with David, interested.

    "Georgie¡¯s special strategy," I explained.

    "Oh, the puppy eyes," Brock immediately said with a laugh.

    "Like I said, laugh all you want," Georgie declared arrogantly.

    "We will, thanks," I said, immediately mocking along with Brock and David.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 69

    Nice

    ---

    In the last period of the day, math class was going on as usual.

    "Sheldon," Mrs. Ingram exclaimed, stopping the class, "are you okay?" she asked, puzzled.

    Sheldon had been spacing out during class, staring ahead. I had noticed this several times over the past few days, but since he always answered or tried to answer the questions asked in class, I never really paid much attention to it.

    "Yeah," Sheldon responded, confused by the sudden question.

    "Okay," Mrs. Ingram said, frowning, obviously intrigued before continuing with the class.

    During football practice that day, the mild muscle soreness I still had and the blisters on my hands made the training a bit more challenging.

    "PJ, son, can we talk in the office for a minute?" Coach Cooper said seriously, pointing to the office door.

    "Sure thing, Coach," I replied, walking behind him. At that moment, a chorus among my teammates began to grow. "What?" I asked, exclaiming, fortunately quieting the teenagers.

    As I entered the coaches'' office, Coach Cooper seemed worried while talking with Coach Wilkins.

    "Sir?" I asked, knocking on the door frame.

    "Son, is something bothering you?" Coach Cooper asked nervously, for some strange reason, slowly leaning against the corner of his desk, repeatedly touching his fingertips together.

    "What? No," I quickly responded, puzzled by the question.

    "It''s just, you know, your game," Coach said, tilting his head slightly, "was a little bit off, you fumbled the ball a couple of times."

    "Oh, that," I said, embarrassed, immediately understanding the coach''s concern. "It''s nothing like that, Coach, it''s just that I may have overtrained yesterday," I added, showing the man my hands.

    "Oh," Coach Cooper said, smiling, obviously relieved. "Just blisters, blisters," he repeated cheerfully to Coach Wilkins, who nodded, also relieved.

    "Yeah, sorry about that," I said, more embarrassed, seeing the complete relief on the two coaches'' faces.

    "Oh no, it''s fine, son," Coach Cooper said, laughing lightly. "But how quickly do you think you''ll be back to 100 percent? You know the next game is coming up, right?" he added nervously again.

    "Yeah, a couple more days, and my hands will be as good as new. Don''t worry about it," I assured the coach.

    "Well, thank God for that. We really need your arm, son," Coach Cooper said seriously, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Go hit the showers."

    At the hospital, after school, when I arrived at the diagnostic lounge, only Cameron was working on what seemed like some charts. "PJ," the doctor said, smiling cheerfully.

    "Hey, Cameron," I said, smiling at the woman as I hung up my things where I always leave them. "How did the surgery go, do you know?" I asked seriously.

    "Oh yeah, I scrubbed in this morning, it went really well. Although Bergin was pretty upset about the ethanol," Cameron explained. "She''s going to be fine, but she''s going to need some chemotherapy."

    "Good, that''s good. And what about the copper accumulation?"

    "The treatment should start showing results tomorrow or in a couple of days," Cameron responded, smiling broadly.

    "That''s good. By the end of this week, she''ll be home with Luke," I said, relieved for the little family. "You know, I found out he''s a classmate of my sister at school," I added, amused.

    "Oh, so that''s why he can''t look you in the eyes. House really wanted to know the reason," Cameron said, amused.

    "Uh, then I''m going to forget that I found out why," I said excitedly, realizing I had a way to tease House, making Cameron shake her head and laugh softly.

    "By the way," Cameron said seriously, losing her smile. "Sometimes, because of the way you behave and how House treats you, I forget how impressive it is what you do at your age. That was an impressive diagnosis, you should really be proud of yourself."

    "I just read a lot," I admitted, embarrassed.

    "Oh, come on, we all do that, read books," Cameron explained, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "But to do what you and House do... that can''t be learned just by reading books, at least not entirely," she added, smiling slightly. "So, drop the modesty and learn to accept compliments," she added sarcastically.

    "You''re right, thanks," I responded after a moment.

    "I know I''m right," Cameron said proudly.

    "Hey, Cameron, do you have the results of the uh¡ª" Before I could respond to the kind doctor, Chase came in, interested in the papers he had in his hands, stopping when he saw me.

    "Well, I''m going to the skills lab," I said, realizing the atmosphere in the room had become quite uncomfortable as I walked out of the room.

    "No, PJ, wait," Chase said with some difficulty. "I just wanted to say I''m sorry. I was an ass to you, and you were right. I was just projecting someone I used to know onto Mrs. Palemero."

    Cameron, who seemed nervous about the situation, slowly stood up from her place.

    "It''s fine," I said slowly.

    "No, it''s not. You''re a teenager, a really smart one, but just a teenager, and it wasn''t my job to treat you the way I did with Sister Augustine. My job was to teach you how to deal with the situation, and I didn''t live up to it," Chase admitted, seemingly disappointed in himself.

    "It''s not really your job," I murmured.

    "It''s not, but since you''re the future of medicine," he said exaggeratedly, "you''d better be well-trained," he added playfully. "Just wanted to say I''m sorry," he added seriously after a moment.

    "Okay," I said, nodding calmly.

    "Great, are we fine?" Chase asked, relieved, raising his hand for a handshake.

    "Sure," I replied, shaking the doctor''s hand.

    "No way that''s enough," Cameron exclaimed, seemingly upset. "Just one ''I''m sorry,'' and that''s enough?" she asked, exasperated.

    "Well, yeah," I said, not understanding her incredulity.

    "We''re men; this is how we solve things between us. I mean, we punch each other once or twice, and then we''re fine. In a better scenario, we just say we''re sorry, like this," Chase explained ironically.

    "Well, I almost broke your wrist," I said, amused.

    "Right," Chase said, remembering. "That was a great move, by the way. I was distracted, though," he added, surprised.

    "No, you weren''t," I declared, amused.

    "This is so unfair," Cameron exclaimed, annoyed, as she furiously walked out of the room.

    "What''s wrong with her?" Chase asked, intrigued.

    "No clue," I replied, equally intrigued. She seemed upset about the way Chase and I resolved the situation.

    "That''s a first, you genius kid," Chase declared sarcastically. "Well, I''m glad we solved this; you''re a great guy," he said, kindly patting my shoulder.

    Genius kid?

    "You too, and now at least I''m two out of three," I said triumphantly.

    "Oh, don''t worry about Foreman. He''s just really proud," the now friendly doctor assured me.

    "Yeah, I can see that," I said sarcastically.

    "I could have freed my hand," Chase declared after a few seconds.

    "Yeah, sure," I said sarcastically.

    "I really could," Chase said, slightly offended.

    "Keep telling yourself that," I declared, teasing the doctor. I could keep Tim in a hold for minutes if I wanted, and he was basically three times Chase''s size.

    Although I had planned to go to the skills lab to continue practicing, House, who still owed several clinic hours despite all the time we had been there in the past weeks, dragged me along to send home a lot of class one patients. Unfortunately, no one interesting... until a patient with hiccups came in, for some reason, hitting himself.

    "Maybe if he does it crosswise, first with the left and then with the right," House said while I pretended to take notes.

    "Maybe upside down. I read an interesting study about it," I said, making House nod stiffly, seemingly trying to avoid smiling.

    A moment later, following my suggestion, the man lay down on the bed, letting his head hang off the edge, keeping the rhythm of the hits. Surprisingly, after a couple of hits, his hiccups suddenly stopped.

    "Wow, that actually worked," the man said, surprised, his face flushed and slightly swollen. "Thank you so much," he added excitedly, shaking House''s hand emphatically and then mine.

    "Oh, no need to thank us," House said, putting his hand on his chest with absolute false humility. "But, if it happens again, you really should come back here. No matter what time it is, I''ll make sure to come in," he added emphatically, making the man nod, obviously grateful for House''s ''interest'' in his health.

    "I feel bad for the man," I said to House as we watched the patient leave the clinic. House was smiling like I had never seen him smile before. "I really hope he never gets sick with anything more serious than hiccups."

    "Yeah, what would happen if he got a stomach infection," House said, amused.

    The rest of the day, when House released me from the clinic, I returned to the skills lab, where I practiced and studied surgical videos for the rest of the day.

    That day, I arrived several minutes before the training with Case started, even before Tim arrived, which

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    had never happened before.

    The next day everything went normally. After the daily run with Gabe and the first periods of class, having a couple of books from the school library that I needed to return, during lunch and after enduring the always awkward interaction with Miss Hutchins, like the last time I was in the library, I found Tam and Sheldon at one of the tables.

    "PJ Duncan, my friend," Tam said excitedly, immediately upon seeing me approach their table, putting down the chopsticks he was using to eat his food.

    "Tam, just PJ, remember?" I asked, smiling at the excited boy.

    "I can''t do that," Tam declared, smiling strangely, proud.

    "Okay," I said slowly, not really understanding the reason behind his statement. "What are you reading, Sheldon?" I asked, focusing my attention on my other friend present, seeing a small red book that didn''t seem academic, like something Sheldon would read.

    "I''ve decided to learn self-defense," Sheldon said formally, showing me the cover of the book.

    The cover was of a martial artist doing a perfect roundhouse kick.

    "From a book?" I asked with some sarcasm.

    "Well, yeah," Sheldon said immediately, as if it were obvious. "It''s a great book about Jiu-Jitsu. How else could I learn some form of self-defense?"

    "You''re absolutely right," I said, nodding slowly, with a bit of sarcasm. "But why do you want to learn self-defense?" I asked seriously as I took the seat next to my small friend. "Is someone messing with you?"

    My question obviously surprised Sheldon, and incidentally, Tam as well. It was difficult for someone at school to mess with either of them, because from what I''ve heard, whenever something like that happened, either of them would shield themselves with the excuse of having the protection of the football team.

    "Yes," Sheldon responded after a few seconds, with his inability to lie.

    "Who?" Tam asked nervously, snatching the question from me.

    "I''d rather not talk about it," Sheldon responded, strangely embarrassed, and for some reason, making Tam even more nervous.

    "Is it someone from school?" I asked calmly. I doubted that anyone at school could mess with Sheldon without at least Alan knowing about it, but if somehow it had escaped my calm friend''s knowledge, I would have to pay more attention to Sheldon.

    "No, it''s not happening at school," Sheldon quickly responded, this time immediately relieving Tam.

    I get it, he was scared of anyone daring to mess with Sheldon, even knowing he was ''protected.''

    "Look, Sheldon, I can''t help you if you don''t ask for help. There''s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of," I said seriously.

    "I know, thanks, PJ," Sheldon said, nodding seriously. "But I''d like to try to solve it on my own. I think it will be a great learning opportunity," he declared excitedly.

    "Okay, as you wish," I said after waiting a few seconds for the boy to rethink his response, "if you want some advice on Jiu-Jitsu, maybe I can help you. I''m not an expert, but I definitely have more experience than you."

    "Of course you do," Tam said, smiling excitedly. "Everyone talked about the party where you knocked out Josh Bradford. I wish I had seen that; I was there too."

    "Yes, Tam, but that was just a punch, not Jiu-Jitsu."

    "But a really cool punch," Tam said again, more excited than he should be.

    "Just the book is more than enough. Besides, your clear physical superiority wouldn''t help me in this specific case, so thanks, but no thanks," Sheldon replied formally, as always.

    "Well, if you need anything, just let me know, okay, buddy?" I said, making Sheldon nod seriously. "See you later, Tam," I added, also saying goodbye to my Vietnamese friend.

    "Sure thing, PJ Duncan, my friend. If I ever need anything, I''ll let you know too," Tam said completely innocently, smiling broadly.

    "Good," I said, nodding and trying not to laugh before walking out of the library, avoiding looking in Miss Hutchins'' direction.

    The way she smiled at me really made me unpleasantly nervous.

    When I returned to the cafeteria, my friends were in a heated argument about some kind of motorcycle on a magazine page.

    "The Yamaha Sportbike is definitely way better than the Harley. In fact, any sportbike is perfectly better than a cruiser," David practically shouted, supported by Brock beside him.

    "No, it''s not," Georgie said, offended. "Oh, PJ, come here. Finally, someone on my side. Alan doesn''t want to get involved in this," he said, dragging me to his side as I arrived.

    Leaning in slightly, I saw Alan shaking his head subtly. "Sure, Georgie, what''s up?" I asked.

    "Tell them how the Harley is much better than any other motorcycle," he said proudly, relieved to have someone on his side.

    "The Harley is much better than any other motorcycle," I repeated after my friend.

    "Do you even know what a Harley or a Yamaha is?" Brock asked arrogantly, obviously imagining what my answer would be.

    "Yeah... no, I don''t," I replied slowly, watching as Georgie lost any confidence he had gained from my support.

    "Come on, you have a great car. How is it possible that you have no idea about motorcycles?" Georgie asked, exasperated.

    "Well, my car has four wheels for starters," I responded sarcastically.

    "Don''t tell me you''ve never thought about buying a motorcycle. You''re going to be a doctor¡ªhell, you already are one¡ªand you''re going to have like, a lot of money," David said, annoyed. "Do you really know nothing about bikes?"

    "There are many things I have no idea about," I admitted, and surprisingly, my friends seemed especially incredulous. "What? I''m human, not perfect."

    "Oh, shut up," Brock exclaimed, offended, sarcastically smiling.

    "Hey, Porker, come sit with us. What do you have for lunch?" Behind us, the two guys, Michael Johnson and David Smith, said, surprising Georgie and me. Alan didn''t react at all as he continued eating his lunch.

    "Hey, guys," Brock said, his smile fading for a moment before returning, obviously with a fake smile, slightly nervous.

    "Yeah, ''hey,''" one of the two hooligans said, looking arrogantly at the rest of the table. "Come on, Porker."

    "His name is Brock," Georgie said, frowning, gathering all the courage he had.

    "Do you need your boyfriend to defend you, Porker?" one of the two idiots asked, emphasizing the insult.

    "Hey¡ª" I stood up immediately being followed only by Alan.

    "Come on, guys, stop fucking with me," Brock quickly interrupted me. "I''ll stay here to eat my lunch. I''ll hang with you later, fine?" my friend said with a certain degree of nervousness.

    "Yeah, fine, Porker," one of the two hooligans arrogantly nodded, along with his friend, studying me while completely ignoring Alan, who was somehow already sitting again.

    "See you later, Porker," the other idiot said, elbowing his friend as they walked away from our table, laughing obnoxiously.

    "Come on, Brock," Georgie said, surprisingly mature and disappointed.

    "What? They''re a bit rough, but they''re my friends," Brock quickly said defensively. "The Yamaha is way better," he added, obviously not wanting to continue the topic.

    At the end of the school day in the parking lot, before getting into my car, I saw Brock walking with the two hooligans toward the school''s field. The two idiots were laughing, pushing each other, even shoving Brock, who laughed falsely.

    On the school field, the cheerleading team was practicing.

    At the hospital, remembering what both Dr. Cuddy and the university president had promised me days ago, I headed to the surgery wing.

    "I knew you''d come eventually. I bet Fryday that it would be this month," the head nurse of the surgery wing, an older woman named Nurse Alison, said excitedly. "Ever since Dr. Cuddy informed us that you might come and that you had observer privileges, I knew I''d see you in my wing."

    "I''m glad you won, what ten dollars?" I asked playfully.

    "Fifty," the nurse said, winking.

    "Sounds like I can get a juice from the cafeteria," I said, smiling at the woman, amused.

    "Of course you can, sugar," the woman said, smiling sweetly and squeezing my arm. "So, what surgery do you want to watch? We have OR one and two preparing for an appendectomy and, uh, a circumcision," the woman said cheerfully.

    "Yeah, I think the appy is calling me more," I murmured.

    "Of course it is. You men and your fears about... your things," she said sarcastically, gesturing vaguely toward my genital area. "You would have gotten along well with Dr. Robbins. She''s an incredible teacher."

    "Thanks, Alison, but I don''t see myself becoming a urologist in the near future. Maybe someday I''ll change my mind," I said calmly.

    "Obviously, you''d think that," the woman said, squeezing my arm and smiling. "You''re a hot shot. You''re going into cardio, ortho, or trauma¡ªyeah, trauma, definitely trauma," she added, nodding slowly with narrowed eyes.

    "I don''t know yet," I said, amused. "In fact, I don''t even know if I want to be a surgeon. I''m just here to learn, for now."

    "I can recognize surgical material when I see it," the woman said, ignoring my words and walking confidently. "Come on, let''s find your teacher for today."

    Following the woman, we arrived at a break room where several doctors were quietly resting. "Dr. Bergin."

    "Yeah, nurse?" one of the doctors asked, reluctantly pulling his attention away from a magazine.

    "I have another brilliant mind for your OR," Nurse Alison said, placing her hand on my shoulder.

    Frowning, the doctor studied me. "And this is?" he asked slowly, with little enthusiasm.

    "PJ Duncan... sir," I said, noticing the doctor''s eyes widen slightly as he seemed to recognize my name.

    "Ah, House junior. So I''m the lucky one who has to put up with you for your first OR observation," the doctor declared, leaning back in his seat.

    "I assure you, Doctor, that the only thing PJ has in common with House is his medical talent," Nurse Alison said proudly, winking at me.

    "Ah, perfect, ''medical talent'' certified by a nurse," Dr. Bergin said ironically to the other doctors present, who didn''t react much to his words.

    Yes, this was exactly how I remembered doctors.

    Before I could say anything, Alison stopped me, smiling kindly.

    "Well, I suppose I''ll have to check that for myself. That''s all, nurse, thank you," the doctor said, reopening his magazine.

    "Good luck," Alison said, giving me a one-armed hug.

    "Thanks," I said as the kind woman left the room, even though I really wasn''t going to do anything.

    "So, House junior, do I need to have someone teach you the hygiene procedures to enter my OR?" Dr. Bergin asked, not moving his attention from his magazine.

    "No, sir, and my name is PJ," I clarified.

    "Good," the doctor said disinterestedly, with no intention of addressing my name. "What are you waiting for?" he asked after a moment, slightly glancing up from his magazine.

    "Sorry?" I asked, confused.

    "Just because all the big shots at the hospital and the university think you''re special doesn''t mean I''ll treat you like you are," the doctor said seriously. "If you enter my OR to observe, I will make sure to ask you questions. You have ten minutes to catch up. I appreciate the Socratic method."

    I was pretty sure that if I talked to Dr. Cuddy, the doctor would be forced to treat me like a king... but I''m much better than that.

    "Got it," I said calmly, smiling. "I just need to read the patient''s chart."

    "Just the patient''s chart," Dr. Bergin said, raising his eyebrows, obviously skeptical. "Suit yourself," he added, lifting a file but not without first removing some pages from it.

    Taking the offered chart, I began to read it, taking a seat on one of the free chairs in the room. After a few seconds of reading the chart, I could feel the doctors staring at me, even whispering among themselves, making me immediately feel like I was back in high school¡ªunpleasant.

    "It''s time, ready or not," Dr. Bergin said, standing up with a big sigh. "Did you find the reading amusing?" the man asked sarcastically. "House junior, tell me why my appendectomy isn''t an emergency surgery," he asked again, emphasizing the last part before I could respond to the first question.

    I quickly noticed that the pages the man had removed from the chart were the notes from the doctors responsible for the patient. I only had the raw data without the comments.

    "All signs point to a subacute appendicitis," I replied.

    "The signs?" the doctor asked, unimpressed.

    "The patient is afebrile and in good general condition. He has tenderness on palpation in the right iliac fossa, with possible weak or absent rebound tenderness, and no marked muscle guarding," I quickly said, making the doctor raise one of his eyebrows at me.

    "Just with tha¡ª" the man was saying.

    "In the lab results, the blood count shows his white blood cells are in the upper normal range, as well as moderate neutrophilia, and a CRP that''s not drastically elevated, indicating a chronic or subacute inflammatory process. Renal and liver functions are within normal limits," I quickly said, interrupting the doctor.

    "Okay, you know how to read lab results¡ª" the man was trying to press me again.

    "The abdominal ultrasound shows a visible, dilated appendix with a diameter greater than six millimeters, no significant free fluid in the abdominal cavity, and the appendix wall is thickened with no clear signs of perforation," I said, interrupting him a second time. "Lastly, the CT scan confirms an inflamed appendix with no abscess or perforation and moderate periapendicular fat infiltration, indicating chronic or subacute appendicitis."

    "Correct," Dr. Bergin said after a moment of silence, speaking with difficulty. "What are we waiting for? Let''s go, Anderson. Go prep the patient," he ordered seriously, making one of the doctors present stand up and leave the room, looking at me in obvious surprise as he did.

    Like that doctor, I noticed the others present were looking at me like some kind of phenomenon. It seemed there were doctors who ignored or doubted the article in the newspaper.

    Following the doctor out of the room, we arrived with other doctors, possibly residents, at the scrub room. "House junior scrub in, I want you close by, you''re not going to touch anything obviously," the man said, stopping to watch me go through the process, clearly looking for any flaws in my handwashing technique.

    "Oh no no, this time House junior will be in your place," the doctor Bergin said, stopping one of the doctors from entering the OR. "If you may," he added, gesturing with his palm to the spot where the other doctor was going to stand.

    Before I knew it, the doctor, along with one of the nurses present, presented the case.

    "Scalpel," Dr. Bergin ordered. "Tell me, House junior, where is the incision made?" he asked, holding the scalpel in his hand.

    "Depending on the type of incision, but for an open incision, McBurney''s point and Lanz''s line are used; generally, the cut is five to ten centimeters," I replied quickly, causing the doctor to nod rigidly and begin the cut.

    "Depending on the incision," the doctor repeated slowly, working on his patient.

    "It could also be a laparoscopic incision, using the umbilical port and auxiliary ports," I quickly responded to his unasked question.

    "Laparoscopic," Dr. Bergin repeated, amused.

    "Well, yeah," I said, puzzled. "Dr. Grey¡ª" I was saying.

    "Dr. Grey, Ellis Grey?" the doctor interrupted me. "Suction," he ordered his assistant before returning to me. "What do you know about possibly the brightest mind of our generation, one of the best surgeons possibly in history, Dr. Grey?" The man added, shaking his head in amusement.

    "A few weeks ago when I was in Boston at Dr. Donnall Thomas''s house celebrating the new year, Dr. Grey told me that in a few years, all appendectomies will be done laparoscopically," I said, watching the man''s expression change to one of complete disbelief, trying with all my might not to show how amused I was by his silence.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 70

    "Wait a moment, PJ," Dr. Bergin said nervously. "Do you really know Dr. Elis Grey?" he asked, causing the other doctors present in the OR to once again stare at me intently.

    So I''m PJ now.

    "Yeah, I first met her last year, a couple of days after Dr. Thomas won the Nobel Prize, at his congratulatory party," I said, noticing that despite being ''distracted'' talking to me, the doctor''s work on the table wasn''t affected.

    "Dr. Thomas?" murmured the assistant doctor, Anderson, if I remembered correctly. "So the article was real?" he asked, raising his attention.

    Hearing the question, most of the doctors present, residents, and even those in the unusually crowded gallery, seemed eager for my response.

    "Well, most of it," I replied, recalling House''s ''words.'' "Dr. House connected me with Dr. Thomas, and I sent my own research to the latter. Apparently, it was useful," I added, slightly nervous from all the stares.

    "So it was real?" Dr. Bergin asked, surprised. "I thought it was just a damn bad joke by House," he added, incredulous.

    "That definitely would be a House joke," I said slowly, "but it wasn''t."

    "I was so sure¡ª I mean, those words from House¡ª did Dr. Cuddy threaten him?" the doctor asked, becoming increasingly friendly. It was impressive how the doctors'' attitudes changed when they saw you as ''their equal.'' First Dr. Grey, and now Joe Bergin.

    "That was Dr. Wilson, long story," I said uncomfortably. "What type of vascular tie are you using for the mesoappendix ligation?" I asked, trying to change the subject, even though I knew perfectly well what the doctor was doing.

    "Oh, great question, PJ," despite not being able to see his entire face, I knew the man was now smiling¡ª really unpleasant. "It''s a simple ligation with sutures."

    "And why a simple ligation and not a transfixing ligation?" I asked, genuinely interested. The latter was theoretically the safest option to prevent any postoperative bleeding.

    "Another great question from young PJ. Dr. Anderson, care to explain?" Dr. Bergin said cheerfully.

    "It''s generally done for speed and efficiency. A transfixing ligation is used when the tissue is friable or inflamed. In this case, it isn''t, so a transfixing ligation isn''t really necessary," the assistant doctor kindly explained.

    "Got it, thanks," I said, studying the tissue Dr. Bergin was working on. I had seen the same tissue hundreds of times, in a lab or a classroom, completely dead and dehydrated. It was incredible to see how it really looked in person.

    "So..." Dr. Bergin said, moving his head slightly. "How is Dr. Grey in her everyday life? As excellent as in the OR? She must be," the man said eagerly.

    And all my fun using my ''relationship'' with Dr. Grey vanished as quickly as it came. I immediately regretted my words.

    "Yeah," I replied after a heavy sigh, "we could say that," I added, murmuring.

    And with that, as if I had asked them to question me about Dr. Grey and Dr. Thomas, the remaining twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds were filled with incessant questions from the doctors present about Dr. Thomas''s and Dr. Grey''s research.

    "Whenever you want to visit any other surgery, you''re always welcome in my OR, PJ," at the end of the surgery, with his hand on my shoulder, Dr. Bergin said, smiling exaggeratedly.

    "Sure, doctor, thank you very much"¡ªno, definitely not.

    "Kid, I was looking for you, and look where I found you, with the surgeons," House said at the end of the hallway with disgust in his tone, eyeing the other doctors around and even going so far as to exaggeratedly distance himself from any doctors nearby. For the first and surely the last time in my life, I was truly relieved to hear his voice.

    "House, why didn''t you tell anyone about the incredible talent you were cultivating?" ignoring the other doctor''s words and behavior, Dr. Bergin asked amicably, patting my shoulder.

    "Bergin, if I told everyone what I ''cultivate,'' I''d be in jail or in Mexico right now, you know it''s still illegal," House said sarcastically, mimicking smoking with his hand. "Let''s go, kid, the hiccup guy is back," House said, strangely excited as he walked away.

    "Sorry, doctor," pretending to be sorry for having to leave, I said, separating myself from Dr. Bergin. "Thank you very much for today," I added, walking slowly towards where House was heading.

    "It''s okay, PJ, duty calls," the man obviously swallowing my false act, replied calmly. "You won''t keep him for long; surgery is calling him, and you know it," he exclaimed excitedly, clearly shouting at House.

    "Who''s he talking to?" House asked me as we walked toward the exit of the surgery wing.

    "You, I think," I replied.

    "I tend to ignore surgeons," House declared sarcastically.

    "Just surgeons?" I asked sarcastically.

    "Huh," House exclaimed, widening his eyes exaggeratedly, "Did you say something?" he asked.

    "Did the hiccup guy really come back?" I asked, ignoring House''s game and genuinely interested.

    "Yes," House said, smiling broadly and amused.

    "Jumping on one leg?" I asked.

    "While slapping his face¡ª I like it," House replied seriously, obviously excited by the idea.

    Sure enough, in the office House always used, the same man from last time, hiccuping happily, greeted me.

    "I tried everything you told me last time at home, it didn''t work," the man explained, suddenly slapping his face during the conversation.

    "Don''t worry about it, sir, we''ll do our best," I assured the man with a smile.

    "Of course we will," with fake pride, or maybe slightly real, House said, smiling and putting his hand on my shoulder.

    After several minutes of trying out fun ways to ''bother'' the man, I decided to ''take pity'' on him, ordering him to stop, much to House''s dismay. Despite that, we still had to ''observe'' him, waiting to see if his hiccups would change to something more serious.

    We spent several hours with the hiccup guy, whose name I later discovered I never learned. House used the time to kill off his clinic hours debt.

    The rest of the day was as usual¡ªtraining with Case, and then home.

    "PJ, son," the next day, in one of the school hallways, Coach Cooper approached me, unusually suspicious. "I need to know what you know about Sheldon," he murmured seriously.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "I need you to be more specific, sir," I said, even though I already had a good idea of what it might be.

    "This morning, before coming to school, Sheldon wrapped himself in bubble wrap, ''an extra layer of protection,'' he said. Do you know from whom?" Mr. Cooper asked, nodding slightly.

    "It''s not from school," I replied immediately, "which makes me think it''s from our street."

    "How do you know it''s not from school?" Mr. Cooper asked seriously.

    "I think I would know. There''s not much time when I''m unaware of Sheldon''s movements at school," I replied, slightly surprised by how my sentence came out. "We share all classes, so I''m always with him. During lunch, he''s with Tam, and Tam would tell me right away if something happened."

    "So, not at school," the man repeated, thoughtful.

    "Yeah, I don''t want to sound arrogant, but everyone knows that Sheldon is under my ''protection,''" I said exaggeratedly.

    "Yeah, even we know that," pointing to his chest, Mr. Cooper said, nodding his head. "What am I going to do?" he asked meditatively, sighing.

    "I can ask Gabe to make inquiries with the other kids in the neighborhood. I''m sure some kid knows something," I offered, making Mr. Cooper immediately lift his head, interested.

    "Great plan," the man said, nodding slowly. "Thanks."

    "No problem."

    "Son, do you mind if I..." after a few seconds of silence, Mr. Cooper started to say.

    "That''s a great plan, sir, I''ll make sure to ask Gabe as you requested," I interrupted, preempting what he was about to say.

    "That''s why you''re my favorite," the man said, patting my shoulder. "Let''s make sure no one knows that," he added in a murmur, checking the school hallway.

    Without saying more, Coach Cooper nodded once more, walking away.

    That day, just to be sure, I paid much more attention than usual to Sheldon, who, for some reason, remained distracted in class. Fortunately, the kid had a strange schedule that he seemed to never break, especially when it came to bathroom breaks during intervals between classes.

    Apart from preventing the crowd of students from dragging him through the school hallways a couple of times, Sheldon had a fairly quiet day, with no one bothering him. At the end of the school day, Sheldon got on the school bus outside of my ''protection.''

    Entering the hospital, walking through the same hallway I always passed to reach the diagnostic lounge, one of the nurses from the internal medicine wing, who seemed to be waiting excitedly, quickly approached me.

    "I knew you were about to arrive, come on, quickly," grabbing my arm, the woman practically dragged me down

    the hallway.

    "Well, I usually arrive at the same time, so it''s not very hard to figure out," I said with slight sarcasm, letting the woman drag me down the hospital hallway. "Oh, and do you think you could tell me where exactly I need to be in such a hurry?" I asked a moment later, as if it were an afterthought.

    "Sure," she said, drawing out the word as we arrived at one of the waiting rooms, "them," she added after a few seconds, scanning the seats.

    Luke and his mother, Mrs. Palmero, were sitting on the benches, with only the woman obviously in a wheelchair.

    "Betty, why am I here?" I asked, murmuring as I stopped next to the nurse, Betty.

    "They''ve been waiting for you for a few minutes. Mrs. Palmero was finally discharged," Betty replied, still trying to drag me to the small family.

    "Waiting for me?" I asked, trying to resist being dragged further.

    "Yeah, Mrs. Palmero¡ª" Betty was saying.

    "Ah, it''s him!" Mrs. Palmero exclaimed, interrupting the nurse. "Luke, honey, take me to him."

    Now with no way to avoid the interaction politely, I forced a smile and approached the small family.

    "I''ll leave you here; I''ve got things to do," Betty said cheerfully.

    Do you really have things to do? Weren''t you just waiting for me in the hallway?

    "Luke, I heard you were looking for me?" I greeted the boy and asked the two people in front of me.

    "That would be me," Mrs. Palmero said, smiling from the wheelchair. "I just wanted to thank the person who saved my life," the woman added sweetly.

    "I don''t¡ª I think you mean Dr. House. I''ll go get him for you," I said nervously.

    "Oh, nonsense, I already spoke with Dr. House," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And if I remember correctly, he said it was your idea¡ªno one would believe me; they thought I was crazy," she added, winking.

    "Wait, you remember that?" I asked, surprised. The excess copper in her brain should have altered her mind enough to block memories.

    "Oh, I remember absolutely everything, from the first appointment to the last," she said, taking Luke''s hand and gesturing to the hospital with her free hand. "Even, to my Luke''s embarrassment, the things he told me at home," she added, smiling at her son.

    "Mom!" Luke exclaimed in a low voice, obviously embarrassed.

    "Oh, honey, don''t be embarrassed. You telling me about your day was the best part of mine," she assured him tenderly, patting his hand.

    "Well, Mrs. Palmero, I''m very glad you''re doing well now," I said with a slight smile to the woman, "but you should be at home resting, not sitting in a waiting room," I added seriously.

    "Oh, you really do sound like a doctor," the woman said, amused. "You look so young¡ªwhat are you, one or two years older than my Luke?" she asked, seemingly ignoring my warning.

    "I''m sixteen, ma''am, turning seventeen this year," I responded, smiling at her still-embarrassed son.

    "One year older? You''re like a genius or something?" the woman asked, obviously surprised.

    "I just read a lot of books," I replied, slightly embarrassed.

    "Remind me to buy you a lot of books," she said, squeezing her son''s hand with mock seriousness. "But seriously, I wanted to thank you for what you did for me... Sorry, I don''t even know your name; Dr. House only introduced you as ''kid.''"

    "Oh, where are my manners? I''m so sorry about that," I said, embarrassed. "My name is PJ Duncan, Mrs. Palmero."

    "Duncan?" the woman repeated, surprised, looking at her son. "Like Ted¡ª" she began saying to him.

    "MOM!" Luke immediately interrupted, extremely embarrassed, his eyes widening dramatically.

    "Oh, sorry," she said, covering her mouth but clearly not regretful about what she was about to say. She smiled playfully, raising her eyebrows as she glanced between me and her son.

    Just like in the previous days, Luke instantly avoided eye contact with me. This time, I could even see how he instinctively seemed to want to run away from where he was standing.

    "Yes, Duncan like Teddy Duncan, my sister," I said, smiling along with the woman, who was obviously amused by her son''s reaction to my words. "Who needs her lab partner, so you need to go back to school," I added, causing the boy to lower his head and nervously nod.

    "Oh, he''s definitely going back," the woman said seriously. "So don''t worry about your sister''s lab partner," she added, significantly winking at me.

    I hoped Mrs. Palmero wouldn''t get the wrong idea¡ªTeddy wouldn''t have a boyfriend until her thirties.

    "That was all; I just wanted to thank you for what you did," she said, squeezing her son''s hand again as she winced, pressing the lower part of her abdomen.

    "I''m really glad you''re okay, ma''am, but you really need to go home and lie down. You had surgery a couple of days ago, and you can''t be sitting for too long," I said seriously. "Luke, did Dr. Bergin explain how to help your mom these days?"

    "Yeah," the boy replied, checking on his mother and holding up his notebook.

    "Good, I''m going to go now because you really need to get home. Do you need me to call a taxi for you?" I asked.

    "Oh no, Luke can handle that," the woman said casually. "I feel like I''m repeating myself, but really, thank you so much."

    "You''re really welcome, ma''am," I said, smiling slightly, still a bit embarrassed.

    "I hope we meet again someday," the woman said, smiling significantly as she squeezed her son''s hand.

    Yes, don''t get any ideas¡ªTeddy and Luke will only be friends.

    "Yes, ma''am," I said, forcing a smile. "Luke," I added, bidding farewell to the boy, who still couldn''t look me in the eye. Nodding to the woman one last time, I walked away from the small family, immediately feeling really good.

    The day passed without much else happening. Recalling the surgery I had observed yesterday, I used all the practice materials available in the skills lab to try to recreate the entire procedure¡ªat least what I could do without permanently damaging any of the test mannequins.

    Back home, after my training with Case, I dragged Gabe out of the house to play catch. "Do any of the neighborhood kids know who''s bothering Sheldon?" I asked after chatting about what had happened at his school and in his music classes.

    "Someone''s bothering Sheldon?" Gabe asked, surprised.

    "Yeah, how quickly can you find out who?" I asked, throwing the ball.

    "Depends, what''s in it for me?" Gabe asked seriously.

    "The feeling that you did something good for someone else?" I asked sarcastically. "It feels really good."

    Gabe snorted and raised an eyebrow.

    "You little¡ª A new comic," I said, shaking my head slightly, amused.

    "Three comics and a new game for my GameBoy," Gabe quickly counter-offered.

    "Deal," I said immediately. It wasn''t really that expensive.

    "Wha¡ª usually in the movies, this lasts longer," Gabe said, strangely disappointed.

    "Well, usually in the movies, the other party''s counter-offer asks for a lot more, and it escalates until they reach a middle ground," I said, amused as I watched my brother''s expression turn even more disappointed.

    "Ten comics and five games," Gabe quickly said.

    "Too late," I teased the boy, throwing the ball again.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    A slightly shorter chapter, since school is back in session, woo Yeah! (I need help).

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 71

    During the weekend, Gabe somehow managed to discover that the feared bully of Sheldon was Bobbie Sparks, the six-year-old girl who lived next door to the Coopers.

    "Bobbie Sparks? You mean Billy?" When I got the information, I spoke with Mr. Cooper, who asked me incredulously.

    "No, Bobbie Sparks," I repeated. It was definitely strange that a ten-year-old boy was being bullied by a six-year-old girl.

    "Okay..." Mr. Cooper slowly said, nodding as he seemingly stared into nothingness, "thanks." Coming back to the present, Mr. Cooper added as he entered his house, closing the door behind him.

    "You''re welcome," I replied, once again speaking to a closed door in front of my face.

    "Come on, Gabe, let''s go get your things," I said to Gabe, who was waiting on the sidewalk as I walked away from the Coopers'' door.

    "Finally," my brother exclaimed excitedly, practically running to ''Debbie.''

    The days passed, and the Coopers and the Sparks had some issues. According to Mom, who spoke with both women, it all stemmed from the ''absurd'' idea that a six-year-old girl would bully a boy Sheldon''s age.

    Since I had taken care of the Sparks'' children a few times in the past, I knew the girl, who was usually extremely sweet when dealing with me, so I completely understood the absurdity of the situation. But Gabe was very sure of his information.

    At school, the interactions among my friends had changed almost imperceptibly. Alan was still the same, always calm and quiet, but from what I could see, he was becoming more and more exhausted each day. David and Georgie hadn''t changed much, still arguing with each other, entertained by whatever the topic of the moment was.

    Brock was the one who worried me. As the days went by, his usually cheerful demeanor slowly turned more melancholic. Suddenly, he started leaving his lunch unfinished and became less interested in conversations. In class, he completely stopped turning in homework, and during practice, he always seemed distracted, earning repeated reprimands from the coaches. Something was definitely wrong.

    "Brock, what are you waiting for? Let''s hit the showers," I said at the end of the last practice of the week. Everyone had left under Coach Cooper''s orders to the showers, leaving Brock and me behind.

    "I''ll clean up when I get home," my friend said, forcing a smile as he put his things in his locker.

    "What? Why?" I asked, intrigued.

    "No reason, I just want to," Brock replied evasively, obviously lying.

    "Is something wrong?" I asked seriously, unable to hold back any longer.

    "What? No, why would something be wrong?" Brock asked sarcastically, snorting as if the idea was ridiculous. "Everything''s fine, not as fine as you, obviously, but it''s fine, okay?" he added defensively.

    "Okay," I quickly said, regretting trying to push him. "You just need to know that I''m here, we''re all here if you need anything," I added, watching my friend stand up.

    "Yeah, sure," Brock said ironically, snorting as he quickly walked out of the locker room with his backpack.

    "Something is definitely wrong," Alan suddenly said behind me.

    "Yeah," I responded seriously, pretending that his sudden appearance hadn''t scared me to death.

    "Do you want me to find out what''s going on?" Alan asked me slowly.

    "No, I still want to give him time to come and talk about it," I replied. "At least a few more days. After that, I''ll make sure to force him to talk," I added, annoyed.

    Whatever problems my friends have, I would like them to feel confident that they could talk to me about them, at least until I''m forced to intervene.

    "Suit yourself," Alan said.

    "How have you been?" I asked, changing the subject and raising one of my eyebrows. He also had some problem he wasn''t talking to anyone about.

    "Fine," my friend replied curtly as we walked to the showers.

    "Sure," I murmured, slightly frustrated.

    On Sunday, while Gabe and I were watching cartoons in the living room, there was a sudden and anxious knock on the front door. Nudging my brother with my elbow, I silently ordered him to go answer the door.

    Obviously annoyed at being interrupted during his TV time, Gabe stood up and, keeping his attention on the cartoons, walked slowly to the door. "Who- ah, Mrs. Cooper," my brother said.

    "Good morning, Gabe. Is your mom home?" Mrs. Cooper asked kindly, standing under the doorway and holding a box.

    "I don''t know," Gabe replied. "MOM, MRS. COOPER!" he yelled a moment later into the house, and as if his job was done, he ran back to the couch.

    I smacked Gabe on the back of the head for his lack of manners. "Please come in, Mrs. Cooper. Good morning," I said as I stood up and walked towards the woman.

    "Thank you very much, PJ," the woman said, smiling.

    "Ah, Mary," at that moment, my mom said cheerfully as she walked from the hallway to her room.

    "Amy," Mrs. Cooper greeted her with a smile and her usual slightly condescending tone. "I''m a bit worried," she added, placing her box on our table.

    I know Mrs. Cooper well enough to know that when she wasn''t worried, it was a special occasion.

    When she opened the box she had brought with her, I saw that it was filled with comics and magazines. I sighed, looking at my brother, who was still watching TV, thinking about what was coming for him.

    "Sheldon was reading this," Mrs. Cooper said, handing one of the comics from her box to my mom, clearly worried. "I know you''re not very devout, and that''s fine," she continued, placing one of her hands on my mom''s shoulder, obviously not thinking the same thing she had just said, "but I think there are things that children shouldn''t see, regardless of their religion."

    "Oh..." Mom said slowly, nodding as she flipped through the comic''s pages, obviously not buying into Mrs. Cooper''s always-present religious/moralistic speech.

    "I think you see what I mean¡ªguns, people dying, and the backside of a blue man," Mrs. Cooper whispered, given that Gabe was nearby, although I was sure the boy wasn''t paying attention. "I went to that irresponsible shopkeeper, and he didn''t care about selling that kind of thing to kids."

    Taking the comic from Mom''s hands, I flipped through the pages of the comic I didn''t recognize. I could see what Mrs. Cooper was referring to; this comic was a bit too adult for a ten-year-old.

    "I don''t know if Gabe reads this kind of stuff too, but I felt it was my duty as a good Christian to let you know," Mrs. Cooper said kindly, placing her hand on her chest.

    "I''ll look into it," Mom said seriously, nodding as she glanced at Gabe, who was still engrossed in the TV.

    "I just hope he takes it better than Sheldon. Now he wants us to treat him like an adult," Mrs. Cooper said sarcastically, thus beginning a conversation with Mom.

    Mom and Mrs. Cooper walked to the kitchen, maintaining a calm conversation about some gossip from another family on the street. Yeah, very Christian.

    I sat down next to Gabe, amused by my brother''s ignorance of what had just happened, and forced him into a hug.

    I had read a large number of the comics Gabe owned. There were some mildly intense moments, like the death of a character or implications of sexual scenes, but other than that, all the comics my brother had, and the ones I made sure he bought, were mainly about superheroes fighting villains.

    When Mrs. Cooper left that day, dragging Gabe along, who didn''t understand what was happening, she began a hunt for inappropriate content. Surprisingly, she didn''t find anything out of place.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "Fortunately, I thought something like this might happen. I hid all the good stuff a while ago," Gabe whispered to me, proud of himself.

    Surprised by my brother''s preventative skills, I decided to inspect those comics myself when I managed to find out where they were hidden.

    The next day, for the first time since we arrived in Texas, the city''s tornado sirens sounded loudly at the hospital.

    "We have to take cover, kid," House said worriedly as he looked out the window in his clinic office at the hospital.

    Surprised by the real emotion in House''s words, I nodded. "Stay away from the window; we need to go to the hospital shelter," I said.

    "What?" House exclaimed incredulously. "No, that''s the first place they''ll look," he continued.

    "I don''t understand," I said, confused.

    "It''s an emergency," he said, pointing to the window. "It''s all hands on deck," he said with disgust, "we need to hide before they send us to the emergency room to work," he finally explained, moving as if the idea gave him chills.

    That was my bad. I was thinking House had normal emotions. It was obvious he didn''t.

    House and I ''took shelter'' from the tornado winds in the morgue, the lowest floor of the hospital. "Everyone here is already dead; no one will come looking for us here," House said as he lay on one of the autopsy tables, reading a magazine with a small medical flashlight since the hospital was running on emergency lights.

    "Why don''t you want to help?" I asked, interested, even though it would be irresponsible for me to assist in the emergency room¡ªI had no privileges of any kind.

    "Because it''s boring," House immediately replied, making me regret even asking. "There''s nothing interesting,

    people bleeding with broken limbs, maybe a lucky impalement¡ªthat could be diagnosed and possibly treated by a veterinarian," he continued.

    When the tornado alarms fell silent, I ignored House, who was now comfortably asleep on the special tables for draining bodies, and climbed to the hospital''s main floor via the stairs.

    Fortunately, aside from dozens of people flooding the hospital hallways, as they seemed to be using the building as a shelter, nothing more serious was happening. I didn''t see any broken glass or anyone in need of help.

    "PJ," in one of the hospital''s hallways, my mom called out worriedly, carrying her purse. "Where were you? Why didn''t you go to the shelter?" she asked as she quickly checked my face and arms.

    "I''m fine. I was in a safe place," I quickly replied, avoiding telling her about my stay in the morgue.

    "Good, we need to go home, the lines are down," adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Mom said, incredibly worried as she dragged me through the hospital.

    Seeing how worried she was, I quickly followed her without bothering to stop for my things.

    "We''re going in my car," Mom ordered without any intention of arguing as she dragged me to her car. At least ''Debbie'' was intact from what I could see¡ªamazingly dirty with trash stuck to it by the water, but intact.

    The road home was completely dirty, full of mud, branches, and the occasional fallen tree in the middle. Since it was the only road to the hospital, the fire department was working to remove the obstacles so that ambulances could pass.

    "Everything is going to be fine," I said calmly, wanting not to worry my pregnant mother, hiding my own concerns as we saw more ambulances pass by.

    "Yes, Teddy and Gabe were at home; your dad should have been there too," Mom said, breathing anxiously as she repeated herself several times while driving.

    During the drive home, the only sound in the car was the radio with the report of what had happened. The tornado hadn''t passed near our neighborhood, which at least calmed Mom down a bit. School had been canceled for the next few days until further notice, and all the churches had set up shelters in case you needed to spend the night there.

    From a distance, our house, like the rest of the neighborhood, seemed intact; a couple of broken windows and some mess in the gardens were all that could be seen.

    "Oh, your dad''s truck," Mom said sadly, pointing to Bob''s awful truck, which now had a branch sticking out of the windshield.

    "At least he was home," I said, making Mom laugh despite the tears in her eyes, obviously from relief.

    Everyone was fine; my siblings were inside the house, sitting on the couch doing nothing since the electricity still hadn''t returned¡ªit might not come back that day¡ªand Bob was outside, looking to see if anyone needed help.

    "It was awesome! I was watching TV when a message appeared, then the alarms went off, and Teddy was super scared," Gabe energetically explained to me.

    "You were scared too," Teddy, who was in a hug with Mom, said angrily. "Dad had to pull you out from under the bed."

    "That''s not true," Gabe quickly told me, nervously.

    "It''s okay, buddy, I was scared too," I said calmly, hugging my brother''s head.

    "Really?" Gabe asked, incredulous.

    "Yes, being scared is normal," I said, gently pushing the boy''s head. "Mom, I''m going to see if Dad needs help," I added, hugging Teddy''s head as she separated from Mom.

    "Yes, I need to prepare the flashlights and candles before it gets dark," now much calmer, Mom quickly said as she stood up.

    "Can I go too?" Gabe asked, running to my side.

    "No," Mom immediately responded without even looking at Gabe.

    "What? Why?" my brother asked, disappointed.

    "It''s dangerous out there; you could get hurt. Besides, because I said so," Mom responded seriously, with no intention of changing her mind.

    "You heard her," I said, shaking Gabe''s head, making the boy, still disappointed, lower his head. "Help Mom," I ordered my siblings before heading out.

    Along with Mr. Cooper, Bob, and Georgie, we walked around the neighborhood looking to see if anyone needed help. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, fortunately, no one had suffered anything serious.

    "Can I go check if Case is okay? He lives in his trailer," I asked Bob as we walked back home.

    "That''s right," Bob said, suddenly remembering about my martial arts teacher and looking worried. "Let''s go together; the road could be dangerous," he added.

    After Bob and Mom hugged each other with relief, Bob told her where we were going. Once again, Gabe offered to go, apparently bored of being stuck at home, and once again, Mom immediately refused to let him go.

    On the way to where Case lived in Mom''s car, the road was much clearer, making our trip easier.

    "Oh no," Bob said when we finally arrived at the lot full of containers where Case lived, as we looked at the disaster that used to be our training ground.

    There was trash everywhere. All the ''equipment'' that Case had made was nowhere to be seen. Tree branches, tires, rocks, and even, strangely, a car door were scattered all over what was previously our training ground.

    It would be very difficult to clean everything up.

    "Case, are you okay?" I shouted to the muscular man, who was throwing away the trash near his home as I got out of the car.

    As I approached, I noticed that the side of his trailer had a large dent and the windows were missing where glass should have been.

    "Yeah," Case responded slowly, surprised by my presence there.

    "Let me give you a hand with that," Bob quickly said beside me, approaching Case, who was having trouble lifting a really large branch out of the way of his home.

    Helping to clear some of the trash from the path to his trailer, it took us a few minutes¡ªmuch less time than if it had just been two people, or worse, just Case.

    When we finished clearing the small area, Tim arrived in his truck.

    "Wow," my giant friend said, incredulous at the mess.

    "I know. Everything okay at your place?" I asked, greeting my muscular friend.

    "Yeah, my mom was at work, and my siblings were a bit scared, but everything''s fine," my friend responded kindly as always. "What about you?"

    "All good. Dad, this is Tim Newhouse; he also trains with Case," I quickly introduced them, seeing the surprise on Bob''s face¡ªTim was even taller than Bob.

    "Nice to meet you, Mr. Duncan," Tim said kindly, giving Bob a firm handshake.

    "Likewise," Bob said, smiling, though a bit intimidated.

    "What are you going to do, Case?" Tim asked the other muscular man, who was staring seriously at the entire area. "It''s too much to clean by hand."

    "Yeah, it is. And by tomorrow, it''ll be infested with rats and other animals," Bob added.

    "I need to move," Case calmly declared. "This place is lost," he added with some disappointment in his voice.

    "If you need, you can park it in front of our house," Bob offered calmly, surprising Case.

    "I don''t want to be a burden," Case quickly declined.

    "Nonsense," Bob immediately replied. "We live on the corner of the street; we have plenty of space to park your trailer. You can stay there as long as you need until you find another place or until this one is cleaned up," he added.

    "Are you sure?" Case asked seriously.

    "Of course, and it''s the perfect excuse for that barbecue¡ªI promised you one at Christmas, after all," Bob said cheerfully, patting Case on the shoulder. "Let''s see if it starts or if we have to tow it with the car," he added, walking towards the front of the trailer, ignoring anything else Case might have to say about it.

    "You have a great dad," Tim said, amused, kicking a small stone on the ground.

    "Yeah, I know," I responded, equally amused.

    After cleaning the broken glass from the driver''s seat, Case started his trailer, allowing us to say goodbye to Tim before heading home, where Bob explained his idea to Mom.

    "My man is a great person," Mom said ''excitedly,'' hugging Bob.

    Yeah, I didn''t want to see that.

    As I went outside with Case, I found him taping newspaper over where the windows of his trailer should be. "Need anything else?" I asked.

    "Nothing, thanks," Case said, taping the last piece. "We train in ten¡ªget dressed," he added as he threw the tape and remaining newspaper inside his trailer.

    "What?" I asked, surprised, watching as he stretched to grab something from inside his trailer.

    "Today''s a training day. Tim had to go home, but it''s just you and me here. Go change; we''re going to practice on the ground," Case said, holding a surprisingly large flashlight in his hand and positioning it over his trailer so that it illuminated a large part of my front yard.

    Incredulous at the situation, my brain couldn''t process what Case had just said.

    "What are you waiting for?" Case asked harshly, snapping me out of my trance.

    That day, my training with Case was one of the toughest I''d ever had. Usually, with Tim, I had time to rest after each technique. For some reason, Case avoided resting.

    He wasn''t taking out his anger over losing his training ground on me, was he?

    I hadn''t noticed, but at some point during my training with Case, the people in my house, along with some neighbors, had come out to watch the show. My yard, as well as the Coopers'', was filled with garden chairs and people enjoying themselves, eating and drinking. How had I not noticed them arrive?

    "That was the best thing I''ve ever seen, so cool," Missy said excitedly, sitting in a garden chair next to Teddy, completely focused on my bare chest.

    "Thanks," I said, trying to cover my body with my arms, a little uncomfortable with my semi-nakedness, as I walked back into the house, feeling all the eyes on the street on me. I could hear whistles behind me, making me quicken my pace.

    That night, with the neighbors who came out to enjoy the show, Bob and Mr. Cooper brought out their grills, turning the bad experience of the tornado into a neighborhood barbecue.

    "I need to go," Case said nervously, avoiding the gaze of some women. Apparently, I wasn''t the only one who had caught people''s attention.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 72

    "Filler" Chapter, It''s exam season again (help please!!!).

    There are important things for the plot, but not much actual development.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    The tornado wind had somehow damaged the electrical system in our neighborhood enough that we didn''t have electricity for the rest of the week.

    Since everyone''s refrigerators in the neighborhood obviously weren''t working, a lot of meat could spoil, and if there''s one thing I learned from Texas, it''s that nobody would allow that to happen. As a result, communal barbecue dinners became a regular thing during those days. Strangely, so did the "programming" to watch the "show" that Case and I put on daily.

    At first, it was very awkward to practice ground techniques with Case while people watched, but as the days passed, I found it quite amusing. The neighborhood women''s competition for the "best seats" and Case''s discomfort with the way they stared at him became a highlight. Thanks to Georgie and Meemaw, I also learned that people were betting on how many times I could tap Case out during practice, which motivated me to try even harder. By the end of the week, the pathetic numbers had improved, at least a little.

    Over the weekend, I went with Mom and my siblings to the shopping area, mainly to do a load of laundry at the laundromat. While the washing machines did their job, Gabe and Teddy went next door to the movie rental store to see if there was anything interesting.

    Meanwhile, Mom ran into other women from our street who apparently had the same idea, and she happily chatted with them, leaving me with nothing to do.

    When I left the laundromat intending to find my siblings and look for some interesting movies with them, I bumped into Randy, the guy from the boxing gym who would make up anatomical parts to scare people into buying equipment, carrying several cardboard boxes in his hands.

    "Randy," I said, greeting him. I remembered how much fun it had been to mess with him when I first met him.

    "You''ve got the wrong guy. I''m not Randy," he said, suddenly stopping, balancing the seemingly empty boxes in his hands to keep them from falling. He was obviously lying and oddly nervous.

    "Wha¨C" I tried to say.

    "Does this ''Randy'' owe you money?" he interrupted, cutting off my question.

    "No," I replied slowly, watching as Randy''s worried expression immediately returned to normal.

    Did he owe money to someone?

    "Great," Randy said, nodding, clearly relieved, and began walking again as if our interaction had never happened.

    "Okay," I said, amused as I watched him carefully walk toward the door of his gym, trying not to drop the boxes.

    When Randy tried to open the door to his place, he dropped all the boxes stacked in his arms. It was an incredibly funny sight. Completely flustered, he picked up the boxes one by one from the ground, only for the door he had managed to open to close again. He then began trying to open the door with the boxes in his hands once more, dropping them again.

    "Let me help you," I said, both impressed and amused, watching Randy repeat the cycle. Walking over to his side, I held the door open while he picked up the boxes again.

    "Thanks," Randy said, for some reason surprised, as if he didn''t understand the concept of kindness.

    "Don''t mention it," I replied, watching as Randy entered the place, which, upon closer inspection, was completely disorganized. "What happened here?" I asked, surprised. I had seen the place not too long ago, and now it looked completely different.

    "The owner closed the place," Randy explained, throwing the empty boxes onto the gym floor, once again oddly avoiding the fact that he was the owner.

    "Closed it?" I asked, confused.

    "Yeah, he''s going to sell it," Randy replied as he began packing things into the boxes.

    He definitely owed someone money, probably someone dangerous¡­ wait.

    As I processed his words, I glanced around the place. It was possibly a little larger than the paved area of the vacant lot we used for training with Case. The walls were lined with gym equipment¡ªfar more than Case had and in much better condition.

    "How much?" I asked, refocusing on Randy, who was still packing things into boxes.

    "What?" Randy asked, confused, frowning.

    "How much do you want for the gym, Randy?" I asked again, planting the idea in my mind that I could finally get a break from Case''s grueling training sessions.

    "I told you, I''m not Randy," Randy quickly said, "and I don''t have time for games," he added irritably, probably assuming I didn''t have the money to buy the place.

    "I know someone who might be interested in buying it," I quickly lied, trying to get his attention. "Stop packing and wait here for ten minutes," I added, ignoring any further questions Randy might have as I rushed out of the gym.

    Telling Mom I''d be back soon, I grabbed her car keys and left the shopping area.

    "Where are you taking me?" Case asked curiously from the passenger seat of Mom''s car as we headed back to the shopping area.

    "I told you, it''s a surprise," I said, cheerfully imagining what it would be like to finally have some peace at home.

    We finally arrived at the gym. "Ta-da!" I said, opening the door to the place, grabbing Randy''s attention as he continued folding and packing everything he used to scam people.

    "I told you I don''t have time for¡ª" Randy started saying when he saw me but immediately went silent when he saw Case. He was clearly terrified.

    "A gym?" Case asked, looking around the place.

    "Not just a gym, a gym for sale," I quickly corrected, trying to sell the idea to Case. "Right, Randy?" I asked, widening my eyes dramatically as I looked at the man on the floor, still completely speechless.

    "Ye-yeah," Randy replied nervously, standing up. "I''m selling the place and the equipment," he added, realizing Case wasn''t one of the people he was so scared of.

    "Well, good luck with that," Case said, nodding, completely disinterested, and turning to leave the place.

    "Wha¡ªCase!" I called out, following him. "It''s a great opportunity," I said, standing in front of the muscular man, confused by his attitude.

    "Look, PJ, I appreciate this, really," Case said, raising one of his hands and dropping the frown that seemed to be permanently on his face, "but I lived on that lot for a reason. I don''t have the money to pay for something better, let alone for a place like this."

    I knew Case didn''t have the money. Heck, he charged us for lessons with a couple of bucks and a sack of potatoes. "You didn''t let me tell you the best part¡ªI''ll buy it," I declared.

    "I''m not a charity case," Case snorted, frowning once again, clearly offended.

    "Charity? No," I exclaimed, surprised. "I''m talking about a partnership, fifty-fifty. We''re going to open a gym," I continued, smiling excitedly.

    "A gym?" Case asked, clearly not buying into the idea.

    "Or a dojo, call it whatever you want," I replied. "We''d just need to get you more students, because obviously, you''d be the one teaching. And we''ll set a real fee this time, no more sacks of potatoes," I said, making plans in my head. "We could compete in tournaments, grow the gym," I continued. Initially, the idea had come from wanting to avoid more grueling training sessions, but now it was slowly growing into a potential business.

    "It''s a great plan, PJ, but you don''t have the money to buy this place, and I''m not going to take advantage of your parents'' kindness any more than I already have," Case said, losing his frown and shaking his head slightly.

    Oh, Case. "I have the money," I declared with complete confidence. I still had just over twenty thousand dollars in my savings account, and if absolutely necessary, I was sure I could get some funds from Warren.

    "What?" Case asked, clearly incredulous.

    "Come on, let''s talk to Randy," I said, ignoring Case as I walked back into the gym, hoping internally that Case would follow. Thankfully, after a few seconds, Case walked in behind me.

    Seeing our interest in buying his business, Randy immediately, and as I expected, started trying to inflate the price, clearly wanting to squeeze out as much as possible¡ªbasically, a scam.

    "Randy, I know you''re in financial trouble," I said, standing next to Case, who kept his eyes fixed on Randy, arms crossed, apparently flexing his biceps to intimidate him. "You probably owe money to someone dangerous," I declared, watching Randy''s expression of surprise. Bingo! "Fifteen thousand dollars is the best deal you''re going to get for this place and the equipment. I''m telling you, you won''t find another buyer willing to take all this equipment," I added, gesturing around the place.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Looking at all the bags, even the ring in the gym, I saw Randy processing my words, tightly closing his eyes as he likely thought it over.

    "That''s fifteen thousand easy," I said, smiling as I slowly saw Randy''s resolution. "You could leave town for a while with that," I added.

    Thanks to my amazing negotiation skills¡ªand certainly not the intimidating presence of Case by my side¡ªRandy accepted the offer after thinking about it for a few minutes. He called his lawyer from a payphone, giving me time to return home and bring Bob, who was technically in charge of my savings account.

    "A gym?" Bob asked, raising one eyebrow at me.

    "Yeah," I replied easily. "I''d be in a partnership with Case. Basically, he''d do all the work while I get money for doing practically nothing. Don''t tell him, but I feel like I''m taking advantage of him," I discreetly told Bob.

    "Are you sure about this? It might not work out as you expect," Bob said, concerned.

    "I''m sure," I responded resolutely.

    "All right, it''s your money," Bob said as he stood up from the couch, where he had been reading one of his magazines. "And this is your first business. If you do this, you''re going to have to work," he declared with a mischievous smile, placing his hand on my shoulder.

    "I can''t teach, I''m just learning," I said nervously, following Bob as he got ready to leave the house. I barely had time in my schedule and couldn''t afford to also work at the gym.

    "Oh no, there are taxes, registrations, administration, and many other things that don''t require you to teach someone how to punch a bag. You''re going to have to work hard," Bob added, amused, as he opened the door to the house and winked at me.

    I didn''t like this anymore.

    Letting Bob drive Mom''s car, Case and I followed him in ''Debbie.'' When we arrived back at the gym, Bob took a thorough look at everything Randy had shown us, much more meticulous than Case and I had been.

    "I don''t see any signs of rodents or other pests, but that door''s lock needs to be replaced, possibly the whole door," Bob said seriously, running his hand over the wooden door in the surprisingly spacious storage room at the back of the building.

    Randy, who had been nervously following Bob, suddenly calmed down when he saw a man in a cheap suit step out of a terrible car, flashing a wide grin.

    "Randy, what a pleasure that you called," the man said with an unnervingly wide smile as he entered the gym and approached Randy.

    "I think we could knock down that wall and practically double the gym''s space," Bob said, slightly excited, while Randy spoke quietly with his lawyer, temporarily dropping his judgmental facade.

    "And I could park my house back there," Case added. Though his face remained serious, I could sense a hint of excitement.

    "Sure, you''d have everything right at hand¡ªentertainment, food, laundry, and your job," Bob said cheerfully, patting Case on the shoulder, clearly more excited about the idea than anyone else.

    "Shall we discuss the terms of the sale?" Randy''s lawyer asked, interrupting whatever else Case or Bob had to say, his unsettling smile still firmly in place.

    "Sure," Bob replied, regaining his serious demeanor instantly, losing the excited smile.

    The days passed. Randy''s lawyer had written up and sent a contract, but of course, we didn''t sign it right away. Instead, Bob contacted his own lawyer to review it.

    The electricity in our neighborhood came back, along with the obligation to attend school. Sheldon was more petulant than usual with the teachers, seemingly incredibly bored, only perking up whenever there was a chance to compete with me.

    At the hospital, aside from my time with House in the clinic, I attended a few other interesting surgeries. Fortunately, with the help of the nurses, I managed to completely avoid Dr. Bergin''s operating room.

    Without realizing it, a couple of weeks had passed, and it was now the day the gym''s ownership transfer would take place.

    "Here you go, there are no other copies of the keys. This is for the new lock on the back door," Randy said as he handed me the keys after he and Bob, who was my legal guardian, finished signing and processing all the paperwork.

    "Thank you, it was a pleasure doing business," I said formally, shaking the man''s hand firmly, mimicking characters I''d seen in movies a few times.

    "Yeah, sure," Randy replied, smiling at the check for fifteen thousand dollars, barely paying attention to me.

    "Okay, see you around," I said, ignoring the man, who still seemed to be admiring the check in his hands, as I walked over to where Case and Bob were, standing by the gym''s now-closed and dirty doors, which had seen no activity in recent days.

    "We own a gym!" I said excitedly, tossing the keys to Case.

    "You own the gym," Case replied with a slight smile of sarcasm as he opened the door.

    "We''ve already discussed this; you can start making payments whenever you can until we both own it equally," I said, patting my new partner on the shoulder as I looked at the inside of our gym.

    "Then we better get to work. There''s a lot to do, and now we can clean up. I''ve missed enclosed spaces," Case said, returning the gesture with a sarcastic pat on my shoulder.

    "As I said, hard work," Bob added with a smile, heading toward one of the nearby stores, a small supermarket. "I''ll get some cleaning supplies."

    Not long after we started cleaning the place, Tim arrived. "No way, a real dojo!" my gigantic friend said excitedly, standing in the doorway with a wide grin.

    "It''s real," Case said with a faint smile. "Grab those boxes and take them to the back," he added, immediately cutting off Tim''s awe.

    Bob, Tim, Case, and I finished cleaning the place relatively quickly, allowing us to start organizing the bags and other equipment, except for the ring, so we could set everything up.

    Case, who had already parked his trailer in the alley behind the gym, stepped out for a moment while the rest of us began hanging the bags where they belonged.

    "What''s all that for?" Bob asked as Case walked in with a couple of tires and some rope in his arms.

    "Training," Case replied with a faint smile.

    "You know we have practically brand-new equipment, right?" I asked nervously, recognizing what all that stuff was for.

    "It''s important to stick to the basics. The bags are useful, yes, but they''re not designed for everything. This is how I learned," Case explained, placing the gear in a corner. "I''ve got more stuff in the back," he added.

    After several minutes, the gym was ''ready.'' We still had to knock down the wall separating the storage room, but we decided to wait until we could hire a contractor to do it properly.

    "It''ll be ready by Monday," Case declared seriously, standing by the door and looking at the gym we had set up. Everything was almost in place and ready for ''clients,'' except for Case''s¡­ unique additions.

    Unlike how Randy had organized the gym, now with ropes, weights, gloves, wraps, bags, and Case''s flags hanging up, the gym felt much more like a sports facility than a business. Case had no intention of selling sports equipment, which I could somewhat respect. Still, after looking over the gym''s books¡ªsurprisingly well-kept, to be honest¡ªI really would''ve liked to see a bit more income from the place, but hey, I''m fine with recovering my money slowly¡­ I think.

    "Well, go get ready. Let''s begin," Case said, clapping his hands loudly as he walked to the center of the gym.

    "What?" Tim and I asked in disbelief at the same time.

    "We just finished setting everything up," Tim declared nervously, as exhausted as I was.

    "And that''s why I wasn''t planning on being too tough on you. But since you''re going to whine about it, I''m reconsidering," Case said sarcastically.

    "I''ll grab my stuff from my car," I said quickly, rushing out of the gym, ignoring Bob, who seemed very amused by the situation.

    On Monday, two days after we finished preparing the gym, school went by as it had been lately. Brock, worrying me more each day, interacted less with us, basically just sitting quietly to eat his lunch without sharing his opinions.

    "I really would''ve liked to come to your gym," David said disappointedly at the end of school. "But my mom banned me from it. She says, ''Football is already enough violence in my life,''" he added exasperatedly, imitating his mom''s voice. I didn''t know the woman, but I could understand where her concern came from. It was rare to find a family that wasn''t Christian in Medford.

    "Yeah, my mom threatened to send me to church every day after school if I tried to learn how to hit people, I tried to ask dad when she wasn''t around, but it seems she has ears all over the house," Georgie said, equally disappointed. Unlike David''s mother, I knew Mrs. Cooper, and that definitely sounded like something she''d do.

    I had already spoken with Alan about it, and he had declined my offer on his own. I totally understood it, considering how his father made him train.

    Thinking the best way to attract clients would be to advertise, I decided not to go to the hospital that day and, along with Case and Tim, went out to post flyers wherever we were allowed.

    When we returned to the gym, we found a small group of people waiting outside.

    "We heard the gym was reopening. Did Randy change his mind?" one of the men asked, amused, as Case unlocked the door.

    "Oh no, he bought the place," I quickly replied, pointing at Case. We had decided it was best to present Case as the owner. It wouldn''t be ideal for people to know a teenager owned the place. "New management," I added, inviting the group inside along with Tim.

    Despite Medford being such a small town, the fact that we practically had no commercial competition meant that anyone who wanted to train would come here.

    "What are you standing there for? You''ve got more free time today. Start ground and pound on that bag," Case ordered me with a frown, his tone completely different from how he spoke to the clients. "Tim, when you''re done there, work on knees and elbows with the heavy bag," he added, looking at my giant friend, who was explaining the correct foot positioning to one of the clients.

    Soon, the gym was filled with the sounds of punches and people talking. Case walked around the gym, patiently paying attention to anyone who needed help. "Switch with Tim," he ordered me, his attitude shifting abruptly as he passed by again. I could tell the visitors were intrigued by the unusual training methods Case had us doing, but in the end, they just wanted to learn boxing.

    "I want to pay my membership and a month in advance," one of the trainees said excitedly after the session ended.

    "Me too," added the others one by one.

    "It''s different when someone actually knows what they''re teaching you," one of the men said, sweaty but cheerful, playfully nudging his friend.

    As our first clients left the gym, the cash register no longer empty, and the books finally not in the red, I smiled as I approached Case and Tim. "Great job today," I said happily, patting Case on the shoulder.

    "They''re just learning boxing," Case said, surprisingly irritated.

    "Well yeah, this used to be a boxing gym, and they''re paying for it," I replied calmly. I remembered the warnings Case had given me when I first started training with him: ''I''ll teach you what you need.'' Surely, having to teach someone what they wanted instead of what they ''needed'' went against his principles, but this was a business. "Later on, you can offer classes for other things, or a combination. We could call it mixed martial arts or something like that," I added.

    "Yeah," Case replied, dragging out the word as he nodded slowly. "Well, let''s start rolling. We''ve got a couple more hours before closing," he added with a malicious smile, patting Tim and me on the shoulders.

    I really hoped the brutal training sessions would end once the gym opened. It was a big dream.

    "Hey, about my membership and payments¡ª" Tim started saying after a couple of hours of sparring, both on the ground and standing, as we were cleaning the ''dojo'' by Case''s orders.

    "What you did today, helping Case show the basics to the clients, was great," I quickly said, interrupting him. I knew, from the state of his truck and the quality of his clothes, that Tim had some financial struggles. Paying for a membership and enrollment might not be easy for him. "I don''t think I''m knowledgeable enough to teach anyone yet, and we certainly don''t have the money to hire anyone for now, but if you''re willing to keep doing it, we can count it as payment for your membership."

    "Yeah, I''m going to need help," Case quickly added.

    "Look, thanks, but¡ª" Tim started again.

    "And once we get more clients, I think we''ll have the funds to pay you a salary. For now, it''ll have to be in exchange for your membership. Sorry, Tim," I said quickly, cutting him off again. As long as I could avoid it, I would never charge my friends anything.

    "All right," Tim replied with a smile, returning his attention to what he was doing.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    By the way, almost when I finished writing this chapter, I discovered, thanks to an Instagram reel, that it is a relatively normal thing for Americans who live in tornado zones to have gasoline generators at home. I don''t know what things were like in the 90s so sorry about that, but as I said in the previous paragraph, I''m not American :D

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 73

    I watched the movie *The Accountant* again and realized that at no point does the surname "Treveiler" appear. Intrigued by the reason behind my use of this name, I did some research and discovered that Rob Treveiler is not the name of the protagonist''s father in the movie, but his real name!

    In fact, the father''s character doesn''t have a name, and the protagonist ends up being Christian Wolff. Therefore, from now on, Alan will be Alan Wolff, not Treveiler.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    The week passed, and unfortunately, nothing changed. At least new clients started arriving at the gym, taking up much of Case''s previously free time. Apparently, word-of-mouth advertising was quite effective in a town like Medford.

    On Friday, after training and upon arriving home in the evening, I was surprised to see Sheldon standing on the porch, obviously under the small roof.

    "PJ," my always formal little friend said as I got out of my car, walking over to me. "Today was my first physics class at East Texas Tech with Dr. John Sturgis," he said proudly, puffing out his chest and smiling as if expecting something from me.

    "Congratulations," I said, puzzled. "I didn''t know you were leaving school," I continued, surprised.

    "Oh no, I''ll only be attending Dr. Sturgis''s lectures once a week," Sheldon quickly explained.

    "Well, good for you," I added, smiling at the kid, which made Sheldon lose his odd smug smile for a moment.

    "I wanted to tell you after the first class so I''d have enough knowledge to rub it in your face," Sheldon said, oddly disappointed. "You know who Dr. Sturgis is, right?" he asked.

    "No, physics is more your thing, Sheldon," I replied after a few seconds of watching my little friend.

    "Oh, that explains your lack of reaction," Sheldon said, nodding thoughtfully. "Dr. John Sturgis carbon-dated the oldest human feces," he spoke slowly, as if the fact was incredibly exciting, again waiting to see my reaction.

    "Good for him," I responded hesitantly, unsure if that was the reaction Sheldon was hoping for.

    And judging by his expression, it definitely wasn''t.

    "He''s a famous scientist, and I''m going to learn from him. Not like a one-on-one class, but I sit in the front, so it feels like it," Sheldon added quickly, seemingly a bit desperate.

    Oh, I get it. Sorry, buddy. "I''m so jealous of you right now," I exclaimed exaggeratedly, finally understanding the situation. "I can''t hide it anymore¡ªyou''re going to learn from a renowned physicist, the oldest human feces." I added, feigning astonishment, amused by Sheldon''s proud face.

    "I know," Sheldon declared arrogantly, keeping his head held high.

    "Well, I''m really happy for you, little friend," I said, patting his shoulder lightly.

    "Also, I have a question for you," Sheldon said, stopping me just as I was about to head inside. "Dr. Sturgis asked my Meemaw to dinner with romantic intentions," he added.

    "Okay," I said, puzzled. "Good for her," I added dubiously, studying Sheldon''s reaction.

    "Oh, absolutely," Sheldon said excitedly. "More importantly, good for me. Can you imagine? Dr. Sturgis living so close to me¡ªwe''ll spend hours talking about physics. Plus, the number of intelligent people in my family would immediately double."

    "You might be getting ahead of yourself," I said, amused by his excitement at the possibility of his Meemaw having a partner.

    "I guess you''re right, but you can''t blame me for dreaming," Sheldon said calmly. "I just wanted to ask, what can I do to make sure this date goes well?" he suddenly asked.

    "Wha¡ª" I started, incredulous. Sheldon wanted advice from me about his Meemaw''s date.

    "At school, a lot of people talk about how you went out with Regina George. And given my height, people usually don''t notice when I''m around, so I hear many conversations I wish I hadn''t," Sheldon said oddly. "You don''t want to know what girls at school say about you," he added with disgust, apparently a little traumatized. "Intercourse should only be for reproduction."

    What? I definitely didn''t want to know what he had overheard, especially not from a ten-year-old.

    "I''m no expert, not at all," I replied. "But if I had to give any advice: honesty," I said, recalling the relationship between Dr. Thomas and Dottie. I didn''t have much advice for myself, let alone for someone Meemaw''s age.

    "Honesty, I like that," Sheldon said, nodding and rubbing his chin. "Got it. Thanks."

    And with that, Sheldon just walked off like nothing happened.

    "Okay, nice talk," I said, watching him walk away before heading inside myself.

    The next day, Saturday, before heading out to work on the gym''s finances and possibly train early, I saw an older man carefully dismounting a bicycle. After a moment, he took a small bouquet of flowers from the basket at the front of the bike.

    "Dr. Sturgis, I guess," I murmured, watching with interest as the man approached Meemaw''s door.

    He knocked, and after a moment, the door opened¡ªnot by Meemaw, but by Sheldon, who seemed extremely excited as he invited the man inside. Once Dr. Sturgis entered the house, Sheldon spotted me across the street and gave me a thumbs-up.

    Amused by Sheldon''s behavior, I continued on my way, mentally wishing the man luck with his date... and with Sheldon.

    On Sunday morning, as I was cleaning ''Debbie'' after my morning run, I saw Sheldon walking back from Meemaw''s house.

    "Hey buddy, good morning," I greeted the boy.

    "Good morning, PJ. Question, should I be worried that Dr. Sturgis wasn''t in Meemaw''s bed this morning?" Sheldon asked, making me drop the rag in my hand.

    Another mental image I definitely didn''t need.

    On Monday, I stood by my locker, as I did every school day, waiting for my friends. Georgie and David were the first to arrive, as usual, debating some random topic¡ªeither girls, cars, or action movies with extravagant-haired protagonists.

    "Hey, where''s Alan?" Georgie asked when he got to my side.

    It was odd for my calm friend not to be there already, usually at his locker, either observing people or listening with interest to whatever happened over the weekend or the previous day.

    "I don''t know," I said, checking my watch, puzzled. "What about Brock? Has anyone seen him?" I asked this time.

    "Oh yeah, I saw him go into the front bathroom with Johnson and Smith," David replied, raising his eyebrows.

    The front bathroom was known as the place for people to go smoke. Fortunately, Sheldon avoided it at all costs because of the smell. Otherwise, knowing the kid, I was sure he''d get into more trouble than I''d be able to get him out of.

    "I''ll be back in a minute," I said, exasperated, closing my locker and handing my backpack to Georgie as I walked toward the bathrooms.

    As soon as I opened the door, the stench hit me right in the face. The usual smell of boys'' bathrooms was completely masked by the foul odor of cigarette smoke.

    "You need to close your fist properly and stretch your arm like this," I heard a voice say as I entered, followed by the typical sound of someone throwing a punch and another receiving it.

    "What''s going on here?" I asked as I stepped inside. Only Brock and the two idiots were there, the latter in boxing stances facing my friend.

    "Duncan, you almost gave me a heart attack," David Smith said, breaking his posture as he flicked the ash off his cigarette.

    "We''re just having fun," Michael Johnson added with a dumb laugh as he practiced a straight punch. "Tell your owner, Porker."

    "Yeah, we''re just having fun, PJ," Brock said, clearly in pain as he tried to hide it.

    Screw this. "I''m not buying that," I said, irritated, walking up to Smith, who just raised an eyebrow.

    "Oh, you''re not?" the idiot asked, oddly checking behind me as if looking for someone. "Where''s your other girlfriend, where''s Wolff?"

    Alan?

    "Okay, we have English in a minute, we should get going," Brock said nervously, pulling me by the arm. "Sorry, guys, see you later," he added as we left the bathroom.

    "Brock," I stopped abruptly in the main hallway of the school, freeing myself from his now anxious grip. "I''m tired of this. You can''t let them treat you like this," I added, noticing how his expression changed.

    "''Like this''?" my friend asked, strangely upset. "Like what? We were having fun until you showed up," my friend exclaimed, oddly offended, drawing the attention of the few people still in the hallway.

    "Who was having fun, you or them?" I asked angrily. "Don''t you see? They''re laughing at you, they''re bullying you, and you''re letting them," I said, unable to hold back any longer. I was frustrated not only with Brock for ignoring how he was being treated but also with myself for letting it go on for so long.

