Daily Drama (In American TV Shows)

(Previously existing note) 

I find it quite sad that the monthly top is always full of trashy novels with thousands of power stones, obviously from bots. Always remember to support the novels you enjoy (not necessarily mine) with power stones, so that the novels that truly deserve it can get the visibility they need.

(New note) 

I'm Back!!!

For those who didn't read the comment in the last chapter and were expecting a new chapter this week, I apologize for there not being one. Due to heavy rains, the power in much of my city was intermittent for several days, so much so that I had to disconnect most of my appliances to prevent damage from the sudden outages.

I can't even imagine what those less fortunate, who were closer to the hurricane, went through. I hope all your loved ones are safe.

Enjoy.

---

Without even thinking, I immediately stood up and guided the two teenagers to lay the third one on the bed, who was still suffering from what was clearly a seizure.

"He was fine," a woman said nervously as she entered behind the boys into the infirmary, possibly another teacher from the school.

"Gladis, call emergency services," I exclaimed while doing a quick physical examination of the boy, trying to stay calm. Gladis was still sitting in her chair, seemingly in shock. "How long has it been? An approximation," I asked seriously, looking at the people who had entered the infirmary.

"One minute," one of the boys answered worriedly, shrugging his shoulders.

The boy wasn't making erratic movements or salivating profusely. There was no rigidity in his body, except for his abdomen, which was swollen. But he was breathing rapidly, even though he had likely lost consciousness. I also noticed his complexion; he looked bad—sweaty, pale, and definitely bradycardic. His pulse, from what I could tell, was below sixty beats per minute, and on top of everything, I detected a faint chemical odor coming from his pants, possibly drugs.

"What happened?" I asked, still focused on the boy on the bed. "Someone?" I asked again after not getting a response for a few seconds. "And what's his name?"

"He was fine one moment and the next, he wasn't," the woman, who I recognized as a teacher, responded, clearly frustrated and possibly worried.

"I can imagine that part. I want to know if anything specific happened. Did he walk? Say something? Or did he just collapse where he stood?" I asked seriously, concentrating on counting the beats per minute of his pulse.

"His name is Matt. He stood up from his seat, murmuring something, and slowly walked to the front of the classroom. He stopped, and then collapsed just as you see him now," fortunately, one of the other boys, understanding what I was asking for, nervously answered.

"Good," I said, nodding with concern, as his pulse continued to drop.

"The ambulance is on its way," Gladis finally said nervously, much slower than she should have been, standing next to me and looking at the teenager on the bed through her small glasses.

A couple of minutes later, the teacher and the other students had left the infirmary.

The seizure had ended after approximately three minutes, and now, with his breathing much more relaxed, I too felt calmer.

As I checked the unconscious boy once again, Principal Petersen, followed by a pair of paramedics, quickly entered the infirmary.

"Male patient, eighteen years old, unconscious, presenting with bradycardia, abdominal swelling, and an odor of unknown chemicals. No further medical history," I said immediately upon seeing the paramedics, stepping aside to let them do their job.

"Got it," one of the paramedics responded seriously, preparing with his partner to lift the boy onto their stretcher.

"That was exhilarating," Gladis suddenly exclaimed, placing her hand on her chest as soon as Principal Petersen and the paramedics left the infirmary.

"Yeah, it was," I replied slowly, looking at the elderly woman with concern. "Take a seat," I added gently, taking her arm and guiding her to her chair. I didn't want her to have a heart episode because of the situation.

"I missed this feeling," she said with a smile from her chair, seemingly enjoying more than just the fact that a student had gone through a medical episode. "I remember when I met my husband at a first aid shop on the military base. He was a soldier," she continued a moment later, apparently calming her heart, effortlessly creating another story about her late husband.

Gladis was telling me how her husband had received the Medal of Honor in World War II without ever using a weapon when the infirmary door was suddenly opened again.

"You're still here," Principal Petersen said, visibly relieved to see me. "I need to know what to tell Mrs. Hart when she calls, asking what happened to her son."

"Probably something about drugs," Gladis, completely oblivious to who Principal Petersen was talking to, responded indifferently.

"Or that when the paramedics arrived, Matt was stable enough to be taken to the hospital. He's going to need medical tests and possibly be admitted," I said slowly, as if I were merely offering a suggestion.

"Right," Principal Petersen nodded. "Thank you, Gladis," he continued, nodding to the elderly woman before leaving the infirmary.

