I decided to take a small vacation, but hey! We're back :D
Enjoy.
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Standing on the porch of my house, staring fixedly at the door, completely indecisive about whether to enter or not, knowing that once Mom saw my face, I'd have to find a way to keep her from murdering me—or worse, go and yell at Case.
"PJ," an extremely high-pitched voice suddenly rang out right behind me.
"Holy shi—shush!" I exclaimed, feeling my heart leap out of my chest. "Sheldon," I said, taking a deep breath as I turned to face the boy.
"Yes?" Sheldon replied, visibly nervous, covering his body defensively as if expecting to be attacked—probably because of my startled reaction. "Are you okay? Did you get mugged? Is it safe out here?" he asked after seeing my face, quickly scanning our surroundings.
"Don't worry, Sheldon. I'm the only dangerous thing out here," I declared, pretending to be some movie villain while staring and smiling sinisterly at the street.
"All right," Sheldon said, visibly confused furrowing his brow as he nervously checked where I was looking. "I heard Mr. Walker's RV engine and deduced you'd returned," Sheldon stated returning his attention to me once he checked that there was nothing worrying around us.
"You remember the sound of Case's RV engine?" I asked, amused.
"Of course I remember the sound of every engine on our street, and that RV was here for enough days," Sheldon declared matter-of-factly. "Which reminds me—ever since Diane moved in with Meemaw, you've been coming home significantly earlier. I hope you're not breaking any traffic laws," he added, tilting his head.
"Not a single one," I assured him, raising my hand as if taking an oath.
"Great, that's good," Sheldon said, nodding. "So, what happened to your face?" he asked.
"I tripped," I answered immediately, trying to smile at the boy but stopping abruptly when I felt pain in my cheekbone.
"All right," Sheldon said, completely oblivious to my lie. "I came here to say hello—done that," he added, as if crossing it off a list.
"You did," I said, nodding.
"Yes, so, I need to ask for advice," Sheldon continued seriously.
"Of course, Sheldon. Anything," I replied immediately surprised, matching the boy's seriousness.
"I'm worried about my mom," Sheldon admitted quietly gently bowing his head.
"Oh, okay," I murmured, surprised. "Here, do you want to sit with me?" I asked softly, stepping down a couple of porch stairs and preparing to sit on the ground.
"No, thanks" Sheldon responded immediately. "Do you know how many germs are on a house porch?" he asked frowning.
Right. What was I thinking?
"Yeah, I know. Sorry for asking," I said quickly, straightening my legs without having fully sat down. "So, what's worrying you?" I asked, hiding the pain the sudden movement caused in my muscles.
"Changes in my routine," Sheldon answered immediately.
"And that has to do with your mom because…?" I asked, not entirely seeing the connection. I was too tired to think.
"Since Martha Hanson's death last week," Sheldon said, and I was too embarrassed to admit I'd completely forgotten about it at that moment, "Mom hasn't done any of her daily rituals."
"Rituals?" I murmur puzzled.
"Starting today we don't say grace before dinner anymore. She didn't put Missy and me to bed. Dad made breakfast, and we didn't go to church. I'm worried."
"Oh," I sighed, finally understanding.
"You know I don't like changes at all, so how do I get Mom back to normal?" Sheldon asked, completely nonchalant.
"Ah, Sheldon," I muttered, pressing my hands to my face as exhaustion suddenly multiplied in my body.
After several seconds I found myself unable to come up with a good answer to such complicated question, I usually found a way around it, this time, I didn't think it was possible.
"Look, Sheldon," I said slowly, "I don't think you can do anything to force a change in your mom. And even if you could, I wouldn't recommend it. Forcing someone to change never works. You know that," I said, moving my hands from my face to look seriously at the boy.
"Yeah, I know, but—" Sheldon began, defeated, but I raised my hand to stop him.
"But… that doesn't mean you can't talk to your mom. Tell her how you feel, your worries," I said, squinting. "You're her son, and you're still a kid. Right now, more than ever, you have the right to be scared."
