Chapter 48: Chapter 48
Note:
At the moment, one theory is being completely refuted, while the other seems to be working.
I'm having an issue with the worldbuilding, and I hope you can give me your recommendations. As you know (if you didn't know, now you do), I'm following the timeline of the series Young Sheldon, but I have a problem with it.
Right now, we're at the time of episode 5 where there's a time skip of 5 weeks, which we've already passed (in theory, we're at the end of week 4).
But the following episodes have certain problems with temporal continuity; there are things in the show that shouldn't happen but do. So, this note is to warn that I might skip some episodes of Young Sheldon or make changes to some things.
I've read a comment recommending a story time skip, and I understand why, but I really can't do it until some events later. I need to go through something important that happens in season two of Young Sheldon (I'm reading theories, careful Victor, I'm watching you).
Enjoy.
---
After the game we won, the coach began to show new plays to learn for the next opponents we would have. Georgie, Alan, and I knew they came from Sheldon, and even though they might seem risky and uncommon plays, I knew they came from precise mathematical analysis by the little boy.
Days later using these plays, we won the next game of the season with surprising ease.
The following Friday after the game, in addition to the usual congratulations for the victory the day before, as I walked through the school halls, my previous assumption about Sheldon's anonymity in our victories proved to be incorrect.
"The genius kid, the one who's like ten years old, they say he invents plays using math," an excited teenager was preaching in front of a group of other astonished teenagers.
Arriving at my locker, "So, Sheldon is your new coach?" Kat asked bluntly, apparently trying to joke as if the idea were ridiculous.
"How does everyone know?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. I highly doubted that Coach Cooper was out there proudly announcing that the risky plays he had made were at the recommendation of his nine-year-old son.
"I don't know, Mandella heard it from a guy, but we thought it was a false rumor, is it true?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah," I replied, still thinking about how someone could have found out or who might have said it, maybe Coach Wilkins.
"But the kid can't run for more than twenty seconds before getting tired; you should see him in gym class," Kat said incredulously and amusedly.
"He helps with the statistics; you can calculate which play has the highest probability of working if you have enough data and the ability to do the calculations. Sheldon is more than capable of doing that," I explained to the teenager.
"So, he's like a calculator?" Kat asked.
"Basically."
As I briefly explained to Kat how probability and statistics worked, David arrived down the school hallway, as always, the day after winning a game, my friend walked with his chest puffed up with pride, greeting people he passed with a big confident smile.
"Hey PJ, Stratford," arriving at his locker beside ours, the teenager greeted us, "what a great day, huh?" smiling at a group of girls passing by us and being ignored, David said without losing his smile.
"Yeah, a great day indeed. Did you hear about Sheldon?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, did Georgie tell you too?" still trying to get the attention of any girl passing by him, David asked, "he told me yesterday after the game, and I thought it was awesome, it's like magic."
"More like maths," I said, causing Kat to let out a small snort, "and did you tell anyone?" I asked, still interested in finding out how the rumor had spread.
"Oh yeah, I told Mandy, the one who sits next to me in math," shamelessly, David said.
Bingo.
The entire school's attention was once again on someone, fortunately for me, it wasn't me. Given my peers' astonishing ability for gossip, the entire school possibly now knew that Sheldon had possibly helped with the plays for the games we won.
The little boy, seemingly oblivious or uninterested in all the stares following him around the school, lived his day without issues, while his brother, annoyed with David all day, maintained a furrowed brow as Alan and I constantly teased him.
In a way, it was entirely his fault that everyone in the school found out his 'secret.' David wasn't the smartest of our friends, which in itself is not a bad thing, but when you reveal something you don't want anyone else to know, it's just common sense to remind him several times that he can't tell anyone else.
The day passed and since it was Halloween I decided not to go to the hospital, Mom, with her festive spirit maximized by her pregnancy, had made Bob decorate the entire house, also forcing everyone in the family to wear themed costumes, for several minutes making us pose in dozens of poses for photographs before letting us go free.