    "They''re my friends, they''re cool. I thought you were too, but now I get it¡ªyou''re just a wuss. Don''t talk to me anymore," Brock said, bumping into my shoulder and avoiding the stares of the

    people in the hallway as he walked back toward the bathroom.

    Damn it. Angrier than ever and unsure how to make my friend see the reality of the situation, I returned to where only David and Georgie were waiting nervously with my backpack.

    "How''d it go?" they both asked simultaneously.

    Unable to say anything, I just shook my head.

    The day passed in a blur. I let Sheldon answer all the questions while I worked through my assignments on autopilot, unable to stop thinking about how things had gone down with Brock.

    Alan had never shown up.

    During lunch, Brock avoided our table, sitting instead with the two idiots, occasionally laughing with them and receiving the occasional ''friendly'' punch to the arm.

    At the end of the day, still unable to figure anything out, I went to the hospital, still wondering if there was anything I could do.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    And while I was training that day, all I could think about were those two idiots as I hit the punching bag.

    The days passed again, and to my dismay, nothing changed. Alan still hadn''t shown up at school, Brock avoided David, Georgie, and me like the plague, and at the hospital, apart from some clinic work with House and a couple of surgeries, nothing else had changed.

    "I might be a little late tomorrow," I said to House on Wednesday night as I put my things away. He was playing with his little video game console.

    "And why does that matter to me?" House sarcastically asked, not taking his eyes off his device. "Besides, if I remember correctly, you don''t have a schedule," he added.

    So now I don''t have a schedule, only when it''s convenient for him.

    "Alright, see you," I said, exasperated, as I left his office.

    I had decided that if Alan didn''t show up again the next day at school, I''d go to his house to make sure everything was okay. And that''s exactly what I did.

    After school, when I knocked on the door of my quiet friend''s house, I could hear what I assumed was his younger brother, Christian, loudly reciting some kind of poem. A moment later, Alan, with one of his eyes partially closed and swollen, opened the door. "PJ," I heard him murmur as he stepped outside and closed the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

    "When one of my friends misses school for more than half the week, I get worried," I replied, examining his face. "What''s going on, Alan?" I asked seriously.

    "Nothing, just a training accident," my friend quickly said, turning his face to avoid letting me see his eye.

    "Accident?" I asked, annoyed. "Don''t give me that nonsense. This can''t keep going on. One day, he''s going to really hurt you. He could hurt your brothers. You need to do something, or I will," I declared angrily. "If it doesn''t stop, I''ll talk to the sheriff."

    "We''re moving," Alan interrupted, clearly trying to change the conversation. "To another state. Dad''s back in active service. We''re moving in a few days. Actually, tomorrow we''re going to the school to sign whatever documents are needed," he quickly added.

    "What?" I asked, incredulous. "Were you planning on telling us?" I added, slightly hurt. Of all my friends, Alan was possibly the closest, despite his quieter personality.

    "I don''t know," my friend admitted, lowering his head in embarrassment.

    "You don''t know?" I asked, offended. "Aren''t we friends?" I added, apparently making Alan feel even more ashamed. Good. "What kind of garbage is this? I''m going to talk to him. There has to be something we can do. He can''t do this," I said, blinded by my emotions, trying to walk toward my friend''s house. I couldn''t help Brock, I couldn''t help Alan¡ªwhat was the point of knowing everything I knew if I couldn''t do anything for the people close to me?

    As I tried to pass Alan, aiming to enter his house, he lightly pushed me, stopping me in my tracks.

    "I need to talk to your dad. I''m going to fix this," I said, even if it meant threatening him. There had to be something I could do.

    My words did nothing to convince Alan to step aside. "Don''t make me do this," he said, pushing me again with a disappointed look on his face.

    "Do what?" I asked, growing more furious as I got closer, trying to avoid being pushed again. Somehow, I failed and was nearly knocked over by another quick shove from my friend.

    Screw this, I threw the first punch.

    "I can''t help Brock," I said, as despite thinking the punch was well-executed, Alan somehow managed to redirect it, moving surprisingly quickly away from my hits. "I can''t help you," I continued, throwing punches and kicks, but Alan, as if all my hours of training with Case and Tim were a joke, effortlessly dodged or blocked every single one. "I''m tired of not being able to do anything," I shouted, adjusting to Alan''s footwork and finally managing to knock him to the ground.

    On the ground, feeling more in control, I quickly grabbed Alan''s arm and, as I had practiced hundreds of times with Tim or Case, I positioned my body in a swift move to lock in an armbar. It felt like I had done it smoothly, just like in dozens of those practice sessions, until Alan, for the first time in our ''fight,'' threw a surprisingly well-placed punch to my liver, forcing me to lose my grip for a second. Immediately, he pushed me off with force.

    "Wha¡ª" I began to say, noticing how Alan, replicating my movements step by step and at the same speed, grabbed my arm and applied the exact same technique I had just tried on him.

    Not long after, with my arm in his control, I had to tap.

    On the ground, exhausted after what had really been only a couple of seconds of intense ''fighting,'' I closed my eyes in disappointment.

    "It''s my family," Alan suddenly said, lying next to me on the ground, but his breathing much calmer. "My mom abandoned us, but he didn''t. I can''t take my brothers away from their father," he added sadly. I understood¡ªI really did.

    Unable to hold back the sadness of the situation, I let a few tears escape from my eyes. We spent a couple of minutes lying on the front lawn, staring at the sky.

    "Please go home," Alan said wearily as the shouting from inside his house, which had stopped a while ago, started up again.

    And with those words, I knew I had once again failed to help a friend.

    "I didn''t know you trained Jiu-Jitsu," I said ironically, getting to my feet alongside my friend.

    "I never did," Alan responded, walking back into his house, leaving me standing there, impressed by the revelation. It had taken me dozens of attempts to get an armbar right, and he had managed to do it on his first try after seeing me do it once.

    That day, I arrived at the gym much earlier to train harder. Even Tim seemed a bit worried.

    The next day, during lunch, someone from our year came over to our table to tell us that Alan had arrived with his father.

    Along with David and Georgie, who were now the only two people at our table, we went out to see what was happening. Strangely, other people followed.

    Alan''s father was dressed formally in his military uniform, carrying his hat in one arm as he walked with Alan from the principal''s office. It seemed they had already finished whatever they were doing.

    "What''s going on?" Georgie asked nervously.

    "He''s leaving," I said, watching my usually expressionless friend, now looking sad.

    "What?" David and Georgie asked simultaneously.

    "His dad is back in active service. They''re moving," I explained.

    "Is there nothing we can do?" Georgie asked.

    "No, I already tried," I replied, disappointed in myself.

    "And he''s leaving without saying anything? Some friend," David said ironically, understandably upset, as he walked back into the cafeteria with Georgie and the small crowd that had gathered to watch Alan and his father. I still didn''t get the fascination with gossip at school.

    Seeing my friend''s defeated behavior, I quickly decided to follow him. "Alan, wait," I called out, managing to stop him. After asking his father for permission, Alan came over.

    "What?" Alan asked, avoiding eye contact.

    "I''m sorry about what happened yesterday," I said, embarrassed. "Even though I didn''t really accomplish anything," I muttered, remembering how he had basically toyed with me.

    "It''s fine, I''m sorry too," my friend said, smiling slightly.

    "Great," I nodded. "Good luck," I added, extending my hand for a handshake, which Alan, now smiling more visibly, accepted, both of us fighting back tears. "Oh, come here, you ass," I pulled Alan into a hug. "No matter where you are, you''ll always be my friend," I declared, feeling Alan freeze for a moment before he returned the hug just as tightly.

    "Thanks," I barely heard Alan say before we pulled away from each other.

    "Hey, I got your back," I said, laughing sadly as I noticed Alan smiling more than I had ever seen before.

    "I got your back," my friend nodded before heading off in the direction his father had gone moments earlier.

    "What a loser," I heard nearby, of course, it was Michael Johnson and David Smith, always there to ruin the moment.

    Ignoring the two idiots I hadn''t noticed until then, I flipped them off and headed back into the cafeteria, noticing how Brock, who was standing with them, avoided looking in my direction entirely.

    The news of Alan''s departure spread quickly throughout the school. By the end of the day, there wasn''t a single person who didn''t know.

    After the final bell, announcing the end of the school day, I noticed that the once relatively calm school hallways were now filled with older students bullying the younger ones.

    "Doesn''t it seem like everyone''s wilder now?" David asked, walking beside me as we watched a senior shove a smaller kid headfirst into a trash can.

    "I''ve never seen this happen in the middle of the hallway," Georgie said, scared, as he watched another small kid being forced into a locker further down the main hallway.

    What was going on?

    Sheldon quickly arrived at my side, visibly relieved to see us on our way out. "PJ, could you walk me to the school bus?" my little friend, out of breath, apparently from running a few steps, asked. "Someone was dunking another kid''s head in the toilet. I had to run to avoid being next," Sheldon explained.

    "Of course, little buddy," I replied, placing my hands on his shoulders and guiding him ahead of me. The once chaotic school was now much worse.

    Was this because Alan wasn''t around anymore?

    Luckily, it was Friday. Whatever was happening at school would have to wait until Monday.

    On Sunday, while Gabe and I were watching cartoons, as had become our Sunday routine, there was a knock on the door.

    "Your turn," Gabe immediately called out without taking his eyes off the TV.

    "Ha! ''My turn,''" I exaggeratedly laughed, pushing Gabe off the couch. "Until the day I can''t make you get off the couch with just one finger, you''re doing all the boring stuff, like answering the door," I teased, stopping Gabe from sitting back down, amused by the desperate look on his face.

    Our game must have gone on long enough for Bob, who was fixing the sink in the kitchen, to come out. "You guys still haven''t opened the door?" he asked, walking toward it.

    "Gabe was about to," I quickly said, smiling maliciously at my brother before letting him sit down again.

    "Herschel, good morning," Bob said, opening the door and greeting Mr. Sparks.

    "Good morning, Bob. Have you seen a dog? Brown, about this tall," moving his hand along his leg Mr. Sparks asked.

    "No, I don''t think so," Bob replied, looking over at Gabe and me comfortably on the couch. "Did you guys get a dog?" he asked.

    "It was my brother''s," Mr. Sparks explained.

    "Did he pass away?" Bob asked, much more serious now, nervous that he might''ve touched on a sensitive subject.

    "Oh no, he just couldn''t bring it with him. You know, he entered the ''gated community,''" Mr. Sparks said, implying prison.

    "Oh," Bob responded, understanding immediately and looking a little embarrassed. "Tell you what, let me help you track it down. I do it all the time with rodents and insects. How hard could it be to track a medium-sized dog?" he said, clapping his hands together eagerly.

    Bob and Mr. Sparks went out to search for the dog, and, as promised, Bob quickly found it in the Coopers'' garage. The dog''s mere presence was terrifying Sheldon, who had climbed up some shelves¡ªan athletic feat I was sure Sheldon would never have managed without the dog''s motivation.

    Using the dog situation as an excuse, Bob, Mr. Sparks, and Mr. Cooper settled in to drink comfortably in the Coopers'' backyard.

    Monday came, and everything at school seemed normal. Classes passed, and lunchtime arrived.

    Again, like last Friday, as we walked through the main hallway, we saw how openly older students were bullying the younger ones. It was as if they were finally free and didn''t know how to control it.

    Inside the cafeteria, it was more of the same¡ªlunches being stolen, kids being stuffed into trash cans, falls, and clothes stained with food. Fortunately, Tam and Sheldon always ate their lunch in the library, or I was sure they would have been the target of some similar ''prank.''

    "Why aren''t the teachers doing anything?" David asked nervously, watching as more people joined in the bullying.

    "My dad told us at dinner on Friday that detention was full by the end of the day," Georgie said, nervously.

    "They won''t be picking on the younger kids for long. Soon, they''ll come for us," David muttered, lowering his head as a group of seniors passed by our table. "What are we going to do then?" he asked.

    As if his question had been a cue, the cafeteria doors suddenly burst open, and a naked body was thrown through them. "Brock," I murmured, both shocked and worried.

    The laughter started softly at first, but within seconds it became deafening in the cafeteria.

    I stood up as quickly as I could, pausing for just a second to grab a jacket from a random student at another table. I ran over to my naked friend, handing him the ''borrowed'' garment I had managed to grab.

    Taking the jacket from my hand without even glancing at me, Brock, obviously embarrassed, covered himself and ran out of sight, away from the laughter.

    "Just like a pig, run Porker, run!" Michael Johnson and David Smith shouted from the cafeteria doors, mimicking pig sounds and laughing with what obviously were Brock''s clothes in their hands.

    I didn''t know how, but my legs carried me toward those two idiots on their own. There were two of them, so I had to make this fair.

    Thanks to Alan, I knew David Smith trained in boxing, so it would be better to face him alone.

    "Wha¡ª" Michael Johnson began, startled to see me suddenly at his side, but he was interrupted by my fist landing squarely on his face. His head hit the cafeteria door, and ''idiot one'' crumpled to the ground after a quick succession of punches, apparently crying once he was down.

    When I turned around, David Smith, to his credit, was already in his boxing stance, ready to fight.

    I noticed the cafeteria had gone completely silent the laughter replaced by chants of "Fight! Fight!"

    "Nice punch, loser. I''ve been waiting for this," Smith said with an ugly wide smile, keeping his guard up.

    "So have I," I muttered, stepping toward the idiot.

    During the days after the gym opened, Case had explained to me why boxing wasn''t great for self-defense. It''s a great sport for learning how to punch, sure, but beyond that, if you faced someone who trained in any other martial art, you were at a disadvantage.

    As Case had shown me, despite Smith''s good boxing stance, his legs were always exposed.

    Dodging his jabs, I feinted a punch to his face, getting him to raise his already high guard.

    Quickly, I kicked the inside of his leg, forcing him to drop his guard and leaving him open for a solid punch.

    Unlike my ''fight'' with Alan a few days ago, hitting Smith was as easy as hitting a punching bag.

    One more kick to his side, along with a few punches, was enough to make Smith, blinded by adrenaline and anger, charge at me, forgetting everything he knew about boxing.

    I had practiced this move so many times with Tim and Case that it was ingrained in my mind. As soon as "idiot two" got close enough, I adjusted my stance and torso, dodging his first punch and using his momentum to lift him. In one fluid motion, careful not to hurt my back, I slammed him to the ground and immediately mounted him, punching his face repeatedly.

    I lost track of time, pounding the face of "idiot two." I was tired of not being able to help my friends¡ªAlan, and now Brock. They had humiliated him in front of the entire school, and it was partly my fault for letting it happen. Over and over again, I could feel the burning in my hands, until suddenly, someone pulled me up with great force.

    "That''s enough, son. Stop, it''s over," Coach Cooper said, lifting me by the waist as if it were no problem. "It''s okay," he repeated as he pulled me out of the cafeteria.

    As I was being dragged away, I saw how the previously entertained crowd had fallen silent, staring at Smith on the floor, possibly with a broken nose, while Johnson continued to cry, despite getting off easier.

    I could feel tears running down my face, purely from frustration and anger.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 74

    Note:

    My exams are almost over, meanwhile, here''s a short chapter.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Carefully sitting down on the floor, Coach Cooper kept his hand on my shoulder, examining my face and hands before nodding slightly. "Stay here, I''m going to check on them," he said, motioning towards the cafeteria. He nodded once more before quickly running back to the place we had just come from.

    Surprisingly, alone on the school hallway floor, I managed to calm my mind enough to check my hands, inspecting each finger and knuckle. Fortunately, none were broken. Only my skin had suffered, and I was sure I''d need a cold compress to avoid swelling.

    Clenching my fists tightly, feeling the pain, I also closed my eyes. With deep breaths, I tried to relax my mind and slow the pounding of my heart. I still had a lot of adrenaline in my system.

    "It''s time, son. Let''s get moving," after what felt like I don''t know how long, Coach Cooper said seriously as he came up beside me.

    "Yeah, sure," I replied nervously, carefully standing up. "What''s going to happen now?" I asked as we walked, lowering my head slightly. I had never really been in trouble before, much less in a fight, so I had no idea what to expect.

    "I don''t know, son," Coach Cooper answered seriously, bowing his head with concern. I panicked immediately, trying to remember the end of the fight. I couldn''t recall seeing any signs of brain damage, but again, with so much adrenaline in my system, I really couldn''t be sure.

    "Did Smith, uhm¡ª" I tried to ask nervously.

    "Oh no, he''s¡ª they''re... fine," Coach Cooper interrupted quickly, realizing how ominous his response sounded. "As fine as they can be after what you did, I mean. Johnson was just there, still crying," he added, strangely proud and amused. A moment later, realizing his position and how he should behave, he quickly changed his expression to something more serious.

    "What about Brock?" I asked, relieved that I hadn''t committed manslaughter, but remembering the reason behind the whole incident. I asked about my friend.

    "He''s locked in the locker room. Coach Wilkins is watching over him right now, waiting for his parents to arrive," Coach Cooper answered, sounding somewhat disappointed. "Listen, son, I really shouldn''t be telling you this¡ªI don''t know the whole story¡ªbut I know you, and I want you to know I''m in your corner, all right?" He murmured while patting my shoulder, making sure no one was close enough to hear.

    "Yeah, thanks," I replied, not really sure what else to say.

    Nodding with some apprehension, Coach Cooper patted my shoulder one more time before opening the door to the school administration office. "Wait here," he added, pointing to a chair in front of the secretary''s desk before heading into what I assumed was Principal Petersen''s office.

    I nodded to Coach and took a seat, receiving a small smile from the secretary. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, noticing my hands.

    "Yeah," I replied, clenching my fists again.

    A little while later, Coach Cooper came out of the office, nodding at me slightly before leaving.

    "He''s ready for you, honey," a few minutes after Coach Cooper had left, the secretary said sweetly.

    "Thanks," I muttered, walking into the office.

    "PJ, please close the door," Principal Petersen said seriously as soon as he saw me, seated behind his desk.

    After closing the door, the man calmly gestured to one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. "So¡­" Principal Petersen began slowly, clasping his hands in front of his face, apparently trying to figure out what to say.

    His hesitation made me even more nervous. I realized I didn''t like waiting for¡­ punishment? Especially when I didn''t regret anything I had done.

    "I don''t know what to do, son," Principal Petersen finally said, throwing his hands up in frustration and shifting in his chair. "You''re one of my best students," he continued, rubbing his head in exasperation. "You''re like Cooper, but less¡­ you know, Cooper."

    "Wha¡ª" I began, not really understanding what was going on.

    "I mean, great academic performance, all your teachers adore you, hell, there''s an article about your medical achievements even though you''re just a freshman in high school, and most importantly, you''re a great athlete! You could win us the nationals!" Principal Petersen declared, throwing his hands up. "And now I''m supposed to punish you? For what? Defending one of your friends," he added, lowering his head. "Everyone knows Smith and Johnson are trouble," he explained, "but don''t tell anyone I said that," he quickly added, trying to recover his serious tone.

    I didn''t know what to expect in my first trip to the principal''s office, but what was happening now was definitely not what I had imagined.

    "And people say their jobs are tough¡­ This, this is hard," Principal Petersen exclaimed after a moment, rubbing his chin as he leaned on his desk. "Tell me, son, what am I supposed to do? If I don''t do anything, the school could be sued," he added nervously.

    "Detention?" I suggested uncertainly. "Maybe community service. I can always help the nurse," I added, seeing Principal Petersen nodding.

    "Yeah, yeah, great. Maybe three¡ªno! Two weeks of detention and community service," he said quickly, pointing at me, grateful. "Perfect!" He clapped his hands, standing up. "But I still need to talk to your parents, the Kingmans, and also the Smiths and the Johnsons," he added tiredly, rubbing his face with his hands. "Just wait outside and please don''t fight anyone, at least for a couple of days."

    "Sure," I replied, still unsure how to react to the situation. Slowly, I stood up and walked out of the office. I was pretty sure this wasn''t how things were supposed to go, but I wasn''t about to complain.

    Quietly nodding once again to the secretary, I took a seat in one of the empty chairs and watched as she smiled kindly before continuing her work.

    Lost in thought, staring at my shoes to kill time, I waited. At some point, someone brought my backpack, and I didn''t even notice. Time passed until finally, from the school''s main hallway, a woman, accompanied by Mr. Kingman, entered the room. Both looked completely serious, if not furious. The woman ignored the secretary entirely, walking straight to Principal Petersen''s office, not without glancing at me for just a fraction of a second.

    I was embarrassed to even face the woman. I hadn''t done anything to end up in this situation, but¡­ I hadn''t done enough either.

    Mr. Kingman, clearly recognizing me and noticing my still bruised and bloody knuckles, gave me a barely perceptible nod before following what I was sure was his wife into the office.

    The door that separated the three adults from the secretary and me slammed shut, and a moment later, muffled angry shouts filled the room, breaking the previous silence. With a long sigh, the secretary continued her work, turning on a small portable radio on her desk to drown out any noise from the office with music, apparently accustomed to this kind of scene.

    Not long after, just minutes later, the office door opened once again. Mrs. Kingman was the first to come out, still frowning, her gaze focused entirely on me. She began to walk slowly towards me.

    Nervous, having already witnessed the woman''s fury, I stood up slowly, unsure of what to say or do.

    "Fighting is wrong," the woman said angrily as she got close enough, "but thanks, really, thank you for being Joey''s friend," she added, suddenly pulling me into a tight hug.

    "No, don''t, I¡ª" I tried to say, embarrassed after overcoming the shock of Mrs. Kingman''s sudden action. I hadn''t been the best of friends; I hadn''t helped as much as I should have, at least not in time.

    "Please, PJ, don''t abandon Joe. I know things have been tough lately, and now I understand why," she said, ironically, ignoring anything I wanted to say as she let go of the hug. "But I know you''re his friend, a real one, so please, don''t give up on him," she added, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

    "I wasn''t planning to," I mumbled, still embarrassed by my lack of action over the past few days.

    "Thank you," she said sweetly, smiling. "And do not fight. That''s stupid," she warned, frowning again before walking back to Mr. Kingman, who, just like before entering the office, simply nodded at me with a smile before leaving with his wife.

    Shortly after, my parents arrived, and after a brief conversation with Principal Petersen, they came out of the office and sat next to me in the empty chairs. "I¡ª" I tried to say, only to be silenced by a wave of my mother''s hand.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    "Don''t," she ordered, without even looking at me, resting her hand on her visibly pregnant belly, clearly furious.

    Bob, sitting next to her, winked at me, smiling slightly, silently reassuring me, though the moment he noticed the smallest movement from Mom, he changed his attitude, putting on a completely serious mask, imitating Mom''s expression, and definitely not reassuring.

    In complete silence, since even the academic secretary seemed too uncomfortable

    to try to talk, we waited in the chairs.

    "At least go clean your hands," after a while, Mom finally said suddenly.

    I hadn''t really paid attention, but Mom was right. With both my own blood from the cuts on my knuckles and Smith''s blood, my hands were completely dirty.

    Without saying anything, I left the room and headed to the nearest bathroom. Luckily, lunch had ended a few minutes ago, and classes had resumed, leaving the hallway practically empty.

    As I opened the door to the nearest bathroom, the smell of cigarettes immediately hit me. I absolutely hated the smell.

    Three other students were inside the bathroom. When they heard the door, they quickly hid their cigarettes, as if that could get rid of the awful odor. Realizing I wasn''t a teacher, they quickly relaxed.

    Ignoring them, I approached the sink and started washing my hands, watching as the blood washed away. From my peripheral vision, I noticed the other students walking near me, surprising me.

    "Whoa, calm down," one of the three said, raising his hand when I turned around quickly, stepping back with his two friends.

    "We''re just going out," another one of them said, pointing to the bathroom door. "We don''t want any trouble."

    "Wha¡ª yeah, sure, get out," I said incredulously, noticing the fear on their faces.

    I wasn''t crazy, I wasn''t about to start hitting people just because.

    With my hands clean, now visibly red, I could see they were starting to swell. I needed a cold compress and some anti-inflammatories.

    When I returned to the administration office, my parents were no longer there, but I could still hear them¡ªat least, I could hear Mom.

    Even though the secretary had the music turned up, apparently at full volume, I could still hear my mother''s angry shouts coming from inside the room. Another woman''s voice was shouting alongside her, clearly arguing.

    Silently, with her eyes wide open staring at me, the secretary slowly shook her head. Grateful to the woman, I silently took a seat, terrified at the thought that either of the two loud women could ''sense'' my presence.

    Surprisingly, the shouting continued for minutes. It was impressive how many insults, one after the other, the two women could throw at each other, even knowing that many.

    Suddenly, the shouting stopped, and the door was slammed open. Mom, along with Bob, followed by another couple of adults and another man, walked out of Principal Petersen''s office.

    "We''re leaving," avoiding looking at me, Mom furiously ordered, while Bob, behind her, silently begged me to quickly get to my feet.

    "Is this the delinquent who attacked my baby?" the other woman present, still shouting without apparent irritation in her voice, asked.

    "Baby?" I asked, incredulous and slightly amused, making the woman, noticing my smile, huff in utter annoyance.

    "Honey, please don''t start again," the man accompanying the woman practically begged.

    "John, shut up," the woman ordered, raising her hand without looking at the man, making him step back in fear. For a second, I noticed him wiping away a tear before it could escape his eye.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I assume," I muttered, also noticing the other man present, who seemed completely disinterested and disgusted, but strangely, unlike the other couple, not angry with me. Despite having a bulging abdomen, the man looked like he had trained enough to still appear muscular. Knowing what Alan had told me, it was obvious this was Mr. Smith, a former professional boxer.

    "Don''t talk to my son, you bitch," Mom suddenly snapped, brusquely pulling me by the shoulder, guiding me forcefully out of the room, ignoring Mrs. Johnson''s shouts behind us.

    "What happ¡ª" Once Mom released my arm, I tried to ask, but with a nervous and quick glance, Bob silenced me.

    "Give me your keys," Mom suddenly said as we were about to leave the school.

    "Wha¡ª" I tried to say, incredulous once again.

    "Keys," Mom ordered sternly, extending her hand.

    Silently, Bob once again begged me to follow her orders, which I reluctantly did.

    "Go with your father," once outside the school, separating from us on the way to my car, Mom ordered.

    "What happened?" Once Mom was far enough away, I asked Bob.

    "Shh, she might still hear us," Bob said worriedly, walking faster to his awful truck. "First, I want you to know I''m with your mother. Violence should never be the solution to any conflict," Bob said as we reached his truck and got inside. "But that aside, I''m incredibly proud of you," he added, quickly scanning for any sign of my mom. "Defending someone, even if it''s a friend, is one of the noblest acts there is," Bob continued, smiling proudly as he saw Mom driving away from the parking lot in my car.

    It hadn''t been noble at all.

    "Your mother''s very upset, but Principal Petersen explained the situation, so you just have to wait for her to calm down," Bob said calmly, watching my car leave the parking lot. "Apparently, by kicking those two''s asses, you did something everyone wanted, because George told the principal that many students were talking in your favor. Obviously, everyone saw what they did to poor Brock," he continued.

    "Yeah, that doesn''t help Brock at all," I said ironically, upset with myself.

    "Maybe the fight doesn''t help him, but the reason behind it does," Bob said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You did it because he''s your friend, and that''s all he needs to get through this," he added. "Two against one, and one of them ended up on the ground crying," Bob said, pausing for a moment before bursting into sudden laughter. "Come on, tell me how it happened."

    On the way home, I told Bob what I remembered about the fight, and he seemed increasingly amused by the situation.

    "He just stayed on the ground crying?" Bob asked, now laughing almost hysterically.

    "Yeah," I said, unable to help but laugh along with him. "Then Coach Cooper picked me up off the floor and took me out of the cafeteria," I finished my story, making Bob nod.

    "I''m going to buy him a beer," Bob declared seriously, though maintaining a small smile. "You know, thanks to him explaining everything to Principal Petersen, your punishment was just detention and service. That''s what started the fight," Bob suddenly remembered. "You should''ve seen your mother, holding her belly while pointing and shouting at the other woman. If a fight had broken out, your mom would''ve won in a heartbeat."

    "I believe it. I didn''t need to see it to know what was going on in there," I said sarcastically, recalling the shouting. "I just hope it''s over by the time we get home," I added nervously.

    Bob snorted loudly, trying to hold back a laugh. "Oh, son, I''m sorry, but that''s not going to happen. I know your mother, and you''re in for possibly even worse shouting when we get home," he added.

    Bob''s words only managed to make my nerves come back. I definitely didn''t like knowing someone could punish me.

    When we got home, ''Debbie'' was parked in the driveway. Taking several deep breaths, I gathered enough courage to open the door.

    Mom was waiting, sitting on one of the living room couches. The moment she saw me, she frowned, standing up slowly, pressing her lips together, ready to start yelling¡ªand suddenly, she began.

    To cry.

    "I was so worried when they called the house," Mom said through tears, holding her abdomen, sounding completely devastated. "My PJ, in a fight, it was urgent," she continued, sobbing.

    Not knowing what to do, I looked to Bob for help, but unfortunately, he seemed more surprised than I was. So much for knowing Mom. This was way worse than getting yelled at.

    "Mom, please," I said nervously as I approached her, trying to get her to stop crying.

    "Shut up, you fool!" Mom suddenly shouted, raising her hand despite still crying.

    No, this was definitely worse.

    "I knew it was a bad idea for you to learn how to fight, but I was blinded by your obvious interest. Besides, if you don''t learn to defend yourself, you might get beaten up again," Mom continued, talking more to herself now. "So, I let it slide. Case seems like a great man to learn from, but hitting someone, whether they deserved it or not, until their nose breaks?" Mom asked, shaking her head in disappointment. "You''re never doing that again," she warned me.

    "I can''t promise that," I declared, interrupting whatever else she had to say. "What I''m learning with Case isn''t just to protect myself, it''s to protect those I care about too," I added quickly, nodding toward Bob, who, terrified, ignored me, walking out of the room, mumbling some lame excuse.

    "Then I forbid you from continuing training with Case," Mom said, still frowning as she briefly watched Bob leave the room.

    "That wouldn''t change anything; I''d keep doing it," I declared calmly, making Mom sob sadly once more. "The only difference is, the person with the broken nose might be me," I added, noticing how Mom clenched her fists in defeat.

    Seeing Mom cry over something I did felt completely wrong.

    "I''m sorry, Mom. I got carried away this time. I could''ve seriously hurt Smith. It won''t happen again," I said as I approached her, managing to reach her side, and hugged her. "But if someone attacks me or someone I care about again, I''ll fight back," I declared seriously.

    "Then you''re grounded," Mom said, hugging me tightly. "For a few days, you''ll only go to school and come straight home. No going to the hospital until I sign you up as a volunteer again," she added, making me remember all the sponge baths and grossly long nails. "You can keep going to the gym," she added a moment later.

    "Thanks," I murmured.

    "For what? You''re grounded," Mom harshly reminded me.

    Obviously exhausted from worrying and having cried, Mom called in sick to the hospital, deciding to stay home and rest.

    "Can you pick up your sister? I have to take Gabe to his music lessons," later that day Bob asked as he knocked on my door while I was reading in my room.

    "Sure," I replied, removing the cold compresses from my hands. They were slightly red and swollen, but it seemed I had managed to keep it under control, at least a little.

    The drive to Teddy''s school was relatively short. Upon arriving, dozens of other cars, mostly trucks, were lined up in front of the main building. After several minutes of waiting in line, I finally saw my sister chatting happily with her two friends, and I even spotted Luke, who nervously said goodbye to my sister as he walked past them.

    After a few seconds of Teddy not noticing me in the car line, I decided to have some fun. Cranking up the music volume and rolling down the passenger window, I started honking loudly, shouting my sister''s name.

    Immediately, upon hearing the commotion, her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she turned around.

    "Teddy Duncan, it''s me, your brother PJ, come on!" I shouted, trying to make my voice heard

    over the music, amused, as my sister quickly walked to my car with her friends.

    "Turn it down, everyone''s staring at us!" Teddy said, hurriedly opening the car door and lowering the volume.

    I couldn''t help but laugh. "Hi Baja... Bianca," I greeted Teddy''s friends. When I saw the last one, I immediately lost my smile, once again feeling like a terrible friend. I had completely forgotten about the issue with Kat, focusing instead on Alan and Brock. "How are you guys?" I asked, forcing a weak smile.

    "I''m fine, thanks," Baja, one of Teddy''s friends, replied kindly, while Bianca, Kat''s sister, just forced a smile. I''m sorry, I promise I''ll talk to your sister.

    "See you tomorrow, Teddy," a moment later, Teddy''s friends said goodbye, allowing us to leave the school.

    "Why did you do that?" Teddy asked angrily, hitting my arm once we were far enough from school.

    "It''s my right as your older brother," I said, still amused, trying to cover myself from her hits.

    "Whoa, what happened to your hands?" Teddy suddenly asked, grabbing my free hand to examine it.

    "It''s not important," I replied, pulling my hand from her grip to change gears.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 75

    Upon arriving home, Teddy quickly entered the house, completely ignoring Georgie, who was strangely sitting on the porch.

    "Hey man, what''s up?" I calmly asked as I approached.

    "Your mom told me you went to pick up your sister, so I waited for you out here," Georgie replied, looking uncomfortable.

    "Oh ok, wanna hang out or something?" I asked, checking my watch and thinking about the free time I had before meeting Case. "I don''t think I have permission to go out right now, but I think we''ve got a couple of sodas in the fridge," I added, pointing inside my house.

    "Oh yeah, sure," Georgie responded, sounding impressed for some reason.

    "Great," I continued, studying his slightly uncomfortable expression. "Are we cool?" I asked, confused. He wasn''t scared I was going to hit him, right? Or worse, had his mother already found out about the fight and reacted the way Mrs. Cooper would?

    "Wha- oh yeah, of course," Georgie quickly replied, though he didn¡¯t seem very sure of his answer. "It''s just that..." he trailed off, struggling to continue his thoughts. "I''m sorry, everything happened so fast, and by the time we could get there, the crowd had already formed," he finally said.

    "What?" I asked, amused, now understanding the situation.

    "Yeah well, Brock came in, and you were pretty fast, and before anyone could react, you had already knocked Johnson to the ground," Georgie explained, exhaling as he recalled the older student on the floor. "Then everyone stood up and ran to where you were fighting Smith."

    "It''s fine, Georgie, don''t worry about it," I quickly said, incredulous that my friend was worried about not having ''helped'' me. "I don''t mind at all. I wasn''t even planning it; I completely got carried away in the moment," I assured him.

    "Good, maybe next time you plan on doing something like that, give us a heads up, so we can distract them while you kick their asses," Georgie said, much more relaxed, joking around.

    "Sure, I''ll make sure to let you guys know next time," I said sarcastically, playfully shoving my friend.

    "So, did they expel you or something?" Georgie asked as we entered the house to grab the sodas, prompting me to tell him everything that had happened after his dad had dragged me out of the cafeteria.

    Later, Georgie went home, and I left for the gym. It was time for training with Case.

    The gym was pretty packed with people training at their own pace. Case and Tim, the ones in charge of giving instructions, were making their rounds when they saw me walk in.

    "Hey, what''s up?" I greeted them as I dropped my things in a small area behind the front counter.

    "All good, there are three new clients," Tim said with a friendly smile.

    "Did you write them in the logbook?" I asked, grabbing the register.

    "Yeah, you guys start in five," Case, who was explaining foot positioning to one of the clients, said sternly. "Are they broken?" he asked, quickly inspecting my hands without changing his expression at all.

    "No," I replied.

    "Good. Explain how the fight went," he nodded, harshly ordering me as he caught Tim''s attention, who seemed unaware of my hands.

    Without going into too much detail, I carefully explained to Case and Tim how I remembered the fight.

    "So, with just over three months, you felt brave enough to fight two-on-one?" Case asked, crossing his arms and shaking his head in disbelief.

    "I wasn''t thinking straight; I was angry," I admitted, immediately regretting my choice of excuse as Case shook his head again and walked to the other side of the gym, stopping to help whoever he thought needed it.

    "Poor choice of words," Tim said sarcastically, patting my shoulder. "Good luck."

    Yeah, I know.

    "We''re doing sparring," Case said once we were ready, throwing Tim and me training gear¡ªgloves and padded headgear. "Only striking," he continued, clearing a small padded area of the gym.

    During the time I¡¯ve trained with Case, we¡¯ve done several sparring sessions of different types. Usually, it was more common to do it on the ground, but once in a while, there were standing training sessions.

    "Kicks and takedowns allowed, no more than five seconds of grappling," Case explained the rules, drawing the attention of the others in the gym. Sparring wasn¡¯t yet common at the gym, and it attracted attention since it was the closest thing to a live fight.

    "Try not to overdo it with the low kicks," Tim said with a grin as he put on his headgear. In the relatively few striking sparring sessions Tim and I had, I took full advantage of his massive build, which made him slower and more prone to low kicks.

    "I can¡¯t promise anything," I said with a smile as I put on my headgear.

    "Oh yes, you can," Case suddenly said with a malicious grin. "Don¡¯t worry about punches or kicks, Tim. PJ¡¯s only going to defend," he declared, crossing his arms.

    "What?" I asked incredulously.

    "Oh yeah," Tim said, clearly excited and mocking me.

    "Don¡¯t joke, Case," I practically begged, ignoring Tim''s creepy smile. "How is that fair?" I asked.

    "Life isn¡¯t fair," Case declared with a smile. "If I were you, I''d strap that headgear on tight," he added as he walked away from the ''ring.''

    "Tim, brother, have mercy," I said quickly, tightening my headgear and smiling nervously at my muscular friend.

    "I can¡¯t promise anything," Tim replied, mocking me as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to turn me into his human punching bag.

    "Go on," Case ordered with a loud clap, making Tim immediately advance, raising his guard despite knowing he wouldn¡¯t be getting hit.

    Since Tim was much bigger than me, he was fortunately also relatively slower, which allowed me to dodge the few punches I could. The rest I had to absorb with my guard or try to deflect, but unfortunately, we didn¡¯t have infinite space.

    "I thought you¡¯d understood by now¡ªan angry mind is a narrow mind," Case said forcefully from the sidelines. "I don¡¯t say things just for you to ignore them. That¡¯s not how this works. I train you to be the best. If you go into a fight angry, no matter the outcome, you¡¯ve already lost."

    "I understand, I¡¯m sorry," I said, as I took another punch from Tim, trying with all my strength to distance myself from my gigantic friend.

    "No, you don¡¯t. You think there are no consequences because you beat two untrained teenagers and won?" Case asked, annoyed. "Do you think you''re strong?" he asked again. "You''re not," Case declared.

    Listening to Case¡¯s words while Tim continued his surprisingly steady assault on me began to annoy me slightly.

    "I was defending a friend," I said angrily, dodging a jab from Tim.

    "Congratulations, you¡¯re a real hero," Case said, clapping with dripping sarcasm. "I don¡¯t care," he continued seriously, stopping his fake applause. "I train you expecting a certain level of fighter from you, and in your first real fight after being trained by me, you go and ruin it like that. It¡¯s embarrassing."

    "What?" I asked angrily. "I won," I declared, frustrated, looking at Case and losing sight of Tim, who took advantage and swept my legs, pushing me to the ground and mounting me, just like I had done with Smith in the cafeteria.

    "No, you didn¡¯t," Case said as Tim sat on my torso, pounding my arms, which were covering my head and face. "In a fight, victory belongs to the one who keeps their mind clear and their focus on strategy, not to the one who gets carried away by anger or frustration," he said, motioning for Tim to stop. "Therefore, that fight¡ªyou lost."

    "Sorry," I said, embarrassed, with Tim still on top of me, prompting Case to nod.

    "Continue with a normal sparring session, five minutes, three rounds," Case said sternly, walking back among the other people in the gym.

    Tim, seeing that Case had finished his lecture, got off me and offered his hand to help me up. "I was just starting to have fun," Tim joked, sensing that the atmosphere was slightly tense.

    "I¡¯m going to give you so many low kicks you won¡¯t feel your legs tomorrow," I said, pretending to be angry as I accepted Tim¡¯s hand.

    After the training and checking the logbook and the money in the register one last time, I went home.

    "Wow, what happened to your hands?" Gabe asked during dinner, eyeing the color of my skin.

    "Your brother was in a fight," Mom, clearly upset by the reminder, said, pressing down hard on her salad.

    "Bianca told me. It was against two guys," Teddy said immediately after Mom, clearly eager to share what she knew, probably from talking on the phone with her friends.

    I didn¡¯t remember seeing Kat in the cafeteria, but knowing how gossip spreads in school, it was silly to think she hadn¡¯t heard about it from someone else.

    "Cool, did you win?" Gabe asked, leaning closer to inspect my hands, apparently studying the skin on my knuckles.

    "It¡¯s not ''cool.'' It¡¯s stupid and unacceptable," Mom said furiously, quickly nudging Bob to support her.

    "Yeah, violence shouldn¡¯t be an option," Bob quickly agreed, looking back at Mom with hopeful eyes, definitely not being forced to say it.

    "Bianca heard that the fight was because some older guys were bullying Brock," Teddy added

    quickly again.

    "They were bullying Brock?" Gabe asked incredulously. "But he¡¯s huge. How did you beat someone who could take on Brock?" he asked me.

    "Bianca said you left one of them crying and the other with a broken nose," Teddy added once more before anyone else could say anything.

    "How did you do it?" Gabe asked excitedly, hearing Teddy¡¯s words.

    Mom slammed her hand on the table, interrupting anything anyone else might have said. "We¡¯re not going to talk about fights at the table," she declared forcefully. "Or anywhere else in the house, at least not in front of me," she added, calming down slightly. "If I hear one more word about it, you¡¯re all grounded," she warned, pointing her finger at the rest of us, even Bob.

    Having said her piece, Mom continued eating her food, clearly upset, muttering things to herself.

    In silence, I looked over at my brother and discreetly winked, making Gabe smile immediately, understanding. I¡¯ll tell him later.

    The next day, a little later than usual, at school, as soon as I stepped out of my car, I found myself facing my natural enemy at school¡ªwhispers and people staring at me like I was an animal in a zoo.

    I knew it would happen; I was already used to it, but the annoying feeling of being watched and talked about as if they didn¡¯t care that I could see them doing it was still there.

    As I entered the school, the already crowded hallways around me immediately quieted for a brief second, with some people, surprised, staring at me as I walked in.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    While walking, trying to ignore the murmurs and eyes glued to me, I noticed how some people stepped away, seemingly afraid of me, just like the three students in the bathroom the day before.

    "Hey, do people really think I¡¯m going to attack them for no reason?" I asked, greeting David and Georgie, who were already at their lockers next to mine.

    "Hey, I think they do, yeah," Georgie said, glancing at the people around us.

    "I hope it ends quickly. I have a reputation to uphold," I joked, pretending to be concerned, making Georgie look at me weirdly.

    Alan would have enjoyed that joke.

    "You okay, man? You¡¯re pale," I asked, ignoring Georgie and looking at David, who was standing there with his mouth open, staring at me. "Oh, please tell me you¡¯re not scared too. I¡¯m not crazy," I said, exasperated.

    "Wha- of course not," my friend said, surprised, sighing as he hid his nerves. "Why would I be scared of you?" he asked sarcastically in a sharp tone of voice.

    "That''s what I''m asking," I said, laughing as I opened my locker.

    "So, do they think Brock will come to school at some point?" Georgie asked, losing his smile for a moment.

    I didn''t know the answer to that question. I don''t think anyone besides Brock knew the answer. The humiliation he went through was something I couldn''t imagine how it felt.

    "I wouldn''t," David replied, much more serious than I had ever seen him before. "That was pretty brutal. I would never recover from it, but Brock is way cooler than me," he continued, slightly lowering his head. "Don''t say I didn''t," my friend quickly recognized what he had just said and nervously lifted his head.

    "Don''t worry, man. Your secret is safe with me," I assured him, playfully patting David''s shoulder.

    "And with me," Georgie added, raising his eyebrows maliciously.

    After that, they started a discussion in which I found myself forcibly involved about a beauty contest between two actresses.

    "Good morning, PJ," Sheldon suddenly said formally from the hallway.

    "Hey Sheldon, good morning," I said, smiling at my little friend and ignoring Georgie, who, as always when his brother arrived to enjoy his ''escort,'' complained.

    "Can I ask for some advice?" When the boy was well shielded from the people passing by the hallway, who were unaware of his presence as they were more interested in looking at me incredulously, Sheldon, keeping his suitcase close to his body, asked seriously.

    "Of course you can," I immediately responded, surprised.

    "I would like to overcome my cynophobia, so I wanted to ask someone with medical knowledge for their recommendation," Sheldon calmly said, making David and Georgie frown, surely not understanding the term ''cynophobia.''

    Amused by the expression on my friends'' faces, I was about to sarcastically thank Sheldon for considering me someone worthy for that task.

    "And you''re the best I have available for free," Sheldon added, raising his shoulders with a bit of disappointment before I could say anything.

    Of course.

    "Cynophobia, huh," deciding to ignore the somewhat hurtful comment from the boy, I murmured, "does this have anything to do with the Sparks'' new dog?" I asked, slightly smiling at my little friend.

    "It''s totally related," the boy replied. "My fear of dogs has caused some problems in my family," he declared seriously.

    "Some problems?" Georgie asked sarcastically, interrupting anything else Sheldon wanted to say. "Meemaw fought with Mrs. Sparks yesterday. She has a black eye and everything," he said, moving his hand in front of his own funny face.

    "Yeah, like I said, problems," Sheldon said, annoyed at being interrupted.

    In disbelief, imagining the older woman having a fight with the other woman, I could only shake my head in amusement. "So you want to overcome your fears to avoid causing more problems for your family?" I asked, surprised by the boy''s uncharacteristic act.

    "Yes, I know. I''m very considerate," Sheldon declared, proudly puffing out his chest.

    "Of course you are," I said sarcastically, smiling at the boy.

    "So, do you have any recommendations for me?" the boy asked seriously, returning to the topic.

    "There are essentially two options, like with any other fear," I nodded seriously. "Option one, gradual exposure. You do small, increasingly ''risky'' things to overcome your fear," I continued. "First, you can study everything you want about dogs in books, then watch a movie, for example," I explained, watching as the boy nodded seriously, listening to my words.

    "What about option two?" Sheldon asked, interested.

    "Option two is to close your eyes and hope for the best, as they usually say, a ''leap of faith,''" I said. "Forcing yourself to interact with the dog and hoping for the best."

    With one hand on his chin, Sheldon seemed to be weighing the two options in his head. "I think for now I''ll try gradual exposure," he finally said a couple of seconds later.

    "Good, come on, let''s go to class," I said, patting the boy''s shoulder.

    "It seems my intelligence is finally giving me the respect I deserve. They''re making way for me," Sheldon said proudly as we walked to the first-period classroom, noticing the behavior of the students around him.

    "Seems like it," I nodded, amused, agreeing with the boy.

    The day at school continued relatively normally. During classes, although I could occasionally notice the concerned looks from the teachers glued to me, they didn''t ignore my raised hand during the ''competitions'' with Sheldon. They talked to me normally and smiled when I answered a question.

    My classmates, on the other hand, seemed genuinely intimidated. So much so that the usual time I spent helping anyone who asked in classes like math or science had been reduced to only my friends asking for help. I didn''t really mind too much. Helping someone with a math problem was no issue, but it wasn''t something I looked forward to all day.

    Additionally, having more free time during each class, after finishing the work left by the teacher, allowed me to copy my notes onto other clean sheets.

    "You can do whatever you want now. Everyone knows what you can do and they''re scared," David said excitedly as we walked to the cafeteria during lunch, apparently having finally noticed the strange behavior of people around me at school.

    "We could use the smoking bathroom whenever we want," Georgie said excitedly, understanding David.

    "Get to the front of the cafeteria line immediately," David proposed.

    "We could talk to any girl without fearing their boyfriends," Georgie exclaimed, pointing at David and reaching an exciting realization. Unbeknownst to him, he was attracting the attention of people around him, earning unpleasant looks.

    "Why does it seem like everything you listed works more for you than for me?" I asked sarcastically, making my two friends lose their excited smiles.

    "That doesn''t matter right now. The important thing is that you can do whatever you want now that everyone is scared of you," David said nervously, lowering his voice.

    "Yeah, I can do whatever I want," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "But that doesn''t mean I''m going to do it. Everything you guys said, except the bathrooms, sounds like something a bully would do, and I''m not a bully," I added, pointing at a bigger guy putting a kid into a trash can.

    "So much power, wasted," David said sadly, raising his hands and looking at the school ceiling.

    "Sorry," I said playfully to my friend. I wouldn''t abuse my ''power,'' at least not to bother someone. "Hey!" I exclaimed, calling the attention of the funny guy next to the trash can. "Leave him alone," I ordered seriously, causing a small crowd to slowly form around us, apparently interested in watching another fight.

    Noticing a wall of people forming around him, the guy nervously raised his hands, nodding.

    "Get him out of the trash can, idiot," I said, seeing that the guy was just planning to leave as quickly as possible, rubbing my forehead.

    "Yes, sorry," the guy quickly said, forcefully lifting the kid by his legs and carefully setting him on the ground.

    "Thanks," the kid said, shaking his clothes before quickly running away, looking at me puzzled.

    "If you try to put someone else in any trash can, I''ll make sure to do the same to you," I seriously warned, pointing at the guy''s nervously moving foot. "Go on," I ordered, moving my hand and making the guy, like the kid, quickly leave the place.

    Patting my friends'' shoulders, I continued walking to the cafeteria, completely ignoring the strange looks from people around me.

    "I might use my ''power'' after all," I said to my friends, who had caught up with me a moment later.

    The day continued. During the final period, after ''saving'' a couple more freshmen classmates, I didn''t have to say anything for the bullies to stop their harassment. Just seeing them was enough. The speed at which gossip spreads in school had its advantages after all.

    When the last alarm of the day rang, I was packing my things, ready to go to the hospital, when I suddenly remembered that I had detention.

    Not really knowing what to do, I asked for directions to where detention occurred. Fortunately, Georgie knew the place.

    In an ordinary classroom, completely deserted at that moment except for Mr. Givens, who was reading, oddly unsurprisingly, a comic book. "Take a seat and don''t talk, wha¡ªDuncan, what are you doing here?" the man asked, surprised as he looked up from the comic to see me enter.

    "Detention," I said, leaving my backpack next to one of the chairs, not really knowing how to respond. What was I expecting him to say?

    "Oh yeah, this is strange," he said, opening his eyes as if remembering that I should be there, nodding. "Well, you can do your homework if you want," Mr. Givens said, shrugging his shoulders hesitantly.

    "Oh sure, thanks," I said gratefully. I didn''t know what I was supposed to do; doing homework was much more practical.

    "Yeah," Mr. Givens replied, frowning and tilting his head. "Yes, this is really strange," he murmured before opening his comic book again.

    While I worked on that day''s homework and Mr. Givens read his comic, the classroom was slowly occupied by a couple more people. Most were men, but two girls with heavy black makeup and matching clothing, along with spiked collars, were also there, staring at me intently and occasionally whispering things to each other.

    With their constant strange looks as they chewed gum, I regretted taking the front seat.

    Lowering my head, burying it in my notebook filled with math problems, and trying to ignore the smiles of the two ''dark'' girls, I continued my work when suddenly the door was slammed open, and surprisingly, Kat entered, upset.

    "Take a seat and don''t talk," Mr. Givens said monotonously, as he did every time a new student entered.

    Kat ignored the man and entered the classroom, stopping abruptly when she saw me sitting there. She seemed unable to avoid it and let out a playful sigh before completely changing her expression and walking to the back of the classroom.

    Seeing my friend walk by, completely ignoring me, my gaze met with the two girls who hadn''t taken their eyes off me. They immediately smiled and blew kisses in the air, which was anything but a good feeling.

    Detention continued in relative silence. Ignoring Mr. Givens'' instructions, the other people in detention whispered quietly among themselves. Only Kat and I remained silent, with only me doing my homework.

    In the end, with my homework finished, Mr. Givens checked his watch, closed his comic book with a clap, and said, "You can go," as he quickly left the classroom.

    Being the only one who had done any work, I took longer to leave than my detention classmates.

    "Hey," as I left the classroom, in the middle of the hallway, the two girls with heavy dark makeup were waiting.

    "What''s up," I said, quickening my pace and leaving the place rapidly.

    Outside the school, a few steps from the main door looking out to the street, Kat was standing, apparently waiting.

    "Is your dad going to come?" I asked, stopping beside her. "I can take you home if you want," I added a moment after receiving no response.

    "No," Kat finally replied as she walked down the stairs.

    "No problem," I said, following my friend. "Kat, come on, where are you going?" I asked, watching her start to walk.

    "Home," Kat replied without turning to look at me, not stopping.

    "Just wait," I said, exasperated, running to the parking lot and quickly grabbing ''Debbie'' from her spot.

    I swiftly left the parking lot and reached where Kat was still walking.

    "Come on, Kat, get in. You don¡¯t have to walk," I said, lowering the passenger window. "I¡¯ve got good music, I promise. Someone with way better taste than me picked it," I continued, smiling. "We don¡¯t even have to talk on the way. Just think of me as your chauffeur," I quickly added.

    Kat, who had been shaking her head slightly in annoyance during my little speech, stopped at my last words, lowering her head in exasperation, clenching her fists.

    "Come on, you pick the music," I said, noticing that I was about to convince her, finally making her turn on her heel and open the car door with force.

    "Obviously, I have better taste than you," Kat said arrogantly, opening the glove compartment and sorting through the CDs.

    "Told you," I said with a grin as I drove away from the school.

    During the ride to Kat¡¯s house, apart from the music, nothing could be heard inside the car.

    "Why are you mad at me?" I asked, unable to help myself, breaking my promise. This made Kat groan in frustration as she tried to turn up the volume on the radio. "No," I said, stopping her hand from turning it up. "Let¡¯s talk. I¡¯m tired of my friends not talking to me," I added seriously.

    Sighing, Kat shook her head in exasperation, turning her face toward the car window.

    "There¡¯s nowhere to go. You¡¯re stuck with me, so you might as well talk," I insisted, keeping my eyes on the road.

    Time passed, and I still didn¡¯t get any response from Kat.

    "Come on, talk to me," I said, tired of waiting. "I thought we were friends," I said, trying to appeal to her empathy with exaggerated sadness.

    "Friends," Kat muttered angrily, "just friends," she said, raising her voice in frustration. "And only that, nothing more," she practically shouted at me, clearly furious.

    Oh.

    "I¡¯m sorry, I had no idea¨C" I began to say.

    "Of course you had no idea, you blind idiot," Kat said, hitting my shoulder. "Why would you? We only talked every day, hung out together, and you were funny. How would you have any clue?" she continued, still hitting me. "Even my dad invited you to dinner. For a moment, I thought he knew and was doing it for me, but no, of course not."

    "I¡¯m sorry, please, I¡¯m driving," I pleaded, trying to shield myself from her weak punches while keeping my eyes on the road.

    "Of course you¡¯re sorry, you damn knight in shining armor. Obviously, the great PJ Duncan is a goody two-shoes," Kat said sarcastically, still annoyed, crossing her arms.

    "I am not a goody two-shoes," I replied, feigning offense after she fell silent. "Just so you know, I was involved in a fight," I added, trying to suppress a smile, at least getting Kat to scoff slightly, if only for a moment, before turning back to the window. From the movement of her shoulders, it seemed like she was crying.

    I had no idea what to do. Kat was a great friend, obviously beautiful, but to me, nothing more than a friend.

    "I¡¯m really sorry, Kat," I said, holding my hand in the air, about to pat her shoulder. "I never meant to give you the wrong idea," I continued.

    "I know," Kat murmured, her voice slightly nasal. "It¡¯s my fault for getting my hopes up. You¡¯re nice to everyone," she sighed. "I just thought... I don¡¯t know," she said, shaking her head in disappointment.

    "Kat, you¡¯re beautiful," I said seriously.

    "Shut up. I don¡¯t need your pity," Kat said sarcastically, scoffing.

    "No, I mean it," I replied, glancing at her seriously before quickly returning my attention to the road. "I¡¯m sure I¡¯m not the only one who notices, and I bet you a collection of CDs that someone else will notice soon."

    "Why are you like this?" Kat asked exasperatedly, raising her hands. "Be like any other guy. Just reject me and brag to your friends. Don¡¯t be so nice," she said, punching my shoulder again, annoyed.

    "I would never do that. You¡¯re my friend," I said, once again shielding myself from her disorganized punches.

    "Idiot," Kat said, finally stopping her punches, laughing with some tears in her eyes. Leaning forward, she started looking through the songs until she apparently found the one she was looking for, beginning to sing at the top of her lungs.

    Amused, I followed Kat¡¯s lead, singing the few parts of the song I knew, while just mumbling the rest.

    When we arrived at Kat¡¯s house, there was an awkward moment of silence before my friend gave me a small smile and nodded. "See you tomorrow, goody two-shoes," she said before opening the door and heading toward her house.

    "I¡¯m not a goody two-shoes!" I yelled through the window, laughing as I drove out of her street.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 76

    If you don¡¯t understand how friendship works or the importance of maintaining them, this chapter may seem boring and meaningless to you.

    From the beginning of this novel, I made it clear that the MC is a good person, neutral good, possibly bordering on chaotic good (for those who play DnD). Obviously, he''s not Mother Teresa of Calcutta, but whenever possible, I will do my best to make him a likable character and someone respected by others. He will do good things without expecting anything in return (no, not the "sigma" personality that plagues fanfics lately).

    The MC¡¯s group of friends may not share many things with him, but to me, those are the best friendships. Sure, finding someone who shares your likes and dislikes is great too, but being friends with someone who is different from you in many ways, yet still being great friends, is a wonderful experience.

    If you don¡¯t understand that, I feel sorry for you.

    By the way, I don¡¯t know how "free periods" work in American schools, so I hope we can all just ignore that part of this chapter as something completely possible and not at all far from reality

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Having dropped Kat off at her house, I drove straight to the Kingman house, which, fortunately, wasn''t too far from my friend''s place. Having the notes I¡¯d taken in each class served as the perfect excuse to visit my friend.

    ¡°PJ!¡± Mrs. Kingman exclaimed, pleasantly surprised as she pulled me into a tight hug after I knocked on the door.

    ¡°Mrs. Kingman,¡± I said, slightly embarrassed by her reaction, awkwardly patting her back. ¡°I came to bring Brock today¡¯s homework and my class notes.¡± Once she let me go, I showed her the papers and continued, ¡°Do you think I could go see him?¡± I asked hopefully.

    ¡°Oh, this is very kind of you,¡± she said, taking the papers from my hands and smiling sweetly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, PJ, but I don¡¯t think Joey wants to see anyone right now. I hope you understand,¡± she added, tilting her head sadly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I understand,¡± I replied, quickly reassuring her with a disappointed smile. ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ll come back tomorrow with more notes.¡±

    ¡°Please do,¡± she said gratefully, pressing her lips together, seemingly trying to stop tears from forming in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll let Joey know you came by to visit.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, nodding, as I said goodbye and walked back to my car.

    The day continued and ended normally, and as a few days passed, I kept going to detention every day. After that, I would take Kat home, a trip we used to talk¡ªnot like before, but we were slowly getting there.

    There wasn¡¯t much change with Brock. Each day after dropping off Kat, I would bring him my class notes and homework, hoping my friend would feel better and talk. Unfortunately, all I got from him were the assignments already completed, along with an apology from his mother.

    The only thing that really changed in my routine was the addition of my ''community service'' at school. During most lunch breaks or free periods, I had to go to the infirmary to help the nurse with whatever she needed.

    ¡°Gladis, these medicines are expired,¡± I exclaimed in disbelief during one of the free periods as I was organizing the infirmary drawers, part of my duties. I was increasingly worried as I saw several medications that had expired over a year ago.

    ¡°Oh yeah, I forgot to replace them; they¡¯re in that locker,¡± said Nurse Gladis, an older woman with a strong smell of cigarettes and, oddly, raisins, as she absentmindedly filled out a small Sudoku book.

    ¡°You forgot?¡± I said incredulously, lowering my voice, knowing I¡¯d have to speak much louder for her to hear me.

    It only took stepping into the infirmary on the first day to realize I¡¯d be working hard to fix whatever the nurse hadn¡¯t done. After a few minutes of meeting the elderly woman, I understood that list was much longer than I¡¯d imagined. In no time, I had taken over almost all of her work.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to take a five-minute break,¡± she said, opening one of her desk drawers and pulling out what I was sure was a pack of cigarettes, before leaving the infirmary as fast as her weak knees would allow.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re just going to leave a teenager with the keys to the medicine cabinet completely unsupervised?¡± I muttered to myself, amused, as I reorganized the ¡®new¡¯ boxes of medicine. Judging by the amount of dust inside the locker, I was sure Gladis had forgotten about them long before the old medications expired.

    While I was focused on efficiently organizing the medicines and thinking about labeling them so Gladis wouldn¡¯t confuse them in the future, I heard the door open.

    ¡°That was a quick cigarette,¡± I said again in a normal voice, knowing the woman wouldn¡¯t hear me, turning around expecting to see Gladis.

    ¡°Cigarette?¡± Kat asked, amused, instead, standing there in sportswear with two other girls, one of whom had obviously injured her legs, specifically her knees.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± I quickly responded to Kat. ¡°Come, lie down,¡± I added, ignoring my friend''s smile as I approached to help guide the injured girl to the infirmary bed. ¡°What were you doing?¡± I asked, studying the girl¡¯s injury and hoping Gladis wouldn¡¯t take too long to return, as technically, I wasn¡¯t supposed to treat any of my classmates.

    ¡°We were training,¡± Kat answered, somewhat embarrassed, before the other two girls could respond.

    ¡°Training?¡± I asked, confused. I didn¡¯t remember any other sport at school besides football and cheerleading, and Kat had never mentioned being involved in anything.

    ¡°We¡¯re part of the school¡¯s girls'' soccer team,¡± the other girl accompanying Kat responded energetically, smiling widely at me and fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

    ¡°OK¡­¡± I said slowly, ignoring the growing chills the energetic girl was giving me. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the school had a girls'' soccer team,¡± I admitted, embarrassed, to Kat, who snorted in disbelief.

    ¡°Neither does anyone else. I don¡¯t think even Mr. Lundy knows there¡¯s a team, and he¡¯s the teacher in charge,¡± my friend said sarcastically.

    ¡°Mr. Lundy? The theater teacher?¡± I asked incredulously, both amused and surprised, receiving a disappointed nod from Kat.

    ¡°Mr. Lundy knows about the team. He constantly asks me how training is going,¡± the energetic girl, Lindsey, said, frowning and slightly annoyed at Kat.

    ¡°Oh, please, Lindsey, we don¡¯t even have a full team; we¡¯re ten players,¡± Kat said, rolling her eyes in exasperation, which started a small argument between the two about Kat¡¯s pessimistic attitude and how it affected the team.

    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, which visibly made the two girls in front of me blush and stop their argument. ¡°Why haven¡¯t I ever been invited to watch a game?¡± I quickly asked, trying to avoid Kat getting upset over my laughter.

    ¡°Games? What games?¡± Kat asked sarcastically, making Lindsey anxiously hit her arm.

    ¡°Of course, you¡¯re invited to watch all the games,¡± Lindsey said eagerly, once again smiling exaggeratedly and fluttering her eyelashes.

    ¡°Thanks, Lindsey,¡± I said, feeling a bit awkward about her rapid eyelash fluttering. ¡°Oh, sorry, I haven¡¯t introduced myself. I¡¯m PJ Duncan,¡± I quickly added, realizing I hadn¡¯t done anything but ask questions during the entire interaction.

    ¡°I know,¡± Lindsey said dreamily, taking my hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

    ¡°Right,¡± I said, gently pulling my hand from her grasp, turning to the injured girl on the bed, who was much calmer, now that she wasn¡¯t putting pressure on her hurt knee.

    ¡°Madeline,¡± the girl on the bed said, strangely embarrassed, also accepting my hand in a thankfully more normal handshake.

    ¡°Well, Madeline, it looks like Nurse Gladis is a bit busy. Do you mind if I take care of this? I¡¯m just going to clean it up and apply some medicine. For that, I¡¯ll have to touch your leg,¡± I said seriously, checking my watch.

    It might be an awkward situation having to touch her leg to... ¡°Absolutely!¡± Madeline responded immediately, excitedly. ¡°I mean, sure, go for it, thanks,¡± she continued, calming down, embarrassed, as she made a small grimace of pain when moving her leg.

    ¡°Good,¡± I said, a bit surprised by her immediate response, taking a few seconds to readjust my thoughts as I prepared everything I¡¯d need to clean the wound.

    ¡°How did you hurt yourself? How did you fall?¡± I asked calmly, washing my hands at the small infirmary sink.

    ¡°I tripped while running,¡± Madeline responded, clearly embarrassed.

    ¡°On your own?¡± I asked seriously as I took a seat next to the bed.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Madeline answered, sending an annoyed look at the other two girls who were teasing her.

    ¡°Do you trip on your own often?¡± I asked seriously, checking her eyes for any signs of injury.

    ¡°No,¡± the girl responded nervously, avoiding eye contact.

    ¡°Good,¡± I nodded, stepping back. Maybe working with House had made me a bit paranoid. An accidental fall was sometimes just that¡ªan accident. ¡°This will sting a little,¡± I said, using the only kidney tray Gladis had as I started rubbing some soap and water on the edge of the wound.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to use alcohol to disinfect?¡± Madeline asked, surprised, wincing in pain.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s a bad habit,¡± I said calmly, making sure to clean the wound thoroughly. ¡°Although alcohol does have antimicrobial properties, it also damages healthy cells that are trying to repair the tissues,¡± I explained as I finished cleaning the wound and prepared to disinfect it.

    When I finished my explanation, I was so focused on properly treating Madeline''s wound that I didn¡¯t notice the room had fallen completely silent.

    Since the injuries were on her knees, they were more prone to getting irritated and dirty again, so I decided to apply a dressing and bandage. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said as I carefully lifted Madeline¡¯s leg to pass the bandages correctly, doing the same with the other knee, and clapping my hands in satisfaction when I was done.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to change the dressing daily for a few days until it heals, then you can leave it uncovered,¡± I told her while cleaning up the trash from the bandage wrappers and throwing them away.

    Receiving no response, I noticed the awkward silence and looked at the girls, who were staring at me intently.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked nervously.

    ¡°No-nothing,¡± Kat quickly replied as her friends only nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Can you change my bandages?¡± Madeline asked slowly. ¡°Are you going to be here for more days?¡± she added quickly, now embarrassed.

    ¡°I have to be here for at least two weeks, so yes, I¡¯ll be here until next week,¡± I explained while washing my hands. ¡°But I¡¯m sure Nurse Gladis will be around during those days,¡± I continued, and just then, the nurse¡¯s door opened again.

    ¡°Oh, what do we have here?¡± Gladis, walking hunched over and reeking of cigarette smoke, asked slowly as she entered the room and put on her glasses with shaky hands.

    ¡°Knee laceration. I cleaned it and applied dressings and bandages,¡± I said quickly, almost by habit, loud enough for her to hear. She nodded slowly.

    ¡°You did? Good, good,¡± she said, smiling, clearly pleased as she hobbled to her desk, took a seat with her shaky knees, and opened her small Sudoku book, visibly relieved that she didn¡¯t have to do her job.

    Amused by the elderly woman, completely focused on her little book, Kat and her friends seemed to remember where they were and the time. ¡°Is there anything else Madeline needs to know?¡± Kat asked after looking at the clock on the wall.

    ¡°No, you''re good to go,¡± I smiled at the girls.

    ¡°Well, thanks,¡± Madeline said, blushing, as she was helped to her feet by Kat and Lindsey.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later,¡± Kat said, pausing for a moment at the infirmary door.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I replied, smiling at my friend as they walked down the hall.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing sexier than a man who knows what he¡¯s talking about, no matter the topic,¡± Gladis said playfully, not taking her eyes off her Sudoku book.

    ¡°Wha¡­¡± I mumbled, deeply uncomfortable, and quickly got back to work, pretending I hadn¡¯t heard her words.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The day continued, like every other, ending with detention with Mr. Givens. I finished the day¡¯s assignments with Kat, who now sat beside me.

    ¡°So, soccer?¡± I teased her as we left school, walking towards my car.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Kat grumbled.

    ¡°Oh, come on, why didn¡¯t you ever tell me?¡± I pressed, still amused, as I opened the passenger door.

    ¡°It¡¯s just practice. You don¡¯t go around telling everyone that you train to be some sort of Rambo,¡± Kat said sarcastically. ¡°Well, everyone knows it by now,¡± she added playfully, rummaging through the CDs in the glove compartment as she usually did.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ well, I told my friends,¡± I said sarcastically, ignoring her teasing.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t play that card,¡± Kat said, offended, hitting my shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s my card, and I¡¯ll play it whenever I want,¡± I said, laughing as I shielded myself from her playful punches.

    ¡°Ugh, you¡¯re unbearable,¡± Kat exclaimed, banging her head against the seat. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s just soccer, and we¡¯re in Texas,¡± she said, throwing her hands up. ¡°It¡¯s just a sport.¡±

    ¡°I get that,¡± I replied, still amused, ¡°but it¡¯d be fun to cheer you on, you know, yell ¡®Goal!¡¯ and all that,¡± I teased.

    ¡°Goal,¡± Kat said, rolling her eyes in exasperation, though she couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Even if I wanted to invite you to these ¡®matches¡¯ you think exist, I assure you, there are none,¡± she declared, sighing.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked, genuinely curious. ¡°Are there no other schools with girls'' soccer teams?¡± As I asked, I realized it was quite possible there weren¡¯t.

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s a small league with nearby towns,¡± Kat responded, sounding disappointed, which surprised me¡ªI hadn¡¯t expected that answer.

    ¡°Then?¡± I asked, incredulous. ¡°Why don¡¯t you guys participate?¡± I pressed further.

    ¡°We¡¯re not a full team,¡± Kat explained.

    ¡°Oh yeah, ten players, and you need eleven,¡± I said, trying not to laugh. ¡°Why not ask for new members? I never heard about the soccer team, so I¡¯m sure plenty of others haven¡¯t either.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please, PJ, tell me the last time you found out about something without Alan or someone else having to tell you,¡± Kat declared sarcastically.

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s hurtful¡­ somehow,¡± I said, feigning offense.

    ¡°There¡¯s been a flyer on the notice board since the beginning of the school year,¡± Kat said ironically.

    ¡°Notice board?¡± I mumbled to myself, confused.

    ¡°Exactly!¡± Kat exclaimed, clearly hearing me.

    ¡°We should try finding one more member for your team. I bet there¡¯s someone who wants to play,¡± I said seriously.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure if you ask, every girl will want to join,¡± Kat muttered irritably, rolling her eyes as she turned up the music.

    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said sarcastically, amused that Kat thought that way. I didn¡¯t want to be arrogant, but it was quite possible she was just talking out of jealousy.

    Soon after, we arrived at Kat¡¯s house, where I dropped her off. As had become routine, I drove to the Kingman¡¯s house once again, but unfortunately, Mrs. Kingman once again apologized at the door, saying Brock still didn¡¯t want to see anyone.

    At the gym, surprisingly, more people had signed up over the past couple of days. ¡°Three more people?¡± I asked Tim, who was in charge when I wasn¡¯t around, by Case¡¯s orders.

    ¡°Yeah, we really need to create a schedule or expand. If we keep growing, there won¡¯t be enough space in the gym soon,¡± Tim said seriously beside me.

    Tim was right. At that moment, there were more people than there was equipment. Luckily, Case also noticed the problem and was supervising a line of people practicing shadowboxing.

    ¡°We need to expand. We might have to close for a few days,¡± I nodded, remembering the extra space in the back where the ring was ¡®stored.¡¯

    With so many new sign-ups, the gym had made a decent amount of money, possibly enough to hire a contractor to do the work.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan for the space?¡± Case asked from behind us, clearly having finished giving instructions to the clients. ¡°We can¡¯t just turn people away. That would be a stupid idea for the business,¡± he continued, crossing his arms and watching the people train.

    I wasn¡¯t sure if Case would ever admit it, but there were times I could see a certain pride in his eyes when he looked at the gym and the people training inside.

    ¡°I agree. I think it¡¯s time to hire someone to knock down that wall,¡± I said, pointing to the back wall.

    ¡°Yeah, that would open up a lot more space,¡± Case agreed. ¡°Do we have enough?¡± he asked seriously, pointing at the registration book.

    ¡°I think we can manage,¡± I nodded, though I wasn¡¯t entirely sure since I didn¡¯t know how much contractors typically charged.

    ¡°Good,¡± Case said calmly, nodding. ¡°Start warming up. Today, we¡¯re doing physical training,¡± he said, clapping his hands to signal the others to change their exercises.

    The next day at school, my day started normally... for the first two periods. After lunch in the cafeteria with Georgie and David, I slowly made my way to the nurse¡¯s office. Thankfully, the halls were much quieter, and after three days, I wasn¡¯t getting as many stares as I had on Monday.

    ¡°Gladis, Gladis, Gladis!¡± I shouted in concern upon entering the nurse¡¯s office. The elderly woman was slumped in her chair with her Sudoku book covering her face, seemingly asleep. But by the third shout, when she still hadn¡¯t moved, I quickly approached to check her pulse.

    ¡°What?¡± Gladis suddenly woke up, moving faster than I¡¯d ever seen her move, and threw her little book aside in surprise.

    ¡°You were telling me about your husband,¡± I said with a smile, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.

    ¡°Oh yeah, Marcus was a milkman. Back then, people bought milk at their doorsteps, not in stores like today,¡± she began her story. I had discovered that she always changed the story no matter what I asked. Last time, he was a mailman.

    "Oh look at that, it''s that time of the day," Gladis suddenly said as she glanced at her tiny watch while listening to the interesting, possibly made-up, story about her husband''s adventures. I seriously doubted the watch even worked.

    "Don''t worry, Gladis, I''ll be here watching over the medicines, even the incredibly addictive ones, which still surprise me for being in a school," I said at normal volume, smiling at her. Squinting her eyes from the lack of glasses, she smiled calmly.

    "I''m going to take a quick break," she said, grabbing her pack of cigarettes while getting up and walking out of the nurse''s office.

    "Sure, go relax," I said playfully, loud enough for her to hear, as if I hadn''t caught her napping when I arrived earlier.

    Spinning in the old nurse''s office chair, I checked to see if there was anything missing from the work Gladis hadn''t done. In less than three days, what initially seemed like an endless list of tasks had become a totally manageable school infirmary.

    "Hey," suddenly, a voice from the door startled me, interrupting my proud inspection of my work in the room.

    "Hey, Madeline," I said, standing up with a smile. "How''s your knee?" I asked.

    "It still hurts a little," she replied, smiling, "but I think the medicine helped."

    "Good, good," I nodded. "Are you here to change your bandages?" I asked.

    "Yeah," she responded excitedly, "I mean, yes," she quickly corrected herself, calming her excitement.

    "Okay, you came at a bad time. Gladis just stepped out for a break," I said, offering Madeline the infirmary bed to sit on as I settled back in the old chair.

    "Oh, really?" Madeline asked, with an oddly exaggerated tone of disappointment. "That''s too bad," she added, slightly lowering her head. "I don''t suppose you could do it again?" she asked eagerly, snapping her head up like a spring before I could say anything.

    "Well..." I slowly checked my watch. "I mean, sure," I nodded, continuing, thinking about the awkward wait until Gladis would return.

    "Great!" Madeline said, nodding excitedly with a big smile. "Thanks," she added, quickly calming her nerves again, more seriously this time.

    "Alright, yeah," I stood up, grabbing everything I needed to do the same thing I had done the day before. I watched as she nervously settled onto the bed. For some strange reason, this felt wrong. "Okay, let''s see," I said slowly as I removed the poorly applied bandages from her knees. "Did you wash it?"

    "Oh yeah, I remembered how you did it while I was taking a bath," she replied, embarrassed.

    "Good," I said, focused on cleaning her wounds to change her bandages. "The important thing is not to wash the wound directly, but around it, letting the soapy water flow over the wound. Got that?" I asked, showing her slowly how to do it.

    "Yeah," she nodded slowly, her eyes wide open, clearly lost in thought.

    "Great," I said quickly, finishing cleaning the wound again and applying fresh bandages, all the while avoiding eye contact with her. "That''s it," I said, standing up swiftly after finishing "my job."

    "Thanks," Madeline said weakly, still sitting on the infirmary bed.

    "No problem at all," I replied calmly, nodding while putting away the things I had used.

    "Are you free this Saturday?" Madeline asked suddenly, sounding nervous while I cleaned the old infirmary equipment.

    "Wha¡ª" I was about to reply, but she quickly cut me off again.

    "I know you have that hospital thing¡ªI mean, everyone knows you work at the hospital with doctors," she said hurriedly.

    "Oh, uhm, I''m sorry, Madeline, I''m¡ª" I tried to explain that I was grounded and that I definitely wouldn''t have a ''free'' weekend for a couple of weeks.

    "Oh, just forget I said anything, please," she interrupted me once more, clearly embarrassed, before rushing out of the infirmary, seemingly ignoring her knee injuries entirely.

    Other than Madeline, nobody really visited the infirmary on a regular day. After lunch, I returned to class, leaving Gladis alone in the room once more. Seeing her tired face, I was sure she''d be asleep again in no time.

    The day passed, and once again, I found myself outside the Kingman house, waiting for someone to open the door. "Mister¡ªKingman," I started to say, having grown used to the woman opening the door, but I quickly stopped myself when I found Mr. Kingman at the door instead.

    "Son!" he said with a wide smile, patting me on the shoulder.

    "I came to drop off my notes for Brock," I said, smiling back at the incredibly muscular man as I handed him the sheets of notes I had taken.

    "Oh yeah, my wife told me you¡¯ve been doing this for Joey. I can¡¯t tell you how much I appreciate it," he said, nodding seriously as he slapped the notes against his hand before placing them on a small table inside the door.

    "It''s nothing, really. He''s my friend, after all," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed by the man''s seriousness.

    "That''s right," Mr. Kingman said softly, with a slight smile.

    "Yeah... is Brock home? Think I could see him?" I asked, hopeful as usual after a few awkward seconds of silence on the Kingman porch.

    "He''s actually not home," Mr. Kingman said, smiling with apparent relief. "He finally decided to leave his room, and he¡¯s at a gym!" he added, clearly excited.

    "Gym?" I asked, concerned. It was very possible that, given his current mood, my friend could hurt himself by suddenly deciding to work out. I hoped he was being smart about it and not overdoing it.

    "Yeah, today he just suddenly got motivated to exercise. I bet he''ll be back at school in no time," the man said, nodding with relief.

    "I really hope so," I replied, smiling back at him. "So, do you think he''s ready to see me?" I asked.

    "I don¡¯t know, son. I''m sorry," he said, his smile fading for a moment. "This is definitely a step forward, but I don''t know how he feels about seeing anyone right now," he said slowly. "I don''t want to push him."

    Surprisingly, Mr. Kingman, despite his tough exterior, had a good understanding of his son''s emotions and knew where the limits were in terms of what to impose.

    "I understand," I said, nodding again, feeling a bit disappointed.

    "I''ll talk to him," the man said seriously. "I can''t promise anything, but I''ll try to convince him," he added, patting my shoulder once more.

    "That sounds great, thanks," I said, nodding in appreciation.

    "Son, you came at the perfect time. If you had been a minute later, no one would have been here to open the door," Mr. Kingman said, checking his watch. "I have to go, but if you need anything, don''t hesitate to ask, alright?" he said, patting my shoulder again as he leaned down to grab what looked like a toolbox.

    "Sure, thanks, Mr. Kingman," I replied.

    "I mean it, son. You''re practically part of the family now," he said seriously as we stepped off the front porch together, his hand still on my shoulder.

    "I''ll keep that in mind," I said, smiling gratefully.

