After finishing dinner, following what by this point was an everyday routine, Gabe, Bob, and I went to the garage to train liftis.

  "Nope," I said to Gabe as I took a weight pte from his hands that he was attempting to put on the barbell.

  "What?" he asked, somewhat offended. "But I've been aloh 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 uhe 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 asynously.

  "Okay, okay," Gabe said i as he y 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 tinued pining 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 expio the excited kid. "Now stop pining and tinue quickly; you're taking up space," I scolded, giving him a light tap on the forehead.

  Muttering, Gabe tinued with his exercise.

  As always, Gabe entered several minutes before us to have more time to prepare for sleep. After saying goodbye to Bob aering the house again, I also pleted my nightly routine before lying down, ready for the day.

  I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn't nervous. Meemaw would return tomorrow with two possible outes: 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 sequences of losing so much money in such a risky bet.

  The day unfolded normally. Waking up a few minutes before the arm, I informed Gabe to get ready with me and go for our m run. Once again, Gabe, pushing himself to the end, mao 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 Gee," Bob suddenly said during the drive to school, reminisg 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 isoting myself to tiudying 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 quiough 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 statioalking and ughing about any current hot topic.

  "SuperStar, today yoing for Debbie?" after greeting everyone, Brock asked, making everyone look at him with fusion.

  "Who's Debbie?" a surprised David asked. "Are you cheating ina?" 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 expined, making Brood with excitement.

  "Yes, it's my uncle's car. SuperStar here is going to buy it," Brock added with enthusiasm.

  "No way!" Geie excimed 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 Geie 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 ically oversized briefcase and perfectly arranged clothes to avoid wrinkles.

  "Hey Sheldon, good m," I greeted the little boy.

  "Good m to you too, PJ," Sheldoed 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 plexion 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 expined pletely seriously.

  "It's a good temporary solution, but you have to overe this fear soon. Skipping chewing is not healthy," I told the boy while starting tahings in my locker.

  "I don't uand, 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 missiain nutrients, like insoluble fiber, which is essential for yestive health," I expined 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 expin, being as serious as possible.

  "I appreciate your , 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 css, 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," An said calmly, expining the shock among my friends.

  "I'm much smarter," Sheldon said, apparently offehat 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 expined ironically, nodding for us to start walking.

  As we walked to our first-period css, David and Brock seemed to have remembered how Sheldon had greeted them all while making fun of Geie. "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, makich his energy a bit by answering the questions asked in css.

  During lunothing important happened. Each small group of friends at the table talked about their own topics of i, and although I tried more than oo silently engage in a versation with An, he always excused himself, g to be in another versation.

  At the end of the day, following Geie through the school hallways, we reached his father's offiside the school's locker rooms. "Hello, PJ," Mr. Creeted cheerfully as he gathered his things to say goodbye to Coach Wilkins.

  The ride home with Mr. Cooper and Geie was filled with pleasant, quiet chats about our days and pns for the uping games scheduled for the 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 befoing into the house. Befoing to Meemaw's house, which was across the street, I po 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 opehe door to find a very serious Meemaw. " I e 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 rge amount of air. "Did you see the fight, PJ?" Meemaw asked again.

  "No," it was true. Si ay-per-view event and without access to a neer from that day, I hadn't found out the result of the fight.

  "PJ," the woman said slowly, "you have to go to a o," she tinued while carefully searg in her bag, pulling out an envelope with great care. "Your luck is impressive," she said, me the paper.

  Taking the envelope from her hand, I slowly ope to pull out a thin check. "215,600 dolrs," the elderly woman excimed with excitement before I could see the tents of the check, standing up abruptly from the couch. "At the moment I pced the bet, the odds were 56 to 1; a few moments ter, they stabilized at 41 to 1. The whole situation was an incredible stroke of luck, Aces. I have to take you to a o to py roulette. With your luck, you bet on green and wiime," she affirmed, ughing nervously.

  The che my hands felt so heavy, while a pressure I didn't know I had in my chest disappeared pletely. Six numbers in a row were su absurd amount to my eyes and brain. I had muohan I had ever had anywhere.

  "I have to go to a bank to give you your ten pert," I told Meemaw with a somewhat choked voice; excitement was making my hands tremble.

  Laughing, Meemaw gently put her hands on miopping the trembling of my hands. "None of that, kid. You saved my Moonpie, and," she added while searg in her bag again, "I followed your example," she tinued, pulling out another envelope from her bag. "I bet six hundred of my own dolrs," she tinued with excitement. "You made me win a lot of money; it wouldn't be fair for me to charge you for it," she tinued, dang 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 seds to uand its implication. I was a minor with a six-figure check; I necessarily needed one of my guardians to hahe money. Slowly sitting on the sofa while still looking at the che my hands, I pted it for what could have been several minutes.

  My tration on the piece of paper was brokehe door of the house opened with force. A cheerful Teddy ehe house, apanied by her two friends. Without stopping, seemingly not notig my presehe three teenagers quickly entered my sister's room.

  was Bob, who entered with a pyful smile. "Hey champ, you're already here," he said, notig my presence.

  "Hi, Dad," I said somewhat nervously about what was ing; I had to tell him. "Where's Gabe?" I asked, trying to prolong the versation.

  "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 trol to also sit on the couch. "How was your day?" he asked while focused on ging the el.

  "It was fine," I replied awkwardly, still pretending to be rigid but avoiding damaging the check.

  "I'm gd. I—" Bob was saying, but I interrupted.

  "I have something to tell you."

  ---

  Author's Thoughts:

  As always, I'm not Ameri, and much less a doctor.

  I would like to crify a few things.

  1. I have never made a 'professional' bet in my life, much less in the Uates (read the sed line of this se), so I don't know how it works outside of vague ideas that the eai world shows. I know there's some tax-reted to it, but let's pletely ig and think that it aid.

  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 imagihat, 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 ents about the strange way the MC refers to Bob. It's something I want to resolve differently iure. 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 se; 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.