Gabe, like any other child should be, was completely excited about going trick-or-treating, changing the costume Mom had chosen for him for one of his own choice; the boy was ready to go out and get candy.
"I invited my friends to join us, Kiddo, I have to go get them; you can come with me or wait," I said, taking the keys to 'Debbie' still in the costume Mom had chosen.
"Okay, but we have to be fast; the best candies might run out immediately, and I don't know the good houses to ask," Gabe said to himself as he left the house carrying a pillowcase with him.
For simplicity, the first one we reached was Kat, who had agreed to accompany us a few days ago to give Alan and me company while we looked after our brothers.
Outside the Stratford's house with Gabe, who wouldn't miss the chance to go trick-or-treating at a 'full bar' house, whatever that means.
"Trick or treat!" shouted Gabe after ringing the doorbell, preparing with his pillowcase. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Mr. Stratford with a bowl of candy in hand, "You're here early; we weren't quite..." the man was saying until his gaze fell on me, "Duncan, what are you doing here?"
"Hello, Dr. Stratford," I greeted the man, and before he could respond, Kat appeared, gently pushing her father aside, "I'm going out in a date with PJ," Kat said sarcastically as she smiled at Gabe, who was silently eyeing the bowl in the short man's hands.
"What?," Mr. Stratford said, surprised.
"I asked Mom, and she said it was okay," taking the bowl from her father's hand, Kat said before pouring a large amount of candy into Gabe's bag, "see you later, Dad," returning the bowl with much fewer candies, Kat said, dragging me across their porch.
"Doctor; we're just going trick-or-treating with my brother and some other kids. I'll bring her back in a few hours," being pulled along by Kat while Gabe followed us happily, digging into his bag, I bid goodbye to Mr. Stratford, feeling the need to explain to avoid any further misunderstanding with the man, who simply stood under his door, obviously surprised before slowly entering his house, apparently resigned.
"You must be Gabe, I've heard a lot about you," smiling at my brother, Kat said as I opened the car and adjusted the seat for Gabe to get in.
"I haven't heard anything about you, but I already like you," still maintaining his smile, Gabe said, silently thanking for the candies in his possession.
"Your dad didn't hate me anymore," frustratedly, I said inside the car as Kat rummaged through the CDs that she had made me buy several days ago.
"I thought it was funny, Charlie Brown," shrugging her shoulders arrogantly, Kat joked about my costume, "you need more CDs; we have to go shopping in a few days."
"Is she your new girlfriend?" from the back seat, Gabe, who had been silent for several minutes, asked.
"No," at the same time, Kat and I responded, "she's my friend," I explained.
"Oh, that's too bad; I like her more than the other one," alongside the sound of metallic wrappers, Gabe affirmed.
"You never met Regina, kiddo," I said, trying to see what my brother was doing through the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, and she never gave me candies, but she did," excitedly, Gabe said pointing to Kat, "look at this, full bars," leaning over, the boy showed me a large open chocolate bar.
Laughing at the whole interaction, Kat said nothing as she put one of the CDs, "Did you buy my brother with candies?" ironically, I asked the teenager, who without answering, turned up the volume of the speakers.
Outside Alan's house as we got out of the car, Gabe, who also got out to take advantage of trick-or-treating at one of my friend's houses again, was ready to run and ring the bell until I stopped him by the shoulder.
"Gabe, one of Alan's brothers is a very special kid," speaking seriously to the boy, I said, "that doesn't mean anything bad," I clarified, "it's just that he can be much more sensitive to some things like sudden noises or bright lights," I continued, "he may also have trouble interacting, but don't take it as an insult because it's not, understand?" I asked, trying to make the seriousness of the matter known to the boy.
"Yeah, he's like Sheldon," assumed Gabe.
"Well, you could say that, but unlike Sheldon, I don't want you to make fun of him never, are we clear?" again, being as serious as possible, I asked the boy, squinting my eyes.