    "Great," Mr. Kingman said, patting my shoulder one last time before walking over to a truck I had never seen parked at the house before. I guessed he was always working whenever I visited in the past.

    On the side of his truck, in large letters, like Bob''s advertisement, there was a picture of him wearing a construction helmet, along with his contact number.

    "Rocky''s Contractors," I read in disbelief. "No way. What are the odds?" I murmured. "Mr. Kingman! Do you have a contact card?"

    With Mr. Kingman''s card in hand, that night I let Tim arrange for him to visit the gym and provide an estimate for how much it would cost to expand the back of the place. I wouldn¡¯t take advantage of him¡ªit was, after all, his job.

    The next day at lunch in the school infirmary, Gladis was telling me a fantastic story about how she had once appeared in a movie during her youth when it was time for her cigarette break.

    "I wonder how many cigarettes she smokes on her ''break''," I muttered as Gladis walked out of the room, leaving me alone as I spun in one of the chairs.

    "I twisted my ankle, can you help me?" someone suddenly asked, out of breath at the infirmary door, startling me so much I almost fell out of the chair.

    Turning quickly, I found myself facing a girl I had never seen before. She was obviously flustered, slightly blushing as if she had just run to get there.

    "You twisted your ankle?" I asked, standing up and smiling at her, noticing that she didn¡¯t seem to have any trouble putting weight on either of her feet.

    "Oh yeah, it hurts really bad," the girl said quickly, noticing her ''mistake'' as she shifted her weight to one foot, pretending to be in pain when she moved the other.

    "Right," I muttered, puzzled. "Take a seat, the nurse won¡¯t be long," I said, smiling as I pointed to the bed. A ''twisted ankle'' could wait for Gladis.

    "Can''t you do something?" she asked, biting her lip as if to avoid smiling. "Maybe a massage?" she added weakly, lifting her foot as she sat on the bed.

    What''s going on?

    "It hurts a lot," the girl said as she took off her shoe and sock, pressing her foot, which showed no signs of trauma.

    "You know what, sure," I said, checking my watch and slowly walking over to the bed. "Tell me, what''s your name?" I asked, placing my hand on her ankle and leaning in closer.

    "Susan," she replied weakly, staring directly into my eyes.

    "Susan, beautiful name," I said, smiling as I gently pressed her ankle. "It¡¯s a name associated with purity and beauty, if I remember correctly," I continued, almost whispering. I recalled reading that somewhere.

    "Yeah," Susan murmured, completely lost in my words.

    I couldn¡¯t believe this was actually working.

    "Now, Susan, why did you lie?" I asked calmly, standing up and stepping back.

    "What?" Susan asked, as if snapping out of a trance.

    "Yes, I was pressing your ankle a moment ago and moving it around. You have a healthy range of motion, so there¡¯s no sprain¡ªnot even a grade one," I explained, washing my hands and smiling at her as she looked at me with wide eyes.

    "I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about," she quickly said, clearly embarrassed and avoiding eye contact.

    "I think you do. Shortly after Gladis went out for her break, you came running into the nurse''s office, claiming you had a sprained ankle," I said calmly, sitting back in the chair I had just left. "What I don¡¯t understand is why. Did you want a massage?" I asked, amused.

    "We heard you were here," she admitted slowly, having been caught in her lie.

    "We?" I muttered, noticing how Susan''s eyes widened in surprise, as if she had let something slip. She quickly glanced toward the door of the nurse''s office before looking back at me. That was enough for me.

    Walking to the door, ignoring her worried expression, I stepped outside and found seven other girls standing around, pretending to be busy as soon as they saw me.

    "Sprained ankles?" I asked incredulously, receiving a few nods in response.

    Back in the nurse''s office, Susan had already put her shoes back on and was sitting on the edge of the bed, clearly embarrassed.

    Madeline? No, she''s probably still too embarrassed about my ''rejection.'' Kat? Definitely not. "So, Lindsey told you I was in here giving out free massages?" I asked, crossing my arms. Susan frowned, surprised. Got it.

    "It was totally worth it," Susan said arrogantly, forgetting her embarrassment now that she had been caught.

    Teenage girls are terrifying.

    "I''m glad for you," I said, unable to help but laugh.

    "Thanks. This won''t happen again, right?" Susan asked, biting her lip as she stood up.

    "No," I replied, still amused. "And please, don¡¯t hurt yourselves on purpose," I added, seeing the slight disappointment in her eyes.

    "You''re cute, but not that cute," she said, smiling while still biting the corner of her lip as she walked toward the door.

    "Wait," I said quickly before she could open the door.

    "Yeah?" she asked, stopping.

    "Are you part of the girls'' soccer team?" I asked slowly, recalling my conversation with Kat. It couldn¡¯t be true, right?

    "No, why?" she shook her head slowly.

    "You should join. You have excellent legs for it," I said seriously, despite being completely embarrassed by the words coming out of my mouth.

    "Sure, why not," she replied casually, smiling once more before leaving the room.

    "I can¡¯t believe it," I muttered, putting my hand to my forehead. "Kat was right."

    Thankfully, Susan must have said something to the girls waiting outside, because after her, no one else came in with a ¡®sprained ankle.¡¯

    Since the next period after lunch was free, I stayed in the nurse''s office.

    "So, my husband, who was a police officer back then, got shot in the shoulder," Gladis was telling me one of her stories when the nurse¡¯s office door suddenly burst open. A boy, panting and obviously worried, stood there. "We don¡¯t know what''s wrong with him," he said, stepping aside to let two other classmates carry in a third, who was sweating profusely and seemed to be having some kind of seizure.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 77

    I''m Back!!!

    I apologize for there not being a new Chapter last week.

    Due to heavy rains, the power in much of my city was intermittent for several days, so much so that I had to disconnect most of my appliances to prevent damage from the sudden outages.

    I can''t even imagine what those less fortunate, who were closer to the hurricane, went through. I hope all your loved ones are safe.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Without even thinking, I immediately stood up and guided the two teenagers to lay the third one on the bed, who was still suffering from what was clearly a seizure.

    "He was fine," a woman said nervously as she entered behind the boys into the infirmary, possibly another teacher from the school.

    "Gladis, call emergency services," I exclaimed while doing a quick physical examination of the boy, trying to stay calm. Gladis was still sitting in her chair, seemingly in shock. "How long has it been? An approximation," I asked seriously, looking at the people who had entered the infirmary.

    "One minute," one of the boys answered worriedly, shrugging his shoulders.

    The boy wasn''t making erratic movements or salivating profusely. There was no rigidity in his body, except for his abdomen, which was swollen. But he was breathing rapidly, even though he had likely lost consciousness. I also noticed his complexion; he looked bad¡ªsweaty, pale, and definitely bradycardic. His pulse, from what I could tell, was below sixty beats per minute, and on top of everything, I detected a faint chemical odor coming from his pants, possibly drugs.

    "What happened?" I asked, still focused on the boy on the bed. "Someone?" I asked again after not getting a response for a few seconds. "And what''s his name?"

    "He was fine one moment and the next, he wasn''t," the woman, who I recognized as a teacher, responded, clearly frustrated and possibly worried.

    "I can imagine that part. I want to know if anything specific happened. Did he walk? Say something? Or did he just collapse where he stood?" I asked seriously, concentrating on counting the beats per minute of his pulse.

    "His name is Matt. He stood up from his seat, murmuring something, and slowly walked to the front of the classroom. He stopped, and then collapsed just as you see him now," fortunately, one of the other boys, understanding what I was asking for, nervously answered.

    "Good," I said, nodding with concern, as his pulse continued to drop.

    "The ambulance is on its way," Gladis finally said nervously, much slower than she should have been, standing next to me and looking at the teenager on the bed through her small glasses.

    A couple of minutes later, the teacher and the other students had left the infirmary.

    The seizure had ended after approximately three minutes, and now, with his breathing much more relaxed, I too felt calmer.

    As I checked the unconscious boy once again, Principal Petersen, followed by a pair of paramedics, quickly entered the infirmary.

    "Male patient, eighteen years old, unconscious, presenting with bradycardia, abdominal swelling, and an odor of unknown chemicals. No further medical history," I said immediately upon seeing the paramedics, stepping aside to let them do their job.

    "Got it," one of the paramedics responded seriously, preparing with his partner to lift the boy onto their stretcher.

    "That was exhilarating," Gladis suddenly exclaimed, placing her hand on her chest as soon as Principal Petersen and the paramedics left the infirmary.

    "Yeah, it was," I replied slowly, looking at the elderly woman with concern. "Take a seat," I added gently, taking her arm and guiding her to her chair. I didn''t want her to have a heart episode because of the situation.

    "I missed this feeling," she said with a smile from her chair, seemingly enjoying more than just the fact that a student had gone through a medical episode. "I remember when I met my husband at a first aid shop on the military base. He was a soldier," she continued a moment later, apparently calming her heart, effortlessly creating another story about her late husband.

    Gladis was telling me how her husband had received the Medal of Honor in World War II without ever using a weapon when the infirmary door was suddenly opened again.

    "You''re still here," Principal Petersen said, visibly relieved to see me. "I need to know what to tell Mrs. Hart when she calls, asking what happened to her son."

    "Probably something about drugs," Gladis, completely oblivious to who Principal Petersen was talking to, responded indifferently.

    "Or that when the paramedics arrived, Matt was stable enough to be taken to the hospital. He''s going to need medical tests and possibly be admitted," I said slowly, as if I were merely offering a suggestion.

    "Right," Principal Petersen nodded. "Thank you, Gladis," he continued, nodding to the elderly woman before leaving the infirmary.

    "You kids and your drugs, remind me to tell you about the time my husband single-handedly took down a mafia boss," Gladis said as she leaned over to pull a pack of cigarettes from her desk drawer. "I''m going to take a break; all this commotion has rattled my nerves," she added as she slowly stood up.

    "Sure," I replied, amused by the increasingly fantastical stories she told, laughing.

    The rest of the day at school, what had happened with Matt spread quickly as a rumor.

    "How true is it that a senior nearly died and you saved his life?" Kat asked, sitting next to me in detention, drawing the attention of the other people present, including Mr. Givens.

    "About one percent true. I didn''t do anything other than a physical exam," I quickly responded. I didn''t need more false rumors circulating around school.

    "I knew it," Kat said proudly.

    "Let me guess, there''s a rumor going around that I performed open-heart surgery on Matt," I said, slightly frustrated and sarcastic.

    "Basically," Kat said with a grin, pulling out her stuff to, like the previous days, do her homework with my help.

    A few minutes passed while Kat worked on her math homework, occasionally asking me questions about the procedures.

    "And whatever happened to him, do you think it''s contagious?" she suddenly asked, interested, as if she had been thinking about it for a while. Once again, the others in the room, pretending not to notice our conversation, fell silent to listen carefully.

    "It''s quite likely," I said, smiling mischievously and winking at my friend, noticing out of the corner of my eye how Mr. Givens, who was in front of us, suddenly stiffened. "But I''m not entirely sure," I added calmly.

    "I think that''s enough for today," Mr. Givens said, standing up immediately and pretending to be calm. "Enjoy your Friday," he added, quickly leaving the classroom, followed shortly after by the other students.

    "It''s a lie, right?" Kat asked with a smile and a faint tone of worry.

    "Is it?" I asked playfully.

    "Idiot," she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation and giving me a light punch on the shoulder before packing up her things.

    "I''ve got about forty minutes before my mom expects me home. Want to grab a chocolate milkshake?" I asked, feeling slightly rebellious after the apparent success of my innocent prank as we left the classroom.

    "A chocolate milkshake?" Kat raised an eyebrow.

    "They''re amazing," I declared, slightly offended, with no intention of debating the matter.

    "You''ve got a problem," Kat said, amused by my reaction.

    After drinking the milkshakes at the mall, as usual, I took Kat home before heading to the Kingman house to drop off the final notes of the week. Once again, Mrs. Kingman greeted me, as Mr. Kingman was at the gym, taking measurements to start working over the weekend without affecting business too much.

    When I got home, my mom, who had apparently heard my car pull up, walked seriously toward the door.

    "What?" I asked, worried, thinking she might have found out about my outing with Kat to the mall.

    "Was there an accident at school?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.

    "Yeah, a senior had a seizure. I did a physical exam and sent him to the hospital, stable," I replied, surprised that she knew. Had Mr. Cooper told her?

    "I heard it from Dr. House," as if she had read my mind, my mom said, sighing. "He called, apparently he needs you," she added, shaking her head slightly.

    "Did he take Matt''s case?" I asked, surprised. If so, there was a big chance it wasn''t drugs after all. That''s the first thing any regular doctor would think. House would reject Matt just for that reason. There must be something more.

    "Apparently, another student from your school was admitted an hour ago," my mom explained, sounding worried.

    "Another one?" I asked, puzzled, lost in thought. Could it be something contagious? No, there would be more than two sick people.

    "Don''t take this as leniency on my punishments," she added, annoyed. "You can go," she continued, turning on her heels and walking back to her room.

    Without thinking twice, intrigued by the case, I ran out of the house and jumped into my car, heading straight for the hospital.

    At the hospital, I quickly greeted the nurses who were happy to see me. Thinking back on everything I remembered about Matt from the infirmary, I walked towards the diagnostics lounge.

    "But look who it is, the wonder kid himself, too famous to show up here?" Before I could reach the diagnostics lounge, in one of the hospital corridors, House''s always sarcastic voice stopped me in my tracks.

    House, along with Chase, Cameron, and Dr. Foreman, was gathered outside the patient rooms.

    "Very funny," I said, fake-laughing at House''s comment as I walked towards the doctors. "Hi," I greeted three-quarters of the group, surprisingly even getting a response from Dr. Foreman.

    "It happened at your school. How much do you know about the case? I don''t have time to catch you up," House abruptly cut off the cordial interaction, asking pointedly.

    "I was in the school infirmary when Matt collapsed," I explained.

    "Of course you were," Chase said, shaking his head with a smirk.

    "Matt?" House asked, frowning.

    "The first patient," Cameron explained, rolling her eyes.

    "Oh," House said, completely uninterested in the detail. "Why were you in the school infirmary?"

    "Part of my punishment," I explained.

    "And what about the second one, do you know anything?" House asked again, nodding quickly at Cameron.

    "Only what my mom told me. Same symptoms as Matt," I replied.

    "Well, that''s good," House said, nodding slowly. "The bad news is, we don''t need you here anymore. I don''t even know why you came," House declared, smiling maliciously.

    Exasperated by House''s grin, I could only roll my eyes. "Did I get here too late?" I asked, slightly disappointed.

    "Only by a few minutes," Chase declared, smiling. "They were exposed to ethyl-parathion."

    "Insecticide? Where were they exposed?" I asked, surprised.

    "On the school bus," Cameron responded. "It was used on the route the bus takes."

    "Oh, that must be what I smelled on his pants," I added, realizing.

    "What?" House raised an eyebrow, smirking suggestively.

    "Matt''s clothes smelled like chemicals," I explained, ignoring House''s mockery. "At first, I thought it was drugs."

    "Obviously," House said, with exaggerated obviousness, smiling at Dr. Foreman.

    "It doesn''t make sense," Chase said, frowning, visibly annoyed.

    "What doesn''t?" I asked, confused.

    "That you could smell the insecticide on Matt''s clothes," Chase explained. "There wasn''t enough residue on the bus seat for the smell to be present," he continued seriously. "Are you sure you didn''t smell something else?"

    "Yeah, what did you really smell?" House asked, pretending to be overly intrigued.

    "It''s a theory worth checking," Cameron said, ignoring House''s joke and shrugging her shoulders.

    "Yes, it is," House said, still amused, causing Cameron to nod and walk away.

    "Now do you see why I came?" I asked sarcastically.

    "Don''t get arrogant," House said, walking away, still smiling.

    "Yeah, sorry, that''s your job," I replied, amused.

    "The smell on the pants¡ªthat was a great catch," surprisingly, Dr. Foreman said calmly, much to both Chase''s and my surprise. "Were you the one who told the paramedics and reported the smell?" he asked.

    "Yeah," I responded, confused by Dr. Foreman''s sudden kind words.

    "I need to check why that wasn''t reported," Foreman muttered, nodding slowly and looking slightly annoyed. "They can''t withhold important information like that."

    "Yeah, also the ER doctor, it''s impossible that he missed a chemical smell on his pants," Chase said, crossing his arms, agreeing with Foreman.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Foreman walked away, leaving just Chase and me.

    "So, what did you do that kept you from coming? The nurses were saying you were grounded?" Chase asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

    "I got into a fight," I explained, starting to walk with Chase.

    "Did you win?" Chase asked, snorting with amusement.

    "Please," I said, smiling arrogantly at Chase, exaggerating.

    "Sure," Chase said, patting my arm, shaking his head, amused.

    In the diagnostics lounge, only House was there, playing with a small yo-yo in his office. Chase, with nothing else to do at the moment, started reading one of the books on the shelves in the room.

    "Kid," before I could take a seat in one of the free chairs and possibly copy Chase by reading a book, House called out from his office, making the blond doctor next to me snort in amusement.

    Sighing, I put the chair back and walked into House''s office.

    "A week of clinic duty," House declared while playing with his yo-yo. "That''s what you owe me for now," he continued, smiling sinisterly.

    "That''s your job," I said, incredulous, dragging one of the free chairs in his office to sit down.

    "And I''m making you responsible for it, so you owe me a week of clinic duty," House said innocently. "I mean, it''s entirely your fault for not coming. And why? A fight?" House pointed to my fists, squinting.

    Rolling my eyes, exasperated by his attitude, was all the answer House needed.

    "Weird," House murmured, leaning back in his chair, smoothly tossing his yo-yo.

    "What?" I asked, intrigued.

    "You only have healing wounds on your hands, not your face. Did you fight a gay guy who didn''t want to mess up your looks?" House asked unpleasantly.

    "This might be new to you, but I won. Fights can be won," I responded with sarcasm, falsely surprising House.

    "You won? No way. Did you fight a child? Worse, did you fight someone in a vegetative state?" House asked immediately, effortlessly turning it into a joke.

    "No, of course not. I''d never stoop that low... A cripple, on the other hand," I muttered with a sarcastic smile, aimed at him.

    "Oh, scary," House declared, raising his free hand in a mock-scared gesture, grinning widely. "You forget I have a cane," he added, lifting his cane slightly, as if in question.

    "At least you wouldn''t be at that much of a disadvantage," I said, shrugging, amused.

    "You know I can turn clinic duty into rectal exams at any moment, right?" House asked, obviously entertained by our banter.

    That would be pretty low, even for someone like House... Who am I kidding?

    Raising my hands in surrender, I accepted defeat, genuinely worried about having to stick my fingers into another Texan man''s rectum.

    "Knew it, good choice," House said sarcastically, smiling. "Now, let''s see if a week without my incredible presence has ruined your little progress," he continued, leaning back in his chair after putting down his yo-yo.

    What followed was a series of questions, each one harder than the last. Completely made-up cases with radical changes from one moment to the next, questions about toxicity on small and large scales, impossible situations with non-existent patients¡ªHouse was testing me on every aspect of what he considered being a doctor.

    "House," interrupting another of his questions, the three doctors under his command entered the office. "Phosdrin," Dr. Foreman said seriously, extending a sheet of printed data. "PJ was right."

    Taking the paper from Foreman''s hands, House nodded, pausing for a moment as he and everyone else in the room noticed the still surprising fact that Dr. Foreman referred to me by my name.

    "Hit ''em with the hydrolase," House ordered after reading the data on the sheet, causing the doctors nodded and turned to leave the way they had entered. "Cameron, go convince the mighty mom to say yes," House said, stopping Cameron before she could leave like Chase and Dr. Foreman.

    "I hate being the only one she doesn''t hate," Cameron said, rolling her eyes in frustration.

    "Liar, you love it," House immediately retorted, squinting his eyes playfully. "Take the kid with you; he might be useful as a bargaining chip," he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

    "Okay," Cameron sighed, ignoring House''s comment and rolling her eyes in exasperation before nodding at me to follow her.

    "Is it true you got into a fight, and that''s why you didn''t come all week?" Cameron suddenly asked as we walked through the hospital corridors.

    "Everyone knows?" I asked in disbelief. I thought that outside of school, gossip wouldn''t be such a big part of my life. Obviously, I was wrong.

    "Your mom told a nurse, and soon enough, everyone knew. I think they all love you," Cameron said, amused, giving me the same explanation Chase had. "But you don''t look bruised up... well, except for your knuckles," she continued, taking my hand to inspect my knuckles.

    "It was just a small fight," I explained, gently pulling my hand back.

    "Fight?" Cameron raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

    "It caused a big stir because it happened in the cafeteria during lunch. Why does Matt''s mom hate everyone? I understand House, but Chase and Dr. Foreman?" Trying to change the subject, I asked, not wanting to continue the conversation about the fight.

    "She''s not convinced that Chase or Foreman have Matt''s best interests at heart," Cameron explained. "And House, well, he was House," she added with a slight ironic nod.

    "Let me guess, he insulted her when she questioned your decisions?" I said, imagining what could have happened, unsurprised.

    "Yup," the doctor replied, pressing her lips together. "Don''t think I didn''t notice you changed the subject," Cameron said, suddenly recalling our earlier conversation with a smile.

    "One can only dream," I declared with exaggerated disappointment, making Cameron snort and roll her eyes.

    "Mrs. Davis, may we talk for a moment?" Cameron said, spotting a woman approaching the coffee table in one of the hospital''s waiting rooms.

    "Now what, another new treatment?" Mrs. Davis asked, exasperated, as she grabbed a cup to pour herself some coffee from the small machine.

    "We really think the hydrolase is the only¡ª" Cameron began, but Mrs. Davis cut her off.

    "I''m thinking about transferring Matt out of here," Mrs. Davis said seriously.

    "Ms. Davis, your son is very sick; he won''t survive a transfer," Cameron quickly said, trying to change the woman''s mind.

    "I''m getting a second opinion from the Center for Disease Control," Mrs. Davis said angrily, clearly not intending to change her decision.

    "Right," Cameron nodded seriously. "Look, when my grandmother got sick¡ª"

    "What?" Mrs. Davis interrupted, irritated. "You''re gonna tell me about some tough decision you had to make?" she asked sarcastically.

    "I know how hard this is for you," Cameron said slowly, realizing her approach wasn''t working.

    "Maybe embroider the story a little? Make it fit?" Mrs. Davis asked sarcastically, clearly annoyed with Cameron.

    "I can''t imagine being in your position," Cameron murmured softly, trying to calm Mrs. Davis with her usual kind tone.

    "Honesty? A kind of vulnerable honesty, that''s your thing, and the looks," Mrs. Davis scoffed, crossing her arms as she held her cup, preparing to leave.

    "Oh boy," Cameron murmured, disappointed.

    "No, that''s not honesty. It''s empathy. Honesty is telling you that the CDC won''t give a damn about Matt''s condition as long as it''s not a public health risk," I decided to intervene, taking on the role of the bad cop since Cameron''s approach hadn''t worked.

    "Sorry, what?" Mrs. Davis, seemingly just noticing my presence, asked, surprised.

    "As long as whatever Matt has doesn''t pose a risk to the general public, the CDC won''t pay any attention to the case," I stated dryly. "Especially not in a small town like Medford," I added with a snort. "There aren''t enough resources. It would take weeks for them to even notice you sent a fax."

    My words seemed to catch Mrs. Davis off guard, and she simply remained silent.

    "Who''s this?" Mrs. Davis asked Cameron, frowning after a moment.

    "This is PJ Duncan," Cameron answered nervously. "He was the first to treat Matt at school. They''re classmates. You might know him from the newspa¡ª"

    "Oh, PJ Duncan, I know who you are," Mrs. Davis interrupted, raising one of her hands. "You''re the one who sent two of Matt''s classmates to the hospital," she accused, crossing her arms in anger.

    "It was only one," I quickly corrected, defending myself. "And that has nothing to do with this."

    "Yeah, just one," Mrs. Davis repeated slowly, scoffing. "Am I supposed to take recommendations from a teenager?" she asked Cameron, pointing at me.

    "He knows a lot about medicine," Cameron commented, trying to argue in my favor and shrugging her shoulders.

    "I''ll wait for the CDC," Mrs. Davis declared firmly, smiling falsely at Cameron. "They send a violent kid and a single woman to hustle the single mom," she muttered as she walked away.

    "Actually, they sent one of the greatest medical talents of recent times and a doctor!" Cameron said, straightening up indignantly. "''They'' sent us to tell you that if your son doesn''t get this treatment, there''s a good chance he''ll die," Cameron added, stopping the woman in her tracks.

    "That''s what House said about a treatment that would have killed Matt," Mrs. Davis said, her eyes filled with worry and desperation. "You''ve gotta do better than that."

    "No, it''s on you," Cameron replied angrily. "You need to do better right now. Yes or no?" she asked seriously, stepping closer to Mrs. Davis.

    "I don''t know," Mrs. Davis murmured in defeat, looking Cameron in the eyes.

    "Figure it out. Come on, PJ," Cameron said, walking away from the waiting room at a slow pace. "Just a small fight, huh?" a few steps away, Cameron asked me.

    "Maybe not that small," I murmured, slightly embarrassed.

    "Wait!" a moment later, before we could get much further, Mrs. Davis called out nervously. "Okay, do it," she said, lowering her head, trying to avoid crying.

    "Thank you," Cameron murmured to her as we passed by.

    "The fight... I was defending a friend," I said awkwardly, feeling the need to explain myself as I stood beside Mrs. Davis in the waiting room.

    "I know," she said, covering her mouth with one hand, obviously worried about her son. "I heard what they did to that poor boy," she added as she walked slowly into the room Cameron had entered a moment ago.

    Knowing that it was now just a matter of waiting for the hydrolase to take effect, I made my way back to the diagnostic lounge.

    House, standing outside the lounge, was talking to an older woman who was speaking unusually close to him.

    "So, who''s your girlfriend?" I teased as soon as the woman bid House goodbye.

    "Oh, don''t be jealous. I''m sure if you ask nicely, she can help you out," House said suggestively, raising his eyebrows and gesturing with his hand.

    "Don''t be gross. What did she want?" I asked, rolling my eyes in exasperation at House''s bad joke.

    "To live happily on her own terms," House replied flatly.

    "Can''t blame her," I murmured, shrugging.

    "No, definitely not," House said with a small smile, watching the woman walk away. "Did you convince the mighty mom?" he asked once the older woman was out of sight.

    "Cameron did," I replied.

    "Well, let''s hope your strange fetish for sniffing other people''s pants was the right call," House declared sarcastically as he walked into Dr. Wilson''s office.

    As I expected, it took a few hours before Matt and Chi Ling, the second patient, woke up.

    Knowing there was nothing more to do at the hospital, I said goodbye to the doctors and went home, feeling content, as I always did after a visit to the hospital.

    The days passed, and since it was the weekend, aside from washing the cars¡ªwith Gabe''s paid help¡ªthere wasn''t much to do.

    On Sunday, shortly after noon, Teddy had made plans with her friends to spend most of the day at the mall after watching a movie. Since Mom was resting in bed and Bob was out on a last-minute job, the responsibility of taking my sister and picking her up later obviously fell on me.

    When I returned home after dropping Teddy off with Bianca and Baja in front of the theater, I found Sheldon dressed in layer upon layer of clothing, wearing Georgie''s shoulder pads, helmet, and a pair of oven mitts.

    "Remember, the birds won''t attack you if you don''t bother them, Sheldon," I reminded the kid playfully as I got out of my car.

    "This isn''t for the birds; it''s for trying to pet the dog. I think it''s time," Sheldon nervously explained.

    "And you were waiting for me?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yes, I thought it would be much better to have some extra protection," Sheldon said seriously, pointing to his outfit.

    "So your plan is to use me as a human shield if the dog attacks you?" I asked incredulously.

    "Correct," Sheldon responded immediately and completely shamelessly.

    "Got it," I said, amused. "Wait here a moment," I added as I entered the house to drop off my things.

    Following Sheldon, we walked to the Sparks'' yard, where the dog was now chained up, lying on the ground.

    "Oh, look at you. You should be free, running wherever you want," I said, approaching the dog and petting it energetically, amused by the animal''s excitement.

    "PJ, is it safe for me to come closer?" Sheldon asked from behind me, still several steps away from the poor chained dog, clearly scared.

    "Yeah, buddy, come on," I said, remembering why we were there.

    "Okay, here we go, petting... the dog," Sheldon nervously said as he slowly approached me step by step, finally kneeling beside me. "Keep an eye on him, PJ," Sheldon practically begged.

    "Of course," I said seriously, placing a hand on Sheldon''s shoulder.

    Sheldon moved his hand with extreme caution, almost in slow motion, as he brought it closer to the dog. His eyes squinted in obvious concern, and he finally touched the dog. "I''m doing it. I''m petting a dog," Sheldon murmured, surprised at himself.

    "Yeah, that''s it, buddy," I said, giving him a light pat on the helmet, proud.

    "I''ve conquered my phobia," Sheldon told me proudly, smiling broadly.

    "Yes, you did," I said, amused, as the kid was still wearing at least three layers of clothing between him and the dog.

    "You''re a good boy, yes you are," Sheldon said proudly, nodding as he continued petting the dog.

    I could see Sheldon gradually becoming more comfortable with the idea of petting the dog without fear. I also noticed the dog slowly getting up.

    "Nope," I said, grabbing Sheldon by the back of the shoulder pads and lifting him quickly, just barely avoiding the dog licking his face.

    "Whoa, what''s happening?" Sheldon asked nervously, his feet dangling off the ground.

    "Rules I should''ve told you from the start," I said as I held my free hand near the dog''s head for it to lick, lowering Sheldon back to the ground slowly. "The dog won''t hesitate to lick whatever''s closest, so you need to keep your face away unless you want it licked," I warned him, relieved that I had avoided an inevitable freakout.

    "I understand," Sheldon said, now scared, nodding quickly as he watched the dog continue to lick my hand. "I think that''s enough for today," Sheldon said, now clearly nervous about the idea of getting licked by the dog, as he moved entirely out of reach of the animal.

    "That''s fine, great job, buddy," I said, patting Georgie''s helmet on Sheldon''s head, proud of the kid.

    "Thank you," Sheldon said seriously, nodding with pride. "Could you help me take off the gloves?" Sheldon asked as we walked away from the Sparks'' yard.

    "Sure," I said with a chuckle, helping him with the oven mitts. "There you go," I said, clapping with the mitts in my hands and offering them to him.

    "No," Sheldon quickly said, shaking his head rapidly as he backed away from the gloves, afraid.

    "Of course," I chuckled, shaking my head and clapping once more with the oven mitts still on as I followed Sheldon back to his house.

    Upon entering the Cooper house, the first person I saw was a tall man sitting on one of the living room couches. Across from him, Meemaw, Mrs. Cooper, and Mrs. Sparks were also seated on another couch.

    "Good afternoon. I''m pleased to inform you all that I''ve overcome my fear of dogs," Sheldon announced proudly, seemingly unaware of how ridiculous he looked, still dressed as if he had just come from a football game.

    "Oh, really, Shelly?" Mrs. Cooper asked sweetly, putting her hands over her chest with a smile.

    "Yes, PJ witnessed me," Sheldon declared, puffing out his chest, as if he felt the need to prove his feat.

    "Yep, I witnessed it," I said, amused, smiling at everyone present. "Sorry to intrude, Mrs. Cooper, I came to return these gloves," I added after a moment.

    "Oh, thank you so much, PJ, and thank you for helping Sheldon," Mrs. Cooper said as she stood up to take the gloves from my hands.

    "What?" Sheldon exclaimed, offended. "He was just there as protection," he quickly added.

    "Don''t be rude, Shelly," Mrs. Cooper scolded him with a stern look, visibly affecting Sheldon.

    "No, he''s right. It was all his own effort," I said, patting Sheldon''s helmet once more, amused. I had no intention of taking away his small, yet significant, achievement.

    "Anyway, thanks, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said seriously, watching her son, who had begun walking toward the bathroom.

    "No problem," I responded with a smile.

    "Howdy, I don''t think we''ve been properly introduced," the tall man in formal attire, holding a Bible, said with a broad smile, noticing the slightly tense atmosphere between Mrs. Cooper and her youngest son.

    "Oh, this is PJ Duncan, our neighbor," Mrs. Cooper quickly said, taking the initiative. "PJ, this is Pastor Jeff from our church," she added.

    "Nice to meet you," I said with a smile at the stranger, who seemed to have a perpetual grin on his face.

    "The pleasure is all mine," the man replied, still smiling. "I haven''t seen you in church. Does your family belong to another one, hopefully not the Catholics?" he asked, leaning in slightly, perhaps joking, causing only Mrs. Cooper to let out a small laugh.

    "Oh, no, I don''t think we belong to any church. At least, we never go to church," I explained calmly, for the first time seeing the pastor lose his smile for a brief moment.

    "Oh, that''s bad," he said, tilting his head slightly, but with the smile quickly returning to his face.

    "Okay..." I murmured to myself, nodding to the man who continued to smile. "Meemaw, Mrs. Sparks," I greeted, nodding to the two women, who both returned the gesture with broad smiles.

    The two women showed obvious signs of having been in a fight, just as Georgie had told me several days ago. Meemaw had a nearly recovered black eye, and Mrs. Sparks was wearing a cap and holding what appeared to be a bag with a clump of hair.

    "I heard you were in a fight, Aces, and you won. Maybe you could give me some lessons at that gym of yours for next time," Meemaw said sarcastically while throwing a few mock punches in the air. "What, too soon?" she asked when she saw Mrs. Cooper and Pastor Jeff watching her disapprovingly.

    "Wait, the gym that opened next to the video store is yours?" Pastor Jeff suddenly asked, surprised.

    I didn''t like where this conversation was going.

    "I thought it belonged to that guy," the pastor continued, raising his arms as if to show off muscles.

    "Case Walker," Mrs. Sparks said with a smile, biting her lip, while Meemaw nodded enthusiastically, raising her eyebrows.

    "Yeah, him," Pastor Jeff said, nodding nervously. "I''ve received many comments from concerned people who think the place is too violent," he continued.

    I noticed how Mrs. Cooper was nodding in agreement with the pastor''s words, and I immediately understood the type of "comments" he might be receiving.

    "No, he''s the owner. I just help him with administrative stuff," I quickly lied. "If you have any concerns, you should take them up directly with Case," I added, avoiding whatever ideas the pastor might be forming in his long head.

    The gym didn''t need any attacks from a church.

    "But couldn''t you, you know, pass along some messages? It would be a great deed for the Big Guy upstairs," he said condescendingly, pointing to the ceiling, still smiling.

    "No can do," I responded quickly. "Mr. Walker doesn''t take well to constructive criticism. Whoever he catches making those comments gets punished horribly," I said, changing the way I referred to Case, pretending to be nervous as I checked the window of the house, as if worried Case might hear. "And I''ve trained with him since the beginning. I can''t imagine what he''d do to someone he doesn''t know," I added, pretending to shudder slightly.

    Sorry, Case.

    I could see Mrs. Cooper frown slightly. She knew Case a little and was aware that, at least with people he didn''t train, the muscular man was usually very kind.

    Meemaw, on the other hand, seemed to realize her mistake and just nodded in agreement with what I said.

    "Oh well, then I''ll continue with my efforts to send letters. I haven''t received any responses yet, but with a little help," Pastor Jeff said, pointing once again to the ceiling of the Cooper house, "everything is possible," he added, winking.

    "That''s a great plan," I said, smiling back at the man, while considering sending a few letters on Case''s behalf once the gym reopened, just to reassure the pastor. "Oh, look at the time, I''ve got to go," I said exaggeratedly, glancing at my watch. "Pastor Jeff, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we meet again." That wasn''t true.

    "The pleasure was all mine, PJ," he said, giving me a weak handshake.

    After saying goodbye to everyone else, I quickly headed back home.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 78

    I hope you all have some chalk-

    Enjoy.

    ---

    Next week passed without much change; every day my routine consisted of going to school, the nurse''s office, detention, home, and the gym, which Mr. Kingman and his team finished remodeling a few days after the weekend.

    Of course, between school and home, I kept taking Kat to her house, even though my friend''s detention had ended. Whatever she''d done only earned her a week of detention; the rest of the days, she simply used to take advantage of me and get her homework done, using me as her encyclopedia.

    My visits to the Kingmans'' house never ceased either. Mrs. Kingman seemed calmer each day regarding Brock''s situation, though strangely, there was a hidden sadness for some other reason besides her son''s refusal to come out to see me.

    The weekend arrived, and on Saturday, after a few weeks without a barbecue, Mr. Cooper and Bob felt the need to have one.

    With Georgie''s help, as always when there was a barbecue between the two families, we moved tables and the grill out from our garage.

    As everything was being prepared for Mr. Cooper and Bob to start lighting the grill for the meat, an older man, partially bald and carrying a red box, entered the yard, smiling broadly, stopping everyone in their tracks as we all wondered who he was.

    "Sorry I''m a little late," he said, approaching Mrs. Cooper, the first person he came across. "My pant leg got stuck in the chain of my bike," he added, laughing lightly.

    "I''m sorry, are you a friend of Amy''s?" Mrs. Cooper asked the older man kindly, smiling.

    "Oh no, Sheldon invited me to dinner. I''m John Sturgis," the man replied, causing everyone, except me, to have more questions.

    I knew who he was¡ªMeemaw''s romantic interest, at least in Sheldon''s opinion.

    "Aha, okay," Mrs. Cooper said slowly, not quite sure how to take what the man said. "Um, come in, I guess," she added, looking oddly at Bob and Mr. Cooper, who looked equally puzzled.

    "Oh, this is for you," he said, handing the box he was holding to Mrs. Cooper. "It''s cheese and summer sausage."

    "Thank you," Mrs. Cooper said, a little uncomfortable as she took the box.

    "Summer sausage means it doesn''t need to be refrigerated."

    "Is that so?" Mrs. Cooper asked politely.

    "It is," he responded seriously.

    "Well, thank you very much," she said, slightly raising the box in her hands and nodding. "I''ll be right back, please take a seat," she said, forcing a smile as she gestured to the empty chairs in the yard.

    After allowing the older man to pass, Mrs. Cooper quickly walked toward her house, and once out of sight, we heard her call out, "Sheldon!"

    "So, Dr. Sturgis, I presume," I said, smiling at the man who had innocently taken a seat a few chairs away from me, ignoring Mrs. Cooper''s shout.

    "You''d be correct, young man," he replied, smiling broadly.

    "Are you a doctor at the hospital?" Bob asked, seemingly interested in my knowledge of the man.

    "Oh no, I''m a doctor of physics," Dr. Sturgis explained, raising his index finger.

    "Sheldon has told me about you and your interesting discovery of feces," I explained to Bob with a grin, amused by how the man seemed unaware of the unexpected nature of his visit.

    "Oh, so that''s why I didn''t recognize you. We hadn''t met before," Dr. Sturgis said with his innocent smile, relieved. "I thought I''d forgotten you entirely," he explained.

    "Oh, forgive my rudeness, I''m PJ Duncan," I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

    "And I''m Bob Duncan, father of this one. Would you like a beer?" Bob asked the man kindly, patting my shoulder.

    "Oh no, thank you. I rode my bike here," Dr. Sturgis quickly explained, making Bob press his lips together, apparently holding back laughter.

    After Bob, Mr. Cooper, and Gabe, with a nudge from me, introduced themselves to the surprising guest as well.

    At that moment, Mom was in the bathroom, Teddy and Missy were talking about "girl stuff" in my sister''s room, and Georgie, following his father''s instructions, was filling a cooler with ice for the drinks. So there was no one else to introduce the man to.

    "Dr. Sturgis, welcome!" the high-pitched voice of my young friend sounded behind us then. Sheldon arrived with an unusually tense Mrs. Cooper.

    "Thank you, Sheldon," Dr. Sturgis responded with a broad smile.

    "Sheldon, do you think you might have let me know you invited someone over for dinner?" Mrs. Cooper asked, smiling tightly as she leaned slightly toward her son.

    "I did think about it, but I was afraid you might say no," Sheldon explained calmly, ignoring¡ªor likely not understanding¡ªhis mother''s furious look.

    Great strategy, buddy.

    "Come see my train set!" Sheldon quickly turned to Dr. Sturgis, completely ignoring his mother.

    "All right!" Dr. Sturgis said excitedly as he slowly got up, as only a man his age should.

    "PJ, would you mind?" Mrs. Cooper asked, pointing her head in the direction the funny pair had gone, looking slightly embarrassed.

    "Yeah, don''t worry," I said, amused as I stood and followed the boy and the elderly man.

    In the Coopers'' garage, Sheldon was energetically talking to Dr. Sturgis about his model trains. It was quite interesting since Dr. Sturgis seemed genuinely interested in the trains.

    "That''s quite interesting," Dr. Sturgis said after Sheldon presented one of his trains to him, moving closer to look at the train in the boy''s hands.

    "I know," Sheldon replied, smiling. "Would you like to try a test run? We can see how the train works," he asked, probably excited to use his trains in front of someone else.

    "Of course!" Dr. Sturgis exclaimed, raising his hands in excitement.

    "Would you two mind if I joined?" I asked, tapping on the door frame of the Coopers'' garage.

    "Oh, PJ, I have no problem with that," Sheldon declared, looking pointedly at Dr. Sturgis.

    "The more, the merrier," the older man continued with a smile. "I''ve heard your name somewhere," he added a moment later, pointing at me with a calm expression.

    "PJ has some achievements in a branch of science less important than physics¡ªmedicine," Sheldon responded shamelessly while carefully preparing his scale model on the table.

    Well, thank you, Sheldon.

    "Oh yes, you''re the young man who put the university''s name in the acknowledgments for a Nobel Prize," Dr. Sturgis said, smiling widely, as if remembering the detail. "That''s quite an achievement for someone your age."

    "It''s a Nobel in medicine," Sheldon said, downplaying the situation once more.

    "No less impressive for that," Dr. Sturgis reminded the boy, his ever-kind smile unwavering.

    Thank you, doctor.

    "I guess you''re right," Sheldon agreed, nodding slowly, though not fully convinced.

    "I simply helped with the final part of the research. If I''m there alongside the university, it''s thanks to Dr. Thomas''s kindness," I explained calmly.

    "I remember the university president brought all the professors together to talk about it," Dr. Sturgis said, amused, reminiscing. "She seemed nervous about a possible visit from you. The university was incredibly clean for weeks."

    "Oh, I didn''t know that," I admitted, embarrassed. I remembered the president mentioning visiting the university, but I hadn''t scheduled a date. It was more of an open invitation.

    "Fortunately, everything returned to normal," Dr. Sturgis declared, smiling innocently.

    "Glad to hear it," I said, amused, trying not to laugh.

    "And this is the gauge train. The standard gauge train measures four feet, eight and a half inches, which interestingly dates back to Roman times when roads were designed for war chariots, leaving ruts at that distance," Sheldon said, lifting one of his scale models as he tried once again to take over the conversation.

    "Oh, that''s really interesting," Dr. Sturgis said excitedly, immediately changing his attention.

    "It is," Sheldon declared enthusiastically.

    After that, for a few minutes, the only sound in the garage was that of Sheldon''s model train, occasionally whistling, likely when Sheldon had it programmed to.

    "Oh, gauge trains are definitely the best," Dr. Sturgis said after a few minutes of watching the train move on Sheldon''s scale tracks.

    "Oh yes, they are," Sheldon added, nodding.

    "Sure, really cool," feeling slightly pressured, I said a moment later, as both the boy and the older man seemed to be waiting for a comment.

    "Oh, well, what a pleasant surprise," suddenly entering through the garage door, Meemaw said strangely looking like she had just come out of a bath.

    "Oh good," Dr. Sturgis said with a wide smile, "you''re here too" the man added, apparently genuinely surprised by Meemaw''s presence.

    "I am," Meemaw said, smiling slightly uncomfortably surely because of the sudden surprise of Dr. Strugis. "Are y''all about ready for dinner?" she asked, smiling at everyone present, including me.

    "I am," Dr. Sturgis replied immediately, raising his index finger.

    "Well, then, let''s go. Come on, Aces," Meemaw said, walking beside Dr. Sturgis with a slightly forced enthusiasm.

    Getting a bit closer to her, I noticed a smell of chlorine. Her wet hair probably wasn''t from a shower but from swimming in a pool.

    "Meemaw, you smell like chlorine," Sheldon declared shamelessly while walking in front of his Meemaw and Dr. Sturgis.

    "Why say it?" Meemaw asked irritably, giving her grandson a light smack on the back of his head.

    The initially awkward barbecue with the Coopers and Dr. Sturgis slowly turned into a pleasant evening. At first, even though Mr. Cooper and Bob tried to engage the professor in conversation, Sheldon took advantage of the unusual moment of having someone at his "level" in physics.

    In the end, Georgie and I once again handled moving all the heavy things back to their places.

    "What an interesting man," Mom said, chuckling amusedly as we walked back home. "But don''t you think he looks a bit like-"

    "Sheldon, definitely," I said, finishing her sentence. "It''s pretty funny," I added.

    The next day passed like any typical Sunday morning. Gabe, Teddy, and I were watching TV in the living room. Usually, Teddy didn''t join us for cartoons, but for some reason, she decided to sit down to read her magazine, leaning on my arm.

    At that moment, Mom suddenly entered the house; she had been over at the Coopers'' for tea with Mrs. Cooper.

    "Where''s your father?" Mom asked seriously right away.

    "In your room," I replied hesitantly, not actually sure where Bob was.

    Nodding at my answer, Mom walked confidently out of the living room, heading toward her room. She didn''t look upset, but with pregnancy hormones, you never really knew, so Bob could be in trouble.

    A couple of minutes later, Bob, followed closely by Mom, arrived in the living room looking strangely nervous. "Teddy, do you want to go somewhere with me, just you and me?" he asked, casting a quick glance at Mom, who looked proud.

    "What?" Teddy asked, surprised, lifting her head from my arm and shifting her magazine.

    "Wherever you want, we can go to dinner, just the two of us," Bob, now much less nervous, seemingly seeing the positive side of the situation, said more confidently.

    "And why can''t I go?" Gabe asked, offended. He likely wasn''t actually interested in joining Bob and Teddy but felt left out.

    "Don''t be a baby; Dad wants to spend the day with his only daughter," I said, giving my brother a light tap on the head, making him quiet down.

    "Correct. I go fishing with you both every year; I thought it would be a good idea to have a father-daughter date, wherever you want to go, Teddy," Bob said, smiling and much more into the idea.

    "Ok, yeah, sounds fun," Teddy said, smiling slightly, surprised. "Anywhere I want?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

    "Anywhere you want," Bob declared warmly, smiling.

    "Great, could we go shopping in Houston?" Teddy asked quickly, standing up.

    "Shopping in Houston?" Bob exclaimed, concerned. "You know, The Red Lobster is a great restaurant; you could ask Missy," Bob said slowly, tilting his head slightly, trying to persuade my sister.

    "The Red Lobster?" Teddy asked, incredulously.

    "Houston is almost two hours away," Bob added nervously, trying to make his case.

    "Oh, okay, then we can go to The Red Lobster, if you want," Teddy murmured, instantly switching from excited to an exaggeratedly disappointed tone.

    It was impressive how easily Teddy could fake disappointment; surprisingly, her eyes even seemed to fill with a light layer of tears. Still, I could tell it was completely fake.

    "You know what, forget it," Bob said, clearly falling for Teddy''s impressive act right away. "If you want to go shopping, we''ll go shopping," he added resolutely.

    "Thanks, Daddy," Teddy exclaimed excitedly, ending her performance and hugging Bob.

    My teenage sister had played with Bob''s emotions in the palm of her hand; it was quite scary.

    A little while later, Bob and Teddy said goodbye to everyone and set off on their trip.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "Since Teddy and Dad went out, why don''t the three of us do something?" I asked, looking at my mom and brother, who were watching TV with me.

    "Oh, PJ, my feet hurt so much," Mom said, slightly disappointed, turning down my offer.

    With Mom almost eight months pregnant, her ankles were constantly swollen, making it difficult for her to move around easily.

    "Don''t worry, Mom. How about pizza and ice cream?" I quickly suggested, tilting my head slightly to avoid making her feel bad.

    "Oh yeah!" Gabe exclaimed immediately, excited.

    "Sounds great," Mom replied, smiling happily at Gabe. "While you guys go get that, I''m going to take a nap," she added, standing up with some effort.

    "All right, come on, little buddy," I said, gently nudging my brother''s head, prompting him to jump up quickly, excited about what would be our dinner.

    Later that day, after Gabe, Mom, and I had dinner with pizza and ice cream, Teddy returned along with Bob, who was carrying a couple of bags and obviously looked exhausted¡ªan attitude that quickly changed upon finding the leftover pizza and ice cream.

    While Bob dined on now-cold pizza, Mom and Teddy began digging into the bags Teddy had brought with her.

    Gabe, who was the only one sitting next to me on the living room couch, frowned. "What''s so special about clothes?" he asked, watching Mom and Teddy in confusion.

    "I really don''t know," I replied, turning the TV volume up once again and hugging his head.

    The next day, since my punishment had ended, I no longer had to attend detention or the infirmary. But, considering myself a creature of habit, I decided to keep going to the infirmary whenever I could... definitely not because of a constant concern that Gladis might accidentally hurt someone.

    "Hey, I know gas isn''t free, but could you¡ª" Kat was saying as we walked out of school.

    "Sure, let''s go," I interrupted my friend. "Don''t worry."

    "It''s just that I realized I hate the bus," Kat declared, looking at the big yellow bus. "I''m so jealous you get to come in a car. I still have to wait three months to get my license."

    "Sucks for you," I said, grinning sarcastically, immediately dodging Kat''s swats.

    After dropping Kat off, as usual, I drove to the Kingsmans'' to deliver the day''s notes.

    "You just missed him, PJ," Mrs. Kingman said regretfully after greeting me. "He just got back from his run and is taking a bath," she added, raising her voice as if she wanted to announce my presence.

    "Running?" I asked, smiling. "That''s really good; it means he feels more comfortable going out. Soon enough, he''ll be back at school," I said with relief.

    Immediately after hearing my words, Mrs. Kingman frowned with visible sadness, quickly erasing any relief I''d felt.

    "Let''s hope so," Mrs. Kingman said slowly, smiling despite the great sadness I could still see in her eyes.

    "Yeah..." I murmured, weighing the pros and cons of trying to get the truth from her. "Well, I''d better go. Thank you, Mrs. Kingman," I said, forcing a smile.

    "No, thank you, PJ," Mrs. Kingman replied quickly.

    As I drove toward the hospital for my first day back after two weeks, I couldn''t stop thinking about why Mrs. Kingman would be so sad about Brock returning to school.

    Brock might have discussed the idea of leaving school; it wasn''t entirely incongruent. Maybe my friend was planning to keep his situation and be homeschooled. I needed to find him and talk him out of any foolish ideas.

    At the hospital, once again greeting all the nurses I met along the way, I followed the perfectly memorized path in my mind until I reached the diagnostic lounge, where there was no one except House in his office.

    "And the wonder boy makes his triumphant return," House declared dramatically, raising his hands like he''d just scored a field goal.

    "Don''t get too excited; it could be bad for your heart," I said sarcastically, hanging my backpack in its usual spot.

    "Oh, I miss the days when you were afraid of me and showed respect," House said, looking up at the ceiling with mock nostalgia.

    "Yeah, sure, afraid," I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes sarcastically.

    "Oh, you were scared," House declared, grinning widely. "Don''t sit down," he added, stopping my attempt to move one of the free chairs in front of him. "You''ve got a lot of clinic hours to make up for," he added, slowly getting up from his own chair.

    "''I''ve got''?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Well, I do, but by unanimous jury decision, it''s your responsibility," House declared, smiling.

    "The jury, huh?" I asked, incredulous.

    "My cane and I," House responded, lifting his cane as he walked out of his office.

    In reality, apart from not finding any interesting cases, the work in the clinic wasn''t as horrible as House liked to make it seem¡ªit was just boring.

    With House I spent several hours of my day at the clinic, diagnosing dozens of patients with colds. The rest of the day, when House finished his magazines and the battery of his portable console, I spent it again practicing everything I couldn''t do during my punishment.

    In the end, just like before my punishment, I left the hospital and drove straight to the gym.

    With the gym expansion, the ring that had once been disassembled was now in one of the corners, perfectly utilizing space that would otherwise be empty.

    "Stay focused, don''t drop your guard," Case was instructing one of the gym clients while I served as a sparring partner, following orders to use only light boxing. "He''s faster than you, so you have to use the space smartly," he added calmly, as I tried to back away from the corner, throwing a few weak jabs that connected.

    A few seconds later, the bell that Tim and I had installed rang, signaling the end of a three-minute sparring round and the switch to the next exercise for the rest of the clients.

    "Thanks, PJ," the client I''d been sparring with, now completely drenched in sweat, said touching gloves with me as we stepped down the ring to make way for the next pair.

    "Don''t mention it," I said, patting the incredibly sweaty man''s shoulder with a smile.

    "Go to the heavy bag and catch your breath; you and I are going in ten," Case said seriously, clapping to signal the two new sparring partners to start.

    "Sure," I replied trying not to look nervous while wiping the light layer of sweat from my face, beginning to mentally prepare for ''fighting'' Case.

    I walked over to one of the bags that Case had handmade, basically one of the potato sacks that either Tim or I had given him as payment, filled with tiny stones that served to toughen up knees, elbows, and knuckles.

    Since the gym reopened, a large part of my training time had been spent on sparring. I didn''t know why Case had suddenly decided to change my training so radically, but I''d now sparred with almost every client in the gym, not counting Tim and Case, who were my most frequent partners.

    Before I realized it, the automated bell rang once more.

    "Let''s go, PJ," Case said, clapping loudly before putting on his fingerless gloves that offered almost no protection.

    Sighing, I nodded and walked toward the ring, ready for the next fifteen minutes of trying to counter Case''s punches and kicks while defending myself.

    On the ring, like every time I sparred with Case, I could see the other people in the gym paying less attention to their own activities to watch Case hit me. Even Tim crossed his arms getting closer to the ring than the other people to watch our ''fight.''

    My suffering had become a spectacle for people to pass their rest breaks.

    At least now people weren''t betting, everyone here knew what the outcome would be.

    Days like that went by.

    In the middle of the week, after dropping Kat off at her house as I did every day, I quickly arrived at the Kingman house.

    Taking the papers with my notes for my friend, I got out of ''Debbie,'' accidentally dropping one of the pages, which floated gently on the breeze.

    Taking a few steps along the sidewalk to retrieve it, I bent down and lightly shook off the page as I picked it up.

    When I straightened up, I saw Brock on the same sidewalk far away from me, staring me wide-eyed and clearly surprised. In a surprisingly quick movement he turned around quickly starting to jog in the opposite direction, clearly intending to flee.

    "Oh no, you won''t!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, throwing all my notes to the ground and running quickly after him. He was quite a distance ahead of me, but that wasn''t a problem¡ªI was much faster than him.

    Opening my approach angle to get a perfect tackle on one of the lawns in the Kingman family''s neighborhood, I collided with my sweaty friend with force.

    "Stop, you idiot!" I shouted angrily, locking Brock''s arm in a practiced armbar move. "Stop struggling!" I tightened the hold with my legs across his chest, feeling him try to break free with brute strength but without success¡ªTim was way stronger.

    "Ok, ok, let go of me," Brock finally said after a few more seconds of struggling, while I just held him in place, making sure not to hurt his shoulder.

    "Don''t try to run, or I promise it''ll hurt next time," I warned seriously, letting go of his wrist and quickly moving off of my now-exhausted friend, worn out from the physical effort of restraining him.

    "What the hell was that?" Brock asked, lying next to me, out of breath.

    "An armbar. I could have dislocated your shoulder," I replied while lying on the grass in a nearby lawn, visibly worrying my friend. "But I didn''t, so you''re welcome," I added with a mischievous smile.

    "Yeah, thanks," Brock said with an exasperated sigh, making me chuckle.

    No wait, "no, no laughing," I said, hitting Brock''s shoulder with some force. "Three weeks, almost four, and I have to hunt you down outside your house?" I asked, annoyed.

    "I''m sorry," Brock replied, rubbing his shoulder. "I was embarrassed," he added a moment later.

    "Because I saw your penis?" I asked bluntly, visibly embarrassing Brock. "I''ve got news for you, idiot¡ªI''ve seen more penises in my life than I''d like, between cadavers, living people, and even newborns. Someday I''ll be a doctor; that''s my everyday job."

    Really?, I''d heard more about boobs and butts from Brock, David, and Georgie in recent months than ever, and he''s embarrassed by the mention of penises?

    "It''s not about... that," Brock replied, clearly uncomfortable, covering his face with his hands.

    "Then what?" I asked exasperatedly, throwing my hands up. If I wasn''t so frustrated by my friend not wanting to see me all this time, I''d be enjoying lying on the grass.

    "I treated you all, my real friends, like trash for days," Brock finally said. "I couldn''t face you, knowing I didn''t deserve your friendship."

    "Deserve?" I scoffed. "You don''t have to ''deserve'' anything; I''m your friend because I decided to be. I didn''t come here every day for over three weeks to hear that nonsense," I declared incredulously. "You may have messed up¡ªbig deal. I forgive you," I added, exhausted.

    "You don''t understand; I was being selfish," Brock admitted, embarrassed.

    "Selfish?" I asked dryly, scoffing once more.

    "Yeah, I thought that by hanging out with Smith and Johnson, I''d finally get noticed by other people," Brock added, still covering his face with his hands. "And it worked," he continued, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm.

    "Get noticed?" I asked, puzzled, not understanding what he meant.

    "I can''t believe you''re so smart but so oblivious about other things," Brock replied, sighing bitterly. "Being with you and Alan felt like we were background characters or something," he explained, raising his hands. "Everyone''s always focused on what you do or say, like you''re the main character," he said, exhaling in relief. "With Smith and Johnson people saw me... now I realize they looked at me with disgust."

    "Oh, don''t say that; I doubt anyone looked at you with disgust," I said slowly, worried about my friend''s emotional well-being.

    "No, I mean it. I thought that smoking under the bleachers while the cheerleading team practiced made me look cool and mysterious, like Alan. But in reality I was just a creep," Brock admitted slowly.

    "Come on, you''re not a creep¡ªjust a normal guy with normal needs," I said, trying to change Brock''s self-image.

    "Maybe, but I didn''t express it the way I should have," Brock declared, clearly disappointed in himself.

    "Yeah, you didn''t, but I guarantee you can fix it. Just avoid repeating it, and you''ll be fine. Kat doesn''t think you''re a creep, and I don''t trust anyone''s opinion in school more than hers."

    "Maybe you''re right, though we''ll never know," Brock said, sitting up on the grass.

    "Oh, don''t be pessimistic. You just have to go back to school and be more respectful to the girls¡ªa gentleman," I said with a grin.

    "I''m not going back to school, PJ," After a moment of silence and looking into the distance, Brock replied seriously looking at me from his higher position now that he was sitting.

    "What?" I asked incredulously.

    I couldn''t believe that he actually wanted to be homeschooled, or worse, drop out of school.

    "At least not in Medford," Brock said, lowering his head slightly. "This spring break, I''m going to Boston with my uncle. I''m moving," my friend continued, obviously sad.

    After Brock''s words, the front yard of the stranger''s house fell completely silent.

    "Oh, not again, first Alan and now you?" I finally said, breaking the silence after processing my friend''s words.

    "I''m sorry, I can''t go back to school¡ªnot after what happened," Brock declared sadly.

    "Oh yes, you can. No one will dare say anything to you, I promise," I quickly replied, making Brock snort, breaking the somber mood for a moment.

    "I heard what you did to those two idiots. I would have paid to see it," Brock said, lying down once again beside me. "Thank you, PJ, but the silence will only last while you''re around, and I don''t want to have to hide behind you my entire school life."

    "And what about your parents?" Understanding my friend''s point, I quickly asked, trying another angle.

    "They weren''t entirely convinced, but my uncle Kevin managed to convince them," Brock replied, smiling slightly. "I''ll come back for every vacation and call daily. It''ll be like an exchange."

    "Is this what you truly want?" I asked slowly, defeated by seeing how determined my friend seemed.

    "Yeah, it''ll be like a second chance¡ªnot many people get one. I have to take it," Brock declared calmly.

    "I understand," I said, with more meaning than Brock could know.

    I lay beside Brock in the front yard of that stranger''s house for many minutes.

    "I need to go shower," Brock said suddenly after sniffing a couple of times.

    "Yeah, you reek of sweat," I said, amused, standing up beside my friend.

    "I even use cologne now," Brock declared proudly, slightly tilting his head as we walked down the sidewalk towards his house and where my car was parked.

    "That''s always a smart decision," I said, nodding proudly at my friend.

    "Who knows, with my new life, in a couple of years, I might be irresistible to women," Brock declared, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

    "Well, when that happens, don''t forget to use protection," I declared jokingly.

    "Oh yeah," Brock replied, envisioning his future excitedly.

    "Hey, we still have five days until spring break starts. Let''s have some fun. We could go to Houston," I said, smiling broadly just a couple of houses away from my friend''s house. "Even if I have to drag you, we''ll go¡ªall of us: David, Georgie, you, and me," I added, wrapping my friend''s shoulder tightly.

    "Sure," Brock replied, slightly lowering his head, a big smile on his face.

    "Great," I said. "Hey, Mrs. Kingman," I called out as we arrived at my friend''s house. His mother was in the yard, smiling broadly as she watched Brock and me walking towards her. "I dropped some papers on the ground," I said, embarrassed, looking at my notes scattered across her yard.

    "Don''t worry about it," Mrs. Kingman replied slowly, clearly struggling to hold back tears.

    "I''m back, Mom," Brock said, smiling at his mother as he helped me pick up the papers.

    "I know," Mrs. Kingman replied, losing her effort as she tried to keep her voice steady while letting her tears flow, which I quickly avoided looking at out of respect for her struggle.

    The new Brock was strange, much more mature after these weeks of possible reflection¡ª not in a bad way.

    With David and Georgie, who gave Brock a hard time for avoiding us those past weeks, we spent the remaining days before spring break driving ''Debbie'' not only to Houston but to various cities across the state, doing whatever we could find that was fun.

    By Sunday, the beginning of spring break, Brock was in his dad''s truck, headed to Boston with all his things packed.

    "Are you okay?" Mom asked, sitting down on the couch after I came back from saying goodbye to Brock with David and Georgie.

    "Yeah, don''t worry," I assured her with a smile.

    "All right," Mom said, moving to stand up. "Oh," she exclaimed stopping suddenly and dropping back onto the couch holding her rounded pregnant belly.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked, immediately worried and ready to help her.

    "Do you feel it?" She grabbed my wrist and quickly placed it on her pregnant belly.

    My worry immediately faded as I focused entirely on the palm of my hand. "Yes," I murmured, afraid of startling my little brother or sister.

    "That''s your big brother PJ," Mom suddenly said, speaking directly to her belly. "Come on, talk to him," she added, smiling at me.

    "Hey, I''m PJ," I said awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

    "Go on," Mom insisted.

    "As Mom said, I''m your big brother," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "I''m really excited to meet you," I added, and in that moment, I felt another strong movement in Mom''s belly.

    "Looks like someone else is excited to meet you, PJ," Mom said, smiling sweetly as she rubbed her belly.

    Yeah, I was fine.

    The next day, despite it being vacation, I went out for my daily run early in the morning, though later than usual.

    As I passed the Sparks'' house, across from the Coopers'', I saw Sheldon on a small bike with training wheels and a red cart full of newspapers behind him.

    "Sheldon?" I asked, surprised to see the child working.

    "Oh, PJ, good morning. Off for your morning run, I see," Sheldon said formally, wearing Georgie''s helmet even though he was going extremely slowly on the bike.

    "Good morning to you too. Are you delivering newspapers?" I asked, confused, pointing out the obvious.

    "Yes, I have a $200 debt to my father," Sheldon explained, getting off his bike to grab a newspaper from his cart.

    "Oh yeah, Georgie told me about that¡ªyou disassembled the fridge at your house," I said, amused.

    "Correct. Wait a moment," Sheldon said, preparing to throw the newspaper. After what seemed like several warm-up attempts for his arm, Sheldon finally threw the newspaper, landing just a few steps away.

    "Great throw," I said, unable to hold back a slight laugh.

    "I''d better deliver it to the door. See you later, PJ," Sheldon said, removing his brother''s helmet and setting it on the pile of newspapers in his cart as he picked up the newspaper from the ground.

    "All right, good luck, buddy," I said, smiling at the boy as I resumed my run with a light jog.

    A few houses down, I saw Mrs. Cooper sitting in her car, obviously watching over her son.

    The rest of spring break passed without much change, except for not having to go to school. Teddy and Gabe constantly wanted to go out, a welcome change in my usual activities.

    On Saturday, shortly after the morning, there was a knock on the door. "Don''t get up, shorty. I''ll get it," I said sarcastically, pushing Gabe''s head as he was watching TV, completely absorbed.

    "Move out!" Gabe shouted eagerly as I passed in front of him.

    "Hey, Sheldon," I said, opening the door to find a visibly exhausted Sheldon. "What''s up, buddy?" I asked.

    "I noticed you haven''t washed your car as you usually do every two weeks," Sheldon said, stretching his back. "I was wondering if you''d be willing to pay me a fair remuneration for doing it for you," he added, raising one eyebrow.

    "A fair remuneration?" I asked, amused. "How much are we talking about?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

    "How about ten dollars?" Sheldon asked nervously, pursing his lips.

    "All right, sounds fair," I said after a few seconds of silence, amused by the boy''s anticipation.

    "Ten dollars?" Apparently able to hear what interests him, Gabe asked incredulously from the sofa in the living room.

    "Want to help? You could split the money," I suggested, seeing Sheldon immediately frown.

    "Nah, vacation''s almost over," Gabe replied after thinking for a few seconds.

    I knew it.

    "Suit yourself," I said, smiling at the back of my brother''s head. "Do you need the supplies for washing it?" I asked, turning back to Sheldon.

    "Yes, please," Sheldon replied seriously.

    That day, Sheldon took four hours to finish washing my car on his own. The kid had done an impeccable job.

    "Here''s twenty, Sheldon," I said, feeling that ten wouldn''t be fair at all. Impressed, I handed him a bill, which he accepted with utter astonishment.

    "Really?" Sheldon asked incredulously.

    Even noticing how I was reflected in the leather of the seats, I nodded in shock, causing the child to look proudly at the bill.

    With the return to school, knowing Brock would never come back¡ªunlike when I thought there was still a chance¡ªwas a strange feeling in the first few days.

    David and Georgie were also my dear friends, friend who had their own conversations on genuinely repetitive topics fortunately, Kat and her friend, now that our table was a little emptier, took the opportunity to sit with us, causing Georgie and David''s conversations to tone down... just for a couple of days.

    On Friday at home after training with Case, "Apparently in Sheldon''s advanced classes, there''s another younger person attending¡ªanother genius like Sheldon," Mom told me really excited during dinner.

    "Really? And how did Sheldon take it?" I asked, amused, imagining Sheldon''s reaction to someone rivaling his intellect.

    "Oh, I don''t know, but probably well," Mom replied, clearly not knowing Sheldon fully. "Mary was very excited and asked if you could go tomorrow," she continued.

    "Me? Why?" I asked, puzzled as I cut my food.

    "As a sort of mediator, while Mary and George talks with the other parents, you can help Sheldon and the other genius get along." Mom explained with a smile, as if recalling her conversation with Mrs. Cooper.

    "Mediator why me, I''m not as smart as Shelond?" I asked, without fully understanding my role.

    "Oh it''s because the girl is your age."

    ---

    -Because you''re going to need it to be suspended on this cliffhanger.

    See you next week :D

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 79

    In this chapter there is a big change in the Young Sheldon series, I''m cooking (at least I try) so please bear with me.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "My age?" I asked, surprised.

    "I think you might be a year younger; I''m not really sure," Mom explained.

    "Uhh, Mrs. Cooper set you up on a blind date," Teddy, who had been listening to my conversation with Mom with great interest, said playfully, with a hint of teasing.

    "Yeah, sure, a date" I said sarcastically, "I''m going to listen to Sheldon talking with someone just as smart as him, that''s really romantic," I added exaggeratedly smiling at my sister.

    "Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun," Gabe said smiling mockingly towards me.

    "So, are you going?" ignoring Gabe, Mom asked, strangely excited.

    "Sure," I answered easily; Sheldon''s reaction might be entertaining.

    After dinner, sitting on the living room sofa, Mom called Mrs. Cooper to let her know I had accepted her invitation and to chat about other things, including neighborhood gossip.

    With her maternity leave just beginning after spring break, Mom didn''t have much to do around the house. She was quickly getting bored, but with her large belly, she couldn''t do much, so her only escape was to talk, whether on the phone or in person, with Mrs. Cooper.

    The next day, with plenty of time before heading to the Coopers'' house, I continued with my regular day, going for my morning run later than usual in the week. I took Teddy to the Baja House and helped Mom with her fifth attempt that week to rearrange the living room furniture.

    "Here?" I asked, tired, after pushing one of the living room sofas a few steps.

    "You know what..." with one hand on her chin, Mom said slowly, "I think I liked it better where it was before," a moment later she admitted, slightly embarrassed, as she scratched the side of her face.

    "So, where it was originally" I murmured, "All right," defeated I nodded, as I set to work once again.

    "Yes, I love it this way," Mom said, pausing to look at the room, smiling.

    "I''m glad," I said, forcing a smile back at her as I collapsed into the comfortable sofa.

    After nearly an hour of moving the chairs into different arrangements, rearranging the coffee table, and even shifting the TV, following Mom''s orders, with this last sofa I had slowly put everything back as it was before we started, it wouldn''t be long before Mom wanted to rearrange everything again.

    Checking my watch, my break had to end, unfortunately. "I''m going to the Coopers'' house," I said, slowly standing up.

    Mom listening to my words quickly checked her own watch.

    "Oh yeah, go, it''s late," she said, pushing me slightly, still strangely excited.

    "It''s only two minutes past the time Mrs. Cooper told you," I said, surprised, looking at Mom. I really wasn''t that late.

    "Late!" she declared, exasperated, opening the front door. "Have fun at your meeting," she said, pushing me out of the house, still excited. "My son, the genius," she murmured excitedly before closing the door in my face.

    Oh, I see what''s going on here.

    Amused by Mom''s excitement that Mrs. Cooper had invited me to a ''genius kids'' gathering,'' I walked to the Coopers'' house.

    "PJ! Please, come in," Mrs. Cooper said, radiating joy as she opened her door a few moments after I knocked.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Cooper, you look especially radiant today," I said, smiling at her, making her laugh in embarrassment.

    "Always the flatterer," Mrs. Cooper said, smiling widely as she guided me through her house.

    Soon we reached the entrance of the Coopers'' living room. There, next to Mr. Cooper, who looked uncomfortable with a beer in hand, was a couple¡ªa man with a strange, seemingly brand-new cowboy outfit and a blonde woman sitting surprisingly upright, also looking somewhat uncomfortable.

    "PJ, let me introduce you," Mrs. Cooper said, smiling at the unusual couple. "This is Evelyn Adler and her husband, Hank Summers."

    "Nice to meet you, I''m PJ Duncan," I said, smiling as I introduced myself.

    "Howdy," Mr. Summers said in a completely forced Southern accent, tipping his brand-new hat in greeting. Mr. Cooper awkwardly took a swig of his beer, while Mrs. Adler tilted her head slightly, revealing the reason for the discomfort.

    "Oh, I''ve heard about you. You made a significant contribution to last year''s Nobel Prize-winning medical paper," Mrs. Adler said with a strong British accent, recognizing my name immediately. "The prodigy of medicine," she added with a touch of theatrics.

    "I wouldn''t call it significant," I said, slightly embarrassed. "I was included in the acknowledgments thanks to Dr. Thomas''s incredibly kind heart."

    "Oh, don''t be modest," Mrs. Cooper said, patting my shoulder lightly. "PJ was published in a major Texas newspaper," she said, her eyes widening with excitement. "He even works at the hospital after school."

    "You''re still attending high school despite your achievements?" Mrs. Adler asked incredulously.

    "Oh yeah, I really enjoy going to school. My friends are there," I replied easily, recognizing in her another possible case like Dr. Grey.

    "Besides Sheldon, PJ is also a great friend of my eldest, Georgie," Mrs. Cooper said, smiling at me.

    "Well, I hope you get along with Diane. She doesn''t always have the chance to meet someone excellent in their own field who are the same age," Mrs. Adler said, with her pronounced British accent, looking at me intently, her brow slightly furrowed.

    "Of course," I replied, a bit uncomfortable under the Englishwoman''s penetrating gaze, not sure what else to say.

    "Oh, that''s right," Mrs. Cooper exclaimed, raising her hands as if she''d just remembered the reason I was there. "Diane and Shelly are in his room," she added.

    After saying goodbye with a small nod I walked to Sheldon''s room, while walking I could still feel Mrs. Adler''s strange gaze lingering on my back.

    The door to Sheldon and Missy''s room was wide open allowing me to see who was inside and what was happening.

    In the middle of the room, with a small table set up with a chess game in progress, was Sheldon, sitting on his bed with a big frown, right in front of Sheldon, in Missy''s bed, was a girl with her side towards me, like Mrs. Adler completely straight despite not having any back support, and with the straightest blonde hair I''d ever seen, playing with the kid.

    Knocking on the door frame to announce my presence, I stepped in. My action immediately caught the attention of the other two people in the room.

    "Ah, PJ," Sheldon, facing me, greeted me warmly.

    "Hey Sheldon," I nodded at him, returning his greeting.

    After greeting my young friend, I focused on the other person in the room.

    Facing me, completely expressionless, with large round-frame glasses, ''Diane'' seemed to glow for some strange reason, possibly due to the way the light entered the room at that moment.

    She was really pretty.

    "Oh, how rude of me," Sheldon said, breaking an odd silence that I wasn''t sure how long had lasted. "PJ, this is Diane Adler. She was invited to the university to give a lecture on advances in the Navier-Stokes problem, one of the Millennium Prize Problems," he added formally, to my disappointment, apparently not reacting as I''d expected when someone as gifted as him was around.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    "A pleasure to meet you, PJ Duncan," I said, extending my hand, expecting a handshake, smiling at her, but she immediately avoided eye contact.

    "Likewise," Diane replied, adjusting her glasses with the sleeve of her sweater, without shaking my hand.

    "All right," I said slowly, lowering my hand awkwardly, nodding.

    Possibly like Sheldon, Diane might have some level of germophobia.

    "So, Navier-Stokes¡ªremind me which one that is?" I asked, still awkwardly smiling. Throughout my studies, I''d obviously read about the seven Millennium Prize Problems, supposedly so challenging that institutions were willing to pay a large sum to anyone who solved any of them.

    Being such difficult problems, I''d never really paid much attention to them, not really being of my interest.

    "It''s about the existence and uniqueness of solutions for the Navier-Stokes equations," Sheldon answered immediately, as if it were a quiz, not fully clarifying my question.

    "Got it," I said sarcastically, smiling at Sheldon, amused by the child''s innocence.

    "They''re a set of partial differential equations that represent the conservation of momentum, mass, and energy in a fluid," Diane quickly explained, looking up and making eye contact for the second time since I''d entered the room, evidently excited when talking about it.

    "Really?, it sounds interesting," I said, smiling once more at the girl, mildly amused by her excitement when talking about her interests.

    "It is," Diane replied, quickly calming her sudden excitement and, somewhat embarrassed, avoiding eye contact once again.

    "It''s an interesting topic, though not as much as black holes, but still not too bad," Sheldon declared with a slightly arrogant expression as he moved a piece on the board, acting a bit more like I expected him to act.

    "Bad move," I said, shaking my head slightly. After the slightly embarrassing moment of staring at the uncomfortable girl, I''d studied the board on the table. I''d played hundreds of games against Case, and the move my little friend had just made led into a trap that Case often used.

    "What?" Sheldon asked, incredulous, snapping his attention back to the pieces on the board just as Diane made her next move.

    "Checkmate in six," Diane said calmly, making Sheldon frown even more as he stared at the board, surely calculating any number of possible moves in his head.

    "So, you were invited to give a lecture?" I asked, letting Sheldon focus on the board and attempting once again to start a conversation with the awkward girl.

    "Yeah," Diane answered, looking at anything in the Cooper kids'' room except me. "I have a master''s degree from MIT, and part of my responsibilities is giving some seminars nationally," she continued, glancing briefly at me.

    "A master''s degree in math?" I asked, surprised. "At what, fifteen?" I added, sitting down next to Sheldon, who was still staring at the board on the little table.

    "I got my master''s when I was ten," Diane replied, a little nervous looking at me as it was now almost impossible to avoid eye contact since I''d practically sat in front of her field of vision.

    "What?" Sheldon exclaimed, snapping out of his chess trance. "At ten years old?" he asked with a look of concern.

    Yeah, this was what I expected.

    "Yes, when I was nine, I helped win the international math olympiad team, so my mother introduced me to Dr. Shankland, who helped me get my degree," Diane explained calmly.

    Hearing Diane''s words, Sheldon lowered his head slightly, lost in thought.

    It was impressive to see him worried about not having a master''s degree at his age. Sheldon and Missy had turned ten just under a month ago.

    "Now I understand why you don''t watch television," Sheldon finally said slowly after a few seconds. "Your commitment is much greater than mine," he added solemnly, making Diane nod slightly.

    "Wait, you don''t watch TV?" I asked, surprised, receiving a very unapologetic shake of her head. "Not even once?" I asked again, incredulous.

    "Well, sometimes Hank watches the news in the morning," Diane replied, adjusting her glasses with her wrist covered by her sweater.

    "What about music, movies, any sports?" I asked quickly, once again receiving negatives from the girl. I understood now how Kat and my friends felt with my lack of knowledge in pop culture. At least I had a relatively normal childhood. "So what do you do in your free time when you''re not studying math?" I asked, concerned, knowing firsthand that this wasn''t a healthy lifestyle.

    My question seemed to surprise the girl, making her stop to think.

    "I don''t know," Diane said, raising her shoulders and appearing truly puzzled. "We have a big library at home, so I have plenty of books."

    "So just reading?" I asked, slightly frowning with concern, really understanding that kind of life.

    "Well, when it''s not winter, I enjoy going to the beach," she replied, slightly frowning as if trying to figure out if that was the answer I was looking for.

    That''s good, but not entirely.

    "Have you ever wanted to try something else?" I asked, feeling a bit of pity for Diane. "Go out with friends?"

    "I don''t have a lot of friends," Diane admitted, pressing her lips together, slightly embarrassed.

    I don''t believe she had any.

    "My mom says I have a really important destiny and it''s my responsibility to fulfill it. She trusts me to solve Navier-Stokes, so I don''t have much time to waste," Diane replied with a barely visible sadness in her eyes.

    These past few months, that contrary to when I was obsessed with studies, taught me that my previous way of life was a total waste.

    What I used to see as a waste of time, I now appreciate¡ªmovies, cartoons, music, sports, outdoor activities, art, having a milkshake with friends, go to parties, reading a comic, bothering my siblings, and many other things are now an essential part of my life.

    Feeling the responsibility to do for someone else what everyone in my new life did for me, I said, "That won''t work." Shaking my head, I declared seriously, capturing the girl''s attention as she looked at me, concerned. "I''ve decided¡ªI''m going to show you what made me fall in love with life; there''s more than just fulfilling responsibilities," I said, looking at Diane intently.

    After a moment of silence, honestly, an uncomfortable one, "I have to improve my personal studies. I can''t fall behind forever; will I get my degree at fifteen? Worse, at twenty?" Sheldon asked, seemingly completely unaware of my strange declaration to the girl we both had just met, me even more briefly than him.

    "Yeah, just don''t overdo it; it''s not good for your health," I said, patting Sheldon lightly on the shoulder, avoiding looking at Diane, who seemed to be in a bit of a trance, her mouth slightly open.