"You kids and your drugs, remind me to tell you about the time my husband single-handedly took down a mafia boss," Gladis said as she leaned over to pull a pack of cigarettes from her desk drawer. "I'm going to take a break; all this commotion has rattled my nerves," she added as she slowly stood up.

"Sure," I replied, amused by the increasingly fantastical stories she told, laughing.

The rest of the day at school, what had happened with Matt spread quickly as a rumor.

"How true is it that a senior nearly died and you saved his life?" Kat asked, sitting next to me in detention, drawing the attention of the other people present, including Mr. Givens.

"About one percent true. I didn't do anything other than a physical exam," I quickly responded. I didn't need more false rumors circulating around school.

"I knew it," Kat said proudly.

"Let me guess, there's a rumor going around that I performed open-heart surgery on Matt," I said, slightly frustrated and sarcastic.

"Basically," Kat said with a grin, pulling out her stuff to, like the previous days, do her homework with my help.

A few minutes passed while Kat worked on her math homework, occasionally asking me questions about the procedures.

"And whatever happened to him, do you think it's contagious?" she suddenly asked, interested, as if she had been thinking about it for a while. Once again, the others in the room, pretending not to notice our conversation, fell silent to listen carefully.

"It's quite likely," I said, smiling mischievously and winking at my friend, noticing out of the corner of my eye how Mr. Givens, who was in front of us, suddenly stiffened. "But I'm not entirely sure," I added calmly.

"I think that's enough for today," Mr. Givens said, standing up immediately and pretending to be calm. "Enjoy your Friday," he added, quickly leaving the classroom, followed shortly after by the other students.

"It's a lie, right?" Kat asked with a smile and a faint tone of worry.

"Is it?" I asked playfully.

"Idiot," she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation and giving me a light punch on the shoulder before packing up her things.

"I've got about forty minutes before my mom expects me home. Want to grab a chocolate milkshake?" I asked, feeling slightly rebellious after the apparent success of my innocent prank as we left the classroom.

"A chocolate milkshake?" Kat raised an eyebrow.

"They're amazing," I declared, slightly offended, with no intention of debating the matter.

"You've got a problem," Kat said, amused by my reaction.

After drinking the milkshakes at the mall, as usual, I took Kat home before heading to the Kingman house to drop off the final notes of the week. Once again, Mrs. Kingman greeted me, as Mr. Kingman was at the gym, taking measurements to start working over the weekend without affecting business too much.

When I got home, my mom, who had apparently heard my car pull up, walked seriously toward the door.

"What?" I asked, worried, thinking she might have found out about my outing with Kat to the mall.

"Was there an accident at school?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Yeah, a senior had a seizure. I did a physical exam and sent him to the hospital, stable," I replied, surprised that she knew. Had Mr. Cooper told her?

"I heard it from Dr. House," as if she had read my mind, my mom said, sighing. "He called, apparently he needs you," she added, shaking her head slightly.

"Did he take Matt's case?" I asked, surprised. If so, there was a big chance it wasn't drugs after all. That's the first thing any regular doctor would think. House would reject Matt just for that reason. There must be something more.

"Apparently, another student from your school was admitted an hour ago," my mom explained, sounding worried.

"Another one?" I asked, puzzled, lost in thought. Could it be something contagious? No, there would be more than two sick people.

"Don't take this as leniency on my punishments," she added, annoyed. "You can go," she continued, turning on her heels and walking back to her room.

Without thinking twice, intrigued by the case, I ran out of the house and jumped into my car, heading straight for the hospital.

At the hospital, I quickly greeted the nurses who were happy to see me. Thinking back on everything I remembered about Matt from the infirmary, I walked towards the diagnostics lounge.

"But look who it is, the wonder kid himself, too famous to show up here?" Before I could reach the diagnostics lounge, in one of the hospital corridors, House's always sarcastic voice stopped me in my tracks.

House, along with Chase, Cameron, and Dr. Foreman, was gathered outside the patient rooms.

"Very funny," I said, fake-laughing at House's comment as I walked towards the doctors. "Hi," I greeted three-quarters of the group, surprisingly even getting a response from Dr. Foreman.

"It happened at your school. How much do you know about the case? I don't have time to catch you up," House abruptly cut off the cordial interaction, asking pointedly.

"I was in the school infirmary when Matt collapsed," I explained.

"Of course you were," Chase said, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Matt?" House asked, frowning.