"Yeah, don't worry, PJ," relaxedly, Gabe affirmed.
Before even reaching halfway to my friend's house, the door of the house opened, revealing a little boy with a furrowed brow behind him Alan, along with another little boy with thick glasses on his face, slightly grabbed the clothing of my friend as they came out of the house.
"Hey," greeted Alan when he was close enough.
"Hi, how did you know we had arrived?" intrigued, I asked.
"Braxton saw you coming," my calm friend explained, putting a hand on the head of the first child who came out.
"So, Braxton and Christian," greeting the children, I pushed my brother slightly, "this is Gabe."
"Hey," greeting the other kids, Gabe raised his hand slightly, only being responded to by Braxton.
"Well, let's go."
Alan took a seat in the back of the car, serving as a 'barrier' between Braxton, Gabe, who quickly became friends due to Gabe's surprising act of sharing his candies, and Christian, who was murmuring things against the side of the car, also enjoying a candy nervously.
Arriving home, there were very few children on the street grouped together as they asked for candies in the neighborhood houses, "hurry, PJ, the best candies," eagerly in the back of the car, Gabe said as I parked 'Debbie.'
Gabe and Braxton, followed by a nervous Christian, ran to the Cooper's house to call Missy and Sheldon and then to the Spark's; I had promised their parents to keep an eye on them.
While we waited for the little army of children to gather, Alan, Kat, and I were leaning against 'Debbie,' talking, mostly them, about the costumes of the kids around us and their origins.
"You really are like a caveman; how is it possible that you don't know who the ninja turtles or the Flintstones are?" teasingly, Kat asked.
"I know Scooby-Doo," pointing to a kid dressed as a dog in the distance, I said, trying to defend myself.
"My mother knows Scooby-Doo," Kat replied incredulously, "do you really do nothing but read books and exercise?" rhetorically, the teenager asked again.
"PJ!" Missy, dressed in a glittery pink dress, shouted cheerfully as she was followed by the other kids.
"Like my costume? I'm a Valerian princess," showing her dress, pushing Kat, who was next to me, Missy asked.
"You're totally a Valerian princess," I replied, avoiding laughing at Kat's reaction to being pushed by Missy.
"Hello, Sheldon, or should I say Nikola Tesla?" I asked, seeing the boy dressed formally with a fake mustache and extravagant hair.
"Correct, I knew you'd get it," excitedly, Sheldon said, inclining his head slightly.
"I'm a cowboy," alongside them, Billy Sparks, with his ever-present smile, exclaimed.
"Perfect Billy, well, let's go get some candies," I said, smiling at the innocent boy.
"I think I gave my candies away too quickly," walking beside me in a whisper, Kat said.
"What's wrong, Stratford, are you scared of a nine-year-old girl?" smiling arrogantly, I asked.
"You haven't seen how she looks at me," rigidly, Kat said, pointing her eyes fixed ahead.
Ahead of us, accompanying the other children, Missy walked cheerfully, turning every so often with a great hatred towards Kat.
"Oh yeah, that can't be good," I said, amused by the sudden rivalry that the little girl was surely inventing in her head.
While we accompanied the kids to ask for candies, I had once again underestimated my 'popularity', this time among the neighborhood kids; seeing me on the street, many of the kids who recognized me from my babysitting work or the kids Gabe used to play with joined us, guided by Gabe who recognized the majority of them.
In some way, gathering information with the local kids, Gabe organized a list of the best houses, baptizing it as the 'perfect route' to ask for candies; every door that opened was surprised by the number of kids in front of their house at the same time.
"So all those kids know you?" seeing the large number of costumed kids in front of us, Kat asked with a mocking tone in her voice.
"Yeah, I've babysat some of those kids, and occasionally I go out to play with Gabe, and a lot of kids join us," I explained calmly, greeting new kids who joined the group.
