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 silen their rooms indicated anything, the ereet had decided to keep quiet, allowing the pregnant woman's shouts to be heard everywhere.

  "I '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 a extremely ical.

  With the new revetion, fortunately for me, I wasn't the only one uhe wrath of the pregnant woman. Unfortunately for Bob, he ext to me, receiving the same amount of hormonal woman's shouts.

  The shouts tinued for several minutes until the seemingly breathless woman had to stop to rest. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bob quickly sat o his wife, soothingly caressing her arms, trying to be fiven.

  "If he didn't lose the money, what did you do with the winnings?" after a few seds to catch her breath, the woman asked.

  Again seizing the opportunity, Bob began to expihing we had discussed and do the bank with Mr. Lynch. Occasionally, I had to add details that Bob overlooked.

  "Oh, PJ," with teary eyes, the woman stood up affeately, pg her hands on the sides of my face, "I'm so gd 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, makis," getting angry again, she began to shake my head, "I didn't raise you that way," and the scolding tinued.

  Several shouts from the hormonal woman ter, Bob mao shift her focus. That day, for the first time in my two lives, I discovered what it was like to be truly punished.

  The day, Bob sent my car with Mr. Sparks, who had to remind me he was the father of the chi boy, as the man had a meic workshop where they would i and fix everything the eeded, and, of course, I would have to pay.

  As the days passed, my already routine life became even more routine. Disc 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 reprima school, so ironically, it was the only pce 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 Med me into volunteering, ing, anizing, cutting nails—basically, the worst part of w as a nurse in a hospital, at least the part the nurses didn't want to do and avoided whehey 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 ign him while doing my volunteer work, House responded.

  Apart from being puo do volunteer work at the hospital, I unished every day with House being House. From the first day after Mom expined why he couldn't be in charge of me for too long, House enjoyed pointing out and mog 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—ing cars, dishes, taking care of the garden—basically anything that could be done by me.

  Even, as Bob had promised, my weekends were pletely 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 pletely free on weekends to be a babysitter or tutor, it seemed like the first choice of parents iire neighborhood for a babysitter.

  At least I had a reward and earned a few dozen dolrs every weekend.

  Weeks passed, and with them, my days in my routine life. Every day, go to school, hospital, home, a until the third week of my punishment arrived—Thursday, game day.

  Again, we were the home team. Uhe first game, there were many more people iands, both from our team and the oppo. 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 sed game of the seasoed in a defeat.

  "I don't want to see you down," Coach Cooper ordered in the locker room after the game, "you pyed well, there were many mistakes, but nothing that 't be resolved in the practices. No excuses. Go bae and think about the game just for today, but starting tomorrow, fet about this feeling of defeat to focus on the game," the man tinued before walking to his office.

  "You heard the coach," deg that the bad game wouldn't stop me, I ordered, and surprisingly, my teammates listened.

  The bitterness of losing the sed game of the seasohe day, Friday, and by Monday, the school had already fotten 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 fet that we'll go for the driviomorrow," 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 pte, trying not to show my i.

  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 fotiation, again reprimanding Gabe for mog.

  "Talk to Herschel; your car will be ready for your birthday week," ging 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 pletely adopted my birthday in this life.

  The day, Bob took me to the Department of Motor Vehicles. After showing the relevant dots and taking the written exam, a small bald man with rge gsses came to where our car arked.

  I had already passed the test in my past life, so it wasn't a difficult thing to achieve. Following the examiner's instrus, I drove on the road for a few minutes until we returo the starting point.

  "Perfect, finally, park between those two es, please," with his nasal voice, the examiner ordered, pointing with his pen at two es in the middle of the street.

  After perf 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 gsses, replied.

  After the man handed us the dots with the approval stamp, we went bato the office to process the remaining paperwork. In one more week, I would have driving independence, finally.

  The st week of my punishment was by far the toughest of all. Apparently, the day I took my drivi, a big party happened, and I had missed it. My friends, being the teehey 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 uood because the nurses didirely 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 bor.

  Finally, my birthday had arrived. On the Friday of my st punished week, when I arrived home, parked ly ed, with ires 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 seds ter, 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 sed time, I quickly got into the car. If ges had been made oside to be noticeable, the interior was unreizable. Mr. Sparks had done an incredible job; the seats had new material, the steering wheel had been ged, the dashboard and radio seemed oo. Overall, Debbie looked like new.

  Upon starting the engine, I uood, at least a little, the excitement some people had with their cars. This car beloo me, and I was about to drive it. L 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 ing through the window. It was such a f 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 ter, 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 ied in how the car handled, and at least during dihat day, the versation was entirely tered around Debbie.

  The day, apparently vihat 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 e in handy fas.

  The routine of these st 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 o do something and the opportunity to use my car, I accepted any request from the other people in the house. Fortunately fabe, he was the first one I approached.

  " you take me to the ic book store?" my brother asked excitedly. "Mom only takes me for a few minutes when I apao do the shopping, but now you take me!" still excited, he affirmed.

  "Why not," with nothing else to do, I replied to my brother.

  After inf 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 ic book store, I followed my little excited brother inside.

  Ihe ic book store, surprisingly, I ran into Tam, the Vietnamese boy who was a on friend with Sheldon.

  "Oh, PJ Dun, my friend, what are you doing here?" Tam asked from the floor, where he was sitting and reading.

  "Hi, Tam, remember you call me just PJ," I remihe boy, "I brought my brother," pointing to Gabe, who was browsing through the ic book shelves, I expined.

  "I see," Tam nodded seriously, "take a seat, please," pointing to the spaext to him on the floor, the Vietnamese boy offered.

  "For now, I'm good, thanks," I replied, deing his offer.

  "PJ, how long we stay here?" suddenly, Gabe asked o me.

  "Don't worry; we stay until ter. It seems you 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 Dun, 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.

  Ign my brother, I ruffled his hair, "bring me one of those ics about the peculiar doctor," I teased the boy.

  "It's Doctor Strange," with monoyance, Gabe walked to one of the ic book shelves, searg for a few seds until he took one of the ic books.

  "There," handihe ic, Gabe took a seat a bit away from Tam, apparently still unfortable with the strarodu of the Vietnamese boy.

  "Do you want oaking a bunch of dies from his side, Tam offered again.

  "Yeah, sure," seemingly fetting his disfort 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 iing ic. From the store's entrance, I heard, "excuse me, do you have X-Men number ohirty-seven? I'd like to know what happe, please," in a high-pitched tohat I reized as Sheldon's.

  "Ba the er," the store clerk replied.

  A moment ter, my theory was firmed 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 ter.

  "I thought you said ics were for children," Tam said, again supported by Gabe.

  "I'm a plicated young man," with indifference, Sheldon replied while browsing one of the shelves.

  A moment ter, it seemed like he found the ic he was looking for and took a seat o Tam, oher side of Gabe, calmly reading its tents.

  We tinued 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 expined 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 ugh slightly.

  Trying to hide his ughter, Tam quickly chewed on his dy, "what?" he asked the Vietnamese boy, apparently, Sheldon was staring at him ily.

  "Nothing," Sheldon quickly replied.

  "Do you want one?" again kindly, Tam offered.

  "No," Sheldon deed quickly; it seemed he still didn't want to eat solid foods, despite my reendation more than five weeks ago. The boy tinued drinking his meals instead of chewing them.

  "Well, if you ge your mind, help yourself," kindly, Tam said, returning to his reading.

  Sheldon seemed to be in a predit about whether to take one or not, and apparently, I was the only og him. I was ed that the little boy would stop eating solid foods sincerely.

  Gng at his ic book, it seemed like the boy made a decision, quickly grabbing one of the dies and tearing off a piece with his teeth, chewing the dy deliberately.

  I was gd for him.

  When I fihe sed ic book, not much ter, 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 h 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 ohirty-six, so I decided to e here to read the ohe boy expined calmly.

  "So, they know you're here?" I asked, making the boy lift his face immediately.

  ---

  Author Thougts:

  As always, I'm not Ameri, 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 lise in the Uates. In Mexico, you only o be of legal age (for the lise, 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.