"The first patient," Cameron explained, rolling her eyes.

"Oh," House said, completely uninterested in the detail. "Why were you in the school infirmary?"

"Part of my punishment," I explained.

"And what about the second one, do you know anything?" House asked again, nodding quickly at Cameron.

"Only what my mom told me. Same symptoms as Matt," I replied.

"Well, that's good," House said, nodding slowly. "The bad news is, we don't need you here anymore. I don't even know why you came," House declared, smiling maliciously.

Exasperated by House's grin, I could only roll my eyes. "Did I get here too late?" I asked, slightly disappointed.

"Only by a few minutes," Chase declared, smiling. "They were exposed to ethyl-parathion."

"Insecticide? Where were they exposed?" I asked, surprised.

"On the school bus," Cameron responded. "It was used on the route the bus takes."

"Oh, that must be what I smelled on his pants," I added, realizing.

"What?" House raised an eyebrow, smirking suggestively.

"Matt's clothes smelled like chemicals," I explained, ignoring House's mockery. "At first, I thought it was drugs."

"Obviously," House said, with exaggerated obviousness, smiling at Dr. Foreman.

"It doesn't make sense," Chase said, frowning, visibly annoyed.

"What doesn't?" I asked, confused.

"That you could smell the insecticide on Matt's clothes," Chase explained. "There wasn't enough residue on the bus seat for the smell to be present," he continued seriously. "Are you sure you didn't smell something else?"

"Yeah, what did you really smell?" House asked, pretending to be overly intrigued.

"It's a theory worth checking," Cameron said, ignoring House's joke and shrugging her shoulders.

"Yes, it is," House said, still amused, causing Cameron to nod and walk away.

"Now do you see why I came?" I asked sarcastically.

"Don't get arrogant," House said, walking away, still smiling.

"Yeah, sorry, that's your job," I replied, amused.

"The smell on the pants—that was a great catch," surprisingly, Dr. Foreman said calmly, much to both Chase's and my surprise. "Were you the one who told the paramedics and reported the smell?" he asked.

"Yeah," I responded, confused by Dr. Foreman's sudden kind words.

"I need to check why that wasn't reported," Foreman muttered, nodding slowly and looking slightly annoyed. "They can't withhold important information like that."

"Yeah, also the ER doctor, it's impossible that he missed a chemical smell on his pants," Chase said, crossing his arms, agreeing with Foreman.

Foreman walked away, leaving just Chase and me.

"So, what did you do that kept you from coming? The nurses were saying you were grounded?" Chase asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"I got into a fight," I explained, starting to walk with Chase.

"Did you win?" Chase asked, snorting with amusement.

"Please," I said, smiling arrogantly at Chase, exaggerating.

"Sure," Chase said, patting my arm, shaking his head, amused.

In the diagnostics lounge, only House was there, playing with a small yo-yo in his office. Chase, with nothing else to do at the moment, started reading one of the books on the shelves in the room.

"Kid," before I could take a seat in one of the free chairs and possibly copy Chase by reading a book, House called out from his office, making the blond doctor next to me snort in amusement.

Sighing, I put the chair back and walked into House's office.

"A week of clinic duty," House declared while playing with his yo-yo. "That's what you owe me for now," he continued, smiling sinisterly.

"That's your job," I said, incredulous, dragging one of the free chairs in his office to sit down.

"And I'm making you responsible for it, so you owe me a week of clinic duty," House said innocently. "I mean, it's entirely your fault for not coming. And why? A fight?" House pointed to my fists, squinting.

Rolling my eyes, exasperated by his attitude, was all the answer House needed.

"Weird," House murmured, leaning back in his chair, smoothly tossing his yo-yo.

"What?" I asked, intrigued.

"You only have healing wounds on your hands, not your face. Did you fight a gay guy who didn't want to mess up your looks?" House asked unpleasantly.

"This might be new to you, but I won. Fights can be won," I responded with sarcasm, falsely surprising House.

"You won? No way. Did you fight a child? Worse, did you fight someone in a vegetative state?" House asked immediately, effortlessly turning it into a joke.

"No, of course not. I'd never stoop that low... A cripple, on the other hand," I muttered with a sarcastic smile, aimed at him.

"Oh, scary," House declared, raising his free hand in a mock-scared gesture, grinning widely. "You forget I have a cane," he added, lifting his cane slightly, as if in question.

"At least you wouldn't be at that much of a disadvantage," I said, shrugging, amused.