"So, besides studying and working out, you go out and play with a bunch of kids, What? Hide and seek?" sarcastically, Kat asked.
"Yeah, and sometimes I go to the comic book store with Gabe and Sheldon," I replied without shame.
"PJ," again, in what seemed like a repetitive event tonight, someone called my name.
"Hey, kids," turning to discover who called me, I found the Wilkerson brothers walking with their own pillowcases, seemingly quite full.
"What are you doing here, trick-or-treating?" Francis, who carried a backpack in addition to his pillowcase, asked amused, apparently trying to tease me.
"I'm watching my brother and some other kids. What do you have in the backpack?" maintaining the pace, I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Nothing, why?" taken by surprise, Francis, along with his brothers, except for the little Dewey, nervously took a step back.
"Reese, what does your brother have in the backpack?" staring at the boy, I asked again. Reese, feeling pressured by my question, took another step back nervously, audibly swallowing.
"There's nothing in the backpack," standing in front of his brother, Francis said completely serious.
"Yes, he doesn't have anything in there," accompanying his older brother, Malcolm repeated, a bit nervous.
I knew whatever they were hiding couldn't be good; knowing the kids, I could expect some prank for the houses or people unfortunate enough to cross their path.
"Look who's here," before I could continue pressing any of the kids for the truth, from the road in an expensive-looking SUV, someone shouted, "it's sucker punch!" from the window in the SUV, the teenager who had attacked me several days ago was half out the window, laughing with other teenagers inside the car.
"Is this some kind of joke?" surprised, I asked.
"Oh and look who else we have here, the queer is also here," seeing me, the teenager shouted.
"I didn't punch you," calmly and nonchalantly, Alan said, "I just knocked you down," the calm teenager explained.
"Do you think you're funny, idiot?" opening the door of the SUV and stepping out with the other guys who accompanied him, the agitated teenager shouted again.
"Not especially," Alan replied, crossing his arms.
"You're the idiot at the party," angry, Kat shouted, sidestepping Alan, who had silently placed himself between the agitated teenager and everyone else, "why would you hit someone without a real reason? Whatever Regina told you is a lie; they broke up, and PJ doesn't want her, so don't be an idiot," seemingly intending to advance, Kat continued shouting.
"What?" the agitated teenager, surprised by the sudden furious shouts of the girl, said, "Regina didn't tell me anything; he was following her. On our first date, he was there; he even interrupted us with a toy gun, and then at the party, we were in the kitchen, and he showed up. Then while dancing, he also approached us. When we were leaving and I was waiting outside for Regina, he coincidentally left too," being supported by his friends behind him, the foolish teenager said.
"What?" incredulous, I asked, "I didn't interrupt you; it was my younger brother, and we were there for ice cream," exasperated, I said, "and at the party, I never saw you; I was with her almost all night," pointing to Kat, I felt strangely offended, I spent over a week with a sore face because of the idiocy of a jealous drunk teenager.
It was astonishing how idiocy could be discerned on the face of the teenager as he pondered the viability of what I had just said, mouth agape and squinting his eyes, it took him several seconds before he closed his mouth again and furrowed his brow, "I might have made a mistake," embarrassed, the foolish teenager admitted.
"Really?" Kat, also apparently incredulous about the turn of events, asked.
"Fire!" suddenly, one of the idiot teenager's friends shouted; inside the SUV with the doors open, we could see the illumination that only a small fire could cause, quickly, the teenager who was driving the SUV ran to where the fire could be seen, "oh my God, is this shit?" after beating and extinguishing whatever was burning inside the SUV, the teenager, looking at his hands and dirty clothes, shouted, "my dad's going to kill me," he continued.
Before anyone could ask what was happening, eggs started raining down on the car and the teenagers who were still outside it, "oh God, these eggs are rotten," with seemingly an endless amount of eggs following them, the teenagers quickly jumped into the now egg-covered SUV a few seconds before speeding away down the road.
