Daily Drama

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.

"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—" 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—" 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.