"I'm not scared," Sheldon declared, frowning.
"Of course not," I said smiling.
"Sheldon?" From the Coopers' house, the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Cooper called out. "PJ, is that you?" the woman asked a moment later.
"Yes, Mrs. Cooper," I replied, raising my hand.
"Oh I'm glad you made it back safely," she said kindly. "Sheldon, it's late. Come here."
"Just talk," I told Sheldon, shrugging.
"Thank you," Sheldon said, not seeming entirely convinced. "By the way, you smell like sweat," he added shamelessly before walking to his house.
"Yes I know" I said to no one amused as I watched Sheldon walk across the lawn to his house, still nervous about his surroundings, I nodded and returned to my earlier predicament at my front door.
Deciding to rip off the band-aid, I opened the door and stepped inside. For some reason, in my mind, I expected to find Mom on the other side, ready to start yelling at the state of my face.
Contrary to my imagination, Bob was lounging on the living room couch, eating popcorn straight from a bucket in his lap.
"Hey, champ. Welcome home." Said Bob who turned halfway to greet me cheerfully.
"Hey, Dad," I replied, partly surprised I hadn't run into Mom as I'd imagined.
"Oof," Bob's smile vanished as soon as he got a good look at my face. "That's not good," he muttered, moving the popcorn bucket from his lap and slowly standing up.
"Any chance Mom will believe this was the result of a fall?" I joked.
Without dignifying me with a response, Bob just sighed, studying my face a little closer. "At least you won?" he asked, crossing his arms with a small smile.
"Of course," I replied, feigning offense.
"Good," Bob said proudly, nodding. "After your mom's done with you, I'd love to hear from whatever's left of you about the fights," he added, joking.
It couldn't be that bad. Mom knew it wasn't completely safe to go fight, which was why she'd set the conditions she had before letting me go. Even if my face looked rough, there'd be no permanent damage.
"Have you thought about what you'll tell your mom so she doesn't murder you?" Bob asked, still joking.
Noticing how much Bob was enjoying this, I frowned at him.
"Me?" I asked. "Remember, you were the one who convinced me to go after Case," I added, raising my eyebrows threateningly.
"Oh, you wouldn't," Bob said, incredulous and pretending to be hurt, placing a hand on his chest.
"Oh, I definitely would," I replied without hesitation. "I'd drag you under the bus with me without a second thought. So start thinking about how we're getting out of this mess," I added.
Before Bob could even think of a response—
"What are you two talking about?" Mom asked, suddenly appearing behind us. "Why didn't you tell me PJ was home, Bob?" she added a second later frowning.
Completely caught off guard, Bob and I froze, staring at each other without making a sound.
"What's going on?" Mom asked, concerned.
"Hey, Mom," I said, taking a deep breath for courage before slowly turning to face her.
"Oh my God, look at your face," Mom immediately exclaimed, stepping closer.
"Would you believe me if I said I tripped?" I asked, smiling awkwardly.
"Oh, shut up," Mom replied, exasperated. "Let me see that," she added, holding my face in her hands. "Does it hurt when I press here?" she asked, pressing her thumb against my injury.
"Yeah," I answered immediately, trying to pull my face away from her surprisingly strong grip.
"Good," Mom said with a sinister smile. "Don't move," she ordered a moment later.
Unable to do anything else, I let her continue examining my face.
"You're going to need lidocaine," Mom declared, gently patting my cheek. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked a moment later, completely calm.
Stunned by the distinct lack of yelling, I stayed completely still, afraid any movement might remind her she was supposed to be mad at me.
"Don't make that face. I knew you could get hurt—I'm not stupid," Mom said, frowning in annoyance.
Slowly, without sudden movements, I turned to Bob, who, like me, seemed equally speechless at Mom's calmness.
"Oh you two are being such children. Go take a shower. You smell like sweat," Mom ordered, kissing my forehead since I was at her height.