As I watched the SUV disappear down the road, I could only shake my head, thinking about how the dumbest teenager I've ever met managed to 'kick my ass.'
"And don't come back," standing in the middle of the street, throwing an egg, Reese laughed excitedly.
Apparently, all the interaction with the other teenagers had caught the attention of all the kids, who had somehow acquired a bunch of eggs and, if what the teenager driving the SUV said was true, some excrement.
Francis, in the midst of the crowd of kids, innocently carried an now empty backpack, "I guess if I look in that backpack now, I won't find anything," unable to help it, I smiled slightly at the kid.
"Probably some rolls of toilet paper," also smiling, Francis said.
"Okay, I think we can still hit a few more houses before everyone has to go home," looking at the sky, I said, estimating how much natural light was left.
With the deadline I gave, the kids quickly set off.
"PJ," staying behind, Sheldon walked at my pace.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"The older kid had the eggs and a paper bag in his backpack," discreetly, he said.
"I know," amused by the tattletale kid, I replied, lightly tapping his shoulder.
"You won't tell his mom, will you?" Sheldon asked.
"Don't worry about that, Sheldon. You should hurry; I'm not sure there'll be enough candies when you get there," pointing to the next house on the 'perfect route' list.
"Oh jinkies," the kid exclaimed before quickly walking to the house.
Laughing with my two friends, we continued following the kids to the last few houses.
After the last house on the list, seeing the lack of light in the street, I sent all the kids home.
Accompanying the kids who lived in the same direction as me, we headed home, leaving Sheldon, Missy, and Billy at their respective homes.
"Go inside, kiddo," tousling my brother's hair, I ordered him.
"See you later," after saying goodbye to Braxton, Gabe ran inside, surely to enjoy more candies.
"PJ, would you mind dropping us off first?" pointing to his brothers, Alan asked.
"Oh yeah, sure, but why?" I asked.
"Christian needs to go to the bathroom," my friend explained, "and he won't go into a new bathroom unless Mom checks it first," he continued.
"I see, then let's hurry," I said quickly, opening the door of 'Debbie' and adjusting the seat for them to climb into the back.
After dropping off Alan and his brothers, Kat, who for Christian's sake kept the volume of the music low, immediately turned it back up almost to the maximum, singing loudly along with the songs.
Outside the Stratford's house still inside the car, "so?" lowering the volume of the music and leaning over my seat, I asked suggestively, smiling at my friend and stretching my hand behind her.
"What?" taken aback and tensing up, Kat nervously asked.
Staring into her eyes for a few seconds in silence with my hand resting on the car door behind her now, "are all the Duncans equally annoying?" I asked, unlocking the door and smiling before backing up to my seat.
"You're such an idiot," hitting my arm, Kat shouted annoyed, closing her eyes and hitting her head against the backrest of her seat.
"I thought it was funny, Lucy Van Pelt," mimicking her sass from earlier, I said, smiling.
"Go to hell, you're so petty," laughing, Kat opened the door and got out of 'Debbie,' "see you at school, Charlie Brown," she said, leaning in before closing the door.
After Kat entered the safety of her house, I decided to take a risk and change my inability to defend myself.
Remembering where Bob had told me the container company was, I headed there, following the map in my glove compartment.
The place by the side of the road honestly looked like the perfect place to hide a corpse. Maneuvering the car through all the garbage and scraps of metal, I arrived a few meters from a trailer.
In an open space surrounded by a line of lights with a single worn-out punching bag hanging from a support beam and several rudimentary equipment, two ridiculously large and muscular shirtless men were circling each other, throwing punches that didn't quite connect.
Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and walked up to the two practicing. One of the men was a shorter black man than the other, who, upon closer inspection, was a white man at least a few years older than me.
The black man was the first to notice my presence, stopping the other with a calm hand motion.
"Good evening, I'm looking for Case Walker," somewhat intimidated by the two people in front of me, I asked.