    Reflecting on how I''d made my declaration, I realized I could have explained it better. "How long will you be in Medford?" I asked Diane, deciding to ignore the embarrassment of having said what I did.

    "I was invited for the rest of the week," Diane answered immediately, biting her lip slightly, as if snapping out of the small trance she was in.

    "Then let''s do an experiment" I declared with confidence, "this week I''ll show you that living your life isn''t ''wasting time,'' and if it doesn''t work, I won''t bother you anymore; I promise" I seriously added. "Every day, I''ll introduce you to things completely different from studying math, it will only take a couple of hours each day".

    Although Diane still maintained a surprisingly stoic expression, I could see interest shining in her eyes.

    "So, do you want to find amazing things to do with me?" I asked, smiling, for some strange reason excited.

    "Oh, are you planning to do something exciting?" Sheldon asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. "I just happened to know about a lecture at Rice University called ''What''s Happening at the Center of Our Galaxy,''" he said suggestively.

    "Thanks, Sheldon, but I was thinking more about listening to music at the mall''s record store or playing mini-golf, you know, outside," I said, smiling meaningfully at my little friend, waiting for his reaction.

    "Oh, don''t count me in on your plans, then. Outdoors? And getting attacked by a bird?" Sheldon immediately shook his head forcefully, thoroughly disgusted.

    Sheldon''s reaction wasn''t just funny to me. For the first time since I''d entered the room, Diane let out a slight chuckle, covering her smile with the side of her hand.

    I hadn''t even started showing her the true beauty of life, and somehow she was already discovering it for herself.

    ---

    Final Note (A huge note related to ''Diane Adler'' ¨C it''s not absolutely necessary to read this).

    As I mentioned in the first note, there''s a big continuity change in Young Sheldon. Since I started writing this novel, this was planned so, as in TBBT, there is no character named Paige Swanson now.

    I realize that someone might not understand what''s going on in this note.

    To explain, I''d first like to say I''m a bit scared of Victor_Venegas; it seems like he has security cameras in my house or somehow gained access to my super-secret notes (I have a .txt file with the general outline of the novel all the way to the end).

    Diane Adler, as well as Evelyn Adler, are characters from a movie starring Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (the same actress who plays Paige Swanson in Young Sheldon, so I think everyone can see where the idea of mixing these worlds came from) called ''Gifted'' (a movie I''ve watched at least 10 times in the past few months, xD).

    Now in the movie, the character Diane Adler (who only appears in photos) is "played" by a model who is uncredited¡ªor at least I haven''t been able to find any credits for her o I had the idea of ??having Diane ''played'' by someone else.

    Somehow, my TikTok algorithm discovered that I was watching this movie repeatedly and started showing me videos about it, among these videos, there was an edit showing the resemblance between McKenna Grace and¡­ Kiernan Shipka (the main actress in Chilling Adventures of Sabrina), so I decided that, in my mind, Diane Adler would be played by Kiernan Shipka, specifically with her look from Twisters. (Just an idea for those who need to visualize the characters.)

    As you can imagine, this new character represents the next step in the romantic part of this story, and as I said at the beginning of this novel, this was born as a method of ''practice'' for writing, today I enjoy it a lot and I almost no longer take it as what it was born as, but I know that I have a LOT, to improve, and I don''t know any other way than trial and error.

    I''ve read dozens of romance books and all of them are from a woman''s POV (which isn''t a problem for me), few are from a man''s POV which unfortunately almost always lack romance (yes, I''m not ashamed to admit it, I enjoy a good real love story, with feelings and all that) which makes it a bit difficult for me to try to write without using cliches that I''ve read in all these books but now ''inverted'', so I apologize as it may be difficult to read if you''re not adept at reading these types of stories.

    I can imagine that for the ''alpha male'' extremists who reject the whole idea of ??a man having feelings (outside of hatred or superiority in manhood, if that somehow counts as feelings) reading a ''Slice of life'' story with romance might be bothered. For you, yes, there will be chapters focused entirely on it (romance) and many others not. With this I hope you understand that yes, the story is a slice of life, but that doesn''t mean I''m leaving out something as important in life as love.

    500 words of note, sorry.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I''m not Magnus Carlsen.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 80

    Note

    Eighty chapters into my first attempt at writing, over 350k words, and a story that still has a long way to go (no, seriously, I checked the word count and surprised myself¡ªby the time I finish the novel, will I have written over a million words?).

    To wrap up this note, I want to thank everyone who reads this every week. We''re almost at 100 chapters and in the final stretch of volume 1.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    The rest of the time, it gradually became easier to talk to Diane¡ªthings about her home in Boston, her classes at MIT, her brother who was homeschooled and whom I deduced was at that moment with Missy and Georgie, wherever they were, her mother, who, like her, was a mathematician, her stepfather, who was wealthy and had an odd fascination with southern culture, cowboys, and ranches, among many other things as the hours passed, I learned a lot about the girl''s not very varied life.

    As she had claimed, Diane beat Sheldon in their chess game after only six moves, something that again affected the boy for several minutes; not being the "smartest" in the room was a huge shock for him.

    During the time Sheldon took to accept his chess loss, staring intently at the board and surely replaying the entire game in his mind, I took the opportunity to talk to Diane, this time about my life. She had never attended a high school, so she was completely absorbed in my friends'' funny stories, my narrations of games, what I did at the hospital, and my training with Case.

    Obviously, there were many things I left out; I didn''t feel comfortable talking about Regina or the fight, nor about Alan and Brock, who had gone their separate ways.

    When he snapped out of his trance, even Sheldon, with a bit of encouragement from me, slowly came around to talk about his life. I hoped this would help Diane understand that even gifted people like them could have a relatively "normal" life.

    "Really?" Diane asked Sheldon, now with a barely visible smile constantly on her face.

    "Oh yeah, I systematically overcame my dog phobia. PJ was there¡ªhe can confirm it," Sheldon said proudly.

    "He was quite brave," I declared, amused, sharing a small smile with Diane, which made Sheldon puff up his chest even more proudly.

    "That''s impressive, Sheldon, a really smart way to use systematic desensitization" the girl kindly said to him, and he nodded with vanity. "I myself am afraid of the ocean; I should learn from you and try to overcome it."

    "You''re afraid of the ocean?" I asked incredulously. "But you said you enjoyed going to the beach."

    "I stay on the sand," Diane with complete tranquility in her words replied.

    "I get it; I can''t stand the idea of entering a place at the mercy of thousands of marine species. Though unlike you, I would never set foot on a public beach; they''re really dirty," Sheldon declared, nodding seriously.

    "Usually, the fish are more afraid of you than you are of them buddy. I assure you it''s almost impossible for a fish to approach you," I assured him, partly to reassure Diane as well, though I didn''t have much access to the ocean to help her overcome her fear.

    "It''s not about the animals," Diane explained, noticing the implication in my words. "Even though there''s an estimate of over two hundred and thirty thousand different species of marine organisms, including fish, marine mammals, invertebrates, and other groups," she said with a sparkle of enthusiasm in her eyes, making Sheldon nod in distaste.

    I had noticed that whenever she got the chance, Diane had many facts memorized that, like Sheldon, she seemed inclined to share enthusiastically. However, somehow it was much less annoying than Sheldon, possibly because of the reason behind sharing it.

    Sheldon did it to show he was smarter; Diane was excited to share something she knew.

    "What actually happens is that I don''t know how to swim," Diane continued, this time slightly embarrassed.

    That was much easier to fix.

    "I don''t blame you for not wanting to swim; it''s an unpleasant thing. My Meemaw came back smelling of chlorine a few days ago because she went swimming in public pools, and that''s not even the worst part. On average, there could be between thirty to seventy liters of urine in a regulation-size pool," Sheldon said, frowning in disgust.

    Sheldon''s disgusted statement once again made me chuckle, and as I exchanged glances with Diane, I noticed her smile became much more visible as she saw my reaction, likely as amused as I was.

    Time passed incredibly quickly; after another two lost chess games on Sheldon''s part, entirely at the boy''s insistence, I offered to play against him so he wouldn''t suffer emotional damage.

    "How are you so good?" A few minutes later Sheldon asked, frowning as he stared at the board in front of him, frustrated.

    Somehow, what at least the little boy and I expected to be games completely dominated by him, turned out to be quite intense games. After many minutes, Sheldon and I had won one game each, this being the tiebreaker, and with how things were going, I was sure this game was mine.

    Before I could respond with some bad joke, the bedroom door frame was tapped, catching everyone''s attention.

    "Diane, honey, it''s time to go. Your parents are waiting for you," Mrs. Cooper said, stopping in the doorway with a smile, though her eyes showed a certain sadness.

    "Oh," Diane murmured with some apprehension, quickly standing up.

    When I offered to play against Sheldon, I sat beside the girl on the bed, which obviously, with all the stuffed animals on it, belonged to Missy. At first, there was a small distance between us, but without realizing it, we had slowly moved closer, and by the end, our arms were completely pressed together.

    When Diane stood up, I could still feel the warmth from the side of her much smaller body on my arm.

    "I''ll walk you out," I said, standing up right behind Diane, smiling at her, who suddenly, just like when I first arrived at the room, quickly avoided my gaze.

    "You too, Sheldon, come say goodbye," Mrs. Cooper said seriously to her son, who was once again completely focused on the board in front of him. That made him grumble but slowly stand up.

    As we left the twins'' room and walked down the hall toward the Cooper family''s foyer, Mrs. Cooper kept turning her head, smiling at me significantly, obviously getting ideas in her head.

    On the Cooper porch were Mr. Cooper, happily chatting with Mr. Summers, and Mrs. Adler, who was simply standing there, smiling politely.

    "Diane, we need to go; you have a study session in ten minutes," Mrs. Adler said, smiling at her daughter with a strange sweetness.

    "Yes, Mom," Diane said, nodding as she walked over to her stepfather and mother. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper," she added, completely different from the slightly open Diane, her face now completely void of emotion as she nodded to the Cooper couple.

    "Oh, it was a pleasure meeting you, Diane; you''re welcome anytime honey," Mrs. Cooper said with much more meaning behind her words, smiling sweetly at Diane.

    "Sheldon, I hope to see you in my seminar," Diane continued formally, looking at my little friend.

    "I''ll be there," Sheldon said, nodding formally with his hands clasped in front of his abdomen. "Dr. Adler, it was a pleasure meeting you."

    "The same to you, Sheldon," Dr. Adler replied, nodding. "I look forward to hearing great things from you," she declared, making Mrs. Cooper instinctively put her arm around her son''s shoulder.

    "I''m sure you will," Sheldon declared arrogantly, puffing out his chest once again.

    "It was a pleasure meeting you," I said, the last to say goodbye, feeling slightly uncomfortable as I caught Dr. Adler''s attention. For a second, she looked at me with what I could barely recognize as distaste.

    Ignoring her, I smiled at Diane, who suddenly nodded and walked over to me again.

    Raising her hand to offer a handshake, just as I had when I first met her, she said, "I''m looking forward to the experiment," with a small smile and biting the edge of her lip, slightly embarrassed.

    "Likewise," I said, recalling her response from hours ago, amused as I took her hand in a firm shake. Her small hands were incredibly soft and cool despite the temperature in Medford.

    As Diane left with her family, I could see her brother, Frank, who simply ran to their stepfather''s car after saying goodbye to Georgie and Missy, who were outside the house with him.

    "Crazy people. I need another beer," Mr. Cooper said as he walked back into the house, losing his forced smile once the car with the small family was far enough away.

    "She''s really cute, but she''s too smart for my tastes," Georgie said, patting my shoulder as a greeting and smiling suggestively. "I''m hungry; what''s for dinner?" he asked his mother, immediately changing the subject without intending to continue.

    "Oh yes, she is way too smart for you," Missy said teasingly to her brother as she walked in with Georgie. "I wish you were a girl," she declared stopping for a second next to Sheldon, ignoring her mother''s annoyed look and her twin brother''s offended glare she continued walking.

    "Thank you so much for coming, PJ," a moment later Mrs. Cooper said, smiling at me and choosing to ignore her daughter''s comment. "I knew inviting you was a good idea."

    "Oh, don''t mention it, Mrs. Cooper. Thank you for inviting me," I replied right away, glancing at the time and noticing it was much later than I''d realized.

    "Wait, we haven''t finished the game," Sheldon, who was still being held by his mother''s hands on his shoulders, said anxiously.

    "Right, remind me of the position," I said, smiling briefly at Mrs. Cooper and then looking at Sheldon.

    "On the board, your king is on g8, pawns on b5, c6, f7, g6, and h5; you have a knight on e4, bishops on d5 and f8, and a rook on a2," Sheldon recited the exact position of all my pieces on the board as easily as counting from one to ten.

    "Okay, I think I got it," I said, trying to remember the position as I nodded.

    "All right, my pieces: king on h2, pawns on g2 and h4, knight on e5, and queen on b8," pressing his lips together, my little friend recited, clearly knowing he was in a losing position. "It''s your move," he said, showing some effort.

    "King to g7," I said after a moment of thought.

    "King to g1," Sheldon responded, slightly defeated.

    "Bishop to c5, check."

    "King to f1."

    "Knight to g3, check."

    "King to e1," murmured Sheldon, pressing his lips even tighter, obviously frustrated by his loss.

    "Bishop to b4¡ª".

    "I know, check," Sheldon interrupted, anxious.

    "King to d1."

    "Bishop to b3," I continued, avoiding saying "check" to keep from annoying him further.

    "King to c1," Sheldon said nervously.

    "Come on, Sheldon, you lost this one," I said, shaking my head to encourage him to give up.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "It''s your move," he said, frowning as if still considering possible moves, with no intention of surrendering.

    "Knight to e2," I replied, rolling my eyes.

    "King to b1."

    "Knight to c3," I finally said, trapping his king.

    "King to c1," Sheldon admitted, lowering his head in defeat.

    "Rook to c2, checkmate," I declared, smiling kindly at him.

    "What happened? Did you finish?" Mrs. Cooper asked with a sweet smile as she watched the situation.

    "Yeah, I lost," Sheldon replied, nodding in defeat to his mother.

    "Oh, Shelly, better luck next time," Mrs. Cooper said, squeezing his shoulder with a bit of pity.

    "Yeah, you''re right ''next time''" Nodding to his mother, Sheldon stated seriously. "I want a rematch," Sheldon said with resilience.

    "Maybe another day, buddy. I have to go train," I told him, glancing at my watch once more.

    "All right" Sheldon shrugged his shoulders in disappointment and replied, "anyway, Professor Proton''s show is about to start," Sheldon said checking his own watch. "See you later, PJ," he added with a more formal nod, separating from his mother''s hands and walking back into the house.

    Yes, that''s how a child should be. Even with Sheldon''s brain, he was still just a kid.

    I watched as Mrs. Cooper smiled sweetly at her son as he walked to the living room.

    "I don''t know if it matters to you, but I think you and Mr. Cooper are doing an excellent job raising Sheldon, letting him be as much of a normal kid as someone with his intellect can be," I said, smiling at her and thinking of how socially awkward Diane was and how she reacted to ''mundane'' things in life.

    "Oh, PJ, thank you so much," she said emotionally, placing one hand on her chest, possibly understanding the meaning behind my comment.

    "It''s nothing," I said with a smile, nodding in farewell as I walked back home to get my things and head to training.

    At home, apparently waiting for me, Mom turned from the infomercial program she was watching, as much as her third-trimester belly would allow, to look at me.

    "How did it go?" Mom asked excitedly.

    "It was fun. Diane is really smart, very different from Sheldon in a lot of ways, but no less intelligent," I replied, amused by her interest.

    "And how were her parents?" Mom asked, smiling widely. "I would have gone¡ªMary invited me¡ªbut I knew she''d want to ask a million questions to the parents of the other genius kid, so I preferred not to intrude," she explained.

    Thinking about it, it was pretty clear why Mrs. Cooper''s mood had changed after meeting Diane''s mom. From the way Diane had been raised, like a robot with a single purpose, Mrs. Cooper would probably despise the woman''s parenting style.

    If I had to describe her, I was pretty sure House would have said she''d hit a wall in her career at some point, likely blaming her former husband and kids for holding her back from pursuing her mathematics career. But then, when Diane showed undeniable intelligence at a young age, the woman must have started seeing herself in her daughter and has since been pushing Diane into a perfect mold for mathematics, making her miss out on both her childhood and now her teenage years.

    Basically, a narcissistic, megalomaniacal, arrogant woman with little regard for others¡ªeven it seemed, for her other son, based on the way Diane talked about him.

    "I didn''t get to know her well, but she seemed¡­ very focused," I said, choosing my words carefully to describe the woman without being insulting, as I looked at Mom. "But I''m sure Mrs. Cooper could tell you more."

    "You''re right," Mom said, excited as she struggled to reach the phone next to her on the couch.

    "I''m going to train," I said, amused rolling my eyes as I watched her dial the Cooper''s number.

    "Have fun," she said, not even looking at me as she waited for the call to connect.

    By the end of that day''s training, I had received some punishment from Case, as he may have caught me distracted a couple of times while training, for thinking of the list of things to do with Diane.

    The next day, after my morning run and a shower, I drove for several minutes to where Diane and her family were staying.

    In Medford, there weren''t many, or even any, high-quality hotels. Instead, due to the abundance of fields and ranches in the area, many of those homes were rented to tourists looking for a cowboy experience. Based on how Diane had described it, I was sure her stepfather had chosen the place.

    After carefully driving over the rough terrain toward the ranch¡ªsince I didn''t want to damage ''Debbie''¡ªI arrived at a beautiful and well-kept ranch, surely the best in the area.

    When I got out of my car, about to walk up and knock on the door, it suddenly swung open, revealing Diane, already dressed in another sweater and with a visible smile.

    "Are you ready?" I asked, amused, as it seemed she''d been eagerly awaiting my arrival.

    "I thought you wouldn''t come," Diane admitted quietly, nodding as she walked up beside me.

    "Did we agree on a different time?" I asked, checking my watch, concerned. "I thought I was on time," I added, trying to remember if I had said an earlier time by mistake.

    "Oh, no, you''re right on time. I just woke up way earlier, I even had my first coffee" Diane quickly reassured me, slightly nervous. "I''m not used to the sound of roosters crowing."

    "After a while, you get used to it. The Sparks, the neighbors across from the Coopers, have dozens of roosters and chickens in their yard," I said as we walked together toward my car. Even though I hear them, by the time the roosters start crowing in the morning, I''m practically finishing my run with Gabe.

    "In Boston, the loudest sound that could wake you in the morning is the snowplow doing its rounds in the winter," Diane said with a slight smile.

    "Yeah, I can imagine," I said, smiling as I recalled all the snow I''d seen on my trips to Boston. "Hop in," I added, reaching my car and opening the passenger door.

    "Thank you," Diane said with a soft smile as she got in.

    As I walked around to the driver''s side, I noticed Diane''s younger brother, who was peeking out of the window with interest. I waved at him, and he responded with a curious wave as I opened the driver''s door.

    "When I saw it parked outside your house, I knew it was your car," Once I was inside the car, Diane said, studying the interior of ''Debbie'' curiously with a smile.

    "Actually, my car is the yellow truck with the giant ant," I said, grinning widely as I joked with her.

    "Oh, the one with your father''s exterminator business name on the side?" Diane asked in surprise.

    "Exactly. Dad says my face is great advertising for the business," I replied, exaggeratedly arrogant, though it was unbelievable that Diane actually believed me.

    "Oh really?" Diane raised one eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Then why didn''t you bring it today?"

    "I thought that two extremely good-looking people would be too much¡ªit''d look fake," I said without missing a beat, surprising Diane, who didn''t seem to know how to respond this time.

    I''d gotten carried away, accidentally saying something uncomfortable.

    "This is my car," regretting speaking without thinking, I admitted after a moment of awkward silence "I don''t know why I lied".

    "I don''t know either, according to Frank and Hank this is a much cooler car" Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Diane commented.

    "Yeah," I said awkwardly, starting the car. "Ok let''s officially kick off this experiment," I declared clapping, forcing to move past the awkward moment. "The first item on my list of ''things I''m going to show Diane about life outside of math''¡ªthe name needs to be shorter," I continued with a smile, making Diane chuckle softly. "Music and a road trip," I added, cranking up the radio and pressing play on one of the many CDs Kat had picked out for me a while ago.

    On the drive back to town from the countryside, I took the opportunity to play my favorite songs from every CD in my glove compartment, singing loudly over the booming speakers. Diane laughed openly at my show after the first song.

    "Our first stop today is breakfast," I said, parking outside the waffle restaurant where I usually go with Gabe and Teddy on sibling days, smiling at Diane.

    "Oh, I love waffles," Diane said, smiling back and speaking somewhat loudly, probably because of the music volume.

    "Great, they also have an amazing chocolate milkshake here," I said, opening my door to get out.

    "Chocolate milkshake?" Diane asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Just the best drink there is," I defended myself quickly, feeling judged by her question and shrugging.

    "I know what it is, Frank has always wanted one," Diane said, biting her lip slightly, as I''d noticed she often did when feeling embarrassed.

    "''Wanted?'' don''t tell me you''ve never had a chocolate milkshake?" incredulous and at the same time worried, I asked.

    Pressing her lips together Diane slowly denied staring me straight in the eyes, apparently interested in studying my reaction.

    "What? Why not?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

    "My mother is allergic to chocolate," Diane explained simply, shrugging.

    Of course she is; chocolate brings joy to people¡ªshe wouldn''t stand it.

    "We have to fix that immediately," I said, feeling an unusual amount of irritation towards Dr. Adler at that moment as I held the door to the restaurant open for Diane.

    "Oh, PJ honey, welcome! Where are Gabe and Teddy?" Sam, an older waitress who recognized me as I entered with Diane, asked right away. "And who is this lovely young lady?" she asked, smiling meaningfully at Diane.

    I came here fairly often on sibling days with Teddy and Gabe; the waffles were really good.

    "Sam, this is Diane. Sam has magical hands for making milkshakes," I said, smiling at Diane and nodding kindly toward Sam.

    "Nice to meet you," Diane replied politely, nodding. "Did you know that what''s considered the first version of a milkshake as we know it today was created in the United States in 1885 in a recipe book called *The Mixicologist*?" she shared with a barely visible smile. "Also, cacao, a fundamental ingredient in making chocolate, has been used and continues to be used as a psychoactive substance, especially in the Mesoamerican region where it was used in ceremonial rites."

    "I did know that," I replied slightly excited to know something, amused by Diane''s enthusiasm, making her smile at me. "Not the milkshake part, though, but I knew about the cacao¡ªit has around 0.1 milligrams of anandamide per gram of dry cacao."

    "I''d never want to compete against you two in a trivia game," Sam said, watching our interaction with amusement. "Though if you need a third teammate, I know a lot about country music," she added, smiling.

    "I''ll keep that in mind," I replied with a smile, playing along with her joke.

    "Perfect!" Sam said, looking excited. "So, I''ll bring your milkshakes," she added with another smile to Diane before heading to where she had her "tools."

    "Are you planning to go to a trivia competition?" Diane asked curiously once Sam was far enough away.

    "No," I replied, laughing. "Even though Sam is right¡ªyou''d crush other teams in a lot of trivia games on your own. And if we add Sheldon, there''d be no stopping you two," I added with a slight smile, though I was sure there''d be questions about pop culture that neither of them would know. I might not even know.

    "You would also be a great help for the team; you knew about anandamide in cacao," Diane said with a slight smile, biting her lip.

    "That''s because it''s related to medicine. If it were another topic, I probably wouldn''t have a clue. Like planes¡ªwho flew the first plane?" I asked, testing her encyclopedic knowledge.

    "The first controlled, sustained flight of an ''airplane'' was by the Wright brothers in 1903," Diane replied quickly, smiling as if she''d had the answer before I even asked.

    "See?" I said, amused.

    "Yeah, I get it," Diane said slowly after a second, nodding. "Still, I think you''d be an invaluable member of any trivia team," she murmured, avoiding direct eye contact but glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

    "Thank you," I replied, smiling at her, amused.

    "So, do you come to this place a lot?" Diane asked, obviously changing the subject and now fully avoiding eye contact, with a bit of longing in her gaze.

    "Yeah, I usually come here with my siblings, Teddy and Gabe, every now and then. Just us¡ªa siblings'' day. We always come here for breakfast," I explained, remembering all the times I''d been out with them.

    "That sounds great," Diane said, resting her head in her hand, leaning against the counter of the restaurant as she looked at me.

    "It is," I replied after a moment, smiling. "Those two are the best. I can''t wait for the next one," I added, thinking about the future with my new brother or sister.

    "When is your new sibling going to be born?" Diane asked, clearly interested, leaning against the counter.

    "I estimate the end of next month, but it''s not something you can predict that easily," I replied calmly.

    "An extra-large milkshake for my favorite customer and a regular milkshake for the mysterious Diane," Sam announced as she set the drinks in front of us, carrying a glass and a small jug that held up to a liter. "So, are you two going out?" she asked with raised eyebrows, looking suggestively at Diane.

    Having my delicious milkshake from Sam right in front of me, I couldn''t help but take a quick sip of the foam before it disappeared. Sam''s question made that sip go down the wrong way, making me cough.

    "Yes, we are," Diane replied before I could respond, my mild coughing fit turning into a loud cough as she answered completely seriously.

    "I''m just showing Diane around town," I quickly said, recovering, trying to avoid spreading more false rumors about me. I knew people working there had kids at my school; Sam was one of them.

    "Yeah, sure," Sam said sarcastically, almost closing her eyes. "So, a waffle order for each of you?" she asked Diane with a smile, already knowing my order.

    "Yes, please," Diane replied, nodding slightly, seemingly not picking up on the entire interaction with Sam.

    Sam winked and nodded, then walked to the restaurant kitchen, likely to place our order.

    "Was my answer incorrect?" Diane asked worriedly once Sam disappeared behind the door, apparently genuinely interested in my response.

    "In a literal sense, no¡ªwe''re out, and we are together," I said slowly, pointing between us. "So yeah, we''re ''going out,''" I continued, and Diane nodded slowly. "But in a more casual, much less literal sense, Sam was asking if we''re a couple," I explained quickly.

    "Oh," Diane murmured, her eyes widening.

    I had never seen anyone blush so much, at least not without having first done some strenuous physical activity, as Diane did right then.

    "I''m really sorry," Diane said, completely embarrassed.

    "Don''t worry, it''s just a misunderstanding," I assured her, smiling slightly, amused by her reaction. "Now, you have to try the milkshake."

    Since I''d taken the first sip of mine, I kept drinking whenever I had the chance, watching a little desperate as the foam on Diane''s glass disappeared by the second.

    "Oh yeah," she said quickly, realizing she also had a glass and seeming grateful for a way to change the subject.

    Watching Diane prepare to drink her milkshake, I started feeling nervous for some reason.

    Diane nervously took a sip, pausing for what felt like an eternity¡ªthough it was only a couple of seconds¡ªbefore her eyes widened and she eagerly drank more of the delicious drink.

    "See, I told you," I said proudly, feeling both excited and oddly relieved as I watched Diane drink her milkshake almost obsessively.

    "This is delicious!" Diane exclaimed, putting her glass back on the counter.

    "I know," I replied, holding back a laugh, since Diane, surely unknowingly, had a foam mustache.

    "Here you go, two orders of waffles," Sam said, coming over with her usual smile, carrying two nearly identical plates. "Honey, you have a little foam on your face," she added, smiling sweetly at Diane as she noticed it.

    "Oh," Diane quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe her face, thoroughly embarrassed. "By the way, I''d like to apologize for any misunderstanding my previous answer may have caused. PJ and I do not currently share a romantic relationship; we are conducting a psychosocial experiment," Diane said seriously to Sam, placing her hands together in front of her on the counter after wiping the foam away.

    Sam, clearly not expecting Diane''s sudden speech, stood still, mouth open as she looked at the girl sitting across from her, possibly without fully understanding what she had just said.

    "We''re friends, and I''m showing her around Medford," I explained with a small smile, trying my hardest not to laugh at the situation.

    "...All right," Sam said slowly, nodding with a smile.

    "Also, can I have a milkshake the same size as PJ''s, please?" Diane asked, slightly embarrassed, pointing to my small jug, seemingly oblivious to how her speech might have sounded.

    "Of course," Sam responded, smiling widely and walking back to her station, not without first giving me a meaningful smile and a thumbs-up as she gestured toward Diane.

    "I don''t know how I''ve never had this before; it''s delicious," Diane said between sips, completely ignoring Sam''s gestures behind her.

    "Yeah, it is," I murmured, nodding as I watched Diane enjoy her milkshake intently.

    ---

    As I said, an attempt to write actual romance in this story, if you have notes I''ll be reading them.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I''m not Magnus Carlsen (Come here Levy I''m not scared).

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 81

    After drinking our milkshakes and paying for breakfast, Diane and I talked for several minutes inside the restaurant until we finally left, saying goodbye to Sam. ¡°So, we can go to the movies, mini-golf, bowling, my siblings love this place the arcade¡ªit''s a store with dozens of machines to win prizes" slightly excited I listed. "What sounds more interesting?¡± Noticing a slightly amused expression on Diane''s face, easing my excitement I asked as we walked to my car.

    ¡°Could we just drive?, like before,¡± Diane asked softly as she got into the car and adjusted her seatbelt.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, starting the car and smiling at the girl in the passenger seat.

    The rest of the day in general wasn¡¯t great for the environment, but after driving around most of Medford for a couple of hours with Diane, she began singing the songs, at first just murmuring, but after listening to them a couple of times she actually started singing them. Diane only needed to hear them once to memorize them completely.

    ¡°My legs hurt,¡± Diane said after singing through one of the albums, now apparently her favorite, for the second time.

    ¡°Yeah, mine too,¡± I quickly replied, laughing. By then, my rear was already feeling pretty uncomfortable. ¡°We should stretch our legs out.¡± We weren¡¯t far from a park.

    ¡°Stretch our legs out,¡± Diane said, mimicking me with a huff.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s not always there, but sometimes you have a Texan accent,¡± Diane said, covering her smile with the side of her hand.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± I quickly replied, feeling oddly self-conscious about how I spoke.

    ¡°Yes, not as thick as the one Hank tries to do, or like the Coopers, but now and then, after laughing or when you talk quickly, I can hear it,¡± Diane explained, lightly biting her lip as she smiled.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been living here long enough, and everyone has a thick Texan accent. It¡¯s not strange for some phrases to rub off on me,¡± I said quickly, feeling the need to explain myself.

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s not a bad thing,¡± Diane quickly murmured with a small smile.

    ¡°Well, your Boston accent isn¡¯t a bad thing either,¡± I declared mischievously, smiling as I saw Diane¡¯s immediate reaction of surprise.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have an accent,¡± Diane said quickly, denying it. Admittedly, she didn¡¯t really have an accent¡ªit was strange hearing neutral English, almost like Sheldon, but less¡­ robotic?.

    ¡°Maybe not, but what about the English accent? ¡®Woh¡¯uh,¡¯¡± I added with an exaggerated English accent, smiling.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never said the word ¡®water¡¯ in front of you¡ªI remember,¡± Diane triumphantly declared, placing her still incredibly cold hand on my arm. It was really strange that Diane¡¯s body didn¡¯t regulate temperature in a typical way. ¡°You can''t lie to me when it comes to remembering things,¡± Diane murmured, quickly removing her hand.

    ¡°True,¡± I exclaimed with exaggerated defeat, lowering my head. ¡°I forgot about that part,¡± I admitted, smiling at Diane.

    ¡°Well¡­ I didn¡¯t,¡± Diane declared, seemingly trying her hardest not to smile, tilting her head.

    ¡°Oh, so now we¡¯re being arrogant, huh?¡± I asked sarcastically.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± Diane immediately said defensively, furrowing her brow.

    ¡°Oh, I know. I was just joking,¡± I said quickly, worried because, like Sheldon, Diane sometimes struggled to recognize sarcasm, trying to explain myself.

    With a completely serious face, Diane remained silent for a couple of seconds. Then, slowly, she began to smile, clearly amused.

    ¡°You really got me there,¡± I said, impressed by Diane¡¯s ability to hide a ¡®lie¡¯ to me, even a small one, at least for a second then my smile disappeared¡ªI¡¯d heard my own accent.

    ¡°There!¡± Diane exclaimed excitedly, pointing at my face. ¡°Told you.¡±

    A couple of minutes later, we arrived at the park, where I parked my car.

    At the park, we spent hours walking and chatting peacefully, really losing track of time. Diane talked excitedly about her job and Dr. Shankland in math, while I gave her an overview of a couple of cases at the hospital and the article by Dr. Thomas.

    At some point¡ªI wasn¡¯t really sure how much time had passed¡ªI noticed how much the number of people in the park had decreased. ¡°Wow, look at that¡ªit¡¯s late,¡± I said, surprised as I checked my watch.

    ¡°What?¡± Diane exclaimed, grabbing my arm tightly to check my watch. ¡°We need to hurry,¡± she said, pulling my arm and running along the park path toward my car.

    ¡°Why? What¡¯s happening?¡± I asked amused by the pace at which Diane was ¡®running'', I was simply walking at the same speed as Diane ''ran''.

    ¡°I was supposed to be back ten minutes ago for a long distance call with Dr. Shankland,¡± Diane explained.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s move. I don¡¯t think your mom likes me very much, and if you¡¯re late now, I don¡¯t want her to hate me,¡± I joked, helping Diane pick up the pace by taking her hand.

    ¡°Oh, she definitely doesn¡¯t like you,¡± Diane declared shamelessly, her voice breathless from the physical effort.

    ¡°No way, really?¡± I asked ironically.

    ¡°Stop talking¡ªyou need to be faster,¡± Diane said anxiously, almost out of breath after a few more seconds.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even trying,¡± I said, amused at Diane¡¯s flushed face. Clearly, she wasn¡¯t used to physical exertion, but I kept pulling her hand even though I was only walking ''quickly''.

    ¡°Well, you really should try,¡± Diane said irritated raising her voice as she stopped to catch her breath, having barely moved a yard or so.

    Seeing Diane genuinely upset was something new and quite interesting.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Diane, but if I really tried, I¡¯d probably have time to take a nap in the car before you arrive,¡± I said sarcastically, curious to see more of Diane¡¯s new reaction.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be rude,¡± Diane said, letting go of my hand, reminding me we were still holding them, she frowned.

    I may have taken it too far. It was one thing for her to be upset generally, but it was another thing she being upset specifically with me.

    ¡°I don''t know, do you want me to carry you?¡± without really anything to do I asked, joking lightly as Diane recovered her breath with both hands on her knees.

    ¡°Oh, yeah, that would really work,¡± Diane said excitedly, raising her head and opening her eyes wide. ¡°Obviously, you¡¯re physically superior to me. I weigh about 150 pounds, or 68 kilos¡ªcan you carry that weight?¡± she asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

    I was only joking, but how could I say no now?

    ¡°Yeah, of course I can,¡± I quickly nodded, stepping forward and bending my knees. ¡°Hop on,¡± I said, exaggerating a Texan accent as I prepared to lift Diane.

    The day was like any other mid-April day in Texas. The temperature was warm and extremely pleasant, but despite that, Diane, who was wearing yet another sweater almost identical to the one she''d worn the day before, had her legs and hands completely cold.

    "Ready?" I asked, trying to ignore Diane''s still-labored breathing next to my ear, also trying to calm my accelerated pulse.

    "Yes," Diane murmured into my ear, her voice barely audible and obviously embarrassed.

    With Diane on my back, I started to jog, picking up the pace once I was sure I had a good grip on the lightweight girl.

    "Am I too heavy?" Diane asked as I jogged at a decent speed.

    "No, not at all I''d say about a hundred and fifty pounds, or sixty-eight kilos, so I barely notice you''re there," I replied. And honestly, it was true. I was pretty sure the punching bag we used at the gym to practice ground and pound was heavier than her, and I could easily use that bag as weight for squats.

    Even though we had walked for a long time in the park, we hadn''t actually covered much distance¡ªat least not by my usual running standards¡ªso in less than a third of an hour, I arrived slightly winded, with a light sheen of sweat, at my car.

    "Come on," Diane said, perfectly composed as she walked quickly to the passenger side.

    Taking a deep breath, I exhaled loudly and hurried to unlock the car.

    "Please, hurry," Diane pleaded nervously once we were both in the car with our seat belts fastened, her eyes fixed on mine.

    Without saying anything, I started the car and drove quickly out of the park. For the first time since I had gotten "Debbie," I broke the speed limit¡ªby a lot.

    Fortunately, for our safety and that of others, the road to the ranch Diane''s family was renting was practically deserted, and before long, we arrived at the beautiful villa.

    Dr. Adler, with a look of disapproval on her face, stood on the porch with her arms crossed, watching us intently as we approached.

    "I really don''t think your mom likes me," I murmured to Diane, feeling Dr. Adler''s piercing gaze fixed on me.

    "Oh, definitely," Diane responded immediately, unbuckling her seatbelt without missing a beat. "She didn''t like you before, so there''s no problem."

    "You''re completely right," I said sarcastically to no one, as Diane stepped out of the car. A second later, I followed her out.

    "I''m sorry, Mom," Diane said softly, walking slowly toward the beautiful villa and lightly biting her lip.

    "You need to apologize to Shankland, not me," Mrs. Adler said sternly, momentarily shifting her annoyed gaze from me to Diane.

    "Dr. Adler, this isn''t Diane''s fault. I lost track of time," I said, walking alongside Diane toward the house, trying to keep her out of trouble.

    "Yes, I know," Dr. Adler replied instantly, turning her deeply furrowed brow back toward me.

    All right, that was really easy¡­?

    "Go inside, Diane," Dr. Adler commanded as she turned toward the house, clearly unwilling to speak to me further.

    "Yes, Mom," Diane said seriously, nodding with her head down.

    Dr. Adler shook her head slightly as she stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

    "''Woh''uh,''" I said, mimicking Dr. Adler¡¯s accent loud enough for Diane to hear, trying to stifle a laugh. Diane immediately turned toward me, her eyes comically wide behind her glasses.

    "She could hear you," Diane said, her cold hand once again gripping my arm with a tone of concern as she glanced nervously at the closed door. Despite her worried voice, I could see her fighting back a small smile.

    "I don''t think she could hate me much more than she already does," I joked. "Although... this is Texas, so I''m pretty sure there''s at least one gun inside that house," I muttered, causing Diane to widen her eyes nervously and press my arm harder.

    "I''m kidding," I assured her halfway, holding her hand. I was almost certain there was a gun inside that house, but I doubted Dr. Adler would shoot me.

    Diane nodded, gazing at me intently, her grip on my arm gentle yet firm. Once again, as when I first met her in Sheldon¡¯s room, she seemed to glow in the light that illuminated her face, brightening her eyes and highlighting her blonde hair.

    Diane and I stood in comfortable silence for what felt like a while until, "Diane, look what I found!" a boy no older than twelve suddenly exclaimed from the side of the house, walking toward us excitedly. In his hands, he calmly held the skull of what appeared to be a calf, judging by its size. "So cool, right?"

    "Don¡¯t touch that, Frank. It''s dirty," Diane said, stepping away from her brother¡ªand consequently, from me¡ªclearly surprised.

    "It¡¯s just bone," Frank said mischievously, grinning.

    "It¡¯s not just a bone. It¡¯s several bones connected by immovable joints," Diane quickly corrected. "Please put that down," she added a moment later.

    Shrugging slightly, the boy dropped the skull to the ground. "Who are you?" he asked me casually after discarding the skull, entirely unfazed.

    "I¡¯m PJ. What¡¯s up, bud?" I said, smiling as I introduced myself.

    "Oh," Frank murmured, smiling mischievously at his sister before continuing. "I¡¯m Frank. Is that your car?" he asked, completely informal.

    "Yeah, you like it?" I asked, nodding toward him.

    "Yeah, it¡¯s cool," Frank replied, nodding. "Does Mom know you¡¯re here? She was pretty mad," he asked Diane, seamlessly shifting topics once again.

    "Oh, I got to go," Diane said quickly, prompted by Frank¡¯s reminder, and began walking toward the house. After a couple of steps, she turned back to where only Frank and I remained. "Thanks for today, PJ," she said sweetly, a small smile on her face.

    "Don¡¯t mention it," I replied, returning her smile. "See you tomorrow?" I asked, slightly concerned her mother might ground her or something similar.

    "Yes," Diane answered immediately, visibly smiling without hesitation. After a brief moment of comfortable silence, she turned and walked quickly into the house.

    Watching the closed door a little too intently and in silence once Diane was inside, I was startled when Frank asked, completely unbothered, "Are you my sister¡¯s boyfriend?"

    "We''re friends," I answered after a moment, caught off guard by the boy¡¯s direct question.

    "Ok," Frank murmured, frowning in an attempt to look as intimidating as a twelve-year-old could. "Don¡¯t make her cry, or I¡¯ll hurt you," he warned, holding his ''intimidating'' gaze.

    "I don¡¯t plan on making her cry, but yeah, I don¡¯t want you to hurt me," I replied seriously, understanding where the boy''s protectiveness came from.

    "All right," Frank said cheerfully, nodding before bending to pick up the skull he had dropped. He then walked off without another word.  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    "See you later, little buddy," I said, amused by his sudden mood change, as I headed back to my car.

    While driving home, with the music still at the same volume Diane and I had been listening to earlier, I couldn¡¯t help but sing at the top of my lungs over the noise of the speakers.

    "Someone¡¯s happy," Mom said with a suggestive smile as I walked into the house. She was sitting calmly on the couch, reading one of her magazines.

    "Well, I had fun today," I explained easily, taking a seat next to her.

    "I¡¯m glad," Mom said, reclining against the couch back and smiling sweetly. "Where did you take Diane?" she asked curiously.

    "We went to breakfast at the Waffle House," I answered, making Mom scoff.

    "Of course you did. Did you drink your giant milkshake?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow and obviously judging me.

    "Yes, but for your information, Diane ordered one just like it," I quickly defended myself, feeling the need to counter her direct attack.

    "Really?" Mom asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Interesting¡­" she murmured, her smile now carrying much more meaning.

    "After that, I gave her a car tour of Medford while listening to music, and then we walked in the park," I narrated easily.

    "Good," Mom said seriously, nodding. "That girl deserves a normal life," she added, frowning deeply.

    Clearly, Mom had heard from Mrs. Cooper about the strict upbringing Dr. Adler had imposed on Diane since childhood, and it clearly didn¡¯t sit well with her.

    "You should invite her to dinner one of these days," Mom declared excitedly, clasping her hands together.

    "Sure," I replied, smiling at her easily, though I wasn¡¯t entirely sure Dr. Adler would let Diane stay away from her for that long. "Where is everyone?" I asked a moment later, noticing the silence in the rest of the house and changing the subject.

    "Your dad and your siblings went out to pick up some dinner. I think they¡¯re bringing fried chicken," Mom explained calmly, turning her attention back to the TV.

    "Great, I¡¯m famished," I said jokingly, exaggerating an English accent.

    "What¡¯s with the accent?" Mom asked, laughing softly.

    The next day at school, during lunch, as I sat with my friends, "You look really happy," Kat said, studying my face as she sat next to me at our usual table in the cafeteria. "At least more than usual."

    "Oh, thanks. You look too¡­" I said, pretending to be at a loss for words and making exaggerated faces as if searching for something to say, teasing my friend.

    "Oh, shut up," Kat said, rolling her eyes as she lightly punched my arm in exasperation.

    "I¡¯m kidding, I¡¯m kidding," I said, laughing as I covered myself from her playful hits.

    "He¡¯s probably thinking about Diane Adler," Georgie said, watching my interaction with Kat with interest and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

    "Who?" Kat asked immediately, intrigued.

    "Diane Adler is a genius, like Sheldon but our age and a girl," Georgie quickly explained.

    "Yeah, we get that by ¡®Diane,¡¯" Kat muttered.

    "Yesterday PJ and she went on a date. I heard my mom talking to yours," Georgie said, smiling mischievously and clearly enjoying the gossip more than he should, seemingly ignoring Kat¡¯s sarcasm.

    "It wasn¡¯t a date," I quickly explained, seeing the curious look Kat was giving me. "I just took her to see Medford. She studies all the time, and I thought it would be a nice change in her routine," I added, watching Kat furrow her brow.

    "So it was a one-time thing?" David, sitting next to Georgie, asked, raising an eyebrow and clearly imagining the answer.

    Really, you too?

    "Maybe a couple more times," I answered, oddly feeling as though they had discovered some kind of secret, which only made David and Georgie tease me more.

    "Ignore them and do whatever you want, you goody two-shoes," Kat said sarcastically and dryly, focusing entirely on her lunch.

    As it was already customary, after school, I drove Kat to her house. The ride in the car, aside from the music¡ªpicked by Kat¡ªwas completely silent.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s *Diane* like?¡± Kat suddenly broke the uncomfortable silence, not far from her house.

    Taken by surprise by her abrupt question, I took a few seconds to reorganize my thoughts.

    ¡°She grew up as a math genius,¡± I began slowly, keeping my eyes on the road. ¡°Her mom made sure she had the best tutors and participated in the most advanced competitions in the country.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s *super* popular in high school,¡± Kat remarked ironically.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s another thing. She never went to high school¡ªor middle school, for that matter,¡± I said with a bit of pity in my voice, seeing Kat¡¯s surprised expression. ¡°At nine, she won the national math olympiad. By eleven, she already had a master¡¯s degree. Since then, all she does is work on a single, incredibly difficult math problem,¡± I explained gravely.

    ¡°What?¡± Kat asked incredulously.

    ¡°Yeah. She works every day with a doctor from MIT, solving equations. I don¡¯t think she has friends. She doesn¡¯t watch TV unless it¡¯s for the news. She¡¯s never been to the movies, doesn¡¯t listen to music, doesn¡¯t know how to swim or ride a bike. I doubt she¡¯s ever been to a party with people her age,¡± I recounted somberly, thinking back on Diane¡¯s isolated life.

    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s really sad,¡± Kat said softly, her concern evident, as if she had a lump in her throat.

    ¡°Exactly. But when you really get to know her, past that little barrier of social awkwardness, she¡¯s fun. She knows tons of random facts, smiles a lot. For some reason, she¡¯s always cold, and when she smiles, she gets embarrassed and tries to hide it by biting her lip or covering it with the side of her hand,¡± I explained, recalling yesterday¡¯s moments with Diane.

    Silence returned, but this time it felt heavier.

    ¡°So, you want to show her there¡¯s more to life than just studying?¡± Kat finally broke it again, watching me with an incredibly sad, small smile.

    ¡°Exactly. She¡¯ll be here for a week, so I decided to show her everything she¡¯s been missing out on,¡± I said firmly, shrugging as I pulled up in front of Kat¡¯s house. I wouldn¡¯t let Diane remain hidden from life.

    ¡°You really are a goody two-shoes,¡± Kat murmured, shaking her head as she exhaled and opened the car door.

    Rolling my eyes, I sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not a goo¡ª¡± I started to say but was cut off as Kat surprised me by kissing my cheek.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to meet her before she leaves,¡± Kat murmured with a smile before quickly stepping out of the car.

    The unexpected kiss left me so stunned that I couldn¡¯t respond as my friend closed the door from outside.

    ¡°See you tomorrow, goody two-shoes,¡± Kat said mischievously, leaning down to look at me through the open passenger window.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a goody two-shoes!¡± I yelled, pretending to be offended, leaning across the car. Kat, already walking toward her house, simply waved goodbye without looking back.

    After dropping off Kat, I once again drove the route I¡¯d taken the day before. It didn¡¯t take long to reach the ranch. This time, before I could even step out of the car, Diane, now wearing a new sweater, opened the front door of the house, smiling brightly.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have any trouble yesterday?¡± I asked Diane after greeting her, now seated in the car.

    ¡°Oh no, surprisingly, Dr. Shankland was quite happy that I went out,¡± Diane replied with a small smile, nodding slowly.

    ¡°And your mom?¡± I raised an eyebrow, already guessing the answer.

    ¡°She was mostly upset with you. She thinks you¡¯re a bad influence on me,¡± Diane admitted with slight embarrassment, pressing her lips together. ¡°But with Hank¡¯s help, we convinced her you weren¡¯t, so she let me go out again,¡± she added quickly, as if trying to reassure me.

    ¡°She¡¯s probably right,¡± I said seriously, tilting my head. ¡°I¡¯m not a goody two-shoes,¡± I declared, starting the car and revving the engine lightly.

    ¡°Goody two-shoes?¡± Diane asked, puzzled.

    ¡°A very good person,¡± I explained casually.

    ¡°But you *are* a very good person,¡± Diane said, frowning in confusion.

    Clenching my jaw, I slowly nodded. ¡°Yes, I am,¡± I admitted after a moment. For some reason, when Diane said it, it didn¡¯t feel like an odd insult.

    Since it was Monday and the mall was usually quieter on weekdays, I decided to take Diane there to visit the shops and maybe grab some coffee.

    ¡°I talked to my friends about you, and aside from Georgie, who already knows you, they¡¯re all really interested in meeting you. Also, my mom wants to invite you to dinner one of these days,¡± I said, glancing at Diane as I drove toward the mall, turning down the music she had immediately turned on.

    Hearing that, Diane froze completely for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with the idea.

    I knew that due to her upbringing, Diane had deeply ingrained social discomfort, which sometimes showed as excessive formality in odd moments, like yesterday at the Waffle House with Sam. But seeing her reaction now, I could tell there was a little fear mixed in.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to,¡± I quickly reassured her, focusing back on the road.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to. Just¡­ maybe one of these days,¡± Diane responded calmly after a few seconds, her posture relaxing slightly.

    At least it wasn¡¯t a definitive no.

    When we arrived at the mall, Diane¡ªnow surrounded by far more people¡ªwore her mask of complete formality once again, walking beside me.

    ¡°Medford only has one mall, unlike Boston. Last winter break, I¡¯m pretty sure I visited every single mall there, and sadly, this one doesn¡¯t compare to any of them,¡± I remarked as we strolled past the shops, recalling every single mall London had dragged me to.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know; I¡¯ve never been to a mall,¡± Diane said. Despite maintaining her serious mask, her eyes sparkled with curiosity. ¡°But I do know there are approximately 43,000 malls across the United States. With a population of about 250 million people, that¡¯s an average of 5,800 people per mall.¡±

    ¡°When you put it that way, it makes much more sense why Boston has so many malls,¡± I said, amused, making Diane nod in agreement. ¡°Wait, who buys your clothes, then?¡± I asked, remembering her earlier statement.

    ¡°My mom buys them for me,¡± Diane replied easily, without a hint of embarrassment.

    Of course her mom chooses her clothes.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty sure there should be at least one store here that sells sweaters,¡± I declared, deciding the first thing we¡¯d do was let Diane pick out her own clothes, ¡°even if you¡¯re the only person in Medford who¡¯s currently cold,¡± I added, joking.

    Convincing Diane to shop for her own clothes turned out to be a bit of a challenge. She was slightly against the idea altogether.

    ¡°I don¡¯t find it efficient at all to buy clothes on my own when I have my mom to do it,¡± Diane said, examining a pair of pants with a puzzled expression as we walked through the store. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t understand the need for more clothes. I have all that I need,¡± she added, frowning as she shrugged.

    Yeah, I know that feeling.

    ¡°Someone very wise once told me there¡¯s a big difference between needing and wanting,¡± I said seriously, recalling London¡¯s words.

    ¡°Which is?¡± Diane asked, tilting her head in interest.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I admitted immediately. ¡°But what I do know is that walking around stores with someone can be a surprisingly fun experience,¡± I added, smiling at Diane.

    ¡°Well, I suppose that makes sense,¡± Diane said slowly, her wide eyes visible behind her glasses.

    If shopping with London had taught me anything, it was that browsing stores while chatting with someone could be surprisingly enjoyable.

    Unlike every other woman I¡¯d gone shopping with, Diane chose what she wanted with supreme ease¡ªif there was even something she wanted at all. And though I offered to pay for some of her items as a gift, she easily pulled out several hundred-dollar bills from her wallet to pay for her own purchases.

    Being wealthy really had its perks.

    "And this is the music store," I declared, carrying half the bags from Diane''s shopping spree and pointing to the store. "This is where all the CDs we listen to in my car come from."

    "There are so many," Diane said, astonished, as we walked into the store and she took in the shelves packed with boxes of discs.

    "Yeah, hundreds or thousands of hours of music at your fingertips," I said seriously, nodding as I gazed at the rows of CDs. "Come on," I added, motioning toward the back of the store.

    "How do you know which one you want to buy?" Diane asked curiously, walking behind me through the store.

    "By listening to them," I replied, turning my head with a smile. "Hey, Karl," I greeted the store clerk as we passed the main counter, dropping a five-dollar bill on the desk. The same acne-marked teenager who had helped Kat and me on our first visit here months ago barely looked up from the magazine he was reading.

    Since that first visit, I¡¯d come back several more times to expand my CD collection¡ªnow just for myself.

    "Hey," Karl said without taking his eyes off his reading material, lazily pocketing the bill.

    "I''m going to check out a few CDs in the back," I said, pointing toward the listening stations with headphones.

    "Knock yourself out," Karl mumbled disinterestedly, waving a hand without looking up.

    "Did you just bribe that worker?" Diane whispered nervously as she walked closer to me between the aisles.

    "Yes," I admitted shamelessly.

    After my second visit, Karl had grown increasingly annoyed with my presence, picking out CDs for hours. To avoid his sarcastic comments and unpleasant stares, I had decided to pay him five dollars each time to leave me¡ªand Kat, when she came along¡ªin peace.

    "Leave your stuff there and pick out at least three CDs that look interesting," I said, pointing near the listening stations and feeling slightly excited.

    "How can I choose ''interesting CDs'' without having listened to them first?" Diane asked, squinting her eyes in genuine curiosity.

    "Well, there''s a rack near the entrance with the top-selling CDs of the month. You could start there, or what I like to do is pick based on the cover art," I explained quickly, pointing toward the entrance.

    "I see," Diane said slowly, nodding with narrowed eyes. "Are you going to pick CDs too?" she asked, looking me in the eye with interest.

    "I think for now it¡¯s better if you pick the CDs," I said seriously, wanting her to continue exploring her autonomy.

    "All right," Diane responded after a moment, nodding a couple of times with slight hesitation before starting her search around the store.

    As she walked through the aisles, Diane frequently glanced back to make sure I was still there. Occasionally, she held up strange CD covers to show me while gathering the ones that caught her eye.

    After a few minutes, she returned with a small stack of CDs in her hands.

    "Oh, Kat told me about this band¡ªGreen Day," I said, picking up the first CD from the ones Diane had chosen and getting ready to play it. I handed a pair of headphones to Diane. "What¡¯s wrong?" I asked, noticing the slight grimace on her face as I turned to her.

    "Nothing," Diane said quickly, lying as she carefully placed the headphones over her ears with slow, deliberate movements.

    Deciding to let it slide, I put on my own headphones and started the album.

    At first, Diane simply listened, completely still. But as time went on, she began tapping her feet lightly to the rhythm of each song. Seeing her loosen up more and more, I remembered how much fun I¡¯d had that time Kat had forced me to dance in the shop. I took one of Diane¡¯s hands, surprising her, and started doing the same.

    Ignoring the awkwardness, I continued dancing slowly, making Diane smile faintly despite her embarrassment.

    With some effort¡ªa lot, to be honest¡ªI managed to get Diane to join in, moving with far less enthusiasm than me but still dancing and enjoying the music.

    As I watched Diane delicately dance with her eyes closed, more confident after several minutes, I slowly stopped, happy to see her smiling.

    "What?" Diane asked as the song we were listening to ended, opening her eyes to see me staring at her.

    "Nothing," I said, realizing it would be strange to admit I¡¯d been staring at her for at least a minute. I picked up the CDs we had listened to. "It¡¯s time to go," I added, checking my watch with slight disappointment.

    "Already?" Diane asked, gently pulling my wrist toward her to check my watch herself. "Oh, you¡¯re right," she said, biting her lip lightly and nodding.

    "Okay, I think I¡¯ll buy this one," I said, picking the last CD we had listened to, recalling the image of Diane dancing.

    "I will too, but I want one of each," Diane quickly said, walking back to where she had picked the same CD I was holding, presumably to grab another copy.

    "Ready?" I asked when Diane returned, grabbing the bags we had left on the floor.

    "Just..." Diane said softly, taking the CD from my hand and swapping it for the copy she had picked. "Ready," she added with a small smile.

    "Okay..." I replied, puzzled by the exchange, as we headed to the counter.

    After paying for the CDs, we left the store and walked back through the mall.

    "That was really fun. I didn¡¯t know dancing could be so cathartic," Diane said, smiling as she spoke, apparently forgetting to put back on her mask of formality.

    "Yeah, I remember the first time Kat brought me to the store¡ªwe danced for hours," I said, amused at the memory.

    After a few steps, I noticed the silence that followed my comment and glanced sideways at Diane, whose expression had suddenly become strangely stoic.

    "So¡­ I think tomorrow we could go to the movies. There¡¯s an interesting film playing," I said quickly, trying to ignore the discomfort.

    "Yeah, that sounds interesting," Diane replied slowly, adjusting her glasses with her sweater sleeve and avoiding looking at me.

    "Is¡ª" I started to ask if something was wrong.

    "This ''Kat''... is she one of the friends who wants to meet me?" Diane interrupted, looking at me seriously.

    "Yeah, she¡¯s a very good friend of mine," I replied quickly.

    "All right," Diane said, nodding and continuing to walk beside me, apparently with no intention of elaborating further.

    We reached the car, where we once again listened to music and sang along, especially to the last CD we¡¯d picked.

    Back at the ranch where Diane and her family were staying, I helped her carry a few shopping bags to the porch.

    "I had a lot of fun today, thank you," Diane said as we reached the porch steps, climbing up a couple.

    "I¡¯m glad you had fun. I did too," I said, smiling as I handed her the bags, which weren¡¯t very heavy.

    Now standing on higher ground, Diane¡ªwho was usually much shorter than me¡ªwas directly at eye level. Noticing this, both of us fell into a pleasant silence. I felt like I could have stood there for hours.

    "I¡¯ll head inside," Diane finally said, breaking the silence after several seconds.

    "Sure," I replied, swallowing nervously. Diane nodded again and climbed the last step. "See you tomorrow," I added before she could open the door.

    "Yes, I can¡¯t wait," Diane said with a cheerful smile before quickly stepping inside the house.

    My steps back to ''Debbie'' felt strangely light, and before I knew it, I was driving back to the hospital, almost three hours ''late''.

    "I¡¯m sorry. Looks like my watch is broken," House declared exaggeratedly when I walked into the diagnostics lounge. He was reading a magazine, and his comment made Chase laugh while Cameron rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Either that, or the celebrity here is three hours late," House added sarcastically, pointing at me.

    "I don¡¯t have a schedule," I replied, exasperated, dragging a chair toward the table.

    "No, you don¡¯t. But you¡¯re usually punctual. You don¡¯t show up late without a ''special'' reason," House said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in slightly to scrutinize me.

    Knowing nothing I said would stop House from analyzing me, I decided to ignore him, hoping he wouldn¡¯t figure anything out from my reaction.

    "Obviously, he¡¯s coming from a date," Cameron said suddenly, smirking, taking everyone¡ªincluding me¡ªby surprise before House could say anything.

    "It''s no fun if I don''t figure it out myself," House declared, frowning in fake annoyance. "But yeah, you''re right, the stupid smile he had when he walked in was enough," he continued, shaking his head, seemingly disappointed in himself.

    "I wasn''t on a date. We just went to the mall," I quickly said, defending myself for some reason.

    "That''s a date," Chase, who was reading a book, said calmly.

    "Yup," Cameron agreed, nodding with a smile as she looked at me.

    "So, another cheerleader?" House asked, leaning back in his chair and raising one eyebrow suggestively.

    Why did I come here in the first place?

    ---

    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t expecting the reception this new storyline is getting, as I said, it''s literally a new world for me when writing (like everything else obviously, but romance is much more complicated).

    I read each and every one of your comments, and I appreciate them so much, I implore you, if you have any advice on this matter, please give it. I don''t promise to follow each one to the letter, but I do promise to always keep them in mind.

    Now, for those asking about other aspects in the story¡ªfootball and the time with House¡ª first based on what I researched, high school football operates on a seasonal basis, which I didn¡¯t know when I first wrote about it. Do I want to continue exploring that topic? Absolutely, but I¡¯ll need some time to think it through (especially regarding Coach Cooper).

    I¡¯m not sure how these chapters will be received after a few more, but obviously, Diane¡¯s "arc" will last for a few more chapters until it settles properly into the story.

    For now, we can expect one or two more chapters fully focused on the relationship, followed by others that aren¡¯t entirely centered on it.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I''m not Magnus Carlsen.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 82

    It''s the end of the semester, again, projects and exams.

    For the first time I have to say that I have a couple of chapters prepared so I''m not under any pressure, I have the chapters for 3 weeks. So don''t worry about a missing weekly chapter.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    The days passed. The next day, as I had told Diane, I took her to see a movie at the theater¡ªa completely new experience for her. She received everything with excitement, from buying popcorn and candy before entering the screening to being amazed by the number of seats and the size of the screen.

    As for me, I only caught bits and pieces of the movie. It was about a man with scissors for hands, but I found Diane¡¯s reaction to it much more interesting. Completely captivated and occasionally moved, she didn¡¯t take her eyes off the screen, even as she mechanically ate popcorn.

    ¡°What a beautiful story,¡± Diane declared with a smile on her face as we left the theater. ¡°So tragic and romantic, don¡¯t you think?¡± she asked, looking directly into my eyes.

    ¡°Totally,¡± I replied, embarrassed to admit I hadn¡¯t paid much attention to the movie, trying to sound as serious as possible.

    ¡°A doomed love, society as the judge, and the duality between beauty and monstrosity¡ªso Shakespearean,¡± Diane continued enthusiastically as we walked side by side. ¡°Are all movies like this? Such powerful social critiques?¡± she asked, holding onto my arm with her eyes wide open.

    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle and shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I said, recalling the movies Georgie, David, and Brock had shown me in the past. ¡°At least, not as deep as your analysis,¡± I added amusedly. Someone might argue that _Rambo_ was a critique of the treatment of traumatized veterans and not just about an extremely muscular man kicking ass.

    ¡°I definitely want to watch more movies,¡± Diane declared, pressing my arm as she looked at me with an exaggerated glimmer of interest.

    ¡°We can always rent movies. There¡¯s a store next to the gym,¡± I replied, shrugging slightly and smiling at her.

    ¡°That would be great,¡± Diane said, biting her lip and nodding.

    The next day, we went to mini-golf¡ªa place I had visited before with my friends, where Alan had easily outshone everyone. The friendly competition made Diane enjoy herself immensely, and by the final hole, she was playing with a huge smile on her face.

    On Wednesday, we went to the arcade, where Diane won a giant stuffed animal thanks to a lucky shot I made on one of the random machines.

    On Thursday, with the temperature spiking, I made a bold decision: we headed to the mall.

    ¡°Are we going to listen to music again today?¡± Diane asked with some excitement. Despite the heat, she was still wearing a sweater, looking completely comfortable.

    ¡°No, I think it¡¯s time for you to overcome your fear of the sea. I¡¯m going to teach you how to swim,¡± I declared, smiling, amused by her surprised reaction, though I felt a bit embarrassed myself.

    ¡°Swim? Where?¡± Diane asked, completely concerned.

    ¡°There are public pools,¡± I said, shrugging slightly. I hadn¡¯t swum in ages and had never been to Medford¡¯s public pool, even though I knew it was there. But thinking it would be a fun activity, it didn¡¯t seem like a bad idea.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t have a change of clothes, or a towel, or sunscreen, or¡ª¡± Diane started listing excuses, clearly nervous and possibly afraid of getting in the water.

    ¡°Diane,¡± I said seriously, taking one of her hands as I noticed she was starting to panic. I immediately interrupted her rapid string of excuses. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. There¡¯s always a trained lifeguard on duty, watching over everyone,¡± I reassured her, squeezing her hand comfortingly. ¡°And besides, I¡¯ll be there too. I won¡¯t let anything happen to you,¡± I added slowly.

    I knew that even if Diane somehow ended up drowning or getting hurt, I had the tools and knowledge to rescue her immediately. Of course, I wouldn¡¯t take my eyes off her for a second.

    Opening and closing her mouth slightly, as if she wanted to say something, Diane nodded slowly with her eyes wide open. ¡°All right,¡± she murmured after a moment.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± I declared excitedly, clenching my fists, only then realizing I was still holding her hand. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, letting go of her hand.

    At the mall, I left Diane with one of the store clerks in a sportswear shop while I went to buy the other essentials: sunscreen, sandals, towels, and even a new swimsuit for myself, as the old ones were a bit tight.

    When I returned to Diane, who was still with the clerk, I noticed the clerk smiling at me as she gently nudged Diane. Diane, now dressed more appropriately for the weather¡ªwith a straw hat and a long shirt covering her from shoulders to knees¡ªstood avoiding eye contact entirely, holding a bag that likely contained the clothes she had arrived in.

    The clerk standing behind Diane exaggeratedly cleared her throat, opening her eyes wide at me.

    Very subtle.

    ¡°You look beautiful, Diane,¡± I said, taking the clerk¡¯s hint and smiling at my friend.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Diane said with a small smile, finally making eye contact.

    After paying for Diane¡¯s things, the clerk said with a big smile, ¡°Thank you for your purchase. Come back soon.¡± Then, turning directly to Diane, she ominously added, ¡°Good luck.¡±

    ¡°Why did she wish you luck?¡± I asked Diane curiously as we walked through the mall toward the parking lot.

    ¡°I told her I was learning to swim today,¡± Diane replied immediately¡ªa good lie, though still a lie.

    Studying Diane¡¯s profile, I decided not to press further, trying to recall where the pool was.

    After a few minutes of driving through the city, we arrived at Medford¡¯s public pool.

    I immediately regretted my choice of day. On such a hot day, it was obvious other people had had the same idea.

    "We don''t have to go in if you don''t want to," I said calmly, looking Diane seriously in the eyes.

    The pool was surprisingly large, with plenty of empty spaces, but outside it, nearly all the pool chairs were occupied by families eating sandwiches and chips.

    There were many kids running around chasing each other despite the lifeguard''s stern warnings, women lying back trying to tan under the blazing sun, and I even recognized a couple of classmates from school.

    "No... it''s fine," Diane said with difficulty, nervously eyeing the crowd.

    "Are you sure?" I asked, concerned, as it was obvious she wasn''t comfortable with the idea¡ªand I couldn''t blame her.

    "Yeah, I want to do this," Diane said with determination, apparently summoning courage, and quickly got out of the car.

    "Okay," I murmured, surprised by her sudden initiative, following her out with our things.

    "PJ?" someone called out from the other side of my car just as I walked to Diane¡¯s side.

    "Kat?" I said in surprise as I turned to see my friend getting out of a truck.

    "What are you doing here?" Kat asked, confused.

    "Here at the public pool? I always come here for a shower. Great water pressure," I said sarcastically, smiling.

    "Oh, shut up, you smartass," Kat said, rolling her eyes in exasperation but smiling.

    "Hey, Mandella, what are you guys doing here?" Kat¡¯s friend Mandella appeared from the other side of the truck, joining the conversation.

    "Hi, PJ. I''m the lifeguard," Mandella said cheerfully.

    "It''s so hot today that I accepted Mandella''s invitation to come to the pool," Kat explained.

    "Makes sense," I said, nodding.

    "Hello," Diane said nervously, stepping closer and drawing everyone''s attention.

    "Oh, I''m so sorry, Diane. Where are my manners?" I said, embarrassed at forgetting to introduce her. "Kat, Mandella, this is Diane," I said, smiling at the two girls as I introduced my friend.

    "So this is the famous Diane," Mandella said with a smile, studying her closely.

    "Nice to meet you," Kat said, forcing a smile as she stared intently at Diane.

    "Likewise," Diane replied, avoiding eye contact and shifting nervously on her feet.

    As Kat silently scrutinized Diane, Mandella eyed Kat, while Diane stared at the ground. The four of us suddenly found ourselves in an incredibly awkward silence.

    "So... shall we go in?" I asked, breaking the silence because I couldn''t bear it any longer.

    "Yes, I need to start my shift," Mandella said, suddenly remembering she had to work and gaining energy.

    "PJ told us you''re from Boston," Kat said, still eyeing Diane as we walked toward the pool entrance.

    "Correct. I came to Medford as a guest of East Texas Tech to give a lecture on the advancements of a mathematics problem I''m working on," Diane explained with the formality she always adopted when meeting someone new.

    "Okay," Kat said slowly, dragging out the word as she glanced sideways at me.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "Just give her time," I mouthed silently in explanation.

    After paying a small fee and storing some of our things in the available lockers, we reached the bathrooms, following Mandella''s lead.

    "You have to shower before entering the pool. I recommend keeping your sandals on," Mandella said with a slight look of disgust as she grabbed her things.

    "Athlete¡¯s foot is no joke," I said seriously, making Diane nod in agreement. "Tinea pedis," I clarified for Kat and Mandella, who looked intrigued.

    "You could¡¯ve just said that," Kat said with a sarcastic snort.

    "Come on, Diane," Mandella said with a wide smile, sounding inexplicably excited. Diane glanced at me nervously for a second before nodding and following Mandella into the women¡¯s locker room.

    "Don¡¯t worry; we won¡¯t tell her anything embarrassing about you," Kat declared maliciously, raising an eyebrow as she walked backward behind the other two girls.

    Smiling in amusement, I headed into the men¡¯s locker room.

    A few minutes later, now dressed only in my swim trunks, I came out.

    Since I had started exercising over five months ago, combined with the diet Case had put me on, I had visibly bulked up. My body fat percentage was low, and I had gained significant muscle mass, making my abs and the muscles in my arms and legs more prominent.

    Standing outside the bathrooms for just a few seconds, I could feel myself becoming the center of attention for a few people. Trying to ignore the not-so-subtle stares of shameless onlookers, I spent the rest of the time waiting.

    "Oh, look at you, Duncan. You need to go shirtless more often," Mandella said in surprise as she emerged first from the women¡¯s locker room, wearing her red lifeguard bodysuit.

    "Sure thing, Mandella. From now on, I¡¯ll go to school shirtless," I said, shaking my head with a chuckle.

    "You¡¯d be doing a lot of people a big favor," Mandella declared unabashedly, still staring at my body. "Okay, enough," she muttered to herself, returning her gaze to my eyes. "Get ready," she added seriously, narrowing her eyes before walking away, maintaining intense eye contact.

    "What?" I asked, confused. "Get ready for what?" I asked again, only to get my answer.

    Diane, for the first time since I had met her, came out of the locker room without her glasses. She was wearing a yellow two-piece swimsuit that revealed much more of her incredibly pale skin on her abdomen and arms¡ªparts I had never seen fully exposed, as she always wore a sweater.

    I didn¡¯t know why I was so surprised; I knew perfectly well what was going to happen.

    _Cough, cough._ Kat exaggeratedly cleared her throat, snapping me out of my daze as she stood beside Diane.

    "Sorry," I said quickly, realizing Diane was obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed by my stare.

    "It''s okay. Did you know that the first modern women''s swimsuit was created in the 1860s and consisted of a long-sleeved blouse and a long skirt that covered the entire body?" Diane said, avoiding eye contact and slightly blushing as she rubbed one of her arms, seemingly trying to hide her embarrassment with facts.

    "I didn''t know that." Fortunately, those days are behind us. Struggling to swallow, I replied, avoiding saying what I was really thinking.

    "Well, now you do," Kat declared sarcastically, catching both Diane and me off guard.

    Somehow, I had forgotten Kat was there.

    "Oh, here, we already applied ours," Diane said, finally looking me in the face as she handed me a small bottle of sunscreen she had in her other hand.

    "Thanks," I replied, staring into Diane''s eyes and doing my best to keep my gaze from wandering below her chin.

    Skin cancer is no joke.

    While applying sunscreen to my torso, I noticed both Diane and Kat staring at me, much like I had probably just done with Diane moments ago. "My face is up here," I joked, despite not being much better myself, surprising both girls to varying degrees.

    "Shut up," Kat immediately dismissed the joke, rolling her eyes with an exasperated huff.

    "Sorry," Diane muttered, bowing her head in complete embarrassment.

    Once I was satisfied with the sunscreen on the front of my body, I briefly considered asking Diane to help me with my back but quickly discarded the idea, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable. For an equally brief moment, I thought about asking Kat, but for some reason, that also felt wrong, so I dismissed the idea entirely.

    "Excuse me, could you help me apply sunscreen on my back?" I asked a rather large woman, likely around Mom¡¯s or Mrs. Cooper¡¯s age, making my decision.

    "Oh, sure!" she said enthusiastically, practically snatching the sunscreen from my hands. She firmly grabbed my arm to turn me around and immediately began applying sunscreen before I had the chance to regret it.

    I had made a terrible mistake.

    "And you''re done," the woman finally said after several seconds of slowly rubbing my back with unsettling deliberation. I could hear the smile on her face.

    Feeling violated by a woman several years older than me and ignoring Diane''s incredulous look and Kat''s amused grin, I walked to the edge of the pool and rigidly let myself fall into the water, needing to cleanse my body.

    Almost immediately after me, Kat also jumped into the pool. "Hey, lover boy, your girlfriend is looking for you," she said teasingly, pointing discreetly with her gaze from where she swam next to me.

    Unable to resist, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the same woman sitting on a pool chair, smiling at me.

    "Nope," I said, making a mental note never to look in that direction again. I swam to the edge of the pool where Diane sat, dipping her feet in the water. "Are you ready?" I asked, floating in front of her and smiling, trying to calm any fears she might have.

    "I think so," Diane replied, nodding slightly.

    "Ready for what?" Kat asked curiously, not far from us.

    "PJ is going to teach me how to swim," Diane responded easily, now maintaining eye contact with Kat. It seemed they were getting along.

    "Oh," Kat said, lifting her head as if she''d finally solved a puzzle. "I''ll go join Mandella," she added with a small smile before swimming slowly toward her friend at the lifeguard stand, not without first murmuring just loud enough for me to hear, "Goody two-shoes."

    "See you," Diane said, biting her lip slightly as she waved at Kat.

    "Look, Diane, the pool isn¡¯t that deep. My shoulders are above the water," I said, standing up to show her while ignoring Kat''s joke. "No matter what happens, I can hold you, and you won''t drown," I added, lifting my hands out of the water and offering them to Diane.

    "All right," Diane said nervously as she slowly took my hands and gave a small hop to enter the pool.

    Standing fully upright, I was well above the water, but due to the height difference, the water came up to Diane''s chest.

    "There you go, relax," I said, holding Diane by her forearms to help her keep her head above water. I smiled reassuringly as I felt her fingers gripping tightly into my arms. "Kick your legs slowly, that¡¯s it," I added, nodding at her movements.

    "Don¡¯t let go," Diane implored nervously, moving her legs.

    "I won''t," I assured her calmly, ignoring the slight pain from her nails digging into my arms. "Just keep kicking slowly," I said, taking tiny steps underwater to gently guide her movements. I could feel the pressure from her grip gradually lessening as she grew more comfortable. "You¡¯re doing amazing."

    "What now?" Diane asked proudly, smiling after a few seconds when she realized she wasn¡¯t sinking.

    "Now that you know how to float by using your feet, you''re going to float without moving," I said, gently pulling one of my arms free from her now much weaker grip as I moved to her side. "Sorry," I apologized, placing my hand behind her knees to position her.

    "PJ," Diane said nervously, pressing firmly on the arm she still held as she felt her body shift to a more horizontal position.

    "Relax, I need my other arm. I promise I won¡¯t let you sink," I said softly, leaning closer to her and speaking in a calming tone, waiting for her to feel safe enough to let go of my arm.

    After patiently waiting for a moment, Diane finally released my arm, allowing me to gently support her back. "Try not to tense up, relax your body. I¡¯m right here, don¡¯t worry," I said calmly as I adjusted her position.

    Once Diane was calm and still, I slowly removed my hands, watching intently as she floated relaxed, letting herself be carried by the water''s ripples.

    So immersed was I in watching Diane¡¯s peaceful state that I forgot we were in a public space with other people. Two kids, likely racing, passed quickly by us splashing Diane.

    Immediately, as water splashed on her face, panic overtook Diane. She began moving erratically, causing her to sink. Fortunately, I hadn''t moved far and kept my hands close, allowing me to stabilize her and pull her toward me.

    Feeling something solid to hold onto, Diane immediately wrapped her arms tightly around my neck while using her legs to cling to my torso, breathing heavily near my ear and coughing.

    The suddenness of the situation forced me to quickly regain my balance to prevent both of us from sinking. Supporting her by her back, I waited patiently for her to calm down.

    "Better?" I asked softly after a long moment, once Diane had finally relaxed.

    "Yeah," Diane murmured, slowly loosening her grip on my neck and pulling away, avoiding eye contact entirely. "That was scary," she added after a few seconds of silence, her hands still resting on my shoulders as she finally looked at me, embarrassed.

    "Yeah, sorry, I didn¡¯t see the kids," I said, holding Diane by her waist and gesturing with my head toward the children still racing up and down the pool.

    "It¡¯s okay. You got me," Diane said softly, nodding and maintaining eye contact.

    "I said I would," I replied seriously, momentarily lost in her eyes.

    "Is Diane okay?" at that moment Mandela''s playful voice was heard from the edge of the pool.

    "Yeah, she¡¯s fine, just a scare," I answered, releasing Diane, who was clearly embarrassed, stretched out to grab the edge of the pool.

    Mandella continued to watch me with an amused smirk.

    "Yeah, I noticed... well, _everyone_ noticed," Mandella said sarcastically, shrugging slightly and gesturing toward the rest of the people in the pool.

    Aside from the kids, who were too engrossed in their own games and fun, many others seemed particularly interested in us¡ªespecially the women, who, for some reason, were smiling at me in a strange way.

    "Yeah, okay..." I mumbled uncomfortably, sinking slightly into the water.

    "Just try to remember this is a public space," Mandella added with a sarcastic smile, motioning with her hands in front of her.

    "I¡¯ll keep that in mind," I said, nodding slowly, still embarrassed.

    "Yeah, you will," she said smugly, winking before returning to her lifeguard chair, clearly amused.

    "Sorry about that," Diane said, still holding on to the pool''s edge, clearly ashamed.

    "It¡¯s not your fault," I reassured her, smiling warmly. "We need to keep going," I added calmly, raising my hand and waiting for her to take it.

    Looking worriedly at my hand for several seconds, Diane nodded, seemingly encouraging herself to continue before taking my hand tightly.

    For the next couple of hours, I patiently taught Diane the basics of swimming, ending the day after another shower in the public facilities and saying goodbye to Kat and Mandella.

    I took Diane back to the ranch before heading to the hospital for the rest of the day, where nothing really important happened.

    The next day, Friday, during the last class period, I was focused on finishing the day¡¯s assignment when the PA system crackled to life.

    "PJ Duncan, please report to the Principal¡¯s office and bring your belongings. PJ Duncan," the familiar monotone voice of the school secretary announced.

    Having seen how people reacted when someone was called to the Principal¡¯s office, I packed my things into my backpack and stood up, bracing for the inevitable mocking _¡°Oooohs¡±_ that followed immediately.

    "Why do they always do that?" I heard Sheldon murmur as I passed him¡ªthe only person in class who wasn¡¯t staring at me.

    Amused, I left the room under Mrs. Ingram¡¯s permissive gaze.

    When I reached the Principal¡¯s office, the secretary looked at me sternly and motioned for me to enter.

    For some strange reason, the atmosphere was heavy.

    "PJ is here," Principal Petersen said seriously to whoever was on the other end of the phone call. He stood up and placed the phone on his desk, leaving it off the hook.

    The entire situation was making me incredibly nervous.

    "Talk to your father," Principal Petersen said cryptically putting his hand on my shoulder as he passed me, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

    Something bad had happened.