Without needing to be told again, even while sharing a puzzled look with Bob, I headed straight to the bathroom.
Several minutes later, showered and with muscle-relaxing ointment applied to practically my entire body, I stepped out of the bathroom feeling completely refreshed—but still utterly exhausted.
When I reached my room, carrying my backpack with just a towel wrapped around my waist, I found Gabe lying on his bed, softly strumming one of his guitars with his eyes closed.
I threw my backpack forcefully onto the floor, immediately startling my brother. "Hey, bud, that sounded good," I said amusedly, greeting Gabe.
"You scared me," Gabe grumbled.
"Really? Sorry about that," I replied, feigning remorse. "Get out of here, I need to get dressed," I ordered, smiling.
"I'd kick your butt if someone hadn't already beaten me to it," Gabe muttered as he stood up.
"What was that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and cutting off his path. "Well, I love you, and I've missed you," I said and moving before Gabe could react I pulled him him into a tight hug on my less injured side.
"Get off me," Gabe said immediately, trying to squirm out from under my arm. "This is so gross—you're practically naked," he added with disgust, his words dripping with disdain.
"Oh come on, you know very well that you won't be able to get out" I said mockingly "All you have to do is say it and I'll let you go." I ordered, ignoring his escape attempts.
"Say what?" Gabe asked, pushing against my torso to no avail.
"You know what. Say it," I declared, amused.
"Ugh, I missed you too," Gabe said, as if the words physically pained him.
"And?" I asked, lightly rubbing my knuckles on his head, careful not to hurt him.
"No!" he exclaimed angrily.
"Come on, I'm starting to sweat," I warned mischievously.
"All right, all right," Gabe said, exasperated, finally giving up and virtually leaving his body limp. "I love you too," he added defeatedly.
"Was that so hard?" I snorted, finally releasing Gabe, who was now completely disheveled.
"Shut up," he said, frowning. "What I wanted to say is that I already miss having the room to myself and I totally loved your absence," he added, running out before I could grab him again.
Laughing, I closed the door to get dressed.
A couple of minutes later, now wearing clothes that didn't reek, I stepped out of my room and let Gabe back in.
"Do you want something to eat, honey?" Mom asked from the living room couch, where she sat next to Bob.
"No, Mom, thanks. I'm pretty tired. I'll just let Diane know I'm back and then go to sleep," I replied.
"All right, say hi to Diane for me," Mom said, turning her attention back to the TV.
"Yup," I murmured, walking out of the house.
When I got to Meemaw's house, Diane opened the door a few seconds after knocking, smiling at first—until she saw my face.
"Hey," I said, smiling as much as my bruised face would allow.
"Oh no," she said worriedly, gently touching my face. "Does it hurt?" she asked sadly.
"Only when you touch it," I replied immediately, exaggerating a pained expression, which made Diane pull her hands back in panic.
"I'm sorry," she said, frightened, clasping her hands tightly.
"I'm just joking," I admitted quickly, raising my hands.
"Oh, don't do that!" Diane said angrily, hitting my body—this time actually hurting me as she struck one of the bruises on my side.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," I said, practically pleading as I held her wrists.
Unable to move her hands, Diane clenched her jaw, pouting.
"You let them hurt you," Diane murmured, still pouting.
"Not on purpose," I said squinting my eyes, hoping that would be enough defense. "Look, I'm fine," I added releasing her hands after a few seconds, noticing the still present concern on Diane's face. "They're just a few scratches—nothing serious I promise."
Silently, Diane studied my face, still frowning and pouting.
Feeling the full weight of her silence and unsure what else to do, "I'm sorry," I said, lowering my head slightly.
"It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong," Diane admitted after several seconds, still looking sad as she took a step forward, gently bumping into my chest.
Holding Diane in a hug, I sighed. "Well, I didn't protect myself properly," I joked.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Diane murmured against my chest. "You should've fought better."