"What?" the black man frowned, asking.
"I'm PJ," I said, taking his question as an answer, "I was wondering if you could teach me, you know, how to fight."
"Why would I teach you?" the man asked, crossing his arms, "do I know you? Are you related to me? Do I owe you a favor?" he continued asking.
"My dad told me to come," I said, although Bob had also told me the man was nice.
"Your Dad?" with exasperation, the man asked again.
"Bob Duncan," I quickly responded.
"Oh, the exterminator," seemingly finally remembering, the man nodded slightly, "do you have money?" the man asked suddenly.
"How much?" I asked.
"For now, twenty dollars a week and a five-pound bag of potatoes," the man who I now knew was Case Walker responded.
A bag of potatoes?
"Yeah, okay," nodding without hesitation, twenty dollars didn't seem like much to me, and I was sure the bag of potatoes wouldn't be much more expensive.
"Okay, here's the deal, I teach you, and you pay me in blood, sweat, and money," the man said seriously, "I don't teach you what you want, I teach you what you need," he continued, "now what I teach you here becomes yours to do what you want with," he calmly clarified, "come here regularly or don't come at all," he finished.
"Now let me see," looking me up and down, he said, "football," he affirmed, shaking his head, "at least you're in some kind of shape, but it's useless to carry weight if you don't know what you're doing."
"I know how to lift weights," feeling a bit offended, I said. I knew very well the process behind lifting weights, from muscle capacity to limb mobility.
"Shut the fuck up," raising his hand, Case frowned, "I'm not talking about your technique; you need to exercise useful muscles, not just flashy ones," the man continued, "one more rule, you'll do what I say or get the fuck out."
"Have you ever thrown a punch?" approaching me, the man asked.
"Yes," I immediately responded, once.
"Show me," squinting his eyes, Case ordered.
"Now?" taken by surprise, I asked, looking at my Charlie Brown costume. It probably would have been a good idea to go home and change my clothes.
"No, in a month," sarcastically, Case said, stepping in front of me, "come on, throw a punch," bringing his hands to his body, he ordered again.
Deciding not to speak again, I mimicked what he and the other guy were doing when I arrived, throwing a straight punch towards Case. I was going to stop before making contact, but the man stopped my fist on his own, "look at this motherfucker," with my arm in his hand, the man turned to the other person, "if you hit something like this, you're going to break your hand. How long have you been doing this?" incredulously, he asked.
"Once," for some reason, feeling embarrassed, I responded.
"Okay, there's work to be done," letting go of my arm, Case said, turning to the other guy, "hey, Tim, show the kid how to throw a proper punch and take turns with fifty each."
Once again, someone who's not House calls me a kid, "hey man, Tim Newhouse," said the man now known as Tim, "PJ Duncan," I said, fist-bumping Tim.
"Now, to throw a punch, you have to have good posture and foot positioning. Your arm has to be straight, and your hand as well, or you'll break your wrist," Tim began to explain.
After training and being shown the correct technique for other things like kicking and covering, now without the top part of my costume, Tim and I began stretching on orders from Case, who was doing pull-ups on a pipe hanging from the ceiling.
"So, what's Case all about?" I asked as Tim showed me the proper way to stretch.
"I found out he was a jiu-jitsu champion in Brazil several years ago, and inside 'Daisy' his trailer, I saw flags from Japan and Thailand, so he may also be an expert in Judo and Muay Thai. But I don't think that's all he knows; I saw him fight once in a bar for money, and he's a beast," Tim said.
"And why does he live here, if he's so good, why doesn't he go pro?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"He's on probation, does anything and goes back to prison," Tim whispered in response.
Case was still doing his strange pull-ups, seemingly without much effort. If anyone could teach me how to defend myself, it was an expert in Jiu Jitsu, Judo, and Muay Thai, whatever those were, an ex-convict and unfriendly, in some ways like House but in completely different areas of expertise.