    "Dad, what¡¯s wrong? Is Mom okay? Teddy? Gabe?" I asked quickly, feeling my heart pounding in my ears as I grabbed the phone.

    Breathing heavily, I waited for a response, but after a few seconds of silence, I started to think the call had been disconnected and was about to pull the phone away from my ear.

    "Did you run? You sound out of breath," a voice joked on the other end of the line.

    "House?" I asked incredulously, immediately recognizing the voice and knowing he was the only one capable of such a ''joke.''

    "There¡¯s a case. You need to come in," House said calmly, ignoring my question entirely.

    "You¡¯re an idiot!" I exclaimed in a low voice furiously, holding my head in my free hand as the tension left my body in frustration.

    "Wow, someone owes a dollar to the swear jar," House replied sarcastically. "I just said there was an emergency in home, I didn¡¯t lie, your director was the one who made up the rest of the story in his head."

    "I can¡¯t believe this," I muttered into the phone, still trying to process what had just happened.

    "Really?" House asked mockingly.

    "No, you¡¯re right, coming from you I can believe it," I admitted, correcting myself.

    "I know, I¡¯m always right," he said smugly, I could practically hear the smirk on his face. "Anyway, there¡¯s a case, and I need you here now."

    "I can¡¯t. I still have forty minutes of class," I replied, frustrated as I checked my watch, deciding to ignore his tasteless joke.

    "Ah, I see," with obvious falsehood in his words House submissively declared. "There¡¯s just a man dying and a very sad family. No big deal. I¡¯m sure your basic algebra class is far more important," he added a moment later, his words dripping with sarcasm, making me clench my jaw.

    Shaking my head furiously, I pulled the phone away from my face before snapping, "I¡¯ll be there in ten minutes," and slamming it back onto the receiver, ending the call.

    ---

    Every good story has a ''beach'' chapter, in this case the pool.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 83

    Taking advantage of being alone in Principal Petersen''s office with a phone at my disposal, for the first time since I had obtained it during my first drive with Diane around Medford, I dialed the number of the house her family was renting.

    Hoping that whoever answered on the other end wouldn¡¯t be Mrs. Adler, I waited as the phone rang.

    "Hello?" After a couple of rings, a child''s voice finally responded on the other end of the line.

    "Frank," I said, relieved not to face an awkward moment. "Hey, buddy, it''s PJ, Diane''s friend," I explained calmly.

    "Oh, the one with the nice car," the boy said after a second, realization dawning in his voice.

    "That''s the one," I replied, amused by how he remembered me. "Is Diane there?" I asked after a moment.

    "Mom and Diane are working on a problem. Mom doesn''t like being interrupted," Frank said irritably.

    "Okay, then it¡¯s best not to bother them," I agreed seriously. "Can I ask you a favor?"

    "I guess," Frank said impatiently.

    "When your mom and sister are done with whatever they''re doing, can you tell Diane I can''t pick her up today? I had to go to the hospital," I said slowly, trying to make sure the boy would remember everything. "Got it?"

    "Yeah, when they''re done¡ªdon''t come for her¡ªhospital. Got it," Frank repeated monotonously.

    "Okay..." I said slowly, uncertain if the boy really understood. "Thanks, buddy next time I see you I will bring you some candys, a lot of chocolate."

    "Cool thanks," the boy said, immediately hanging up.

    "Good, see you," I muttered to the silent phone, hanging it up once more.

    Preparing my ''game face'', I left with my belongings, only to find Principal Petersen and his secretary waiting outside the office.

    "Is everything all right, son?" Principal Petersen asked, his brow slightly furrowed with concern.

    "It should be, sir," I said, nodding and avoiding his eyes, focusing instead on his feet. "But I need to go to the hospital. Will that be a problem?"

    "Oh, no, absolutely not," Principal Petersen said quickly. "You go; I''ll explain it to Mrs. Ingram."

    I had no idea what lies exactly House had fed Principal Petersen, and I didn''t want to find out.

    "Thank you, sir," I said, nodding to him, and then turned to the secretary. "Ma''am," I added, giving her a small nod before leaving the room and heading for the parking lot.

    Sticking to the speed limit, I quickly arrived at the hospital. After briefly greeting the nurses, who seemed surprised by my sudden arrival, I made my way to the diagnostic lounge.

    "Twelve minutes," House called out as I entered the lounge, oddly lying on the floor of his office with headphones on, connected to his record player. Raising his voice to check his watch, he continued, "I see that the word of a man isn''t something they teach at your precious school," removing his headphones and speaking at a much more normal volume.

    "Well, I don''t expect to learn it here either, at least not from you," I said with a fake smile, taking one of the free chairs.

    "Yeah, I¡¯ve got way more important things to teach you," House declared arrogantly, struggling to get up from the floor.

    "Sure, sure," I said sarcastically. "Now, why am I here?"

    "John Henry Giles," House said, enunciating each part of the name as if it were something important.

    "Who?" I asked genuinely, not knowing who he was talking about, causing House to frown incredulously.

    "No, seriously, what do they teach you at that school of yours?" House asked, strangely offended.

    "Unimportant things like math, history and English," I responded with a shrug, ironic.

    "And they have the audacity to call themselves educators," House said, shaking his head in disapproval.

    "I know, can you believe it?" I asked exaggeratedly, keeping my face completely serious. "Now, can you tell me why a jazz musician is important?"

    "I thought you didn''t know who he was," House said, raising an eyebrow as he slowly dragged his chair behind his desk.

    "All the record covers on the floor have his name," I said casually, pointing to the stacks of records scattered a few steps from his desk.

    "Oh, look who''s starting to pay attention," House said with a half-smile, clasping his hands in front of his face. "What¡¯s important here isn¡¯t that he¡¯s a musician; it¡¯s figuring out why he¡¯s paralyzed."

    "So, ''a dying man and an extremely sad family,'' huh?" I asked irritably, recalling what he had told me over the phone.

    "Well, there¡¯s no clear reason for the paralysis, and with a sudden, simple case of lobar pneumonia, he doesn¡¯t have long left," House said, shamelessly justifying his lie. "And surely his family, if he has any, would be extremely sad," he added with a shrug.

    "So, let me be clear¡ªyou made me ditch school to work on a case that, for now, is just lobar pneumonia?" I asked slowly, narrowing my eyes at him.

    "That''s exactly what I did," House said, smiling without a shred of shame.

    "Got it," I said, resigned, knowing that getting angry with him would be pointless.

    Before either of us could say more, the office door was suddenly opened by Dr. Foreman, who looked conflicted.

    "Before you say anything, the kid doesn¡¯t officially work at the hospital, so he doesn¡¯t have to listen to you, even if it¡¯s your case," House said defensively, raising his hand immediately.

    "It¡¯s not even your case?" I asked incredulously, looking at House, who merely shrugged one shoulder and tilted his head.

    "That doesn¡¯t matter. There¡¯s no case anymore. He signed a DNR," Dr. Foreman said seriously, frowning as he checked his watch. "You pulled him out of school?" he asked, pointing at me with a clipboard and glaring at House.

    "Yeah, but that''s not important," House dismissed easily. "Did you tell him it might not be ALS?" he asked, frowning interested.

    Without the patient''s chart to review their medical history, and relying solely on the bits and pieces House had shared about the patient''s condition, ALS seemed like a solid guess after ruling out various other possibilities, which I was sure other doctors had already done. It also accounted for the pneumonia.

    "No," Dr. Foreman responded with a sigh.

    "Well, no wonder he signed," House said sarcastically, exhaling loudly. "Who wouldn¡¯t?"

    "I started him on I.V. steroids and Synthroid," Dr. Foreman said, ignoring House''s comment.

    "Great," House declared sarcastically. "If it were my case, I''d be adding a little IVIG to the mix," he added.

    "For his pneumonia?" Dr. Foreman asked.

    "That''s my story, and I''m sticking to it," House replied, raising his hands.

    "He doesn''t want anything done¡ªno treatment," Dr. Foreman said, shaking his head, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

    "DNR means ''do not resuscitate,'' not ''do not treat,''" House commented sarcastically, smiling at Dr. Foreman. "If you do nothing, it doesn¡¯t matter which one of us is right," he declared, completely unmoved.

    With House''s words, Dr. Foreman simply frowned and walked out of the office, clearly more conflicted than when he had entered.

    "And hang on to that DNR," House said, stopping Dr. Foreman for a second. "That signature could be worth a lot of money real soon," he added sarcastically.

    "Why doesn''t IVIG make more sense than ALS with pneumonia?" I asked, interested, once Dr. Foreman was gone.

    "ALS is a death sentence, plus it''s a disease of exclusion," House declared, leaning back in his chair.

    "So we need to exclude more diagnoses," I commented, immediately understanding his reasoning, speaking more to myself than to him.

    "You make me so proud," House exaggeratedly remarked, pretending to wipe away fake tears.

    "Shut up," I said, rolling my eyes in exasperation. "Do you have the chart?" I asked a moment later, unable to contain my curiosity.

    "Four minutes and twenty seconds," House said with an oddly pleased smile. "I thought it¡¯d take you at least five minutes to ask," he continued, sounding slightly disappointed as he reached for a file from his desk drawer. "Read this on the way; you¡¯ve got hours to catch up," he added, slowly getting up with the help of his cane.

    "Of course," I murmured sarcastically under my breath, shaking my head in exasperation as I followed House out of the diagnostic lounge.

    As we walked, I read the patient''s chart. Dr. Hamilton, the primary physician for the case, had performed an extensive battery of tests, treatments, and even surgeries, addressing many of the patient''s ailments but failing to diagnose the paralysis in his legs beyond ALS¡ªa reasonable conclusion, though not a good one.

    "Why not do an MRI here?" I asked House, still reading the file as I walked behind him.

    "If you can convince Foreman to do it, I''ll give you a candy," House replied sarcastically without looking back.

    "Got it," I murmured softly, knowing I was probably the worst person to try convincing Dr. Foreman of anything.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    By the time we arrived at the clinic, I hadn¡¯t reached a new or better conclusion than House or even Dr. Hamilton, but at least I wasn¡¯t completely lost on the case anymore.

    For the next full hour, House and I¡ªwell, mostly I¡ªtreated the patients arriving at the clinic. As usual, there weren¡¯t many interesting cases.

    "Mr. Brown, please come in," I announced from the consultation room door, wearing House¡¯s lab coat and reading from the patient¡¯s chart. I smiled slightly at the man, who stood up with some difficulty.

    "Untreated diabetes," I said to House as I entered the room well before the patient could get there. House raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

    One way the sarcastic man and I had found to entertain ourselves was by challenging me to diagnose patients before they even entered the room.

    "Good afternoon," the man said, looking slightly embarrassed when he saw two people in the room, one of whom was practically reclining in a chair, reading a rather suggestive magazine.

    Seeing him up close, my initial diagnosis seemed even more accurate¡ªshoes at least two sizes too tight, hairless hands, powdered sugar stains on his pants, two obviously greasy napkins poorly tucked into one of his pockets, and noticeable excess weight.

    "Good afternoon, Mr. Brown. Please have a seat," I said, pointing to the bed in the center of the room and smiling politely.

    "Don''t mind me; I¡¯m just here for quality control," House declared shamelessly, noticing the patient¡¯s eyes were entirely focused on him as he moved his magazine.

    "What¡¯s the problem, Mr. Brown?" I asked quickly, drawing the patient¡¯s attention away and avoiding the urge to sigh at House¡¯s complete lack of decorum.

    "Well..." the man said hesitantly, glancing at House and then at me, stretching the word as his volume faded.

    Erectile issues¡ªeasy diagnosis. Diabetes plus embarrassment in a man over thirty.

    "My nature isn¡¯t what it used to be," the man finally said after a few seconds. "The little man has lost some bounce in his step," he added, gesturing toward his pants with a small, sheepish smile.

    I knew it.

    "He needs to crank it up, have himself some fun this weekend," the man continued, apparently without much thought about how casually he was discussing his penis in the third person. "I¡¯m worried he¡¯ll never be the same."

    Sharing a quick glance with House, who, like me, had clearly noticed the man¡¯s strange habit of referring to his penis this way, I asked, "Are you talking about your penis?" despite already knowing the answer.

    "In the third person," House added from his chair with a broad grin, his words dripping with sarcasm.

    "Me and him... two people," the man said, pointing to his face and then his pants, raising his hands.

    "Separate vacations? That¡¯d be a drag for one of you," House declared sarcastically.

    "It''s a great legal strategy; you can always blame him," I added sarcastically, unable to resist, causing House to point at me with mock envy¡ªprobably annoyed he hadn¡¯t thought of the joke first.

    "Yeah, it''s gotten me into some trouble," Mr. Brown replied, playing along with a playful grin.

    Okay... too much fraternization with the patient. I really didn¡¯t need to know that.

    "The issue is you need to keep your insulin levels steady," I said seriously, deciding not to give the odd man any more room to chat.

    "Insulin?" the man asked, surprised.

    "Yeah, the stuff you take for the diabetes..." I said calmly, noting how he seemed even more startled. "That you forgot to tell the nurse about," I added, judging the man seriously. Diabetes was a dangerous condition if not properly managed.

    "So, he''s not performing correctly because I''m not taking care of myself?" the man asked worriedly.

    "Basically," I answered, nodding slowly.

    "I get it," the man said, staring at his hands with concern.

    Thankfully, Viagra hadn¡¯t been invented yet, or I was sure Mr. Brown would have ignored his health entirely just to make sure ''he'' was taken more seriously.

    "Okay, thanks, doctor," the man said as he stood up, offering his hand for a shake.

    "You''re welcome," I replied with a smile, deciding not to correct him to avoid any awkwardness. At that moment, House¡¯s pager went off, prompting him to get up and set his magazine aside.

    "Just follow your treatment plan, exercise more, and please cut out processed sugars," I said seriously, patting the man¡¯s shoulder. "That includes donuts," I added, making the man¡¯s eyes widen comically¡ªI¡¯d been right about the powdered sugar stain on his pants.

    "Come on, kid. Code blue," House said, walking out of the room right behind the patient.

    Throwing House¡¯s coat onto the chair the man had occupied seconds ago, I quickly followed him.

    "He signed a DNR," I said nervously as I walked behind House. There were many things I could imagine House doing; going after a patient with a DNR wasn¡¯t even close to the dumbest on that list.

    Contrary to House¡¯s usual behavior, he didn¡¯t make any sarcastic comments or cutting remarks. Instead, he simply walked in silence.

    "House¡ª" I began to say, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Diane down one of the hallways we needed to cross. She looked completely worried, walking alongside a nurse who wore a confused expression. "I¡¯ll catch up in a minute," I said, stopping mid-step and heading toward Diane without waiting for House to acknowledge me.

    "Ah, PJ," Nurse Dolores said when she saw me. "Do you know her? She¡¯s been asking abou¡ª" she started to say, but before she could finish, Diane threw herself into my arms with force.

    "Whoa," I said, catching her, surprised. "What¡¯s wrong, Diane? Is everything okay?" I asked, holding her by the shoulders and looking at her with concern.

    "I should be the one asking that," Diane exclaimed incredulously, stepping back but still holding my arms, her frown deep with obvious anger.

    I¡¯d seen Diane upset before, but this was the first time I saw true anger on her face. Given the height difference and her need to tilt her head up to look me in the eye, it was a little amusing.

    "What? Why?" I asked, confused, fighting the urge to smile.

    "Frank told me you had to go to the hospital for an emergency," Diane said, scanning my body. "I thought you¡¯d been in an accident."

    "No, I¡¯m okay," I said slowly, trying to recall what I¡¯d told her brother. "There¡¯s a patient, so I had to come quickly."

    "So... not you?" Diane asked, lowering her hands slowly.

    "Nope. John Henry Giles," I replied, amused.

    "Who?" Diane asked, frowning.

    "A musician" I answered easily.

    "I realize that makes more sense. I¡¯m sorry for this outburst," Diane said, suddenly adopting the formal tone she always used when completely embarrassed. She stepped back. "Why would you call me if you were in an accident?" she quickly added, scoffing.

    "Well, we had plans," I replied, shrugging slightly amused at her nervousness.

    "Oh," Nurse Dolores murmured nearby, laughing softly. She was clearly entertained by the interaction between Diane and me.

    I¡¯d completely forgotten the nurse was still standing there, and judging by Diane¡¯s shocked and embarrassed expression, so had she.

    "Thanks for bringing her here, Dolores," I said with a slightly embarrassed smile, stepping closer to Diane and placing a hand on her back.

    "Anything for you, honey," the nurse said sweetly, smiling at me. "Diane," she added with a much more significant smile, saying goodbye to my friend.

    "That wasn¡¯t awkward at all," I said, exhaling dramatically.

    "I¡¯m sorry," Diane murmured, embarrassed.

    "It¡¯s okay; it wasn¡¯t your fault. I forgot she was there too," I replied, amused.

    "Not for that¡ªfor showing up here suddenly," Diane murmured, avoiding eye contact as she bit her lip lightly.

    "I understand why you came. You were just worried¡ªI get that," I said unintentionally smiling as I nodded. "I¡¯d have done the same if I thought something had happened to you," I added softly, smiling at her.

    "Well, from an anthropological and psychological perspective, concern for others is an integral part of our social relationships," Diane slowly declared, keeping eye contact. "The more you care about someone, the more that concern directly reflects the emotional connection you share," she added, her words and voice slowing further to a soft murmur.

    "Yeah," I said slowly, lost in Diane¡¯s eyes.

    "Hey, PJ," a doctor¡ªor at least someone wearing a lab coat¡ªcalled out, joking as they passed us.

    The sudden greeting startled both of us, making us step apart quickly. I hadn¡¯t realized how close we had been just a moment ago.

    "Hey," I said immediately.

    "Who was that?" Diane whispered, clearly as embarrassed as I was.

    "I don''t know," I replied with a slight chuckle, amused as I watched the doctor disappear at the next hallway intersection. "I have to go, I have work to do" I said, turning my attention back to Diane, speaking slowly, a bit disappointed.

    "Of course," Diane quickly replied, nodding formally, clearly still embarrassed.

    "Let me walk you to¡ªwait, how did you get here?" I asked, pausing before offering to take her to whoever had brought her, secretly hoping it wasn¡¯t her mother.

    "Hank brought me; he¡¯s in the waiting room," Diane answered easily.

    "Oh, okay. Let me walk you there," I murmured, relieved I wouldn¡¯t have to encounter Dr. Adler.

    Despite limited interaction with her over the past week, the thought wasn¡¯t appealing.

    Diane nodded seriously but remained quiet for a few seconds, swaying nervously on her feet without moving. "Are going to stay here all day?" she asked, looking me directly in the eyes.

    "Uh, no," I replied quickly, momentarily lost in her unusually large eyes. "In a couple of hours, I¡¯ll go train and then head home," I added, glancing at my watch.

    After my response, Diane continued to sway slightly on her feet as if waiting for something.

    "Did you finish all your ''work'' for today?" I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly to observe her reaction.

    "Yeah," Diane responded immediately.

    "So, you want to wait here in the hospital?" I asked seriously. "It can be boring," I warned.

    "Boring?" Diane asked incredulously, widening her eyes. "This is a teaching hospital, no?" she added, completely serious.

    "Among other things, I suppose," I replied ambivalently.

    "Then it can¡¯t be boring, it is a place of knowledge, learning is never boring" Diane said confidently.

    "You''re completely right," I commented, amused but keeping a straight face.

    "I know," Diane said without hesitation. "So, can I stay here?" she asked a moment later.

    "Of course, as long as your stepdad agrees," I said with a shrug. "I can take you home before I head back to my place."

    "Good," Diane said with a small smile, nodding.

    "So, did you really think I was dying?" I asked playfully as we walked toward the nearest waiting room.

    "Yeah," Diane replied calmly. "Hey! It¡¯s not funny," she added with a frown, noticing my grin.

    "Just a little," I teased, chuckling lightly causing Diane to press my arm.

    Not long after, we arrived at the waiting room, where Mr. Summers, wearing a completely new hat I hadn¡¯t seen before, was ignoring the amused looks some nurses at the reception desk were giving him.

    "Son, I''m really glad you''re okay," Mr. Summers said, holding his hat as he stood up, his exaggerated Southern drawl on full display.

    "Thank you, I¡¯m totally fine," I said quickly, nodding and smiling kindly at the man. "I¡¯m really sorry for the misunderstanding," I added slowly.

    "But it wasn¡¯t your fault; it was Frank who didn¡¯t deliver the message correctly," Diane said seriously, her eyes wide with confusion.

    "I should have made sure Frank had the right message or followed up myself," I explained, smiling at Diane.

    "The important thing is you¡¯re okay, son," Mr. Summers said kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ready to go now, Diane?" he asked, smiling at his stepdaughter.

    "About that, PJ promised to show me the hospital and then introduce me to the people he trains martial arts with," Diane said calmly. "So, can I stay here?" she asked, genuinely curious, not at all like a typical teenager seeking permission from an authority figure.

    "Oh," Mr. Summers murmured, nodding slowly. He raised one eyebrow as he looked at me before turning his attention back to Diane. "Did you finish your work with your mother?" he asked, one eyebrow still raised.

    "Yes," Diane answered immediately, prompting Mr. Summers to nod slowly again.

    "No later than ten?" he asked me, dropping his fake Southern accent entirely and furrowing his brow in complete seriousness.

    "Ten o¡¯clock at the latest," I confirmed, nodding with matching seriousness.

    "I''m going to get in so much trouble," Mr. Summers muttered, stroking his chin as he nodded. "Have fun, kid," he added, smiling at Diane. "And you, have moderate and responsible fun," he said a second later, pointing at me with a frown.

    "I¡¯d take that as a yes?" Diane asked, tilting her head to one side and smiling in slight surprise.

    "Yes," Mr. Summers replied with a grin, making Diane look at me in surprise.

    She probably wasn¡¯t used to getting permission to stay out late.

    "Well, thank you, Hank. See you at ten o''clock at the latest," Diane said formally, though I could tell she was trying not to smile as she bit her lip lightly.

    "Take care of her, okay?" Mr. Summers warned me seriously, pointing again before smiling one last time at Diane and walking toward the hospital exit.

    "Well, it seems I get to see where you work," Diane said with a slight smile, clasping her hands in front of her with visible excitement.

    "Yup," I replied, amused, as I walked back to where we had been earlier. "Just don¡¯t listen to anything a man with a cane says," I added seriously, stopping for a moment.

    "A man with a cane?" Diane asked, puzzled.

    "Doctor House," I explained curtly, continuing on my way.

    "Oh," Diane murmured.

    During one of our many conversations, the subject of who I was studying medicine under had naturally come up. Diane knew House would use anything to mock anyone.

    "So, this is the diagnostics lounge," I said as we entered the office, gesturing to the room. "That¡¯s House¡¯s office¡ªdon¡¯t go in there," I added quickly, pointing to the glass door.

    "Don¡¯t go in there," Diane repeated calmly, nodding.

    "There¡¯s a large collection of books, all on medicine though," I said, pointing to the bookshelf and tilting my head slightly. "That is basically it," I added, clasping my hands together. "Oh, and the board over there¡ªdon¡¯t touch it either. House... doesn¡¯t like people touching his stuff," I declared, trying not to laugh at the childish and lame joke.

    "Understood," Diane said with a nod.

    "I¡¯m not sure how long it¡¯ll take, but I¡¯ll come back to the lounge," I said, looking at Diane as I walked slowly toward the room¡¯s door.

    "Ok," Diane replied, biting her lip slightly and nodding.

    Nodding once more at Diane, who was already browsing through the available books in the room, I left, heading in the general direction House had gone.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I''m not Magnus Carlsen.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 84

    Well, with the end of the final exam season and probably due to all the lack of sleep and poor eating habits, I''m quite sick.

    Fortunately, I have a couple of chapters prepared. I have to admit one thing though: this chapter and the last one were one chapter, but I split them into two. That''s why they are ''shorter'' 3k each.

    ---

    It didn''t take me long to discover where House and the rest of the team were¡ªin one of the private rooms, around the patient lying in bed and next to a visibly upset strange woman.

    House, at the head of the patient''s bed, was ventilating with a resuscitation bag, completely serious.

    Of course, he had ignored the DNR; it didn''t surprise me at all.

    At that moment, from the other side of the hallway, a group of nurses and technicians were pushing one of the hospital''s mechanical ventilators.

    "Ah, finally, and look who''s here. I thought the aliens had abducted you," House declared upon seeing the nurses and technicians enter with the machine, adding the rest when he saw me behind them.

    "They actually did," I sarcastically murmured as I entered the room.

    "I''m sorry, who''s this?" the strange woman, who was visibly furious, asked.

    "PJ Duncan," I said, smiling uncomfortably, introducing myself. On second thought, I didn''t want to be there at that moment.

    "Now that we all know each other, the IVIG made him worse, why?" House asked.

    "Unbelievable," the furious blonde woman murmured, leaving the room with her phone in hand.

    "Means multifocal motor neuropathy was a bad diagnosis," I replied, glancing at the woman walking out of everyone''s sight.

    "Doctor House," raising his voice momentarily, Dr. Foreman said angrily, "do you think this is a good place to discuss this right now?" he asked with forced calmness in his tone.

    "Well, I don''t think he cares right now," House sarcastically responded, pointing to the unconscious patient in the bed, "but if it makes you feel better, we can step out," he added mockingly, shrugging.

    "I would like that, yes," Dr. Foreman immediately said, walking out of the room. House and I followed him, while Chase and Cameron stayed behind to supervise the installation of the mechanical ventilator.

    Outside the room, contrary to Dr. Foreman''s recommendation, we simply stood in silence, waiting for the machine to be installed.

    Dr. Foreman, who was a few steps away from us, was pacing back and forth, looking like he was about to explode, obviously furious. House, meanwhile, seemed simply lost in his thoughts.

    "So¡­ what''s the legal defense?" I asked House in a murmur, uncomfortable with the silence, "the patient''s capacity to make the decision?"

    I had seen the numbers in the studies, and the patient''s thyroid levels were slightly low, but not enough to be a real legal concern.

    "Yup," House said easily, nodding.

    "That''s only going to work for so long," tilting my head slightly, I muttered, not entirely sure of my own words.

    "Let''s hope it''s enough time to figure out what''s wrong with him," House responded seriously, looking at the patient''s room, completely calm about having assaulted a patient with a DNR.

    The nurses and technicians who handled the ventilator installation left the room once their work was done, while Chase and Cameron stayed behind, checking the levels shown by the machines.

    "Come on, we have work to do," House said, starting to walk toward the lounge once Cameron and Chase finished whatever they were doing in the room. The rest of the doctors followed us, including the still visibly furious Dr. Foreman.

    "He''s stable on the ventilator, oxygenating well," Chase said as we entered the diagnostic lounge.

    Diane was sitting in one of the corners of the room, directly next to the entrance door, reading a book quietly.

    House, walking in front of everyone, turned on his heels to face us. I could see his eyes briefly glance at where Diane was sitting silently, but without commenting, he ended his gaze on me with some suspicion. "What''s really wrong with him?" House asked, as if there was nothing unusual in the lounge.

    "What''s wrong with you?" Dr. Foreman, finally exploding in the ''privacy'' of the diagnostic lounge, asked, raising his voice, obviously angry.

    "Everyone knows what''s wrong with me," House declared, tilting his head with a mocking smile on his face, "what''s wrong with him is more interesting."

    "You tubed him, and he didn''t want to be tubed," Dr. Foreman immediately responded, clenching his jaw, "he has a legal paper saying just that."

    "To intubate or not to intubate," House declared theatrically, "that is the big ethical question," he added a moment later, raising one of his eyebrows, "actually, I was hoping we could avoid it and maybe just practice some medicine."

    "There is no question, it''s the patient''s decision," Foreman said, frustrated.

    "If the patient is competent to make it," House declared tentatively, shrugging, "if his thyroid numbers aren''t making him sad."

    "Oh, my God," Dr. Foreman said, exasperated, "you don''t believe that."

    "His thyroid levels were a little¡ª" Cameron was trying to say, but Dr. Foreman immediately interrupted her.

    "It''s nothing, and do not defend him!" the angry doctor warned her.

    "Why did he sign that DNR?" House asked, staring at Dr. Foreman.

    "I-I didn''t talk him into¡ª" Dr. Foreman, taken by surprise by House''s sudden question, was trying to say.

    "No," House interrupted forcefully, "he signed the DNR because he didn''t want a slow, painful death from ALS," House continued seriously.

    I hadn''t met the patient, but if the extensive history of clinical tests was any proof, John Henry Giles surely wanted to keep fighting to get his life back. If there was real hope in his case, he probably wouldn''t have signed a DNR.

    "What was happening had nothing to do with his ALS," House continued, proving his point.

    "Exactly! It''s the IVIG, you screwed up!" Dr. Foreman pointing furiously at House, exclaimed, "you''re not gonna let him die because you screwed up," the angry doctor continued.

    "Technically, your case, so you screwed up," Quietly with a small, evil smile, House said, pointing back at Foreman. "Is that what this is about, looking bad in front of your old boss?" House asked, squinting at Dr. Foreman.

    "You assaulted that man," Dr. Foreman replied, shaking his head at House''s words.

    "Fine," House declared, raising his hands in surrender. "I''ll never do it again," putting one hand on his chest and the other in the air, House promised with false seriousness.

    Yes, he will.

    "Yes, you will," Dr. Foreman reproached, frustrated, as he walked out of the diagnostic lounge.

    "Then all the more reason this debate is pointless," House said sarcastically, shrugging, before Dr. Foreman could fully leave the room.

    Once Dr. Foreman stormed out of the room, an uncomfortable silence took over.

    "Before we discuss why his lungs are worse," House said slowly, unaffected by Dr. Foreman''s exit, "does anyone want to explain who she is?" House asked rhetorically, looking directly at me while pointing to the corner of the room.

    Both Cameron and Chase, who hadn''t noticed there was someone in the room, turned around, surprised to find Diane sitting with her back perfectly straight in the chair.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to be a distraction," Diane, who had been silent throughout the doctors'' discussion, said apologetically, standing up from the small armchair she occupied with the formality that appeared when facing new people.

    "Oh, don''t worry," House declared with false kindness, waving his hand dismissively. "I love when people can see doctors having a mental breakdown; it always gives a feeling of relief and confidence in the guild," he added ironically.

    "Yeah¡­ Diane, these are Doctors Chase, Cameron, and House," I said, smiling apologetically at my friend and pointing to each doctor.

    "Oh, so this is Diane?" Cameron asked, smiling significantly at me. "I''ve heard so much about you," she said, approaching Diane with a smile.

    "Oh, really?" Diane asked, frankly surprised. "Perhaps you have read some of my papers," she added, still maintaining a strange formality.

    "What?" Cameron murmured, taken aback.

    "Yes, last year I published an article on a Functional Decomposition Method for the Efficient Resolution of Nonlinear Differential Equations," Diane said proudly, completely unaware of the reason for Cameron''s question.

    "I meant PJ, PJ has talked a lot about you," Cameron explained, smiling slightly as she reached Diane.

    "Oh, yeah, that makes more sense," Diane murmured, lowering her head in embarrassment, loud enough for everyone to hear.

    "From a cheerleader to someone with savant syndrome, and they say I''m a radical," House declared, smiling broadly and joking, causing Chase to snort and playfully elbow me.

    "Cheerleader?" Diane asked, puzzled by House''s mockery. They had called her a savant, but was that what mattered to her?

    "Nothing," I quickly said, feeling the need to avoid talking about Regina. "Diane has a master''s degree in mathematics from MIT," I added, changing the subject, causing Chase and Cameron to look at the girl in surprise. House, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow at me, obviously noticing my strange reluctance to talk about Regina.

    "What''s the factorial of fifteen?" House asked, slowly shifting his fixed gaze from me to Diane, interrupting any question Cameron might have asked Diane.

    "What, House¡ª" I said, incredulous at the man''s behavior. Diane was very intelligent, but she wasn''t a calculator.

    "Eighty-seven billion, one hundred seventy-eight million, two hundred ninety-one thousand, two hundred," Diane calmly responded after a couple of seconds, interrupting my words and thought process without skipping a beat.

    "The square root of that?" House asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Two hundred ninety-five thousand, two hundred fifty-nine point seven zero twelve, and change," Diane responded again, probably after a couple of seconds, visibly surprising Chase, Cameron, and me even more.

    "Divided by seven," House said seriously, crossing his arms and now strangely ordering.

    "Forty-two thousand, one hundred seventy-nine point ninety-five, and change," Diane responded completely calmly, with a trace of a tiny smile on her face.

    I knew Diane was a genius, but it had never occurred to me to ask her for calculations in that way and that she could do it so easily.

    "Okay, that''s enough," I said, overcoming my surprise and looking angrily at House.

    "Fine, I don''t have a way to verify if what she said is correct anyway," House responded, shrugging disinterestedly.

    "Oh, you can. I remember each of the operations; I can repeat them while you enter them into a calculator," Diane said, making her tiny smile a bit more visible, with a hint of smugness directed at House. Maybe I shouldn''t have said everything I had about the man.

    "That''s really impressive," Cameron declared excitedly, smiling at Diane. "Can you do that?" she asked me a moment later. "I mean, you''re also some kind of genius, right?"

    "No, I can''t," I quickly responded, feeling somewhat attacked.

    "Yeah, PJ only knows a lot about medicine," Diane said, looking directly at me with a now visible, surprisingly slightly malicious smile. "In a trivia contest, he wouldn''t be much help."

    Surprised by Diane''s sudden joking attitude, I could only smile with some pride at her more relaxed behavior.

    "That''s really cute," House declared, smiling falsely. "Now, the dying person?" he asked seriously a moment later, losing his smile. "His lungs are worse, any theories?" he asked again, bringing the conversation back to the case.

    Both Cameron and I smiled apologetically at Diane, giving our attention to the chief doctor in the room.

    "Vasculitis?" Chase asked, not entirely sure.

    "I like it," I said, nodding. "The patient''s MRIs are old and have a bit of static; they certainly didn''t show anything, but there could always be errors or developments. IVIG in many cases could exacerbate vasculitis, inducing a much worse inflammatory response," I quickly added.

    "Dr. House?" Before anyone else could say anything, a rather attractive woman carrying an envelope asked from the entrance of the lounge, entering the room.

    She wore high heels that accentuated her legs, a visibly tight skirt a little above mid-thigh, and a shirt under an equally tight jacket, with far more buttons open than she should have had. It was obvious she intended to attract attention.

    "Cuddy sent me a stripper again?" House asked fake excitedly as the woman walked toward him. "Love that woman, so thoughtful," he declared, placing a hand over his chest, feigning emotion.

    "Sorry," the woman said without introducing herself, handing the envelope to House and walking out of the room.

    House, completely unabashed, watched the woman''s backside as she walked away from the lounge and calmly handed the envelope to Cameron.

    "Wouldn''t likely hit both lungs," House said, tilting his head, probably trying to catch the last glimpse of the woman. "You should know that," he added, raising an eyebrow at me once the woman was out of sight.

    "I know that, but unlikely cases are what you usually work with, right?" I quickly responded, causing House to tilt his head slightly. "I feel we should at least update the last MRI; the newest one we have is over six months old," I said, raising my hands slightly.

    "It could be Wegener''s granulomatosis," Cameron said as she opened the envelope.

    "There are case reports of Wegener''s hitting both the lungs and the spine," I said, nodding, remembering reading those cases in the hospital library.

    "It''s not great, but it''s better than ALS," House said slowly. "At least it''s treatable."

    "It''s a restraining order," Cameron declared worriedly after reading the letter inside the envelope. "You''re not to come within 50 feet of John Henry Giles, and they''ve asked the D.A. to file criminal charges for battery."

    "Cameron, test the blood for C-ANCA," House ordered, completely unperturbed by the news.

    "These are criminal charges; they''re not going to let you take blood to make more tests," Cameron said seriously, showing the letter in her hand.

    "He has blood left in the lab, just add on the C-ANCA," House said, shrugging, still not giving importance to the complicated situation. "Foreman still got you doing bronchoscopic suctioning for the pneumonia?" he asked Chase calmly.

    "Every four hours," Chase responded quickly.

    "Well, while you''re down in his lungs, grab a biopsy," House ordered maliciously. "We''ll need it to confirm Wegener''s." Walking toward his office, he stopped abruptly. "Also, try to get an MRI for the kid," House ordered, pointing at me.

    "Do you really think it''s necessary?" Chase asked me seriously, not doubting my knowledge but rather a genuine question between colleagues.

    "Yeah," I responded seriously, thinking about the strangeness of the reaction to IVIG.

    "You just have to hide from Foreman; after all, the patient can''t refuse," House declared sarcastically. "And speaking of that, one more thing: move the patient to the second-floor ICU," House said, stopping under the doorframe of his office.

    "Why?" Cameron asked, puzzled.

    "It''s above the clinic," I responded, snorting and shaking my head, causing House to smile and nod.

    "I''m pretty sure it''s fifty feet in any direction," House said, smiling maliciously.

    Of course, he would use a court order to his advantage somehow.

    After receiving their orders, the other doctors left the lounge to complete their tasks, not without first smiling at Diane, who simply nodded awkwardly, bidding the doctors farewell.

    Silently asking Diane to wait for me outside House''s private office, I walked behind the doctor into his office.

    "So, aren''t you supposed to meet with the hospital lawyer?" I asked, following House into his office.

    "How much do you know about these kinds of things, summons and trials?" House asked, sitting calmly in his chair.

    "Not much, but I know the thyroid levels aren''t going to work as a reason to ignore the DNR," I said seriously, taking a seat in front of House.

    "Well, that''s reason enough to find out what''s wrong with him," House said, reclining in his chair, completely relaxed. "Now let''s talk about you. How does it feel to chase someone who makes your intelligence look like that of a two-year-old?" House asked sarcastically, joining his hands in front of his face.

    "We''re just friends," I said exasperatedly, rolling my eyes. "And ''chase''? As if you know what that is," I retorted sarcastically, nodding at his cane.

    "Oh yeah, make fun of the crippled," House said, snorting and shaking his head, feigning offense.

    A moment after House spoke, his pager went off. "How long do you think a moderately decent team of doctors can move a comatose patient to the second-floor ICU?" House asked, squinting after checking his pager.

    "Five minutes?" I replied, shrugging, not entirely sure.

    "Let''s round it to ten," House said, nodding slowly and checking his watch. "I suddenly have to go to the bathroom," he added, standing up slowly and smiling.

    "Good luck," I murmured ironically, raising my eyebrows and walking behind House out of his office.

    "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ramanujan," House said, smiling sarcastically at Diane before leaving the diagnostic lounge.

    "I''m a woman, American, and obviously didn''t die on April 26, 1920," Diane quickly said, frowning and stopping House. "From what PJ said, I thought you had some special deductive ability and a great memory. PJ said my name several minutes ago."

    "Aw, you think I have a ''special deductive ability''?" House asked me, placing a hand over his chest, feigning tenderness, completely ignoring Diane''s response.

    "I think many things about you, House. Your work as a diagnostician is possibly the only good thing," I said, smiling seriously.

    "Oh, the sting," House exclaimed with exaggerated pain on his face. "Look what you did, Ramanujan. When I mocked the cheerleader, he wasn''t this defensive," House added, raising his eyebrows suggestively and continuing his way out of the room.

    "I''m not Ramanujan, like I said. He was Indian and died in 1920," Diane said, slightly exasperated, raising her voice as House disappeared down the hallway, completely ignoring her.

    Seeing me incredulously, Diane raised one of her hands slightly, silently asking what House''s problem was.

    "Diane, do you remember what I told you about House?" I asked, unable to avoid smiling slightly.

    "Oh yeah," Diane murmured, raising her head a little embarrassed, probably for forgetting what I had said. "So this is ''any reason to mock anyone''?" she asked, nodding slowly.

    "That was it," I murmured, nodding slowly.

    "I get it¡­ I think," Diane murmured, squinting, possibly absorbing the information.

    "That''s why I said, don''t listen to anything he says," I reminded her, pressing my lips together. "Now, would you like to see where many of the medical techniques are practiced in the hospital?" I asked, clapping and changing the subject.

    "Yes," Diane responded, interested, nodding. "Can I ask one more question?" she asked, walking beside me out of the diagnostic lounge.

    "Of course, as many as you want," I replied, puzzled.

    "Who is ''the cheerleader''?" Diane asked, obviously forcing a neutral expression while glancing at me sideways.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I''m not Magnus Carlsen.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 85

    "Well, I''m a football player," I quickly said again, feeling strangely uncomfortable. "So being associated with cheerleaders is pretty normal."

    I could tell that my evasive response obviously didn¡¯t fully satisfy Diane, but for some reason, I felt quite reluctant to talk about Regina, it just didn¡¯t feel right... This is dumb.

    "Actually, ''the cheerleader,'' as House calls her, is Regina George" I quickly said ignoring my uncomfortable feeling about the topic. "She and I were in a relationship for a couple of weeks," with how nervous I felt I added it almost immediately.

    It wasn¡¯t like it was a secret or anything, so my own reluctance to talk about it annoyed me.

    "Oh," Diane murmured, now keeping her gaze forward as she walked beside me. "Were you ''going out'' with her?" she asked a moment later, her voice losing volume as the question went on.

    "Oh... yeah," I answered, letting out a faintly amused sigh.

    After my words, neither of us said anything for several seconds, the silence growing awkward. "Why did it end?" Diane suddenly asked, breaking the quiet midway to our destination.

    "What?" I asked, caught off guard by the sudden question, even though I knew exactly what she was referring to.

    "Your relationship, why did it end?" Diane asked with genuine interest.

    "It was because of a misunderstanding," I replied, doubting my own response. Regina''s behavior that day was obviously a performance, but it didn¡¯t seem important enough to figure out why.

    "A misunderstanding?" Diane asked, surprised. "Is it normal to end a relationship over a misunderstanding?" she inquired formally, narrowing her eyes as if analyzing the thought.

    "Maybe?" I replied, scratching my head, unsure of my answer. "I think as long as there¡¯s good communication, a misunderstanding wouldn¡¯t be enough to break a relationship," thinking about the successful relationships I knew I continued, feeling slightly more confident.

    "Didn¡¯t you have good communication with Regina George?" Diane asked, now looking at me with interest.

    "Well, not really," I answered, recalling all those days in the cafeteria, shrugging my shoulders.

    Nodding slowly, Diane went quiet for a moment. From the way her eyes narrowed, she was clearly lost in thought. "And what about you and me? Do you think we have good communication?" she finally asked.

    "Yeah, definitely," I answered seriously, nodding calmly.

    "Are you sure?" Diane asked, slightly worried, tilting her head. "I did some calculations, and based on the number of words I speak in each of our average conversations, I dominate about sixty to seventy percent of the talking time, approximately," Diane said quickly, frowning.

    "It¡¯s that number, right?" I asked amusedly, not doubting Diane''s capabilities but still surprised by the sudden percentage.

    Hearing my question, Diane paused for a moment, tilting her head, probably recalculating. "Yeah, sixty-two percent and rising, approximately," she responded confidently a second later.

    "Do you remember all our conversations?" I asked, amused.

    "Every word. Don¡¯t you?" Diane asked, widening her eyes slightly with concern.

    "Is that a joke?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Yeah," Diane said, pressing her lips together as if trying not to smile.

    "Really funny," I declared, genuinely amused. "I remember everything we talk about, but not word for word," I assured Diane with a calm smile.

    "Yes, I know," Diane murmured, nodding with a visible smile. "But the percentage still proves we don¡¯t have ''good communication,''" Diane added, looking worried again.

    "Diane," I said, stopping abruptly a few steps away from the skills lab and gently taking her hand. "I should¡¯ve been much clearer. I don¡¯t think the important thing for good communication between two people is the comparative percentage of spoken words," I assured her with a faint smile. "I think what really matters is the content of the time shared."

    "But¡ª" Diane began nervously.

    "But," I quickly interrupted her, "if the percentage is so important to you," I added, fairly certain it was, "then I¡¯ll just have to talk a lot more than I normally do," I said with a smile.

    "So, your plan is to try to equal the amount of words per conversation?" Diane asked, smiling slightly and biting her lip.

    "That¡¯s absolutely correct," I replied, relieved that Diane seemed more at ease. "For example, this is the skills lab, where we, the scientists working to heal others¡ªalso known as physicians or doctors¡ªpractice patching people up and applying stitches, among other things," I said quickly, pointing to the lab door. "Follow me, please," I added as I walked into the room.

    "Do you know how to perform the inverted continuous suture?" Diane suddenly asked, interested, as we walked toward the door.

    "Inverted continuous suture?" I asked, surprised and amused. "Where did you hear that?"

    "One of the books I read in the diagnostic lounge mentioned it," Diane explained easily.

    One of the books? She hadn¡¯t been alone there for long¡ªhow many books had she read?

    "But that¡¯s not important," Diane quickly said, shaking her head. "I¡¯m asking questions to give you the chance to talk more," she murmured excitedly, leaning slightly toward me, as if sharing a secret.

    I was pretty sure that¡¯s how a conversation works.

    Smiling at Diane, I said, "Excellent question!" Pretending to be some sort of tour guide, I exclaimed excitedly, letting go of Diane¡¯s cold hand. "The inverted continuous suture is an advanced technique primarily used in gastrointestinal surgery," I explained. "Specifically to close cavities in organs like the intestine or stomach," I continued, opening the lab door and allowing Diane to enter first. "And yes, I know how to perform it in its two variations: the Connell suture and the Cushing suture," I added, stopping next to Diane after entering the skills lab. Feeling strangely proud, I asked with a smile, imitating her tone, "How am I doing?"

    Still biting her lip to avoid smiling widely, Diane gave me a thumbs-up, clearly enjoying the game.

    "Excellent," I said, clapping my hands playfully. "Now, if we walk this way, the lab has all sorts of synthetic tissue: silicone, polyurethane, elastomers, gels, and even, by special request, pigskin," I said quickly, showing her each material¡ªexcept the last one. "If you still have time miss, I can demonstrate both variations of the inverted continuous suture," I continued, opening my arms and gathering the necessary materials.

    "Yes, I¡¯m reasonably convinced that I still have enough time, and I find it particularly interesting to observe the suture in person," Diane said, biting her lip to hide her smile and clearly trying to keep up the game. "I really enjoy this social intercourse. It¡¯s funny," Diane murmured with a visible smile, leaning close to me again as if sharing a secret.

    "Yeah, it is," I murmured back, amused, leaning closer as well.

    Without realizing it, talking with Diane about whatever came to her mind, I completely lost track of time¡ªand possibly some of my voice.

    At some point, the skills lab door opened, surprising both Diane and me, who were sitting quite close to each other.

    "I knew you were here. House is back from court," Chase said, grinning widely as he looked at us.

    "Court?" I asked incredulously, standing up.

    "Yeah, Dr. Hamilton was on his way here to disconnect the patient, so the hospital lawyers managed to get an emergency hearing with a judge to stop it," Chase explained.

    "Okay," I murmured, surprised that house managed to avoid compiance with a DNR. "So, now what?" I asked, walking behind Chase¡ªnot without giving Diane a silent gesture to follow us.

    "We didn¡¯t get the chance to obtain the MRI, so it¡¯s quite possible House is starting the patient on Cytoxan," Chase replied, shrugging.

    "Based on what?" I asked, confused. "Did you find something with the biopsy?"

    "Yeah, inflammation," Chase replied, nodding. "It¡¯s a leap of faith by House. We couldn¡¯t risk our careers like that."

    "Yeah, and he already has to defend himself in court for ignoring the DNR," I added sarcastically, shrugging.

    "That was his reasoning too," Chase replied, nodding as he pressed his lips together.

    "All right, thanks for letting me know, Chase," I said, nodding to him.

    "Oh, don¡¯t mention it. I¡¯ll leave you two alone¡ªagain," Chase declared, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he walked away from the room.

    "I¡¯m going to talk to House," I said to Diane, checking my watch and noticing that there was still plenty of time before we had to leave. "Sorry," I added with a smile, as I was interrupting our pleasant conversation.

    "It¡¯s okay. You have responsibilities," Diane said with a faint smile, looking directly into my eyes. "Besides, I like being here."

    "Yeah, me too," I replied, not really knowing what to say as I looked into Diane¡¯s eyes. "I mean, I like being here too," I added with exaggeratedly raised eyebrows, joking and making Diane chuckle softly, "hey, don¡¯t laugh at me," I said, feigning offense as I walked alongside Diane out of the room, making her laugh a little more freely as she hid her smile behind her hand.

    Not long after, we arrived at the diagnostic lounge, where Diane once again took a seat in the corner of the room, picking up another book while I approached House¡¯s office.

    Inside House¡¯s office, he was accompanied by another man, whose badge on his lapel clearly indicated he was a doctor from another hospital¡ªpossibly Dr. Hamilton.

    "Oh hi," Dr. Hamilton said, raising his hand in surprise upon seeing me. "I¡¯m Dr. Hamilton," he added, introducing himself.

    "Nice to meet you, I¡¯m¡ª" I was saying, but House interrupted me.

    "This is Mark Buffalo, the janitor," House quickly said. "Mark, remember you¡¯re only supposed to come for the trash during your scheduled hours," House added, tilting his head and speaking slowly, as if trying to make sure I remember every word.

    "I''m sorry, Doctor, it seems I forgot again," I said, patting my head lightly and feigning embarrassment.

    "Oh, don¡¯t worry, Marky Mark," House said with a smile, waving one hand dismissively. "Now, Marty, you were saying you were going to kill John Henry?" House asked maliciously, turning his attention back to the other doctor, Dr. Hamilton, startled by House¡¯s words, looked at me with concern.

    "No, no, John Henry is going to die by his own choice. I mean, I¡¯m going to disconnect him from his ventilator because he¡¯s very ill," Dr. Hamilton quickly began to explain, glancing nervously at me. "It¡¯s a standard procedure for someone who¡¯s signed a DNR," he added hastily, prompting House to smile even more.

    "Dr. Hamilton, hey," Dr. Foreman said, greeting the man from the doorway of the office and stopping his awkward explanation. "How you doin¡¯?" he asked as he walked over to the other doctor.

    "Ah, Eric," Dr. Hamilton said, clearly relieved by the interruption. "Hey, how you doin¡¯?" he asked in return, shaking Foreman¡¯s hand.

    "I¡¯m sorry" looking embarrassed Dr. Foreman said, "I should have never put your patient on IVIG," he slowly added.

    "It¡¯s not your fault, Eric," Dr. Hamilton said with a kind smile, trying to reassure him.

    "No, it¡¯s mine Eric," House chimed in sarcastically. Like me, he had been entirely ignored during the other two doctors¡¯ conversation.

    "That¡¯s not what I said," Dr. Hamilton quickly denied.

    "I sort of understood that," I said, exaggerating innocence to avoid smiling.

    "Thanks, Mark," House said, grinning broadly and pointing at me.

    "Mark?" Dr. Foreman murmured, confused.

    "Everybody asks about you out in L.A.," Dr. Hamilton said with surprising ease, managing to move past the awkward moment with a smile directed at Foreman.

    "How¡¯s the old place doing?" Foreman asked, apparently ignoring the playful banter between House and me, though he briefly gave me an odd look.

    "Oh, this is wonderful," House rudely interrupted any response Dr. Hamilton was about to give. "But before you guys break out the oil, I should point out that you can¡¯t pull the plug," House quickly added. "I have a court order."

    "You used to, but¡ª" Dr. Hamilton started to say, but House interrupted him.

    "I have the right to face my accuser," House declared, pretending to be excited. "Judge said so," he added, tilting his head as if he were a small child.

    "Not if no one¡¯s accusing you," Dr. Hamilton calmly said, wiping the grin off House¡¯s face. "All the charges have been dropped," he added slowly, with what looked like pity on his face.

    "He doesn¡¯t have to die," House finally said after a moment of silence, for the first time showing a hint of genuine emotion.

    "It¡¯s not Wegener¡¯s," Dr. Foreman said, just as surprised as I was, calmly assuring House.

    If it really wasn¡¯t Wegener¡¯s, then his lungs might be able to handle being taken off the ventilator.

    A moment later, Dr. Hamilton said his goodbyes, awkwardly including me as he left the office with Dr. Foreman.

    "Now what?" I asked House as I sat down in one of the free chairs in front of his desk.

    "Now we do nothing," House said slowly, letting out a brief sigh.

    "Hey, PJ," Dr. Wilson suddenly appearing at the office door with a kind smile said. "I heard they¡¯re going to do it¡ªdisconnect your patient," he added, focusing on House.

    "Have you been eavesdropping?" House asked sarcastically, smiling.

    "No, Cuddy said your charges were dropped," Wilson explained calmly, shaking his head.

    "Oh, the lengths some people go to for a peaceful death," House remarked, shaking his head lightly in mock disbelief.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "Yeah, who¡¯d have thought?" Dr. Wilson asked ironically.

    "Well, let¡¯s go see someone who doesn¡¯t have to, you know, die," House said sarcastically as he walked out of his office. "Coming, kid?" he asked. "It might be an enlightening experience."

    "Sure," I said, nodding slowly. I was familiar with the process of disconnecting someone from life support through books, but I¡¯d never witnessed it before.

    "Uh, Diane, I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes," I said with a smile as I left House¡¯s office with the two doctors.

    "Oh, yeah, don¡¯t worry about it," Diane replied calmly with a smile.

    "Oh my God, I didn¡¯t see you there," Dr. Wilson said, startled and apologetic upon noticing Diane.

    "Oh, yeah, Ramanujan has this ability to stand incredibly still in one spot until she¡¯s practically invisible," House said sarcastically. "She¡¯s also like a human calculator¡ªfun stuff; I can show you later," he quickly added as he walked out of the office.

    "Ramanujan?" Dr. Wilson asked Diane, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

    "My name is Diane Adler," Diane said, rolling her eyes with a hint of exasperation¡ªsomething I hadn¡¯t seen from her before, quickly introducing herself.

    "Oh, I¡¯m Dr. James Wilson," Dr. Wilson said, still puzzled by Diane¡¯s presence, introducing himself hastily.

    "Wilson, kid," House shouted from outside the lounge, urging us to follow him.

    "Oh, sorry. It was nice to meet you," Wilson said to Diane with a smile.

    "Likewise," Diane replied formally, nodding.

    "See you in a minute," I said to Diane with a smile, walking out of the lounge with Dr. Wilson.

    "So, is she your...?" Dr. Wilson asked as we walked behind House, leaning closer to me with a raised eyebrow.

    "Friend, yes," I quickly answered to the unfinished question.

    "Sure," Wilson murmured with a broad smile. "So, who¡¯s Ramanujan?" he asked curiously a moment later.

    "I think he was an Indian mathematician who died in 1920," I replied, not entirely sure.

    "Of course," Dr. Wilson muttered, running a hand along his forhead.

    "If it¡¯s Wegener¡¯s, his lungs won¡¯t be able to handle it," House said a few minutes later as we stood outside the patient¡¯s room, watching the man surrounded by a priest, the woman who had been in his room while he was in a coma, and Drs. Foreman and Hamilton. "As soon as they pull that plug, he¡¯ll die," House added grimly.

    "That¡¯s why they call it ''pulling the plug,''" Dr. Wilson said sarcastically, causing both House and me to look at him, surprised by his cold words.

    Meanwhile, inside the room, the priest finished speaking to the patient, stepping aside to let the woman say her goodbyes. She nodded at Dr. Hamilton, signaling him to proceed with his duty.

    Slowly, Dr. Hamilton removed the ventilator tube from the patient¡¯s throat and stepped back, leaving everyone to wait for the inevitable.

    Immediately after the ventilator tube was removed, it felt as though time slowed down deliberately¡ªone second passed, then the next one, and then another. Surprisingly, the patient seemed to be breathing.

    "It¡¯s not Wegener¡¯s," I murmured, watching the patient breathe on his own. Both Dr. Wilson and House turned to look at me.

    "He¡¯s breathing on his own," Dr. Wilson said, nodding in surprise.

    "Wrong again," House murmured slowly, walking away from the room.

    "I should follow him," I said nervously, watching House walk away.

    "Oh, he¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just this thing he has about solving cases, you know?" Dr. Wilson said, smiling at me reassuringly.

    "Oh, no, it¡¯s just that he¡¯s heading to the diagnostic lounge," I quickly explained.

    "Oh, yeah, your ''friend'' is still there," Dr. Wilson said, nodding knowingly.

    "Yeah, my friend Diane is still there," I replied, choosing to ignore the double meaning in Wilson¡¯s words. A moment later, I nodded in farewell and walked after House, who wasn¡¯t moving particularly fast.

    When I arrived behind House at the diagnostic lounge, I saw Diane, who had previously been sitting in one corner of the room, now seated next to Cameron at the main table. Cameron, who was leaning in close to Diane, clearly discussing something ''secret'', immediately straightened up in her chair when she saw me enter.

    "That doesn¡¯t look suspicious at all," I said jokingly, amused by Cameron¡¯s attempt to mask any emotion on her face.

    "Oh, we were just talking about what you and I have been doing this week," Diane explained calmly with a smile, seemingly unaware of why the situation might appear suspicious.

    "Diane!" Cameron exclaimed incredulously, as if Diane had broken some pact of silence.

    "What?" Diane asked, confused, looking at Cameron.

    "PJ isn''t supposed to know," Cameron quickly explained to Diane in a murmur.

    "Oh, I didn''t know that," Diane said, surprised. "Sorry," she added, slightly embarrassed.

    "Don''t worry, we¡¯ve got plenty of time to talk more, and I¡¯ll make sure to tell you when and when not PJ is supposed to find out," Cameron murmured amusedly, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

    "Oh, this is really cute¡ª" House declared mockingly, only to be interrupted before he could continue.

    "He''s stable, but one of his arms is now paralyzed," Dr. Wilson said as he entered the lounge, followed by Dr. Foreman, cutting off any continuation of House''s joke.

    "The real question is, why is he still alive?" House asked, nodding at Wilson''s words and understanding the seriousness of the matter.

    "Do you think he''s just being stubborn?" Dr. Wilson asked sarcastically as he walked over to the bar table in the room to make himself a coffee.

    "He''s alive because you were wrong," Dr. Foreman responded sharply, following Wilson to also make a coffee. "It''s not Wegener¡¯s."

    "Yeah, I seem to be doing that a lot lately," House declared with fake disappointment. "I''m so sorry, people keep living because of my mistakes," he added, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated humility, causing Dr. Foreman to shake his head in exasperation.

    "The progression of the paralysis pretty much confirmed Hamilton was right," Cameron said slowly, looking at House with disappointment. "It¡¯s A.L.S."

    "Assuming this is a progression of his paralysis," House replied casually, shrugging.

    "He can¡¯t move his arm," Chase said, frowning with obviousness.

    "Yes, his arm is paralyzed, and yes, his legs are paralyzed," House replied, nodding slowly with each affirmation. "Why is everyone so gung-ho to connect those two conditions?" A moment later, House asked, feigning frustration as he raised his hands dramatically.

    "His arm paralysis could be the result of a stroke when he was intubated," I offered, trying to add to House¡¯s theory, causing Dr. Foreman to slowly shake his head in disappointment.

    "Thanks," House said triumphantly, pointing at me with a smile. "You can think we''re wrong, but that¡¯s no reason to stop thinking," he said pointing to both me and himself, addressing Dr. Foreman.

    "How about this one?" Foreman asked confidently. "He''s not our patient," he added decisively.

    "Nope, not good enough," House replied smugly after pretending to think for a moment with his hand on his chin.

    "I like the stroke theory," Cameron murmured, shrugging. "Blood clots are common in paralyzed patients," Cameron quickly explained seeing the betrayed look Dr. Foreman gave her, "The inactivity causes¡ª"

    "Not interested in why," House interrupted Cameron abruptly. "Let¡¯s get an M.R. angiogram, check for an embolic stroke."

    "He doesn¡¯t want you treating him," Dr. Foreman said frustratedly, stopping House from saying anything further.

    "They dropped the court order," House defended himself quickly, shrugging.

    "Yeah, and they dropped the charges against Ted Kennedy," Dr. Wilson said jokingly. "Doesn¡¯t mean he should call the family and see if they¡¯re free to get a sundae," he added, causing everyone in the room to look at him strangely, not understanding his joke.

    "Good point," House declared sarcastically. "But I can go within 50 feet of him now," he added, raising his free hand to his side as he walked out of the room.

    "And that is our cue to go," I said, smiling at Diane as I checked my watch, prompting the rest of the doctors in the room to check their own watches.

    House was right when he talked about my punctuality. If there were anything urgent left to do in the case, I obviously wouldn¡¯t leave. If I was correct and the patient had a clot, the operation to remove it wouldn¡¯t happen until the next day, likely in the morning. Otherwise¡ª

    "What, now?" Diane asked, surprised as she glanced at the wall clock in the room. "But you haven¡¯t finished the case," she added, strangely nervous.

    "Oh, it¡¯s over," Dr. Foreman joked, sipping his coffee. A second later, still holding the cup to his lips, he frowned. "I¡¯m sorry, who are you?" he asked, seemingly noticing Diane¡¯s presence for the first time.

    "Diane Adler," Diane said, standing and smiling faintly at Cameron in farewell as she introduced herself.

    "All right," Dr. Foreman muttered, still confused but dismissing the situation as unimportant.

    "See you tomorrow?" Chase asked.

    "Yeah, maybe early in the morning. Depends on what House finds," I replied easily, nodding.

    Upon hearing my words, Dr. Foreman muttered to himself, shaking his head and exhaling in obvious frustration.

    "Well, enjoy it while you don¡¯t have a contract," Dr. Wilson said sarcastically, sipping his coffee. "Meanwhile, the rest of us will keep working our shifts," he added with a sigh as I walked out of the lounge.

    "Well, see you tomorrow, PJ," Cameron said, stretching her tired back and smiling faintly. "Diane, it was a real pleasure meeting you," she added, smiling at Diane. "We have to talk again," she said meaningfully, glancing at me as she continued speaking to my friend.

    "Isn¡¯t it hard?" Diane asked as we walked down the hospital corridors toward the exit.

    "What?" I asked, puzzled.

    "Leaving patients and going home," Diane explained, glancing at me sideways.

    "Yes," I said after a long moment, surprised by Diane¡¯s suddenly loaded question. I remembered every patient I had to leave behind at the hospital¡¯s doors over the years. "But eventually, you learn to cope, I think."

    "I don¡¯t think I can simply go home," Diane murmured to herself.

    "At first, I don¡¯t think anyone can," I said, smiling at Diane slowly. "Just leaving your responsibilities at the hospital and going home. But there comes a time when you realize there are other things more important outside the hospital¡ªyour family, friends, loved ones, yourself," I added calmly. "Well, obviously, if there¡¯s an emergency that requires all hands on deck, you won¡¯t leave when your shift ends. But in cases like this, where there¡¯s no imminent emergency, it¡¯s different."

    "I think I understand," Diane said, nodding slowly and pouting slightly.

    "Glad to hear it," I said, amused.

    After saying goodbye to the nurses from afar¡ªwho seemed very interested, chatting and smiling as they glanced at Diane¡ªwe arrived at my car in the hospital¡¯s reception area.

    "Do you want me to take you home?" I asked Diane as I checked my watch, worried because she seemed a bit tired. "I¡¯m still heading to the gym. It¡¯s a noisy place full of guys who smell like sweat," I added with a faint smile, looking Diane in the eye. It would be quite amusing to compare calm Diane to everyone at the gym.

    "I¡¯d like to see your martial arts training if it¡¯s not a problem for you," Diane said slowly, opening her eyes wide and keeping her gaze fixed on mine.

    "You might regret it," I replied jokingly after a couple of seconds of losing myself in Diane¡¯s large eyes and swallowing with some difficulty.

    "Why?" Diane asked, confused.

    "I sweat a lot, and the drive from the gym to the ranch is anything but short," I said, smiling mischievously at Diane.

    "I don¡¯t think you¡¯re capable of smelling bad. Since I¡¯ve known you, you always give off a pleasant scent," Diane declared, frowning and speaking as if stating simple facts. "Even when we went to the public pool."

    "Well, thanks," I said, slightly embarrassed, sure Diane hadn¡¯t realized how bold her words were.

    The drive to the gym was uneventful aside from Diane constantly picking which songs to play.

    "Is this it?" Diane asked, puzzled, as we arrived at the parking lot of the small strip mall where the gym was located.

    The place, sandwiched between a video rental store and a mini supermarket, had no sign advertising the business. Instead, it featured a large window allowing people to see those training inside.

    "Yep, welcome to Case Walker¡¯s dojo," I declared theatrically, opening my arms as we walked toward the gym.

    "PJ, my man!" when I opened the gym door, one of the clients closest to it, a man who had been training with us since the gym opened, said happily when he saw me.

    "Mister Sanderson," I replied with a smile, matching his enthusiasm.

    "Oh," the man said, briefly losing his smile as he looked behind me in surprise.

    "Yeah, Mister Sanderson, this is Diane," I said, stepping aside and knowing exactly why the man was surprised as I introduced my friend.

    "Ma¡¯am," Mr. Sanderson said with a wide smile, bowing his head slightly.

    Apart from the visit from my mom, Mrs. Cooper, or Meemaw on the gym¡¯s opening day, no other woman had set foot inside the place. Outside, however, many women who visited the other stores would stop for a few seconds in front of the wide window to see what was going on inside.

    As Diane greeted with a small wave, I noticed, slightly amused, how she wrinkled her nose, clearly due to the smell of the gym.

    Quickly, just like Mr. Sanderson, everyone else in the gym noticed Diane¡¯s presence beside me, causing the previously noisy room to fall completely silent.

    "Come on people, the bell hasn¡¯t rung yet!" Tim, walking toward us and clapping loudly, broke the silence in the room, prompting everyone to get back to work. "So you must be Diane Adler. I¡¯ve heard so much about you," he said with a broad smile, extending his hand.

    "I suppose you¡¯re referring to things PJ has said and not that you¡¯ve read any of my papers," Diane replied formally, taking his comically large hand compared to hers. "If that¡¯s the case, I¡¯ve also heard a lot about you."

    "Oh really?" Tim asked, smiling at me, apparently choosing to ignore the first part of Diane¡¯s response.

    "Yes, PJ told me you were an impressively large man, making it quite difficult to beat you in a fight, but that he still manages to do so most of the time," Diane stated calmly and shamelessly, likely paraphrasing one of our many conversations, which, as I now knew, she had completely memorized.

    Her words made me choke on my own saliva.

    "Oh, ''most of the time,'' huh?" Tim asked, smiling though his smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes, as he tilted his head slightly at me.

    "Well, that sounds like a direct challenge," Case declared with a cocky smile from nearby, raising one of his eyebrows. "Let¡¯s figure it out in the ring. Go warm up," he ordered, nodding toward the gym while walking closer to Diane. "Case Walker," he introduced himself kindly, extending his hand to my friend.

    "Diane, when they¡¯re done, you can sit in that chair if you want," I said quickly, pointing to the tall chair behind the reception desk, trying not to interrupt Case or Diane.

    "Go warm up," Case ordered me, not so kindly, waving his now-free hand toward me.

    "Yes, sir," I said jokingly, giving the most pathetic imitation of a military salute, only because Case had his back to me, and walked into the gym seriously.

    A little while later, both Tim and Case joined me. Tim was doing his own warm-up, while Case continued with his coaching.

    "''Most of the time,''" Tim murmured with a huff while stretching on the floor, shaking his head.

    "Come on, I didn¡¯t mean it like that," I said nervously, opening my hands, worried my friend might actually be upset.

    Tim simply frowned at me, staring intently for a moment.

    "I know, I¡¯m just messing with you," he finally said after a couple of seconds, losing his frown and smiling broadly. "If I were trying to impress a girl, I¡¯d do the same thing, but unlike you, I actually win most of our sparring matches."

    Surprised by Tim¡¯s slightly arrogant words, I raised one of my eyebrows and remained silent for several seconds. "We¡¯ll see then," I muttered, narrowing my eyes while warming up one of my shoulders by pushing my elbow with my forearm.

    "I guess we will," Tim said with a slow nod, bending down to touch his toes without bending his knees even slightly.

    Now feeling competitive, I focused much more on warming up. For some reason, this sparring session felt far more crucial than any of the many others we¡¯d had over time.

    While warming up, I occasionally glanced at Diane, who sat several steps away in the reception area, seemingly reading the accounting book.

    Not long after, dressed appropriately for what we were about to do¡ªsports shorts and anti-slip shoes¡ªTim and I geared up with our gloves.

    "You need to work on your footwork and takedowns. Keep your guard up at all times," Case said seriously as he checked that my gloves were on properly and helped me fit my mouthguard, having already done the same for Tim.

    In this type of sparring, where we treated it like a real fight, Case would usually give advice to both fighters before starting. Since it would be unfair to receive help between rounds, others would act as the corners for the fighters, simply providing water and wiping sweat.

    As we stepped into the ring, as always happened when Tim and I sparred, the rest of the gym excitedly cheered, standing just a few steps away from the action.

    "You got this, Champ," my corner, Mr. Sanderson, said, clapping me on the back with a friendly but firm pat. "Just do that ground thing you do."

    Like the vast majority of people in the gym, Mr. Sanderson, being a much more traditional Texan man, trained mostly in boxing under Case¡¯s guidance, considering the jiu-jitsu Case taught as nothing more than ''ground things''.

    Grateful for his encouragement, I nodded and offered my fist, which Mr. Sanderson quickly bumped with a big smile.

    "Okay, we¡¯re treating this like a real fight. That means no helmets. You know the rules of my house: no hits to the back of the head, no eye pokes, no low blows, listen to my instructions, and protect yourselves at all times," Case said seriously, holding Tim and me by the shoulders in the center of the ring. "Touch gloves."

    In a small ritual Tim and I always performed before sparring, we exchanged an intricate fist bump and nodded before heading to our corners.

    "Ready?" Case asked, pointing at me. I nodded. "Ready?" he repeated, this time pointing at Tim. "Go," Case ordered, stepping back against the ropes.

    Quickly raising my guard, I walked to the center of the ring with my hand outstretched for a second fist bump.

    Tim was definitely stronger and taller than me, giving him much more reach and power in his punches.

    As we exchanged blows, I mostly tried to redirect or avoid direct hits. However, redirecting Tim¡¯s punches was much easier said than done.

    "Come on, Champ, you¡¯re letting him press you," I miraculously heard Mr. Sanderson¡¯s voice over the cheers and shouts of encouragement. "Start hitting back."

    Although Mr. Sanderson wasn¡¯t Case, and his advice wasn¡¯t always 100% accurate, he was right this time.

    Feigning a low kick to Tim¡¯s leg, I managed to make him instinctively focus on absorbing the hit, giving me an opening to take a solid step and land a punch on the side of his face¡ªmy first clean hit since the fight started.

    While Tim was slightly stunned by the hit, I took the opportunity to move quickly and gain his back.

    "Good!" Mr. Sanderson shouted excitedly from my corner, though he probably didn¡¯t fully understand what was happening.

    Without wasting a second, I used one of Tim¡¯s legs as a kind of ladder to position myself for an arm lock, trying to swing my leg over his shoulder and across his chest. Unfortunately, Tim, knowing what I was attempting, managed to free his arm and used his weight to take us down.

    Knowing that I couldn¡¯t do much with Tim on top of me, I used forearm and elbow strikes to fend him off, shielding myself from his blows. Taking advantage of the fact that Tim wasn¡¯t focused on a ground submission, I quickly wriggled out, pushing off with my legs.

    Once "free" of Tim¡¯s reach, I immediately rolled away on the ground, creating space between him and me.

    "Not scared at all, Champ, not at all," Mr. Sanderson shouted again, clapping with a big grin.

    Breathing slightly heavily and now covered in a sheen of sweat, I prepared once more for another round of strikes with Tim, who was also standing with his guard up, equally sweaty.

    Punching people was definitely a great cardio workout.

    Nodding at Tim, I slowly walked with him to the center of the ring. But before we could start exchanging blows, the bell rang, stopping us both abruptly.

    Smiling at my friend, we bumped fists once more before walking back to our corners.

    "A hell of a fight," people outside the ring shouted words of encouragement as I walked to my corner.

    "You''re doing incredibly good Champ, by the way, it looks like I have some help," Mr. Sanderson pointing with his head said with a smile as he handed me water from my bottle. At that moment, alongside Mr. Sanderson, Diane¡¯s incredibly delicate and cold hands, holding a towel, began to dry my face and head.

    "You don¡¯t have to be here if you don¡¯t want to," I said between breaths, after letting Mr. Sanderson take my mouthguard, as I noticed the nervous expression on Diane¡¯s face.

    "I¡¯m fine here. Just please don¡¯t let yourself get hit too much," Diane said slowly, with what sounded like a lump in her throat, as she carefully dried the sides of my head.

    "I¡¯ll do my best," I said seriously trying not to snort, noticing Diane¡¯s concern.

    It was much easier said than done.

    Before I could say anything else, I noticed Mr. Sanderson weakly nudging Diane¡¯s arm, as if encouraging her to do something. Nodding repeatedly and quickly, Diane seemed to gather her courage before, with her hands still on my face, leaning in to give me a quick and nervous kiss on the cheek.

    "Good luck," Diane murmured, stepping back.

    It was just sparring, really nothing to lose... but I was definitely going to win.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 86

    The bell rang once more, and as if in a dream, everything began to move in slow motion. I remembered perfectly every step I took to approach Tim again and bump fists. Despite the cheers from the crowd starting up again alongside the sound of the bell at the beginning of the second round, when I raised my guard, all the noise faded into the background. I could hear my own breathing and the beating of my heart.

    Thanks to the false silence and my sudden calm, I could also see the rise and fall of Tim¡¯s chest with every breath, the movement of his hands and feet as he prepared his guard, and, surprisingly, even where his eyes were focused.

    When Tim threw his first punch, it was incredibly natural for me to simply dodge it and slip into his guard. Before I even realized it, my fist made contact with Tim¡¯s face, causing my friend to stagger slightly on his feet, giving me the perfect opportunity to bring him down with ease.

    Once on the ground, with me now on top of Tim, my movements¡ªpractically burned into my brain by that point¡ªkicked in. I firmly grabbed one of Tim''s arms, positioning my legs across his chest and around his arm, and used my weight to pull it with force.

    Tim, as experienced as he was, quickly recovered from the daze of the blow I¡¯d landed on his face. Unfortunately for him, not quickly enough to avoid my armbar.

    ¡°Tap,¡± I murmured, struggling to maintain control of my friend''s wrist. It was a whisper Tim surely didn¡¯t hear as I slowly lifted my hips.

    A second, that felt like minutes, later I felt the taps on the side of my calf, and I immediately let go of his arm.

    The next thing I remembered was Case¡¯s small but proud smile as the man walked over to help us up off the ground.

    ¡°I told you it¡¯d give him some encouragement,¡± I heard Mr. Sanderson say, laughing loudly.

    Turning to look at the noisy man, I noticed Diane trying not to smile, clearly a little embarrassed, as she was jostled by the shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Tim said, patting my shoulder as he stood beside Case, grinning at Diane with amusement. ¡°I let you show off,¡± he added, winking.

    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I replied sarcastically, patting Tim¡¯s side. ¡°Is your vision okay? Hearing any ringing? Have you fully recovered your balance yet?¡± I asked, inspecting the condition of his pupils while holding his head steady. As much as I felt good about ¡®winning¡¯ the sparring match, it was more important to ensure my friend was okay. A hit to the head is never something to take lightly.

    ¡°Yeah, doctor, I¡¯m fine,¡± Tim responded with a slight nod, sounding mildly exasperated but still letting me carefully inspect him. Honestly, no one in the gym resisted when I was ¡®working¡¯ on checking them. Even though we made everyone sign a liability waiver when they signed up, a little extra caution never hurt.

    ¡°All right, good fight,¡± I said, satisfied with my friend¡¯s current condition, patting his face lightly. ¡°If you feel anything off, come talk to me,¡± I warned, dodging a playful retaliatory punch for my pats.

    ¡°It was a good fight,¡± Case declared, nodding slowly. ¡°But you two are getting used to each other. You¡¯re too comfortable,¡± he added much more seriously, crossing his arms before walking away from the ring.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked Tim, intrigued.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to start fighting,¡± Tim replied, frowning slightly.

    When Tim and I stepped down from the ring, as always after our sparring matches, the people outside immediately surrounded us, patting our backs to congratulate us. Some were more enthusiastic than others¡ªpossibly because they¡¯d bet on the outcome of the sparring match.

    ¡°I have to admit, that was a little exhilarating,¡± Diane said when the crowd of excited men finally finished congratulating me. She seized a brief moment of solitude, avoiding eye contact. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I like seeing you get hurt,¡± she added seriously, slowly raising her gaze to meet mine.

    ¡°Yeah, well, that¡¯s the downside of fighting,¡± I murmured with a hint of sarcasm. ¡°That¡¯s why we train,¡± I added calmly.

    ¡°But why do it at all? Train?¡± Diane asked, pressing the towel she was using to help dry my face against me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve learned that it¡¯s really important to know how to defend yourself and the people you care about,¡± I said slowly, reflecting on the few but significant times I¡¯d had to resort to violence. ¡°Plus, surprisingly, I really enjoy doing this¡ªit¡¯s liberating.¡±

    Looking around the gym, despite the smell, the noises, the sweat on the floor, and the endless things that most people wouldn¡¯t find appealing about the place, I knew I looked forward to coming here to train every single day.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I get it,¡± Diane said slowly. ¡°But if it¡¯s really something you like to do, I guess it¡¯s okay,¡± she added reluctantly.

    ¡°I¡¯d really like it,¡± I said softly, smiling at Diane. ¡°You should try it,¡± I offered, tilting my head slightly and amused by her quick reaction.

    ¡°What? No, I don¡¯t want to hit anyone,¡± Diane quickly said, shaking her head.

    ¡°Even if I think you could kick the ass of most people here right now,¡± I quickly joked. ¡°I don¡¯t think starting with fighting someone is a good idea,¡± I added. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you how to throw a punch,¡± I said, holding out my hand to Diane.

    ¡°All right, what am I supposed to do?¡± Diane asked after I had wrapped her hand and wrist. She raised her fists in front of her face, possibly trying to mimic my guard or Tim¡¯s but failing comically with her thumbs tucked inside her fists.

    Forcing myself not to laugh at the surprisingly adorable image, I said, ¡°First, we¡¯ll learn how to make a proper fist.¡± Taking one of her hands, I explained calmly, ¡°If you punch something with your fist closed like this, you¡¯ll break your thumb. Now it¡¯s much more solid, see?¡± I added, tapping my palm against Diane¡¯s knuckles.

    ¡°Okay, I get it,¡± Diane said, opening her hands and closing them again. With a serious expression on her face, she tried once more to copy the guard she¡¯d seen.

    ¡°Yeah, great. Now, like the rest of the time in your day-to-day life, you need to see what¡¯s in front of you, so let¡¯s lower your hands a little¡ªjust a bit,¡± I said, gently lowering Diane¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Okay, now what?¡± Diane asked, her arms and hands ridiculously stiff in front of her chin.

    ¡°Now you throw a punch,¡± I replied, amused by how seriously Diane was taking the situation. I mimicked how she was standing and added, ¡°You need to make sure your arm fully extends, keeping your wrist steady after rotating it¡ªotherwise, you¡¯ll hurt yourself.¡± I demonstrated the motion slowly as I explained.

    ¡°Like this?¡± Diane asked, squinting as she slowly imitated what I had just shown her.

    ¡°Exactly like that,¡± I replied quickly, nodding. ¡°Now, let¡¯s try something other than the air.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m ready?¡± Diane asked, looking strangely nervous.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure, yeah,¡± I said with a serious face, nodding.

    ¡°All right,¡± Diane said, nodding. A moment later, out of nowhere, she threw a punch straight into my chest.