"You know I can turn clinic duty into rectal exams at any moment, right?" House asked, obviously entertained by our banter.

That would be pretty low, even for someone like House... Who am I kidding?

Raising my hands in surrender, I accepted defeat, genuinely worried about having to stick my fingers into another Texan man's rectum.

"Knew it, good choice," House said sarcastically, smiling. "Now, let's see if a week without my incredible presence has ruined your little progress," he continued, leaning back in his chair after putting down his yo-yo.

What followed was a series of questions, each one harder than the last. Completely made-up cases with radical changes from one moment to the next, questions about toxicity on small and large scales, impossible situations with non-existent patients—House was testing me on every aspect of what he considered being a doctor.

"House," interrupting another of his questions, the three doctors under his command entered the office. "Phosdrin," Dr. Foreman said seriously, extending a sheet of printed data. "PJ was right."

Taking the paper from Foreman's hands, House nodded, pausing for a moment as he and everyone else in the room noticed the still surprising fact that Dr. Foreman referred to me by my name.

"Hit 'em with the hydrolase," House ordered after reading the data on the sheet, causing the doctors nodded and turned to leave the way they had entered. "Cameron, go convince the mighty mom to say yes," House said, stopping Cameron before she could leave like Chase and Dr. Foreman.

"I hate being the only one she doesn't hate," Cameron said, rolling her eyes in frustration.

"Liar, you love it," House immediately retorted, squinting his eyes playfully. "Take the kid with you; he might be useful as a bargaining chip," he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay," Cameron sighed, ignoring House's comment and rolling her eyes in exasperation before nodding at me to follow her.

"Is it true you got into a fight, and that's why you didn't come all week?" Cameron suddenly asked as we walked through the hospital corridors.

"Everyone knows?" I asked in disbelief. I thought that outside of school, gossip wouldn't be such a big part of my life. Obviously, I was wrong.

"Your mom told a nurse, and soon enough, everyone knew. I think they all love you," Cameron said, amused, giving me the same explanation Chase had. "But you don't look bruised up... well, except for your knuckles," she continued, taking my hand to inspect my knuckles.

"It was just a small fight," I explained, gently pulling my hand back.

"Fight?" Cameron raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"It caused a big stir because it happened in the cafeteria during lunch. Why does Matt's mom hate everyone? I understand House, but Chase and Dr. Foreman?" Trying to change the subject, I asked, not wanting to continue the conversation about the fight.

"She's not convinced that Chase or Foreman have Matt's best interests at heart," Cameron explained. "And House, well, he was House," she added with a slight ironic nod.

"Let me guess, he insulted her when she questioned your decisions?" I said, imagining what could have happened, unsurprised.

"Yup," the doctor replied, pressing her lips together. "Don't think I didn't notice you changed the subject," Cameron said, suddenly recalling our earlier conversation with a smile.

"One can only dream," I declared with exaggerated disappointment, making Cameron snort and roll her eyes.

"Mrs. Davis, may we talk for a moment?" Cameron said, spotting a woman approaching the coffee table in one of the hospital's waiting rooms.

"Now what, another new treatment?" Mrs. Davis asked, exasperated, as she grabbed a cup to pour herself some coffee from the small machine.

"We really think the hydrolase is the only—" Cameron began, but Mrs. Davis cut her off.

"I'm thinking about transferring Matt out of here," Mrs. Davis said seriously.

"Ms. Davis, your son is very sick; he won't survive a transfer," Cameron quickly said, trying to change the woman's mind.

"I'm getting a second opinion from the Center for Disease Control," Mrs. Davis said angrily, clearly not intending to change her decision.

"Right," Cameron nodded seriously. "Look, when my grandmother got sick—"

"What?" Mrs. Davis interrupted, irritated. "You're gonna tell me about some tough decision you had to make?" she asked sarcastically.

"I know how hard this is for you," Cameron said slowly, realizing her approach wasn't working.

"Maybe embroider the story a little? Make it fit?" Mrs. Davis asked sarcastically, clearly annoyed with Cameron.

"I can't imagine being in your position," Cameron murmured softly, trying to calm Mrs. Davis with her usual kind tone.

"Honesty? A kind of vulnerable honesty, that's your thing, and the looks," Mrs. Davis scoffed, crossing her arms as she held her cup, preparing to leave.

"Oh boy," Cameron murmured, disappointed.

