Ch 5
The next day was a bright Monday morning. Immediately after finishing my breakfast, I was fully ready to head out to school long before any of my siblings were even dressed. I normally chose to go to school with Dad in his truck to avoid the morning rush.
Dad routinely offered the other kids a ride, but they always flatly refused his generous offer. The main issue was that Dad had to arrive at the high school pretty early to prepare for his coaching duties, and nobody else wanted to wake up that early.
I, on the other hand, was genuinely happy to join him in the car every morning. I deeply appreciated the comfortable, relaxed silence of the early commute. It was a peaceful atmosphere that was entirely absent whenever I was forced to ride in Mom's noisy station wagon with other siblings.
"Charlie, how has school been treating you so far?" Dad asked, making a clear attempt to start some casual small talk while we cruised down the road. I knew exactly what this conversation was really about after overhearing my parents discussing my social life in the dining room yesterday.
It was perfectly okay to engage in a little conversation with him this morning. Reading a thick textbook in a moving vehicle usually gives me a terrible headache anyway, so the distraction was somewhat welcome.
"It has been okay," I replied softly, staring out the passenger window and desperately hoping he would just let the conversation end right there.
"Son, you quit the football team, and that is completely okay," Dad began carefully, clearly treading lightly around the subject. "But you really should give other sports a try. Doing something physical will be very good for you."
I could easily see right through his transparent motives. He was hoping that joining a team would naturally force me to socialize and finally make some actual friends. Definitely mom's idea.
Honestly, his idea did have significant merit. I definitely did not want to let my body grow weak, get ill, and end up confined to a hospital bed exactly like I was in my previous life.
"I guess you are right about that. But doing something physical would probably be really good for you too, Dad," I pointed out smoothly. I genuinely wanted him to get healthy and take better care of his heart.
He was sporting that default beer belly that almost every older Texan man seems to inevitably acquire after reaching a certain age.
"Mom would probably love you even more if you managed to get a little slim," I added, trying my best to playfully convince him to change his daily habits.
He just shook his head and laughed it off loudly. "Nice try, kiddo," he chuckled, keeping his eyes firmly on the open road.
"I think running is a good option for me," I finally decided aloud. Running was arguably the best cardiovascular exercise, and it felt incredibly liberating. Runners high was a thing that I wanted to feel.
In my past life, I was tragically bedridden for most of my existence. I would absolutely love to run freely every single day just to properly appreciate the functional body I have now.
Furthermore, it is a well known fact that teenage girls tend to dig fit guys with good stamina. Another massive plus point was that running is a sport mostly done completely alone, which perfectly suited my current antisocial preferences.
"Yeah, running is definitely a good choice. Do you want to join the high school track team then?" Dad asked, his voice perking up with sudden, genuine hope.
"Not for now," I replied, quickly shutting down his coaching dreams. "Maybe I will consider it later, once I actually get good at it." I said that to get him off the case.
We soon arrived at the high school parking lot. Dad dropped me off right near the main entrance gates before heading over to the coaches office. Since I was exceptionally early this morning, there were not very many people wandering around the campus just yet. I immediately made my way straight down the empty corridors toward the library.
My main goal was to quickly return the heavy textbooks I had borrowed over the weekend. However, as I walked, I began to notice a few girls pausing by their metal lockers to give me lingering, highly appreciative looks.
It seems that getting the new haircut really did help my overall appearance significantly.
I had also recently read a fascinating psychology book regarding body language and the subtle mechanics of displaying pure confidence.
I made sure to actively apply those posture techniques as I walked, keeping my back completely straight and my head held high. It genuinely felt incredibly good, I am not going to lie about it.
Having pretty high school girls actively looking at me with genuine interest was a massive ego boost for a freshman. I smiled easily and politely replied to a few good morning greetings as I smoothly passed by their lockers. It was truly shaping up to be a very good morning indeed
___________
Today, it seems Sheldon finally found someone else to bother. He latched onto a Vietnamese kid named Tam. Sheldon had unfortunately discovered my quiet hiding spot in the library, and he promptly dragged Tam over to introduce us. Tam seemed like a perfectly okay kid. I honestly do not know how long he will be able to tolerate Sheldon's eccentricities.
Sheldon proudly told me that Tam was his new best friend, but I immediately recognized it for what it truly was. It was merely a mutual cooperation born out of sheer high school loneliness. Good for Sheldon, I suppose. I did not care much either way, as long as they kept their voices down while I was reading.
Later that day, at home, two incredibly interesting things happened. First, actual federal agents from the FBI showed up at our house while I was peacefully reading in my bedroom.
I quickly bolted out into the hallway to figure out what all the sudden commotion was about. I was highly amused when I spotted two serious looking agents standing behind my parents. My amusement peaked right as I watched a literal model rocket fly horizontally across our living room, leaving a trail of gray smoke in its wake.
"Sorry!" Sheldon yelled frantically from the open backyard. He was probably studying rockets again.
It was a genuinely hilarious sight to look at the stunned faces of my parents and the bewildered federal agents as the projectile crashed into a wall.