"Same time tomorrow you may have heart, take this," Case said, handing me a piece of paper when he finished.
"What's this?" I asked, opening the note. "Your new diet," Case said, apparently as a farewell, walking to his trailer home and closing the door behind him.
"Let me see that," Tim said, taking the note from my hand as he gathered his things. "Two options, you're either bulking or Case is going to make you need a lot of energy," Tim said, returning the paper to me and lightly tapping my shoulder as we walked out of the compound.
"Nice car," Tim paused as we reached my car.
"Thanks, need a ride home?" I asked.
"Oh no, my truck is parked on the other side, but thanks," Tim politely declined.
For a guy so big, he was surprisingly kind.
When I got home, I could feel a bit of pain in my knuckles, although despite hitting many times and with force, it was much less painful than when I hit the idiot teenager.
Inside the house "where were you, PJ?" Mom asked, seated next to Bob on the couch in the living room as they watched a movie on TV.
"Sorry, Mom, it got later than I planned, I was with Case Walker," I said, widening my eyes at Bob, emphasizing the last part of my sentence.
"Oh," Bob said quietly.
"Who?" Mom asked.
Fortunately, it wasn't too late at night, or Mom's scolding would have probably woken up the whole neighborhood. Only by promising Mom earnestly that I wouldn't pick fights could I put an end to her furious lecture.
The next day, I accompanied Mom to buy groceries, using the list Case had given me, adding, apart from the usual, a large amount of meat and grains, and to Mom's surprise, a five-pound bag of potatoes.
At the same time as the previous day, I trained with Case and Tim, with Case paying more attention this time, correcting the flaws in my posture. "Before you move on to any technique, you have to learn the basics," Case said as he showed me by strongly hitting the worn-out punching bag hanging in the center of the compound.
In the end, after stretching, "don't come tomorrow, Sundays are for resting," Case said again, walking back to his home without saying goodbye.
After saying goodbye to Tim, I returned home.
The Sunday passed without much happening, resting, watching cartoons with Gabe, and studying books I had from the hospital library.
After that, instead of my daily routine freeing up as I had hoped, it got even busier. During the week, I went to school and then to the hospital, where I spent almost all my time either in the library or in some lab skill, or when House remembered his duty at the free clinic, practically doing the man's work, now adding my training with Case, I had practically no time to do anything else.
At school, Sheldon being an essential part of the football team's victories was already common knowledge, to the misfortune of my little friend, teenagers enjoyed lifting him off the ground and giving him hugs when they got close enough.
To my misfortune, Sheldon was my little friend. Before, I had to accompany him through the school hallways to protect him from unconscious teenagers, now those same teenagers actively sought his presence, so I had to avoid every few people who lifted him up.
"PJ, is it within your capabilities to prevent them from hugging me or trying to high-five me?" Sheldon asked, almost at the end of the week, apparently tired of all the forced contact he was receiving, hopefully.
"No, sorry buddy, but that's beyond my abilities," I said, secretly amused by the way the kid talked.
"I understand," Sheldon nodded with disappointment in his voice.
Many more days passed following my daily routine with some changes in the techniques Case showed me, although they all still focused on punches and kicks. Eight days later, the next game of the season arrived, following the new plays made especially for the opposing team, again in an impressive streak for Medford's history, as I was told, we won a game.
My 'ability' to protect Sheldon the day after the game was incredibly reduced, the excitement over the new winning streak made the airborne time my little friend received almost impossible to avoid.
That weekend, aside from Case starting to show me 'combos,' I had another invitation to a party.
On Sunday, forcing Alan to come again, we arrived at a party practically a few houses from mine, since we were no longer in the affluent street, the house was practically the same size as mine and the Coopers', appearing compared to Joey's party, few people inside the house.
"Missy," as I tried to step out of the house for a bit of fresh air in the center of the 'dance floor' in the house, I found my little neighbor in a costume with wings dancing happily.