"No, that's not honesty. It's empathy. Honesty is telling you that the CDC won't give a damn about Matt's condition as long as it's not a public health risk," I decided to intervene, taking on the role of the bad cop since Cameron's approach hadn't worked.

"Sorry, what?" Mrs. Davis, seemingly just noticing my presence, asked, surprised.

"As long as whatever Matt has doesn't pose a risk to the general public, the CDC won't pay any attention to the case," I stated dryly. "Especially not in a small town like Medford," I added with a snort. "There aren't enough resources. It would take weeks for them to even notice you sent a fax."

My words seemed to catch Mrs. Davis off guard, and she simply remained silent.

"Who's this?" Mrs. Davis asked Cameron, frowning after a moment.

"This is PJ Duncan," Cameron answered nervously. "He was the first to treat Matt at school. They're classmates. You might know him from the newspa—"

"Oh, PJ Duncan, I know who you are," Mrs. Davis interrupted, raising one of her hands. "You're the one who sent two of Matt's classmates to the hospital," she accused, crossing her arms in anger.

"It was only one," I quickly corrected, defending myself. "And that has nothing to do with this."

"Yeah, just one," Mrs. Davis repeated slowly, scoffing. "Am I supposed to take recommendations from a teenager?" she asked Cameron, pointing at me.

"He knows a lot about medicine," Cameron commented, trying to argue in my favor and shrugging her shoulders.

"I'll wait for the CDC," Mrs. Davis declared firmly, smiling falsely at Cameron. "They send a violent kid and a single woman to hustle the single mom," she muttered as she walked away.

"Actually, they sent one of the greatest medical talents of recent times and a doctor!" Cameron said, straightening up indignantly. "'They' sent us to tell you that if your son doesn't get this treatment, there's a good chance he'll die," Cameron added, stopping the woman in her tracks.

"That's what House said about a treatment that would have killed Matt," Mrs. Davis said, her eyes filled with worry and desperation. "You've gotta do better than that."

"No, it's on you," Cameron replied angrily. "You need to do better right now. Yes or no?" she asked seriously, stepping closer to Mrs. Davis.

"I don't know," Mrs. Davis murmured in defeat, looking Cameron in the eyes.

"Figure it out. Come on, PJ," Cameron said, walking away from the waiting room at a slow pace. "Just a small fight, huh?" a few steps away, Cameron asked me.

"Maybe not that small," I murmured, slightly embarrassed.

"Wait!" a moment later, before we could get much further, Mrs. Davis called out nervously. "Okay, do it," she said, lowering her head, trying to avoid crying.

"Thank you," Cameron murmured to her as we passed by.

"The fight... I was defending a friend," I said awkwardly, feeling the need to explain myself as I stood beside Mrs. Davis in the waiting room.

"I know," she said, covering her mouth with one hand, obviously worried about her son. "I heard what they did to that poor boy," she added as she walked slowly into the room Cameron had entered a moment ago.

Knowing that it was now just a matter of waiting for the hydrolase to take effect, I made my way back to the diagnostic lounge.

House, standing outside the lounge, was talking to an older woman who was speaking unusually close to him.

"So, who's your girlfriend?" I teased as soon as the woman bid House goodbye.

"Oh, don't be jealous. I'm sure if you ask nicely, she can help you out," House said suggestively, raising his eyebrows and gesturing with his hand.

"Don't be gross. What did she want?" I asked, rolling my eyes in exasperation at House's bad joke.

"To live happily on her own terms," House replied flatly.

"Can't blame her," I murmured, shrugging.

"No, definitely not," House said with a small smile, watching the woman walk away. "Did you convince the mighty mom?" he asked once the older woman was out of sight.

"Cameron did," I replied.

"Well, let's hope your strange fetish for sniffing other people's pants was the right call," House declared sarcastically as he walked into Dr. Wilson's office.

As I expected, it took a few hours before Matt and Chi Ling, the second patient, woke up.

Knowing there was nothing more to do at the hospital, I said goodbye to the doctors and went home, feeling content, as I always did after a visit to the hospital.

The days passed, and since it was the weekend, aside from washing the cars—with Gabe's paid help—there wasn't much to do.

On Sunday, shortly after noon, Teddy had made plans with her friends to spend most of the day at the mall after watching a movie. Since Mom was resting in bed and Bob was out on a last-minute job, the responsibility of taking my sister and picking her up later obviously fell on me.