    ¡°Ah!, what?¡± I asked, incredulous, raising my arms to shield myself from any further surprise attacks but really somehow, surprisingly, I didn¡¯t feel anything from her punch. How was that even possible? It was like getting hit by a beach ball.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. Was I not supposed to do that?¡± Diane covering her mouth in panic quickly asked. ¡°Did I hurt you?¡± a moment later with obvious concern in her eyes she added.

    Not even a little. ¡°Yes,¡± I replied, avoiding a smile with all my might, placing my hand on my chest and feigning pain, causing Diane to grow even more worried.

    ¡°I knew it. I shouldn¡¯t have done this,¡± Diane said, still covering her mouth in concern, her eyes wide with worry.

    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m sorry, I lied, it didn¡¯t hurt at all,¡± seeing how genuinely scared Diane looked, I admitted quickly.

    Hearing my words she slowly lowered her hands, speechless.

    ¡°So sorry,¡± seeing the betrayal in Diane''s eyes I murmured, smiling slightly embarrassed.

    ¡°So I didn¡¯t hurt you?¡± Diane asked, pressing her lips together.

    ¡°Not even a little,¡± I replied, shaking my head slowly. ¡°Although, a bit more force behind that punch, and you¡¯d be at Tim¡¯s level, so that''s a good start,¡± I murmured jokingly. ¡°Don¡¯t tell him I said that¡± Thinking back to how Diane had a bit of a problem with knowing when and when not to say things in front of other people I quickly asked her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was funny,¡± with a frown Diane said, still annoyed, as she lightly punched my arm just as I had taught her a moment ago.

    ¡°Ah, I might be starting to regret teaching you how to punch things,¡± I said, rubbing my arm exaggeratedly, even though one more time, it didn¡¯t actually hurt.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry for hitting you,¡± Diane murmured, embarrassed. ¡°But if you don¡¯t want to get hit, don¡¯t make jokes like that,¡± she added a moment later, regaining her annoyance.

    "You''re absolutely right," I admitted, nodding slowly. "I''ll try not to make those kinds of jokes in the future," I added, keeping a completely serious expression.

    After that, I continued ''training'' with Diane at the gym, moving slowly and making sure she didn¡¯t hurt herself in any way.

    Aside from a few punches, foot positioning, and the occasional kick, I didn¡¯t really show her much else.

    "My hands hurt. I don¡¯t understand how you do this every day," Diane said, looking at her knuckles as her sweater hung from one arm when we finished training.

    "Over time, using things like that, we increase the bone density in our knuckles, which reduces the pain," I easily explained, pointing at the bag filled with stones that Case had built himself.

    "So you numb your knuckles?" Diane asked, concerned.

    "Well, not entirely. I mean, I still feel them, and it still hurts after training, but it¡¯s less and less every time," I reassured Diane calmly.

    "Can I see?" Diane asked, genuinely interested.

    "Sure," I responded, a bit puzzled, holding up my hand for her to examine. She took it between her surprisingly cold hands after working out, studying my knuckles intently.

    "Yeah, I can definitely see that the skin on your knuckles is much thicker than the rest of the skin on your hand," Diane murmured softly as she ran her fingers over my knuckles.

    "Yeah, I try to use moisturizer most of the time, but there are days I forget," I joked, though I was more focused on the softness of Diane''s hands as they brushed against mine.

    Diane, apparently catching the joke, huffed a quiet laugh, squeezing my hand lightly.

    "Let¡¯s go. I don¡¯t want to get you home late," I said, checking my watch on my free hand, slightly disappointed as I gestured toward my car.

    "Oh yeah," Diane murmured, taking the hand with my watch to check the time herself, frowning slightly, probably calculating how much time we had left to get to the ranch.

    A few minutes later, I parked my car outside the ranch where Diane¡¯s family was staying. "Five minutes before ten," I said proudly, a little relieved, as I checked my watch outside the car.

    "This is a new experience for me¡ªhaving a curfew. It¡¯s... thrilling," Diane murmured, leaning slightly toward me with a small smile on her face.

    "Until you don¡¯t make it," I commented sarcastically, though I had no real idea what I was talking about¡ªI¡¯d never had a curfew myself.

    "Yeah, I can imagine. I don¡¯t know what Hank would¡¯ve done to you or what my mom would¡¯ve done to me," Diane said calmly.

    Yeah, I wouldn¡¯t want to know either.

    "By the way, I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t go anywhere more interesting than the hospital and the gym today," I said with a smile as we walked slowly toward the porch steps of the ranch house.

    "Oh no, not at all. By all means, I really enjoyed today," Diane quickly declared, shaking her head emphatically, her eyes comically wide.

    "Well, I¡¯m glad," I responded, chuckling at her reaction. "I¡¯m really glad that you thinking I was about to die resulted in a great day," I added quickly, joking.

    "Don¡¯t say that," Diane snapped, hitting my arm, annoyed. "Not funny."

    "Definitely a bad idea to teach you how to punch," I said, laughing as I rubbed my arm.

    "Yeah..." Diane murmured, still serious. "Sucks for you," she added, trying hard not to smile¡ªbut obviously failing.

    "Wha¡ª" I began incredulously, but before I could finish, Diane suddenly hugged me tightly, just as she had done at the hospital hours earlier.

    "I''m really, really glad you''re okay," Diane murmured, her face practically buried in my chest, loud enough for me to hear.

    "Well, now I¡¯m really, really glad I¡¯m okay too," I said sarcastically, patting her shoulder gently.

    "Stop joking," Diane said, annoyed, without pulling her face away from my chest.

    "I can¡¯t. I tend to joke when I¡¯m nervous, and right now I¡¯m a little nervous," I replied quickly, still joking, though I was indeed a bit nervous.

    "You¡¯re nervous?" Diane asked, pulling her face away from my chest, clearly puzzled. "Why?"

    Amused and slightly incredulous at her genuine confusion, I stared at Diane for a few seconds, taking in her incredibly wide eyes. "Because of the time," I declared, keeping my expression completely serious, lifting the hand that had been resting on her shoulder to check my watch.

    "What? Why?" Diane asked again, confused.

    "It¡¯s past ten, and you still haven¡¯t told anyone you¡¯re here," I said calmly, letting Diane take my arm to look at my watch as she had done several times before. "So... technically, I think you¡¯re breaking your curfew," I added ironically.

    Diane¡¯s eyes widened, clearly surprised, possibly having forgotten the reason we rushed to get there. She stepped away from me, still keeping one hand on my arm. "I need to go."

    "Yup," I replied, amused, nodding.

    "Yup," Diane mimicked with a small smile. "So, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow?" she asked slowly, letting go of my arm.

    "Of course," I answered immediately, nodding.

    "Great. Then see you," Diane murmured, walking slowly toward the house, slightly sideways.

    "See you," I replied with a smile, watching her walk away.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    After several days of saying goodbye to Diane in the same way, I always felt a fleeting reluctance to leave. Standing in the cold outside the house Diane was heading into, the feeling lingered no matter how hard I tried to ignore it¡ªjust like the other days.

    Opening the door to the house, Diane paused for a moment, quickly turning to smile at me one last time before going inside.

    Pushing my strange feelings aside, I nodded to no one in particular before heading back to my car.

    Several minutes later, I parked my car in my usual spot on the street and arrived home.

    "Hey, honey, welcome back," Mom said, turning on the couch with a giant bag of chips to greet me as I dropped my keys.

    "Hey, Mom," I replied calmly, walking over to grab a chip from her bag.

    "You okay?" Mom asked, stopping my hand before I could bring the chip to my mouth, concern written on her face.

    "Uh, yeah, why?" I asked slowly, puzzled, bringing the chip to my mouth once Mom let go of my hand.

    "Nothing," Mom murmured, studying my face intently. "Come on, tell me how your day was," she added, patting the open space next to her, "just not too close," she said, wrinkling her nose and raising a hand to it.

    "Hey! I don¡¯t smell that bad," I said, offended, sitting next to Mom and taking the bag of chips from her hands. I knew I hadn¡¯t showered yet, but I didn¡¯t stink... I think.

    "No, you don¡¯t. It¡¯s just that the baby doesn¡¯t love it," Mom replied, shrugging as she rubbed her rounded belly.

    "That¡¯s only going to last a few more days, you know that, right?" I asked, amused.

    "I know, but I¡¯m the one carrying him, so I get to use the perks of it," Mom said arrogantly, snatching the bag of chips back from me.

    "Yeah, I guess so," I said, shaking my head with a laugh.

    "You guess?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow. "I assure you," she quickly added confidently. "Go on, how was your day? What did you and Diane do today?" she asked, smiling meaningfully.

    "Well, there was a case with House, so I had to go straight to the hospital," I said slowly, completely leaving out the fact that I had left school early. "So I called Diane, but she didn¡¯t answer. Her brother did. Long story short, Diane thought I was involved in some kind of accident and showed up at the hospital as a ¡®surprise.¡¯ So she stayed there."

    "Aw, that poor girl. She must have been so worried," Mom said, smiling despite her words carrying a strange sympathy. "Then what?" she asked, leaning back on the couch with her hand under her chin, eagerly awaiting more.

    "Well, not much, really. I introduced her to the team and showed her the skills lab," I explained calmly, glancing at the strange movie Mom was watching on the TV.

    "Oh, come on, you can¡¯t just give me so little," Mom said, annoyed.

    "It was really just that," I said slowly, eating another chip. "I showed her some stitches and a few books," I added with a shrug.

    Mom just stared at me silently, concern etched on her face.

    "Yeah, I know," I said quickly, immediately understanding her silence. "But she seemed to enjoy it," I added, tilting my head.

    "Really?" Mom asked, frowning in surprise.

    "Really," I replied, nodding slowly.

    "Well, I guess that''s what really matters," Mom said, shrugging and returning her attention to the TV. "And then you took her home," she added, turning up the volume, sounding disappointed.

    "Well, not really. She wanted to see the gym, and one thing led to another, so Diane saw me fight Tim," I explained thoughtfully.

    "She what?" Mom exclaimed, frowning in obvious anger.

    Later that night, after dinner and sticking to the routine, I worked out with Bob and Gabe. It wasn¡¯t too strenuous, but afterward, I enjoyed a much-needed hot bath before going to bed.

    The next morning, bright and early, I arrived at the hospital. Following the directions of the ever-helpful nurses, I walked to the clinic.

    "Well, look at that, the kid working on a weekend. Is it my birthday, Wilson?" House asked as I opened the door to the office. Inside, I found House and Dr. Wilson sitting on a bed and a chair, respectively.

    "So refreshed, so renewed," Dr. Wilson murmured, shaking his head slowly. Like House, he wore the same clothes as the day before and looked utterly exhausted. "I envy you so much right now," he added through clenched teeth.

    "One of the perks of not being a doctor yet¡ªI don¡¯t have to pull all-nighters," I replied with a slightly smug smile, leaning against one of the room¡¯s counters.

    "Yeah, yeah. Congratulations on getting a good night¡¯s sleep," House dismissed, waving a hand disinterestedly, his eyes glued to a small portable TV.

    "So, any updates on the case?" I asked, ignoring House¡¯s behavior. After all, that was the only reason I had come to the hospital.

    "Oh, just a couple of things," House replied nonchalantly, still focused on the tiny TV. "I convinced the patient to undergo surgery to remove a clot that was causing paralysis in his arm, and magically, his legs work again. Nothing major."

    "What?" I murmured, absorbing his words, my thoughts racing.

    "Yup, something worked," House said, nodding slowly, his attention still on the TV.

    "And it¡¯s definitely something he was given here. So, I assume you¡¯ve stopped all medications," I deduced quickly, realizing what was happening.

    Obviously, the patient¡¯s improvement had been due to one of the treatments he had received in the hospital¡ªsteroids, antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, something. Stopping everything would allow the symptoms to return, and the medications could then be reintroduced one by one.

    "And that¡¯s why I tolerate you," House said, grinning maliciously as he finally looked at me.

    "That¡¯s not creepy at all," Dr. Wilson muttered, shaking his head as he stared at me. "It¡¯s like watching a much, much younger House," he added slowly. "Without being, you know... House," he added apologetically, likely noticing my furrowed brow.

    "Don¡¯t say it too loud; the kid might get a big head," House sneered.

    "How long has it been?" I asked, ignoring House¡¯s attitude.

    "A couple of hours," House replied calmly.

    "And what if he doesn¡¯t handle it?" I asked, nodding slowly as I considered how long it would take for the patient¡¯s system to clear the medications.

    "I feel like I¡¯ve already answered these questions. How did you put it? Oh, yes¡ªone of the downsides of not being a doctor yet is not listening to conversations," House responded disdainfully.

    I didn¡¯t really need an answer. I was sure House didn¡¯t have a plan for such a scenario; we were simply waiting for the best possible outcome.

    Before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock at the office door, which immediately opened.

    "Greg," Dr. Hamilton said as he entered, slightly out of breath¡ªlikely from rushing through the hospital corridors. "Can I have a word?"

    "Can it wait for the commercial break, Marty?" House asked sarcastically. "Say hi to my friend Jimmy," he added, gesturing to Dr. Wilson.

    Dr. Hamilton, who hadn¡¯t noticed me on the other side of the office, stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Pleasure," he said, approaching the bed where House was seated. His entire body language screamed that he didn¡¯t want to be there¡ªembarrassed and strangely defeated.

    House, still focused on his tiny TV, hadn¡¯t noticed, but I had.

    "Your... diagnostic trial¡ª" Dr. Hamilton began, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and forcing a fake smile, only to be interrupted.

    "Seriously, the commercial¡¯s in about five minutes," House said rudely, cutting him off.

    "It¡¯s a dangerous game," Dr. Hamilton said quickly.

    "Only if we¡¯re watching in the bathtub," House retorted instantly, dripping with sarcasm.

    "I need to know exactly what medications you were giving John Henry," Dr. Hamilton said, wringing his hands nervously but maintaining his forced smile.

    "Forget it, and if Foreman¡ª" House started to say, but I cut him off.

    "It¡¯s already happening," I deduced aloud, surprised as the reason for Dr. Hamilton¡¯s visit clicked into place. I quickly ran through the possible medications that might have already been cleared from the patient¡¯s system.

    "What?" Dr. Hamilton asked, turning in surprise at the presence of another person. "Mark, was it?" he said, looking at me and seemingly recognizing me by ¡®my name.¡¯

    "Mark?" Dr. Wilson asked, confused.

    "Explain, kid," House ordered, raising an eyebrow as he turned his attention away from the TV.

    "The patient has started losing mobility," I explained quickly, noting Dr. Hamilton¡¯s widened eyes. "That¡¯s why he¡¯s here¡ªhe needs to know which medications the patient has stopped receiving," I added, pointing at Dr. Hamilton as I moved away from the counter I had been leaning on.

    House squinted slightly, studying Dr. Hamilton¡¯s face for a moment before nodding. "You¡¯re right. Come on," he declared, standing up quickly.

    "A concierge, huh?" Dr. Hamilton said monotonously, barely showing any emotion as he looked at me while I walked past him alongside House.

    "You know I would¡¯ve figured it out on my own," House said proudly as we walked at his brisk pace through the hospital corridors.

    "Yeah, if you weren¡¯t so busy watching TV, I¡¯m pretty sure you would¡¯ve," I replied dryly, feeling slightly smug.

    "Are you smiling?" House mocked. "You¡¯re not supposed to feel proud about this¡ªit¡¯s just another day at work," he added dismissively.

    Ignoring House and focusing on keeping my face neutral, we continued walking in silence toward the patient¡¯s room. Inside, Dr. Foreman and the blonde woman were with the patient.

    "Hey, doc," John Henry, the patient, greeted weakly from his bed. "Didn¡¯t know doctors could be this young," he added jokingly, focusing on me.

    "I¡¯m PJ Duncan¡ªI¡¯m not a doctor yet," I replied quickly, silently assessing his condition.

    "He¡¯s basically a doctor in everything but title," Dr. Foreman said calmly, fully focused on the patient, catching me completely off guard.

    "Yeah, the kid¡¯s awesome," House declared dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Let¡¯s work," he added seriously, pressing one of the patient¡¯s legs firmly with his finger.

    The lack of reaction made it clear the patient wasn¡¯t regaining sensation.

    "He¡¯s getting worse," House declared, grabbing the chart at the foot of the bed and stomping his cane in frustration. In silence, he stared at the patient.

    Shaking his head and lifting his hands weakly, the patient responded in equal frustration.

    "Right now, you still work for me," House pointed at Dr. Foreman. "Come on," he added, grabbing his cane and quickly leaving the room. "Kid!" he yelled from the hallway.

    "You¡¯re not that fast," I muttered, exhaling as I focused on doing calculations based on everything I knew about the patient. There were three possible options.

    While lost in thought, House and Dr. Foreman led me through the hospital corridors to one of the labs where Cameron and Chase were working.

    "Come on," House continued seriously after briefly addressing Cameron and Chase, who greeted me with a quick nod. We headed toward the diagnostics lounge.

    "No feeling, no wiggling," House muttered once we reached the lounge. "Bad news is John Henry¡¯s back where he started," he declared calmly. "Good news is Hamilton looks bad."

    "Yeah, it¡¯s not whether you win or lose," Dr. Foreman said sarcastically. "It¡¯s whether the other guy loses."

    "What was the first thing we put him on?" House asked aloud, ignoring Foreman¡¯s words.

    "Steroids, for the pneumonia," Chase quickly responded.

    "Well, put him back on them," House said. "Give him¡ª" he immediately tried to continue, but I interrupted him.

    "No," I said, finally settling on my calculations.

    "Okay, then let¡¯s do nothing. See you on Monday," House sarcastically declared, clapping.

    "We need to put him back on anti-inflammatories," I quickly said, ignoring House''s silly joke, which caused the doctors to look at me strangely.

    "You heard him," House said calmly after a few seconds, shrugging his shoulders.

    "Just like that? You¡¯re not going to ask why?" Dr. Foreman asked incredulously, frowning at House.

    "No, I believe in the kid," House replied effortlessly, surprising everyone, especially me. "At least I trust he¡¯s not stupid enough to miscalculate which medication would be cleared first from the patient¡¯s system."

    "Calculations?" Dr. Foreman asked again, still incredulous.

    "One of the books House gave me to read had all this information about drug absorption times," I quickly explained. "I just compared it with all the data collected by Dr. Hamilton. I took into account factors like liver function, kidney function, the patient¡¯s age, all the other medications, and the metabolic systems those drugs affected. The one that would disappear first from the system is the anti-inflammatory," I added, feeling increasingly embarrassed by the surprised looks from Chase, Cameron, and Dr. Foreman.

    "Well, put him back on them," House said with a slight smile. "Give him twenty-four hours and see what happens," he added indifferently, shrugging.

    "Wait, wait," Dr. Foreman quickly said, raising his hands to stop anyone else from speaking. "Are you really planning to follow a course of action based on some ''calculations'' PJ made?" he asked House, frowning.

    "Well... yeah," House replied, feigning confusion as though he didn¡¯t understand Dr. Foreman¡¯s doubt.

    "Of course you are," Dr. Foreman murmured in disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    "And can we get a new MRI?" I quickly asked, seeing that House was about to make another joke and wanting to avoid more issues.

    "Sure," House answered immediately, smiling exaggeratedly, likely to annoy Dr. Foreman. "Chase, take care of the scan. Cameron, put him on the anti-inflammatories," House ordered, dropping his playful tone, causing the doctors to set off on their tasks. "We should probably talk, huh?" he added ironically, raising his eyebrow while addressing Dr. Foreman.

    "I¡¯ll go with Chase and Cameron," I said indifferently, walking behind them to avoid witnessing the argument between House and Foreman.

    "What, scared to see mom and dad fight?" House asked, acting childishly unpleasant.

    "Yup," I responded without giving him more attention, not wanting to imagine who was the mom and who was the dad in his analogy.

    "Wise choice," Chase whispered to me with a meaningful smile as we walked alongside Cameron.

    "Mr. Giles, we¡¯re restarting your anti-inflammatory treatment," Cameron calmly explained while administering the medication into the patient¡¯s IV upon reaching his room.

    "And this will get my legs back?" the patient asked hopefully, still completely weak in his bed.

    "At least that¡¯s what we think, yes," Chase, standing beside me at the door, quickly replied.

    "No promises, huh?" the patient scoffed, prompting Chase to simply shake his head in response.

    "I respect that," the patient murmured, nodding slightly.

    "It¡¯s done," Cameron said, discarding the remains of the medication after silently administering it.

    "All right, now we need new images, so let¡¯s head to the scanners," Chase quickly said as he approached the bed.

    "Whatever you need, doc," the patient said weakly, nodding.

    In practically no time, Chase was pushing the patient¡¯s bed through the hospital hallways toward the imaging room.

    "So, a doctor in everything but the title?" John Henry Giles asked, looking directly at me as we walked.

    "Sorry?" I asked, confused by his sudden question.

    "What Dr. Foreman said¡ªyou''re a doctor in everything but the title. What did he mean by that?" the patient slowly explained, seeming amused by his question.

    "Oh, that..." I said awkwardly, remembering what Dr. Foreman had declared. It had been so surprising to hear him say that I might have pushed it to the back of my mind.

    "Foreman said that in front of you?" Cameron asked, as surprised as I had been when Foreman said it.

    "And he meant it¡ªnot being sarcastic or demeaning?" Chase asked, joking.

    "Yeah," I said, nodding stiffly as I recalled Dr. Foreman¡¯s surprising words.

    "Then what did he mean by that? Are you some kind of genius or something?" the patient asked, barely able to keep his eyes open, his voice completely weak.

    "I¡¯ve just read a lot of medical books and happen to understand them easily," I responded, slightly embarrassed, trying not to give too much importance to the matter.

    "Oh, don¡¯t downplay your brain," Cameron said quickly, sounding offended. "He¡¯s a genius. Foreman, like all of us, knows that PJ could easily be in med school right now, but PJ wants to finish high school with his friends."

    At least the ones who are left.

    "Yeah, he¡¯s like a walking medical encyclopedia. If I were sick and no one knew why, I¡¯d definitely trust PJ and Dr. House," Chase added, smiling as if enjoying my embarrassment.

    "Then I¡¯m really glad you¡¯re here," the patient said, nodding with approval.

    Regretting a little my decision to accompany Chase and Cameron, I gave the patient an embarrassed smile.

    "Now I understand why Dr. Foreman hates you. He¡¯s intimidated by your talent," the patient declared matter-of-factly, closing his eyes.

    "Whoa, Dr. Foreman doesn¡¯t hate me," I said quickly, surprised by the patient¡¯s words. Internally, I debated the truth of my own statement. "I¡¯m just not his favorite person in the hospital," I added, sounding much less sure.

    Chase immediately snorted at my words. "Speaking of underestimating things," he whispered, leaning toward me loud enough for only me to hear.

    Not long after, we arrived at the MRI room, where Cameron and Chase, with the help of the technician and a couple of nurses, prepared the patient for the machine.

    "Stay perfectly still. This might take a few minutes," Chase said, speaking into the microphone in the control room before releasing the button a second later. "So, do you really think House will terminate Foreman¡¯s contract?" Chase asked once we were isolated.

    "He has to," Cameron quickly replied. "If he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯s telling Foreman he needs him," she added, speaking alongside the loud noise of the giant machine. "And House can¡¯t handle that."

    "Foreman¡¯s not going to leave," I commented calmly as I waited for the images to appear, causing both Chase and Cameron to look at me curiously.

    "Oh, right. You weren¡¯t there. Foreman told us Dr. Hamilton offered him a job, and he seemed pretty willing to take it," Cameron quickly explained.

    "Maybe he thought so at the time because he was furious with House, but I assure you, he¡¯s not going anywhere," I replied confidently.

    "What, now that Foreman openly says nice things about you, you¡¯re best friends?" Chase asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

    "No," I replied, rolling my eyes slightly, exasperated by his joke. "It¡¯s just that Dr. Hamilton isn¡¯t half as good as House¡ªmaybe not even as good as Foreman himself. And Foreman knows that," I added, crossing my arms.

    And it was true. From the little I had seen of Dr. Hamilton, I knew he was a decent doctor, certainly, but nowhere near as brilliant in medicine as House. Much kinder, sure, but that was about it.

    "So you think Foreman will stay just because House is a genius?" Cameron asked curiously.

    "No, not because House is a genius. It¡¯s because House is stubborn, and in a way, so is Foreman," I said calmly. At the same time, with the slowness only computers of this era could display, the MRI of the patient¡¯s spine began to appear on the screens. "Dr. Hamilton was more than ready to give up without finding a further reason for the paralysis. House wasn¡¯t¡ªwhether that¡¯s good or bad. And deep down, I think Foreman agrees with him," I added, knowing full well that this was the same reason I continued studying with House.

    House might not be entirely a good person, but at least he was a good diagnostician.

    "Oh my God," Cameron, who had been half-focused on the computer screen, murmured when she saw the result.

    "So as long as House keeps being right in his diagnoses, Foreman will stay here," I added proudly, seeing the same thing Cameron did. My hunch was correct¡ªthe static in the previous images wasn¡¯t static; it was swelling, concealing the cause of the paralysis.

    "Arteriovenous malformation, intradural. It¡¯s compressing his spine," I murmured, unable to stop smiling as I stepped closer to the screen.

    "The anti-inflammatories would¡¯ve relieved the extra pressure the AVM is putting on the spine, allowing him to regain mobility in his legs. You were right," Chase said in disbelief, staring at the screen as well.

    "We need to take this to House," Cameron said, pressing a few keys to start printing the images.

    "I¡¯ll tell the nurses to move the patient back to his room," Chase quickly said, standing up and leaving the control room.

    "Like I said," Cameron murmured proudly, watching the printer to ensure it worked properly, "don¡¯t underestimate your brain."

    A few minutes later, with the MRI prints in hand, Chase, Cameron, and I hurried back to the diagnostics lounge. Dr. Foreman was sitting across from House, who was standing. Surprisingly, they both seemed rather calm.

    "Arteriovenous malformation," Cameron announced as soon as we entered, walking over to House¡¯s lightbox to place the printed images.

    "Intradural. It¡¯s compressing his spine," Chase said with a smile, repeating what I¡¯d said a few minutes earlier.

    "Causing his paralysis," I added cheerfully.

    "How could Hamilton have missed an AVM?" Dr. Foreman asked, incredulity and disappointment evident in his tone.

    "Well, we missed it too," House muttered while looking at the images before him. "But the kid didn¡¯t," he added with an unusual smile, turning to look at me. The rest of the doctors followed his gaze.

    "How?" Foreman asked, clearly impressed.

    "I don¡¯t know, it was a hunch," I answered, slightly embarrassed. I didn¡¯t have a solid explanation. "The static in the previous MRI images didn¡¯t sit right with me," I said as I moved to grab the old images from the cabinet under the lightbox. "Here, same anatomic location."

    "It¡¯s not there," Cameron said, puzzled.

    "Not at first glance, but there¡¯s static," I pointed out, prompting Cameron to lean in closer.

    "Scar tissue? Inflammation?" Chase asked, surprised.

    "If it¡¯s inflammation, the anti-inflammatories would¡¯ve shrunk it down," Dr. Foreman murmured, still skeptical, "revealing the AVM."

    "Which has always been there, hiding behind its own swelling," House declared slowly. "We remove that, he¡¯ll walk again," he added, nodding toward me with a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of pride in his eyes.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 87

    Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas or Hanukkah (happy Newton''s day too).

    I hope you all have spent these holidays with your loved ones and if not I hope you can meet them soon, maybe for New Year''s, either way I send you a big hug.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    With the cause of the paralysis identified, all that was left was for the patient to undergo surgery, possibly a couple of days of rehabilitation, and, with a bit of luck, they wouldn¡¯t set foot in a hospital again for many years.

    House, who was staring intently at the images, had a small but still noticeable smile on his face.

    "You''re smiling? It¡¯s just another day at work," I said quickly, seizing the rare opportunity of House smiling for a reason other than to humiliate someone, recalling what he had told me a few minutes ago.

    "Oh, I''m sorry," House said quickly, covering his mouth with exaggerated surprise. "I was just thinking about the face Marty¡¯s going to make," he added, grinning maliciously.

    Of course, his main intention was to rub his "victory" in the other doctor¡¯s face.

    "Of course you are," Dr. Foreman declared irritably, shaking his head as he walked out of the room. "I''ll go tell the patient the good news."

    "Wait, I really want to see his face," House declared with some excitement, quickly following Foreman, trailed closely by Cameron and Chase.

    "Aren¡¯t you coming, PJ?" Cameron asked, stopping after taking a couple of steps.

    "No, I have to be somewhere else," I said, checking my watch and smiling apologetically.

    "I see," Cameron replied with a significant smile, raising an eyebrow. "Say hi to Diane for me," she added a moment before leaving to follow the other doctors, who were already far ahead.

    Not intending to correct Cameron¡ªbecause, indeed, where I needed to be at that moment was with Diane¡ªI walked off amused, heading in the opposite direction down the same hallway.

    "PJ, honey," after saying goodbye to the nurses at the hospital¡¯s reception desk, Nurse Florence, my mother¡¯s supervisor, stopped me with a broad smile, as if she had just remembered something.

    "Yeah?" I asked, stopping in my tracks and smiling at her.

    "I almost forgot," she said, putting a hand to her chin, slightly embarrassed. "Your mom called. She asked me to tell you that you could go straight home. Diane is there," she said, trying to suppress what seemed to be a wide, meaningful smile, raising her eyebrows.

    "What?" I asked incredulously. Diane was at my house?

    "Diane is at your house. You don¡¯t have to pick up your girlfriend," she declared, clasping her hands in front of her chest, causing the rest of the nurses to smile knowingly in unison.

    Since when was Diane at my house? Why was she there?

    "All right, thanks," I said quickly, nodding, suddenly feeling very nervous at the thought of my mom and Diane in the same room. I walked toward the hospital exit, thanking Florence as I left.

    "Don''t mention it," I heard Florence, who was laughing with the rest of the nurses, say behind me as I exited quickly.

    Keeping within the speed limit¡ªpossibly right at the maximum¡ªI drove home, thinking of countless possible bad outcomes of such a sudden interaction between Mom and Diane.

    With Diane¡¯s social nerves and Mom¡¯s surely incessant questions, I was pretty sure Diane would be quite uncomfortable.

    When I arrived home and got out of my car, the first thing I saw was Frank, Diane¡¯s brother, helping Georgie and Gabe carry chairs to the backyard. It seemed we were having a barbecue, and surely Bob and Mr. Cooper were already preparing the meat and the grill.

    "Hey," Georgie, carrying a chair and walking toward me, was the first to notice me. He didn¡¯t even try to hide the smug look on his face.

    "Hey," I replied absentmindedly, walking quickly toward the house.

    "They¡¯re not there," Gabe declared, mimicking Georgie¡¯s smug expression, just as I reached the front door.

    "Thanks," I said, walking quickly¡ªalmost running¡ªdown the porch stairs toward the Coopers'' house.

    "PJ," Sheldon, who was watching television in the living room of his house, greeted me when I walked straight into the Coopers'' house through their open door without any decorum.

    "Hi, Sheldon," I nodded quickly to my young friend as I walked toward the Coopers'' kitchen, where I could hear women laughing.

    "Diane?" I called out as I entered the kitchen, my tone more concerned than I¡¯d have liked. My voice abruptly interrupted all the laughter and chatter that had been filling the room before my arrival.

    I had fully expected to find my mom interrogating Diane while the girl, visibly uncomfortable, answered her questions and wished she were anywhere else.

    Instead, I found Diane smiling, visibly comfortable and relaxed, apparently in the middle of a conversation as she helped Teddy and Mrs. Cooper chop vegetables for a salad.

    Mom, seated with Missy and Meemaw at the Coopers'' small kitchen table, was calmly sipping a drink¡ªMeemaw had a beer, Missy a juice box, and Mom a glass of water.

    "Hey," Diane said softly, biting her lip slightly in surprise, her usual nervous tic, while smiling at me like the rest of the women in the room.

    "And everyone, hi. I didn¡¯t know you were all here," I lied quickly, embarrassed by my sudden entrance. "I just came to grab a soda to help Georgie and the kids with the chairs," I added, trying to think quickly as I walked toward the Coopers'' fridge to grab a root beer. Unfortunately, even I knew I hadn¡¯t been convincing at all.

    "Liar," Meemaw murmured teasingly, taking a sip of her beer.

    "L-Y-E-R, liar," Missy muttered, mimicking Meemaw, sipping her juice and earning amused looks from both the older woman and her mom.

    "Weren¡¯t you going to help with the chairs, PJ?" Mom asked, sitting comfortably and raising an eyebrow.

    "Ye-yeah," I stammered, nodding stiffly after a second.

    To get to the door leading directly to the Coopers¡¯ backyard, I had to walk right through the middle of the room under the amused gazes of all the women.

    As I walked, I could feel and see the amused looks every single one of them was giving me¡ªeven Mrs. Cooper. Teddy went as far as to "shoo" me out of the room, waving her hands insistently.

    When I reached the patio door, I paused for a moment, studying Diane¡¯s expression one last time. She seemed to be trying her hardest not to laugh.

    "Okay," I murmured uncomfortably, standing under the doorframe. A moment later, I nodded stiffly and stepped out into the backyard.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    I hadn¡¯t taken more than three steps when I suddenly heard the women¡¯s laughter erupt behind me inside the house.

    "Hey, champ, I didn¡¯t know you were here," Bob said, pleasantly surprised, as I walked from the Coopers¡¯ backyard into ours.

    "I got here a few minutes ago," I replied, nodding at him in greeting, still lost in thought, surprised that Diane hadn¡¯t seemed uncomfortable earlier.

    "That¡¯s good," Bob said, taking a sip of his beer. "Come on, help us with the meat," he added, nodding toward the grill, where Mr. Cooper was standing with his own beer.

    Not long after, everyone from both families, including Sheldon, who was keeping a watchful eye on the sky, was gathered in the backyard with the food already on the table.

    Surprisingly, Diane chose, with a small, polite smile, to sit entirely surrounded by the other women of the two families, on the opposite corner of the table from where I was seated.

    "What do you think, PJ?" Mr. Cooper suddenly asked from my side of the table, breaking my concentration as I watched Diane engage effortlessly in conversation with my mom and the other women.

    "Sorry, about what?" I asked, embarrassed, looking at Mr. Cooper.

    "Our chances next season," Mr. Cooper explained easily.

    "Oh," I murmured, nodding in gratitude. "I think it¡¯s going to be tough. We lost two of our best players."

    "Yeah, Brock and Wolff were key," Mr. Cooper agreed thoughtfully, nodding. "But I still think we¡¯ve got a good chance after that."

    With the loss of Alan and Brock and our record last season, we hadn¡¯t managed to qualify for the postseason games. Mr. Cooper¡¯s words were full of hope, yes, but little else.

    "Yeah, we¡¯ve got a chance," Georgie, sitting next to me, said unconvincingly, avoiding his father¡¯s gaze at all costs.

    During the last few games we played, Georgie had spent most of the time on the bench. I could see how he was slowly losing interest in the game. We might be losing another player.

    Having received the answer to his question, Mr. Cooper immersed himself in a completely different conversation with Bob. Meanwhile, Georgie, Gabe, and Frank were engaged in a debate about a movie involving a bouncer at a Roadhouse.

    Sheldon, seated on my other side, had barely touched his food and was still staring at the sky. "Everything okay, Sheldon?" I asked, smiling at the boy.

    "I saw a bird a few minutes ago," he responded, clearly concerned.

    Amused by my young friend''s behavior, I said, "Eat your food. I''ll keep watch on the sky for you for a few minutes," patting his shoulder lightly.

    "Thanks. My neck was starting to hurt," he said, visibly relieved as he lowered his gaze and rubbed his neck.

    "Don''t mention it," I said with a chuckle. A moment later, instinctively turning my head for a second to glance at Diane, I caught her staring at me with a small smile.

    Smiling back, I shrugged playfully, as Diane had probably overheard my exchange with Sheldon. A moment later, I lifted my head to start my ''bird watch.''

    It was clear Diane was making an effort to socialize. It was evident from her reaction whenever our eyes met that she needed to compose herself occasionally. Throughout the time we spent eating in the backyard, we kept exchanging glances. Each time, I took the opportunity to smile reassuringly at her.

    Later, after the meal, Georgie, Gabe, and Frank decided to head inside to watch a movie and finally settle their strange debate about Rocky and someone named Dalton. Diane, along with Missy and Teddy, was practically dragged to my sister''s room.

    Seeing Diane laugh softly at something Missy said on the way to my house¡ªand more so, seeing her actively participate in conversations¡ªfilled me with a strange sense of pride and relief.

    "I really like her," Mom said loudly the moment Diane was out of sight, now inside the house with Teddy and Missy.

    "That''s good. I''m glad," I replied, smiling at Mom, amused and unsure of what response she was expecting.

    "She''s really kind and extremely intelligent," Mom added, nodding seriously.

    "And she''s pretty, above all," Meemaw chimed in with a meaningful smile.

    "Yes, she is," I murmured in agreement, feeling a little uncomfortable as everyone at the table nodded in agreement with Meemaw¡¯s words and stared at me with a strange look.

    With everyone except Sheldon¡ªwho was still suspiciously watching the sky¡ªgazing at me with an odd expression of concern, I progressively felt more uneasy.

    "You better treat her very well, PJ. You know how her mother is," Mrs. Cooper, the most serious of the group, said while slightly clenching her jaw.

    "Of course he will! I taught him everything he needs to know about girls," Bob declared proudly, though slightly drunk.

    "I have more useful advice than you, old man. Come to my office Monday, and I''ll tell you all about it," Mr. Cooper quickly quipped, prompting Bob to huff in amusement.

    "Anyway, I just want you to know I approve of this relationship," Mom declared magnanimously, lifting her chin slightly after giving Bob a side-eye. Mrs. Cooper mirrored the gesture toward her own husband, who was laughing along with Bob.

    Okay¡­ That was my cue to leave.

    "Thanks, Mom," I said, unsure how to take her ''approval'' as I stood up. "I guess," I added in a murmur. "I''ll take these inside," I said, grabbing the plates and cutlery from the table with a stiff smile.

    "Thanks, honey," Mom said cheerfully, smiling. "I''ll have tea with Mary. Have fun responsibly," she added, raising an eyebrow and emphasizing the last part.

    Yes, I definitely needed to leave.

    "Since PJ has left the table, I shall also excuse myself," Sheldon abruptly declared, standing up with purpose. "Thanks for the food," he added before heading off toward his house.

    Carrying the plates and utensils used during the meal, I quickly entered the house after offering a stiff smile as a goodbye.

    Passing behind the three boys watching TV, I found them still arguing.

    "Look at that kick! Of course Dalton could beat Rocky," Georgie declared with a furrowed brow, completely serious.

    "I don''t think so. Rocky''s punches are way more explosive," Frank, the twelve-year-old debating with Georgie, countered. He was supported by Gabe, who seemed amused by the situation.

    I got it¡ªit was certainly entertaining to watch Georgie argue seriously with a kid.

    Ignoring the boys, I continued to the kitchen, catching the loud music coming from Teddy¡¯s room, mixed with laughter that filtered through the noise.

    After leaving the plates in the sink, I returned to the living room and sat beside Gabe to watch the rest of the movie with the boys¡ªor at least tried to. Georgie kept pausing the movie to point out certain punches or kicks, which Frank quickly and surprisingly articulately countered.

    "Wait. You''ve seen movies?" I asked Frank, surprised.

    "Of course. I watch a lot of TV with Hank when Mom¡¯s with Diane," the boy answered matter-of-factly.

    In a way, Frank¡¯s childhood was also rather sad. The boy was essentially ignored by his mother.

    "PJ," Teddy¡¯s voice called out, snapping me from my thoughts as the music from her room grew louder.

    "Yeah?" I asked, slightly turning to see my sister walking toward the door.

    "I''m grabbing your music records from your car," Teddy declared casually, taking ''Debbie''s'' keys from the small table near the door.

    "Sure," I said, shrugging and nodding.

    With Teddy¡¯s door open, my eyes instinctively wandered into her room. To my surprise, they locked onto Diane¡¯s. Unlike earlier glances in the backyard, Diane quickly turned her head away, clearly embarrassed, as if trying to "hide" from me.

    "Don¡¯t peek!" Missy suddenly appeared and slammed the door shut.

    At that moment, Teddy re-entered through the front door, carrying a couple of my records.

    "You locked my car, right?" I asked as I watched my sister run excitedly toward her room.

    "Yes," Teddy replied without paying me any attention as she disappeared into her room.

    The movie resumed while laughter and music grew louder from Teddy¡¯s room.

    At one point, after a good portion of the movie had passed, Teddy¡¯s door opened again, releasing the loud music from her room.

    "PJ, Diane wants a glass of water," Teddy declared with a laugh before the door slammed shut again.

    Diane, standing just outside Teddy¡¯s room, simply stood with her head down, rocking on her feet.

    "Okay," I said slowly as I stood up. "Come on, Diane," I said, trying to see her face, but she continued avoiding my gaze, leaving me puzzled by the sudden situation.

    Walking behind me, Diane kept her head down, avoiding eye contact.

    "Are you okay, Diane?" I asked, concerned, once we were in the kitchen.

    "Yeah, sorry," she nodded, still avoiding facing me completely, sounding embarrassed.

    "What¡¯s wrong?" I asked nervously, gently taking her arm.

    Had she fought with Teddy? No, they were laughing just a minute ago.

    "Nothing," Diane said, "jsut..." seemingly gathering her courage. She nodded firmly and raised her head.

    "Wha¡ª" I immediately noticed what was going on. Diane had a thin layer of makeup on her face. It was surprising and new but not bad at all.

    I knew Diane well enough to have her face memorized. Her lashes were now much curlier, there was a barely visible blush on her cheeks, and her lips were a deeper pink than usual. Somehow, she seemed to glow as she kept her eyes locked on mine.

    "What do you think?" Diane asked nervously, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocked slightly on her feet.

    "You look... beautiful," I said quickly, realizing I had been silent, captivated by her appearance. "Like you always do," I added slowly, still lost in Diane¡¯s now strangely larger eyes.

    "Thanks. You don¡¯t look bad yourself," Diane replied, smiling as she gently bit her lip¡ªa habit she had whenever she tried not to smile too much. She placed a hand on my arm, clearly proud of her little joke.

    Laughing incredulously at how much Diane had changed, I shook my head slightly. "Thanks, I do what I can," I replied.

    Along with my words, Diane and I stood in a comfortable silence within the kitchen. Feeling her cold hand on my arm and seeing her beautiful but small smile, I found myself thinking about wanting to see her like this for the rest of my life. Embarrassed with myself, I lowered my gaze slightly.

    I might been just a little in love with Diane.

    "PJ¡ª" Diane began nervously, "Diane¡ª" I said at the same time.

    "Sorry, you first," Diane quickly said with a soft laugh.

    "No¡ª" I started to say when I was interrupted again.

    "The baby is coming!" Bob shouted nervously from outside the kitchen.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 88

    Sorry for the delay of this chapter.

    I have to admit that I was in a major block for this chapter. As I''ve said many times, I always have a general idea of the direction I want the novel to continue in. The problem with this chapter happened when I sat down to write it. I knew what I wanted to happen in the chapter, but I couldn''t write it.

    So, I did what any normal person would do¡ªI took a break.

    But I''m back.

    Enjoy.

    ...

    When I heard Bob''s words, I froze for a second, needing to process what I had just heard. Diane, who was beside me, gently placed her hand on my arm, a small gesture enough to snap me out of my state of shock.

    Immediately, with Diane right behind me, I quickly left the kitchen. Standing behind the couch in the living room, Bob was completely frozen with his hands raised near his head, seemingly unsure of what to do with the information he himself had just given. It was rather surprising that after three children, the man still didn''t know what to do.

    "And what are we doing here?" Gabe, who, along with Frank and Georgie, had jumped up from the couch, asked incredulously. "We need to go to the hospital!" he added nervously.

    "Everyone stay calm!" Once Gabe snapped him out of his trance, Bob suddenly exclaimed, being the most agitated of everyone present.

    "What''s going on?" Teddy, opening the door to her room¡ªwhich was still vibrating with loud music¡ªasked.

    "Your mom is having the baby," Diane, who was possibly the only calm person in the house, explained simply to Teddy.

    Just like I had been a few seconds earlier, Teddy froze for a moment to process Diane''s words before shouting at me, "What?!"

    "Yes," I replied, nodding. "Now calm down. You guys have a plan for this, right?" I asked, pointing at Bob. "A bag?" I added, tilting my head. I remembered Mom mentioning something about a bag with everything needed for her stay and discharge from the hospital.

    "Yes! The bag!" Bob declared quickly, nodding as he turned 180 degrees and clapped his hands before running to his room.

    "Now, Teddy, get all the kids and go to the Coopers'' house. I''ll drive Mom and Dad to the hospital," I ordered quickly, remembering how Bob and Mr. Cooper had been drinking.

    "What? No, I''ll go too!" Teddy immediately replied, frowning.

    "If Teddy goes, I''m going too!" Gabe said quickly upon hearing Teddy''s words, starting a rapid and disorganized argument between him and Teddy.

    "Okay, shut up!" Annoyed, I shouted, silencing the yelling in the living room as I saw my siblings were not planning to end their argument.

    Following my command, my siblings¡ªand apparently all the noise around us¡ªfell into complete silence. Teddy and Gabe, visibly startled, looked at me with a bit of fear, which, surprisingly, Georgie and Frank also shared as they stared at me.

    "This is not the time for this," I said calmly, lowering my voice, which made everyone relax.

    "But Mom¡ª" Gabe, the first to recover from the surprise of my shouting, began to say before I interrupted him.

    "No, I don''t want to hear it," I said, raising my finger and slightly raising my voice again.

    I completely understood what Teddy and Gabe were going through. I was also extremely worried about Mom, but at that moment, she needed to stay as calm as possible¡ªfor her sake and the baby''s.

    "Now, Teddy, please take the kids to the Coopers'' house," I ordered slowly but firmly, making Teddy clench her jaw.

    "All right," Teddy murmured, obviously disappointed, causing Gabe to lower his head in defeat.

    "Mom might be in a lot of pain right now, which is normal. Don''t worry about that," I quickly explained after achieving my goal. "So I don''t want you to start arguing under any circumstances in front of her. She needs to stay as calm as possible. Are we clear?" I asked, tilting my head slightly with a hint of severe warning behind my words.

    I wasn''t a monster; I simply wanted the trip to the hospital to be as stress-free as possible for my mom. If necessary, I would come back for Teddy and Gabe to visit her myself, but I highly doubted it would come to that. I was sure the Coopers would go even without being invited.

    "Yes," Gabe and Teddy answered at the same time.

    "Good, go on," I ordered, nodding as I carefully studied my siblings'' reactions, especially Gabe''s.

    "Come on, Frank," Teddy said, shaking her head, still disappointed, as she motioned for the boy to follow.

    "Yeah," Frank murmured, nodding while glancing at me with a bit of fear as he walked with Teddy.

    "I hadn''t noticed before, but you''re kind of scary," Missy, who had been silently enjoying the spectacle, said with a wide grin as she stared at me. "So manly," she declared with a slight huff, shaking her head lightly as she walked behind my sister.

    "What about me?" Georgie asked nervously as my siblings, along with Missy and Frank, left the house.

    "What do you mean, ''What about me''?" I asked incredulously. "Go home man," I said with a sigh.

    "Great, good luck!" Georgie replied, nodding and looking oddly relieved as he practically ran after the group of kids.

    Once I had dealt with the kids, the nerves I had buried resurfaced. Pressing my hand to my forehead, I breathed steadily, trying to clear my thoughts.

    "I just need to drive her there, make sure Dr. Stratford is on duty. If he''s not, have them call him," I murmured to myself, keeping my breathing steady and calm.

    "You know, she''s right," Diane said suddenly, breaking my concentration. "I didn''t know you could raise your voice like that," she added with a strangely amused smile. "It was really manly," she said, leaning slightly with amusement sparkling in her eyes, visibly forcing herself not to smile as she bit her lip.

    Yeah, I really like her.

    "Well, you know me¡ªbeing manly is all I do," I declared jokingly with fake arrogance. "Though I don''t usually raise my voice," I assured her a little more seriously. "I think I should do it more often. It''s surprisingly liberating," I added with a wide grin.

    Seeing the small but beautiful smile on Diane''s face helped ease my nerves incredibly. Her surprisingly calm demeanor was very reassuring.

    "Diane, I¡ª" I began, staring into Diane''s wide eyes, only to be interrupted once more.

    "I got it," Bob declared, returning at that moment with a rather bulky bag, obviously packed by my mom.

    "All right, give it to me," I said, immediately taking the bag from Bob''s hands. "Go get Mom. I''ll drive," I added quickly, guiding¡ªreally, pushing¡ªthe man toward the front door.

    "Yeah, all right," Bob replied, still in shock, nodding firmly. A second later, he quickly turned on his heels, looking ready to run out of the house. "Wait!" he exclaimed, suddenly stopping in the doorway. "The kids¡ªTeddy and Gabe need to go to the Coopers''," he added nervously, searching the house as he remembered his other children.

    "I already took care of that," I assured Bob quickly, forcing his attention on me as I pushed him out the door again.

    "You did? Good," Bob said, nodding firmly at my words. Once we were outside the house, he quickly ran to the Coopers'' house, allowing me to close the door with Diane.

    With the bulky bag in one hand and the keys to Bob''s hideous van in the other, I did a quick mental check of what still needed to be done.

    "You need to move the car," Diane murmured calmly, placing one of her cold hands on my arm as I thought about stupid things, like whether the stove had somehow been left on.

    "Yeah, right," I muttered, still lost in my thoughts as I looked at her. "Let''s go," I added a few seconds later, once again losing myself in Diane''s eyes, as I naturally took her hand and jogged lightly toward the car.

    After opening the passenger door for Diane to get in and placing the bulky slightly heavy bag in the trunk, I got in the car and immediately started the engine.

    "Your mom''s outside," Diane said, pointing to the Coopers'' house. For the first time since we heard Bob''s shouting, a hint of concern crossed her face.

    Without responding to Diane, I quickly moved Bob''s van to the front of the Coopers'' house. Mom, obviously in pain, was walking with the help of Bob and Mrs. Cooper as she said goodbye to my siblings.

    "PJ, drive carefully," Mrs. Cooper said, clearly worried, as Bob carefully helped Mom into the truck. Leaning slightly toward Diane''s window, she added with a hint of condescension, "We''ll stay here and wait for your parents to arrive," gesturing at Diane. "After that, we''ll head straight to the hospital to join you."

    "Perfect, Mrs. Cooper, thank you," I replied quickly, glancing over to see Mom repeatedly wincing in pain as she got into the truck. "Don''t worry, I''ll drive carefully," I reassured her as Bob settled into the truck next to Mom.

    "Good, call us if you need anything," Mrs. Cooper said, stepping back and clasping her hands in front of her chest.

    "Will do. Thank you," I responded.

    After a quick farewell, I sped off in the direction of the hospital.

    As I drove, I kept track of the time between Mom''s contractions. Thankfully, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

    "I''m so glad you came along with PJ, Diane. That''s very kind of you," Mom said cheerfully, despite the effort it clearly took between her practiced breathing and a painful grimace.

    It was pretty surprising that, even after enduring inexplicable pain and focusing on her breathing, Mom still had the energy to play matchmaker.

    "Oh, don''t mention it, Mrs. Duncan. I just didn''t want PJ to be alone," Diane replied a bit stiffly, turning slightly to offer a somewhat forced smile.

    It was odd. Diane had been chatting comfortably with Mom and the other women in the house earlier that day. Now, she seemed nervous about speaking to her.

    "I told you not to call me Mrs. Duncan. You can call me Amy," Mom playfully reminded Diane between her breathing exercises.

    Before anyone could say anything else, another contraction hit Mom, and she groaned loudly, leaning forward slightly in pain.

    This made twelve minutes between contractions, each lasting an average of forty seconds. Given that Mom had already been through three previous pregnancies, these were good numbers. It was quite possible she was already halfway through the latent phase of labor.

    As I mentally reviewed everything I could about labor stages, timing, and potential risks, Diane''s cold hand on mine suddenly snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

    I turned briefly to look at Diane and found her giving me a small but reassuring smile.

    "Thank you," I murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed.

    "You have to be born in record time, my beautiful baby," Mom said from the backseat once her contraction had passed, stroking her belly with a pained expression. "It''s going to be a completely painless birth, so quick the doctor will want to write about how incredible it was," she added almost pleadingly.

    "How much farther, PJ?" Bob asked, flexing his hand with a pained expression, likely because of Mom''s death grip.

    "We''re almost there," I replied, accelerating slightly over the speed limit while keeping my eyes on the road.

    And it was true. Not long after, I arrived at the hospital, parking quickly before jumping out to help Bob with Mom.

    "Come on, Mom," I said, taking her free arm to help her walk alongside Bob.

    "Where''s the bag?" Mom stopped after just a few steps, wincing in pain from another contraction, and asked in a strained voice.

    "I''ll go get it," I assured her immediately.

    "I can carry it," Diane quickly volunteered, shamelessly reaching into my pants pocket to grab the truck''s key.

    "It''s heavy," I warned, holding onto Mom for support.

    "Don''t worry, I can handle it," Diane nodded confidently, assuring me with conviction.

    "You''re such a treasure, honey," Mom said, even in the midst of her contraction, digging her nails into Bob''s arm and mine simultaneously, leaving me unable to continue my warning to Diane.

    Despite Diane''s kind offer and confidence, I knew her physical limits. I was absolutely certain she couldn''t carry the bag on her own.

    Leaving Diane behind, I helped Mom into the hospital.

    "Nurse, my wife is having a baby!" Bob said with some panic, letting me take most of Mom''s weight as he approached the reception desk.

    "All right, sir, if you could register your wife with this form," the nurse responded calmly, not looking up from the documents she was working on. Her tone followed a procedure that was likely tedious, slow, and somewhat insensitive, but necessary for the hospital.

    "Marianne, it''s me," Mom said, sounding slightly exasperated as she clutched her stomach.

    "Wha¡ªoh, Amy!" The nurse, Marianne, finally looked up, surprised. "Don''t worry about that then. You can fill it out later," she added quickly, picking up the papers she had placed in front of Bob. "Let me get you a wheelchair," she said, pressing a button among many on her desk before walking over to Mom.

    "I''ll go get Diane," I said as Bob returned to help support Mom, checking my watch.

    "Yes, I need my bag," Mom said through gritted teeth, barely able to speak as another contraction hit.

    Outside the hospital, I immediately spotted Diane, clearly exhausted, sitting in the open trunk of the truck with Mom''s bag on the ground just a step away from her.

    "I can''t carry the bag," Diane admitted, pressing her lips together in slight embarrassment.

    "Really?" I exaggerated, pretending to be shocked. "Who would''ve thought?" I asked sarcastically, easily hoisting the heavy bag onto my shoulder.

    "You''re not funny," Diane said, frowning. "It didn''t seem that heavy when you carry it," she explained, frustrated, gesturing at how the bag hung comfortably on my shoulder.

    "Well, it doesn''t seem that way because I have actual muscle mass," I joked, leaning down to grab her slender arm. "We really need to bulk you up," I added, playfully squeezing her bicep.

    "Working out isn''t my thing," Diane said slowly, raising her face to look at me properly since she was sitting lower than my height. "And besides, I don''t think I''d look good with giant muscles," she added with a small smile.

    "Oh, I promise you that no matter how much you work out, you''re not going to get gigantic muscles," I assured her, amused by her reasoning. "But even if, somehow, you managed to get muscles as big as some bodybuilder..." I slowed down and lowered my voice as I locked eyes with Diane, her makeup making her eyes appear even larger. "It would be really funny," I declared after a brief moment of silence, barely holding back my laughter.

    Diane pulled her arm free and pouted, pressing her lips together in a small, adorable expression.

    Totally unfair.

    "Diane¡ª" I began, once again summoning the courage to speak, only to be interrupted for the third time that day.

    "Oh, I hope I''m not interrupting anything," came the easily recognizable, sarcastic voice of House from behind me.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I can''t believe this," I murmured incredulously, tilting my head toward the sky. "Is this some kind of bad joke?" I asked no one in particular, turning slowly to face House.

    "I really don''t care, but do you two live in the hospital parking lot now?" House asked, standing with his bag slung over one shoulder, clearly ready to leave for the day. "If so, I''m calling security. That truck is hideous, and I come out of that door every day," he said, gesturing toward the hospital''s entrance.

    "No, House," I replied, pressing my jaw in frustration over yet another interruption. "My mom is having the baby," I added, remembering why I''d come out in the first place¡ªI needed to get the bag to Bob before they went into the delivery room, where no one else would be allowed.

    "Like I said, I really don''t care," House said without missing a beat, shrugging before heading toward his car.

    "PJ, the wheelchair is here," Nurse Marianne called out, appearing at the hospital door while House got into his car. "Your mom told me she really needs her bag," she added nervously.

    "Oh, yeah," I nodded, quickly adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "Did you catch your breath?" I asked Diane, turning back to her.

    "Yup," Diane said, hopping to her feet and stepping aside to let me close the truck''s trunk.

    Inside the hospital, Mom was already seated in the wheelchair, waiting with Bob just a few steps from the reception desk.

    "Oh great, thank you, Diane," Mom said with a smile directed at Diane when I handed the bag to Bob, even though it was clearly me who carried the bag all the way.

    "It was nothing, Mrs. Duncan," Diane said with a small smile, showing no trace of embarrassment, while entirely avoiding looking at me and keeping her face expressionless.

    Chuckling lightly, I followed Bob, who was wheeling Mom down the hospital corridors toward the maternity ward.

    "You know the drill, PJ. You can''t go past this point, even if we wanted to let you," one of the maternity ward nurses, Nurse Betty, said as she took over pushing Mom''s wheelchair and pointed toward the waiting area.

    "All right, Mom, we''ll be right here," I assured her with a forced smile, nodding at the nurse.

    "Great, thank you, honey," Mom said through gritted teeth, clearly in pain. "Don''t let Teddy and Gabe stay up too late," she added quickly as she was wheeled away.

    "No, don''t worry," I quickly replied.

    As Mom, Bob, and the nurse disappeared through the doors to the private labor rooms, I stood with Diane, completely lost in my thoughts.

    It was strange how worried I felt about something that, theoretically, wasn''t all that dangerous. I knew the stats¡ªpercentages of complications in normal deliveries, the hospital''s success rates, Mom''s physical condition, and so many other factors that should have reassured me, but they didn''t.

    The more I thought about the numbers and potential complications, the faster my breathing became. My chest tightened, and I became uncomfortably aware of the sweat pooling in my palms.

    Once again, my mom was out of my reach, and I couldn''t do anything to help her.

    I knew I was having a panic attack; I recognized all the signs¡ªI remembered each and every one of them. But for some reason, I couldn''t recall what I was supposed to do to manage it.

    Focusing painfully on the sensation of my nails digging into my palms, one of my hands was suddenly wrapped in Diane''s cold ones. "Everything''s going to be okay," she said softly and calmly, with a small smile on her face to reassure me.

    "Yeah, I know," I replied, now aware of the rest of the hospital''s noise¡ªpeople talking, phones ringing, laughter, and even a baby crying somewhere in the distance. I hid what was surely a nervous expression behind a composed smile.

    "Do you want to sit down?" Diane asked, tugging lightly on my hand, which was still held securely between her own, and guiding me toward the waiting area chairs.

    "Yeah," I responded, still feeling slightly dazed, as I relaxed my hand releasing the tight fist I hadn''t realized I was making.

    "So, what''s happening in there right now?" Diane asked after we sat down, her curiosity evident as she gestured with her head toward where Mom and Bob had gone.

    "What?" I asked, startled.

    "Yes, your mom is in there. What is she doing right now? Is she already pushing?" Diane asked calmly, her tone clearly meant to help distract and soothe me, her large eyes sparkling with interest.

    "No," I replied with amusement, shaking my head slightly. "Right now, Dad and some nurses are probably helping her put on the hospital gown," I explained, thinking through the general process. "Then, a nurse or an obstetrician will come to do an obstetric triage¡ªbasically, they''ll assess the urgency to prioritize care," I continued, taking a deep breath and thinking back to the signs I''d noticed in Mom.

    "What kinds of things do they check to determine the urgency?" Diane asked, slowly rubbing her thumbs over the back of my hand.

    "Things like blood pressure, the heart rate of both the mother and the baby, the time between contractions, the duration and intensity of each contraction, and cervical dilation," I replied, mirroring her gesture and gently stroking her hand with my thumb.

    "And with all that, they decide if it''s time to start pushing?" Diane asked, releasing my hand for a second to adjust her glasses using her sweater before immediately taking my hand again.

    "Yeah, basically," I answered, nodding slowly. "If the dilation is more than four centimeters, the contractions are regular, and the baby is doing fine¡ªin other words, if all the signs are good¡ªthen they move the mother to the delivery room or the labor area. If not, she has to wait under observation."

    "Sounds like a pretty easy process," Diane said with a slight tilt of her head, smiling.

    "Theoretically it is," I snorted, "but it''s usually a slow and painful process," I added seriously, "widely accepted as one of the most extreme forms of pain outside of torture methods," I added a little sadly.

    "So not pretty easy got it" Diane muttered nervously.

    "No," I murmured amused, "although with the advances in modern medicine the process can be made more bearable, although painful and tiring, but bearable," I added, not wanting to scare Diane completely.

    After finishing my explanation, Diane and I sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until the same nurse who had escorted Mom and Bob earlier reappeared, smiling calmly.

    "How''s everything?" I quickly stood and asked, walking up to Betty.

    "Everything seems normal. Your mom and the baby have excellent numbers. I don''t think it''ll be long before the expulsion phase begins," the nurse explained with a reassuring nod.

    "Good," I murmured, nodding slowly. "Oh, who''s the obstetrician on duty?" I asked, remembering to check.

    "Don''t worry. Dr. Stratford just started his shift," the nurse quickly replied.

    "All right, thank you," I said with relief, knowing Dr. Stratford was the head of obstetrics.

    "No problem, I''ll be here if you need anything, PJ" Betty said calmly. Then, with a warm smile toward Diane, she added, "And it''s nice to finally meet you, Diane."

    "Likewise," Diane replied, a bit puzzled but maintaining her manners with a stiff nod.

    "She''s really cute," hiding her face from Diane the nurse mouthed silently with raised eyebrows, nodding in approval.

    "I know," I mouthed back with a grin, watching the nurse return to her workstation.

    "How many nurses know about me?" Diane asked curiously as we sat down again in the waiting area, her intrigue evident.

    "By now? I''d say every single one of them," I replied, nodding slowly and thinking about how terrifyingly efficient the nurses'' gossip network was.

    There were plenty of nurses I hadn''t even met yet, but it seemed like all of them already knew me¡ªand probably Diane, too.

    While we waited in the waiting area, and as time passed, nurses periodically came by under the pretense of checking for updates on Mom, only to try striking up conversations with the ''famous'' Diane.

    That was how we spent a couple of hours, with Diane and me only occasionally left alone for brief moments.

    "How many nurses work at the hospital?" Diane asked nervously during one of those rare moments when no nurse was in the waiting area with us.

    "I''d say around three hundred, but for this shift, about a hundred," I answered, shrugging slightly and watching Diane''s concerned reaction.

    "And how many do you think will ''visit'' your mom?" Diane asked slowly, clearly trying to hide her discomfort.

    "Knowing Mom¡­ all of them or almost all of them," I replied, pretending to think for a moment before giving her a sheepish smile.

    "Okay," Diane sighed deeply, as if bracing herself.

    This was exactly what I had anticipated when I got home earlier today. Diane had made surprising progress in overcoming her social discomfort over the past week, but it was clear she wasn''t ready to meet hundreds of new people in just a few hours.

    "You don''t have to stay here if you don''t want to. I can take you back to the Coopers'' so you can wait for your mom if you''re feeling uncomfortable," I said gently, squeezing Diane''s hand, which had been clasped in mine since I sat down next to her. The last thing I wanted was for Diane to feel uneasy.

    "No!" Diane quickly responded. "I want to be here," she added firmly, calming her sudden burst of emotion.

    "Okay," I murmured with amusement, noting Diane''s obvious attempt to mask her discomfort. "Tell you what, I''m going to grab some coffee. Want to join me?" I asked, knowing Diane needed a break from the nurses'' questions and trying to suppress a smile at how quickly her expression changed.

    "Yes, please," Diane responded immediately, standing up and practically pulling me along with her.

    Since Diane hadn''t had a chance to see much of the hospital during her last visit, I decided to take the long route to the hospital caf¨¦, showing her the wings we passed through. Helping Diane recharge her social energy after dealing with so many nurses was just a useful extra.

    The fact that the walk gave us a little alone time was just a pleasant bonus.

    Not long after, we arrived at the caf¨¦, where I got myself a coffee and Diane a tea.

    As we walked back to the waiting area, I watched Diane, now completely at ease, blowing softly on her hot tea. "I''ll ask this one more time: are you sure you don''t want me to take you back to the ranch?" I asked. "It''s a really short drive," I assured her.

    "Why are you asking?" Diane asked, stopping for a moment, clearly surprised. "You don''t want me to be here?" she added, her curiosity piqued but showing no sign of worry.

    "What? No, not at all," I immediately said, incredulous. "It''s just that I know you''re uncomfortable with all the nurses trying to make conversation with you," I quickly explained. "I''m really glad you''re here," I added a moment later, looking at Diane, who continued to blow softly on her tea.

    "Oh," Diane murmured, with the disposable cup covering half her face. "Is my discomfort really that obvious?" she asked a moment later, lightly biting her lip in concern.

    "I think only I notice it," I assured her, seeing the worry on Diane''s face, though it was actually quite visible at times.

    "Great, so your parents and siblings didn''t notice, right?" Diane asked with interest, pressing her lips together.

    "I don''t think so, no. Why?" I responded, fairly certain this time as I recalled how Teddy had practically kidnapped Diane at the dinner table and later in her room and Gabe, well was just Gabe.

    "I just wanted to make a good impression on your family," Diane declared with an odd formality, narrowing her eyes slightly.

    Unable to help myself, I chuckled in amusement, nearly choking on my own coffee.

    "What? Do you think I failed?" Diane asked, tilting her head, seemingly recalling every interaction she''d had with any member of my family. "I thought I was a success."

    "No, that''s not it," I quickly said, forcing the coffee down where it needed to go, trying to stop coughing. "I''m pretty sure it was a resounding success," I declared seriously, leaning in slightly.

    Mom was practically an open book with her intentions for Diane, just like Mrs. Cooper and Meemaw. They all seemed united in their idea of formalizing a relationship between Diane and me.

    Teddy seemed to have taken an unexpectedly quick liking to Diane, dressing her up and sending her to me with the excuse of wanting water. Even Missy, who I was pretty sure had a tiny crush on me, seemed to approve.

    "Really?" Diane asked, her eyes widening. "Good," she added a moment later, smiling.

    Diane''s smile, unlike many of her smiles over the past few days, was unhidden this time.

    It was beautiful.

    "I like you," I declared seriously, determined not to be interrupted a fourth time that day.

    Caught off guard by my sudden words, Diane, who had been smiling without a care in the world just a second ago, stared at me, completely speechless.

    "I''m sorry, I just had to say it," I quickly apologized, embarrassed, realizing how abrupt I had been. "Although it''s not a lie. I really do like you," I added seriously, keeping eye contact.

    "Romantically?" Diane asked after several moments of silence, her large, beautiful eyes still focused on mine.

    "Yeah," I said, chuckling at Diane''s strange question. "I''m in love with you," I admitted seriously. Once I said it the first time, it surprisingly became easier to repeat.

    Biting her lip to keep herself from smiling¡ªsomething I now easily admitted drove me crazy¡ªDiane nodded quickly.

    "What does this mean?" Diane asked with excitement in her voice.

    "Well, if you feel the same way about me, it means we can start a relationship¡­ a romantic relationship," I explained slowly, puzzled, adding the last part quickly to avoid confusion.

    "Okay, and how is this romantic relationship different from what we already have?" Diane asked, visibly suppressing her smile as she shifted on her feet.

    That was actually a very good question. "I don''t know, really, not much," I quickly replied, thinking about the past few days. "I mean, I think it''s practically the same, just with a couple of added things," I said, pressing my jaw, strangely embarrassed to explain as I took a sip of coffee.

    "Like kissing and copulating," Diane declared completely shamelessly, making me choke on my coffee for the second time during the conversation.

    "I mean, yeah," I said after coughing repeatedly. "When we''re both ready," I added, trying to avoid any weird self-imposed pressure on Diane''s part.

    "Great," Diane murmured, nodding firmly. "Then I in love with you too," she added a second later, smiling broadly once again.

    With how the conversation had gone, the start of our relationship strangely didn''t feel entirely like a sentimental victory¡ªmore like signing some sort of contract.

    "Great," I murmured, a little awkward but amused, as I watched Diane''s radiant smile.

    "Now we should kiss, right?" Diane asked, shifting on her feet.

    "Well, if you want to," I said, laughing. I knew that at least I really wanted to.

    "Oh yeah, ever since we went to see Edward Scissorhands in the theater, I''ve really wanted to do it with you," Diane declared, nodding firmly once again, completely unashamed.

    "Since then?" I asked, smiling with interest. The movie theater had been one of our first dates.

    "Well, yeah," Diane replied for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, looking slightly embarrassed. "I''m a very impressionable girl," she added, pressing her lips together.

    "Yeah, you are," I declared with amusement, taking a small step toward her.

    The sudden closeness visibly startled Diane, making her jump slightly in place.

    "We can postpone it until you''re comfortable," I assured her, amused, keeping my attention fixed on her eyes.

    Though I was maintaining a calm front with Diane, I was honestly a little anxious myself.

    "No, I want it now," Diane murmured softly but firmly, also keeping her gaze locked on mine.

    "Great, I want it now too," I declared, relieved, joking. A moment later, I leaned in as Diane stood on her tiptoes, meeting me halfway.

    Our first kiss tasted like cheap hospital coffee. Beyond that, Diane''s lips were exactly as I had imagined¡ªlike the rest of her skin, cold and incredibly soft.

    "I really like that," Diane said after a second that easily could''ve been an hour, pulling back slightly with her eyes still closed.

    "It was good," I murmured sarcastically, though I had thoroughly enjoyed it.

    "Shut up," Diane retorted, cutting me off. She stretched up to kiss me again, wrapping her arms around my neck to keep me down.

    I was quite grateful that no one interrupted us this time.

    "Diane!" a furious English woman''s voice suddenly called from the end of the hallway.

    I totally take that back.

    "Mother?" Diane asked, quickly pulling away from the kiss, surprised to see her mother at the end of the hallway.

    "What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Adler asked incredulously, visibly upset as she marched toward us.

    "PJ and I have started a romantic relationship," Diane replied to her mother''s question without an ounce of shame, as if she were talking about the weather.

    "Oh, I see," Mrs. Adler declared, exaggerating the widening of her eyes, as if she had truly needed Diane''s explanation to understand. "We''re leaving," she added, pressing her jaw tightly.

    "Mrs. Adler¡ª" I began, despite not really knowing what to say to try and calm her down, but I was interrupted.

    "Do not speak to me, boy," the blonde woman exclaimed, raising a finger, momentarily losing all composure. "I don''t want to hear a word from you," she said, relaxing slightly but still visibly agitated, in a tone that made it clear she was warning me.

    "Mom, what''s going on?" Diane asked, confused by her mother''s behavior. "I know you don''t entirely like PJ."

    I''d say that was an understatement.

    "But I like him a lot," Diane added.

    "Oh, please, darling," Mrs. Adler declared exasperatedly, shaking her head. "It''s just a stupid infatuation with a stupid boy. You have more important things to focus on," she said, casually insulting me.

    I''m not stupid.

    "My feelings aren''t stupid," Diane immediately said, visibly offended by her mother''s words. "And neither is PJ," she added a moment later.

    Thank you.

    "You can''t get distracted by this, Diane," Mrs. Adler said, forcing a smile to hide her irritation. In a tone of false calmness, she continued, "Tomorrow morning, we''re taking our flight home, and I promise you that in a couple of days, this silly infatuation will be forgotten once you dive into all the mathematics Shankland has prepared for you."

    With her words, I felt as though a heavy sack of stones had dropped into my stomach. Somehow, I had completely forgotten that Diane was only in Texas for a week.

    "I told you my feelings aren''t stupid or silly," Diane declared firmly, snapping me out of my thoughts about how complicated it would be to maintain a relationship with Diane living in Boston. Maybe I''d need to finish high school early, accept Dr. Thomas''s offer, and start medical school under his mentorship.

    "You have your entire future in mathematics ahead of you, your dream¡ª" Mrs. Adler was saying, stepping closer to her daughter with a sweet smile.

    "No," Diane resolutely interrupted her mother, taking my hand without even looking at it. "It''s your dream," Diane added, squeezing my hand surprisingly tightly, "and I''m not going to keep wasting my life on it."

    Clearly not expecting such words from her daughter, Mrs. Adler was left completely speechless for a few seconds, studying Diane''s face. Slowly, her gaze shifted to me, lingering on Diane''s and my joined hands.

    "You," she murmured, pointing at me with her nostrils flaring in rage. "This is all your fault. In one week, you''ve managed to fill my perfect Diane''s head with conformist and mediocre ideas."

    "Stop it, Mom," Diane said angrily, stepping in front of me before I could even think of something to say. "Conformist and mediocre ideas?" she asked, clearly offended. "PJ showed me the beauty of living my life the way I want, and you, of all people, have no right to insult him for that," she declared, pointing a finger at her mother in a gesture that mirrored Mrs. Adler''s earlier one.

    "Diane¡ª" Mrs. Adler began, raising her hand and once again smiling with that infuriatingly fake tranquility.

    "No, now you''re going to listen to me," Diane interrupted surprisingly firm. "I''m done living my life under your guidance. It''s over," she said, nodding emphatically slowly pressing my hand harder. "And whether you like it or not, I will live it the way I want."

    Mrs. Adler blinked, stunned by the conviction in Diane''s voice. Her false composure cracked slightly, but she quickly straightened up, regaining her calm demeanor. "You''re being foolish, Diane," she said sharply. "Living in this small town, clinging to some boy, throwing away your potential¡ªit''s beneath you. What can you possibly accomplish here?"

    "I can accomplish everything want," Diane replied surprisingly without missing a beat. "I''m pretty sure that Texas Tech would offer me anything position I ask for. I''ll continue studying mathematics, but on my terms, not yours. I''ll stay here, work hard, and build the life I want."

    "And where are you going to live, Diane?" Mrs. Adler snapped, her voice rising. "In this boy crowded small house, with the income of an exterminator and a nurse?" The woman sarcastically asked. "This is not sustainable! It''s reckless and irresponsible."

    Before Diane could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Now, wait just a minute!" With her Texas accent marked by anger, Mrs. Cooper appeared seemingly out of nowhere said. "I don''t think you have the slightest idea who you''re talking about, or how strong and capable Diane is."

    Mrs. Adler looked at the woman with thinly veiled disdain. "This is a private family matter," she said coldly. "I don''t see how this concerns you."

    "It concerns me plenty," Mrs. Cooper shot back. "Diane is like family to me, and if she wants to stay here and not go back to Boston with you, she has a place to stay¡ªwith us." She crossed her arms defiantly, as if daring Mrs. Adler to argue.

    It was quite interesting that with the little that Mrs. Cooper knew about Diane she already held her in such high regard, I was pretty sure that somehow the woman saw in Diane everything that scared her of Sheldon growing up to be.

    "With you?" Mrs. Adler repeated incredulously, as if the very idea was preposterous. "Your only gifted son is locked in because of your shortsightedness, What makes you think you can take care of her better than I can?" she asked mockingly.

    "Don''t talk about my family with that false superiority of yours," Mrs. Cooper seeming ready to fight said threateningly. "What I do with my son and what I plan to do with Diane, unlike you, is give her the space and support she needs to make her own choices. She''s old enough to decide what''s best for her life, and she doesn''t need you hovering over her every move. And just so you know, Diane''s not running away from responsibility¡ªshe''s standing up for herself."

    Mrs. Adler opened her mouth to respond, but Diane cut her off. "This isn''t up for debate, Mom," she said firmly. "I''ve already made my decision. I''m staying here" Diane resolutely declared.

    "Diane-" Once again nervous now, Mrs. Adler tried to say.

    "No" Daine interrupted her abruptly. "You only have two options rigth now mother, accept it and maintain the little contact that I am willing to have with you, or force me to go with you, wait for me to complete my petition for emancipation and lose absolutely all contact with me, forever".

    Mrs. Adler stared at her daughter, clearly at a loss for words. For a moment, the tension hung heavy in the air. Then, from the same place where Mrs. Cooper had arrived a moment ago, Hank, Diane''s stepfather, walked calmly next to his wife, taking her by the shoulders and speaking weakly in her ear.

    Staring at her daughter for a second, pain in her expression, Mrs. Adler nodded slowly as she walked with her husband to the opposite side of the hallway, toward the hospital exit.

    ...

    As I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, this chapter was quite challenging for me to write. However, near the end, the words flowed easily. It''s not one of my favorite chapters, but I''m quite satisfied with the result. I look forward to reading your comments.

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 89

    This chapter has been ready since last Sunday, but my internet was down and it only came back two days ago (Friday) since it was so close to my normal posting day I just decided to delay it two more days, sorry about that.

    Note:

    Being a large percentage of my readers'' demographic from the United States there is a high probability that someone is from California, I hope no one lost anything in the fires and if so I hope it was only material and that at least they stay in good health along with their loved ones.

    Enjoy.

    ...

    After Mrs. Adler walked out of our sight along with her husband, the hospital hallway fell into complete silence. Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined Diane raising her voice like she had, much less to speak up to her mother.

    "Whoa," I murmured, coming out of the shock I was in thanks to Diane releasing the intense grip she had on my hand. "What was that?" I asked incredulously, looking at Diane.

    "I don''t know," she replied, controlling her breathing, which was likely agitated from all the adrenaline in her system. Tilting her head slightly, she added, "But you were right," looking directly at me a second later.

    "I know," I declared with exaggerated arrogance, as if the idea of being wrong was absurd. "About what?" I asked moments later, narrowing my eyes.

    "Screaming really is liberating," Diane replied, sighing in mock exasperation and rolling her eyes.

    "Oh, that," I said, nodding emphatically as I realized what she meant. "Yeah, I know," I added, returning to my previous arrogance.

    "Shut up," Diane said, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling. She placed her hands on my chest and leaned in with obvious intentions of kissing me again.

    "Ehem!" Just inches away from another kiss, Mrs. Cooper exaggeratedly cleared her throat.

    I had completely forgotten she was there.

    "Oh, Mrs. Cooper!" Diane exclaimed, somehow also seeming to have entirely overlooked the woman''s presence. Embarrassed, she stepped away from me. Comically flushed, Diane stared at Mrs. Cooper for a couple of seconds. "Thank you so much for your words; I truly appreciate them," she added a moment later, forcing a smile with noticeable stiffness in her tone.

    I couldn''t help but let out a short snort at Diane''s painfully obvious attempt to shift focus from the awkward moment.

    "Oh, don''t mention it, sweetheart. I meant every word I said. Anytime you need it, you have a roof over your head in my home," Mrs. Cooper assured her with a calm smile.

    "Thank you," Diane replied with a small smile.

    "Come on, honey, let''s go sit in the waiting room," Mrs. Cooper said, stepping between Diane and me as if erecting some kind of imaginary religious barrier. Gently taking Diane''s arm, she began walking back down the hallway.

    Watching Diane walk alongside Mrs. Cooper, I couldn''t help but snort with amusement as Diane glanced back at me with an expression of clear disappointment.

    I wasn''t sure if the Coopers "adopting" Diane under their roof would be an advantage or a disadvantage for me in the long run.