That chaotic moment was immediately followed by a grueling two hour lecture. Both the agents and our parents delivered stern warnings to Sheldon about attempting to purchase enriched uranium over the phone. The agents were quite professional about the whole ordeal, all things considered.
I eventually went back to my room to study. A few hours later, Mom called all of us into the living room for an urgent family meeting.
She enthusiastically announced that Sheldon was officially inviting a friend over for dinner, and she desperately wanted all of us to behave properly. It was Tam, obviously.
She forced all of us to change out of our comfortable clothes and wear neat, proper attire just to accommodate another freshman.
When a polite knock finally sounded at the front door, Mary practically jumped. "He is here!" she yelled in a painfully high pitched, overly excited voice. "Everybody stay completely calm! This is just a normal dinner!"
"Can I just eat my food in front of the television?" Missy asked with a heavy sigh.
"No, you absolutely cannot. You will sit at the table and eat in front of Sheldon's new friend," Mary replied sharply.
"Aw, fudge," Missy cursed in her own childish way.
"I know exactly what fudge actually means, young lady. Now straighten up and act completely normal," Mary admonished, commanding the room with a stern glare.
Mother rushed to the entryway and warmly welcomed Tam inside. Following some brief, stilted greetings, we all gathered around the dining table. Dad immediately tried to make the heavy atmosphere slightly less awkward by initiating some friendly small talk.
"So, Tam, what exactly kind of name is that?" Dad asked while passing a bowl of sides.
"It is Vietnamese, sir," Tam answered politely.
"Well, I actually spent a good bit of time over there," Dad noted casually. "I was in the Army. Your mother's name is not Kim Lee, is it?"
Way to go, Dad. I found this specific brand of cultural awkwardness incredibly funny to witness. Sheldon quickly put a massive cherry right on top of the uncomfortable exchange.
"Why in the world would you think you might know his mother?" Sheldon asked with genuine, innocent confusion.
Dad just went completely silent, his face flushing a deep shade of red before he awkwardly mumbled, "It is a small country. You just never know."
"So, Vietnam. Like in that Rambo movie," Georgie happily added his own two cents to the disaster. "That is a really cool movie, man."
Mary suddenly came in clutch to save the rapidly deteriorating conversation. She marched out of the kitchen carrying a massive platter of meat. "Well, here is a real Texan dinner for you, sweetheart. We have barbecued chicken and smoked brisket."
"Thank you very much," Tam said graciously.
"Well, I just figured you were probably getting tired of stuff wiggling around on your dinner plate," Mary said with a warm smile, talking exactly like a truly ignorant, accidental racist.
Mother then directed her attention to the rest of the table. "Alright, let us all say grace. And Tam, when I say Jesus, you just feel free to say Buddha right there in your head."
Tam blinked rapidly. "Well, my family is actually Catholic, ma'am."
Mary frowned slightly in genuine disappointment. "Aw, well, that is just too bad."
The prayer concluded, leading into a very normal, highly awkward, and mostly quiet dinner service. Mom was the only person genuinely excited to hear Tam talk, while Dad was just joining in out of a sense of obligation.
Missy and Georgie both looked entirely too bored by the whole affair. I, however, was highly amused. I watched the mounting discomfort on my family's faces when Tam casually started recounting his deeply tragic backstory.
"So, for many years my brother and sister and I were very poor," Tam explained over his brisket. "We did not have much of anything to eat. When they finally released my father from the reeducation camp, where they spent years teaching him how to be a proper communist, we all escaped on a very small boat headed for Thailand."
"Oh, Thailand. A small country with lovely beaches. That must have been very nice," Mother said, desperately trying to find a silver lining of happiness in his terrifying childhood story.
"I really would not know," Tam continued, systematically ruining the appetite of everyone at the table. "We were immediately forced to live in terrible refugee camps where we only had wild pigeons and street rats to eat."
"Well, that sounds like a job for a whole lot of hot sauce," Georgie added with complete sincerity.
I finally broke my silence and giggled a little bit at my brother's comment and Tams reaction.
Tam did not seem offended by Georgie's comment in the slightest. "Hot sauce would have been a massive luxury," Tam replied, taking a polite bite of his chicken. "Especially after the violent pirate attacks."
Missy suddenly dropped her metal fork, her eyes going wide with instant fascination. "Wait a minute. You actually saw real pirates? Did they have cool eye patches and wooden peg legs?"
"No, they just had very large machine guns," Tam corrected her flatly. "They aggressively boarded our small boat in the middle of the dark ocean and ruthlessly stole absolutely everything of value we had left to our names."
The dining room descended into a heavy, suffocating silence. Dad paused with a dinner roll halfway to his mouth, completely paralyzed by the escalating horror of the boy's childhood trauma.
"You know, Tam. That was depressing." I chimed in smoothly, deciding to alleviate the crushing tension with a bit of dry logic. “Welcome to America. At least you are alive”
It was a highly eventful dinner. I honestly had a lot of fun observing the chaos today. As I helped clear the plates from the table, I decided that tomorrow morning, I would finally go for a run.