When I returned home after dropping Teddy off with Bianca and Baja in front of the theater, I found Sheldon dressed in layer upon layer of clothing, wearing Georgie's shoulder pads, helmet, and a pair of oven mitts.

"Remember, the birds won't attack you if you don't bother them, Sheldon," I reminded the kid playfully as I got out of my car.

"This isn't for the birds; it's for trying to pet the dog. I think it's time," Sheldon nervously explained.

"And you were waiting for me?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, I thought it would be much better to have some extra protection," Sheldon said seriously, pointing to his outfit.

"So your plan is to use me as a human shield if the dog attacks you?" I asked incredulously.

"Correct," Sheldon responded immediately and completely shamelessly.

"Got it," I said, amused. "Wait here a moment," I added as I entered the house to drop off my things.

Following Sheldon, we walked to the Sparks' yard, where the dog was now chained up, lying on the ground.

"Oh, look at you. You should be free, running wherever you want," I said, approaching the dog and petting it energetically, amused by the animal's excitement.

"PJ, is it safe for me to come closer?" Sheldon asked from behind me, still several steps away from the poor chained dog, clearly scared.

"Yeah, buddy, come on," I said, remembering why we were there.

"Okay, here we go, petting... the dog," Sheldon nervously said as he slowly approached me step by step, finally kneeling beside me. "Keep an eye on him, PJ," Sheldon practically begged.

"Of course," I said seriously, placing a hand on Sheldon's shoulder.

Sheldon moved his hand with extreme caution, almost in slow motion, as he brought it closer to the dog. His eyes squinted in obvious concern, and he finally touched the dog. "I'm doing it. I'm petting a dog," Sheldon murmured, surprised at himself.

"Yeah, that's it, buddy," I said, giving him a light pat on the helmet, proud.

"I've conquered my phobia," Sheldon told me proudly, smiling broadly.

"Yes, you did," I said, amused, as the kid was still wearing at least three layers of clothing between him and the dog.

"You're a good boy, yes you are," Sheldon said proudly, nodding as he continued petting the dog.

I could see Sheldon gradually becoming more comfortable with the idea of petting the dog without fear. I also noticed the dog slowly getting up.

"Nope," I said, grabbing Sheldon by the back of the shoulder pads and lifting him quickly, just barely avoiding the dog licking his face.

"Whoa, what's happening?" Sheldon asked nervously, his feet dangling off the ground.

"Rules I should've told you from the start," I said as I held my free hand near the dog's head for it to lick, lowering Sheldon back to the ground slowly. "The dog won't hesitate to lick whatever's closest, so you need to keep your face away unless you want it licked," I warned him, relieved that I had avoided an inevitable freakout.

"I understand," Sheldon said, now scared, nodding quickly as he watched the dog continue to lick my hand. "I think that's enough for today," Sheldon said, now clearly nervous about the idea of getting licked by the dog, as he moved entirely out of reach of the animal.

"That's fine, great job, buddy," I said, patting Georgie's helmet on Sheldon's head, proud of the kid.

"Thank you," Sheldon said seriously, nodding with pride. "Could you help me take off the gloves?" Sheldon asked as we walked away from the Sparks' yard.

"Sure," I said with a chuckle, helping him with the oven mitts. "There you go," I said, clapping with the mitts in my hands and offering them to him.

"No," Sheldon quickly said, shaking his head rapidly as he backed away from the gloves, afraid.

"Of course," I chuckled, shaking my head and clapping once more with the oven mitts still on as I followed Sheldon back to his house.

Upon entering the Cooper house, the first person I saw was a tall man sitting on one of the living room couches. Across from him, Meemaw, Mrs. Cooper, and Mrs. Sparks were also seated on another couch.

"Good afternoon. I'm pleased to inform you all that I've overcome my fear of dogs," Sheldon announced proudly, seemingly unaware of how ridiculous he looked, still dressed as if he had just come from a football game.

"Oh, really, Shelly?" Mrs. Cooper asked sweetly, putting her hands over her chest with a smile.

"Yes, PJ witnessed me," Sheldon declared, puffing out his chest, as if he felt the need to prove his feat.

"Yep, I witnessed it," I said, amused, smiling at everyone present. "Sorry to intrude, Mrs. Cooper, I came to return these gloves," I added after a moment.

"Oh, thank you so much, PJ, and thank you for helping Sheldon," Mrs. Cooper said as she stood up to take the gloves from my hands.