"PJ, let's dance," Missy shouted with a big smile over the volume of the music.
"What are you doing here?" I asked carrying her under my arm, ignoring her surprised shout.
"The weird friend of Sheldon brought us," Missy replied, now amused, hanging under my arm.
"Wait, Sheldon is here?" I asked, surprised.
"Put me down!" I heard Sheldon's voice from behind me, in a very high-pitched tone.
"Your mom is going to be so mad," lifting Missy onto my shoulders to avoid bumping into anyone at the party, I said.
"Totally," amused, probably unaware of what I said, Missy responded as she continued to dance on my shoulders.
"Put him down," arriving where they had Sheldon, dangerously passing the boy from hand to hand over people's heads, I ordered the last teenager holding the kid.
"Or what?" arrogantly, the chubby teenager holding Sheldon above his head asked.
"What do you mean 'or what'? just put him down, idiot," annoyed with the teenager, I said.
"Come on, Duncan, I know you're the quarterback and all, but we all know anyone can kick your butt," the chubby teenager continued confidently as he shook Sheldon over his head.
"Please put me down!" Sheldon shouted with desperation in the air, squirming in the chubby teenager's hand.
"Missy, hold on tight," letting go of the girl's legs, as I had trained at least a hundred times with Case, I quickly adjusted my feet and hips, releasing a powerful punch to the stupid teenager's face.
Managing to catch Sheldon before he fell, I gently placed the boy on the ground before holding Missy's legs again, who was thoroughly amused by the show.
Despite delivering a strong blow, my hand didn't hurt.
"Thanks, PJ," breathless but still maintaining decorum, Sheldon said as he smoothed out his clothes, in this case, a robe.
"Don't mention it," I said, leaving the pained teenager on the ground and walking through the surprised people, followed closely by Sheldon, searching for someone.
"Missy, Sheldon, what are you doing here?" finding my target in the house, Georgie asked, surprised to see his siblings.
"What are you doing here? You're grounded," shouting over the music to his brother, Sheldon responded.
"I found them for you, I recommend taking them home," I said, putting down a reluctant Missy from my shoulders.
After the Cooper kids left the house, I looked for Alan at the party to leave, unlike the previous party, I recommended my friend to bring a change of clothes so he could stay at my house again.
The next day in the morning, being accompanied by Alan as usual, Gabe and I went out for a run.
When we returned, each of us took a quick shower before having breakfast at the kitchen table. Since Alan and I went to school in my car, we weren't in a hurry to leave.
When we entered the kitchen, Gabe and the other members of my family were already having breakfast.
"What?" Teddy asked after I stared at her for a few seconds when we entered.
"Oh nothing, I was just expecting you to run away screaming like the last time you saw Alan," I said sarcastically as I took my breakfast indicated by Case.
"Not funny," Teddy muttered, ignoring Mom's intrigued look.
Nothing interesting happened that day beyond a fairly simple algebra exam.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, nor a doctor, AND not a fighter.
Although I've watched a wide range of fighting movies, I'm not an expert fighter or anything similar. The most I've trained in my life was taekwondo for a few years in my childhood and a few months of boxing before the pandemic.
I've been involved in dozens of fights unfortunately not initiated by me, yay bullying (Is anyone surprised by this. I've said many times that I'm a mathematics student, therefore a total nerd.), so I know how it feels to have pain in my fists after hitting someone and especially the pain after receiving a blow.
The training sessions with Case will be mostly summarized, due to my clear lack of knowledge. Obviously, from time to time, to practice my writing, I'll try to describe some of the things they do, but unless it's a fight or part of the story's development, the training sessions will be summarized.
Kat is intended as an important part of the MC's life at this moment, and if you can't bear her presence, I really don't know what to tell you. I try to write her as best I can according to the personality she presents in the movie and the one I imagine she had before some events occurred in her life.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
keyakedo
RandomPasserby96
11332223
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
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone