Chapter 78
I hope you all have some chalk-
Enjoy.
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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—Meemaw'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—or likely not understanding—his 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—medicine," 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.
"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—an 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—" 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—it 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—I 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—Tim 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—I'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—big 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—just 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—a 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—not 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—not 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—all 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— 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—you 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—unlike when I thought there was still a chance—was 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—another 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."
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-Because you're going to need it to be suspended on this cliffhanger.
See you next week :D
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Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
RandomPasserby96
11332223
Victor_Venegas
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
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