    When we returned to the waiting room at the end of the hallway, the rest of the Cooper family, including Meemaw, as well as my siblings, were seated in the chairs.

    Even the nurses from the maternity wing seemed to carry an odd aura of discomfort, as they obviously avoided looking in our general direction. It was painfully clear they had overheard the entire argument between Diane and her mother.

    The only ones who didn''t seem interested were Gabe and¡ª"Were you arguing with your mother?" Sheldon, entirely calm and oblivious to basic social cues in moments like this, asked Diane curiously, unaware of the incredulous stares from the others present.

    "Yes, we were arguing," Diane replied just as nonchalantly, immediately drawing everyone''s attention.

    "Oh, I see," Sheldon said, nodding slowly before returning his attention to the apparent nothingness in front of him.

    Sheldon clearly looked uncomfortable sitting in a hospital waiting room. Despite having his own chair, the only contact he had with it was the seat under his bottom. He kept his arms completely rigid in front of his body, consciously avoiding touching anything.

    "Why were you arguing? Did she kick you out? Are you homeless? Are you pregnant?" Missy, emboldened by the lack of scolding over her brother''s question, quickly fired off one inquiry after another, her grin widening with each one.

    "Missy Cooper," Mrs. Cooper exclaimed incredulously, frowning at her daughter in frustration.

    "We were arguing about my autonomy to make choices in my own life. No, I decided to leave. I''m not, thanks to your mom, and no, PJ and I haven''t¡ª" Diane easily began answering each of the girl''s questions before Missy could even think of defending herself.

    "Okay!" I exclaimed abruptly, cutting off whatever else Diane might have been about to say in front of everyone. My slight nervousness elicited a laugh from Meemaw, which was quickly silenced by a stern look from Mrs. Cooper.

    I found it odd how selective Diane was about what she found embarrassing and what she didn''t. Just moments ago, she had frozen like a deer in headlights over what had happened in front of Mrs. Cooper, and now she was about to answer a question about sex from a ten-year-old without even blinking.

    "Sweetheart, you don''t have to answer anyone''s questions if you don''t want to," Mrs. Cooper said, raising an eyebrow significantly as she looked at Diane. At the same time, she shot annoyed glances at her daughter, who seemed entirely unaware of what the issue was.

    Judging by Diane''s reaction to Mrs. Cooper''s words, I was pretty sure she didn''t care.

    "I know," Diane assured the woman with a serious nod. Mrs. Cooper patted her arm gently before walking to an empty seat beside her husband, where they began talking in low voices, likely discussing their sudden decision to welcome Diane into their home.

    Following Mrs. Cooper''s example, Diane and I took seats in the empty chairs next to Gabe, who remained uninterested in everything that had occurred in the hallway just minutes earlier.

    Sitting beside me and using the same armrest, Diane naturally took my hand, immediately beginning to trace tiny circles on its side with her thumb.

    As the wait continued and the hours passed, everyone focused on their own way of passing the time. Meemaw and Mr. Cooper started reading every magazine available in the waiting room, Mrs. Cooper began knitting some garment with yarn she had produced from somewhere, and I, once again, became a human pillow.

    Gabe, using one of my legs as a pillow, slept peacefully, while Diane, obviously tired of the rigid seats, leaned comfortably against me as she chatted quietly with Teddy and Missy, who had moved their seats to the row of chairs in front of us.

    In the quiet of the waiting room, it wasn''t long before all the kids, including Sheldon, fell completely asleep, losing their battle against exhaustion.

    "I never imagined waiting in a hospital waiting room could feel so warm," Diane murmured quietly, still resting on my shoulder and trying not to wake Gabe, who was still peacefully asleep.

    Softly pressing Diane''s thumb between my fingers, I simply nodded.

    Since it was later in the day, the shift change for many nurses had filled the remaining seats in the waiting room with quiet people, all there for the same reason, concern for mom.

    Amid my warm thoughts, the door that Mom and Bob had passed through suddenly burst open.

    "The baby is here!" Bob, his eyes slightly swollen from what was obviously crying, announced with a broad smile. Noticing the kids were asleep, he declared it softly enough, causing everyone who was awake, including the dozen nurses waiting with us, to celebrate joyfully.

    "What''s happening?" Gabe asked groggily, startled awake but keeping his head on my leg.

    "The baby was born," I replied with a cheerful smile to my brother.

    "Already?" Gabe asked, puzzled as he sat up. "That was pretty quick," he declared, rubbing his visibly sleepy eyes.

    "Tell that to my leg," I muttered irritably, stretching my numb limb. "And don''t you dare say that to Mom," I added seriously, not wanting the family number to even out just hours after gaining a new member.

    "Can we go see Mom?" Teddy asked, having woken up from the nurses'' celebrations and rubbing his stiff neck.

    "Yeah, come on," Bob said with a cheerful nod.

    Ignoring the annoying sensation of static in my leg, Diane and I followed Bob and my siblings through the doors and down the hallway. Behind us, the rest of the group followed, with the nurses somehow having procured balloons and teddy bears.

    After walking for a few seconds, we entered a room where Mom, obviously exhausted, was lying in bed, holding a small bundle wrapped in hospital blankets.

    "Mom," Teddy and Gabe said immediately, moving closer to the bed.

    "Shh," Mom silenced them immediately by raising a finger. "She''s asleep," she reminded them softly, moving the blanket slightly to show the baby''s face to my two siblings.

    I had a new sister, and for some reason, the realization that my family was growing instead of shrinking for the first time gave me a lot of emotions, beautiful ones.

    Diane, who was by my side, seemed puzzled as I had frozen for a few seconds. She gently placed her cold hand on my forearm. "Are you okay PJ?" she softly whispered, worried.

    "Yeah, yes, I''m fine," I quickly replied, wiping my eyes and nodding repeatedly. "Come on, let''s meet the baby," I said with a nervous chuckle, walking the rest of the way while holding Diane''s hand.

    "She''s so small," I heard Gabe murmur in amazement when we reached Mom''s bed.

    "Yeah, that''s what happens with newborns," I teased, ruffling his hair. "Hey, Mom, how are you?" I asked, smiling at her.

    "Right now, I''m just grateful that your sister is ''so small,''" Mom replied with a significant look at Gabe, jokingly.

    Mental image I didn''t need, thanks.

    "Move out, let me see her," I said, deciding not to continue the conversation or dwell on the mental images. Gently nudging Gabe and Teddy aside, I ignored their soft murmurs of protest.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Leaning over Mom''s bed, I saw her for the first time. I''d seen plenty of babies in my life, but seeing my little sister peacefully sleeping, swaddled in hospital blankets in my mother''s visibly tired arms yet still so tender, I knew I''d never looked at a baby like this before.

    "Charlie, meet your older brother, PJ," Mom softly said, introducing me even though baby Charlie was sound asleep.

    "Hello, Charlie," I murmured tenderly, lightly touching her cheek. "She''s definitely the prettiest Duncan... after me, of course," I added arrogantly a moment later, hearing murmurs of disagreement from Teddy behind me.

    "Do you want to hold her?" Mom asked with a faint smile, despite looking completely drained.

    "Sure," I answered, quickly swallowing a nervous lump in my throat.

    "You''ll need both hands," Mom reminded me, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile after hearing my answer.

    "I know," I replied, fully understanding her implication. Judging by Diane''s embarrassed reaction, she probably did too. I let go of Diane''s hand, trying to appear calm and definitely not flustered.

    Mom smiled triumphantly despite my mask of indifference. Slowly, she shifted to hand me the baby. "Support her head," she reminded me.

    Even though I knew perfectly well how to hold a baby, I carefully measured every movement. "Hello, Charlie," I whispered again, rocking her gently in my arms. "As Mom said, I''m PJ, your older brother¡ªthe funniest, most handsome, intelligent, strongest, and all-around coolest of all your siblings," I continued, smiling arrogantly at Gabe and Teddy beside me. "This is Diane. She''s someone very important to me," I added, showing the baby to Diane, who was visibly curious about seeing her.

    "Am I supposed to talk to the sleeping baby?" Diane whispered, glancing at me.

    "If you want to," I murmured back, amused.

    Rigidly nodding, Diane hesitated for a moment before saying, "Hello, Charlie. My name is Diane Adler. I''m from Boston, I have a master''s degree in mathematics from MIT, and I''m in a romantic relationship with your older brother, PJ," she said formally, as though this were some kind of strange job interview, staring intently at the sleeping baby.

    "Okay," I muttered, suppressing laughter as I turned back to Mom to hand the baby back. "Oh," I murmured in surprise at Mom''s wide, unnatural smile.

    "Romantic relationship?" she mouthed silently, clearly thrilled, seeming to forget all about her exhaustion.

    I nodded without offering any further explanation and took a step back.

    "Honey, do you want more visitors? Everyone''s waiting outside," Bob asked, noticing we were done with introductions.

    "Oh, yeah," Mom replied tenderly, nodding. "Wait," she said, raising her hand as Bob immediately headed for the door. "Teddy, sweetheart, how do I look?" she asked, always vain, adjusting her hair.

    "Great, Mom," Teddy responded quickly, helping her fix a few stray hairs.

    "Perfect. Go ahead," Mom said, nodding at Bob and practically ordering him to proceed, as she adjusted herself and the baby to receive visitors in what she now treated as her hotel suite.

    It was clear Mom was exhausted, which only made her concern for her appearance all the more impressive.

    Shaking my head with amusement, I led my siblings and Diane to one of the couches in the room, bracing myself for what was about to happen.

    In silence¡ªsince Charlie was still sleeping¡ªthe Coopers and the nurses entered the room. Mr. Cooper, after congratulating Mom, immediately stepped aside standing next to Bob to make room for the hordes of older women eager to see the baby.

    "I''m so sorry for you. Now you have two sisters," Georgie, who had arrived with Sheldon who, by the way, had somehow acquired a mask and gloves, joked as he joined us on the couch. His words instantly earned puzzled looks from Diane and Teddy.

    "Why?" I asked, incredulous at his words, which were so easily open to misinterpretation.

    "Now you have to worry about guys approaching two of your sisters instead of just one," Georgie explained with a mischievous smile. "I only have Missy," he added, pointing to his sister, who somehow always managed to be next to whoever was currently holding the baby.

    Whether knowingly or not, Georgie shifted the offended looks from Teddy and Diane, causing them both to slowly nod as they returned their attention to the nurses quietly arguing over whose turn it was to hold the baby.

    As for me, I could only remain silent. It was one of those rare moments¡ªso rare I could probably count them on my hands¡ªwhen Georgie was right.

    Glancing sideways at Teddy and Charlie, now in another nurse''s arms, I could only lower my head slowly, trying with all my might to avoid thinking about a future where they wanted to date someone.

    A few minutes later, "Okay, that''s enough," Nurse Florence, the head nurse at the hospital, said, stopping the baby from being passed into yet another nurse''s arms. "Amy is exhausted, and there are way more people here than there should be," she added with a frown.

    With some effort and persuasion from Nurse Florence, the nurses gradually said their goodbyes, leaving the room with only the Coopers and us.

    "It''s time for us to go too," Mrs. Cooper said, checking her watch and smiling at Mom and Bob.

    "Thank you for bringing the kids," Mom said softly, barely able to keep her eyes open.

    "Oh, Amy, it was nothing," Mrs. Cooper quickly replied as Bob and Mr. Cooper exchanged handshakes. "We know you would''ve done the same."

    "PJ, take your siblings home," Bob calmly instructed me, nodding toward a sleepy Gabe.

    "Sure," I replied easily. "I''ll be back early tomorrow to bring them home."

    "Yeah, and bring the baby seat too. We forgot it when we came here," Bob whispered to me, making sure Mom wasn''t looking.

    "Don''t worry," I assured him quickly, nodding.

    After we all said goodbye to Mom, we finally left the hospital hours after we''d arrived, splitting into cars once more. This time, I drove my siblings.

    Aside from some minor discomfort in my rear from all the hours of sitting, the trip home was uneventful.

    Teddy and Gabe, already tired, quickly fell asleep in the back seat with the help of soft music. Meanwhile, Diane, apparently taking a liking to massaging my fingers, held my free hand gently with her still surprisingly cold hands.

    I was pretty happy.

    Later, once we arrived home and I parked Bob''s truck, I noticed Diane suddenly tensed, still holding my hand. She frowned as she looked toward the Coopers'' house, prompting me to follow her gaze.

    In front of the Coopers'' house, Hank, Diane''s stepfather, stood with two suitcases, talking to Mr. and Mrs. Cooper. He wore a polite, small smile, despite the cold stare Mrs. Cooper was giving him.

    After shaking hands with Mr. Cooper and saying goodbye to Mrs. Cooper while maintaining his polite smile, the man locked eyes with Diane, walking slowly toward Bob''s truck, leaving the suitcases he had with him behind.

    "It looks like he wants to talk to you," I murmured, offering a reassuring squeeze, with no intention of pressuring Diane into doing something she didn''t want to do.

    "Yeah," Diane replied after a few seconds of silence. Moments later, with her free hand, she slowly opened the car door, nodding with determination as she let go of my hand.

    Carefully observing the body language of both Diane and Mr. Summers with all my ability, I waited in case Diane needed any kind of support but, from what I got to know about Mr. Summers it likely wouldn''t be necessary.

    After a few moments, with a small, sad smile, Mr. Summers slowly nodded and hugged Diane, clearly saying goodbye.

    As he pulled away from his stepdaughter, the man looked directly at me for a second, completely losing any trace of a smile on his face, gave me a brief nod, which I returned and turning on his heel, he walked to his car.

    "Everything okay?" stepping out of Bob''s truck, I asked softly, slightly worried about how Diane might be processing the interaction with her stepfather.

    "Yeah, he just wanted to let me know he''d send the rest of my things next week," Diane said after a small sigh, watching Mr. Summers get into his car.

    Diane deciding to stay in Texas had been an incredibly pleasant surprise for me, especially considering the timing of our relationship. Therefore, the fact that Diane had been so reluctant to separate from the "good" part of her family, admittedly gave me a little fear about the idea of losing her.

    "I can always take you to Boston if you miss your family¡ªyou just have to say the word," I said resolutely, swallowing the small lump that had formed in my throat.

    Even if the idea didn''t thrill me, if Diane wanted to go back to her family, I would accept it. Not happily, but I would.

    Hearing my words, Diane immediately looked at me with an odd, amused expression. "If I wanted to see my family, I wouldn''t have to go to Boston. They''re moving to Houston. Hank has some properties there," Diane declared casually, as if she were talking about the weather.

    Some properties? Rich people really had it easy.

    "Wha¡ª" Diane''s casual dismissal of my concern left me momentarily speechless... though only for a second. "And you didn''t think it was a good idea to tell me that?" I asked incredulously, huffing in disbelief.

    "Well, Hank promised me that he convinced my mom to avoid interfering in my life decisions in exchange for me visiting them every once in a while," Diane quickly explained, frowning slightly. "So basically, I''ll never see them unless I decide to visit."

    "Ok," I muttered slowly, still incredulous about the whole situation, nodding.

    "Diane," before Diane could say anything else, Mrs. Cooper said gently as she approached us "You were going to stay in Georige''s room, but... it''s not presentable right now" Mrs Cooper slightly embarrassed stated.

    I knew Georgie''s room, to say it wasn''t presentable was basically to say it was completely untidy.

    "So my mother was very kind to offer a room in her house for as long as you need" Clearing her throat and hiding her embarrassment in her eldest son''s room, Mrs. Cooper quickly added.

    "Come on, genius girl, I''ve got a room with your name on it," Meemaw said, motioning for Diane to follow her with one of Diane''s suitcases in hand. "You can say goodbye to Aces once you''ve settled in," the older woman continued as she walked slowly toward her house.

    Hearing Meemaw''s words, Diane turned to me hopefully. "Can we talk in a few minutes?" Diane asked, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

    "Sure, I''ll see you on Meemaw''s porch," I replied calmly with a smile. I had to get my siblings to their rooms first.

    Carrying Gabe to our room was easy; he was light and stayed asleep the entire time, making the task simple. Teddy, though slightly heavier, wasn''t a problem either. I adjusted her weight in my arms a couple of times, but I managed to get her to her room without waking her up.

    Once I was sure they were both settled, I left the house quietly and made my way to Meemaw''s. Reaching her porch, I took a seat on one of the old wooden chairs out front, leaning back slightly as I waited for Diane.

    Diane having to unpack her belongings obviously didn''t appear immediately. Minutes passed, the cold night air settling in, until finally, the front door of Meemaw''s house creaked open. Diane stepped out, visibly hugging herself against the chill as she walked toward me.

    "You okay?" I asked, breaking the silence once she sitting next to me.

    "Yeah," she replied softly, as he slowly leaned against my side. "Mrs. Tucker''s house is... interesting."

    "Interesting how?" I teased lightly, trying to warm up Diane, who was visibly still cold, with a side hug.

    "I never met my grandparents, and I never really cared" Diane weakly admitted, "but when I saw Mrs. Tucker''s house, filled with a feeling of totally warm welcome and with photographs of all her children and grandchildren at every moment of their lives scattered on every wall of the house" Diane described, "I think I would have loved to have similar grandparents" looking half amused and half uncertain she added.

    "Sounds cozy," I said, smiling.

    Diane smiled faintly, her gaze drifting toward the porch railing. "yeah it''s nice. A little overwhelming, but definitely nice."

    I nodded, laughing softly before deciding to ask, "was everything okay before?"

    "Uh when?" moving away slightly from me frowning in surprise, Diane asked.

    "Before you left with Meemaw, you seemed slightly nervous about something, is everything okay?" I seriously asked.

    "Oh..." Obviously being able to remember what I was referring to, Diane hesitated, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she glanced down at her hands. "Yes, everything was fine," she admitted. "It''s just... I didn''t know how to say goodbye to you in front of Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Tucker."

    I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

    "Yeah, not the way i wanted at least," she murmured, looking slightly embarrassed, "It''s stupid" staring at me she added.

    Oh.

    "It''s not stupid," immediately I assured her, gently pressing my embrace. "It is certainly somewhat embarrassing to show affection in public without any consideration, but it is totally normal" I said hiding my own ignorance about it and simply speaking of my own feelings, "I''m sure that with the passage of time that awkwardness will disappear... And if it doesn''t, maybe it''s not all that bad to have it just for the two of us" Moving my eyebrows exaggeratedly I added.

    Diane pressed her lips together in an obvious attempt not to smile, luckily for me, she failed.

    Diane''s smile, combined with the quiet stillness of the empty street and the warmth of Meemaw''s softly lit porch, only heightened the intimacy of the moment. The closeness of Diane in my arms made everything else fade away, and before I could think of anything else to say, my body moved on its own to meet Diane''s soft lips. In silence Diane and I let ourselves be carried away by the moment until¡ª

    "Oops, wrong door!" Meemaw''s voice called loudly from the main door, startling both of us. Diane pulled back quickly, her cheeks flaming, while I turned to see Meemaw "I was looking for my glasses," she said, holding them up as if to prove her point, though the twinkle in her and the mischievous smile told me she knew exactly what she was doing.

    "Of course, your glasses" I said sarcastically, clearing my throat and leaning back in my seat.

    "Don''t mind me," Meemaw added as she started back inside, pausing just long enough to say, "And Aces, you''d better behave, or you might end up living every teenager''s nightmare, bear your girlfriend''s grandma instead of just her parents."

    "Noted," I replied dryly, though I couldn''t keep the smile off my face as Diane buried hers in her hands.

    Once Meemaw was gone, Diane peeked up at me, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "You''re right, I think that for now the displays of affection will only be in total privacy."

    "Sure thing," I said, grinning.

    It took a couple more minutes before Diane finally rested her head against my shoulder once more, but after that we sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, the chill in the air forgotten, and the night seemed just a little warmer.

    ...

    This may come as a shock to many people, but I have never been in a hospital waiting room for someone to be born, much less a birth room (besides my own obviously), I wasn''t even there when my little sister was born, one day I just woke up at home with one of my aunts cooking breakfast, a couple of hours later my mother arrived home with a baby.

    By the way, I''m sure someone might find the idea of ??continuing with the romantic development aspect of the novel tedious, if so I''m sorry but as I explained before this will be the case for several of the chapters so please just bear with me, I''m cooking.

    ...

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 90

    A little later than usual (sorry), but here¡¯s the new chapter.

    This week, I went back to school (help!), and my schedule is a mess (thank you for that, Mexican education system). Now I can¡¯t go to work after classes because my entire day is basically taken up by school. But that¡¯s not the important part¡ªthe truly important thing is that I now have less time to write each day, but I¡¯ll keep writing anyway.

    Enjoy.

    ...

    The next day, early in the morning, after preparing a fairly simple breakfast for my siblings and myself, I headed to the hospital, leaving behind Teddy and Gabe, who only agreed not to come for Mom after I explained to them that I was simply going to pick up our parents and drive back.

    At the hospital, after calling Mom''s room before leaving the house, she and Bob were already waiting for me at the reception area. For obvious reasons, Mom was in a wheelchair, holding a bundle of blankets that was surely my new sister, Charlie.

    ¡°So¡­¡± After helping Bob get Mom into the car and letting him drive while I relaxed in the passenger seat, Mom, from the back seat, tending to a sleeping Charlie in her baby seat, suddenly spoke.

    I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. In fact, I¡¯d spent the whole night preparing for it.

    ¡°If I remember correctly, Diane said, ¡®a romantic relationship¡¯?¡± Mom asked. Even though I couldn¡¯t see her face, just from the tone of her voice, I was pretty sure she was wearing a wide and triumphant smile.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied, defeated, lowering my head slightly. ¡°It was pretty sudden, not very special,¡± I admitted, hoping that somehow Mom wouldn¡¯t be too interested.

    ¡°Oh, you know that won¡¯t work,¡± Mom said insistently, but still keeping her voice low so as not to wake Charlie.

    Yeah I knew.

    Looking to Bob for help, I noticed how the man was visibly trying to keep his attention on the road, avoiding looking at me at all costs.

    With a heavy sigh, I nodded before briefly recounting what had happened. I knew that even if I didn¡¯t tell her what had transpired between Diane and her mother, Mrs. Cooper would immediately fill her in. ¡°And that¡¯s why Diane is staying at Meemaw¡¯s house for a while,¡± I said as I finished the story.

    ¡°I¡¯m really glad she spoke up to her mother. From what Mary told me, that woman was quite the handful,¡± Mom said seriously. ¡°And I¡¯m really glad you two are now together. For days, I¡¯ve noticed how obviously smitten you were, and having met Diane, I understand why,¡± she added with amusement.

    ¡°Obviously?¡± For some strange reason, feeling offended, I turned in my seat and asked.

    ¡°Oh, honey,¡± Mom declared, shaking her head and laughing softly.

    ¡°Pretty obvious,¡± Bob, who had remained silent for most of the drive, said with a snort.

    Oh, now you talk.

    I¡¯d only known for a couple of days that my feelings for Diane were, but I was pretty sure I wasn¡¯t entirely obvious about it, right?.

    The rest of the ride home was quiet and peaceful¡ªtwo things that, in the coming nights, would become nonexistent at home.

    Upon returning, after helping Bob escort a still-weakened Mom to her room, I headed back outside to visit Diane.

    ¡°Yeah?,¡± after a couple of minutes of knocking and waiting at Meemaw¡¯s door, she said upon opening it. ¡°Oh, hello, young man. What do you need?¡± she asked, smiling mischievously in an odd attempt at a joke, pretending not to know me.

    ¡°Good morning, ma¡¯am. I was wondering if Diane is home,¡± I said, deciding immediately to play along.

    Nodding slowly, Meemaw stepped back. ¡°Diane, there¡¯s a boy here for you!¡± she yelled into the house.

    Surprisingly, staying in character as we waited for Diane to arrive, Meemaw studied me intently with a serious expression. ¡°What are your intentions with my granddaughter?¡± she asked, crossing her arms and staring at me.

    ¡°The best, of course,¡± I quickly replied, matching her seriousness. ¡°What you should really worry about is Diane¡¯s intentions with me,¡± I added moments later, leaning slightly with a false look of concern on my face.

    ¡°Oh, you were doing so well, Aces,¡± Meemaw said with a laugh, shaking her head. ¡°If my husband, Pop-pop, had heard that last part, you¡¯d be running back home with a shotgun pointed at you,¡± she added casually, as if threatening someone with a shotgun was entirely normal.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad he didn¡¯t hear me then,¡± I said slowly, doubting whether my response was appropriate when talking about someone deceased.

    ¡°Yeah, pretty hard to hear anything six feet under,¡± Meemaw said nonchalantly, nodding.

    ¡°PJ,¡± Diane called, saving me from adding anything else awkward to the conversation, already dressed in one of her sweaters, she greeted me with a small smile as she walked to the door.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I said quickly, relieved by Diane¡¯s presence.

    ¡°Thanks, Mrs. Tucker,¡± Diane said, smiling at Meemaw as she stepped out of the house.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, sweetheart,¡± Meemaw replied, returning Diane¡¯s smile. But as soon as Diane wasn¡¯t looking, Meemaw shifted her expression entirely, fixing me with a serious look while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then at me in an obviously intimidating gesture.

    Well, at least she was taking her role as Diane¡¯s guardian seriously.

    ¡°See you later, kiddo,¡± Meemaw added, impressively recovering her warm smile as she closed the door behind Diane.

    ¡°So, how are you settling in on your first night?¡± I asked, walking with Diane to the small bench on Meemaw¡¯s porch, forgetting the odd discomfort caused by Meemaw¡¯s earlier behavior.

    ¡°Pretty well,¡± Diane answered immediately, nodding slowly. ¡°The bed Mrs. Tucker prepared for me is very comfortable and warm,¡± she added, as though trying to think of more things to say. ¡°Oh, and we had bacon, eggs, and waffles for breakfast,¡± she added, comically widening her eyes.

    ¡°Sounds like your stay is acceptable, then,¡± I joked, finding Diane¡¯s review amusing, as if she were critiquing a hotel.

    ¡°Yeah, it definitely is,¡± Diane replied calmly, nodding. ¡°Oh, also, Mrs. Cooper came by to invite me to church,¡± she commented, strangely amused, as if it were an afterthought.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± I asked, not really surprised. ¡°What did you say to her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not religious,¡± Diane responded as though it were obvious, shrugging. ¡°I explained that to her and declined the offer, thanking her for the invitation,¡± she added calmly.

    ¡°And how did she take your refusal?¡± I asked, genuinely curious.

    ¡°Judging by her reaction, I doubt it was the answer she was expecting,¡± Diane replied, tilting her head slightly, seeming unsure.

    Yeah, I can imagine Mrs. Cooper expecting a different response.

    ¡°But, surprisingly, she didn¡¯t push the issue. She just said she¡¯d do what she does with Sheldon and pray for my soul,¡± Diane added, pressing her lips together, seemingly impressed.

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± I murmured, nodding slowly, relieved that Mrs. Cooper didn¡¯t try to force Diane to follow her religious practices.

    ¡°And what about you?¡± Diane asked, her head still tilted slightly, staring at me. ¡°How¡¯s your day been so far?¡±

    ¡°Pretty good, thank you,¡± I replied easily, amused by Diane¡¯s obvious attempt to keep the conversation going. ¡°I made a quick breakfast for me, Teddy, and Gabe, then went to pick up my parents and Charlie from the hospital. I actually just got back a few minutes ago,¡± I narrated casually, checking my watch. ¡°I thought I¡¯d come here.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, why?¡± Diane asked, confused.

    ¡°Well, since the experiment week technically ends today¡ª¡± I began to explain, amused by her question.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± Diane interrupted, seemingly remembering the experiment I¡¯d proposed just the previous week. ¡°The experiment was definitely a success. You were right about it,¡± she added formally.

    ¡°Well, thanks,¡± I said, nodding and mirroring her formality. ¡°So I thought, since the experiment is over and you and I have started a romantic relationship, it would only make sense to invite you on an official date,¡± I declared, keeping my words formal, recalling all the times others had told me what I¡¯d done with Diane were obviously dates.

    ¡°I see what you mean,¡± Diane said, pressing her lips together with a smile. ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to go on an official date with you,¡± she added with a slight nod.

    ¡°Great,¡± I declared with exaggerated relief. ¡°For a moment, I thought you¡¯d say no,¡± I admitted, exhaling dramatically.

    Rolling her eyes in exasperation but still smiling widely, Diane shook her head without saying a word.

    That day, I took Diane to eat at Red Lobster¡ªwhich, according to Missy, was the fanciest restaurant in Medford¡ªto the movies, and for a short walk in the park that ended in a chaste and brief make-out session in my car before heading home.

    After saying goodbye to Diane once more at Meemaw¡¯s doorstep, I returned home, barely able to contain the joy I felt. Nothing could ruin my mood at that moment.

    Upon entering the house, the fact of having a baby sister became immediately noticeable with all the noise inside.

    The baby¡¯s crying, music blasting from Teddy¡¯s room, the television Gabe was watching competing with both the crying and the music, also at full volume. Suddenly, Bob walked past me from my parents¡¯ room, holding a small blanket dripping with some sort of substance, but, despite all this, I was still quite cheerful, believing the noise would only be temporary.

    And it was¡ªat least the TV and Teddy¡¯s music. However, as days passed, every night became filled with my younger sister¡¯s crying. Somehow, only Gabe and Teddy seemed to have full nights of sleep, leaving my parents and me as the only ones affected.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Deciding not to visit the hospital that week, I accompanied Diane every day after school to help her adjust to her new life routine. In hindsight, I realized this wasn¡¯t entirely necessary. Apparently, while I was at school, Diane spent her days with Mom, Mrs. Cooper, and Meemaw, when she didn¡¯t have other plans, simply chatting or accompanying them in their daily activities.

    Meanwhile, when I got home from school, we continued our routine from the previous week. Some days we visited the mall, enjoying new music records that I obviously bought, adding to my collection, Diane bought more sweaters, we drank chocolate milkshakes, and strolled through the park until Diane grew tired, at which point we sat on a bench and enjoyed each other¡¯s company.

    In addition, we watched at least two movies every night, ones we rented from the store next to the gym and watched in Meemaw¡¯s living room. Most of the time, the elderly woman would remind us of her presence in the house as often as she could.

    Despite that, whenever we had the chance for privacy away from the public eye, Diane and I slowly progressed in our relationship¡ªas much as one week would allow.

    On Saturday, after completing my morning routine and getting ready to spend another day with Diane, I arrived at Meemaw¡¯s house. To my surprise, Diane was already sitting on the small porch bench, completely engrossed in some kind of document in her hands.

    Quietly, I approached her. ¡°Good morning,¡± I declared, trying to hide my smile after successfully surprising her, as I took a seat beside her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± Diane said, softly hitting my arm, feigning irritation. ¡°Good morning to you too,¡± she added a moment later, pouting slightly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll definitely do that again at some point,¡± I said playfully, smiling. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked, pointing at the papers in her hands with interest.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s the paperwork from East Texas Tech. Apparently, they¡¯ve finally sorted things out with my mom,¡± she replied nonchalantly, handing me the stack of papers.

    ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± I declared, genuinely happy for her as I took the papers from her hands.

    Diane had contacted the university president earlier that week. Likely, the president wanted to avoid Diane reconsidering her choice of university and had quickly reached out to Mrs. Adler.

    It was obvious the unpleasant woman had tried to delay Diane¡¯s plans as much as possible by withholding the necessary documents for her immediate acceptance. Thankfully, it seemed Mr. Summers had managed to convince her otherwise.

    ¡°I have to go on Monday to discuss my obligations and privileges,¡± Diane murmured softly, leaning against my shoulder.

    Given the early hour and Diane¡¯s strange ability to feel cold no matter where she was, it was obvious she was chilly at that moment.

    ¡°What time do you have to go?¡± I asked, interested. ¡°If you need, I can leave school early¡ªit¡¯s not a big deal,¡± I added, already brainstorming ways to convince the principal to let me leave.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. The university will send a driver for me,¡± Diane said, attempting to bury herself against my side, likely seeking warmth. ¡°And after that, they¡¯ll give me a car to drive myself,¡± she added nonchalantly, her eyes closed.

    ¡°Wait a moment¡ªyou know how to drive?¡± I asked, surprised. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ever mention that?¡± I added, lifting my arm so I could look her directly in the eyes.

    ¡°It just never came up,¡± Diane shrugged indifferently. ¡°Besides, I enjoy it more when you drive,¡± she added, pressing her lips together in a faintly dismissive gesture.

    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡± I asked, feigning offense. ¡°Well, today you¡¯re driving,¡± I added a moment later.

    I didn¡¯t actually mind driving all the time¡ªI¡¯d realized a while ago that it was quite cathartic for me. I just wanted to make sure Diane really did know how to drive.

    ¡°All right,¡± Diane murmured, nodding slightly. After studying my face in silence for a moment, she asked with genuine curiosity, ¡°Did it really bother you that I never told you I could drive?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± I murmured, chuckling softly as I pulled her closer into a hug.

    The weekend passed, and Monday arrived. After my usual morning routine, I arrived at school to find Kat standing in front of my locker. She looked obviously upset, arms crossed, while Georgie stood awkwardly beside her, looking guilty and avoiding my gaze.

    ¡°Well, Georgie lasted longer than I thought,¡± I murmured as I walked toward my inevitable fate.

    I may have lightly threatened Georgie at the start of last week to keep Diane¡¯s situation a secret. I didn¡¯t mind if Kat and the rest of my friends knew, but I figured if David found out, the rest of the school wouldn¡¯t be far behind.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should¡¯ve told you,¡± I admitted to Kat, lifting my hands slightly as I reached my locker, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

    ¡°Yeah, you should have,¡± Kat said, pausing briefly in surprise¡ªlikely because I hadn¡¯t given her a chance to say whatever she¡¯d been rehearsing¡ªbefore returning to her annoyed demeanor.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just that the more people knew, the more likely it was the whole school would find out,¡± I explained, though even as I said it, I realized how silly my reasoning was. ¡°It¡¯s not that I didn¡¯t trust you. On the contrary¡ª¡± I quickly tried to clarify.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that,¡± Kat interrupted, frowning, but I could still see a flicker of hurt in her eyes. ¡°You had Diane spending a whole week with just a couple of older women¡ªno offense,¡± she added, apologizing to Georgie, who raised his hands and lowered his head in an attempt to disappear. ¡°And with you. She needs friends.¡±

    Blinded by my own happiness, I hadn¡¯t noticed, but Kat was certainly right. In a way, I was mirroring Mrs. Adler¡¯s behavior by not giving Diane a chance to make friends her own age.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right,¡± I murmured, nodding slowly.

    ¡°Of course I am,¡± Kat said with an air of self-evidence. ¡°You¡¯re really so dumb,¡± she added, shaking her head in annoyance as she walked away. ¡°Mandela and I are going to visit Diane today. Don¡¯t be there.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I murmured, feeling strangely nervous as I watched Kat walk off.

    Turning slowly to Georgie, I stared at him expressionlessly.

    Georgie, now left without the protection of another person to distract me, avoided eye contact uncomfortably.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. She asked how you were doing after Diane left for Boston, and before I knew it, I told her everything that happened at the hospital and that Diane is now living with Meemaw. Please don¡¯t punch me,¡± without me needing to say anything Georgie blurted out, raising his hands protectively over his head.

    Slowly approaching him, I raised my hand, clenching it into a fist as if I were about to hit him. Surprisingly, Georgie lowered his hands and closed his eyes, bracing for what he thought was coming.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, dude,¡± I murmured, lightly patting his forehead with no real force. ¡°Did you wet yourself?¡± I asked sarcastically, amused by his relieved expression.

    ¡°No,¡± Georgie replied immediately, trying to mask his embarrassment with false pride.

    Chuckling, I opened my locker to prepare for the day.

    ¡°By the way, Kat told me not to tell you about her question. Please don¡¯t tell her I told you,¡± Georgie said nervously.

    ¡°Really, Georgie?¡± I asked incredulously.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t help it,¡± Georgie admitted, shaking his head in frustration.

    Sighing, I shook my head without saying anything.

    The day passed, and at the end of school, sitting in my car, I paused to think about what Kat had said. After a few seconds, I made my decision, nodding abruptly, and started the car, driving in the direction of the hospital.

    Upon arriving at the hospital, after greeting the nurses and thanking them for their good wishes regarding my new sister, I walked straight to the diagnostic lounge as usual, ignoring the weak laughter of the nurses watching me leave.

    "Oh well, look at that," Chase and Cameron were the only ones present when I entered the room. "Welcome back, lover boy," Chase said with a mischievous smile, raising his eyebrows.

    "Let me guess, the nurses?" I asked, defeated, while pinching the bridge of my nose.

    "Well, that or anyone who heard the yelling in the maternity wing hallway," Cameron replied, amused, shrugging her shoulders. "By the way, congratulations on your new sister. I spoke with Dr. Stratford, and he told me everything went well."

    "Thanks, Charlie is healthy as a baby should be" I murmured thinking specifically about her lungs, unable to fully express my joy, as I took a seat in one of the empty chairs. "So..." Narrowing my eyes, I was about to ask.

    "No, I don¡¯t think House knows, or at least he hasn¡¯t mentioned it," Chase answered preemptively.

    "Great," I nodded in relief. At least House¡¯s behavior kept him from learning things through the nurses¡¯ information network.

    "So, is there any case?" I asked, even though I could already guess the answer from the completely empty board.

    "You¡¯d know the answer to that if you kept up with your responsibilities," came House¡¯s unmistakably sarcastic voice from behind me.

    Turning to face him, I immediately studied House to see if he¡¯d overheard any of the previous conversation. At the same time, House narrowed his eyes, obviously studying me in return.

    "Did you two just start a staring contest or something?" Chase asked sarcastically.

    "What are you hiding?" House asked me, narrowing his eyes further.

    "What are _you_ hiding?" I countered, focusing on keeping my face expressionless, hoping to give away nothing that might help him detect a lie.

    "Oh, you really want to know my secrets, huh?" House asked with a sinister grin. "You¡¯re not ready yet," he added, leaning on his cane.

    "What secrets? That deep down you have a heart?" I asked ironically.

    "How dare you?" House exclaimed, stepping back and pretending to be offended. "I don¡¯t have a heart," he proudly declared, pointing at himself and smirking.

    "My bad, I¡¯m sorry," I quickly admitted, raising my hands.

    "It¡¯s fine, just don¡¯t let it happen again," House said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "Now, you owe me a week of clinic duty. Better start paying it off right now. Come on," he added as he left the room.

    Knowing him, he¡¯d likely avoided the clinic all week, waiting for me to do his hours.

    "Good luck," Cameron said with a slight tilt of her head, smiling.

    "Thanks," I murmured as I got up and followed House out of the room.

    Clearly determined to fill his clinic hours, House and I keep working in the clinic... well, I was working. House had a small mountain of magazines beside him.

    Following my usual routine, after leaving the hospital, I drove to the gym and then headed home.

    Still slightly sweaty, I immediately walked over to Meemaw¡¯s house.

    "Oh, Aces," Meemaw greeted me triumphantly after a few seconds of knocking on her door. "What do you need?" she asked, smiling smugly.

    "So Diane¡¯s not here," I deduced right away, noting her expression.

    "Oh, don¡¯t ruin my fun," Meemaw replied, feigning irritation.

    "Oh, sorry," I declared, pretending to be overly apologetic. "Let me try again." I waved my hands slightly in front of me, then continued, "Meemaw, is Diane home?" I asked, tilting my head and faking concern.

    Clearly unimpressed by my performance, Meemaw slowly closed the door without a word.

    "Well, thanks, Meemaw," I murmured stiffly at the door before heading back to my house.

    With nothing to do, I grabbed Gabe and carried him under my arm to the garage to lift weights before dinner. Since Charlie¡¯s arrival, Bob understandably hadn¡¯t had the time or energy to train with us.

    After finishing my workout and showering, I walked into the living room with a towel over my shoulders, my hair still damp. Mom was there with Charlie.

    "Who¡¯s the cutest little girl?" Mom cooed in a much higher-pitched voice than usual, using the odd ''baby voice'' she and Bob always used when talking to Charlie. She gently touched the baby¡¯s nose. "Hey, honey, what are you doing here?" she asked me in the same tone.

    "You¡¯re still doing the voice," I murmured, pressing my lips together in discomfort.

    "Oh, sorry," Mom said, feigning embarrassment but clearly not actually embarrassed. "What are you doing here? Didn¡¯t you go out with Diane today?" she repeated, her voice returning to normal.

    "No, Kat and Mandela took her somewhere," I replied while drying my hair, shrugging.

    "Oh, really? That¡¯s good," Mom said, nodding happily. "She needs friends her age," she added with amusement. "She can¡¯t always be hanging out with us; it¡¯s not healthy."

    "Yeah," I murmured softly, nodding.

    "Aw, are you feeling lonely?" staring at me Mom asked, oddly reverting to the baby voice.

    "No," I replied immediately, a bit too quickly for my liking.

    Sure, I missed Diane, but feeling lonely? No, at least I didn¡¯t think so.

    "Oh, my big baby, come here," Mom said, opening her free arm. "Come on," she insisted, motioning with her arm.

    "Sure, why not," I murmured, shrugging as I walked over to sit beside her on the couch.

    Being much taller than Mom, it was slightly uncomfortable to be hugged by her on the couch.

    "Hey, Charlie," I greeted as Mom held me under her arm. Charlie, who was awake, was now right in front of my face. "Ah," clearly interested in my face, Charlie reached out, almost poking me in the eye.

    "Don¡¯t attack your brother, Charlie," Mom murmured in an exaggerated baby voice, gently stroking Charlie¡¯s head.

    As I sat there, we suddenly heard loud music and the clear voices of some girls singing along from outside, thanks to the relative quiet in the house.

    "Looks like Diane¡¯s back," Mom said, smiling broadly as she released me from her embrace.

    Raising an eyebrow, she seemed to expect me to run out to meet Diane, determined not to give her the satisfaction, I simply stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room to put my towel away. Then, without missing a beat, I quickly walked out of the house, ignoring Mom¡¯s triumphant smile.

    Outside, I saw Mandela¡¯s car driving away, leaving Diane standing in Meemaw¡¯s yard.

    "Hey," I greeted Diane with a smile as I crossed the street.

    "Hello to you too," Diane murmured, pressing her lips into a small smile.

    "Did you have a good day?" I asked as I walked closer to her.

    "Yeah," Diane replied after thinking for a moment, smiling. "Your hair is wet," she noted, reaching out to touch it curiously.

    "It¡¯s sweat," I said, grinning playfully.

    "I can smell your shampoo," Diane said, rolling her eyes slightly, unimpressed with my joke.

    "Ah, you got me," I murmured, feigning disappointment as I smiled and leaned in closer.

    "Yeah," Diane murmured, biting her lip slightly to keep from smiling as she stretched up to meet me.

    Yes, I really missed her.

    ...

    A rather cheesy ending? Yeah, definitely. But what can I say¡ªstarting from here, for a few chapters, we¡¯ll return to the normal flow of the story (still with some relationship progress, but now in the background). Anyway, see you around! :D

    Strangely, I didn¡¯t know how to end this note, so I¡¯ll just recommend the series The Day of the Jackal. It¡¯s really good.

    ...

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen and not Michael Phelps.

    With that said,

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 91

    I was a little late with this chapter, sorry.

    PS: By the way, I didn''t have chanse to review this chapter, it may have some errors I''ll correct them later :D

    Enjoy

    ---

    The next day, after a day of school and working at the clinic alongside House, I arrived at the gym and started warming up. As usual, Case, accompanied by Tim, approached me.

    "Hey, do you have any plans for the next weekend?" Case asked seriously, crossing his arms as he reached where I was stretching.

    "Not really," I responded, shrugging slightly. Now that Diane spent more time with Kat and Mandela, and I had returned to my normal routine, the weekends were the only opportunities I had to go out with Diane.

    "Good, don¡¯t plan anything," Case ordered with a nod. "I''ve been in contact with some gyms from other cities and set up some fights for you guys," he added calmly, surprising me. Judging by the expression on Tim''s face, he was just as surprised. "You better be ready, you have two weeks" Case said, furrowing his brow as he looked at both Tim and me before walking away.

    "Told you," Tim murmured slowly beside me, seeming unable to believe what he had just heard.

    "Yeah, you did," I replied, nodding, equally incredulous at the news.

    I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn¡¯t expect it to be so soon.

    Knowing that in less than five days I would have to fight someone new, who was probably more experienced than me, made me feel a little nervous, but it also made me feel strangely eager.

    After all these months of training without a real opportunity to put it into practice¡ªaside from a school fight and some sparring sessions with Tim and Case¡ªI hadn''t noticed before, but I had an intense ''itch'' in my fists.

    That day, thanks to the strange excitement of having a real fight, training felt, for some reason, much easier than before.

    Imagining my mom¡¯s reaction to the news, I waited until after dinner that night, trying to find the perfect moment¡ªwhen Charlie was comfortably asleep¡ªbefore approaching my mom, who was taking care of my little sister in her room.

    "Fights?" my mom asked in a low voice, careful not to wake Charlie, her brow furrowed in complete disbelief. I knew that if this were a different situation, with Charlie awake, my mom would definitely be yelling.

    "It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds, Mom. They''re just training fights, I promise," I assured her emptily¡ªI really didn¡¯t know how dangerous these fights would be.

    "I don¡¯t know, PJ," she murmured, keeping her voice low as she stared at me, clenching her jaw.

    "This is partly for the gym''s benefit," I quickly declared in a whisper, using what I had planned to say. "The gym needs more publicity to grow," I added, noticing the change in my mom¡¯s expression. I knew she loved the idea of me being a business owner. "If we start winning fights against other gyms, we''ll attract a lot of attention. Maybe we¡¯ll even participate in tournaments at some point."

    And to some extent, that was true. With the monthly reports from my investment account and my future plans, I knew that the gym not growing wouldn¡¯t really affect me... but if there was a chance to make it successful for Case, Tim, and myself, why not?

    "A few trophies would look really good next to your article on the wall," my mom murmured, tilting her head as if weighing the pros and cons of letting me fight. "All right, but I have conditions," she added after a few seconds of silent thought.

    "Sure," I nodded, prepared to hear the conditions and maybe even debate them.

    "Nothing dangerous," she warned, pointing at me. "I don¡¯t want you getting brain damage."

    I immediately nodded. I planned to be a doctor in the future, so I definitely wouldn¡¯t be looking to take more hits to the head than necessary.

    "I want at least two trophies," she declared, raising a second finger in front of me a moment later. "Or at least pictures of you with them. The trophies can stay at the gym," she added, slightly conceding.

    "I''ll try," I said, raising my hands. I couldn¡¯t promise it since I didn¡¯t even know if we would participate in a tournament.

    Days passed with little change in my routine, aside from the long hours at the clinic. On Thursday, when I arrived at the hospital, mentally prepared for another day at the clinic, I walked into the lounge to hang my belongings on the office hooks.

    Slightly distracted by my thoughts as I entered, I didn¡¯t immediately notice Dr. Cuddy facing off against House.

    "Uh," I murmured, stopping at the door as I saw Dr. Cuddy frowning while trying to hand House a chart. If I had seen what was happening in the room beforehand, I would have gone somewhere else entirely.

    "Ah, PJ," Dr. Cuddy said in relief upon seeing me before I could silently slip away. "Take a look at this," she added, handing me the chart.

    I wasn¡¯t House¡ªI wouldn¡¯t deny anything the woman wanted to give me. So, feeling defeated, I took the chart slowly.

    "What, is the kid my administrator now?" House asked, frowning as he wandered around the room, seemingly looking for something.

    "Oh, please, House," Dr. Cuddy declared exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. "If PJ finds the case interesting, it¡¯s basically the same as you finding it interesting," she stated confidently, raising an eyebrow.

    House shook his head slightly but said nothing, continuing his search around the lounge.

    "Twelve-year-old male," Dr. Cuddy began as soon as we entered House¡¯s office, just as I opened the chart to read the patient''s data. "Everything okay, PJ?"

    As I read the first piece of information¡ªthe name¡ªI coughed in surprise, interrupting whatever she was about to say.

    "Yeah, sorry¡­ it''s just that his name is Gabe," I murmured, slightly embarrassed, since the patient''s last name was different from mine.

    "You know how to read, so what? Wanted to brag?" House asked sarcastically before continuing his search.

    "It''s my brother''s name," I declared exasperatedly, knowing that House would immediately use it as an opportunity to mock me.

    "We should sue them. You know, copyright and stuff," House said with a smirk.

    "I''m sorry," I said to Dr. Cuddy, ignoring House and nodding for her to continue.

    "No offense taken," she replied, raising a hand with a smile. "Spiking fever, congested chest, coughing up green sputum, pain in breathing."

    Pneumonia.

    "Baffling. Though I vaguely recall a disease called meunomia? Pneumania?" House asked sarcastically as he walked into his office, Dr. Cuddy only a few steps behind.

    Usually, I would play along with House at this point, but since it was Dr. Cuddy, I had no intention of getting on her bad side. That, and the patient¡¯s history ruled out pneumonia.

    "But his chest X-ray and CT scan show an atypical pattern for pneumonia," Dr. Cuddy immediately countered.

    "Pneumonia! That¡¯s it!" House exclaimed, clapping with fake enthusiasm. "Just a guess here, but are his parents big donors?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Dr. Cuddy.

    It was definitely unusual for Dr. Cuddy to try and push a patient onto House¡ªmuch more unusual to pick a specific one. If the child''s parents weren¡¯t hospital donors, then he was probably the son of a friend or family member.

    "No infiltrate, just enlarged hilar lymph nodes," Dr. Cuddy continued, ignoring House¡¯s question.

    Definitely donors. And by the way Dr. Cuddy was avoiding the topic¡ªbig ones.

    "Tiny unicorns goring his bronchial tubes would be cooler," House remarked rudely. "And the way you''re ignoring the question¡­ wow, they''re extremely big donors," he continued, studying Dr. Cuddy¡¯s face.

    "He''s not responding to cefuroxime, his pulse ox is dropping much faster than it should for pneumonia," she insisted, ignoring House again. "Plus, he''s got an odd little rash¡ª"

    "Excessive irritation, he¡¯s twelve. He¡¯s on auto-stroke," House interrupted, bored, already giving his diagnosis.

    "On his arm," Dr. Cuddy interrupted him this time, frowning. "Papular lesion, one centimeter, on top of a long, thin scab."

    That was definitely interesting. The oxygenation dropping faster than expected wasn¡¯t uncommon, but it wasn¡¯t particularly intriguing either. The skin rash, on the other hand¡­

    "Ah, you need a dermatologist," House said sarcastically, hiding his interest. "If it¡¯s dry, keep it wet. If it¡¯s wet, keep it dry. If it¡¯s not supposed to be there, cut it off. I never could master all that," he added with fake disappointment.

    As he spoke, House continued searching through the drawers in his office, opening and closing each one irritably¡ªuntil he opened a small compartment in his record player.

    "There you are," he declared excitedly, pulling out a small white pill. "Were you scared?" House asked, speaking to the pill between his fingers. "It''s okay, you''re home now," he added tenderly before popping the pill into his mouth a second later.

    "Anthropomorphism in people your age is a very clear sign of cognitive decline," I declared seriously, looking at House with exaggerated concern.

    "People my age?" House straightened his back, asking with what I could discern was genuine offense.

    "Fine," Dr. Cuddy said, raising her arms in mock desperation and walking out of the room.

    It was obvious, at least to me¡ªand surely to House¡ªthat Dr. Cuddy was using ''reverse psychology'' on him. The slow way she was ''leaving'' the room made it, to some degree, a comedic situation.

    Smiling at me conspiratorially, House theatrically raised his hand. "Cuddy, wait!" he exclaimed.

    "Yeah?" Dr. Cuddy asked immediately, visibly relieved as she spun on her heels.

    "You''re forgetting your chart with the kid," House said maliciously, pointing at me after a second of silence.

    Deciding that this time there was no harm in playing along with House, I pressed my lips in feigned disappointment and stretched out my hand to hand the chart back to Dr. Cuddy.

    "Okay, okay," Dr. Cuddy said as she took the chart from my hand and turned once more to leave the room¡ªthis time, truly defeated.

    "But just as a special favor to you¡ª" House added, stretching out his hand silently to ask for the chart.

    "No," Dr. Cuddy interrupted, smiling triumphantly. "Admit it, I got you with the rash, right?" she asked me, grinning.

    "Oh, I don''t know. I really thought House wasn¡¯t interested in the case," I quickly lied, raising my hands.

    "Smart," House murmured, scoffing as he took the chart. "The rash is a total snooze," he responded while opening the chart to read it. "Unless it''s connected to the pneumonia," he added theatrically. "Then it''s party time."

    "Keep me updated," Dr. Cuddy said with a sigh, seeing that House was now fully focused on reading the chart before walking out of the office.

    "So, it was definitely the rash, right?" I asked House once Dr. Cuddy was out of the room.

    "Obviously," House answered immediately without looking up from the documents inside the chart. "All right, let''s call your siblings," he added, seeming satisfied with what he had read as he placed the chart on his desk.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the other three doctors working in the diagnostics department to arrive at the lounge.

    After updating the doctors on the case, House dragged his whiteboard over and started writing down the symptoms.

    "Purulent sputum, dyspnea, rhonchi bilaterally," House listed. "What kind of pneumonia causes this kind of rash?" he asked, beginning the usual process.

    "Legionnaires'' disease," Chase responded immediately.

    "Usually means industrial ventilation systems, convention centers," Cameron said, shaking her head before anyone else could speak. "He''s twelve years old."

    "Send off a urine antigen and check if he''s joined the Elks," House ordered seriously. "Next?"

    "Fungal," Cameron said this time.

    "Excellent!" House exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. "Maybe the lodge went spelunking," he added sarcastically.

    "Chlamydia pneumonia," Dr. Foreman said with a slight shrug.

    "Twelve-year-olds don''t have sex," Cameron declared with distaste.

    "Their mistake," House quickly quipped.

    "What if we''re thinking about this backward?" Chase asked, having been deep in thought with a hand on his chin.

    "The rash came first, caused the pneumonia," House murmured, nodding. "Nice."

    "I like that too," I agreed, nodding. "We''re in blacklegged tick season," I added¡ªliving with Bob and hearing him talk about pests so often definitely had its advantages.

    "They''re bloodthirsty little bastards," Chase said, nodding at me.

    "The rash would be more pustular," Foreman calmly said, trying to dismiss the theory.

    "Not always," Chase immediately countered.

    "There''s only one rash¡ªit fits," I added, nodding at Chase¡¯s words.

    "If it''s a tick bite, it''s most likely Lyme disease," Cameron stated, arms crossed.

    "All right," House sighed. "Let''s keep him on fluids and the cefuroxime to be safe. Biopsy that rash," he continued, opening his eyes slightly. "And take another history¡ª even if we don''t learn what''s causing this, we definitely need to know if twelve-year-olds are getting any action."

    Once the doctors left the room, House slowly walked toward his office, probably prepared to kill time playing with his little console or reading a magazine.

    "So, do I need to tell your mom you''ve been in a lot of fights lately?" House asked without looking directly at me.

    "My knuckles?" I asked, deducing the reason House would say something like that.

    "It''s no fun if I''m not the one explaining," House declared exasperatedly, stopping at the doorway of his office.

    "Oh, sorry about that," I quickly said, faking remorse as I stood up to follow him inside. "How did you know?" I asked, mentally preparing myself and exaggerating my incredulity for a second.

    "Shut up," House ordered, shaking his head.

    "I haven¡¯t been in ''a lot of fights,''" I said calmly once we were in his office. "I¡¯ve been training a lot more to be in a few fights," I explained with a faint smile.

    My parents already knew about the fights, so I had no problem telling House since he had no way to use it against me.

    "You have no problem admitting it," House declared, slightly tilting his head in surprise, raising his eyebrows.

    "It''s something people who play sports regularly do," I declared theatrically, crossing my leg over the other. "It''s called practice."

    Raising his eyebrows, clearly noticing my mockery, House also leaned slightly in his chair. "I want you to know that I''m an excellent golfer."

    "Really?" I asked incredulously. "A doctor who plays golf? Do you smoke cigars when you do that?"

    "A clich¨¦ is a clich¨¦ because it happens a lot," House declared with a slight smirk, shrugging.

    "Hey, I got something," Chase announced proudly as he returned, only minutes after the other doctors had left.

    "No way a twelve-year-old is getting action," House declared, impressed, moving to prepare himself a coffee.

    "No, no, it¡¯s not that," Chase quickly said, making House exaggerate his disappointment. "Along with another group of kids, they broke into a house that was for sale¡ªa secret club¡ª"

    "What''s the secret? That they''re all morons?" House interrupted, asking.

    "He fell on something in the attic of the house, scraped his arm, got the rash the next day," Chase continued, ignoring House''s question. "Said it smelled really moldy up there," he added seriously, tilting his head.

    "Fungal pneumonia without the cave¡ªclever," House murmured, nodding.

    "I''m gonna get a sample. You wanna come?" Chase asked, pointing at me.

    "Sure," I answered easily, getting to my feet.

    Before Chase and I could leave the lounge, an older man dressed formally blocked the doorway, immediately looking at Chase.

    "Dr. Chase, do you have a few moments?" the man quickly asked in a strong Australian accent.

    "Sorry, I¡¯ve gotta go," Chase quickly said, looking at the man in disbelief¡ªseemingly even with a hint of fear¡ªbefore hurrying out into the hospital hallway.

    Staying behind, I studied the older man''s face for a second as he remained in the doorway, watching Chase leave. It was obvious that he and Chase shared history and, judging by the accent and hair color, possibly genetics.

    "These young doctors," House declared, pulling me from my thoughts. "No manners."

    "Excuse me," I nodded at the unknown man before walking out after Chase.

    It took me a bit of time to catch up to Chase before he reached the hospital exit.

    "So... I get that you don¡¯t want to talk about that," I murmured, clenching my jaw as we walked in silence, side by side.

    "He''s my dad," Chase finally declared with effort after a few seconds of silence.

    "Yeah, I got that," I murmured, nodding slowly.

    "Of course, you did," Chase scoffed, amused.

    We left the hospital, and the entire way there, Chase didn¡¯t bring up the topic again, so I stopped bothering him.

    "Your car or my car?" Chase asked once we were outside in the parking lot.

    "You want to ride in my car," I immediately declared, raising an eyebrow, realizing why he had invited me to check out the house.

    "Yes," Chase declared with a wide grin, visibly excited¡ªas if he had been waiting for a chance to ride in ''Debbie'' for a while.

    Not long after, we arrived at the house with a ''For Sale'' sign in front.

    "We''re gonna have to jump the gate," Chase said, pointing at the closed gate as we reached the driveway.

    With just a little preparation, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt, Chase started climbing over the gate with practiced ease.

    "Come on," Chase urged me from the other side of the gate.

    "Sure, let me just check something first," I murmured as I walked slowly to the gate latch. "Ah, look at that," I declared amusedly, pulling the gate¡¯s opening mechanism and noticing that it was, in fact, unlocked as I swung it open.

    "They''re usually locked. After a few times, you stop checking," Chase murmured, clenching his jaw in embarrassment.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "Yeah, yeah, definitely," I declared, smiling widely and raising my hands.

    "You know what? I bet there¡¯s a key under that doormat," Chase proudly declared, pointing at the mat in front of the house¡¯s main door.

    When we reached the doormat and lifted it, Chase grinned smugly as he held up the key, showing it to me.

    "Congratulations, turns out you are an expert burglar," I joked as we entered the surprisingly spacious house. "Nice house," I added.

    "Yeah," Chase replied, studying the house, likely looking for any signs of mold on the walls. "Come on."

    Seemingly following the patient¡¯s instructions to the room where he had scraped his arm, Chase quickly led me through the house.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, guys," Chase said the moment he stepped into the room first. "I don¡¯t care that you¡¯re up here."

    "You a cop?" Before I could enter, I heard a kid¡¯s voice ask.

    "Doctor¡ª" Chase started to explain.

    "But I am! Police, freeze!" I cut Chase off abruptly, bursting into the room, yelling while positioning my hands as if I were holding a gun.

    After committing the crime of impressing a law enforcement officer, the two kids standing just a few steps in front of Chase visibly panicked and immediately hugged each other, screaming¡ªat least for a second, until they realized that I was obviously not a cop and wasn¡¯t carrying a gun.

    "I¡¯m just messing with you guys," I declared, amused as I looked at the now-embracing kids, who quickly separated.

    "Not cool," one of the kids muttered, annoyed.

    "Yeah," the other kid immediately agreed.

    "Sorry, sorry," I said, smiling and raising my hands without a hint of regret.

    "We¡¯re treating Gabe Reilich," Chase continued, amused, as he put on gloves and a face mask. "He said he fell near some pipes?" he asked once he was prepared with his protective gear.

    "Yeah, over there," one of the kids said, nodding and pointing to an area on the floor.

    "What, here?" Chase asked, pointing at a spot on the floor.

    "Yeah," both kids responded in unison, nodding.

    "Great, guys. We¡¯re exploring the possibility that his condition was caused by something in this place," I said casually, noticing the beer bottles on the floor near the kids. "But our current theory is that he ingested it, maybe with beer," I added, pretending not to have seen the bottles. "Know anything about that?"

    Looking at each other for a second¡ªobviously nervous¡ªthe two kids quickly turned their attention back to me.

    "Really?" one of them asked fearfully.

    "Yeah. Any of you guys been feeling sick lately?" Chase, understanding what I was trying to do, asked. "Rash, cold, anything?"

    "No," both kids answered immediately.

    "Oh, crap," one of the kids suddenly exclaimed, looking out the attic window before anyone else could say anything. "He is a cop!" he added before bolting out of the room¡ªand probably out of the house¡ªfleeing from a patrol officer who had just stepped out of his car and was heading toward the house.

    "Damn it!" Chase murmured, moving toward the window for a better view of the officer. Then, just like the kids, he bolted, with me right behind him.

    Obviously, we couldn¡¯t leave through the front door, forcing Chase and me to climb out through a window to escape directly to the street.

    "You okay?" I asked as I jumped down from the tree we had used to escape the house, seeing Chase on the ground, having landed on his butt after doing the same.

    "Yeah, help me out," Chase responded, stretching out his hand.

    As soon as we were off the property, we ran to my car, escaping the scene before the cop could come back out.

    "That was exciting," Chase declared, laughing inside my car as we put distance between ourselves and the house.

    With no intention of responding to Chase¡¯s statement, I shook my head in amusement as I kept driving. I definitely didn¡¯t plan on having a criminal record¡­ at least not for now.

    When we arrived at the hospital, Chase called the rest of the doctors¡ªincluding House¡ªto a lab to analyze the samples he had collected from the attic.

    As Chase carefully prepared the tests, the rest of the doctors arrived.

    "How was your second time, kid? Better than the first?" House asked, strangely carrying a book on rheumatology, looking at me with false excitement.

    "Oh, definitely," I responded immediately, smiling at House. "We had to run from the cops and everything," I declared, raising my eyebrows.

    "Really?" House asked, impressed, looking at Chase, who simply nodded, smiling.

    "Ah, the good old days," House added with a nostalgic smile, opening the book in his hands to a random page.

    "Let me see," Dr. Foreman said, likely uncomfortable with the conversation, stopping it once Chase finished adjusting the microscope with the sample.

    "He fell on it," Chase quickly explained, focusing on the patient. "Some weird kind of insulation. The house was built in the sixties."

    "What¡¯s it made of?" Cameron asked curiously, examining the rest of the sample Chase had brought.

    "Felt, fibers of¡­ what, cotton?" Chase responded, not entirely sure.

    While the three doctors under his supervision continued working, House, who was reading¡ªor at least pretending to read¡ªthe book in his hands, suddenly let out an exaggerated laugh, drawing everyone¡¯s attention.

    "Sorry," he said, lifting his head and realizing he had interrupted. "Forgotten how funny your dad was," he declared maliciously, pointing at the book and grinning at Chase.

    "Not as funny as you," Chase retorted dryly, visibly irritated by House¡¯s joke.

    "High praise," House said sarcastically, standing up. "I know how protective kids can be of their parents," he continued as he approached Dr. Foreman, who was studying the sample. He nudged Foreman slightly aside and took his place.

    House handled the microscope for a few silent seconds, concentrating. "Not cotton," he suddenly said. "Animal hair," he added seriously, stepping away from the microscope. "Get me the C.T. scan."

    Following House¡¯s orders, Cameron quickly grabbed the prints and walked over to a lightbox.

    "First, find the name of the company that made the insulation," House declared, examining the images closely. "And second, tell me what I¡¯m seeing that makes me want to short their stock."

    "Uh, enlarged hilar lymph nodes," Foreman said immediately, looking at the same images the rest of us were analyzing.

    "Peribronchial thickening," Cameron followed up.

    "Pleural effusions," Chase added last.

    While all of that was definitely present, it was too obvious and not entirely related to the animal hair¡ªat least not primarily.

    "Less obvious, more scary," House murmured, squinting at the images.

    "Well, the mediastinum doesn¡¯t look right," Chase murmured, slightly tilting his head.

    "Slightly widened," Cameron added, stepping closer to the images.

    Anthrax.

    "We¡¯ve gotta get him on Levaquin," I declared seriously before anyone else could say anything, drawing the doctors¡¯ attention.

    "Oh God," Cameron declared, eyes widening in disbelief as she immediately understood why we would administer the strongest antibiotic to a child. "It can be transmitted through infected animal hair, but the Gram¡¯s stain would have shown it," she quickly added, furrowing her brow, seemingly not wanting to believe the diagnosis.

    "The cefuroxime would have killed some of it, clouding the result," I responded, pressing my lips together and shaking my head slightly.

    "Correct," House murmured somberly, nodding, causing Cameron to shake her head before walking out of the room, likely to check on the patient.

    "What does he have?" Foreman asked, still studying the images, frowning in confusion.

    "Anthrax," I responded seriously.

    "Maybe he is cursed," Chase said ironically.

    "Come on, let¡¯s go," Foreman said to Chase, nodding slowly.

    "Call mommy," House said, making them stop as they were leaving. "She¡¯s going to want to be there when they give the diagnosis to the parents," he added as he also walked out of the room.

    "How much money do you think this will bring to the hospital?" I asked House as we left the lab together.

    "Given Cuddy¡¯s insistence on us taking the case, I expect enough for a new hospital wing," House declared sarcastically. "Or a new coffee maker¡ªyou never know," he added, shrugging.

    "We could really use new televisions in the clinic," I murmured, tilting my head slightly.

    "And by ''we,'' you mean you," House said sarcastically, smiling.

    "Of course," I replied immediately.

    "Well, we can only dream," House declared with exaggerated longing. A moment later, after checking his watch, he added, "Oh, look at that! Speaking of which, you still have time for a few clinic consults. What luck we have."

    "Yeah, what luck," I sighed, nodding¡ªimmediately regretting my words.

    Fortunately, our stay in the clinic lasted no more than two patients¡ªa woman with gastritis and a guy looking for drugs¡ªbefore House¡¯s pager went off.

    "What¡¯s going on?" I asked, relieved, stopping at the door before stepping out to get the next patient. House, still seated, checked his pager.

    "Something is wrong," House declared, standing up, his face completely serious¡ªunintentionally making me feel bad for my relief.

    As we walked back toward the diagnostics lounge, House¡¯s three team members intercepted us in one of the hallways.

    "We administered the Levaquin, and his airways started swelling," Cameron immediately explained what had happened.

    "Allergic reaction to the antibiotics?" I asked, puzzled.

    "I don''t think so," Cameron sighed. "We switched him to Rifampin, and there was no change in the swelling."

    "We should try another antibiotic," House said calmly.

    "You really think he¡¯s allergic to two antibiotics?" Foreman asked incredulously.

    "I want to know what Dr. Chase thinks," House said, tilting his head, ignoring Foreman¡¯s question¡ªlikely because he had a valid point in doubting the antibiotic allergies.

    It was obvious he was referring to Chase¡¯s father.

    At least to me. "It''s possible he''s allergic¡ª" Chase, walking right beside me, started to say before I could stop him.

    "Oh! I''m sorry, not you," House exclaimed, covering his mouth in exaggerated embarrassment. "Understandable mistake¡ªthe other Dr. Chase," he added with a falsely friendly smile, making Chase stop in the middle of the hallway.

    "Not a fan of your father," I said, stopping beside Chase to keep him company, though I really didn¡¯t know what else to say.

    "Today, I¡¯m not a fan of any father," Chase declared, raising his eyebrows with irony. "Gabe¡¯s dad thinks he knows more than we do," he added, obviously intending to change the subject from his father to another one in the hospital.

    "Really? How so?" I asked, amused. I could imagine the man suggesting diseases that had nothing to do with his son''s symptoms.

    "He mentioned leishmaniasis and filariasis," Chase said, his expression incredulous.

    "What?" I asked, confused. It was common for people to come to the hospital with a preconceived diagnosis¡ªeveryone Googled their symptoms, fearing they had something serious¡ªbut such specific Asian diseases? The internet wasn¡¯t even what it was going to become yet.

    "He found it in some book," Chase scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. "Everyone¡¯s a doctor," he added with a smirk, likely realizing the irony of saying that to me. "Come on," he said, motioning for me to follow him into the lounge.

    Forcing the strangeness of the father¡¯s two random diagnoses to the back of my mind, I slowly followed Chase inside.

    While we waited for Chase¡¯s father¡ªwho had been called to the lounge by House¡ªwe discussed the case, trying to figure out if we had missed anything. At least Cameron, Foreman, and I did. Chase and House remained completely silent¡ªthe latter intensely studying the former.

    "Hello, everyone," suddenly greeted the same man we had encountered before heading to the house for sale, standing at the lounge door.

    "Hello, nice to meet you," Cameron, being the kind woman she was, immediately stood up to greet him. "I''m Allison Cameron."

    "Rowan Chase," the man introduced himself with a thick accent, taking Cameron¡¯s hand and kissing it with a broad smile.

    "Eric Foreman," Foreman said from the other side of the table, offering a somewhat uncomfortable smile.

    "A pleasure," Chase¡¯s father said kindly to him. "And you must be PJ Duncan," he continued, pointing at me as he walked closer.

    "Yeah," I murmured, puzzled by the recognition, as I took his offered hand in a firm handshake.

    "I''ve heard a lot about you¡ªa medical prodigy," Dr. Rowan declared, gripping my hand firmly.

    "And we''ve heard a lot about you¡ªall from your son''s mouth, of course," House interjected with a malicious grin, interrupting my slightly uncomfortable conversation with the man.

    With his introduction, it was already quite clear that he had some relationship with Chase, but House¡¯s comment served as final confirmation for Foreman and Cameron, who now looked at Chase in surprise.

    "Ah, yeah, I can imagine," the man said, nodding slowly, a hint of pain on his face as he glanced at his son standing far from everyone. "So, what can I do for you?" he asked, clapping his hands lightly.

    "We have a twelve-year-old," Cameron immediately began explaining to him, following a silent cue from House.

    "A boy gets anthrax and happens to be allergic to two antibiotics?" Dr. Rowan repeated slowly after listening to Cameron. "Hate to step on anybody¡¯s toes, but is it possible your guys got this one wrong?"

    "The rash is classic anthrax," Chase immediately countered, frowning as if feeling the need to defend himself.

    "Except for the color," his father replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

    "The rash hasn¡¯t turned black yet," Cameron explained, trying to reason with Chase. "No necrosis, no anthrax."

    "Necrosis can theoretically take as long as two weeks," Chase quickly replied, smugly smiling¡ªnot at Cameron, who had made the comment, but at his father.

    House, standing beside me, was completely focused on the way father and son were staring at each other with fake polite smiles. It was obvious¡ªnot just to House and me¡ªthat the two doctors who shared a last name also shared ill thoughts about each other. Or at least Chase did toward his father.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" House exclaimed with exaggerated concern. "Guys, it¡¯s not a competition," he added, shaking his head with comically wide eyes. "It¡¯s a diagnosis," he said seriously, standing up.

    Walking slowly to where Chase stood, House stopped beside him. "Okay, who thinks Junior wins?" he asked, and no one raised their hand.

    Chase wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªanthrax-related necrosis could take weeks to appear¡ªbut the likelihood of being doubly allergic to different antibiotics was too low to take the risk.

    "Four to one¡ªit''s not anthrax," House said with a falsely uncomfortable smile at Chase. "So, we start over. What''s changed? What do the nodules tell us?" he asked again as he walked to his whiteboard.

    "Sarcoidosis," Dr. Rowan said before taking another sip of his coffee.

    "Excellent," House nodded. "Send an ACE level," he ordered. "If it comes back positive, put him on methotrexate."

    Chase, head slightly lowered, took a second before sighing and walking out of the room without saying another word to anyone. Shortly after, Foreman and Cameron followed, bidding farewell to Dr. Rowan.

    "Where¡¯s the nearest bathroom?" Dr. Rowan asked once the three doctors had left the room.

    "That way," House answered disinterestedly, pointing. It seemed that, without Chase present, House didn¡¯t really care about the man¡¯s presence.

    "I don¡¯t think it¡¯s sarcoidosis," I said once we were alone in the room, shaking my head slightly.

    "It doesn¡¯t fit completely, but it¡¯s more likely than anthrax," House declared as he walked into his office.

    "Yeah, I get that," I murmured, nodding slightly as I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of House¡¯s desk while he sat in his own. "If someone arrives with a preconceived diagnosis¡ªsuch a specific one¡ªwhat do you think it means?" I asked, watching as House got comfortable with his handheld console in hand.

    "You know the answer," House said flatly, without looking at me.

    Yes, I did.

    Nodding slightly, I stood up and walked to House¡¯s bookshelf, searching through his books. Before accusing anyone, I needed to do some research.

    Deciding not to stay in the same room as House, I grabbed a few books and took them to the diagnostics lounge.

    I had been searching for several minutes when House walked out of his office, frowning.

    "What¡¯s wrong?" I asked, puzzled.

    Without answering, House simply pointed at the door, where the rest of the doctors¡ªincluding Chase¡¯s father, who hadn¡¯t returned from the bathroom until now¡ªentered the room.

    "It''s definitely anthrax, and it definitely can''t be anthrax," Dr. Foreman argued with Cameron as he entered the lounge first. "It doesn''t cause throat nodules."

    "Did you find necrosis?" I asked, surprised, closing the book I had open on the table.

    "Yes," Chase answered me seriously, nodding.

    "The only explanation is that this kid¡¯s got anthrax and sarcoidosis," Dr. Rowan declared calmly.

    "Right, two incredibly rare diseases just happening to strike at once," Chase said, frowning at his father.

    "Unless you''ve got a better theory," Dr. Rowan murmured, smirking smugly at his son.

    "Anthrax plus an allergic reaction," Chase immediately said.

    "Call The Lancet, because that''s one bizarre allergic reaction," Dr. Rowan replied sarcastically, the smirk vanishing from his face.

    "Come on," House interrupted the father-son argument, despite visibly enjoying the ''show.'' "There''s no reason you both can''t be wrong."

    "It''s not an allergy, but it''s not a coincidence either," I murmured. "One is causing the other?" I asked House.

    Pointing at me, House nodded. "Anthrax weakened his immune system and triggered dormant sarcoidosis," House stated calmly. "Keep him on antibiotics for the anthrax and start the methotrexate for the sarcoidosis," he ordered again. "See what happens."

    "Fine," Chase muttered, nodding before storming out of the room.

    "Better go with him," House said, tilting his head toward Chase. "Make sure he doesn''t snap and hurt somebody," he added, prompting the rest of the doctors¡ªincluding Dr. Rowan¡ªto follow Chase out.

    "You¡¯re really enjoying this," I said to House, shaking my head but unable to suppress a slight smile.

    "And you¡¯re not?" House asked incredulously.

    "Of course not. I¡¯m not a sadist," I scoffed, picking up the book I had left on the table.

    "I''m sorry for you," House declared amusedly as he walked to his office.

    "Yeah, sure," I murmured, smiling.

    This time, only a few minutes passed before I was interrupted in my search again.

    A visibly angry man with a deep frown entered the lounge. "Are you being funny?" Before I could ask who he was, the man directed the question at House, who was standing in his office doorway.

    "Apparently not," House responded disinterestedly, shrugging.

    "You know why I give money to this hospital?" The man, whom I now recognized as the patient''s father, Mr. Reilich, asked House. "It¡¯s the only way to get attention," he continued without waiting for House to respond¡ªfortunately for the situation, as House would surely have replied with some kind of insult. "See this?" he asked, raising one of his hands.

    "Is this a magic trick?" House asked, feigning excitement. "Because I am a total David Copperfield fan," he quickly added. "Although I thought that tornado of fire seemed a little fake."

    "Pain in the wrist," Mr. Reilich explained, ignoring House¡¯s joke. "It wouldn''t go away for months," he continued, moving his hand but strangely keeping it open. "Six doctors'' brilliant conclusion was to ''take it easy,''" the man said, offended. "I write a check, my name goes on a plaque, and 48 hours later, I''ve got two MRIs, a bone scan, and a diagnosis: carpal tunnel. I''m in surgery that afternoon."

    "Fascinating story," House declared with false surprise. "Have you thought of adapting it for the stage?" he asked sarcastically, walking toward his office.

    "I love my¡ª" Mr. Reilich clenched his fist tightly, then immediately let it go with pain¡ªsomething House, who had turned his back, couldn¡¯t see. "Look at me, I love my son," he said seriously, pointing at House with his other hand. "I love him more than anything else in the world. So start paying attention to this case, or I¡¯m gonna make things miserable for you."

    House, not at all intimidated by the man¡¯s words, was surely about to reply with some kind of joke, but his pager interrupted him.

    "Go to your son''s room," House declared somberly, his expression shifting immediately.

    "Not until you get your ass¡ª" the man started to say.

    "There''s a problem," House interrupted him seriously.

    Without another word, Mr. Reilich quickly left the room, running down the hospital hallway until he disappeared from our sight.

    "Awkward," House said, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

    Ignoring him, now having much more information than before, I quickly opened one of the books on the table.

    Something didn¡¯t quite add up¡ªdiagnoses so strange that they weren¡¯t even listed in most of the books I had taken from House¡¯s shelf, a previously healthy twelve-year-old¡¯s immune system weakened to a concerning degree, and ulnar nerve damage misdiagnosed as carpal tunnel. It wasn¡¯t sarcoidosis.

    "Skin lesions are spreading all over his body," Foreman¡¯s voice suddenly pulled me from my thoughts. "They¡¯re opening up, and the fatty tissues are oozing out. He''ll be septic in a matter of days," he declared grimly.

    "Death by dermatitis," Cameron muttered.

    "Wait, what do the skin lesions look like?" I quickly turned in my chair, noticing how House narrowed his eyes at me.

    "Small and red, all over his back," Foreman answered immediately.

    "Where''s Robert?" Dr. Rowan asked, puzzled, looking around the lounge and interrupting my train of thought.

    "Uh, he has clinic duty," Cameron answered awkwardly.

    "No, he doesn¡¯t," House immediately corrected her, shifting his attention to Cameron. "I rescheduled you guys so you¡¯d be free," he added, slightly raising an eyebrow.

    "Yeah, but he re-reschedules himself," Cameron replied, pressing her lips together and avoiding eye contact with Dr. Rowan.

    House, unlike Cameron, looked at the man with a grin. "Keep that thought," he said, pointing at me without looking. "We¡¯re going to the clinic."

    "What were you thinking?" Cameron asked me as we walked together toward the free clinic.

    "Ah! No spoilers!" House exclaimed, stopping me before I could answer.

    Shrugging, I silently apologized to Cameron. I didn¡¯t have my theory fully articulated yet¡ªI just needed one more thing.

    "You page me?" House asked as he barged into one of the clinic¡¯s exam rooms without knocking.

    "No, I don''t need you," Chase¡¯s voice responded from inside, as House stood blocking the door.

    "Come on, we all need help now and again," House quickly said. "You''re getting a consult," he added as he walked further into the room, gesturing for us to follow.

    "Good afternoon," I greeted awkwardly as I entered the exam room with the rest of the doctors.

    "Hi, my hand hurts," the patient, an older man, said, raising one of his hands.

    "Your watch is too tight," I pointed out immediately, noticing the tight watch strap on his wrist and focusing back on the other doctors.

    Chase looked incredulous as the patient adjusted his watch and moved his hand, visibly relieved.

    "Okay," House murmured, also glancing at the man. "We¡¯ve got new skin lesions¡ªbigger and uglier. What would cause that?"

    "What if his body worked so hard attacking the anthrax that it started attacking itself?" Dr. Rowan suggested.

    "Autoimmune," Cameron immediately said.

    "Wouldn¡¯t present this aggressively," Chase quickly countered, shaking his head.

    "It¡¯s not likely, but it is possible," Cameron argued.

    "What, in a twelve-year-old male?" Chase questioned. "Gabe¡¯s dad found leishmaniasis and filariasis in some book earlier. They didn¡¯t fit then, but now they kind of do."

    "Sure, except for the nodules, and we¡¯re not working out of Calcutta General," House shot back sarcastically.

    "Multiple neurofibromatosis," Chase quickly changed his diagnosis.

    "You think this is neurological?" Foreman asked incredulously.

    "The only reason you''re thinking autoimmune is because you''re a rheumatologist," Chase snapped at his father. "If you were a proctologist, you''d think rectal cancer."

    "If this were a contest, gotta go with Senior," House said with fake discomfort. "He literally wrote the book on this one."

    "Autoimmune is a big universe¡ª" Cameron started to say, but House raised his hand, cutting her off.

    "But fortunately, we have the other side of the spectrum," House declared, amused. "Kid, does any of this help your theory?" he asked, drawing everyone''s attention to me.

    "Leishmaniasis and filariasis do," I nodded.

    "We already ruled those out," Foreman said, surprisingly without dismissing me.

    "No, but the father doesn¡¯t know that," I replied, shrugging.

    "How sure are you about your diagnosis?" House asked, raising his eyebrows.

    "Seventy percent," I said, tilting my head in response.

    "I like those odds," House declared with a nod. "But what do you need to make it a hundred percent?" he asked with a sinister smile.

    "Talk to the father," I replied, pressing my lips together as I braced myself for what I might have to do.

    "What are you talking about?" Dr. Rowan asked, puzzled.

    "PJ discovered something," Cameron explained, arms crossed, seemingly accustomed to what was happening.

    Without actually getting an answer to his question, the man inquisitively looked at the others in the room.

    "We don''t ask, they''re different" just as Cameron crossed his arms, defeated Dr. Foreman replied.

    "What are we waiting for, then?" House asked. "There''s a kid waiting to be saved," he declared theatrically, walking out of the room with the rest of the doctors.

    "You can go, sir," I assured the patient with a smile before leaving, as he silently watched everything unfold.

    "Oh, thanks," the man said, getting up and walking past me out of the office.

    "So you''re not going to tell us what you discovered?" Dr. Rowan asked, confused, as we walked toward the patient''s room.

    "No, it''s more fun if we all figure it out together," House declared with a wide grin. Considering what he and I knew about the father, House was probably already forming an idea of my theory.

    When we arrived at Gabe''s room, we found his parents huddled at the foot of the bed, embracing each other. The child, obviously weak and sick, lay on his side. I could now see the onset of lesions spreading beyond his back, beginning to cover his face and arms¡ªit was progressing fast.

    "What''s going on?" Mr. Reilich asked, frowning as we all entered the room together. "Who is this?" he asked, pointing at me and making my age noticeable.

    "Oh, sorry, Mr. Reilich, I''m PJ Duncan," I said, extending my hand for a handshake.

    "Ah, Cuddy mentioned you. Supposedly a genius," the man said, recognizing my name as he took my hand. "Ah!" he immediately exclaimed, pulling his hand back in pain.

    Offering my hand for a handshake had been nothing more than a small trap¡ªI had gently pressed the ulnar nerve in his wrist. His reaction made it clear that the carpal tunnel surgery had not solved the pain.

    "Ninety percent," I said to House, pressing my lips together seriously.

    "What is going on here? Is this some kind of game?" Mr. Reilich asked, obviously irritated as he rubbed his hand.

    "Dad, what''s going on?" Gabe, still lying on his side, nervously asked, awakened by his father''s shouting.

    "The thing is, your father has been misbehaving," House responded with a sarcastic smile.

    "How long were you in Asia?" I asked, staring at the angry man, trying not to make him feel attacked.

    "I''ve never been there," the man immediately responded defensively, and judging by Gabe¡¯s mother''s reaction, she had no idea either.

    "Well, you probably just forgot," House said sarcastically. "Let me refresh your memory¡ªsome remote, dusty village, close quarters, at least a year?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Starting to come back?" he asked, feigning interest.

    "I''m calling Dr. Cuddy," the man threatened, offended, as he moved toward the room''s phone.

    "Excuse me, what does this have to do with our son?" Gabe''s mother asked, concerned.

    "Your dad''s pissed off," House said, talking to Gabe. "I mean, he should be¡ªhe comes here expecting us to do an extra-good job because he gives a whole lot of money to this hospital¡ª"

    Slamming the phone down, Mr. Reilich quickly approached House. "Don''t talk to my son like that!" he furiously warned, pointing at House.

    "Just telling him my job and my obligation," House quickly said, raising his hands as if pretending to be afraid of the man''s warning.

    "Stop!" Gabe''s mother anxiously shouted, holding her son''s hand, stopping whatever her ex-husband was about to do. "What''s going on?" she asked, on the verge of tears.

    "You just need to tell the truth, or your son will die," I said, looking seriously at the man. "How long were you in Asia?" I asked again.

    "Jeff, it''s a simple question," the woman said, pleading with her eyes while still holding her son.

    Looking at everyone in the room, swallowing with difficulty, he finally responded, "Two years, in India."

    "One hundred percent," I whispered to myself.

    "Why would you lie about something like that?" the woman asked in disbelief, holding her son''s head in her arms as she stared at Mr. Reilich.

    "It was ''77 and ''78," the man admitted, lowering his head slightly. "This, uh, this guru... I thought he had some answers. I went to his ashram... and, um, ended up with no money and no answers," he finally admitted. "I was embarrassed, I didn''t want anyone to know."

    As the man recounted his story to his son and ex-wife, House silently signaled for us to leave the room.

    "What was that?" Chase''s father asked, impressed, staring at me.

    "An informed guess," I replied, pressing my lips slightly.

    "You got all that just from the father''s diagnoses?" Chase asked, equally impressed.

    "Partially, yes," I admitted. "It was strange that a man with no medical education knew those diagnoses, but even stranger that only two of nearly seven books in the lounge mentioned them," I continued. "Then there was his wrist surgery¡ªit was a misdiagnosis of carpal tunnel syndrome."

    Dr. Foreman let out a surprised huff, shaking his head with an amused smile. "So what is it?" he asked.

    "Let me guess," House interrupted before I could answer, overly excited. "If I were Jesus, I could cure this disease as easily as turning water into wine," he said as if it were a game show.

    "Demonic possession?" Dr. Foreman joked.

    "What is leprosy?" I answered, playing along with House.

    "We have a winner," House declared, amused.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps and not Arsene Lupin.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 92

    Sorry for the delay.

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "Leprosy, really?" incredulous but not immediately dismissing my diagnosis, Dr. Foreman asked.

    "I''m pretty sure," I responded, nodding slowly. "We can run a Fite stain, it should be positive," I added once we arrived at the diagnostic lounge.

    "Oh, it''ll be. Daddy hung out at the wrong kind of Indian ashram," House declared sarcastically.

    "But it''s obviously dormant in the dad," Foreman, still incredulous, stated. "How could the kid catch it?"

    "It''s not dormant in the dad," House immediately said. "It''s just slow. Like the kid, the dad was misdiagnosed with carpal tunnel, but what was really happening is that his ulnar nerves are damaged," House explained to Foreman, diagnosing what I had discovered. "Run a Fite stain," he ordered the other doctor, leaning slightly toward him.

    "No wonder he got anthrax," Dr. Rowan scoffed as Dr. Foreman left the room. "The leprosy weakened his immune system."

    "Vicious circle. The leprosy made him vulnerable to the anthrax, and the anthrax treatment put the leprosy in overdrive," House stated calmly as he walked to his chair.

    "But the antibiotics we gave him, they cure leprosy," Chase said, frowning.

    In theory, that was true, but there were things to consider.

    "Yeah, explain that, kid," House said, pointing at me as he took a seat. "I''m pretty tired of talking."

    "Tired of talking? You?" I asked ironically. Everyone in the room, except for one person, knew how much House enjoyed giving his speeches. "The antibiotics hit the nerve strands," I began to explain, ignoring House''s falsely offended expression. "They kill the leprosy bacteria, and the corpses get tossed into the system."

    "And our bodies are so stupid that¡ª" House said with an odd smile, stopping and pointing at me.

    "They produce antibodies to fight dead bacteria," I said, shaking my head in amusement at House''s intervention. "The antibodies attack the neural and fat cells, causing inflammation and all the rest of the symptoms."

    "So the cure''s killing him," Dr. Rowan said, nodding in understanding and shaking his head in disbelief.

    "Basically," I replied, nodding.

    "I want you to call down to Carville, Louisiana," House ordered Cameron. "They had the last leper colony in the Lower 48. Get ''em to send up some thalidomide."

    "Thalidomide?" Cameron asked, surprised.

    "Twelve-year-olds don''t have sex, right?" House asked sarcastically. "So he can''t be pregnant," he added with a careless shrug. "Make the call," he said seriously, prompting Cameron to nod and leave the office shortly after.

    Behind Cameron, Chase was also ready to leave the office.

    "I need to speak to your boy," House called out, stopping Chase and speaking to Dr. Rowan, though it was clear he was ordering Chase not to leave.

    Dr. Rowan looked at House for a second before nodding slightly and standing up, with an oddly poorly hidden effort.

    Glancing at House, I found him looking at me with silent understanding in his eyes.

    "Good luck," I mouthed to Chase as I followed Dr. Rowan out of the room, tilting my head slightly to avoid smiling.

    "What you do is really impressive, son," Dr. Rowan said kindly as we walked down the hospital hallway.

    "Thank you, sir," I replied, nodding. "I''ve been learning from Dr. House for months now. He''s a good teacher," I added.

    "No matter how good a teacher someone is, if the student has no talent, it''s useless. And you, son, you have talent for diagnosing, and at your age..." he said, stopping and exhaling in an oddly proud manner while shaking his head in amusement.

    It was strange to receive so much encouragement from the man, especially given how painfully obvious his poor relationship with his son was.

    "Thanks," I repeated, smiling slightly. Taking advantage of the fact that the man was now facing me, I did a quick physical examination¡ªat least what I could see.

    And it was bad. I hadn''t noticed before because I wasn''t really looking, but the man showed clear signs of illness in his body and face¡ªfatigue, sweat, bags under his eyes, his slightly hunched posture, and he even seemed short of breath despite us having walked only a short distance.

    "I''m sorry, I hope I''m not being intrusive, but why did you come to Texas?" I asked, hiding my true intentions by tilting my head slightly. "It doesn''t seem like an attempt to reconcile with Chase."

    "Doesn''t seem like it, right?" the man asked with a sad smile, lowering his head slightly. "Robert and I certainly haven''t had the best relationship since his mother and I separated," he explained calmly. "But you''re right. The reason I''m here isn''t entirely to mend things with Robert. I''m here to attend some conference in Houston, so I thought I''d pay a small visit," he added, returning to the subject, surely realizing he was talking to me.

    He was definitely lying. I didn''t understand why.

    "I see," I murmured, nodding slowly.

    "You must think I''m a bad father," the man said with a slight smile.

    Yeah, I mean, from what little I know, yeah.

    "No, of course not," I quickly lied, smiling at the man. "I don''t have a great relationship with my father myself. There''s a small barrier that doesn''t exist with my mother, you know?" I quickly added, continuing with my lie.

    "Well, this may be ironic coming from me," Dr. Rowan scoffed, "but I strongly recommend trying to work things out with your father. You never know how much time you have," he said with a sad smile, looking toward the end of the hallway where the diagnostic lounge was.

    Wait.

    While Dr. Rowan had his face turned, I caught a glimpse of his neck for a few seconds.

    "You have cancer," I stated, immediately recognizing the little blue dot under his collar.

    "I''m sorry?" the man asked, widening his eyes and immediately turning his attention back to me, incredulous.

    "You''re definitely lying about the conference. And even though you''re trying to hide it, I can see signs of weakness in how you move. You''re sick," I stated seriously. "Dr. Wilson is a great oncologist but a terrible liar. If I ask him, I bet I''ll find out the truth right away," I added before the man could even think of denying it.

    Staring at me, the man remained completely silent for a while.

    "Really impressive," he finally said, exhaling.

    "How long?" I asked. It was quite easy to deduce it was terminal just from his words.

    If I had to guess based on visible symptoms alone¡ªlung cancer.

    "Lungs. Stage four," the man responded after another couple of seconds of silence, confirming my theory. "Three months."

    I feel really bad about this diagnosis.

    "I''m sorry," I said, both for my ''imprudence'' in questioning him that way and for the weight of the prognosis.

    "Don''t be," Dr. Rowan immediately told me. "You''re a prodigy. If you see something wrong, you can''t help but feel curious," the man said, oddly amused.

    "Even though it wasn''t my place to instigate," I quickly said, raising my hands slightly.

    "Like I said, son, don''t worry," the man said with a kind smile. "Now, I expect you not to tell anyone about this," he added, tilting his head.

    "Of course," I responded immediately.

    It would be quite difficult to hide it from House, but it was plausible.

    "Not even Chase," the man said. "I''d prefer not to tell him."

    I''d just have to make up some nonsense about the man¡ªmaybe some embarrassing secret or something similar... wait.

    "What?" I asked, incredulous.

    "I don''t want him to know," the man said seriously, lowering his face slightly and looking at me.

    I was pretty fine with not telling anyone about this, but this was definitely different.

    "Why?" I asked, incredulous. The man had only a few months left to live, and he didn''t plan on telling his son.

    "I''m sorry, son, but here''s where your curiosity must end," the man said with an apologetic smile. "It''s not your business," he added.

    "I can''t do that," I declared, frowning.

    "Do what?" the man asked, confused.

    "I''m sorry, sir, but if you don''t tell Chase, then I will," I declared, narrowing my eyes and looking directly at him.

    "You can''t do this," the man murmured, shaking his head, eyes wide.

    "That''s the thing about not being a doctor yet, Dr. Rowan," I declared as I slowly walked back to the lounge. "I haven''t had a single ethics class. I still don''t know what I can and can''t do," I added, spinning on my heels and walking away on my own.

    Without looking back for a second¡ªsince I knew the man wasn''t following me¡ªI reached the lounge, where, without saying goodbye or answering House''s obviously interested questions, I left with my things.

    As I drove away from the hospital, remembering the expression on the older man''s face, I felt pretty bad about having to threaten him to get him to talk to Chase about it. I would definitely do it again if necessary, but that didn''t take away the discomfort in my stomach.

    Fortunately, training with Case helped me center my mind, and hitting a punching bag certainly helped.

    The next day, much more determined about what I had said the day before, I was at school during lunch, listening amusedly to Georgie''s narration of some strange dream he had, when Kat and Mandela approached the table.

    "Did you hear about Jake Thompson''s party?" Kat asked as she sat down at the table.

    "No," I immediately replied, but my voice was drowned out by the voices of everyone else at the table.

    "Yes."

    "What?" I asked, confused. "How come I didn''t know about it?" I added.

    I actually partially knew the answer, it was just¡ª

    "If someone had told you, would you have gone?" Mandela asked, frowning, obviously knowing the answer.

    Yeah, that.

    "Probably not," I immediately replied, shaking my head. "But I''d like to be involved in things," I added, shrugging.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Oh, PJ," Kat said softly, smiling with exaggerated condescension as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

    "Yeah, yeah," I murmured dismissively, pushing her hand away while eating my lunch.

    "What about the party?" Georgie asked, snorting in amusement. "You''re not going?" he added, surprised.

    "We are," Kat quickly nodded, pointing at herself and Mandela. "I was just asking about this guy," she added, pointing at me without looking.

    "What?" I asked, slightly choking on my food. "Why?" I added, squinting.

    "Oh, I thought you might want to go with Diane. She is your girlfriend, after all," Kat replied sarcastically, looking at me strangely.

    Choking again, this time on my own saliva, I asked, "What?"

    "She''s a teenager, and as a teenager myself, I''m taking her to a party," Kat declared arrogantly, silently supported by Mandela''s enthusiastic nodding.

    I really couldn''t refute anything Kat had said. She was definitely right¡ªDiane should have more fun than just being with ''the mothers,'' Kat and Mandela, and, as much as it pained me to say it, with me.

    "Yeah, you''re right," I said, nodding.

    "And even if you don''t go, you can''t stop Diane from going," Kat quickly said, apparently not hearing my response. "But I think you, being her boyfriend, should accompany her to her first party so she can be safer."

    "I said yes," I said, amused.

    "What?" Kat asked incredulously.

    "I said yes," I repeated slowly. "You''re right. Diane has the right to have fun at a party, or at least experience it once. I won''t stop her if she wants to go, and I''ll definitely go with her," I added.

    If for some reason Diane actually enjoyed being in a place with dozens of drunk teenagers dancing to loud music, it would certainly be a sight to see.

    "Ah, okay," Kat murmured, nodding, apparently not expecting that response from me.

    "And still, I''m not Georgie''s mom," I said, confused. "No offense," I added, looking at my friend, who was, at that moment, eating a sandwich in a rather unappealing manner.

    "Don''t worry," Georgie said casually, his mouth full of sandwich.

    "I''m not against going to parties," I said, trying to ignore the small bits of food that flew out of Georgie''s mouth onto the table we shared, slowly moving my food farther away.

    "No, no," Kat denied, responding with evident skepticism.

    "What? I''m not," I immediately declared, offended. "I just don''t enjoy the atmosphere, right?" I added, trying to seek support from my ''friends.''

    Georgie and David, who were on the other side of the table, quickly avoided all eye contact with me.

    "If you say so. Clearly, it has nothing to do with the fact that you don''t know how to have fun," Kat murmured, focusing her attention back on her lunch.

    "I know how to have fun," I quickly declared, strangely feeling offended. "I''m a fun guy," I added, slightly expanding my shoulders. "You," I said, pointing at another student who was walking by with a clean tray, presumably to return it. I made him stop. "I''m fun, right?" I asked, smiling.

    "Yes, sir," the other student, who was probably in our year and, to be honest, not very tall, immediately replied.

    "See?" I declared, pointing at the guy, who quickly walked away from the table.

    "That doesn''t count," Kat said seriously, shaking her head. "You basically forced him to say what you wanted."

    "I did not," I retorted, offended.

    "Yeah, you did," Georgie and David said at the same time, apparently deciding to stop avoiding my gaze.

    "Well, it doesn''t matter. I''m a fun guy," I declared. "I just don''t like parties that much, that''s it," I added, making it clear I wouldn''t continue the topic.

    "Whatever you say, smart pants," Kat said, smirking arrogantly.

    I''m fun.

    Later that day, when I arrived at the hospital, I found Cameron and Chase working on some documents in the diagnostics lounge.

    "Hey," Chase greeted me with a carefree smile before I could even try to figure out if he had talked to his father yet.

    I guess they haven''t talked yet.

    "Hey, PJ," Cameron greeted me kindly, lifting her face from the documents she was working on.

    "Hey, how''s everything?" I asked as I hung my things on the hooks in the lounge.

    "Fine. The thalidomide arrived last night, and Gabe is improving quickly," Cameron immediately responded.

    "That''s great," I said, nodding in relief.

    "Kid!" House shouted from his office.

    Lowering my head slightly, I sighed, ignoring Chase, who was grinning vindictively. A moment later, I walked straight to House''s office.

    I knew this was going to happen. It was obvious House would be interested in Dr. Rowan and whatever he was hiding.

    "Yeah?" I asked, smiling awkwardly at House as I entered.

    "Close the door," he ordered, narrowing his eyes slightly.

    "What do you need?" I asked after closing the door to his private office, walking to one of the empty chairs by his desk.

    "What? I can''t just say hi to my prot¨¦g¨¦?" he asked, dramatically pressing his hand to his heart.

    "I didn''t find anything interesting," knowing where the conversation was going I told House, keeping my expression as serious as possible. "Maybe he''s cheating on his wife, but I couldn''t get a direct answer," I added, shrugging.

    "Mmh," House hummed, nodding slowly with his eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

    "Do you know what a macrobiotic diet is?" House asked, leaning back in his chair.

    "Yeah," I replied, lowering my head in defeat.

    There was no point in trying to hide what I had found¡ªHouse had figured it out on his own.

    "So you found out," House said, slightly impressed. "You''re getting good at lying. Good," he added, oddly proud.

    "How?" I asked, clenching my jaw, curious if I had missed something.

    "After you left like someone had just told you he had terminal lung cancer, Dr. Rowan didn''t take long to leave as well," House narrated casually. "So I deduced you two talked about something bad."

    "Of course," I murmured, rolling my eyes in exasperation at both myself and Dr. Rowan.

    House smirked, proud. "So, why are you going to tell him?" he asked seriously, tilting his head toward the wall where Cameron and Chase were working.

    "He deserves to know," I responded immediately. "Why weren''t you going to tell him?" I asked, matching House''s seriousness.

    "I don''t care," he replied instantly, shrugging as he lifted a magazine to completely cover his face.

    Sighing, I opened the door to leave the office.

    "All good?" Chase asked me with an amused smile.

    "Just House," I replied sarcastically, tilting my head. Both Chase and Cameron sighed and nodded in understanding without me needing to explain further.

    "Hey, I''m a fun guy, right?" I asked, recalling my conversation with Kat at school.

    My question made the two doctors in front of me stop smiling completely.

    "Yeah," they both answered at the same time after exchanging a brief glance.

    "Tell me the truth," I said, frowning quickly. "Please," I added.

    "You''re funny," Cameron said with a slightly awkward smile, lowering her head slightly.

    Even though it wasn''t an insult, it certainly felt like one.

    "What?" I asked incredulously. "No, not you guys too," I added, shaking my head in frustration.

    "I''m sorry, mate, it''s just that you''re a sixteen-year-old who spends half his day working in a hospital without pay," Chase declared with an awkward smile, making Cameron nod in agreement. "And you''re probably the only teenager in the world who drives under the speed limit with that car," he added, narrowing his eyes slightly.

    "Every Monday when I ask about your weekend, it''s almost always the same answer," Cameron added, pressing her lips together uncomfortably. "Never a party or something stupid like the rest of your peers."

    Mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say, I nodded and forced myself to slowly close my mouth as I walked out of the room.

    I was definitely fun.

    For some reason, that day I felt no need to practice anything in the skills lab. Instead, I walked to the hospital auditorium, calling Neil, the person in charge of miscellaneous equipment, beforehand to set up a projector for me.

    I had some surgery videos I wanted to watch, and rather than viewing them on a small television, I was going to do something out of the ordinary. I was fun.

    Much later that day, after training and returning home, I decided to go to Meemaw''s house to meet up with Diane.

    "Hey," Diane greeted me with a soft smile a few seconds after I knocked on the door.

    "Hello," Diane responded, pressing her lips together slightly.

    "So, Kat told you about the party," I asked seriously after properly greeting Diane, as we sat on Meemaw''s porch.

    "Oh yeah, we even went to buy new clothes for the party," Diane quickly responded. "Kat said ''cool clothes,'' whatever that is," she added, narrowing her eyes slightly in amusement.

    "Really?" I asked, surprised. "Can I see this ''cool clothes''?" I asked, smiling.

    "You''ll have to wait," Diane declared playfully with a small smile.

    "Are you sure about that? You''re just building expectation," I asked, forcing myself to keep a neutral expression.

    "That''s a fair point," Diane said, narrowing her eyes and nodding slightly. "But I think it''s fine. Kat, Mandela, and the store clerk all agreed that you''d be ''mesmerized'' by me," she added calmly and proudly.

    I wasn''t sure she was supposed to tell me that.

    "Now I really want to see it," I said amused. "So I suppose correctly that you want to go to the party," I asked, resting my head on my hand as I got lost in Diane''s eyes.

    "Oh yeah, Kat made it sound like an interesting experience. I want to go," Diane declared, nodding calmly.

    "All right," I murmured, smiling as I noted the seriousness in Diane''s response and her lack of hesitation.

    The next day passed without anything really interesting happening, like any other day¡ªuntil the evening. Kat and Mandela had arrived, ''kidnapping'' Diane from my house, where we had been watching movies, agreeing on a time to meet outside Meemaw''s house since they needed time to ''get ready.''

    Checking my watch in disbelief, I noticed that there were still almost two hours left before the agreed time.

    "You''re going to a party?" Mom asked as she stepped out of her room at the same time Diane left with Kat and Mandela.

    "Oh, yeah. I''m sorry, I forgot to tell you," I responded, deciding to completely ignore the fact that Mom had obviously been eavesdropping.

    I hoped she wouldn''t be mad at me for my irresponsibility in telling her. Definitely a fun guy.

    "Oh, that''s good," Mom declared cheerfully.

    What?

    "It''s really good that you''re going out," she added, relieved. "Have fun, and don''t let Diane drink too much at her first party," she reminded me seriously.

    "Wait," I said, stopping Mom as she headed back to her room. "Aren''t you going to warn me, I don''t know, not to drink or to be responsible?" I asked, frowning.

    "Oh," Mom said, strangely caught off guard, tilting her head back slightly. "Well, you''re you. I didn''t see the need to remind you of something I was sure you were already going to do."

    Even my mother...

    Before I could say anything else, Charlie''s crying from Mom''s room quickly caught her attention, and she walked swiftly toward it. "Mommy''s coming, Charlie!" she exclaimed in a baby voice halfway down the hallway.

    "Hey, Gabe," I said to my brother, who had been sitting with Diane and me.

    "Yeah?" he asked without taking his eyes off the television.

    "I''m a cool guy, right? Fun and stuff?" I asked.

    "Yeah," he answered easily, nodding. Unlike everyone else who had given me the same response, this time, Gabe actually meant it.

    "Thanks, bud," I murmured, patting his shoulder.

    With half an hour left before the agreed time, I got ready, putting on basically what I wore every day¡ªa heterochromatic polo shirt, my pants, and sneakers.

    After finishing five minutes later, I looked at myself in the mirror and remembered what everyone I had asked had told me. Nodding resolutely, knowing I couldn''t choose a better ''look,'' I went to the only person in my house who could help me.

    "What?" Teddy asked, opening her door and letting loud music spill out. Inside, Bianca and Baja, her friends, were lying on her bed reading magazines.

    "Would you help me choose something different to wear?" I asked, pointing at my clothes.

    "Yes," Teddy immediately responded as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life, not even needing to think about it. "Come on," she said excitedly, pushing me toward my room. Her two friends followed shortly after, just as excited.

    Almost immediately, I regretted my decision, but I knew there was no turning back.

    "It''s a party, so you can''t go formal," Teddy said while she and the other two rummaged through my closet.

    Bianca and Baja occasionally pulled out a piece of clothing, showing it to the rest, and within seconds, they reached a consensus. From what I gathered, there were three piles¡ªdefinitely no, maybe, and yes.

    "So this, right?" Teddy asked her friends, pointing at a small set of clothes. After studying me, they nodded slowly. "All right, get dressed," Teddy ordered as she walked out of my room.

    It took my sister a couple of seconds to realize her friends hadn''t followed her. Instead, they stood there, seemingly expecting me to undress in front of them. Obviously, I didn''t. Instead, I looked at them uncomfortably.

    "Really?" Teddy asked incredulously, returning a moment later and dragging her friends out of the room. "He''s my brother," I heard her say in annoyance as she closed the door behind her.

    Sighing in disbelief, I changed into the outfit they had chosen¡ª a shirt, pants, and a pair of shoes London had bought for me but that I had never worn, not finding the right occasion.

    A minute later, I opened my door to find Teddy and her two friends waiting outside.

    "Oh yeah," Teddy nodded proudly. "Just¡ª" she stepped closer and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt, partially revealing my chest. "That''s it," she declared, smiling at her friends, who nodded in agreement.

    Bianca, standing next to Teddy, slowly raised her hand as if trying to touch me. Before I could react, Teddy, completely unfazed, swatted her hand away.

    "Okay," I murmured, confused. "Well, tha¡ª" I was about to thank her, but Teddy interrupted me.

    "Now, accessories and fragrance," she declared, clapping her hands before pushing me back into my room.

    Once again, the three girls started searching through my things.

    "This is the only watch you have?" Teddy asked, looking displeased as she pointed at the watch I had bought for work. It was quite functional.

    "Yeah," I answered, slightly offended by her disgusted expression.

    "I''m going to check Dad''s watches," she said, shaking her head incredulously as she walked out of my room, leaving me alone with her two friends, who were now standing in front of me.

    "So, how are you?" I asked with a smile, feeling slightly uncomfortable after a few seconds.

    Instead of answering, Bianca once again raised her hand, attempting to touch my exposed chest, and once again, before I could stop her, Baja intervened.

    "You have to be strong," Baja reminded Bianca with an oddly concerned tone, completely ignoring my incredulous expression.

    "All right, this is the best I could find," Teddy said as she returned, holding a watch in her hand. "You need to buy more accessories," she added, forcibly grabbing my hand and putting Bob''s watch on my wrist.

    "Well, I think that''s it," Teddy said, stepping back after another couple of minutes, nodding in satisfaction. "Congratulations, girls," she added, smiling formally at her friends.

    "Congratulations," Bianca and Baja echoed at the same time, mimicking Teddy''s formal tone as they shook hands.

    Checking Bob''s watch on my wrist, I realized it was practically the time we had agreed to leave for the party. I really didn''t understand how we had taken so long.

    "Well, thanks, girls," I said playfully, pressing a rough kiss on my sister''s forehead.

    "Ew," Teddy replied, trying to escape my grasp.

    "See you later," I added awkwardly as I let go of my sister and noticed both Bianca and Baja taking a small step forward. Uncomfortable, I quickly left my room.

    After saying goodbye to Gabe, who was still watching TV, I left the house, worried that I was already a few minutes past the agreed time with the girls.

    When I arrived at Meemaw''s house, I was confused to see that Mandela''s truck was still parked on the street. I knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds.

    "Wow, who are you?" Meemaw asked as she opened the door, holding a cup in her hand.

    "I don''t look different," I stated seriously, not amused by the implication in Meemaw''s words.

    "Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Meemaw murmured sarcastically, nodding. "They''re not ready yet, wait there," she said, pointing to the bench on her porch before stepping back inside and closing the door behind her.

    "What?" I asked the closed door. They had been in there for over two hours¡ªwhat could possibly be taking them so long?

    Ten minutes later, my questions faded entirely as I saw Diane step out, now wearing makeup, a short red dress, and a black leather jacket.

    "Hey," Diane said, smiling slightly, looking a little embarrassed, breaking the silence.

    Consider me mesmerized.

    ---

    When translating the chapter, 300 words disappeared, usually it''s 50-60 words when translating from Spanish to English, but this time there were many more, there may be some mistakes in this chapter, when I can I''ll fix them, sorry for that.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps and not Arsene Lupin.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 93

    A little bit of a ''filler''

    Enjoy.

    ---

    "If you don''t close your mouth, you''re going to start drooling," appearing out of nowhere behind Diane with an arrogant smile, Mandela declared, raising her eyebrows after a few seconds of silence.

    Upon hearing the girl''s joke, I instinctively tried to close my mouth, only to realize it had actually been closed from the start.

    "You look fantastic," I said, ignoring Kat''s soft laughter¡ªshe was also behind Diane, along with Mandela. I smiled at Diane, who returned a small smile.

    "Thank you, you also look really handsome," Diane replied with a slight nod, trying to contain a bigger smile.

    "I do what I can," I joked, exaggerating an arrogance I didn''t really deserve.

    "It''s surprising that when you want to, you can actually have some style, Duncan," Mandela commented, studying my outfit with her head tilted, visibly impressed.

    "Yeah, well¡­ I had a little help from Teddy, Bianca, and Baja," I admitted, immediately losing the fake arrogant smile. I knew there was a big chance Bianca would tell Kat what had happened at my house, so there was really no reason to hide it.

    "Oh, now it makes sense," Kat said as she walked around Diane while leaving Meemaw''s house. "The only way you could have such good style is if someone tied it to a brick and threw it at your face."

    "Hey!" I exclaimed, pretending¡ªmaybe not entirely¡ªto be offended. "That might be true, but you didn''t have to say it out loud," I added immediately.

    "A lot of people will be grateful to whoever dressed you," Mandela joked, smiling as she also walked out of the house. "Those long t-shirts you like to wear really hide your physique, Duncan. Don''t they?" she asked, lightly tapping Diane''s shoulder with a significant smile.

    "Yeah, I can see that," Diane replied casually, also studying my shirt. "Although I don''t see any problem with how you normally dress, your clothes certainly hide your muscles," she added with a slight frown, as if analyzing the information.

    "Oh, you still have so much to learn," Kat declared, faking concern while placing a hand on Diane''s shoulder.

    "You really don''t see a problem with the t-shirts Duncan wears?" Mandela asked, incredulous.

    "No, I mean¡­ it''s practical," Diane replied, shrugging softly, visibly confused.

    "That''s what I keep saying," I said cheerfully, pointing at Diane. "You really understand me," I added suddenly, pulling her into a hug.

    Diane, surprised by my actions, kept her head against my chest for just a second before gently wrapping her arms around my torso.

    I didn''t plan to mention it out loud, but as she had her face against my chest, I could feel Diane taking deep breaths, as if she were smelling me.

    "At least wait until the party, where I don''t have to see you and be reminded of how lonely I am," Mandela declared, shaking her head with theatrical sadness.

    "You have me," Kat quickly reminded her, hugging her tightly from the side.

    "Oh yeah, that''s right, I have you," Mandela acknowledged with a rather poor attempt to seem excited, yet she still leaned into Kat''s hug.

    "And me too," Diane added after taking another deep breath. Releasing me from her embrace, she quickly turned to the other two girls, who immediately welcomed her into their hug, leaving me completely aside.

    Despite being "abandoned" by Diane, I felt immense joy seeing her share hugs so effortlessly with Kat and Mandela. It truly made me happy to see her making friends and opening up more to the world.

    "Thanks, guys," Mandela said playfully after a moment in the group hug.

    "As much as I enjoy seeing all this camaraderie, it''s late. Are you ready?" I asked, checking the time on Bob''s watch. It was already almost twenty minutes past the time we had agreed to arrive at the party.

    "We''re going to a high school party, Duncan. People don''t expect you to be on time," Mandela scoffed as she walked backward toward her truck.

    "I know that," I exclaimed, offended. "I just don''t like arriving late," I added in a murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.

    "Whatever, see you there?" I asked Kat, resigned as I saw Mandela ignoring me.

    "Sure," Kat replied, amused. "See you there," she added with a smile toward Diane before following Mandela.

    "Ready?" I asked once Kat had taken a few steps away, raising my hand to invite Diane to take it.

    "Yes," Diane answered with a cheerful smile, taking my hand.

    "I don''t know if I made myself clear earlier, but whoever is going with you to this party is a lucky dog. You look absolutely beautiful," I said, joking as we walked to my car, hand in hand.

    "Yes, I think he''s really lucky," Diane replied, squeezing my hand and slightly raising an eyebrow with a small smile.

    "I might even have to fight him to be able to spend some time with you," I joked with a falsely defeated sigh.

    "I''m sorry, but I don''t think you would win," Diane responded, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling, with fake pity. "He''s really strong. I''ve seen him fight before."

    "Really?" I asked with curiosity as we reached my car. I walked over to the passenger side to open the door for her, but before Diane could answer, a voice interrupted us.

    "What are you talking about?" Georgie asked, appearing out of nowhere behind us.

    "What the¡ª" I exclaimed, startled, instinctively pulling Diane behind me. "Georgie, don''t ever do that again, man," I added seriously, raising my fist in front of my face, slightly embarrassed.

    "Shut up!" Georgie said anxiously, immediately bringing a finger to his lips in concern, checking toward his house.

    Dressed like some action movie protagonist of the moment and heavily perfumed, it was obvious Georgie was sneaking out of his house to come to the party with us. Knowing his mother, he probably hadn''t even bothered to ask for permission.

    "How long have you been hiding there?" I asked, sighing and shaking my head, amused.

    "A really long time," Georgie replied, nodding slightly, oddly proud of himself.

    Pausing for a few seconds to process the idea of Georgie hiding in the bushes, I finally said, "All right, get in," frankly impressed by my friend''s resilience as I adjusted the passenger seat so he could climb in the back.

    "Why was he hiding there?" Diane asked, puzzled as she watched Georgie get into the car. "Is he sneaking out of his house?" she added with interest.

    "Yup," I responded casually while readjusting the seat.

    "Oh," murmuring and nodding slightly, apparently processing the information, Diane took a quick glance at the Cooper house for a second before shrugging and getting into the passenger seat.

    After carefully closing the door, I walked to the other side and got in. Georgie''s cologne, which had already been quite noticeable before he got in, turned into a mild torture in the confined space. It didn''t take a full minute before Diane and I rolled down the windows to let the air flow.

    Other than that, with music from one of Diane''s chosen CDs, the ride to the party went smoothly.

    Several minutes later, when we arrived in the neighborhood¡ªa middle-class area¡ªwe immediately spotted the house where the party was taking place.

    With poorly parked cars scattered across the surprisingly large yard, people drinking and moving to the rhythm of the music, and windows flashing with colorful lights, I parked my car across the street.

    "See you inside," I told Georgie after parking, patting his shoulder once he got out of the back seat.

    "I''ll be busy," Georgie said with an arrogant smile, raising an eyebrow before confidently striding across the street.

    Watching my friend greet everyone he passed¡ªmost of them ignoring him¡ªI chuckled as I closed my car door and walked to the other side, where Diane had already gotten out.

    "Are you all right?" I asked, seeing Diane study the lively house with a completely serious expression, leaning carefully against my car.

    "Yes," Diane answered seriously, without taking her eyes off the house.

    "If you''re not comfortable, we can leave. No one will blame you," I assured her calmly, squeezing her arm gently. "We can always go to another party in the future, when you feel ready."

    "Oh, I''m ready," Diane said, holding my hand that was still on her arm. Returning her attention to me with a small smile, she assured me, "I was just comparing it to the parties and galas I''ve attended," nodding toward the house.

    "What are the biggest comparisons?" I asked, amused, imagining the kind of "parties" Diane was talking about.

    "Well, for starters, there are people my age here," Diane quickly replied with a small smile, thinking for a second about my question. "The noise, in this case, comes from music and not from people arguing about academics," she continued, shrugging her shoulders.

    "Those sound like really fun parties," I declared sarcastically. They were exactly what I imagined they would be.

    "Not really," Diane said, shaking her head thoughtfully, not noticing the irony in my statement. "I would say they were more of a show-off gathering; most of the time, it was about proving you had more achievements than the other," she explained, nodding gently.

    "Well, sounds like there are some similarities between this party and that one," I murmured, tentatively moving my head as I recalled the few¡ªalmost nonexistent¡ªtimes I had attended parties.

    "Really?" Diane asked. "I''d really like to see that," she added, seemingly intrigued from a scientific perspective. After I nodded at her first question, Diane turned her attention back to the party.

    "Okay," I said amusedly. "Are you ready then?" I asked once more, raising my hand.

    "Yeah," Diane said, nodding as she took my hand confidently.

    "Let''s go then," I said, curious to see how Diane would react to the party up close. I walked alongside her, following the same path George had taken.

    As I walked next to Diane, studying her face and how she observed everything with a spark of interest in her eyes, I thought¡ªonly for a full second¡ªthat coming to the party hadn''t been such a bad idea after all.

    "Duncan!" Suddenly, an obviously drunk teenager with nothing covering his torso shouted incredulously, grabbing my shoulder.

    The guy''s¡ªsomeone I didn''t recognize at all¡ªshout caught the attention of many people around us. More than one, who were also surprisingly intoxicated, shouted just as excitedly upon seeing me.

    "Hey... you," I said, smiling politely as I slowly removed the first guy''s hand from my shoulder.

    "Oh yeah, sorry," the guy said, realizing he had held onto my shoulder for too long. Despite being drunk, he waved his hand as he spoke. "I can''t believe you actually came to my party," he added, stepping back in a strangely concerned manner.

    So this was Jake Thompson.

    "I must be incredible at throwing parties if even you showed up," Jake declared excitedly, raising a disposable cup and spilling half of his drink on the floor in the process.

    "Yeah, that''s totally the reason I came," I responded to the drunk teenager, nodding while keeping a completely serious expression.

    Knowing that this was his house, seeing the state he was in, and how he was chugging the rest of his drink without any control, I felt relieved knowing that Jake wouldn''t be driving¡ªnot just for his own safety, but for the safety of everyone else in Medford.

    "Great," Jake said, grinning cheerfully. "There''s a lot of beer and drinks, help yourself," he added, patting my shoulder before continuing on his unsteady path.

    "Was he your friend?" Diane asked, confused. "You''ve never mentioned a Jake before," she added, explaining the reason for her question.

    "I think it''s the first time I''ve met the guy," I answered, shrugging and trying not to smile.

    "Well, then that was interesting," Diane declared, nodding slowly. "He seemed pretty excited to see you, just like those other four guys."

    "That''s the alcohol," I corrected her with a sigh.

    I knew I was relatively ''famous'' among the people at school, basically a monthly source of gossip in the hallways, but I had no intention of clarifying that to Diane.

    "Okay," Diane murmured, tilting her head slightly before continuing to walk toward the house, pulling me along by the hand.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    As we walked through the house''s large front yard, I immediately noticed how several eyes focused on Diane and me. Right after that, I saw the birth of a new rumor unfolding.

    At the very least, I hoped Diane wouldn''t notice...

    "Why are they looking at us so surprised?" Diane asked, puzzled.

    "It''s because you look so beautiful," I said easily, quickly finding the correct answer.

    "Stop," Diane said, pretending to be exasperated as she gently pushed her shoulder against my arm, a contained smile on her face.

    "What? It''s the truth," I continued, growing increasingly uninterested in the stares around us, playing along with Diane as we made our way into the party.

    Upon entering the house¡ªwhich, like the front yard, was quite large¡ªwe were met with more teenagers drinking and nodding their heads to the loud music blasting inside. Some heads turned in surprise upon seeing Diane and me enter, but I quickly ignored them¡ªor at least I tried to.

    Knowing Kat, I figured my friend and, therefore, possibly the rest of my friends would be wherever the music was the loudest.

    "There''s not a single waiter," Diane said, rising onto the tips of her toes as she spoke as close to my ear as possible while I guided her through the house, despite not knowing exactly where I was going.

    "No, there isn''t," I answered, amused as I stopped and lowered my head next to her ear.

    "I like the music," Diane said, taking advantage of our closeness. Facing me, she took my other hand and began to dance softly.

    I was quite surprised at how well Diane was handling the party atmosphere. Without a hint of embarrassment, she kept a small smile on her face while looking at me intently. She continued dancing in the middle of the ''dance floor''¡ªwhich was actually Jake''s living room.

    Still impressed, I watched her as she continued dancing in front of me. The music pulsed around us, the lights flashed in sync with the rhythm, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away as Diane danced with her eyes closed.

    "Aren''t you going to dance?" Diane asked, opening her eyes after what felt like hours. Smiling, she moved closer to me curiously, still swaying.

    "If that makes you happy," I said, pretending to give in before quickly pulling Diane closer to me. Amused, I started moving along with her.

    Diane, who at first seemed slightly forced to move with me, surprisingly adjusted quickly, dancing in sync with me and laughing cheerfully.

    Without realizing it, I was no longer too worried about the curious gazes around us or what they might be whispering. At that moment, only Diane and her bright smile held my attention.

    "Ah, I can''t believe it! PJ Duncan is dancing! And enjoying it!"

    Beside us, seemingly out of nowhere, Mandela and Kat¡ªwho had a slight sheen of sweat on her face, obviously from dancing, and was holding a disposable cup¡ªstood next to us.

    "You''ve seen me dance," I said to Kat, pretending to be offended as I raised my arms.

    "That was so long ago that it''s like it never happened," Kat immediately responded, shrugging while continuing to move to the music. She was visibly enjoying the party.

    "Nobody cares about that," Mandela exclaimed sarcastically, dancing dramatically toward Diane. "The real question is¡ªare you having fun?" she added, smiling at Diane.

    "Yeah, you''re right," Kat agreed, also focusing on Diane.

    "Yes," Diane answered after a few seconds of contemplation. She seemed surprised by her own response. "I''m having fun," she added with more certainty.

    That was good.

    "Great," Mandela commented excitedly, dancing next to Diane.

    "Aren''t you thirsty?" Kat asked a moment later, noticing the slight sheen of sweat on Diane''s face.

    Diane shrugged slightly and nodded casually. "What are you drinking?" she asked, pointing at the cup Kat was holding.

    "Beer," Kat immediately replied, handing her cup to Diane so she could try it.

    And before I could do anything to stop Diane from drinking alcohol...

    "It doesn''t taste good," Diane said after taking a small sip.

    Good.

    "But it''s refreshing," she added a second later, taking another sip.

    "I''m pretty sure there''s water or soda in the kitchen. Wouldn''t you rather have that?" I asked Diane, slightly concerned. I figured it wasn''t really a problem if she wanted to try alcohol¡ªI wasn''t going to drink a single drop, so I could keep an eye on her, and I was going to take her home anyway.

    "I want to experience the full teenage experience," Diane replied with scientific seriousness.

    "All right, so let me get you and Kat another drink," I said after calculating everything that could go wrong¡ªthere really wasn''t much. "What about you, Mandela?" I asked, hoping she wasn''t drinking, or I''d have to drive her truck.

    "Just some soda, please," Mandela responded immediately, unknowingly relieving my concern.

    Nodding in farewell, I moved through the crowd, searching for the kitchen in the spacious house. Once I found it, greeting those who recognized me, I poured the drinks and turned to head back.

    A few steps away from the kitchen door, pressed against the wall, I recognized my friend David completely absorbed in kissing a girl who, in fact, had him pinned against the wall.

    Good for him, I guess.

    As I left the kitchen with the three cups in my hands, I lightly kicked one of my friend''s feet as a greeting, obviously receiving no response.

    "Karen Smith," I murmured to myself, impressed by my friend as I walked out of the kitchen.

    He, Brock, and Georgie, ever since the days when I was dating Regina and we all sat together at the same table, had always tried to impress the ''innocent'' Karen. It seemed that David had somehow succeeded.

    Diane, Kat, and Mandela, dancing without a care, left me in charge of their drinks on one of the living room couches. As I watched Diane laugh and dance, time passed.

    At a certain moment, as if synchronized, the three girls stopped and approached me.

    "We''re going to the bathroom," Diane said, pointing at herself and slightly slurring her words. It was surprising because she had really only drunk one full cup of beer and a few sips from Kat''s cup.

    "All right," I responded, nodding in amusement. I didn''t know why they were all going together, but thinking about it, it was much better than letting Diane go on her own.

    "Stay here," Diane said seriously, surprisingly leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

    "Don''t move," she added, softly tapping my nose and smiling widely before walking off with her friends.

    Yeah, no more beer for Diane.

    Shaking my head in amusement as I watched the three girls dance their way out of the living room, I completely ignored it when someone sat beside me.

    "I thought you were dating Stratford," a suddenly honeyed voice whispered directly into my ear.

    "Regina," I exclaimed, startled by how close someone had gotten into my personal space.

    I suppose that if Karen was at the party, it made sense that Regina would be here too. I''d bet a good amount of money that Gretchen was somewhere around as well.

    "Hey, PJ," Regina greeted me with an oddly arrogant smile.

    "Hello," I replied, shifting away from her on the couch¡ªshe was practically leaning on my arm.

    "So, if you weren''t dating Stratford, who was she?" Regina asked, pointing in the direction where Diane and the girls had left.

    From the time I had spent with Regina and her friends, I knew they enjoyed gossiping about other people. I had never asked, but I was pretty sure she knew gossip or at least rumors about everyone in school.

    So, of course, she was curious about Diane.

    "Like I told you before, Regina, Kat and I are just friends," I said calmly.

    "Really?" Regina asked, stretching out her arm to rest her head on her hand, inadvertently leaning closer to me again.

    She was good, but I could see through her.

    I had heard from my friends'' conversations in the cafeteria and during my little crusade against bullying about some of the things Regina had done to other people. Despite that, when I asked a couple of people¡ªother than Kat, who had a strong dislike for Regina¡ªthey seemed to worship the ground she walked on.

    "Yes, but ''her'' is Diane Adler, my girlfriend," I said seriously, once again shifting away on the couch.

    "Diane Adler?" Regina asked, puzzled. "What grade is she in?" she added immediately, clearly not recognizing the name.

    "She''s from East Texas Tech," I replied easily with a smile. I was going to avoid correcting whatever idea Regina was forming in her head.

    Was Diane our age? Yes. Was she also a university student? Kind of.

    "East Texas Tech," Regina repeated, tilting her head as she observed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I could see her mind working, trying to fit this new information into her elaborate mental map of gossip and social connections.

    "Interesting," she murmured, leaning back a little more on the couch, her smile barely perceptible.

    I didn''t respond. I let the silence linger between us as I took a sip of my water, pretending her presence didn''t make me uncomfortable.

    "And how did you two meet?" she finally asked, her tone falsely casual.

    Before I could respond, a loud and exaggerated laugh interrupted anything I might have said. I looked up just in time to see Diane, Kat, and Mandela, still laughing, with Kat and Mandela openly sending hateful glares at Regina beside me.

    Diane saw me and immediately smiled, making her way toward me with that natural ease that characterized her. Surprisingly, and before I could say anything, she dropped down beside me¡ªpractically on my lap¡ªwithout noticing, or perhaps without caring, that Regina was there, hugging my neck and kissing me.

    This was new... not necessarily bad, but definitely new.

    "Did you miss me?" Diane asked, barely pulling back a couple of inches from my face.

    "What?" I murmured, still processing what had just happened.

    "Dummy," Diane huffed, giving me another small kiss.

    "So, you must be Diane," Regina said forcefully drawing Diane''s attention, her tone attempting to sound friendly, accompanied by a smile I could immediately recognize as completely fake.

    "Ah yes, I''m sorry, who are you?" Diane asked with an equally polite smile, though I could tell it was just as fake.

    I had no idea what was happening, but I could feel the tension between them growing, like a spark about to ignite a fire. Kat, standing next to Mandela, crossed her arms, and judging by how white her knuckles were, she was more than ready to start a fight.

    "Regina, seriously, it was nice seeing you, but we were in the middle of something," I quickly blurted out, interrupting before anything could escalate beyond vicious glares¡ªeven though, I had to admit, it was really interesting to see this new side of Diane.

    Regina looked at me, pretending to be hurt.

    "Oh, of course, I wouldn''t want to interrupt," she said with a sweetness that was obviously fake. Then, she stood up, smoothing her skirt with almost theatrical grace. "See you, PJ. Danielle."

    She turned and disappeared into the crowd without looking back.

    "It''s Diane," Diane muttered through gritted teeth, frowning as she stared at Regina vanishing into the small crowd of people.

    I let out a breath I hadn''t realized I was holding.

    "So that''s Regina George," Diane added, turning her attention back to me once Regina was gone.

    "Yes," I replied immediately.

    "She''s pretty," Diane commented, pressing her lips together, trying to sound casual¡ªbut with her, it was sometimes pretty easy to recognize a lie.

    I didn''t know how to respond.

    Fortunately, I didn''t have to.

    "That was awesome!" Mandela exclaimed excitedly as she approached the couch along with Kat, who was still keeping an eye on where Regina had exited.

    "You were right, it did feel pretty good," Diane admitted, smiling at her friend.

    I huffed out a quiet laugh, still feeling the lingering tension in my shoulders. "Well, whatever that was, let''s not make a habit of it, please."

    Diane turned her head to look at me, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, come on. Admit it, you liked it, I can tell" Diane added, gently biting her lip while still hugging my neck.

    Closing my mouth, since I really didn''t want to lie, I lowered my head slightly in defeat.

    "I really don''t like her," Kat said, narrowing her eyes as she grabbed the drink I had been holding onto for her and took a sip.

    "Me neither," Mandela agreed.

    "She looks like a movie villain," Diane added, finally letting go of my neck but keeping her head on my shoulder as she turned her attention back to her friends.

    It was interesting to see Diane having a completely normal conversation for a girl her age.

    "Bah, whatever. Let''s go dance. I need to get Regina''s stupid face out of my head," Kat said, suddenly standing up and dragging Mandela with her, who followed without complaint.

    "So... jealousy, that''s new," I said teasingly, wrapping my arms around Diane.

    "I wasn''t jealous," Diane said quickly, lifting her head from my shoulder. "I was just, and I quote Mandela, ''showing Regina who''s boss.''" She declared proudly.

    "''Showing who''s boss''?" I asked, pleasantly surprised. There wasn''t even a hint of embarrassment in Diane''s statement.

    "Yes," Diane responded, nodding firmly. "Besides, I wanted to kiss you. I really like you," she added after taking another sip of her drink.

    "Well, thanks for that. I really like you too," I said, amused.

    Maybe a drunk Diane isn''t that bad.

    After that, Diane dragged me along once again, and I followed without issue, dancing right in front of the couch. I knew alcohol had different effects on different people, but for Diane, it was more than obvious that it completely erased her sense of shame. As we danced, she constantly pulled me in to kiss her¡ªsomething that, despite our ''agreement'' about public displays of affection, I happily went along with.

    Strangely, while we were dancing among the partygoers, more than once, seemingly drunk people almost crashed into Diane with full drinks in their hands. Fortunately, since I hadn''t had a single drop of alcohol, I was able to avoid it every time.

    Despite that, we had fun until my friends got tired.

    Georgie, who had disappeared since the start of the night, eventually reappeared along with David, whose lips were completely swollen¡ªundoubtedly a result of his night with Karen.

    "This was a great night," David declared, plopping down next to me with a goofy grin.

    "Looks like you were having fun," I said, amused.

    "Oh, PJ, you have no idea," David responded, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

    Not much later, all my friends and I left the party. Kat, David, and Georgie got into Mandela''s truck, while Diane and I left alone in my car.

    Diane, who was still slightly drunk in the passenger seat, remained silent the entire ride home, simply listening to music and staring at the side of my face.

    It was a bit distracting since she had a small smile fixed on her face while she played with and stroked my arm.

    "We''re here," I said upon arriving in front of my house after parking my car. Mandela''s truck was parked in front of Meemaw''s house, completely empty¡ªI had no idea where Georgie and David had gone.

    "I really, really like you," Diane, who hadn''t said a single word during the ride, suddenly said.

    "I really like you too," I replied amused, gently leaning in to kiss her cheek. Diane simply closed her eyes, possibly expecting a kiss.

    "No, you don''t understand," Diane slowly opened her eyes after not receiving the kiss. "I have dreams about you," she added, laughing softly. "Really wild dreams," she said, opening her eyes wider.

    Okay.

    "I love those dreams," Diane added, tilting her head with longing.

    Unable to help myself, I laughed softly, resting my face on my hand. At that moment, I was quite happy I had gone to the party.

    "Don''t laugh, I''m telling you the truth," Diane said, frowning slightly, her words carrying a hint of pain.

    "I''m sorry, I''m not laughing at you," I quickly said, gently caressing Diane''s face.

    "Ah, ok then," Diane said, pushing her face softly against my hand and closing her eyes.

    In silence, watching Diane nuzzle against my hand, we remained in my car for a few minutes.

    "Come on, let me take you home," I finally said, having made sure to engrave the vision before me into my memory.

    "I don''t want to," Diane said immediately, opening her eyes. "I want you," she added after a few moments of staring at me.

    "Sorry?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yeah," she murmured, shifting in her seat toward me. "I want one of those dreams to be real," she added, moving onto my seat, sitting on one of my legs, and wrapping her arms around my neck. "We were in your car, like this," Diane narrated, pulling her face away from my neck and pressing her nose against mine. "I kissed you right here," she continued, lightly playing with her finger before pointing at my neck.

    "Diane," I murmured weakly, unable to stop myself from enjoying what was happening.

    "And you held me here," ignoring me, Diane continued, taking my hands and placing them on her waist. "Just like this," she said, biting her lip slightly as she lowered her face to my neck. "You smell incredibly good," she murmured before starting to kiss my neck.

    I was really enjoying what was happening, to be honest, but...

    "Okay," I said after a moment, pulling Diane away with all my moral strength.

    "You don''t want this?" Diane asked, concerned.

    "Oh no, I REALLY want this," I said immediately, pointing at her and then at myself. "But you''re drunk right now, and that''s not the way it should be," I added seriously.

    "But I really want it now," Diane murmured, resting her head against my chest.

    "Me too, but later, I promise," I reassured both her and myself as I stroked her back. "Diane?" I added a moment later when I received no response.

    Somehow, she had fallen completely asleep against my chest.

    "Great," I murmured snorting, opening my door and stepping out of the car with Diane in my arms¡ªshe was practically weightless.

    I carried Diane to Meemaw''s door, which I slowly opened.

    Inside the house, with strange tubes on her head, Meemaw was sitting in the living room, drinking what seemed to be tea while watching TV.

    "Aces," Meemaw said with a completely serious face. "I thought I was done with this when Mary moved out," she huffed, slowly standing up. "Come on," she added, motioning for me to follow her with her hand.

    Meemaw led me to Diane''s room, where Kat and Mandela were, just like Diane, completely asleep, cuddled together on Diane''s bed.

    "Let me take that off," Meemaw said, removing Diane''s shoes and then her jacket. "Lay her down," she ordered, pointing to a small space next to the two girls.

    After tucking in Diane, Kat, and Mandela, Meemaw pushed me out of the room.

    "Did she have fun?" Meemaw asked as we walked to the front door of her house.

    "Yes," I replied immediately.

    "Did you drink?"

    "No."

    "Not a single drop?"

    "Not a single drop."

    "All right, go home. I need to sleep," Meemaw said, pushing me out of her house. A second later, she shut the door behind me.

    "Good night," I said to the closed door before walking to my house.

    "Hey champ, had fun?" Bob asked as I entered. He had likely been waiting for me to get home, watching TV in complete silence in the living room.

    "Yes, Dad," I replied, stretching my neck.

    "Good. Your friends are in your room¡ªdon''t wake your mother up early tomorrow," Bob warned, pointing his finger.

    "Don''t worry," I huffed, amused upon discovering where Georgie and David had ended up.

    "Good night, then," Bob said, yawning as he turned off the TV.

    "Night."

    Overall, I was quite happy that the party had gone so well for Diane¡ªit had been a good night.

    At least, that''s what I thought¡ªuntil the next day when we found out that someone had died in a car accident.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin and not McLovin.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.

    PS2: There are some mistakes in the last chapter, I''ll try to fix them right now, but the main thing is, the fights, they weren''t really ''this'' weekend but the next one, I need to correct that conversation with Case.

 Daily Drama - Chapter 94

    Again a ''filler'' chapter, really what happens is that I didn''t have much time to write and this chapter was supposed to be 8/9k words, but I decided to cut it in two.

    Without further ado (see you next week).

    Enjoy.

    ---

    After saying goodbye to Bob, I entered my room and found my friends lying on the floor, talking quietly.

    "Hey," I greeted softly, as I could hear Gabe¡¯s gentle snores. I lightly kicked the leg of one of my two friends on the floor as I passed by to turn on my small night lamp.

    "You''re not going to guess what," Georgie murmured, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he lifted his head once there was a source of light in the room.

    "I was with Karen Smith," David said, with obvious pride in his voice.

    "No way, really?" I asked, feigning surprise while taking off my shirt. I had actually seen them at the party. "I don¡¯t believe you," I added as I changed into my pajamas.

    "That''s what I said," Georgie whispered, dropping his head back onto the makeshift pillow on the floor.

    "Well, I did, and I can prove it," David said, annoyed but still keeping his voice low.

    "Oh, don¡¯t worry about it, man. I''m sure you did," I said with exaggerated condescension, mocking my friend.

    "Seeing is believing," Georgie declared ironically.

    "I''m telling the truth," David stated, raising his hands in exasperation. "And besides that, it seems to me that you''re talking a lot for someone who spent the party alone," he whispered a second later, with an edge to his voice, trying to throw the joke back at Georgie.

    "Who said I didn¡¯t?" Georgie declared, surprisingly confident in his words. "It''s just that a true gentleman doesn¡¯t kiss and tell, right, PJ?" he added.

    "Yeah," I replied, genuinely surprised by the maturity my friend was showing. After finishing changing and tossing my dirty clothes into the room¡¯s laundry basket, I turned off the small lamp again.

    "Georgie, aren¡¯t you supposed to be sleeping in your own room right now?" I asked while lying in my bed.

    "Yeah, but don¡¯t worry. Mom doesn¡¯t check my room until it''s time to go to church, and I haven''t left yet. I just need to wake up early and sneak back into the house, pretending I came from my room," Georgie answered effortlessly, clearly having planned everything in advance.

    "All right," I murmured, nodding slightly.

    Surprisingly, Georgie actually woke up ''early'' to leave for his house the next day. He may have received a little help from me when I _accidentally_ kicked his feet, but despite that, Georgie headed home.

    The next morning, after returning from my morning run, David was watching TV alongside Gabe in the living room, completely entranced by the cartoons, just like my brother.

    "Hey, do you want me to take you home, or do you prefer to watch Bugs Bunny a little longer?" I asked, tapping my friend¡¯s shoulder to snap him out of his trance.

    "What?" David asked, startled, turning his face completely clueless at my question.

    "Nothing," I sighed. "I''ll just take a shower and then drive you home," I added, amused.

    "Good, thanks," David replied immediately, returning his attention to the TV a moment later.

    Fortunately, David didn¡¯t live far from my house. In just a few minutes, I dropped him off in his yard and was back home.

    As I got out of my car and checked my watch, I noticed that even though it was still early, Diane was probably already awake. I was curious about how she was feeling after her adventure with alcohol the night before.

    When I arrived at Meemaw¡¯s house, after knocking on the door, the woman who owned the house¡ªalready dressed for her day, likely prepared for church¡ªopened the door with a smile.

    "Aces, just the guy I was looking for," Meemaw said playfully, motioning for me to come inside. "You''re going to love this," she added with a chuckle, leading me through her house to the living room.

    In the living room, Diane was lying on Meemaw¡¯s couch with her eyes closed. Unlike the night before, she was now wearing pajamas¡ªan oversized T-shirt and shorts.

    "How are you feeling now, sweetheart?" Meemaw asked, raising her voice slightly.

    "Not so loud," Diane pleaded, rubbing the side of her head. "My head is still killing me," she added a second later, keeping her eyes tightly shut.

    "I can¡¯t get enough of this," Meemaw huffed, shaking her head in amusement with her arms crossed.

    "I will never drink again," Diane groaned, shifting painfully on the couch and curling up into a ball, hugging her legs.

    "That''s what everybody says," Meemaw declared sarcastically. "Heck, that¡¯s what _I_ say every time I drink¡ªand I have a date today to drink with my bowling team," she added with a grin.

    "No, I mean it. I won¡¯t drink again," Diane said, still with her eyes closed. "I understand that it''s a sociocultural construct, but I don¡¯t see the appeal in losing control of your senses. I mean¡ª"

    "Really?" I asked, amused, interrupting Diane¡¯s speech and surprising her. She had obviously ignored my presence. "Last night, you seemed to enjoy the ¡®sociocultural construct¡¯ quite a bit."

    "PJ," Diane said, opening her eyes. "When did you get here?" she asked a moment later, slightly sitting up on the couch.

    "Not long ago," I replied, amused. "Are you feeling really bad?" I asked gently, sitting beside her on the couch.

    "Yeah," Diane immediately answered, resting her head on my arm. "I have all the symptoms of _veisalgia_."

    "A what?" Meemaw asked, puzzled, still standing a few steps away from the couch.

    "Hangover," I explained, amused.

    "Oh," Meemaw said, nodding. "Yeah, this is definitely a hangover," she added cheerfully.

    "You just need some water and to take it easy today," I said, gently rubbing Diane¡¯s arm.

    "I''ll get her some water," Meemaw said, checking her watch. "It''s almost time to head to church."

    "Thanks, Meemaw," Diane murmured, lifting her head from my arm.

    With Meemaw out of the room, Diane, seemingly forcing her eyes to stay open, studied me closely. For some reason, a moment later, she frowned, looking strangely annoyed.

    "You look pristine," Diane said, pointing at me. "How?" she asked incredulously a moment later.

    "Pristine?" I asked, amused. "Well, thanks."

    "No, really. How do you look so refreshed?" Diane asked, with a hint of frustration in her voice.

    "Well, the oxygenation in my brain thanks to morning exercise could be a factor," I explained calmly. "There¡¯s also the release of neurotransmitters," I added with a shrug.

    "Exercise?" Diane asked incredulously, slightly widening her eyes.

    "Well, yeah, you know that¡ªevery morning," I reminded her, confused.

    "Yeah, I know. It''s just that since I took a bath a couple of hours ago, I¡¯ve been lying on this same couch without moving," Diane said slowly. "I can¡¯t imagine wanting to do any physical activity."

    "Here you go, honey," Meemaw said, returning to the room and handing Diane a glass of water.

    "Thanks, Meemaw," Diane said, quickly taking the glass and drinking its contents.

    "Don''t mention it," Meemaw said dismissively, waving her hands. "Now, I''m heading to church. Don¡¯t do anything I wouldn¡¯t do," she ordered sternly, raising a finger. "Or anything I _would_ do, either," she added a second later, shaking her head.

    "All right... have fun?" I said, tilting my head, unsure if my farewell was appropriate.

    "I''ll try," Meemaw replied with a shrug, not sounding convinced at all, before turning on her heels and walking out of the house.

    Shortly after Meemaw left, with Diane resting against my shoulder, we remained silent for a couple of minutes.

    "You should take a nap... in your bed," I said softly, feeling Diane¡¯s breathing slow against my shoulder.

    "But I''m so comfortable here. It''s nice," Diane murmured, shifting her head against my shoulder.

    "Yeah, I''ve been told I have nice shoulders," I joked. "Come on, let''s get you to your bed," I added, slowly standing up, with Diane still clinging to my arm.

    "No," Diane whined, dragging out the word with a pained voice.

    "You''ll feel better after a good nap," I said, supporting Diane as we walked to her room. "So good that you''ll ask me to go for a run."

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "No, I won¡¯t," Diane immediately said, looking at me as if I had said something absurd.

    "I know," I sighed, stepping into the room.

    "All right," I said gently, settling Diane onto her bed.

    "Don''t go," Diane said, lying on her hand, pouting slightly.

    "Sure," I replied casually, taking a seat beside her on the bed.

    Immediately, Diane¡ªmomentarily dropping her pained expression¡ªsmiled slightly and rested her head on my leg.

    "I don¡¯t mean to offend you, but... are you manipulating me?" I asked, amused, gently stroking the side of her face.

    "Yes," Diane answered nonchalantly, rolling onto my leg to face me.

    "All right," I sighed, amused.

    "I do have a headache, and I don''t even remember part of last night. Me! I remember everything," she added, narrowing her eyes in annoyance.

    "You don''t?" I asked, disappointed.

    "I remember dancing, and I remember very well the taste of the beer," Diane admitted with a hint of disgust on her face. "After that, I have a vague memory of being carried to this very bed," she added, narrowing her eyes, seemingly doubting the memory.

    "Yes, that did happen," I responded with a smile.

    "It''s my first time, you know?" Diane murmured after a few seconds of silence. "Not remembering something," she added a moment later.

    "Welcome to the mortal world," I declared sarcastically. "But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. You didn''t say anything compromising," I assured her.

    "Compromising?" Diane asked, confused.

    "Well, sometimes, when people get drunk, they lose all sense of discretion," I explained slowly.

    "I understand," Diane said, nodding. "But I don''t think I have anything embarrassing to say, even without inhibitions," she added a second later, pressing her jaw.

    "Really?" I asked maliciously.

    "Yes," Diane replied confidently. "I am what you would call ''an open book,''" she added with a bit of pride in her voice.

    "I''m so glad to hear that," I declared playfully, raising my eyebrows. "Now you should take a nap," I added seriously, "and I sincerely hope you have really nice dreams," I said in the deepest voice I could, leaning in until I was just inches from Diane''s face.

    "Wh-what?" Diane asked, comically widening her eyes.

    "Oh, nothing, just wishing you sweet dreams," I replied, unable to hold back a wide smile as I quickly kissed her nose.

    With narrowed eyes, unable to see through my little lie, Diane shrugged nonchalantly, moving her head off my leg and burying her face in her pillow.

    Not long after, Diane was sound asleep, allowing me to silently leave Meemaw''s house and head back home.

    "Hey, Bud," I said, greeting Gabe, who was still watching TV in the living room.

    "Hey," my brother replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

    "I was thinking we could go do something today if you want to," I said, sitting next to Gabe on the couch and placing my hand on his head. "We can go eat burgers, just you and me¡­ and Charlie, if she wants to come," I added a second later, jokingly.

    From the laughter and music coming from Teddy''s room, I was sure she was still with her friends.

    "Really?" Gabe asked, incredulous. "You''re not going out with Diane today?"

    "Sometimes I just want to hang out with my little brother," I said, pushing his head away, pretending to be offended.

    "Yeah, sure," Gabe scoffed, shaking his head. "She probably got bored of you, and that''s why you have nothing to do."

    "Hey, I have feelings, remember?" I asked, placing a hand over my chest, surprised by his relaxed statement. "But yeah, maybe she did get bored of me, so I thought¡­ who¡¯s the second-best person to hang out with?" I added, raising my hands.

    With a skeptical look, Gabe turned his attention away from the TV to stare at me.

    "But Alan is somewhere being a mysterious guy," I quickly added. "So I thought, the third-best? But Brock is in Boston¡ª"

    "Shut up," Gabe interrupted, practically throwing himself at my ribs.

    "Uh, I was just joking," I said, laughing as I covered my torso from my brother¡¯s quick punches. "Obviously, the second-best option is Charlie," I added, unable to stop laughing.

    "Wow, my boys are so cheerful this morning," Mom said from the hallway, appearing behind us with an unusually quiet Charlie in her arms. "Good morning," she added, kissing Gabe on the head while I still held him in a firm hug, preventing him from moving.

    "Good morning, Mom. Charlie," I replied, smiling at her as she kissed my head as well.

    "Aren''t you going to have breakfast with Diane?" Mom asked curiously while rocking Charlie in her arms.

    "She got bored of him," Gabe quickly said, still struggling¡ªor at least trying to struggle¡ªagainst my grip.

    "She''s just tired from the party," I explained calmly, not really using much strength on Gabe but keeping him completely at my mercy.

    "You guys didn¡¯t get home too late, did you?" Mom asked, concerned.

    "No, Diane wanted to experience drinking at a party," I said, pressing my lips together. "Nothing irresponsible, I promise," I quickly assured her, raising my hands as I saw her completely serious expression.

    "Did you drink?" Mom asked slowly.

    "Of course not, I was the driver," I replied immediately.

    "Okay, just don¡¯t make a habit of it," Mom said after a few seconds of silence, warning me.

    "I wasn¡¯t planning on it," I replied, nodding.

    "All right, give me a hand," Mom said, quickly changing her attitude and smiling as she handed Charlie to me. "I¡¯ll go make breakfast."

    "Hello," I said softly as I took Charlie in my arms. The little baby silently studied my face, completely uninterested in being passed around.

    "Can we have bacon and pancakes for breakfast?" Gabe asked, now sitting at the other end of the couch since I had let him go.

    "Sure," Mom replied immediately.

    "Do you want to go eat burgers with Gabe and me, Charlie?" I asked my little sister seriously, holding my arms out in front of me.

    Once again, Charlie remained completely uninterested, silently sucking on her hand while staring at me.

    "I¡¯ll take that as a no," I said, nodding in defeat.

    "Can she even eat burgers?" Gabe asked, confused.

    "I¡¯ll give her one if she wants," I replied jokingly.

    Several minutes passed before Bob also came out of his room. After greeting us and kissing Charlie on the forehead, he helped Mom make breakfast for everyone.

    "How was the party?" Teddy asked later at the dining table while we were all eating, including her friends.

    "Pretty fun," I replied honestly. "Diane enjoyed it."

    "That¡¯s it?" Teddy asked incredulously after a few seconds. "What did you guys do? What did you see? Did anything interesting happen?" she asked, exasperated.

    "I mean, we danced, and we came back home," I answered, slightly lost at her questions.

    For some reason, my response was funny to Teddy¡¯s friends and Mom.

    "I can¡¯t believe it," Teddy murmured, throwing her hands up. "Did you really go to this party?"

    "Yes, I did," I replied. "I don¡¯t understand what you expect me to say," I admitted, defeated.

    "Don¡¯t waste your breath, Teddy. Your dad was the same. If it wasn¡¯t something like a fight or an explosion, he wouldn¡¯t tell you," Mom said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "The men in this family are completely oblivious."

    "No, I¡¯m not," Gabe immediately defended himself.

    "You will be, my love," Mom said condescendingly.

    "We¡¯re not gossips," Bob corrected with a smile. "And that¡¯s not a bad thing," he assured Gabe.

    Later, while I was watching TV with Gabe again, the phone suddenly rang.

    "I¡¯ll take that," Mom said excitedly, appearing out of nowhere.

    Judging by the time of the call, I was pretty sure it was Mrs. Cooper.

    "Oh my God," Mom said, shocked. "Poor family," she added a moment later, covering her mouth.

    "What¡¯s going on?" I asked, worried.

    "Of course, we will, yes," Mom said on the phone, raising a hand to stop my question. "All right, see you soon," she added a moment later before hanging up.

    "What?" I asked, concerned, walking toward her when I saw her sad expression.

    "A girl from your school died last night in a car accident," Mom answered quietly, placing a hand on her chest to keep Gabe from hearing.

    "What? Who?" I asked, incredulous.

    "Martha Hanson. She was your age," Mom said sadly, waiting for my reaction.

    "That¡¯s horrible," I said.

    "You didn¡¯t know her?" Mom asked, still with sadness in her voice.

    "No, I didn¡¯t," I replied softly.

    The next day, the school had a decidedly bitter feeling in the hallways. One of the lockers not far from mine, obviously the one that belonged to Martha, was filled with flowers in a sort of altar in her memory.

    "My mom is really affected, and I didn¡¯t even knew her," Georgie said, puzzled, as we stood in front of our lockers, looking at the usually noisy place, now in an uncomfortable silence.

    "She was our age, your mom''s just worried about you," I explained calmly.

    "I guess that makes sense. My mom told me I won¡¯t be allowed to go to any parties for a while," David said, nodding.

    "My dad said the same thing," declared Kat, who, along with Mandela, approached us.

    "Did you know her?" I asked, noticing how Mandela was staring at the decorated locker, surrounded by people.

    "Mandela had theater class with her," Kat answered for her friend after a few seconds of silence.

    "She had a lot of passion for acting," Mandela said. "I saw her at the party, she was drinking. I didn¡¯t think she would drive in that state," she added sadly.

    "Was she driving under the influence?" I asked surprised.

    "Yeah" Mandela replied.

    In my time as a paramedic I had seen dozens if not hundreds of car accidents caused by drinking and driving, it was never a good day when one of these occurred.

    "So fake," Kat murmured, strangely furious, immediately drawing the attention of my friends. "Regina, look at her," she added, discreetly pointing down the hallway.

    Sure enough, among all the people in front of the locker, covering her face, Regina was crying, seemingly devastated, while Karen and Gretchen hugged her, both also appearing sad.

    The day went on, and lunchtime arrived quickly. Like in the morning, the cafeteria was surprisingly quieter than usual. There were still some people talking, but mostly in murmurs.

    "We have incoming," Kat suddenly murmured, clenching her jaw.

    "PJ, can we talk?" Regina asked, appearing behind me with slightly puffy eyes. "It''ll be quick, I promise," she added a moment later.

    "Sure," I responded after a second of silence. Exhaling slightly, I stood up, smiling calmly at my friends.

    Walking behind Regina, we left the cafeteria, with a few eyes following our steps.

    "What do you need, Regina?" I asked once we were outside the cafeteria.

    "I¡¯ve been reflecting," Regina admitted slowly. "With everything that''s happening, the horrible news," she added, gesturing toward the school hallway, "I¡¯ve decided to forgive you," she softly declared, placing her hand on my arm.

    "I''m sorry, what?" I asked, incredulous.

    "I realized how fragile life is and decided that silly fights aren¡¯t worth it," Regina declared with a slight smile. "I forgive you and accept you back," she added ¡®kindly.¡¯

    "Accept me back?" I asked, processing what was happening¡ªI couldn''t believe what I was hearing.

    "Yes, I think you deserve a second chance," Regina responded, caressing my arm.

    "I can''t believe this. This is a joke, right?" I asked, stopping Regina¡¯s hand on my arm with some disgust and slowly moving it away, clearly careful not to hurt her.

    "Of course not, silly, I''m serious," Regina responded, apparently forgetting her sadness completely, with a wide smile.

    I had thought Kat''s disdain for Regina earlier that day was entirely caused by her anger, but now I could see what she meant.

    "Regina... this is a new level of low," I murmured, still shaking my head in disbelief. "I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re using something as tragic as a classmate¡¯s death to fuel your delusions. You need help," I added with disgust.

    "Wha¡ª"

    "No, Regina, I don¡¯t want to hear it. I told you at the party, I¡¯m with Diane, and that¡¯s not going to change, even if it¡¯s what you want," I declared, cutting her off before she could say anything else. "Please, don¡¯t ever talk to me again," I added, frowning and quickly walking back to the cafeteria.

    Regina didn¡¯t come back, and I didn¡¯t answer my friends¡¯ questions.

    Days passed, and with them, the heavy feeling at school slowly faded. The locker still had pictures, flowers, and stuffed animals scattered on the floor, but people gradually moved on with their lives.

    On Friday afternoon, as the weekend of fights Case had promised us arrived¡ªwithout going to the hospital¡ªand after saying goodbye to my family and Diane, I followed the muscular man''s orders and arrived at the gym with a backpack packed for three days.

    "Thanks for bringing me," I said to Bob from inside his awful truck.

    "Don¡¯t mention it, champ. Good luck on your trip," Bob responded, patting my shoulder kindly.

    "Thanks, see you later," I said, getting out of the car a second later.

    Inside the gym, Tim and Case, each carrying their own backpacks, were waiting.

    "A minute later, and you would¡¯ve had to run after the car," Case declared seriously, checking his watch.

    "That¡¯s why I arrived a minute early," I responded, unable to help myself, making Tim snort.

    "Funny. Come on, it''s time to go. Lock up," Case ordered, without the slightest hint of amusement on his face.

    Following the man¡¯s instructions, I walked with Tim to the back alley of the gym, where Daisy was parked.

    "No rummaging through the drawers, clean up after yourselves, and roll down the windows if you need to fart," Case said with a frown, stopping next to his RV.

    "Got it," I said, while Tim simply nodded.

    "Let''s go," Case said, exhaling.

    ---

    By the way, I really didn''t plan on the death of a completely unknown character being such a big cliffhanger.

    I''ve read some comments talking about the pacing of the story and I agree that I may have gotten a bit hung up on the repetitiveness of the chapters, at least these last few, but as I said before, the first volume will only be about 100 chapters long (possibly about 10/15 chapters after the 100th) there are just a few things left to develop.

    ---

    Author Thoughts:

    As always, I''m not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin and not McLovin.

    I think that''s all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I''ll correct them immediately.

    Thank you for reading! :D

    PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.