"What?" Sheldon exclaimed, offended. "He was just there as protection," he quickly added.

"Don't be rude, Shelly," Mrs. Cooper scolded him with a stern look, visibly affecting Sheldon.

"No, he's right. It was all his own effort," I said, patting Sheldon's helmet once more, amused. I had no intention of taking away his small, yet significant, achievement.

"Anyway, thanks, PJ," Mrs. Cooper said seriously, watching her son, who had begun walking toward the bathroom.

"No problem," I responded with a smile.

"Howdy, I don't think we've been properly introduced," the tall man in formal attire, holding a Bible, said with a broad smile, noticing the slightly tense atmosphere between Mrs. Cooper and her youngest son.

"Oh, this is PJ Duncan, our neighbor," Mrs. Cooper quickly said, taking the initiative. "PJ, this is Pastor Jeff from our church," she added.

"Nice to meet you," I said with a smile at the stranger, who seemed to have a perpetual grin on his face.

"The pleasure is all mine," the man replied, still smiling. "I haven't seen you in church. Does your family belong to another one, hopefully not the Catholics?" he asked, leaning in slightly, perhaps joking, causing only Mrs. Cooper to let out a small laugh.

"Oh, no, I don't think we belong to any church. At least, we never go to church," I explained calmly, for the first time seeing the pastor lose his smile for a brief moment.

"Oh, that's bad," he said, tilting his head slightly, but with the smile quickly returning to his face.

"Okay..." I murmured to myself, nodding to the man who continued to smile. "Meemaw, Mrs. Sparks," I greeted, nodding to the two women, who both returned the gesture with broad smiles.

The two women showed obvious signs of having been in a fight, just as Georgie had told me several days ago. Meemaw had a nearly recovered black eye, and Mrs. Sparks was wearing a cap and holding what appeared to be a bag with a clump of hair.

"I heard you were in a fight, Aces, and you won. Maybe you could give me some lessons at that gym of yours for next time," Meemaw said sarcastically while throwing a few mock punches in the air. "What, too soon?" she asked when she saw Mrs. Cooper and Pastor Jeff watching her disapprovingly.

"Wait, the gym that opened next to the video store is yours?" Pastor Jeff suddenly asked, surprised.

I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"I thought it belonged to that guy," the pastor continued, raising his arms as if to show off muscles.

"Case Walker," Mrs. Sparks said with a smile, biting her lip, while Meemaw nodded enthusiastically, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, him," Pastor Jeff said, nodding nervously. "I've received many comments from concerned people who think the place is too violent," he continued.

I noticed how Mrs. Cooper was nodding in agreement with the pastor's words, and I immediately understood the type of "comments" he might be receiving.

"No, he's the owner. I just help him with administrative stuff," I quickly lied. "If you have any concerns, you should take them up directly with Case," I added, avoiding whatever ideas the pastor might be forming in his long head.

The gym didn't need any attacks from a church.

"But couldn't you, you know, pass along some messages? It would be a great deed for the Big Guy upstairs," he said condescendingly, pointing to the ceiling, still smiling.

"No can do," I responded quickly. "Mr. Walker doesn't take well to constructive criticism. Whoever he catches making those comments gets punished horribly," I said, changing the way I referred to Case, pretending to be nervous as I checked the window of the house, as if worried Case might hear. "And I've trained with him since the beginning. I can't imagine what he'd do to someone he doesn't know," I added, pretending to shudder slightly.

Sorry, Case.

I could see Mrs. Cooper frown slightly. She knew Case a little and was aware that, at least with people he didn't train, the muscular man was usually very kind.

Meemaw, on the other hand, seemed to realize her mistake and just nodded in agreement with what I said.

"Oh well, then I'll continue with my efforts to send letters. I haven't received any responses yet, but with a little help," Pastor Jeff said, pointing once again to the ceiling of the Cooper house, "everything is possible," he added, winking.

"That's a great plan," I said, smiling back at the man, while considering sending a few letters on Case's behalf once the gym reopened, just to reassure the pastor. "Oh, look at the time, I've got to go," I said exaggeratedly, glancing at my watch. "Pastor Jeff, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we meet again." That wasn't true.

"The pleasure was all mine, PJ," he said, giving me a weak handshake.

After saying goodbye to everyone else, I quickly headed back home.

---

Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:

RandomPasserby96

11332223

Victor_Venegas

Welcome once again to the top man.

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

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