Stunned, I gently pulled Diane away, staring at her wordlessly.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Nothing," I replied, amused gently descending to kiss her. "What did you do this weekend? Did you go out with Kat and Mandella?" Some time later, trying hard to get away from Diane I asked.
"Yeah" Taking a second, probably to regain her composure, Diane gently biting her lip, "we went to the movies and shopping again. I got a new sweater," added proudly.
"Really?" I asked, amused.
After that, Diane and I talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye—since I was genuinely exhausted.
When I got home, I immediately went to my room and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next day, still feeling muscle soreness all over my body, I stepped out of my car in the school parking lot.
A few steps from the school building's stairs, I immediately remembered another downside of my face's condition.
"Look, he got into another fight," I heard someone say, not even bothering to whisper as I walked past the crowd gathered outside the school.
Ignoring all the stares—or at least trying to—I quickly made my way to the school doors. If the small crowd outside was annoying, the packed hallways were even worse.
You'd think that after experiencing being the center of attention among a bunch of gossipy teenagers at least a couple of times, I'd be used to it by now. But no, it was still pretty uncomfortable.
Reaching my locker as fast as I could without making more than a second or two of eye contact with anyone, I found Kat waiting there, one eyebrow raised.
"Someone really kicked your ass," my friend said, amused.
"How is this possible?" I asked incredulously. "It hadn't even been two minutes since I'd walked through the school doors".
"Oh, Diane told us," Kat said casually.
"What? When?" I asked, still surprised.
"Yesterday, on the phone," Kat replied disinterestedly.
Before I could say anything else, "Hello," Mandella said, appearing beside Kat. "Wow, you really got your ass kicked," she added, her eyes widening in surprise.
"That's what I said," Kat declared, amused.
"Okay," I said seriously, stopping the jokes. "You talked to Diane yesterday?" I asked, frowning.
"We talk practically every night," Kat replied immediately also frowning, seeming puzzled by the question.
Again, before I could comment, "Hey," David interrupted, hurrying over to us. "Wow, you really got your ass kicked," he said, impressed.
"Is this a joke? What's going on?" I asked, cutting off whatever Kat or Mandella were about to say, feeling a growing headache, "you don't say a word" I exclaimed this time seeing George approaching.
Georgie, who hadn't really said anything and possibly did not deserve my anger—yet—froze with his hands raised, visibly scared.
Struggling to actually ignore the curious stares, the rest of the day passed without much incident—aside from my friends sharing a bunch of wild theories they had heard about my injuries. Some said I'd been in a fight with an armed group, others speculated I was involved with the Medford mafia, and someone even heard from Sheldon that I'd "tripped." Nothing truly interesting happened at school.
Later that day, when I arrived at the hospital, after greeting the nurses who, like my schoolmates, immediately noticed the marks on my face. I made my way through the halls.
"Ah, PJ," Dr. Cuddy's voice called out from one of the wings of the hospital, making me stop.
"Dr. Cuddy," I said, smiling at the woman.
Dr. Cuddy was accompanied by a large, bald Black man—judging by the quality of his suit and shoes, likely a hospital donor.
"Oh my, what happened to your face?" Dr. Cuddy asked, visibly concerned once she was close enough to see the lingering swelling on my cheekbone.
"Occupational hazard of boxing training," I said with a slight smile, not intending to give a full explanation of what I did with Case.
"I get that—I used to box when I was younger," the man beside Dr. Cuddy said, grinning widely as he threw a terribly done punch at the air.
"Oh, forgive my rudeness. PJ, this is Edward Vogler," Dr. Cuddy said quickly. "Edward has been incredibly generous and donated a hundred million dollars to the hospital," she added, widening her eyes emphatically.
I understood perfectly well what Dr. Cuddy was implying without saying it outright—Edward Vogler was an important person.
"Oh, that's wonderful. The hospital can help so many people with that kind of money," I said, genuinely surprised.
"That's the plan," Vogler said with a friendly smile that, for some reason, didn't reach his eyes.
Noticing the man had obviously lied, I unfocused my attention for a second, oddly nervous. The next moment, realizing I'd lost the friendly smile on my face, I quickly corrected it—because really, why would a man donate such an absurd amount of money to a hospital just to lie about it?
"I have to be honest, I already know quite a bit about you," Vogler said after a brief silence, the smile on his face without disappearing. "I had a quick conversation with President Hagmeyer a few days ago, and she had incredible things to say about you, as a lot of doctors here in the hospital" he added, bowing his head slightly to Dr. Cuddy, "even reached me a newspaper clipping. A Nobel at your age? Impressive."
"Actually all the work was done by Dr. Thomas and Dr. Murray. I only helped a little at the end, so I was really only mentioned in the article's acknowledgments." I corrected him immediately.
"Regardless, still impressive," Vogler said, seemingly disinterested in the facts. "I also heard you're studying at the hospital—some kind of arrangement with the university?" he asked, putting on what, at least to me, looked like a visibly forced mask of interest.
"Yeah, PJ has access to all the privileges, and a few more, of a university student at the hospital under the same publication conditions," Dr. Cuddy answered quickly, apparently also finding the man's question odd.
After a short silence, Vogler crossed his arms, looking at me with an expression of calculated curiosity.
"So, what exactly are you working on right now?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. "Because, as far as I understand, you're not officially involved in any research tied to the hospital."
Despite the seemingly innocent question, I felt a small prick of discomfort. It wasn't a direct accusation, but the implication was there: Why are you using hospital resources without giving anything in return?
"Well, right now, I'm focusing on assisting Doctor House and his team," I replied immediately, keeping my voice neutral.
"Doctor House?" Vogler arched an eyebrow, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place it.
Dr. Cuddy quickly intervened. "Dr. Gregory House, head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine."
Vogler flashed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, yes. You're studying under him?" he asked, tilting his head. The words sounded more like an observation than a question, and there was something in his tone that made it come off almost condescending.
"Yes, it's a great experience. We've work mainly in highly complex cases. Cases that even other doctors cannot solve" I declared, emphasizing the word doctor. It seemed like he thought that by making huge donations to hospitals he magically knew more about the medical field than anyone else.
The man clearly had ego problems and was narcissistic. He and House would surely get along famously.
Vogler let out a small scoff, as if he'd already drawn his own conclusions. "Well, I suppose as long as you're learning, something worthwhile will come out of it, at least for medicine" He glanced at Cuddy. "Though, of course, it'd be good to see some tangible results in the future. Donations like mine aren't meant to fund hobbies."
The message was clear enough. I wasn't his priority, but if I stayed here, Vogler expected me to justify my presence somehow—possibly as leverage to threaten pulling his donation.
Dr. Cuddy, sensing the growing tension, quickly changed the subject. "PJ, there's a new case in Diagnostics. You wouldn't want to be late."
"You're right, Doctor. I have to go, a pleasure..." I said to Vogler, nodding at both of them before turning to leave.
The entire interaction with Vogler somehow felt dirty. The man radiated manipulation just by being there, and it was deeply unpleasant. Fortunately, he was just one of many hospital donors—a very generous one, but nothing more.
I'd only taken a couple of steps before—"PJ," Vogler called out, stopping me in my tracks.
With a posture that practically screamed despotism, the man gave me a falsely amiable smile.
"I'm sure Dr. Cuddy simply forgot due to the surprise of your injuries," he said after a second of silence, visibly unsettling Dr. Cuddy—an obvious power play. "But, aside from being a generous donor, I'm also the new chairman of the board," he declared smoothly.
Oh.
"By the way, send my best wishes to your mother and your new sister," Vogler added, still smiling. "It was a pleasure meeting you, I hope we meet again another time to discuss more about boxing."
"Likewise," I said, this time not even bothering to force a smile, my words hiding a different meaning.
Another clear message, he held significant power in the hospital—including, somehow, being Mom's boss.
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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.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
11332223
RandomPasserby96
Victor_Venegas
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.